Page 64 of Swept Away

The last—very last—room we find is our real treasure trove. A radio room.

Lexi lets out a sobbing gasp when she sees the sign on the solid metal door, and then she tries the handle. It’s locked.

She falls forward into the door, half collapsing. As if this barrier has sucked all the energy out of her at last.

“We can break in,” I say, reaching for her arm, trying the handle like she did, just in case. “We’re so close. We can just…Surely we can…”

We yank at the handle. Hammer at the door. Go back to the tall shelves and look for something—anything—that might help us. We bruise our hands and toes. And the door just…stays locked. A big, thick, gray metal obstacle between us and the rest of the world.

Lexi sways on her feet. I move to catch her.

“You need rest,” I say.

I wince. As I steady her, it tugs on my stitches, and the pain is fierce.

“You have to lie down,” I manage.

“Not on those beds,” she says, shuddering. “I want…”

She stares at the door, tears in her eyes. I gather her into my arms, and she melts against me, damp and sea-smelling, the mostprecious person. My mind’s going full tilt, trying to think of a place I can take her that won’t feel so much like somewhere that might feature in a first-person shooter game. It’s all sobleakhere. I have this weird out-of-body moment and imagine a world where I could take Lexi to a café, or a shop, or my flat, and it’s almost painful.

“Did you see that helicopter pad through the window in the office?” I say. “That’s where our rescuers will be dropping in. We can write a message on it.Help us, we had a one-night stand on a houseboat and ended up here!”

I get a laugh for that, and honestly, it’s better than a bath would be right now. Better than a hot piece of toast. Better than a pint of Coke.

“Or something shorter,” she says into my chest. “And less like a BuzzFeed article.”

“Right, yeah, we can edit it down, sure.”

She loops her arms around my waist, pressing in. Letting me take the weight of her body. I back up until I’m against one of the cream-paneled walls and we can both just lean there, her head on my chest.

“Do you think we could take a break from trying to cope with all this?” she says.

“You want to freak out for a while?”

“Yeah. This is just all completely fuckingawful.”

I stay quiet. I totally get that she needs to say that out loud right now, but I really don’t, and I trust she knows that, too. The wind whistles through the gaps in the edge of the windows, and I wonder if there’s anyone else I would prefer to have with me in this nightmare than the woman with the gorgeous eyes who saidI’m not but thankswhen I told her she was beautiful. It doesn’t even take a second to realize that no, there isn’t. Not Brady, not my brother, not Bear Grylls. I just want her.

“Do you think chocolate goes off?” she says eventually.

“Hmm?”

She pulls back to meet my gaze.

“Chocolate. Do you think it actually goes off? Or do they just put sell-by dates on chocolate bars for insurance reasons or something, and actually you can eat it forever?”

“Like cheese?”

She does one of those hemmed-in smiles. The kind she wears when she’s trying to act like she doesn’t want to laugh.

“Since you’re the person in charge of all our meals, I sincerely hope you’re joking right now.”

I smile. “Is there a reason you’re asking about sell-by dates?”

“I saw chocolate bars in an open bedroom drawer. Snickers and TimeOuts. They were obviously someone’s secret stash.”

“TimeOuts,” I say, salivating.

---