The Survivors

Illinois

February 23rd

1

“No, please. No more bodies. There’s no room for them!”

Angela’s haunted tone instantly brought Marc awake. He rose up on one elbow and found her tearstained cheeks in the dim lantern light.

Dog whined, also watching her cry in her sleep.

“Angie?”

There was no answer. She was having another nightmare. It wasn’t the first time she’d woken him this way. It bothered Marc that he couldn’t protect her in her dreams too. The small part of him that had suspected she was faking was gone. She’d been affectionate, passionate, loving. He loathed her man for changing that.

“It’s how he was raised. He didn’t know any other way to deal with someone like me.”

Marc gave her an awkward smile, prying his gaze from the dark curls messed sexily over her shoulder. “You would have made a good Marine.” Marc switched topics, not wanting to hear her defend someone who had obviously hurt her so much.

“Not me.” Angela sat up, pulling the thick quilt around her shoulders. She scanned the dusty pictures of foreign, seductive landscapes and the dark, dirty windows instead of looking at him. “I don’t kill. I won’t.”

He grimaced at her argumentative tone, wondering if it was caused by the dream or something that she had picked up from him. “You okay?” Her face was pale in the orange glow of the propane heater.

“I will be. Rough night.”

Marc grunted. Five or six this week. “Wanna talk about it?”

Angela tried to imagine telling him about her life of rape and assault, and total, unforgiving control. She shut her eyes against the shame. “No. How about you tell me something from your life that I don’t know. Shouldn’t be hard.”

He ignored her bitter tone. “Like what? After the war?”

“Tell me the answer to one of the questions we used to ask each other.”

“Why?” Marc’s mind screamed ambush from the resentful words. He could almost hear her telling herself to let it go, to preserve the careful peace they’d been sharing, but he couldn’t allow it. “The truth is all that’s left now. Tell me why.”

She opened her eyes; he was only a little surprised by the coldness there.

“I need to know what was more important than the way we felt. What was worth more than the love you left behind and forgot about?”

Marc pulled in a wounded breath. “I’ve never said it was worth it, and I never forgot you!”

“Clearly it was, or you would have at least had the decency to tell me where we stood!” Her words fell like chips of frosted glass. “You weighed the old life against the new one and if you ever looked back, I never knew. Last thing I heard was I’ll find you. And don’t give me that it was for the best crap because it wasn’t.”

“I wouldn’t. I did a lot, helped a lot of people, but I’ve never considered it a fair trade. For the most part, it’s been lonely…cold. I’ve spent the last decade aware that I made a mistake.”

She shrugged, not interested in his apologies, and too angry and hurt to be afraid of arguing with him. Her life with Kenny was all she could think about at night while Marc was being nice to her, seeing to her needs. The pain in his voice was finally a balm to the old Angela. “Tell me something I don’t know about your life.”

“I don’t... Okay. You remember how we wanted matching tattoos? I have four now. Three can be shown in public.”

Her rage began to calm. “I’m public. Let’s see ’em.”

Marc pushed up his camouflage sleeve to reveal a simple, thin green band around his upper arm, edges artfully spiked. The other sleeve hid a neat eagle on top of the earth. She stared at his thick arm as she wondered where the politically incorrect one was. His ass? “And the third?”

Amused when he hesitated, she threw a rare grin. “Come on. You said three were politically correct.”

Marc stared. It’s been so long! He was immediately sorry her already swinging mood was about to take a hit. He uncovered slowly, hating the fear on her face when his hands went to the buckle of his dusty jeans. He only slid the waistband over his hip a couple of inches as he rolled toward her.

“Those are Recon wings! Kenny has the same–” She stopped, heart clenching. Kenny had the traditional Mother in the center of his. Marc had Angie Forever.

Their eyes met, locked. Memories swirled between them, old and powerful.

“You’ll love me forever?”

The boy kissed her tenderly as his hips pushed between her long legs. “Just that long. Not a second more.”

She smiled, leaning into his thrust.

Marc turned away with a heavy heart. That moment had been a long time ago, but right now, it felt as if it were yesterday. He had to fight with himself not to go to her, not to tell her how he felt or that he had come back for her. It had been too late by then, and it was too late now.

The big timber wolf stretched, yawning widely before following his master.

