“He’s not that bad, you know. He’s changed a lot since you two were married.”
“People don’t change. And the fact that he left you behind is proof of that. Trust me.”
“Yeah, well, even considering that, he still treats me better than a lot of other men have.”
Maya swallowed, the weak coffee now churning like an acid bath in her stomach. She felt feverish and jittery, and much as she wanted to attribute it to the caffeine, she knew it probably had something to do with sitting next to her ex-husband’s girlfriend while driving down a highway in a post-apocalyptic nightmare—which wasn’t a dream at all.
They weren’t friends. Far from it. Just a few hours ago, they’d been treating each other like punching bags. But if anyone in the world knew what it felt like to be entangled in the mess that was Gerald Waller, it was this woman. And she’d had the same experience with him as Maya had.
“Have you ever talked to anybody about that stuff? You know, like, a professional?”
“You mean a fuckin’ shrink?”
Maya shrugged. “Yeah, for lack of a better word, I suppose that’s what I mean.”
Cameron laughed. “Honey, no person, whether it’s some therapist or my boyfriend’s ex-wife, is going to be able to fix me.”
“I don’t mean that, and I didn’t mean to offend you. I agree that no one is going to be able to fix you. But maybe someone can help you cope with things a little better.”
Cameron looked straight ahead, her knuckles white on the top of the steering wheel. With the reflection of the rising sun reflecting off the rear-view mirror, Maya noticed a single, silent tear rolling down Cameron’s face from the corner of her right eye.
“My dad abused me as a kid. No, he molested me. And all through school, I was bullied because I was fat and had bad acne. When I was 17, I had a miscarriage which was the result of a date-rape. Ever since, I’ve found myself in one bad relationship after another. And even though it might be hard for you to believe, Gerald has treated me very well. For once in my life, I’m fairly happy. I have a man I love. I make good money tending bar in a dive while wearing a low-cut Wildcats t-shirt. Men tip me more than what they put into the Sunday collection basket at church. I’m not sleeping behind a dumpster and I don’t have to knock cockroaches off my burritos before I eat them. That might not sound like the exciting life you’ve been leading, but to me, it’s something. But all that ended when this shit started.”
Maya watched Cameron swipe at another tear, wiping away her haunted past and her uncertain future. From where she sat, Maya could see a purple and black bruise forming on the woman’s face where her fist had landed a few hours earlier.
“I’m sorry that I punched you and tied you up in the basement. My emotions have been running high, and I’ve been through a lot. I just want to get my kids back.”
“Don’t be sorry. I deserved it for acting like a fucking brat.”
Maya laughed and shook her head. “You weren’t. You were trying to cope with this shit, like we’ve all been doing.”
Cameron took her foot off the gas as two deer crossed the highway. One dragged a limp hind leg behind it, the doe’s fur blackened and scorched. While waiting for them to get to the other side, Cameron turned and looked at Maya with red, bloodshot eyes.
“I’ll tell you this much. Gerald has your kids here in Kentucky.”
Maya leaned forward, staring hard into Cameron’s eyes, but not saying a word.
“But I’m not telling you exactly where until I’m sure you won’t throw me out of the truck.”
Maya felt a flutter in her stomach, and the news accelerated her heartbeat more than the coffee had. They were already in Kentucky, which meant they couldn’t be more than an hour or so from wherever Gerald had them.
Maya smiled. “Thank you.”
“Yeah, well, you can thank me when we get there.”
She hit the gas as the injured deer took one last look at the truck before hopping the guard rail. The engine roared as they continued heading west.
15
Reno sat in the back of the military transport with his head against the cold steel and his eyes closed. It felt like years had gone by since he’d had his old life in Nashville, and it worried him that he’d accepted this new world so quickly. He still couldn’t believe it had all happened, and the adrenaline from the situation was only now beginning to fade.
He opened his eyes and looked out the back of the transport where he rode with seven or eight soldiers. Morning had come, bringing with it a clear sky and brilliant sunshine. He was thankful to see the golden light after days of being suffocated beneath the dome’s utter darkness. And he knew they’d be safe from the aliens during the day. They wouldn’t be flying around in the daylight. The ships, however, posed a new threat… but Reno pushed that thought from his head. It felt like worthless worry, to create anxiety over things you couldn’t control. As far as he could tell and from what the soldiers had told him, the ships seemed to stay close to the domes, maybe to protect them. Theories abounded, and it seemed almost impossible to confirm a hypothesis.
A hand grasped him by the shoulder and he looked over to see John smiling at him.
“How you doing, buddy?”
“Good. I guess. You know where we are?”
“We’re on our way to a military base,” one of the soldiers sitting across from them said. He extended his right hand. “I’m Sergeant Matthews, U.S. Army.”
Reno shook the man’s hand, feeling the iron-clad grip of a career military man. Matthews was at least ten years older than Reno, a buzz cut of salt-and-pepper hair, tan and with a long scar running down his face. “This is John, Nashville P.D. And I’m Reno.”
Matthews pointed to Reno’s leg. “How’s that ankle?”
“It’s feeling better.”
“I can have one of my medics take a look at it when we stop.”
“That’d be great. Thanks.”
“That was quite brave what you gentlemen did back there,” Matthews said. “You’re heroes, you know.”
Reno huffed and shook his head. He’d been called that so many times in his career that it made him uncomfortable every time he heard it—not the sentiment someone would expect when lavishing praise upon an EMT or law enforcement officer. He decided against his pat response, but the line had popped into his head anyway.
Just doing my job.
Thousands of people in Nashville had died, including Jack. On top of that, Reno had no idea if Maya had survived or not. He couldn’t stop thinking about her, wishing he knew for sure if she was all right. Reno swallowed his urge to respond to being called a hero and decided he’d earned the right to ask some questions of those that should have more information than he did.
“Do you know anything about the ships? The domes? The aliens? Like, how many?”
“Right now, we don’t know much. Cell towers are down, so we’re solely dependent on shortwave communication. We’ve gotten sketchy reports from some larger cities—New York, Chicago, Houston, L.A.”
“They’re still there?” John asked.
Sergeant Matthews nodded. “And we’ve gotten word that some of America’s smaller cities have been completely domed like what they did to Nashville. Cleveland, Vegas, Tampa, Memphis—gone or domed. And that’s just the U.S. As far as I know, we’ve been unable to communicate with any of our international allies. But then, that level of comm is above my paygrade.”
“Jesus.” Reno lowered his head, looking at the tops of his boots. He’d seen the destruction in Nashville. And at the time, he’d thought it had only been that city experiencing it. But then, why would this happen in only a single U.S. city? Of course, the devastation had been more widespread.