Sole Survivors: Crux Survivors, Book 2 (6 page)

Squinting, she leaned forward. Tripp was on the porch. He stood and waved at her. She watched for his brother, frowning when he didn’t stand and wave too. She started the car and pulled it closer, then opened the window a crack. “Chase didn’t go inside, did he?” she yelled.

Tripp shook his head. “He had to stay with the RV! We couldn’t get it here!”

“Come get into the passenger side!” Keera leaned over to open the door because it no longer opened from the outside. Rain invaded the car with a relentless force that had her wincing as Tripp folded his long body into her tiny car.

He turned to grin at her, water dripping down hair that was darker while wet. His teeth were in surprisingly good shape. Every raider she’d come across had nasty teeth…when they still had them. Tripp had pretty full lips, fuller than his brother’s, but she didn’t find it hard to pull her eyes off them.

“I can’t believe you went up there.” She reached into the back seat and pulled one of the towels from around two jars. She set the jars on her lap and handed him the towel.

He buried his face in the towel, shivered, then groaned. “It’s soft. A real, soft towel.” He wiped it over his neck and stared at her. “We have a few towels left, but they’re so ratty, we started cutting up old blankets.” He paused, blinked at her. “Wow, you look even prettier with your hair up.”

She started to feel uncomfortable, then really looked into his blue eyes and knew she didn’t have anything to worry about from him. Yes, he was bigger and could easily overpower her in this car, but something in his poet’s face told her he would never do such a thing. He had the sad eyes, sculpted cheeks and general aura of sweetness that would have given her favorite writer, Oscar Wilde, enough writing inspiration for years.

“Don’t get nervous,” Tripp murmured. “I tend to blurt out what I’m thinking. Drives my brother crazy sometimes. You’re safe with me.”

Heat crept up her neck. She’d thought she’d squashed the nerves down fast enough. The kid was observant.

He lowered the towel to his lap, but kept his hands wrapped in it. “What’s in the jars?”

“One of them is gumbo. With deer sausage.”

His brows were darker than his hair and they crawled up his forehead as his eyes grew huge. “Really?”

Keera nodded. “I brought a lot of it. Also jars of regular vegetables, fruits. Some honey jams and other stuff. Pickles.” She held up the other jar in her lap.

“I remember pickles,” he murmured. “Don’t you need vinegar to make them?”

She shrugged. “I make it. Make my own yeast, everything.”

“Did you learn from books?”

“Sure. Quite a bit from books, but my father taught me to be prepared for anything. I already knew how to take care of myself when the Crux first hit.”

“How old were you?”

She chuckled. “Is that your way of asking how old I am?”

This time, his cheeks turned red.

Laughing, she opened the pickle jar and handed it to him. “I was eleven when people first got sick.” The small car filled with the scent of garlic pickled cucumbers. She hoped he liked garlic because she’d used a lot.

He took the jar and just stared down into it. “It’s been so long since I ate something like this. I almost want to wait so my brother can enjoy them too.”

“You plan to eat the entire jar?” She grimaced. “Please don’t. Your stomach won’t be used to that much acid. Should start slow.” She watched him stare into the jar and could tell he was dying to try one. The fact he wanted to wait to share the experience with his brother made her heart feel all soft and mushy. “Go ahead. We’ll watch him eat them too and it’ll be like the first time all over again.” She pointed to the packed back of the car. “Plus, there are a lot of firsts for you two to experience together.”

He caved, reached into the jar with his fingers and grabbed a pickle. “They’re still cold.”

“Yeah, I keep most of my canned goods underground. I just pulled those out this morning. But I have a refrigerator. You must too, in that RV.”

He still held the pickle as if savoring the anticipation. “It hasn’t worked in years.” He put the pickle on his tongue and closed his eyes. “Oh wow. I don’t remember pickles being this good.”

She shrugged and set the other jar into the back seat. “They probably weren’t unless your parents did them from scratch. Even as a kid I thought homemade stuff was always better. Though sometimes I think about how much I loved frozen pizzas. I do miss those.”