Angela studied Marc’s big shoulders as he lit the stove. Her name on his tanned hip flashed through her mind; she slammed her eyes shut. She was sure it had been done when he was fresh into the Marines and still pissed at his mother for putting him there. If our love meant so much, he would have come back for me. He hadn’t, and in the years that had passed, he’d changed. The boy she’d loved had been her willing slave on most things, her ally and best friend. This new man was closed off, adept at keeping to himself. She missed their intimacy, and hated the circumstances preventing them from having it again.

It’s for the best. What if friendship isn’t enough?

Angie gave the old dream only a brief glance before shoving it away. The question doesn’t matter. Kenny will never let me go.

Marc was certain any of the things he might have said would only cause more tension. Until tonight, they’d been avoiding old wounds while concentrating on sorting out an efficient travel routine. In that way, he knew he’d pleased her. They’d made one hundred twenty-seven miles in the week since leaving the wounded brothers behind, compared to the one hundred twenty that Angie had made in nine days alone.

They also rotated the cooking and cleanup chores. She had expected to do all the work despite the agreement, and it bothered Marc to see her staring, wondering if he was up to something. She was jumpy, always reaching for the comfort of her gun. She never asked if they were safe; she wouldn’t have believed him anyway if he said yes. He was doing things to make her feel better, like walking the perimeter often and always using the motion alarms. Marc was determined to show her that he could keep her alive, that she could count on him. He also kept his distance and kept his mouth shut, sure that when she relaxed a little more, she would remember he was the man who had taken her virginity with sweetness and care.

Feeling himself stir at that hot, shadowy memory, Marc motioned the wolf to stay as he pulled on his coat, then stepped into the cold Illinois air.

They were camped in a large, one-room log cabin deep in the Eagle Creek Recreation area. This particular building had been chosen for its complete lack of Christmas decorations. The area he had chosen was on the farthest edge of the resort complex, away from the main clubhouse and lavish apartments. He’d shunned the golf side, choosing to hole up in the campground. It was almost serene here, with no visible damage from the St. Louis quake zone, thanks to the thick forest.

The cabin had a tiny yard lined in dense willow and oak trees that hung over the rustic porch rails. Marc hefted himself into the canopy, wanting to see who was around, but even with his scope, the leaves were too thick to see the wealthier area. Only the shadows of blackened foliage told him Angie’s words of a huge fire were true. Not that he’d doubted her.

Frowning, Marc stayed in the tree. Their first week together had been smooth. He tried to make things easy for her, but she was stubborn, always insisting on the hardest path. The tone of desperation in her voice begged for another mile each time he asked if she was ready to stop for the night; he always gave in. As a result, she was exhausted and he was tired–so much that they weren’t unpacking anything but bedrolls and the heater most nights. Marc sighed again. She needed a break. Soon, we both will.

2

Angela awoke abruptly, instantly sure she was alone in the chilly room. She concentrated, worried Marc had tired of babysitting her and left.

She found him outside and tried to relax. Between the fear of Kenny’s reaction hanging over her like a noose and her dreams of the twins, she was freaking out a little. Marc did things to make her feel better, but there would be hell to pay once Kenny–

Something’s coming.

A door appeared in her mind, pulling.

She immediately twisted the knob. The brothers?! Are they coming for me now?!

An icy wind blew her hair around as she waited in the doorway, knowing not to go further. She shivered as she peered into another world.

This landscape was blanketed by a thick blizzard and dotted with the shadowy forms of people, but only one of them–a dirty blonde with a nasty limp–appeared alive as she plowed determinedly through the drifts. She came toward where Angela stood on the threshold; the edges of her filthy trench coat dragged over the deep snow, leaving a clear trail.

This world was solid white except for the people; even the trees were bent, covered in ice. Angela thought she saw a pack of dogs in the far distance, but she wasn’t sure.

The other freezing souls paid no attention to the open door, but the blonde limped straight toward Angela, frozen eyelashes glistening like jewels. It’s coming. Get ready.

A radar map glowed in the woman’s eyes like an old weather broadcast.

Angela’s heart raced as she realized she and Marc weren’t the only ones in the path of the massive winter storm moving in from the south. Her son was in danger, along with all the other people Kenn had joined.

