The Pulse (30 page)

She even loved that he cared for her enough to give her up. Of course, when she found him, she’d tear him a new one for that.
If
she found him.

“Brad,” Emily said, looking up. “I can’t stay here. I have to go find Mason.”

He shook his head. “He’ll freak out if you leave here. You know that.”

“I don’t really care,” she said bluntly. “I’m leaving.”

She turned to walk back to Luke and Melissa’s house to get her things. She had to hurry if she wanted to find him. Who knew how far ahead he had gotten? Mason was slowed down by her, she knew. So without her, he had probably gone a lot farther. But where? What direction should she go?

“Brad, do you know where he went?” she called over her shoulder.

He shook his head.

This wasn’t going to be easy. But if she truly loved him, then she’d rather die trying to find him than live her life without him.

He might be angry with her for coming after him, but at this point she didn’t even care. Let him be angry. She was angry too. And if he didn’t want her to stick around, then tough—because once she found him, she sure as hell wasn’t going to leave his side ever again

If
she found him.

Mason headed north
on I-87, walking with one thought going through his head over and over like a mantra: don’t look back.

If he looked back, he’d turn back. If he turned back, he’d go get Emily and take her from the safety of the town. He couldn’t do that to her, not when he couldn’t promise her the same protection she’d have living there.

But leaving her behind was killing him from the inside out. He felt like he swallowed something too big and it stuck in his chest. He swallowed hard around the lump, trying to focus on putting one foot in front of the other.

Keep walking. Don’t look back.

He only briefly considered going to New York City. It had been his home for so long, and he knew how to survive there… but now he knew there was a better life. Seeing how Potterskill, as hard hit as it had been, thrived after the Pulse made the conditions at Grand Central seem even more horrific.

If he kept moving forward, maybe he could find his own place. That’s what he was used to anyway—being alone. The thought should have made him feel better, but instead the idea of spending the rest of his life in what used to be blessed solitude now seemed like a life sentence. It was as if he had never escaped prison after all.

Don’t look back.

Mason shook his head, forcing himself to keep going. But Emily… God, he missed her already. Missed her beautiful face, her engaging conversation, even her teasing and giggling. He missed making love to her—and it had only been a few long hours since they had been together by the lake. How would he go a lifetime without kissing her lips again, without feeling her body beneath his?

She’d be okay, though. She’d be better than okay. Mason wasn’t even sure what he was going to eat later that day, or where he’d sleep. If she were with him, he’d be endangering her life. He couldn’t do that to her. Brad Crimshaw would take care of her.

Oh God. The mere thought of Brad touching his woman made him sick to his stomach. But he couldn’t very well expect her to join a nunnery after only knowing Mason for a few weeks. It wasn’t like she even thought of them as a couple. She said so herself at the lake.

She had made it quite clear, actually, that they were just together for that moment. Hearing her say that had made it slightly easier to let her go. But only slightly.

Don’t look back.

Emily walked up
to the main highway outside Potterskill. She could feel the cold steel of the pistol in the small of her back, secure in the waistband of her jeans. It made her feel safer, knowing she had it. Just in case.

There were two guards at the road, guarding the entrance to Potterskill from the other side of the highway. She waved at them.

“Did you see that new guy Mason go this way, a few hours ago?”

The two men looked at each other. One said, “He told us we never saw him.” Then he grinned at her. She scowled. So Mason really tried to hide from her, huh?

And at least now she knew he’d headed north on the highway. How could she ever catch up to him, though, if he was several hours, and many miles, ahead? Surely if he stopped to camp he’d hide in the woods off the side of the road. She’d never find him.

But she had to try, or she’d never forgive herself.

Luke and Melissa had packed her a sandwich for the road, which was kind of them. They told her to come back if she couldn’t find him. Emily hoped she wouldn’t have to take them up on her offer, as nice as they were.

She wanted to be with Mason.

The road curved around the hills of upstate New York, and it was slow going. Her feet ached and she’d only been walking for a few hours. The sun hung low in the sky, reminding her that she’d have to find shelter for the night, and soon. She didn’t want to be caught out at night.

“Going somewhere?” the voice sounded raw and greasy, and definitely male. Emily gasped with surprise and looked to her left, where she heard the voice. But she couldn’t see anyone.

She grabbed her gun and pointed it in the general direction. “Show yourself,” she said, using all her strength to keep her voice from shaking. She sounded confident, and the steel she heard in her own voice made her feel safer.

She cocked the gun.

The guy laughed and stepped out from behind a stalled truck, holding his hands up. He was big, almost as tall as Mason, and walking toward her with a bravado only guys who think they’re invincible have. He stepped toward her and Emily lowered her gun since he appeared unarmed.

“There’s a toll, lady,” the man said. “If you want to keep going this way.”

“What are you talking about, a toll?” she demanded.

“You gotta give me something if you want to keep going this way,” he repeated, shrugging his shoulders. “Whatcha got? Something in that bag of yours?” He took another step toward her and Emily hoisted her gun up again.

“Step back, asshole,” she said.

He laughed again. “Shoot me for all I care. No big deal.”

What was going on? The guy had to be suicidal, which made him dangerous. He had nothing to lose.

“I have nothing in my bag,” she lied.

The man grabbed the bag out of her hands and she gasped, aiming the gun at his chest. “Give it back.”

“No. Shoot me if it means that much to you,” he said. The man pulled out her sandwich and took it. Looking at her, he calmly took a big bite. Then another. Then, to her surprise, he put the sandwich back in her bag and handed it back to her. “Go on now,” he said. “And watch out, because there’s a mean-looking dude camped a couple miles up the road.”

Mean-looking dude?

“Was he wearing cargo pants and a rifle slung over his shoulder?” she asked.

