32- home
Reece stays ahead of me, sometimes moving from tree to tree, sometimes circling above, but never straying far. I eat most of the food on the way. It’s total crap—chips and various puffed things—but it fills the void in my belly and keeps the feet moving. My stomach is a churning, greasy mess by the time I reach my driveway, thanks in part to partially hydrogenated soybean oil and pure, giddy relief.
Reece stays in a tree as I dig out the key hidden under a solar light and open my front door. I’m greeted by an eager wet nose shoving through the opening. Roger. His whole body wiggles in welcome. I drop to my knees and bury my face in his coarse fur.
I’ve never been so happy to see him. He’s never seemed so happy to see me. “Hey there, boy,” I croon. His fur is warm and smells wonderfully familiar. I rest my cheek on his neck and hug him tighter than he’d like, taking his enthusiastic kisses square on the face without even a wince. If I have to endure his slobber, he has to endure my vulnerable moment. “I wasn’t sure I’d see you again, handsome.”
Someone “shushes” from the direction of the kitchen. I freeze. Someone’s here? My body goes tense, but Roger doesn’t seem concerned. “Hello? Who’s there?” I call.
Two heads poke around the corner. “Angie?”
Who? Oh, that’s me. And that’s… “Lacey? Deno?”
Maybe it’s the surprise of seeing them. Maybe I just used up all my mental energy on Kiera. Spots of black appear at my peripheral vision. I sway, dropping my bag.
Lacey and Deno jump forward. Deno grabs me and lowers me to the floor. “Angie, are you okay?”
I sag against him, vaguely wondering why he’s clutching one of my dad’s fancy carving knives. “Yeah, I’m…” I feel my brows knit. “How did you get in here?”
“You gave me a key and the security code. It was a few months ago when you and your dad went to visit your grandparents and I watched Roger. Remember?”
I do remember, but I can’t organize a response. I just sort of stare up at him. His brows draw together in sudden concern. “Did you hit your head?”
“I hit just about everything.” Relief and joy and something akin to love move through me. I’m really, really happy to see them. I’m so glad they thought to come here. I could kiss both of them. I grin at Deno. “You look different.”
His eyes are hard, haunted. Thick hair mats around his face, which is dirty and sports a bruise on his forehead. His clothes are…my dad’s, except for his haggard-looking army jacket hanging from his shoulders. It’s strange to see Deno in this package.
“Yeah, well, you look like an extra from The Walking Dead.” He winces. “Smell pretty bad, too.”
“That bad, huh?”
“Not good,” he says, half carrying me to the living room. “We didn’t shower because we didn’t want to use up all the propane in the generator, but maybe you should make an exception.”
He eases me to a couch. Roger trots over and heaves himself practically on my lap. Lacey hands me a half-filled cup of tea. I accept it with a grateful sigh. Ah, something warm.
Lacey sits on the cushion next to me and tosses back her long hair. Long, clean hair. She doesn’t have any visible bruises. She’s wearing my clothes and looks better in them than I do. “How the hell do you look so good after surviving a landslide and a flood?” I ask her.
She flashes a smile and a sly shrug. “I look where I’m going.”
Deno snorts, and I burst into giggles. It’s better than crying, which is the release my emotions are pushing for.
“Oh Angie, we were so worried about you.” Lacey pauses, then speaks gently. “Do you know what happened to Reece? He carried you off…that’s the last we saw of either of you.”
Oh man, how do I explain this? “Reece and I…got separated. He’s okay, I think.”
Well, considering he’s outside right now, I’m sure. There’ve got to be times the boy is thankful he can turn into a bird. I only wish he’d utilize his one and only superpower and get himself to safety.
“I can’t tell you how glad I am to see you both.” I set aside the empty cup of tea with a sigh. “But what are you two doing here? I thought you’d be evacuated. There were helicopters everywhere.”
Lacey and Deno exchange a tense look.
My hands, stroking Roger’s silky ears, go still. “What’s going on, guys?”
“We didn’t get on the rescue helicopter.” Lacey’s lips compress to a line. “There wasn’t room for everyone, and there were people who needed to get to a hospital worse than us. And then we ran.”
“What?” I ask. “Why not wait for the next one?”
“The next helicopter wasn’t coming for another hour.” Deno scrapes his hands through his grimy hair. “There were bees. A lot of bees.”
“I have a hunch,” Lacey says in a quiet voice, “that they are not normal bees at all.”