A strong wind pushed against her. The door slammed shut.

Angela jerked upright, eyes flying open. Fear raced through Angela. I have to call Kenny. He was about to find out the first rule she had broken. He would know for sure that she was on her way.

Angela rose, pulling on her coat. I need to get stronger, fast.

3

Angela went out to the porch. She found Marc instantly, though she couldn’t see him from the doorway.

When she came into view and peered up with a hand over her eyes, Marc frowned. “Did you sense me?”

She shrugged, not entirely comfortable talking to him about the things she could do. “I’m not sure.”

Marc dropped down onto the ground by the porch. “You all right?”

“I’ll be better when we’re rolling again.” She lit a smoke, preparing herself to take a chance. Will he believe me?

Marc knew something was wrong. It was in her body language. “What’s up?”

Angela drew in a deep breath. “There’s a bad storm coming. A winter storm.”

“Snow?”

“A lot. And it’s going to get very cold.” She didn’t look at him. “I’ve got a roll of plastic.”

“Okay. I’ve got a staple gun and duct tape.”

His unquestioning acceptance brought her eyes up. They stared, able to feel that old connection wanting to grow again.

He glanced away before she could. “What smells so good?”

“Omelets.” She went back in to the stove. “It’s all rehydrated or powdered, so don’t expect much.”

Powdered eggs suck.

Angela continued cooking with a chuckle of agreement, not searching for his thoughts but not blocking them either.

“Can I do anything?” He hung up his jacket and followed her, mindful about keeping his distance. Did she cook a satisfying meal to soften me up in case I got upset at the news? I’ll bet that’s why she put on the thicker coat too and hasn’t removed it yet–a cushion for any blows.

Angela winced at his accurate guess. She slipped out of the coat and draped it over a chair. He’s smart. It took Kenny months to figure out those defenses. “Teach me some fighting stuff today after lunch?”

Marc didn’t push, though her reaction was a confirmation. It was important that she learned to trust him first. “Sure. We’ll start with the basics and go from there.”

“No. I need something I can use now.”

Her insistent tone bothered him. “I know quick ways, but they’re for Marines. Not pretty.”

Angela shrugged, brushing a stray curl behind her ear as she shut off the stove. “Pretty doesn’t matter. Results do.”

He shrugged. “Remember you said that.”

Angela frowned at the second warning, but she didn’t ask for details or change her mind as she handed him a plate and sat on the farthest end of the couch. “I will. Let’s eat.”

Angela wrote in her journal during the meal, then bundled up and slipped out the door without a word.

Marc gestured Dog to follow her, worrying. Where was the carefree young girl who had insisted on building a clubhouse in the middle of a snowstorm? Where was the innocent enchantress he had eased into womanhood and how could he get her back? There has to be a way.

When he stepped out, Marc was surprised by how much gear she already had stacked on the porch. Obviously, she was serious about the storm. He kept his eyes from lingering on the rounded ass sticking from her Blazer each time she retrieved something. He carried her things inside instead.

Coming back out for the last load, he noticed the temperature. It had dropped nearly 5° in less than two hours. That definitely wasn’t normal, and it confirmed her warning. Again, not that he’d really doubted. Her gift had always been a part of their lives and one of the reasons his mother had been so against her being in the family, but it didn’t bother him anymore now than it had then. Her gift was useful. Marc had often wondered what it would be like to experience things the way she did, but he didn’t envy her abilities. He knew she paid a terrible price for them. “Need some help?”

Angela hadn’t known he was right behind her. Marc saw her hand flinch down before she stopped herself.

“I’ve got it.”

Her tone was sharp. Marc backed off, stepping through thick Bermuda grass to get his things. She was keeping the wall up between them. He would respect her wishes. For now.

It took them half an hour to improve the cabin’s temperature, using large sheets of plastic to enclose the area around the couch. They worked together in silence, Angela anticipating his needs as she had when they were kids. When they dug out warmer clothes, Marc tossed a plastic-wrapped pouch on her bedroll. “Thermal blanket. It was a part of my sniper gear.”

She tossed a similar package onto the couch, trying not to frown. “He left some of his things behind this time.”

