Ch - XVIII The Waiting Of Dawn

Both Finn and Macy, got shelter in an abandoned place still sore from the aftermath...

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

 

Macy’s heart stopped and her eyes went blank with the sound as she was about to go senseless.

Then she heard a hooligan b*****d shouted on the other side.

“He jumped in the river,” a b*****d called out to his other b******s which bring Macy back to life again before she was about to faint.

Finn and Macy heard the b******s shooting at the water, calling out to someone to come join them on the bridge.

Then nothing.

Macy didn’t breathe. Her shoulders hunched over like she was drawing inward, protecting herself from harm. The woman grew smaller before Finn’s eyes and there wasn’t s**t he could do.

“You heard the man. Let’s move.” Finn grabbed her shirt, dragging her back. There was the sound of a car engine running up on the other side. His heart beat harder, faster, rattling his rib cage. “He’ll catch up. Move, Macy. They’re going to be searching for a way around.”

She stared at him with eyes blank as the dead. The material in his fist stretched and strained, ready to rip. The woman didn’t move an inch.

“Macy. I need you to keep it together and move.”

Nothing.

“MACY”

Her gaze slide back to the wreck. The trauma, taking her over till she shook like she held a live wire in her hand.

Finn grabbed her chin. Beneath the dirt her cheekbones stood out starkly, as if the life was being sucked out of her. She bucked against him, trying to turn away. He got up in her face and prayed she understood. They didn’t have time for this. Not now. No time for pain in his shoulder making him dizzy. No time for her to mourn. “Listen to me. We have to go. Now. Do you understand?” Finn shouted.

“He�"”   …Macy barely spoke..

“No. Now!” he snapped.

“Yes. Alright.” Her movements were sluggish and slow, deliberate. She carry his backpack up onto her shoulders, her back bowing beneath the weight, but her feet moving forward.

He kept her in motion. People had survived worse, she would too.

They stumbled along beside the tracks until a break in the fence gave them their exit. Smoke drifted overhead, the smell of burning wood and worse filling his head. He just needed to get them clear of the scene. Then they would be fine. Clear of the scene and clear of this f**king city.

No sound of engines getting closer. Nothing stirred. The sun had barely risen any further than when they had started out.

“God, Finn.” She said.

“Hmm?”  Finn looked at her in response.

She was looking back. Not the wisest thing to do.

The sun rose over a black wasteland, the remains of the city smoldering still. In the distance the fire raged on, consuming everything.

Almost similar to after the bombings, complete and utter devastation.

“If the wind had turned …” Macy took it all in with a mix of numb wonder on her dusty face. “They’re going to have trouble getting back to the highway. It should give us some time.” She said.

Finn nodded, couldn’t speak. Yes, they were going to have a s**t of a time. She spoke the truth.

Finn bent double and took a dry sigh.

They found a safe place, an abandoned garage and Finn fall down to sleep instantly.

Finn was asleep. Macy had watched him for hours, less a few minutes spent running an errand. She had split her attention between him and the laundry door, and was guarding him, if the gun in her hand counted. At least it wasn’t shaking anymore.

Finn hadn’t moved, not since she would re-bandage his shoulder and he had popped a magical pain pill. They spoke very little.

He slept upright, his bare back propped against a concrete pillar, head relaxed back. The white bandage was bright against his tanned skin and the dark smudges of dried blood.

The garage stink of old oil stains and laundry detergent. The back door had been open, barrel bolt intact, the roller door was undamaged and locked down. It made for a perfect hidey-hole.

Except for that one infected upstairs. Every now and then it would move. The sound of a dragging footstep or two would break the silence. Creepy. Happily, there was no internal staircase for the dead to come visiting.

Between the infected and the biker a*s**les, they could easily get trapped here, sitting and waiting. They should be on the move.

Despite their various injuries they could be hot-footing it across the countryside, getting to a safer place out of reach of those a*s**les, right now. Finn hadn’t needed to say it. She knew it.

But she waited for Adrams. Apparently it hadn’t needed saying either. Finn had opened his mouth, looked at her face and shut it again without a word uttered. End of conversation. And so, they waited.

Her mind wouldn’t still . The adrenalin from this morning had crashed, leaving far too much of everything bubbling around inside her brain, none of it was good.

