Especially Graysie. He knew in his heart he’d raised that girl up right. Red-headed and stubborn as a mule, he had no doubt she’d started walking toward home already. He’d trained her to handle a gun and a crossbow, and hoped she’d been listening to all the survival shows he’d watched while she pecked away on her phone texting night after night before she went away to college. Hopefully, some of it had sunk in. It was disappointing she’d refused survival training, but she was a smart girl… her father’s daughter. He had confidence in her, although he threw up a little in his mouth each time he thought of her out on the road, alone.
No!
He caught himself and swallowed down the bile before his fears ran away from him and pushed him into another panic attack. Graysie would never be so stupid as to try it alone. She had them college boys nipping at her heels day and night. With a figure like hers and that long, curly red hair, he hoped she’d just this once use it to her advantage to recruit a few strong boys to escort her home. Hell, he’d even let a boy stay, if he brought his daughter home unhurt and unmolested.
He’d been an idiot not telling Graysie what he’d hidden under her bed, in her dorm room. What if she didn’t find it? Dammit again.
He shook off thoughts of Graysie, reminding himself there wasn’t a thing he could do except wait. No time to worry right now.
But what about Jake and Dusty? They were an hour away, in town. He knew Dusty had his stepson, Rickey, with him, so why hadn’t they gotten here yet? It was only a day’s walk and the power had been out two days now. Surely, he wasn’t still working with the gas shortage, and a thirteen-year old boy in tow. He imagined Dusty was pretty worked up about Emma being stuck on vacation when this happened. Maybe he’d somehow gone to get her, and taken their son with him?
He shook his head. No way. If he had a vehicle, he’d drop Rickey off here first. He wouldn’t risk the boy to rescue the mama; Emma would kick his ass.
And Jake. Where the hell was Jake? Maybe Jake could figure out a way to salvage the gas. He was a fixer by nature and a mechanic by trade. Surely, he knew something to do? At the very least, he expected Jake to have a full tank of gas in his own truck. He should be here by now. But Jake had been acting weird lately. Not himself. Sort of down and out sometimes. He’d noticed it but assumed Gabby, Jake’s wife, was on top of it.
Although Jake put on a stoic face, everyone knew he still dealt with a lot of pain from a car accident years ago. Grayson figured his up and down moods lately were related to that.
Jake and Dusty had to know he was nearly out of his mind with worry for everyone, especially the women. He jerked the ax out of the log and threw it as hard as he could. It flipped ass over elbows three times before lodging in a tree. He threw his head back and screamed, “Where the hell are you guys?!”
He stomped off to cool down. Pacing back and forth in the shade behind the barn where the chickens had just rounded the bend, he let off steam. He let out all his inner ramblings and fears. He directed all his anger at the absent Dusty and Jake. “What about the damn plan, guys? You two are supposed to be here. I can’t do this all alone. I don’t want to be here by myself. This was for all of you. Son of a bitch, Jake! We could be driving to get the women. What if something happens to them? What if we can’t find them because you farted around getting here?”
He turned and threw his hands up in the air. “And where the hell are you, Dusty? I need you, brother. I. Need. You,” he screamed at the top of his lungs.
The chickens that had been ignoring him scattered in the wind.
He leaned against the barn, out of breath. He slid down the wall onto his rear end, sitting on the ground with his head in his hands. His bad tooth was giving him hell, too. He rubbed his jaw. He’d obviously missed his dentist appointment.
Ozzie, the dog, slowly slunk over, his head down and tail between his legs. He sniffed in Grayson’s direction, took a few more steps, and dropped next to him. He lay his head in Grayson’s lap, coaxing a pat from the anguished man.
One reluctant pat turned into more petting. Grayson couldn’t resist the big brown eyes looking up at him. “Damn dog. Been moping around for days looking for your mama, haven’t ya?” he said, his voice breaking. “Me, too, buddy.”
Eyes turned up toward the sky, trying to clear them of their sudden blurriness, he breathed out long and hard. And then in again—a short, sucking breath. He dropped his head, wrapped his arms around Ozzie and pulled him close. He hugged the dog. Ozzie whimpered so he loosened his grip. The dog settled beside him and wagged his tail.
Grayson knew his face was blood-red, he could feel the heat of it. His heart beat wildly, thumping against his chest. His blood pressure was up too high. He’d held it together for close to two days, but being out here alone, with only the dog for company—driving him crazy whining for Olivia—he was falling apart.
This wasn’t the way it supposed to happen. Shit was going to get real in a few days—maybe even today. It could get ugly. They needed to get the house ready. They needed to be together. He needed his wife and daughter. He needed them here, with him. Without them, he had no reason for any of this. Yet they were stuck out there somewhere, with the crazies and the yahoos, and probably worse. And there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.
Damn it all. He felt something wet on his cheek. What the hell? He looked up again to see if something was dripping off the barn. Nope. His vision blurred once more. He blinked, spilling another tear. He laughed.
Tears? I’m crying? What the hell? I haven’t cried since my momma died.
He laughed at himself again. Now, for just a moment, he was glad he was alone. It wouldn’t do for anyone to see him cry. Yeah, he’d lost his shit. And he knew this was probably the last time it could ever happen. They’d come, and they’d expect him to be in control. Like he always was. The oldest, the wisest, and the meanest. But they also knew he’d protect them and get shit done. That was the way he was. That was what was expected from a git-er-done kinda guy.
He felt a calmness settle over him. Not sure if it was because of Ozzie, or just releasing some much-needed angst, he gave the credit to the dog. “Good boy, Ozzie. Good boy.” He rubbed behind Ozzie’s ears as he leaned his own head back against the old red paint. He deserved a break. He’d get back on it in ten.
7
OLIVIA SLOWLY BLINKED her eyes until her twin sister’s face came into focus.
“What,” she muttered groggily. “What’s wrong?” she asked Gabby, who was kneeled over next to her, crying.
“Olivia!” Gabby screamed, and pulled her close.
Olivia pushed her away. “Stop! What? What are you crying about?” she asked, looking around at the chaos with a confused look. “Where’s everyone going?”
Emma separated them, pulling on Olivia’s arm to get her up. “Come on. We’ve got to get out of here. You were hit in the head, probably by a cooler. It knocked you out. Shots have been fired. We need to go. Get up.”
Olivia eyes widened. “Shots?”
Emma looked around in a panic. “Gun shots. So, hurry. I think whoever was shooting is gone now, but we need to get off the beach to somewhere safe. Let’s go back to the room.”
Olivia felt her head—her hand came away sticky and wet. She gasped and looked to her twin sister, Gabby. “This is why you’re crying? You thought I was shot or something?”