Eternus (Treachery Trilogy Book 3), page 7
I am happy. But what is happiness if I can’t share it with the person I love?
I feel like part of Raven will never understand this because she already has everyone she loves right here with her. Her older sister and her sister’s boyfriend are here. Raven’s lover never made it to the camp, but she’s obviously moved on from him. She’d been estranged from her mother before the fall. Maybe there had been a time when she’d wanted to find her, too, but that time has long passed.
Raven is content with what she has; food, water, and the rest of her family. In this broken world, sometimes that’s all you can ask for. Sometimes that’s all you need. So, it must sound ridiculous for me to chase the wind and a dream when I’ve got people here to love and live with.
I’ve got plenty of supplies, access to generators—even a job. In Raven’s eyes, there’s nothing more I could want. But I do want more. I want all of this and my friends and my foster mother, too. I haven’t given up on them, and until I find them, I won’t be content.
“I’m coming back,” I tell her.
Raven leans back on her elbows. “I know you are. I just had to make one last plea.”
“I’m flattered.” I wiggle my eyebrows, which makes her snort out a laugh.
“Oh please! I’m sure you had plenty of girls chasing you down before the world ended.”
I don’t respond to that. If Raven knew the sort of guy I used to be, I’m sure she wouldn’t have any sort of crush on me at all. The old me wasn’t worth her time. Still, I meant what I said earlier—I am flattered by her affection. It’s been a while since someone genuinely liked me for me. Mya did, and I took her feelings for granted. Delilah liked me, but our relationship was shallow and built on nothing but sex. Raven has no real reason to like me except that I’m ridiculously tall and crazy handsome (aha).
Honestly, her affection is the sweetest thing that’s happened to me in a long time. I hate that I have to turn her down, and I wonder if this is how Mya felt all the years I ignored her. The irony is bittersweet.
“You still there?” Raven says.
I know she’s trying to lighten the air, but I want her to know that I still care for her. Even though I can’t be her boyfriend.
“Raven,” her name is a sigh, “listen, I wish things were different—”
“Oh no,” she groans, covering her face with her hands. “Please don’t start apologizing, that’ll make me feel even more pathetic.”
I laugh and she laughs too, and it suddenly feels like we just became best friends.
I flop onto the bed right beside her, staring up at the ceiling. I’m so much taller than Raven, my legs dangle off the bed and her feet don’t even reach the end. She’s small enough to curl up beside me, resting her head on my shoulder. I don’t move away. I kind of like having her there.
“I’m coming back,” I say, and then I feel her fingers slip between mine.
“You’d better.”
10
Mya
I’ll never get used to the silence that has engulfed this new world. Like a blanket set over us, the quiet laid down for a rest and we have no idea when it will awaken again. I miss the noise. The sound of music playing on a stereo as I studied in my bedroom. The sound of children laughing and playing… I haven’t seen a child since the Fall, unless it was dead. I miss the sound of television playing in public places; the news, the latest action movies, Super Bowl commercials. I miss the sound of traffic. I miss the sound of birds singing outside my window each morning. I miss the sound of frat parties thumping too loudly as I tried to sleep in the dorms. A sound I only heard once. And I miss the sound of my father tinkering with a project in our basement.
That project was his own handmade generator. Something that kept me and my friends alive for months. Sound is just one thing I miss. But I have hope to hear it again—all of it. I pray every day that the world will get better, and I believe God hears my prayers. He’s heard each one so far.
Patience. A word I had come to hate, but now I get it. Now I understand why that single word was God’s only response to my fervent prayers.
It was patience that opened my eyes to what I was doing to myself and to those around me. In my haste, I’d forced a relationship with Caesar that was doomed from the start. In my haste, I’d thrown myself at Adrian, desperately hoping he could heal me. In my haste, I’d pushed Adrian away again, convinced that he was the source of my lustful desires. But my source was my own heart.
