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Authors: Shawn Chesser
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cupping
his face. But, sadly, it was over before it got real good. She pulled away and
delivered the look that he knew all too well. Those smoldering brown eyes had
just issued him a rain check to be redeemed later for a private rendezvous. And
since the new world hadn’t changed Brook’s libido one bit, Cade was confident that
he’d be cashing in his chit before the day was done. Finally, with more than a
little color spreading to his cheeks, he looked over at Taryn and Wilson and
said, “Move along here. Nothing to see.”
***
Back at the compound, inside the security container, Heidi
was losing her battle against a rising tide of guilt. Though she’d grown fairly
thick skin as a result of her longtime bartending job, after the outbreak the
things she’d endured at Robert Christian’s mansion in Jackson Hole had broken
her down completely and changed her perception of people in general. Now, reluctant
to open up to anyone but Daymon and bound by an unrealistic fear of the
outside, she eschewed any prolonged human interaction and had come to embrace
fully the subterranean safety of the compound. And as a result, due to the lack
of daylight and whatever vitamin it normally provided, she was moody and quick
to anger. And that anger, recently unleashed by the perceived snub brought on
by Cade’s no-nonsense attitude over the radio, had hijacked all rational
thought for a short while and was now just beginning to ebb. Unable or
unwilling to admit she had been wrong in ignoring the incoming call, she
thought up a creative way of absolving herself of the transgression. A little
white lie wouldn’t hurt anybody, she reasoned as she thumbed the radio and
tried to hail Daymon or Duncan or whoever happened to pick up first.
After three tries Duncan’s familiar drawl came back at her.
That there was a little bit of a slur to his words went over Heidi’s head and,
forgoing a hello or any type of small talk, she instead immediately—with little
warmth or inflection in her voice—asked to speak to Daymon.
Coming across to Heidi like Cade had earlier, Duncan said
nothing. He held the radio up and paced a few steps left of Daymon and waved
the Motorola back and forth, trying to get the dreadlocked man’s attention.
The warbling whine of a hardworking chainsaw somewhere in
the background sounded in Heidi’s ear for a handful of seconds. Suddenly there
was silence and she heard static and the rustling noise indicative of the phone
changing hands. Finally Daymon said, “What’s up, hon?”
Heidi asked Daymon to switch over to a channel where they could
expect a degree of privacy.
Daymon took off a glove and manipulated the rubberized keys
until he found the channel and sub-channel Heidi requested he go to. “What’s
up?” he asked.
The words came out of Heidi’s mouth rushed and at times
unintelligible as she rehashed the events leading up to the moment the satellite
phone registered the incoming call.
Shaking his head, Daymon said nothing for a short while.
Then he said, “I think you’re reading into it too much. He’s all business. And
so is Duncan when he’s not half in the bag drunk.”
“But ...”
Daymon keyed the talk button, cutting her off. He said,
“Drop it. You’re projecting. I’ll be back when I’m finished here and we can
talk it through.”
“Whatever,” she said.
Daymon turned the volume back up to max and glanced at
Duncan, who had been feigning disinterest, rather poorly.
“Everything OK?”
“Same old same old,” answered Daymon. He switched the radio
back to the previous channel. Sat down hard on the Chevy’s tailgate and cracked
a water.
Smiling, Duncan took a seat next to Daymon on the dusty
tailgate. He pulled out his flask and said, “Would misery like company?”
Back in the compound, Heidi slapped a palm on the plywood
desk. “Men are such assholes,” she said, switching the two-way back to the
agreed upon community channel, 10-1. Then, alone in the dimly lit
his face. But, sadly, it was over before it got real good. She pulled away and
delivered the look that he knew all too well. Those smoldering brown eyes had
just issued him a rain check to be redeemed later for a private rendezvous. And
since the new world hadn’t changed Brook’s libido one bit, Cade was confident that
he’d be cashing in his chit before the day was done. Finally, with more than a
little color spreading to his cheeks, he looked over at Taryn and Wilson and
said, “Move along here. Nothing to see.”
***
Back at the compound, inside the security container, Heidi
was losing her battle against a rising tide of guilt. Though she’d grown fairly
thick skin as a result of her longtime bartending job, after the outbreak the
things she’d endured at Robert Christian’s mansion in Jackson Hole had broken
her down completely and changed her perception of people in general. Now, reluctant
to open up to anyone but Daymon and bound by an unrealistic fear of the
outside, she eschewed any prolonged human interaction and had come to embrace
fully the subterranean safety of the compound. And as a result, due to the lack
of daylight and whatever vitamin it normally provided, she was moody and quick
to anger. And that anger, recently unleashed by the perceived snub brought on
by Cade’s no-nonsense attitude over the radio, had hijacked all rational
thought for a short while and was now just beginning to ebb. Unable or
unwilling to admit she had been wrong in ignoring the incoming call, she
thought up a creative way of absolving herself of the transgression. A little
white lie wouldn’t hurt anybody, she reasoned as she thumbed the radio and
tried to hail Daymon or Duncan or whoever happened to pick up first.
After three tries Duncan’s familiar drawl came back at her.
That there was a little bit of a slur to his words went over Heidi’s head and,
forgoing a hello or any type of small talk, she instead immediately—with little
warmth or inflection in her voice—asked to speak to Daymon.
Coming across to Heidi like Cade had earlier, Duncan said
nothing. He held the radio up and paced a few steps left of Daymon and waved
the Motorola back and forth, trying to get the dreadlocked man’s attention.
The warbling whine of a hardworking chainsaw somewhere in
the background sounded in Heidi’s ear for a handful of seconds. Suddenly there
was silence and she heard static and the rustling noise indicative of the phone
changing hands. Finally Daymon said, “What’s up, hon?”
Heidi asked Daymon to switch over to a channel where they could
expect a degree of privacy.
Daymon took off a glove and manipulated the rubberized keys
until he found the channel and sub-channel Heidi requested he go to. “What’s
up?” he asked.
The words came out of Heidi’s mouth rushed and at times
unintelligible as she rehashed the events leading up to the moment the satellite
phone registered the incoming call.
Shaking his head, Daymon said nothing for a short while.
Then he said, “I think you’re reading into it too much. He’s all business. And
so is Duncan when he’s not half in the bag drunk.”
“But ...”
Daymon keyed the talk button, cutting her off. He said,
“Drop it. You’re projecting. I’ll be back when I’m finished here and we can
talk it through.”
“Whatever,” she said.
Daymon turned the volume back up to max and glanced at
Duncan, who had been feigning disinterest, rather poorly.
“Everything OK?”
“Same old same old,” answered Daymon. He switched the radio
back to the previous channel. Sat down hard on the Chevy’s tailgate and cracked
a water.
Smiling, Duncan took a seat next to Daymon on the dusty
tailgate. He pulled out his flask and said, “Would misery like company?”
Back in the compound, Heidi slapped a palm on the plywood
desk. “Men are such assholes,” she said, switching the two-way back to the
agreed upon community channel, 10-1. Then, alone in the dimly lit
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