Adrams would find them. He would. Deep down inside it almost felt like a test of faith or some such. She just had to believe and be patient, find something to occupy her mind.

Not fixating on the door would be a positive start.

There was a rainwater tank outside. A big modern number; the type everyone had scrambled to install during the drought. She thought about the basin beside the washing machine, the pipe jutting out from the brickwork above it. They both needed a bath after lying in the dirt last night and crawling beneath the train this morning.

“You should try to sleep.” Finn’s eyes were open, half-lidded, but he hadn’t moved otherwise. He watched her with a beyond natural stillness and a calm face most probably fake.

Guilt slide through her.

“Hey,” she said.

“It’ll be okay, Macy.”

“He’ll be okay,” she corrected.

Finn gave no response.

For a long, tense moment of silence reigned supreme, almost as if they were giving the dead a minute’s tribute. Only Adrams wasn’t dead.

Not even a little.

She wrestled the panic back down, overcoming it one more time.

“We should go upstairs, see if there’s food,” Finn said.

She shook her head. “No.”

His high forehead creased, and his nostrils flared as he drew in a deep breath.

“If we’re quiet, keep our heads down, we’ll be okay. It’s a risk we need to take.” He said.

“No, Finn.”

Like magic the thing upstairs chose then to bump and grind, as if it knew it were the topic of conversation.

“S**t.” Finn straightened himself and stretched, rolling his good shoulder in slow motion. “Give me a sec. We’ll try the neighbor’s house.”

“Finn, there’s no need. This lot was getting ready to run. The car has a box of groceries, not all of them have gone off. There’s not much else, a couple of blankets, some bottled water and beer. A stack of photo albums …” She cast her eyes toward the second story, wondering. Not a good place to go. “Anyway, we’re good for the immediate future.”

“Alright.” This one word finished on a weary sigh. It seemed to say this man’s reserves were running low, and the blame lay with her.

Dark shadows sat beneath his eyes and lines bracketed his mouth. They were still in danger because she refused to move on without Adrams, and he might not be coming.

Except he was. Nothing else was acceptable.

“He’ll come, Finn. You don’t know him. Ad is very resourceful.”

Finn did the raising of one brow thing, giving her a long look. The type that said nothing and everything. The type bound to piss her off.

“I know you think he’s�"”  she tried to speak.

“We should put a sign out, something only he’d recognize. What do you think would work best?” He cut her off neatly, face expressionless. Nothing to see here, move along.

“Oh. Well, I already took care of it,” she admitted.

His blue eyes hardened, lips flat lined. “Macy …”

“I think we have a decent water supply. The tank seems to run in to the laundry.” She waved a hand in its direction, a bit of distraction. Who had the energy for arguing? There was no softening of his glare. “Don’t go there, Finn. I was careful. It needed to be done. You needed to rest.”

The man raised a knee, draped an arm over it. It had the feel of another cop thing, the silence and watchfulness as he waited for her to stumble into his trap. He observed her, elegant face cool and composed despite the dirt and stubble.

Two months ago, his level of examination would have shaken her down to her shoes.

Now, not so much.

Things took on a different perspective when you knew what real fear was. A good cop face wouldn’t send her running for cover anytime soon.

“Do you have a spare shirt I could borrow? I want to give my clothes a wash while we have the chance.” Macy stood, brushed off her hands and butt. Like a few specks of dirt would make an imprint on top of everything else. “Anything you want done?”

“Laundry wise?” Finn said.

“Yes, laundry wise.” She needed to keep busy, keep her hands occupied.

Macy wandered over to the basin, said a silent prayer and pushed in a plug. Slowly, she turned the tap. There came a trickle of rust-colored water. A dirty dribble could be accounted to water sitting in the system, nothing to get excited about yet.

She turned the knob farther. Oh, yes. Out it came. Stupidly, her eyes welled. Adrams was missing, and she was crying over running water. How messed up. Everything inside her had been rewired wrong.

Her entire life, running water had worked just fine, her love life, not so much. Where was the balance? It served her right for letting Adrams be her balancing stick. Now her weak knees were quaking.

Running water didn’t begin to fix the wrongs. But, it did give her hands something to do. A bar of old yellow soap, cracked with age, sat on the sink just waiting for her. She set to it with a vengeance.