Patience taught me that Julius wasn’t ready for a commitment to God or me. Patience taught me that I hadn’t accepted my own heartbreak, and therefore could never fully overcome it. Patience taught me that someone had been by my side all along; and with a little more patience, he’d be there again.
I wasn’t waiting for Adrian or Julius; I was waiting for myself. Because only the woman I am today would be strong enough to put Christ first. Though it hurt at the time, I’ve realized heartbreak was the only teacher I would yield to. Pain was the only lesson I could learn from. It was awful, but effective. And now that the lesson has been learned, I’ll never have to experience that heartbreak again.
I sigh as I push to my feet and yank up my jeans and underwear. Yes, I’ve been squatting behind a building taking a dump all this time. For some odd reason, my deepest thinking happens when I’m completely exposed and vulnerable. Maybe it’s the humility of the situation? I don’t know. I mean, there is no greater reminder of how badly you need God than popping out a turd in a parking lot while praying that someone doesn’t shoot you and take your toilet paper. Life is hard these days.
Another thing I miss? Praying for simple stuff. Like boys and making friends in college and passing my exams. One day we’ll get back to the simplicities we took for granted, but for now, I’ve got to get back to camp before Adrian begins to worry.
I’ve managed to convince him that I don’t need a chaperone for bathroom breaks but he’ll flip out if I stay gone too long. So, I run around to the front of the post office we’re camping in and find him setting up dinner inside. When I push the double doors open, he looks up and smiles. It’s awkward and shy but it’s the first shade of joy I’ve seen on him in months.
What color is joy?
For Adrian it’s a gentle shade of red that blushes his cheeks, and I absolutely love it on him. We’re not exactly dating right now, but we’re closer than we’ve ever been. You’ve heard that line before, right? Something like it, at least. But I’m telling you the truth; everything has changed between us, but it also feels as if we’re exactly what we’ve always been. Together.
“What’s for dinner?” I say, setting the roll of tissue on top of our first aid box.
Adrian passes me a bowl of something with beans, vegetables, and mysterious pink hunks mixed together. “Slop,” he says plainly.
“Well, I’ve had worse.”
“Wanna pray first?”
Now it’s my turn to smile shyly. “Of course.”
Adrian takes my hands and waits for me to bless the food. He’s been reminding me to pray ever since we buried Caesar’s stuff in his backyard. That was the hardest day of my life, but I’m glad I did it. I’m glad I severed the ties of my soul. I still love him, but this love is different. This is a sort of love I can manage. It isn’t obsessive, all-consuming, or desperate. It’s just love. Love for my best friend and prayers that he’s okay somewhere. Even prayers that I’ll see him again. Until that happens, I’m going to focus on other things. Like surviving, finding my father, and being with Adrian. The last part seems almost natural, especially because we’ve been together all this time. But now we’ve made it unofficially official.
I say that because Adrian hasn’t made a move on me at all. We haven’t kissed, hugged, or so much as held hands outside of prayer since that funeral. Part of me is really bummed about it. I don’t know why he’s being so cautious or distant, but I don’t want to push him and make him uncomfortable.
Still …
In the silence, we sit together on the linoleum floor, our backs against the wall of office boxes. For a moment, the only noise is the sound of us chewing. As much as I hate smacking, I feel okay listening to this. I could be listening to the sound of our stomachs growling.
Adrian nudges me with his elbow. “Not half bad.”
I snort. “Told you I’ve had worse.”
“I was not looking forward to cold meals, but this is alright.”
We ran out of gas for the camp burner a few days ago. Neither of us were happy about that, but it is what it is. We’ve survived a good long time with hot meals and warm water for sponge-bathing. The warm water was the first thing we sacrificed when the gas began to dwindle; that gave us another week or two of hot food, but now the gas is completely gone, and I feel a bit guilty about complaining. In this world, the little things matter more than you think. Like I said, someone could shoot me for my toilet paper.