Their similarity, from supplies to transportation, made them both sad. It also increased Marc’s uneasiness about the future. Her man has sniper training too. Great.

4

Angela tried to stay calm. She hoped Marc wouldn’t hurt her; she flinched as the door opened and he came in from doing a walk of the perimeter.

“Ready for your first lesson?”

She rubbed sweaty palms down her jeans. “In here?”

He motioned at the small area, aware of how uncomfortable she was. “Warmer in here, more room out there. You pick.”

“Outside.” Angela hoped the cold might distract her from her fear of being touched, of being hurt. She was already shaking. She drew in a deep, calming breath as she stopped at the foot of the stairs.

Dog moved through the brush and debris around their location, ears straining for sounds that didn’t belong.

Marc took off his gun belts and set them on the porch. He studied the fear as he stalked toward her. “We can start out slower.”

Angela shook her head. “I can do this.”

Marc began to circle her, steps barely making any noise. “I believe that too. Just remember to think.”

She nodded.

He rushed her.

Marc swung a leg behind her knee and gently took them to the ground. He braced on his own arm, not letting his weight fall on her. His mind switched into cadet training.

Fear burst through her like a rocket. Angela struggled thoughtlessly.

Marc clenched his teeth in an effort to stay soft. She feels good! “Rubbin’ that body against a man won’t make him stop, honey.”

Angela froze, cheeks bright red. “I don’t want–”

“You can’t talk your way out, either. You have to think and then act. Lock your ankles together and try to throw me off.”

She did as he said, heart pounding, mind screaming.

Marc forced her to meet his eyes. “You have to get in control of it, Angie. Being scared makes you human, but you have to think. Your hands should be trying to find a weapon, while your legs keep trying to throw me off. Your gun, my knife, a rock–anything in reach–and don’t waste your time yelling. It’ll only tire you out.”

Angela sucked in air, closing her eyes against the fear.

“I’ll be saying things, pawing at you, but surprise is your weapon. Distract me and then bite, punch, kick; do whatever it takes, but don’t let me roll you over.”

It was hard to concentrate when she wanted him off her.

Marc raised a brow. “Make me.”

She surprised him with a gentle head butt to the chin. They struggled against each other, Marc using only pressure, no pain. Her fear was intense, preventing his body from responding. After a full minute, he let her roll him over and off.

She was on her feet in an instant, hair wild, eyes flashing.

Marc didn’t let her call it quits. “Lesson two. When a man corners a woman, he waits to see if she’s a runner or a fighter. Your body language will tell him how to prepare for you. Again, surprise is your weapon. Keep your hands at your sides. Make him think you’ve frozen, and when he moves in, cup your hands into a fist and bring them up at the same time as your knee. Pound his nuts into his stomach and run for a weapon or your car. If you miss, you’ll be on the ground again. Ready?”

Angela was glad he had given her the warning this time, but she couldn’t help freezing when he rushed her. They were on the ground again a second later.

“Lock those ankles. Use your knees! You can’t hurt me, but I could hurt you, if I were a bad man. You need to pretend that I am.”

She answered him with a harder hit to the chin that sent tiny stars across his vision. He let her roll them over again.

Angela quickly gained her feet for a second time.

Marc did a quick scan of the area as he got up. Clear. “Very good. Ready?” He moved in before she could respond.

Angela remembered to drop her hands, but she was afraid to hit him, terrified he would hurt her, as Kenny had so many times.

Marc tripped her easily, taking them down again. This time, her arms were pinned by his chest and the heavy weight of his body. “Don’t roll over and don’t unlock those ankles!”

Angela twisted her hips to loosen her hands. She flung a handful of dust halfheartedly in his direction.

Her knee brushed his groin, and again, he let her roll free.

She got up slower this time, winded as she tried to remember his instructions through the fear.

Marc realized he was going to have to use a different method to circumvent her terror. She had to handle him as a stranger.

He retreated a bit, ignoring the heart that didn’t want her to be afraid of him for any reason or length of time. She froze whenever he got close, obviously afraid of what would happen afterward if she hurt him, which she couldn’t. He needed to reach the place inside that came out when survival was on the line, so she would remember how to handle herself when it counted.

“Not going to the ground means the difference between rape and escape. You have to stop me by any means necessary.”