“And marshmallows,” he murmured, sliding another pickle into his mouth.

“Oh, so, so much!” She reached into the jar and pulled one out for herself. Crunching into the savory garlicky goodness, she grinned. “I tried to make marshmallows. Was a huge failure. I never took the time to figure out how to get gelatin and nothing else worked.”

“Chase tried to cook us a cake on our sixteenth birthday but we didn’t have eggs or sugar. Was the worst thing I’ve ever tasted, but Mag—” He broke off and his throat moved as he swallowed hard, like the pickle had turned into a boulder.

Keera waited for him to continue, really wanting him to. She was starved for conversation with another human being, for stories and ones that had anything to do with Chase especially. Then she clued in to the “us” part of what he’d said. He’d shared a birthday with someone. She wanted to ask if it had been a twin, but his expression was ripping into her heart like a claw.

“We lost my sister a year ago.” Tripp’s voice was barely audible because of the rain and his tone. He stared at the pickles. “She would have loved these.”

“I’m sorry.” She reached out, hesitated, then touched the sleeve of his brown coat. “I know what that’s like. Not a sister, but a father…and a husband.”

He raised his face. “You were married? When? After the Crux?”

She nodded. “I was nineteen when my father and I found Dax scavenging one of the buildings in town. He was with us about four years and I miss him every single day. My dad died three years ago.”

“Are there other people?”

“Just me.”

“You’ve been completely alone for three years?”

She nodded again.

“I don’t think I could do it.” He ate another pickle. “These are really good.” He put the lid on the jar. “I’ll save these to share with Chase. I have nightmares about losing him. I almost did.”

Keera tapped her cheek. “The scars?”

“Yeah. He was shot when our sister was. Two other people lived with us at the time and they were both killed as well. I didn’t know how to help my brother. I just sat there for weeks, feeding him and dressing the wounds, but they healed all wrong. I should have sewed them closed, done something differently.”

“He’s still alive, Tripp.”

“I didn’t think he’d live. I had to dig one of the bullets out of his chest and he wouldn’t stop bleeding. I thought he was going to lose an eye. And his face…”

“He has a great face,” Keera blurted out. She bit her lip, feeling that heat crawling into her cheeks this time.

Tripp started to smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “He does, doesn’t he? It’s kind of fierce. He got our father’s eyes.”

“You both have blue eyes.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t get that cool narrowing by the nose. Makes his stare kind of—”

“Shivery.”
Oops.
She hadn’t meant to let that word pop out.

This time, he laughed. “Not a word I would have chosen. Well maybe when I was younger and he was pissed at me. But it was a different kind of shiver, you know?”

“Sorry. That
things slip out
thing happens to me too, apparently. It’s been a while since anyone heard me, though.”

 
Quiet filled the car, then both of them leaned forward to look out of the windshield when the rain suddenly let up. Water still streamed from the tree above her car, but the relentless pounding stopped.

“So, do you remember where you guys parked the RV? I’m sure I can get the car there. Does your stove still work?”

“Yeah, Chase and I both got pretty good at fixing that. Cooked food—so much better than raw.”

“We’ll see how you two like my gumbo.”

Chase watched Keera and his brother get out of her little electric car. Keera wore a bomber jacket, jeans and black work boots. Pair of boots like that would sure come in handy while hunting. Her green jacket looked fairly new too—the material vaguely familiar to him. Weatherproof, if he remembered correctly. She had her black hair up in a ponytail.

She made his mouth water.

Tripp’s mouth moved a mile a minute and though Keera nodded and murmured back to him often, her gaze locked on Chase. Felt like someone punched him in the gut. They stared at each other and he wondered if she felt it, the connection that was tearing his gut into knots. He tore his gaze away from hers.

His brother finally took his eyes off Keera and when they focused on the people standing by the semi-truck half hidden by trees, he went still.