I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and glance up at the wall of metal boxes. “You think any mail was left behind?”
Adrian sets down his bowl and then digs into his back pocket. When he holds up a massive set of keys, my mouth falls open.
“Let’s find out,” he says.
“Where did you get that from?”
“Found it when we checked the place for supplies.”
“That was two days ago! Why didn’t you mention it earlier?”
He looks guilty. “I was saving it for when we had some downtime. I thought it would be a fun surprise.”
My heart melts. Adrian and fun don’t really go together, so I can’t stop myself from smiling or reaching for his hand when he confesses. He looks almost like a kid as he drops his gaze, a blonde boy with a gentle smile, paired with sharp eyes, and dangerously beautiful lashes. He’s ridiculously tall with thick, heavy shoulders that bunch as he reaches up to palm the back of his neck. His dark shirt sticks to him from sweat, his jeans are stained with dirt and blood, his boots are worn out and covered with dust. But he’s so perfect and handsome to me.
I’m still holding his hand, smiling and gazing at him as I think of how sweet it is that we’re about to do something so simple. Something I’d honestly call boring if the world wasn’t destroyed. But this moment is ours.
I lean toward him, glancing down at his full lips. “Thanks for thinking of me.” The words are a gentle whisper, cut short when Adrian turns his head. I peck his cheek just to save myself some embarrassment, then I awkwardly pull away and fiddle with my bowl while he pulls his hand away and stands. He even pats the top of my hand and places it on my own lap, like I’m his grandmother.
What on earth is happening here?
“Let’s start with this one.” Adrian picks through the keys; each one is engraved with the number of its corresponding box, so he has no trouble finding the compartment he wants to unlock. He picks one at the end of the hall, far away from me, but as he’s walking away, I call out to him.
“Adri, what’s going on?”
Another beat of silence passes between us, then Adrian turns around with a confused look on his face. “What do you mean? We’re checking the boxes, Mya.”
“Don’t play me for a fool.” I fold my arms. “What was that a moment ago?”
The silence lasts longer this time. Adrian stares at the floor and I stare at him. We’re experiencing two different emotions right now—anger and remorse—but each one is a storm and I’m not sure which will churn into chaos first. My anger is a growing fire, but Adrian’s guilt is a rushing flood. Will we drown or burn?
“Talk to me,” I demand, but I don’t get to say or do anything more than that because the voice that responds back does not belong to the man I’m speaking to.
The words are unclear, but there’s a voice speaking in the distance, inside the post office, which immediately makes us both drop everything and launch into action. I am not thinking about this argument anymore, I am not thinking about that embarrassing almost-kiss, I am not even thinking about my own emotions. My only train of thought is our carefully planned escape routine.
I pack the medical supplies and essentials. Adrian packs the food and water. If there’s time, we grab the clothes and sleeping bags. Today there isn’t.
The voice has now been joined by another three and they’re all inching closer to our location. Inching is not an exaggeration, they’re moving slowly enough that I can grab one of our blankets, but we don’t want to waste any time so that’s the only thing I get before Adrian tugs me to the back of the hallway. There’s a room at the end with a door Adrian kicked in when we first arrived. The door doesn’t lock anymore because of that, but we don’t need it to. This room has an exit leading to the back of the post office, so once we pass through, we’re dumped into the cracked parking lot with weeds growing all around us. It’s not until we’ve made it through the back alley and across another street that I allow myself to breathe. Even then, I don’t risk speaking. It’s too dangerous.
Not only did we run into people, I’m pretty sure we ran into soldiers just then. Their words hadn’t been clear, but that wasn’t because of distance. I couldn’t understand any of the voices because they were foreign. No one in that group had spoken a single word from the English language—or from any other language I’ve ever heard. As a Christian who’s gone on missionary trips in other countries, I’m well-travelled enough to recognize a few different languages.
The one I heard in the post office is not one of them.