Angela frowned, retreating as he advanced. “I can’t just attack you.”

“I’m gonna make it so you can. Remember to think.” Marc gave an honest leer. “Pretty bitch.” He mimicked the brothers’ menacing tone and words perfectly. Marc hated her reaction, but he didn’t stop, forcing her to deal with it. “How ’bout a kiss? Been alone a long time.”

Angela carefully retreated, observing his face and not his hands or body. At least she knew that much. He rushed her.

Angela brought a hand and knee up together. Neither said a word, Marc only letting his body strain against hers.

It took him a full minute to get her off her feet this time, Marc not trying, of course. Once on the ground, he kept her there, showing her where to hit, scratch, kick, punch.

A few minutes later, Angela knew she was done and stilled. She shut her eyes so Marc wouldn’t see how afraid she was. “Done now… Let me up.”

To her great relief, his weight was gone an instant later. There was no way she could have stopped him. She knew he felt her shaking when she allowed him to pull her to her feet. She let go and put some distance between them, stomach aching.

“You okay?”

Her words were breathy. “Good...exercise, even if I don’t...learn anything.”

“You will.”

Their eyes met, sparked. Hers darted away, making his brow pucker. He had provoked real fear to teach, but it had taken so little!

“I’ll work on it. Again...tomorrow?”

He was surprised she wanted to. “Absolutely. You did great. Next time, I’ll teach you ways to keep anyone from getting close enough to grab you.”

She nodded, sweating despite the chill in the gusting wind. She didn’t notice the wolf on the porch, but Marc did and was glad. He was never completely sure the animal would return from his runs.

“Cool. Guns now?”

He considered. He had shown her proper cleaning and hand positions, and they’d done some dry fire exercises, but she needed to practice, and that made noise. It would draw attention they weren’t ready to handle. “Not until we leave. For today, we’ll use something quieter.”

Pulse and respiration ragged, she only motioned agreement as they headed in, unwilling to ask for more. She needed to get used to caring for herself. Isn’t that why I called him, to teach me?

“You mean that?”

Angela was surprised he was picking up her thoughts. The expression on his face said he hadn’t been expecting it either. The moment hung between them like a flame in the darkness. Back in the old days, they’d been open to each other in every way.

“Yes. Will you?”

He glanced away. Her eyes are still the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. “Absolutely.” He dug in his kit. “I found this in Mattoon.” He handed her a small, purple gift bag from his kit. It held an orange dart gun with half a dozen darts and a paper target.

Angela saw the benefits even as she laughed at the toy. “I’ll treasure it always.”

Marc taped the target to the wall.

She loaded the bright orange weapon and began to practice.

Marc stayed in a rear corner, occasionally offering corrections while trying not to sniff his hands. They reeked of her vanilla scent. He kept a groan to himself. Damn, I’ve got it bad.

When Angela looked around a bit later, Dog was at the door, gray ears up, reddish-black nose down, observing contentedly.

Marc had settled on the couch to clean his guns.

Angela felt peace and bitterness battling for space in her heart. This is how it should have been for us. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.

5

After a quiet meal of beans and Bambi, they went outside for bathroom breaks before the storm hit. It wasn’t quite dark yet, but they were nervous upon moving outside. The amount of snow that had already fallen was amazing. It was coming down in thick sheets, with six inches of the dirty grey flakes covering everything in only two hours. The wind swirled flakes into tiny tornadoes that raced across the cornfield and slammed apart against broken stalks and their tarp covered vehicles.

The pair split up wordlessly.

Marc waved the wolf after her as she stepped out of his sight behind a wide, icing tree. The wind howled, growing stronger. Snowy wind whipped, producing a whiteout effect the flashlights around their necks barely penetrated. Marc made a fast round of the perimeter to uncover alarms, then joined her on the porch.

Angela didn’t look at him; she didn’t want Marc to see how scared she was. I have to warn Kenny this is coming. “I’ll be out here a few minutes.”

Marc heard both statements. He wanted to listen somehow. He shut the cabin door instead, jealousy burning in his heart. A moment later, a powerful wave of energy vibrated in his teeth as it rushed over miles and miles of broken ground. He was hit with the urge to interrupt, to make his presence as her protector known, but that would give away the element of surprise. The Marine inside held him in check.

