The Survivors

Dangerous Secrets

February 10th

1

“Angie!”

Marc snapped out of the nightmare. He focused on steamed windows as sweat rolled down his neck in torrents.

He could still see Angie’s long, brittle hair flaring in the dust; blood smeared footprints had stretched out behind her as she walked the broken landscape, searching for her son. The victims from his draft escape followed on her heels. Was it a dream or a warning? There was no way to know for sure.

Marc snapped his seatbelt over his long black coat. It didn’t matter. Wherever she went, he would find her.

A soft whine echoed.

Marc glanced over his shoulder at the animal curled up on the rear seat. “How’s it hangin’, Dog?”

The big timber wolf ducked his snout under a wide paw and groaned.

Marc grunted agreement, wishing the sun would hurry and rise so he could make better time. He was sick of the damp, cold air that always hinted of snow. “Just a few more days and then we’ll take a break, get me some hot food and extra sleep, and there’s Kibble for you.”

Not more of the crusty crunchy! The blackish-red and gray animal rolled over and stared at his master upside down with piercing gold eyes full of impatience. I can hunt, you know.

Marc yawned again, wanting a shave and shower. He swallowed a pill instead. He needed to be alert enough to drive. He was exhausted. He had made two hundred fifty miles in eleven days, with over half of it in the last five. He’d even been eating while he traveled, and only pulled over whenever he couldn’t stay awake any longer.

Marc calculated Angie was only a hundred miles ahead of him now. He’d pushed hard to get here. As a result, he wasn’t completely sure where in southwest Ohio he had stopped. The roads here were unbelievable. Some intersections required hours to get through. It had taken him a full day to cross the suspension bridge from Kentucky. It would have been faster if he’d left his vehicle behind, but Marc wouldn’t unless he had another one lined up.

He rolled the window down to view the foggy street sign.

The first thing he noticed was the billboard above him wishing the city of Cincinnati a happy, prosperous New Year.

“Some great joke.” Marc scanned the muddy, rusting CSX rail yard that was under inches of sludge. The dark trestles were barely visible. Even the graffiti (Die Milton! Hondo eats draft ballz. Px2012 yo!) looked as if it had been there for years instead of eight weeks.

Nothing moved around the dirty suspension bridge swaying precariously behind him, just the same wind and rain blown debris that was everywhere. The burned frames of two Hum-vees with charred Wright Patterson logos stared in reproach. Both had crashed into a thicket of dead and dying pines.

It was bad here. Marc was glad Angie had left, even though he was worried about her being alone. Clearly, it had become too dangerous to stay.

Marc consulted the map. Where am I?

His heart leapt as he figured out his location. Close.

Marc got rolling, scanning the foggy city for trouble. He found nothing, but the sense of a problem coming lifted his neck hair again.

Dog came up to the front seat and dropped into the passenger side. He pawed the button for the warmer, then sank down. He stretched his head over and rested it on Marc’s knee.

Marc rolled up Queen City Hill, not worried about the cleared lanes. It had probably happened in the first weeks after the war, when some cities had tried to recover. Then the power had gone off.

Marc wondered again why he was here. Angie had a man. Why wasn’t he helping get their son back? Had her husband run out on her? Maybe he’d been taken in the draft, along with the boy. That made sense.

Maybe he’s dead. Marc’s heart whispered the alternative.

Marc shoved the secret desire away as he braked in front of the brick apartment building. He’d come here a decade ago, but hadn’t possessed the courage, or the callousness, to knock. She’d had a new life by then; it didn’t include him. He’d had no right to disrupt her happiness.

Marc had returned to duty and thrown himself into his career. By saving, fixing, impressing, he’d ended up in MARSOC, where they used his brains as well as his brawn. But he had never married. He was unable to settle for another female. He’d never regretted loving Angie, only that he’d let them be caught before they could run.