Besides that, they were all men wearing heavy boots. From the pattern of their footsteps, I could tell they were moving together. As one unit. That insinuates coordination. Adrian and I are certainly well coordinated, but we don’t move in synchronized formation while walking through empty buildings. And it sounded like they were coming right toward us. Maybe they were just sweeping the area—or maybe they knew we were in there. I don’t know, I can only speculate. But the point I’m making is that I have a lot of reasons to believe we were almost discovered by enemy soldiers.
Are they the same soldiers that took Julius? The question blooms in my head as Adrian checks an SUV in the parking lot we ran to; he turns and pats my shoulder then opens the back passenger door. I climb in without a word and quickly make room for him. Once the door is shut, the world outside hushes.
We stare at each other.
I can hear him breathing, each gulp for air is shaky and nervous. Mine are too.
“Soldiers,” I whisper.
He nods.
“The ones who took Julius?”
He shakes his head.
“How do you know?”
“I saw soldiers when I first left Cross North campus, remember?”
I nod. He told us a horror story of watching a woman get raped in the middle of the street by a group of soldiers. Even today I try to forget about that awful event, I can’t imagine the nightmares Adrian suffered having to watch it play out. Or hear it.
“The accents I heard in the post office sound the same as the soldiers I saw that day. Not the ones in Orly Center.”
“Okay,” I whisper. I’ve never seen any other soldiers except the ones who took Julius, but I trust Adrian enough not to push the issue. Besides, it’s not like we’re in a position to go back and ask them if they took my best friend. Whether they’re from Orly Center or overseas, both groups of soldiers had weapons. We’ve got one gun and some canned food.
I shift and hold up the blanket. “Guess we should get comfy.”
Adrian smiles. “Wanna stay here for the night?”
“I think it’s too risky to travel. They could track us down.”
Nothing is really stopping them from searching the cars in this parking lot, but I’m willing to bet they’ve already swept the nearby areas. We have no idea if there are more soldiers crawling through the streets, so it’s better to stay here and move in the morning.
I spread the blanket over both our laps and Adrian leans back against the door. He opens his arms for me to snuggle against him, but I hesitate. He didn’t want me to kiss him earlier, yet he’s trying to cuddle like there isn’t a wall building between us.
Should I confront this now?
We just ran from soldiers and now we have to spend the night sleeping in a dusty car. But it’s not like there will ever be a good time for this conversation, so I take a breath and say, “Why didn’t you kiss me earlier?”
He looks stunned and then quickly glances away. It’s evening now, so the only light we have is waning, it leaves the car glowing in a beautiful mix of rusty orange and deep red. It’s like a spotlight is being shined on Adrian but he won’t step into it. He just sits there staring at the floor, waiting for the light to fade.
“You don’t want to kiss me.”
“It’s complicated,” he mutters.
“Then simplify it.”
He doesn’t speak.
“You told me you love me. That you would always love me—”
“I know that.” His voice is a grunt, words on the edge of anger. “But things are complicated, Mya.”
I shake my head. “This isn’t fair. We agreed to start over and give us a chance.”
“That’s what I’m trying to do. I’m sorry that it isn’t that simple or easy for me.”
I stare at him. Is he telling the truth or just making excuses? It’s so hard to believe that after all this time—years of waiting and confessing his love to me—now things are hard for him?
Maybe I’m just being selfish, expecting him to jump at the opportunity to make out with me now that I’m finally ready. It’s so easy for me to climb onto my high horse as the virgin Christian girl, whispering that I’m not ready as soon as things get hot and heavy with a boy. But now the shoe is on the other foot, and I feel angered by this rejection.
Was this how Julius felt while we were together? Is this how it feels to be told to wait?
I don’t like it. But what choice do I have except to respect it?
“Okay,” I say, voice a trembling whisper. “I’m sorry for pushing you.”
“I do love you, Mya,” he whispers back.
