Page 93 of Unrest
Remy
At nine o’clock,excuse me, twenty-one-hundred, Linette opened the hatch door for me like she’d done every night I worked. We both wore coats with scarves wound around our lower faces and necks as we climbed the cellar-like stairs into the freezing, starry night. She checked all around with her eagle eyes, a big gun over her shoulder, while I made a beeline for the greenhouse thirty steps away. My feet crunched over old snow, now hard and icy as I speed walked, praying I wouldn’t slip like I did too often.
When I made it inside and shut the door, Linette sank back down into the hidden entrance and shut the cellar-like door. She would open it again for me in three hours.
The greenhouse was just warm enough from residual daylight heat to make me take off my jacket and scarf. I hummed while I made my way down the long length of the room, my eyes adjusting to the dark as I went. Several veggies were ready to harvest, and my fingers itched to pick them. I pulled the crates out from under the table. I had to lean down and take the cherry tomatoes in my fingers to gauge their darkness against my pale skin. I picked from all six bushes until only half-ripened ones were left. I would get those in two days.
Next I picked curly-edged romaine lettuce and cucumbers. I could not wait to see everyone’s faces tomorrow when we fixed these salads with diced canned ham and croutons I was making from scratch. I wouldn’t have touched canned ham six months ago to save my life, but now it was a delicacy.
Once everything was picked, I walked the length of the greenhouse to see if there were new sprouts, and to reseed any pots that weren’t growing. The feel of soil on my fingers soothed me, and I found my mind wandering to the conundrum of Matt and Jacob. I hadn’t had a chance to tell Amber what happened that afternoon while she worked. A bunch of us were hanging out in the lobby. When it became loud and crowded, Matt pulled me into the grief room to “ask me something.” I should have known better. He’s a guy, and I knew guys. As sweet and kind as he’d always been, he was bound to take advantage of a moment alone, and he did. He kissed me, and for one second, I let him. Then I pulled away, and I didn’t have to explain why.
“Tater,” he said with an uncharacteristic, sardonic laugh.
“Don’t say it like that,” I whispered. “I know he’s . . . messed up. But he’s been through a lot.”
“So have you, Remy, and you’re not being a bitch to everyone you care about.”
“Everyone reacts differently to tragedy.” I didn’t have it in me to fight, but I needed him to understand. “Matt, look. I’m glad to have you—”
“As a friend.” He shook his head. “I got it. Thanks.” I’d never seen him get upset with anyone. It was unsettling. Had I led him on by being too nice? That was the tricky thing with guy friends. But it was unfair. I was sick of feeling guilty. Guilty for drinking too much, hooking up too much. Now guilty for being too nice. Screw that.
“Don’t be like this,” I told him. “All I can offer is friendship. Take it or leave it.”
I stormed out with him shouting an apology behind me, only to run straight into Tater, who’d apparently seen us go in and was coming to . . . I don’t even know what. I stopped, and Matt nearly ran into my back. We both looked up at Tater’s locked jaw and crazy eyes.
“You guys finally together?” Tater asked with faux calm.
“No,” I said, feeling more and more pissed off. This game Tater was playing with me had my emotions in turmoil. He didn’t want me with Matt, but he wouldn’t talk to me or look at me most days, even though he’d taken such good care of me while I was sick. He had no right to be angry. “You know what?” My hands made little fists as I swiveled my head between them. “I’m not with anyone, and that’s how it’s going to stay.”
I don’t know how they responded, because I’d pushed past them and didn’t look back. The whole thing had left me feeling like crap. Honestly, there was too much going on to be worried about guys, but I couldn’t help it. Relationships were what life was about. And when I looked at Tater I saw all aspects of him: the boy he’d been with his family growing up, the laid back, funny man he’d been before the war started, and now the standoffish man he’d become after seeing our families murdered and getting blood on his own hands.
I knew him. I knew what he was capable of, and I couldn’t help but hope he could have that life back when all of this was over. I wanted us to laugh again, for him not to be afraid to embrace the love he felt, instead of denying himself and living in fear of losing again.
I swiveled my wrist to catch the moonlight on my watch. I had an hour left. Time to water everything and clean up. I lugged the first crate of veggies in my arms and quickly brought them to the door. Then I went back for the second. As I was picking it up, and pivoting to turn, a head-splitting sound blasted through the air, like a horn blowing straight into my ear. I screamed and turned too quickly, trying to run, but tripping over my own stupid feet. A nastypopsounded from my ankle as it twisted, and pain ratcheted up my leg, stunning me. With the heavy crate in my hands, I fell sideways, banging my hip into the side of the crate and whacking my head on the table ledge. All I saw were stars as the bleating siren continued to fill my ears.
Amber
It happened while I was playing Yahtzee in the lobby with Tater and Josh. Sean and J.D. had left minutes before, arguing about something. I was pretty sure by now that their constant bickering was foreplay. Or foreplay to future foreplay.
While Josh was grabbing water, Tater whispered to me, “Hey, did, uh, Remy say anything about earlier?”
I peered at him. “No, I haven’t talked to her. Why? What happened?”
He shook his head, and Josh jogged back, sitting with his legs spread wide. Tater’s mouth was clamped shut now. I’d have to ask Remy later.
I rolled the dice. Two sixes along with my other three sixes. “Yes!”
“You’re cheating!” Tater said to me. “Chuleta! There’s no way you can get two Yahtzees in one game when none of the rest of us got any!”
I smacked my thighs. “I cannot cheat at throwing dice! You watch me like a hawk the whole time.”
“What’s chuleta?” Josh asked.
“It means porkchop,” I said. His eyes scrunched, and I laughed. “Don’t ask. Our grandma always used it like an expression.” I looked at Tater. “Stop being a sore loser.”
He opened his mouth to retort and the strangest sound came out, so loud I flinched. The guys were on their feet in half a second, their faces suddenly sober and frightening to see. I was half a second behind them processing what was happening before I jumped up too.
The siren. We were under attack.