Then he pulled his gun and took aim.

Keera looked startled.

Chase turned to find Ross and Dorian aiming their guns right back.

“Wait!” Chase yelled, running toward his brother. “They aren’t raiders!”

“How do you know?” Tripp asked, his mouth curling at one corner, his aim never wavering.

“I just do. Lower the gun, Tripp.” Chase glanced at Keera only to find a knife in each of her hands. He grinned, couldn’t help it. “They’re good people. Promise.”

“Scumbag raiders look just like you and me, Chase.” The expression on Tripp’s face was the hardest Chase had ever seen on it.

“We aren’t raiders.”

Chase stopped at the hesitant voice, his eyes widening when he got a good look at the skinny kid with shoulder-length blond hair who stepped between Jenna and Ross. He hadn’t come into the RV with the others and though Chase had seen him before, he hadn’t been able to really get a good look at his face. He only came up to Dorian’s shoulders and his green eyes stood out even from this distance. Chase had thought Dorian was pretty for a guy, but this kid was something else. His narrow features had an elegant cast that made him seem almost surreal—like those elves in the old movie Tripp loved about hobbits and a ring.

The boy cleared his throat. “I promise we aren’t raiders. These people wouldn’t hurt anyone. Trust me, I know.”

Chase looked back to find Tripp standing perfectly still, his mouth open as he stared at the kid.

“This is Cadmar,” Jenna said, stepping around Dorian to put her arm around the boy’s shoulders. “He speaks the truth. We’re only here because we saw your brother lurking around our camp.”

“I wasn’t lurking. I heard shots. Thought you might have my brother.”

“You were lurking.” She grinned. “But you’re forgiven.”

They’d been here a couple of hours, all but the boy huddling in his RV while the rain had been hardest. He liked them. A lot. Ross was a big man who carried his heart on his sleeve. He looked at the other two like they were made of something more precious than gold—though that particular metal was no longer precious. Dorian, elegant, interesting and kind of nosy, had proved right away that he had serious brains going on under all those black curls. Jenna…well, she was something else. Like Dorian, long legged and lean and strong and so damned gorgeous, Chase had to stop himself from staring. He had a feeling neither of the two men with her would appreciate it.

Tripp lowered his gun, gaze still stuck on Cadmar. “That’s your name? Really?”

“Tripp,” Chase admonished. “Like you have room to talk.”

He chuckled. “True. But we both have verbs for names.” He walked closer to Cadmar, head tilted to the side. “You like movies, Cad?”

The younger kid shuddered. “That ain’t a nickname I like. You get why, right? And I don’t know if I like movies. Never seen one.”

“Tripp.” Chase touched his arm. “The player broke, remember?”

Tripp’s shoulders slumped. “That’s right.”

“I have several.” Keera squared her shoulders, stared hard at Chase, then walked slowly toward him until she could talk low. “You sure they weren’t with the others?”

He kept from showing his surprise with effort. She had no reason to trust him outside of his help yesterday. “I’ve been with them a couple of hours. My gut says no.”

Jenna smiled at Keera. “We’re on our way to a farm north of here. Cadmar’s parents are being held there by the bad guys. You live near here?”

Keera hugged her arms to her chest. “Maybe. You with that kid you’re hugging?”

Cadmar scowled. “She’s not, but she could be. I’m nineteen—not a kid.”

Ross chuckled. “Jenna is with me and with this one.” He pointed at Dorian. “I’m Ross and this is Dorian and Jenna. We’ve been together since we were kids. Well, not
together
, together that long…” He broke off, cheeks turning red.

Dorian threw his head back and laughed. Chase lifted his eyebrows at the pure joy of the sound. He’d forgotten what it was like to hear laughter. Real laughter. He hadn’t heard any since Maggie.

“Ha ha, Dorian,” Ross mumbled. “What I meant is we’ve known each other since we were kids. We weren’t together. Well, we were but not the way I made it sound. What I meant was—”