Waves of Fury (Surviving Earth Chronicles)

Chapter Thirty-Two

Tyler

S t. George is wild. Not wild in the whole “the-world-is-ending-and-everyone-is-dying-around-me” wild either. More like alternate reality wild.

These people are going about their day as though they’re mildly inconvenienced by a power outage rather than Earth trying to destroy itself. It doesn’t help their near-delusional state since they seem to be untouched by the horrors we’ve witnessed.

Kids kick soccer balls up and down Main Street. Elderly folks sit on front porches, drinking from steaming mugs. Several able-bodied men and women patrol the area but only half-heartedly, choosing to set down their weapon to join in on a kickball game or shoot the shit with one of the old folks.

Don’t they know our planet is dying?

Not just dying, but going absolutely homicidal on its residents in its suicide mission?

Nah, these people have no clue.

Must be nice to be so oblivious. I’ve seen things I’ll never recover from. Elise’s mutilated hands and Kyle’s brain matter all over the car seat are two images I can’t seem to erase no matter how hard I try.

Earlier, I made my way through the town, stopping at a couple of open shops. They were still accepting cash, even though it feels useless at this point, considering the state of the world. Luckily for me, the convenience store owner—Bud—allowed me to trade my “young, brute strength,” helping him move some boxes in exchange for a bottle of personal lubricant and a six-pack of beer I’ve never heard of.

I listened to the loud man with a problem with excessive belching as he gave me pointers on how to “woo a lady” on my date. I guess it’s obvious considering what all I traded him for. Wisely, I kept my mouth shut on asking him if the same rules applied to wooing a man.

With my beer tucked under my arm and the lube stowed away in my jacket pocket, I make my way back toward the motel. It’s nearly lunchtime and I’m supposed to meet up with our group so we can head over together. Bud assured me that Janine is a fine cook and we certainly won’t be disappointed.

Once at the motel, I stash my date night stuff in our room and then find the group in the front office. Amy, Cora, and Harry are gone, but Florence and Jared are there, in a deep conversation with Kellen. Hope is braiding Hailey’s hair into a tight French braid. Hailey is smiling as she hugs Pretzel to her chest, so that’s something. Jesse and Aaron are sitting on the floor, backs against the wall, simply watching everyone with matching serene expressions. Dan stands near a window, staring out, shoulders hunched, while Wayne stands sentry by the front door, arms crossed over his chest.

“Oh, dear,” Florence exclaims. “Would you look at the time? We need to head down to the fire station. I know you lot are hungry.”

Knowing this will be our last meal for the day makes my stomach clench painfully. Florence, with a knowing expression, pulls me aside and smiles.

“It’s just something we tell newcomers,” she says to me, offering me her elbow to take. “It gives us time to vet them—to make sure they’re decent.”

“And if they are?”

“They eat like the rest of us,” Florence says with a chuckle. “You’ll want to meet with Bill and Red, though, after lunch. They’ll need assistance carrying boxes of food from the box store down the road back to the fire station so Janine can get things going for supper. That store and Janine’s kitchen are about two of the only places with a working generator.”

“How does a generator keep a whole Walmart running?” I ask in astonishment.

“Honey, it’s a Costco,” she replies with a smirk as we exit the office. “And they’ve got the generator on one refrigeration room. It’s how you were able to have eggs and cheese this morning.”

“What happens when you run out?”

Florence’s smile falls and she shrugs as we walk through town on the way to the fire station. “I’m sure the government will have everything all sorted well before then. Come on, I hear Janine has spice cake for dessert with real cream cheese frosting.”

I’m reeling at her words.

The government? What government? There’s been nothing but chaos since San Francisco. This woman is delusional.

It’s on the tip of my tongue to argue with her, but by the time I decide I should, we’re already walking up to one of six lines of people that lead into the open bays of the fire station. People laugh and chat cheerfully as they wait for their turn to grab some lunch. I watch a man walk out past us, already having gotten his food, and nearly drool. He’s carrying a heaping Styrofoam bowl of what looks to be chili with a giant slice of cornbread sitting on top. In his other hand is a square slice of cake precariously balanced on a flimsy paper plate. He has a can of Pepsi pushed into his hoodie pocket that barely peeks out.

The scent of slow-cooked meat, beans, and spices wafts past me. I nearly groan as I watch him go by. Florence chuckles and playfully pinches my arm.

“There’s plenty enough to go around, Tyler.”

We stand in line for about twenty minutes before we reach the food tables. Volunteers stand behind the tables, working hurriedly to dish up chili for everyone. I gratefully take a steaming bowl and make sure to snag both a soda and some cake on my way back out. Florence leads me to a picnic table. It’s chilly and the occasional ice pellet pings me in the face. One of the townspeople nearby complains about the cold.

Cold?

This is practically a desert island oasis compared to the frigid extremes we’ve endured.

It doesn’t take long for me to devour every damn drop on both my bowl and plate. Florence, amused by my hunger, offers me the rest of her cornbread. I eat that too without hesitation. Once we’ve disposed of our trash, she leads me to meet Bill and Red.