“She’s not here now. Place is empty.” Marc scolded himself again for coming. Chasing ghosts was always a bad idea, but here he was, drawn into the past. He had spent his adult life trying to convince himself that it hadn’t meant much, that she hadn’t been the one. Marc was filled with familiar shame. He’d taken advantage of her. He’d known it was wrong, but he had been unable to resist, and oh God, hadn’t every orgasm since paled in comparison?

I just want to know what kind of life she’s had. That’s why I came–recon. I don’t want to face her in the dark.

He left the engine running, Dog watching anxiously through the dirty window. He didn’t lock the door, though the remote entry was in his pocket. Anyone who tried to enter the Blazer would get a major surprise.

Marc jogged through the drizzle to the front of the building, noting a burnt truck by an oak tree that had been hit by something harsh.

Marc slid his coat behind his holsters as he opened the cracked glass door.

The dark hallway smelled like burnt sugar. Two sheets of paper on the carpeted floor caught his attention. Marc knew instinctively who had written them.

I’ll settle for whatever’s in that letter. Marc flipped on his penlight and retrieved the pages from the mud tracked carpet. He didn’t really want to go in the home where some lucky bastard had lived the life he had dreamed about every night since being ripped from Angela’s side. Marc read the letter with a sharp curiosity that missed little.

Charlie, lock yourself in and be as quiet as you can. Do it right now!

If you’re reading this, either we missed each other, or I didn’t survive the trip. I’m terrified of that, of leaving you on your own. I wish I could be with you! I love you. I miss you so much it’s like there’s a knife in my gut.

I have a big secret to tell you, one that was supposed to wait until you were grown and out of the house. Kenny is not your dad. I know you’ve suspected, but I couldn’t tell you before. I’m sure you understand why. Your dad is Marcus Charles Brady.

Our family was strict Christian. When your dad and I fell for each other, cousins by marriage, it was too close for anyone to accept. We didn’t plan on it; we were swept away. We had decided to leave when I was older, but fate didn’t give us time. A bit after your dad was sent away, I realized you were coming, and I wanted you more than anything. I didn’t tell anyone. I just ran as fast as I could. The family had legal control until I was of age. They could have taken you. Worse, I’ll always believe they would have made me get an abortion. So I ran.

And Kenny found me. Kenny and I made a deal that said we would become his obedient family. It seemed like the best I could do at the time. I know it was the wrong choice. How could I not know, when I can feel it in your looks? He’s been our master.

Yet, after all that’s happened, he has chosen not to come back. He’s tired of me. That only leaves one person you can trust–your real dad. You have to call Marc. You know what I mean by that. He’ll come once he knows it’s true. I’m sorry I never told him, never gave him the chance to be your father. He had no idea you existed, or he would have come for us. I know it in my...

Marc stopped reading. Anger, guilt, and joy warred in his heart. He had a son. We made a baby! She should have told me! I would have come back a happy man.

Really? His mind was cruel. You wouldn’t have felt like a criminal, sure it was wrong?

Marc let out a harsh sound. That’s exactly how it would have felt back then, but it didn’t matter. He hadn’t knocked, and she’d been forced to survive on her own. “I should have talked to her that day.”

“Yes,” another voice answered. “You should have.”

Marc drew his gun as he turned.

“You must be the sinner she talks about in the letter. Her lover.” Warren sneered, pain on his face.

Marc took in the clothes, and the charred skin, connecting him to the wreck outside. Marc was suddenly sure the preacher had forced Angie to defend herself. “You’re the reason she couldn’t wait here for me.”

Warren scowled at the confirmation of their relationship, lifting his own gun as he came out of the dark corner where he’d been lurking. “My daughter and my leadership are gone because of the witch. Will she come back for you?”

Marc’s anger grew. “She’s not who you should worry about.” Marc’s Colt barked in a flash of death before Warren could fire.

Warren’s gun dropped to the carpeted floor, blood blooming on his chest. The broken preacher dropped to his knees as blood ran from a corner of his mouth.

