Page 6 of Beacon

“I’m living. What did you think I was doing?” He’s positioned another chunk of wood and brings the axe down on it with a sharp sound.

“I have no idea. None of us did. Why are you staying here instead of coming home?”

“I want to stay here. I’ll come home when I’m ready. You need to leave.”

“I’m not going to leave. Mack—!” I break off the words because he’s turned his back on me. My tone was getting slightly shrill anyway from upset and indignation and bewildered confusion.

He leans over to pick up the wood he’s chopped, adding it to the already large pile. Then he walks toward the house.

“Mack, are you serious?” I have to jog to catch up with him. “I’ve come all this way, and you’re treating me like this?”

He doesn’t turn around until he’s reached the front porch of the cabin. “Anna, I don’t want you here. Go home.”

That’s what he says. Mack. Tome.

After everything we’ve been through together.

Then he steps inside and closes the door in my face.

I stand, swaying slightly on my feet in anguished shock. He’s just hurt me. My heart. More than I realized I could be hurt anymore.

But after a minute, a force of anger pushes its way through everything else. Sucking in a sharp breath, I stride over to the door and pound on it with the side of my fist rather than my knuckles. I’m hitting it so hard my knuckles would have hurt. “Mack! Mack, let me in!”

“Go away, Anna. I told you I don’t want you here.” His voice is muffled by the door, but he must be standing close. Right in front of it.

“I don’t give a damn what you want. I’m here anyway! Let me in.”

“No.”

No. He’s telling me no.

“Damn it, Mack! Me, Rachel, and Cal risked our lives to get here! They used up a ton of the gas they have left because they were so worried for you. I’ve killed two men today alone when they attacked me. The least you can do is let me into the house!”

There’s a long pause. I’m briefly hopeful, wondering if he’s thinking, considering, backing down. Then, “No.”

“I’m not going to leave, Mack! I’ve come all this way, and I’m not going to turn around. I’m going to camp out here until you let me in!”

“Have fun with that.”

I’m sputtering with outrage as his voice seems to move away. He’s not at the door anymore. I know it for sure even though I can’t see anything inside the cabin. There’s a window at the front, but the shutters are closed.

I really can’t believe this is happening.

I imagined so many different scenarios of what might happen when I get here, and in none of them—not a single one—did Mack refuse to even let me in.

But there’s nothing to do about it. Any attempt I make to enter would potentially damage the cabin, and that would be stupid and dangerous. But I’m not about to turn around and leave.

So I let out a long sigh and sit on the top step leading up to the porch. I pull out my water bottle and take a swig.

I’ve got food to eat this evening, thanks to what Greta gave us as we left the farm this morning. If it gets too dark, I’ll pull out my blanket and stretch out on the front porch to sleep.

It won’t be ideal, but I’ve slept in worse places.

Surely Mack will be willing to talk to me tomorrow.

2

For the next hour,I sit on the porch step and watch the sky through the surrounding trees get darker and darker.

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