Page 8 of Desolation

“We are frogmen.”

Were. I think to myself but don’t say anything. I stick my hand out and shake his. “Landon Thompson.”

“Good to meet you, brother. Let’s get to work.”

* * *

I open the door to my apartment and walk into the kitchen, tossing my keys on the counter. I pull open the fridge but I haven’t gone to the store in a week. There’s only half a gallon of milk and a few pieces of cheese. I hate grocery shopping because I hate cooking. I tend to buy a shit ton of pre-cooked chicken, some eggs, avocado, and cheese and call it a day.

I groan as I shut the door. I flip through my phone to find something for delivery and settle on tacos. I need to stop eating out, my figure is paying for it. Not really, I am still two hundred plus pounds of lean muscle but I feel like my six-pack is turning into four.

Unacceptable.

I head into my bedroom and change into workout clothes. I have forty-five minutes until my food gets here so I head down to the gym in my building. It’s not my ideal gym but it’s a forty-minute drive to base on a good day and I am not in the mood for a drive.

I run for twenty minutes until my body is pouring sweat. I switch to weights and let all my aggression and annoyance from the day fade away with each repetition. My mind gets clearer as I force my body to overdo it. My muscles strain and ache but I keep pushing through. Keeping my eye trained toward the horizon, knowing it will get better. Fuck a therapist. This is all I need.

My phone vibrates in my pocket and see that my dinner is here.

I put the weights away and towel off my face before running up four sets of stairs. What can I say, it’s an extra workout that’s better than taking the elevator. I grab cash to tip the delivery driver and head out to my tiny balcony to eat my dinner.

I can just make out the crashing waves of the ocean. I wanted to live closer to base so I could be near my friends but living on the water there wasn’t something I could afford. This place was a lot cheaper and is only two blocks from the beach. I can smell the saltwater in the air and it brings a sense of peace to me as I eat dinner.

Now if only I could get that peace to last.

Chapter Four

Mari

I sit on an old brown rayon couch and pick at the fabric as I listen to the counselor talk to me. I tune out most of it as it’s the same thing I’ve heard before.

“Marianne, it’s been a week since you came to us. We usually let women stay here for two weeks before moving them to a permanent residence. Your husband won’t be able to find you. We have secure housing. But keeping you here is keeping others from finding refuge.”

They max out most people at two weeks. Three weeks is the longest due to finding a place for a family to live. But someone single like me should have been out by now.

“Now we have housing from here to LA and as far north as Santa Barbara.”

I honestly thought I would have my shit figured out. My mom says that Michael hasn’t been asking about me but I don’t want to risk moving somewhere he could have me followed. I just need Dax to get home. I know I can stay with him.

“Mari, are you listening? This is your chance to start over.”

I look up at her and nod.

“Here is a list of some of the places we have apartments. Read over the cities and towns. See if there is any place you would prefer to live.”

I grab the papers she is holding out to me and stand. I walk out of the office without speaking a word.

I walk down the hall to my room and unlock the door. I throw the papers on the desk and pace. I just need Dax to call me. As if on cue my phone starts to vibrate in my purse. Another reason I keep the damn door locked. We aren’t allowed to have phones here for the safety of everyone else. But I managed to sneak one in.

I dig for the phone and see Dax’s number pop up.

I breathe a sigh of relief as I answer. “You’re home?”

“Well, hello to you too, Mari.” I hear him scuffle around his house in the background. “But yeah, I am home. How are you holding up?”

I groan into the phone, trying to keep as quiet as possible. “I can’t figure out shit, Dax.”

“I wasn’t asking about that. I was asking about you.”

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