Macy scrubbed her arms and hands, built up a lather to wash her face. The need to get the dirt off was all consuming. When he walked in, she would be waiting, in one piece, not looking as if she had been rolling in mud.

F**k no, she would pretty herself up for her man. Hope is a torturous creature.

Strands of hair stuck to her wet face and Finn’s hands were there, pulling them back. He make her ponytail. She could feel the warmth of him at her back, not quite touching, but near enough to soothe and scare.

She wanted Adrams, and she wanted to feel safe. These days, she wanted all sorts of s**t she couldn’t have.

Finn took a step back and she breathed easier.

“I get that you needed to do it. Just wake me next time. You can’t go out on your own, Macy.”

“S**t. I’ve got soap in my eyes.” Macy fumbled around for the hand towel that had been hanging from a hook beside the trough. “Damn it.”

“Hang on.” Finn said.

Something soft and dry dabbed at her face. She dared blinking. That was one thing that hadn’t changed �" getting soap in your eyes still sucked. “Thank you.” She said.

Finn’s face was solemn, mouth set and eyes decades older than they should have been. His gaze made her feel juvenile, foolish. Like she had hurt him somehow, disappointed him.

Making the mad dash outside had seemed perfectly reasonable at the time. Why did she feel yet more guilt creeping up on her?

“What sign did you put out there?” Finn asked.

“Oh, it’s subtle. Don’t worry.” Her eyes were hot, stinging from more than suds. Macy scrubbed the soap off her face, searched for a distraction to stop the tears. Every damn subject felt razor-edged. “Thanks.”

Finn tipped his chin, accepting the meager show of gratitude. “You’re welcome.”

It was wildly insufficient on her part, and she admitted it.

“For everything, I mean. In case I haven’t mentioned it before. You’ve been … amazing, Finn. really.”

Finn nodded again, set the requested t-shirt aside. His face was calm but somber, lips slightly parted and eyes full of concern. She blinked back tears like crazy, refusing to let them show. As if he was fooled.

Not even a little.

He was no more fooled than embarrassed. “You need to be more careful, Macy.”

“I know. I understand.” She said.

“Good. Because you need to give me the opportunity to watch your back. You need to trust me.” And then he turned his back, gave her a chance to shut down the waterworks. What a gentleman. After a moment or so he cleared his throat, giving her warning. “How about you wash my back and I’ll do yours. Deal?” he asked.

“How about I clean yours up, and help put on a new bandage. Deal?”.

He gave a gruff nod and showed her his back.

The intimacy of it unnerved her. So, she talked. “When I ran into Adrams I had been hiding in a neighbor’s roof for months. No baths.”

“So I’m getting off easy?” he said.

“I was … fragrant, let’s leave it at that. Once upon a time, I never bathed with veritable strangers at all .” The smile felt awkward, strained.

“Small-minded of you. There’s nothing wrong with sharing a shower with new friends.” He flashed her a grin as he glanced back over his shoulder. There and gone in a moment.

“You know, the Japanese have public bath houses, have done for centuries,” he continued on when she failed to pick up the thread of the conversation.

“I don’t believe the men and women actually mix in those.” Macy rubbed her hand against the slab of soap, working up a lather for round two. “I’ll get the dried blood off your back while you tell me tales of your youth.” She said.

“I have two older sisters. My adventures couldn’t even begin to compete.” He told.

“I’m sure you underestimate yourself.”

He flashed his teeth again.

“So you were the baby of the family.” She ran her fingers over his back, aiming for impersonal. She rubbed at the build-up of blood and dirt. Reddish-brown soap bubbles trailed down his spine, soaked into the top of his jeans. Her throat closed at the sight of the bloody gash in his shoulder. A hand-span lower and the bullet would have killed him. No Finn. The thought of it had her tearing up once more. “You’ve lost a lot of blood.”

“I’m fine.” He said.

“Got some hard evidence to the contrary back here.” Her voice wavered. Damn it.

The look he gave her over his shoulder made no sense but it froze her in place. Finn held her gaze for a long moment. And then turned away. Said nothing.

She had no idea what it meant. Her hands hovered, hesitating, waiting for enlightenment. He kept his face averted. “Finn?”.