Marc stared at the shuddering man for whom death was fast approaching. When Warren’s mouth opened but no sound came out, Marc understood anyway. “She’s not here to serve any man. She’s special.”

“A demon!” Warren choked out.

Marc’s sympathy vanished. He watched the preacher take his last breath while either thunder or gunfire cracked in the distance. “You’re no better. You had no right to judge.”

2

After pulling Warren’s cooling corpse around the corner of the building, Marc put the papers back together on the glass door, where he was sure the letter had originally been.

He returned to his warm vehicle, giving the anxious wolf a quick rub of comfort. He flipped on the wipers to clear the heavy layer of rain thumping on the window, then wiped the stinking liquid from his hands.

Marc called out as the riot ravaged streets of Cincinnati rolled by. He had to know she was okay. Angie!

He hit the brakes as a child’s faded ball rolled across the dirty pavement. He rolled on. Angie!

I’m here.

“Where? I just left Queen City Hill.”

Angela hesitated, knowing by his tone that he had read the letter meant for their son. How long has he known where I lived?

“Angie?”

I’m ten miles north of Greensburg, Indiana.

“I understand why you didn’t tell me, but I wish you had. I’m thrilled.”

She sent a clear warning. He’s mine. Parentage doesn’t matter.

Marc didn’t respond, though he wanted to. If she sensed the things floating through his mind, she would disappear. It hit him again. I have a son! It was a reason to have hope, a goal. His heart was lighter than it had been since the war. He would now serve his child…and maybe that child’s mother. “I ran into a friend of yours here. He had some burns.” Marc could feel her scowling at the words. He was aware of Dog observing alertly.

Warren. He’s dead?

Now, Marc was the one frowning. Something else she should have mentioned…though she hadn’t known he would go there. “Yes.”

I had hoped he was no longer a threat.

“It was his choice.”

Silence hung between them for a moment, broken by the drumming rain and squeak of his wipers, but the connection between them was strong. It allowed him to hear stray noises–a clink, a snap, a grunt of effort. She was breaking camp. She didn’t want him around yet. “Where are you holed up?”

Marc felt her wondering how he knew she wasn’t on the road, but she didn’t ask. That meant she didn’t know how much he was picking up. Good. More time to recon.

I’m in a cornfield off Highway 3.

“You could stay there, take a break for the holiday. It wouldn’t take me long to catch up.” He sent the option carefully, not mentioning Valentine’s Day by name.

No.

He was glad she didn’t sound mad, but he still frowned at how set her tone was. “You okay?” Marc was flooded by the old need to protect her.

I’m fine.

“Okay… I can’t wait to see you.”

The words were normal for the situation, but she couldn’t mistake his eagerness.

Another cold warning rushed out to slap at him.

Nothing’s changed for us, Marc. Don’t think it has.

“I don’t, but I had reasons, Angie.”

I don’t care. It doesn’t matter. Only my son does.

Marc wished he could see her, so he would know if she really meant that. He couldn’t say it and mean it.

Angela let go of the connection.

Marc didn’t protest as he steered around fresh bodies. She wasn’t ready to deal with him yet. She probably hated him, despite what she had written to soothe their child. He would let her have the lead when it came to settling their past. If he pushed, she would slip away. If he wanted to get to know his child, he needed her along.

If? A big grin filled Marc’s face. There was no if. He would track her down if he had to, but as long as he made it clear that he wouldn’t hound her, things should be okay. She would have her missing child and he would only ask for time with the son he hadn’t known existed. Marc was a little surprised by how much he already wanted the boy. His heart liked it that their love had created a life. He was grateful for the chance to love again.

In Indiana, Angie got into the driver’s seat of her Blazer, emotions chaotic. If Marc was in Cincinnati now, he was a week behind her. Angela wanted to keep that distance a bit longer. She needed to be able to look back after this was all over and know she had gotten the journey started. She was also stalling. She had no idea how to ask Marc for what she needed. Only a fool would agree and that, Marc had never been.