“Yup. That’s the one.”

Grand Central Terminal

JENNA

Jenna
watched in horror as the soldiers dragged Taryn in front of Colonel Lanche. The soldiers had kept Taryn locked up somewhere at Grand Central, awaiting sentencing.

Colonel Lanche apparently didn’t like to execute people on Sundays.

“So you’re the girl who killed my soldier,” he spat, glowering at Taryn.

Taryn glared back, staring defiantly. She’d had two long nights of waiting. Jenna imagined it would have been kinder of the army to kill her straight off and get it over with. She choked back a sob.

Lanche turned to the man holding Taryn. “Tell us what happened.”

“We heard a shot, and came into a subway car to see Private Eric Andrews shot to death on top of a whore.” The soldier found Jenna in the crowd and pointed to her. “That whore. And this whore here,” he said, pushing Taryn forward, “held the smoking gun.”

Lanche shook his head. He looked into the crowd that had gathered. “This is my camp,” he screamed. “Do you really think you can get away with murder?” A vein bulged in his forehead.

The man was losing it, Jenna realized. Losing his hold on the citizens of the FEMA camp and losing the respect of the people who had once deemed him a savior.

“Were there any witnesses?” he asked.

The soldier gestured to Jenna. “She saw her friend shoot him.”

Jenna shook her head, unable to speak. She wouldn’t incriminate Taryn, not if she could help it.

Taryn looked at Jenna, her red-rimmed eyes calm. She seemed serene now, like she’d made peace with what had happened. “Tell them, Jenna. Tell them what Emily said about the radio.”

She heard Lanche make a strangled noise in the back of his throat.

Jenna looked at her friend and nodded, perspiration beading on her upper lip. She had to speak quickly before she was shut up—permanently. But as Jenna opened her mouth to spread the truth, Colonel Lanche lifted his rifle and pointed it at her.

“Go, Jenna, go!” Taryn cried. “Get out of here—don’t let them catch you too.”

Jenna didn’t even think; she turned and ran, zigzagging through the crowd. She heard Taryn screaming at the top of her lungs, “There’s a better life! There’s a radio, and America is rebuilding.”

The crowd murmured loudly amongst themselves, repeating what she said. Jenna could hear the wonderment in their voices, echoing behind her as she ran, ran through them all. “Get out of Grand Central,” Taryn cried, “and find a better life.”

A shot rang out, deafening in Jenna’s ears.

Jenna stopped in her tracks, the front exit from Grand Central just steps away in front of her, a ragged cry torn from her throat. Taryn’s tirade had been silenced. No more screams.
Oh God
, Jenna thought
. No no no, it couldn’t
 . . . But she knew it had. Lanche had executed Taryn, right then and there in Grand Central Terminal, under the clock by the information booth where so many other public hearings were done.

Jenna wanted to turn back—wanted to run back up to Lanche, to shoot him with his own gun. Wanted to see Taryn’s body one last time before it went into a mass grave, an unfitting burial for such a beautiful young woman. A woman who tried, in her final moments, to save everyone at the Grand Central military camp. To free them from the tyranny they had been living under for the past year, living like animals. To free the women who prostituted themselves on the Tracks for a meal.

“Oh Taryn,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

EMILY

Emily kept her
eyes peeled for smoke rising in the trees as she walked up 87, now two miles past the toll. It seemed to take forever, and the sun was setting dangerously fast. If she was wrong and she wasn’t tracking Mason, but another man, she’d have a serious problem when she walked in on his camp.

Hell, she’d have a serious problem even if it was Mason, considering he’d tried to ditch her.

But she needed to talk to him first.

She saw the light from the fire not far off the side of the road. Walking slowly, she drew near, close enough to feel the heat from the flames. Mason was nowhere in sight.

A voice came from behind a tree. “Stay back,” he said.

She froze, putting her hands in the air. “Mason?” she called. “It’s me. Emily.”

Mason stepped out from behind the tree, lowering his rifle. “Jesus, Emily, I nearly shot you.”

She lowered her arms. He looked angry.

“I’m sorry,” she said. Wait a minute. No she wasn’t—she was angry. And it was time to let him know that. “Mason, what you did wasn’t right.”

He looked flabbergasted. “What? Leaving you behind? It was the only right thing I’ve ever done. I can’t promise you security, not like what you had in the town.” He stepped toward her, staring down into her eyes with his deep blue ones.

“I don’t care,” she said. “You can’t make a decision like that for me.”

He sighed. “I see what this is about.”

Did he? Could he tell she’d fallen in love with him? Something told her he’d be scared off even further if she admitted the truth to him.

He looked at her, a serious expression on his face. “You’re proving a point. I get that. But you didn’t have to endanger your life to show me that you’re an independent woman.”

“Maybe I wanted to,” she said, sitting down by the fire. “And that’s my prerogative.”

“Well, you screwed up,” he said hotly. “Because now I have to take you back to town.”

Emily jumped up again. “Mason, no!” She touched his jawline, the stubble growing thick and coarse. “I want to stay with you. Please, please let me stay with you. I won’t slow you down, I swear.”

Mason laughed quietly. “Yes, you will. But I don’t care about that anymore. I want your company—God knows I do—but you made me promise to protect you. At this point, the best protection I can give you is not with me. It’s back in the town, with Brad.”

She scowled. “That’s another thing, you jerk,” she said. “How could you give me to another man? I’m not yours to give away!”

He winced at her words. “That wasn’t my intention, not at all.”

“So you were just content to see me be with another guy? That didn’t bother you?” She shook her head, all the anger draining out of her. Sadness filled its place. He really didn’t care about her, not past the promise he had made her after she had saved his life.