“We should eat soon.” He said.

“Okay,” she agreed, letting it drop.

He nodded. Mission accomplished apparently, whatever the mission had been.

She couldn’t read him for s**t. Then again, she’d always been clueless when it came to the other sex. Men were complicated.

Straightforward one minute and riddles the next. In the face of her new upfront and open frame of mind, she wasn’t letting it go after all. “Finn, what was that?”

“What?”

“The look.”

“Nothing.” His tone of voice firm and flat.

Okey dokey. Apparently she hadn’t grown enough to chase it down. Awkward feelings flooded her.

“It’s a good thing you had antibiotics,” she said. An innocuous enough topic, surely.

“Got the bag of wonders.” He said.

“Yes.” She offered him a smile. He looked over his shoulder and almost returned it. The corner of his mouth hesitated at the last.

“Your bag of wonders rocks, I must say.”

“Personal preparedness. I was a Scout.” He braced his arms on the edge of the basin and dropped his head forward. She scrubbed at his back and neck, gently pushing her fingers into solid muscle. “Can you do it harder?” he asked.

“Sure.” She dug in, keeping a safe distance from his shoulder, wanting to soothe, not harm. From her, it was the least he deserved.

“Where was your family?” she asked.

“Down south. We grew up on one of the Northern Beaches, running wild half the time. I don’t know how Mum put up with us.” The strong column of his neck tensed beneath her fingers. The warmth in his voice when he talked about his family made her heart ache.

They had obviously been close, something she had never quite managed.

“How long have you been with him?” he enquired. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

“No, I don’t mind. Only a couple of days, though it feels longer. Things work differently now, don’t they?” she said,

“Times of war, the rules change.” He replied.

“War … I guess that’s one way to put it.” Her eyes bored into the back door. If she stared long and hard enough then magic might happen. Bullshit. Adrams would make it. He would.

And what the hell would he see when he walked in? Her fingers flinched back from Finn, covered in suds. “Wet the towel for me so I can clean you off, please.” She asked.

He did as asked.

“So, do I want to know what you saw when you were watching us?” she asked.

“I don’t know, Macy. Do you?” He watched her over his shoulder, something an amusement lighting the pale blue of his eyes. The corner of his mouth twitched.

The tease.

“No. No, I don’t. Forget I asked.” Heat swept her face. He handed her a wet cloth, and she washed off his back as carefully as possible, sopping up all of the gray suds. “Can I get to the water, please?”

“Let’s see … You two fight. A lot.” He turned to face her, blocking her way with his arms crossed over his chest. “Opposites attract, I guess.” She replied.

“That would be it.” He said.

“It sucked when I dropped my night-vision goggles. There lenses were smashed. I had to go by guesswork after that …”

Her jaw fell. “You did not have night-vision goggles. Pervert.”

The elegant face gave away nothing. He was joking. Had to be.

Suddenly a dimple flashed, he shrugged his shoulders. “Be fair. Without TV what was I supposed to do for entertainment?” he asked.

“Aren’t you funny?” She bumped her hip against his. “I know you’re lying.” She said.

“Do you?” he asked.

“Yep.”

“Alright then. I would hate to make you feel uncomfortable about any lewd, unnatural acts I might have witnessed.” He told her.

“I think I liked you better without a sense of humor.” The clean, if threadbare, hand towel would do fine for washing them off. “Turn around, please.” She said.

He did so without further comment. Thank God.

And he couldn’t have seen anything. Jerk.

With gentle strokes, she washed off his back, careful from touching his wound. “You’re good to go. Got more bandages?” she asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine. What about your back?”

“I haven’t been shot lately.” She replied.

“I’m not trying anything, Macy. Let me wash your back. Consider it a stress remedy.” He asked.

“Wow, that offer isn’t doubting in the least. I’m fine.” She said.

A sly sort of amusement lit his eyes. “Are you? Or are you … a chicken?” he said.

She laughed, delighted at the unexpected silliness. Amazed to be feeling anything at all. “Bawk, bawk, bawk.” He tried to tease her.

Childish sniggering was going on until a loud crash from upstairs stopped them in cold blood.

 

TO BE CONTINUED IN �" CHAPTER XIX