“You aren’t going to die.”
She thought of the vials and the fact that her name was not among them. But what did any of it mean? The questions seemed too big and unanswerable, and Lucy kept breathing deeply, trying to calm the heaviness in her chest.
“That’s all I know, so you’ll just have to live with that.” Darla reached into her messenger back and pulled out a pair of canvas slip-on shoes that Lucy immediately recognized as her own.
“I noticed you were without footwear yesterday. You own a surprising number of shoes…none of which are great for walking. So, what, the King family doesn’t like to hike? Whatever, we’ll make do.”
Lucy mumbled a thank you as she slipped the shoes on her feet.
“Come on. Follow me.”
Darla moved toward the bushes, pushing long branches with leaves out of the way and ducking under the greenery. A twig caught in Lucy’s hair and as she moved forward it tugged on her scalp; she batted it away. Then something wispy and thin brushed her cheek and it felt like the remnants of a spider’s web. She shivered and ran her hand over the tingling skin. She hadn’t given much thought to the survival of all living creatures. Did spiders even still exist now or had they also been banished from the earth?
Lucy kept pace with her and matched her step for step. Their feet crunched along gravel. They passed some school storage buildings and one of the doors was wide open, the glass broken on the windows. Next they crawled through an open space in a fence and found themselves in the bus barn—fifteen buses parked for service in their usual spaces, bright and yellow. Darla put out her hand and stopped Lucy, then drew her gun up, flipping the safety off.
When Lucy opened her mouth to ask something, Darla snapped her fingers and motioned for Lucy to stay quiet.
With every step, Darla would pause.
Then even Lucy heard the crunch of gravel that continued after they had paused. Behind them were a set of secondary steps trying to match their own, but the attempt was imperfect. While Darla turned her head around one of the buses, her back flush against the exit door, Lucy felt someone grab her arm and she shrieked loudly. Darla spun back, aiming her weapon.
“Put down your gun!” Darla called. “I’m a better shot. I can already tell just by looking at you.”
Lucy staggered forward and pulled out of the person’s grasp. Then she turned to see Grant’s sallow face as he stared down Darla. Grant stood there, holding Lucy’s revolver in his hand and his whole arm was shaking.
“Let our friend go,” he commanded, his voice breaking. The threat of using a weapon seemed to be making Grant physically ill. Sweat beads formed on his forehead. Lucy wanted to go over and hug him. Her heart was overjoyed at his act of bravery on her behalf, but she saw the glimmer of agitation on Darla’s face and realized that Grant might be in real danger.
Lucy ran and stood between them with her arms outstretched. She spotted Salem hovering next to another one of the buses and she motioned for Lucy to run to her.
“Stop!” Lucy yelled. “Just stop! Both of you. Grant…it’s okay…this is Darla. Ethan sent her. Darla, these are my friends. Don’t shoot them.”
“You know these kids?” Darla asked and she lifted her hands up in a show of faith and holstered her gun. “You have no idea how close I came to just shooting you. Maybe a warning next time.”
Lucy dropped her hands and placed them on her knees, taking a moment. “How does a wealth manager know so much about guns?” she asked.
“Why shouldn’t a wealth manager know so much about guns?” Darla replied.
“Spencer?” Grant asked, looking relieved to lower his gun too. And the moment the scene settled and everything seemed safe, Salem emerged and rushed over to Lucy, wrapping her arms around Lucy’s shoulders and squeezing her tightly.
“He let me go,” Lucy said, her breath constricted from Salem’s monster embrace.
“We’ve been so worried,” Salem said. “We spent all night trying to get back into the building.”
“Fort Knox that place,” Grant said.
Lucy wanted to believe it was true. She searched their faces and saw their exhaustion and worry and knew that they were being honest. Her rambling daydreams of Grant and Salem leaving her with Spencer so they could kiss unencumbered were unfounded. She let out a relieved sigh.
Darla cleared her throat. A noisy, exaggerated sound of frustration. She motioned for them to wrap up their hellos and hugs and then turned back to her original task at-hand, clearing the bus barn, taking glimpses of the undercarriage, peering into the windowed exit doors. The friends walked together after her and Salem grabbed Lucy’s hand as they walked.
“I’m sorry we left you—”
With a small squeeze, Lucy smiled. “You didn’t have a choice. He would’ve shot you. I’m certain of it.”
Salem noticed the raw cut in Lucy’s right wrist and she brought it up to inspect it. “What did he do to you?”
They heard Darla’s feet speeding toward them across the gravel and when Lucy looked up, she saw the dark haired woman bearing down on them, her face contorted with rage and fear. “Shut up,” she seethed. “Seriously. The chummy reunion dialogue can wait until we’re inside somewhere. Safe.”
Grant stopped walking and tilted his head at Darla, blinking. “Why are you paranoid?”
“Where’ve you been the last week?” Darla asked. “That’s right. Holed up in the school. With water, right? Food? Your basic needs were met that entire time. So whatever perceived hardship you think you might have experienced? No. You don’t know what’s going on out here.”
Salem bristled at Darla’s tone and let go of Lucy’s hand. She took a small step forward and raised her shoulders. “We’ve been outside for twenty-four hours…and if you haven’t noticed…there isn’t ANYONE LEFT.” Salem yelled, her voice echoing down the street and carrying into the abandoned houses and buildings that surrounded them.
No one moved for a long second and then Darla leaned in closer to Salem’s face, she lowered her voice. “This corridor is used for people like me…making a beeline to that school to trade with your former principal. You’re right. There’s hardly anyone left. But those that decided to survive by shooting you, taking your little bag…with your last little bit of water…they’ll be around here. You want to yell? Yell. But when they come, I’m not saving you from them. Not even if you beg me.”
“Fine,” Grant replied, not harshly. He looked at Darla and raised his hands in surrender. “So, you’re the boss.”
“I’m the boss?”
“You’ll get us somewhere safe?”
Darla shook her head. “No. I have one task…to get Lucy back to her own house…back to Ethan. You two,” she pointed to both Salem and then Grant, “have nothing to do with this. But if you’re tagging along? Shut up.”
The walk was serpentine. It might have taken an hour to walk straight from the high school to Lucy’s house, but Darla kept them off the main streets. Without a word, they cut through yards and parks and crouched along abandoned cars in the strip mall. The shop windows were nonexistent, reduced to piles of broken glass and the furniture from the stores had been tossed outward into the parking lot. There were bodies everywhere: Against the steering wheels of cars, across the sidewalks, inside the stores. And everything was quiet. Their footsteps echoed down the covered corridor as they passed by a shoe store, a fabric store, and a clothing boutique. Darla nodded for them to head into a darkened drug store.
“No power,” Darla warned. “From this grid and upward. Most of Oregon is out of power actually. Just a few zones left. I can’t tell you why they’re hanging on.”
“Is there power at my house?” Lucy asked and Darla shook her head no.
“Power has been out there for a few days now.”
The drug store was stripped clean. Shelves emptied of all essential and nonessential items. Even the rack of greeting cards was empty.