Marc sat on the couch to clean his guns. Again.

6

Angela slammed the door in her mind, trying to stop crying and shaking. Kenny was so mad! His anger had always terrified her. Today was no different.

She wiped at her face as she went inside. He wanted her to go back to Ohio; he said he would come get her when he was ready, but she could hear him wishing she would die anywhere along the way. Under the layers of fear, she was furious and more determined than ever. I’ll never give up. Never!

Marc saw her face as she and Dog came in. Acid began to burn a hole in his gut. Her man couldn’t reach her physically, but he could emotionally, and he had. Her face was tear-streaked; her beautiful black hair was flecked with dirty snow. “You okay?”

“Not even, but I can’t fix it from here.” She hung up her coat, voice emotionless. “Montana by the end of March sound right?”

That was exactly what he’d figured. Marc nodded. “Faster if we do some night traveling.”

Angela sat on the couch and pulled the quilt around her shoulders, unable to stop hearing the threats, the ugliness. Kenny had been angry from the start, but he had spun out of control suddenly and started screaming. She tensed. Did he see something when I showed him the storm? Icy terror sank into her heart. Does Kenny know I’m not alone?

Angela flinched as Marc pushed the heater closer to her.

Marc wished there was something he could do to make her feel better. When he looked up, she was staring at him with a desperate glare in her eyes.

“Tell me you’ll support me, no matter what. Tell me the code, the Corps, and everything else comes second to me.”

Marc sighed bitterly. “Wasn’t it always that way? According to our family, I went against them and God to have you, and there was never a second that I wouldn’t have come if you’d called.” He snorted. “Obviously, there still isn’t.”

Angela gave him a shaky smile. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Marc clamped down on another attempt to get her to change her mind. “Me too. Fifteen years was a long time.”

Angela shuddered, closing her mouth on the hell she’d been through. Only the future mattered, and that was Kenny. He was a violent man. Finding her and Marc together might be enough to send him over the edge, especially if he snuck up on them and saw the sparks. Blood would spill then; her son’s parentage wouldn’t even be an issue.

7

The frustrated twins watched the couple, both unhappy with the fighting lesson they had witnessed through shared binoculars.

The snow had Dean and Dillan pinned down in a thermal tent. They were unable to get closer because of the wolf and the tracks they would be too injured to cover. Forced to wait until the storm broke and their wounds healed, the brothers were studying every move the man and woman made as they plotted their revenge.

Shooting was talked about, as was an open ambush during the next fighting lesson, but neither plan was put into action. In their conditions–both their wounds were angry and leaking–they couldn’t be sure of victory. The twins chose to keep waiting for their moment of triumph.

8

Angela’s dreams were worse than usual. She jerked awake to find Marc already sitting up, staring at her in concern.

“Is there a problem?”

“Just in my brain.” She kept the thick quilt around her shoulders as she stumbled to the door. She slipped outside, not bothering with shoes.

“Dog, guard.”

The wolf followed her, eager to be outside where he could smell things.

Marc got up. She was jumpier now than she had been when they were reunited. She couldn’t sleep more than a few hours without nightmares interrupting. It made him nervous, and pissed him off. Her man would be taught a lesson. How harsh, was the only unknown.

Marc slid his guns into his holsters with a feeling of completeness he knew not to put faith in. Being good with a weapon wasn’t enough now. Instincts mattered, and his was telling him the time had come to fix this mess. He was a United States Marine. It was his duty to give her freedom.

Angela sat in the rear seat of her Blazer; the open door let dark flakes swirl inside. Her mind was stuck in the past. Kenny’s violence, childhood demons, and the horrors since the war mixed together to create a vision that made her wish she didn’t have to sleep. She would never have an unbroken night’s rest again until she was back with her son.

The arms of your new guardian might ease these things. His heart is pure.

Angela frowned at the wolf. She had little doubt it would work, but Marc would never offer, and she couldn’t imagine asking. It went against everything she’d had beaten into her.

This man is not the same. He is yours.

She shook her head. “Not anymore. That was a long time ago.” So why does it feel like it was yesterday?

Her heart sobbed, giving the answer Kenny could never be allowed to discover. Because I lied. I still love Marc. I never stopped.