Bill, a huge guy with a massive beer gut and fire-red hair, leans against a work truck with a trailer hitched to the back of it. Red, as it turns out, is his much smaller, brunette wife. I’m not sure how she got the name Red, but it’s definitely more fitting for her husband.

Several people load into the trailer, including myself, and we head out to gather food. Florence stays back, waving to me, and then makes her way back into the crowd. The other people in the trailer watch me curiously and even try to strike up some small talk, but I must be a poor conversationalist these days because they eventually give up to talk to each other instead.

The icy wind whips at me as we bounce along in the trailer. A mile or so from the main hub of the town is the revered Costco. I’m pleased to see they at least have armed guards at this place. I follow a guy whose name I learned is Gus into the massive building. It’s dark and cavernous. Battery-operated lanterns light a way into the abyss of the wholesale store. As we head toward the back, I see light and can hear the hum of a generator. It’s all very organized with people instructing us on what to grab and where to go. I’m even able to peek into the refrigerated room and its dwindling supply of foods that haven’t yet spoiled.

What happens when they run out?

An uneasy feeling settles in the pit of my stomach. Maybe they’re all under the impression that we’re experiencing a minor disruption to everyday life. That help is on the way and by next week or next month, everything will be back to normal.

They haven’t seen what I’ve seen.

Guilt threatens to swallow me whole. I should be grabbing each person, shaking them hard by the shoulders, and warning them of what’s out there. That after their supplies are gone, they’ll most likely turn to violence in an effort to survive.

But who am I to ruin their day?

Something tells me they wouldn’t believe me anyway. My group would get kicked out of here and that’s the last thing we need right now.

I spend the rest of the afternoon working to earn my keep and don’t end up seeing Kellen or my group until after dinner. Who knew cheap spaghetti and green beans could the best meal I’ve ever eaten? And, the best part, there was plenty of leftover spice cake to go around.

By the time we reach our motel room, I’m stuffed and content.

“Ready for our date?” Kellen asks, smirking at me as we enter our room. “If this weren’t the end of the world, I’d have done something much more impressive.”

The door closes behind me and I take in the space. There are a couple of battery-operated candles flickering on the end table near the bed. Next to the candles, an old battery-operated radio plays music. The beer I’d procured sits beside that.

“How?” I ask, walking over to the sweet sounds of Aerosmith playing from the raspy speaker.

When we checked the car radio a while back, we were met with lots of static and just that one station broadcasting Stovepipe Wells as a safe haven.

“I’m resourceful,” Kellen says, coming up behind me to wrap me in his arms. “While you were out working, I was too. Jared asked me to deliver some meals and medicine to the homebound elderly folks. They were just as eager as Jared to trade information for stuff.” He gestures toward the candles and radio. “One old man had that CD player and a whole case of CDs that belonged to his son who’s now grown and lives in Maryland. Said he was happy for it to go to a good home.”

I turn in Kellen’s arms, resting my head on his shoulder. We both lazily sway to the music, hands teasing at one another.

“This is nice,” I murmur, my lips finding his neck. “It’d be even nicer if you were naked.”

His rich laughter makes me laugh too. Then the two of us are pawing at each other like we’re desperate for this moment.

We are desperate for this moment.

Kellen undresses before I do and as soon as my boxers are kicked away, he pushes me onto the bed. His lips meet mine hungrily as he settles his weight on my body. I’m aching for his touch and kisses. We both want…more. So much more.

He’s in no hurry, though. His kisses are eager and passionate, but he teases me with slow thrusts of his hips. He bites at my bottom lip and whispers filthy words that drive me closer and closer to the edge of sanity. Without warning, he pulls back, panting heavily.

“Why’d you stop?” I complain, reaching for him. “Come back to me.”

Kellen’s grin is crooked and almost boyish. “I’m only getting started, Ty. And I’ll keep coming back to you as long as you’ll have me.”

I like that answer.

“I’d wanted this date to be romantic,” he says, smile falling. “Drink a beer or two. Talk. But I can’t seem to keep my hands off you long enough to carry on a conversation.”

“I don’t want beer or to chat right now, Kell, I want you. We can talk later.”

I claw at his shoulders, drawing him closer to me. I need to kiss him. Kellen senses my desires and crashes his lips to mine, desperately—like this might be our one and only time.

I hope to hell it’s not.

After a heated, blissful moment together where we’re both fully satisfied in the end, I bask in his comforting presence, my heart rate finally slowing to a more regular cadence.

“That,” Kellen murmurs against the shell of my ear, “was the single best moment of my entire life. Thank you, Ty. Thank you for being you.”

I revel in his words, letting them soothe over every pain inside and out that I’ve felt since that wave first took my city. Kellen is the light in this dark world. Now that I’ve finally had him so intimately, there’s no way in hell I’ll ever let him go.

This may be a “date” for a fairly new relationship, but I feel one vow thrumming through my veins. It’s animalistic and unstoppable, raging through me like an out-of-control forest fire.

He’s mine. ’Til death do us part.

Unfortunately, in our new world, that could mean as early as tomorrow.

Until then, I’m going to appreciate every damn second with him.