Page 23 of The Midnight Hour
Another look of total disbelief. “Iwas.”
“Was there some kind of school, in this bunker?” I press, doing my best to sound friendly and interested, rather than as if I’m grilling him for information.
He shrugs. “Sort of, on computers. They’d downloaded all these classes, but they were all really boring.”
Mattie lets out a soft huff. Her school was learning how to shoot, skin a rabbit, and generally be a badass. I’m pretty sure she’s looking at this pretty boy and thinking how she could take him down in about two seconds.
“Wow,” I say, for lack of any other suitable response. I thought awkward chitchat was a relic of a pre-Armageddon age, but apparently not.
Over the next few hours, we find an uneasy rhythm. The Strattons take one of our tents, at Daniel’s suggestion, seeming to see it as something of their due, and bring several leather Louis Vuitton suitcases out of their car. We leave them to settle in as we go about our usual jobs—Kyle fishes; Daniel and Sam check the snares; Ruby and I gather plants, and Mattie minds the campsite with Phoebe.
We’ve all fallen into these patterns without even realizing it, and they work. How are the Strattons going to upset it all? Upsetus? Already I feel uncomfortably aware of William’s authoritative presence, not quite arrogance, but almost; his wife’s tense quietness that is somehow more oppressive than if she talked all the time. As for Ben…he’s another child I feel responsible for, even if technically I’m not. I doubt either William or Nicole Stratton can provide for their son out here in the woods. I’m resentful that Daniel offered to let this family stay, even as I accept he didn’t have much choice, and it was, of course, the good and right thing to do.
It isn’t until later that I learn my husband’s ulterior motive.
We are lying in our tent—Ruby is sharing with Mattie and Phoebe, and Sam is sleeping in the back of the truck, along with Kyle—our legs tangled together, our faces pressed close, almost as if we are trying to fuse our bodies, but there’s nothing romantic about it. We simply don’t want to be overheard.
“I think they’re hiding something,” Daniel whispers, barely a breath of sound. “And I want to know what it is.”
“Why did they come to Kawartha?” I ask, an agreement. Now that Daniel has said it out loud, I’m almost positive the Strattons are hiding something…but what? “They can’t have just been driving,” I continue. “With no destination in mind.”
He nods slowly, his lips brushing my hair. “I think it was a coincidence that they ended up at our campsite,” he concedes ina soft huff of breath. “An open meadow close to the road…we probably should have been more careful than that. But…I think they’re going somewhere. I think theydohave a destination in mind, and they just don’t want to tell us.”
I thread my fingers through his, draw his hand to my heart. I think of what William Stratton said about the radiation, and I want to ask Daniel about it, but I don’t. I know he’ll lie to me, and I’m not ready for that—or the truth. “Another bunker?” I whisper instead, so quietly I’m not sure even Daniel hears me.
He nods again, his lips brushing my ear as he leans close to whisper, “I think so. And we need to make sure we go with them.”
TEN
I wake up early the next morning, while the sky is still clinging to the vestiges of darkness and mist hovers over the ground. I slip out of the tent to stoke up the fire—and make sure the Strattons haven’t stolen away in the night. But they haven’t; their car is still there, parked under the trees so it’s hidden from the road. I can hear William snoring from their tent. I turn toward the fire, and then have to check myself when I see Nicole is already there, a blank expression on her face as she sits by the flames, her knees drawn up to her chest, her manicured fingers laced together over them.
“Hey.” I speak quietly, to keep from waking anyone else. I don’t think it can be much past five in the morning. “You’re up early.”
She shrugs in response without looking at me, her zip-up hoodie sliding off one bony shoulder. I decide to go about my business. I head down to the stream to fetch water and put it on top of the stove to boil. The other day Ruby and I roasted and ground cleavers for coffee, or at least the approximation of it, and so I set them to boil while Nicole simply sits, looking blank. I have no idea what to say to her, and so I say nothing,focusing on the job at hand, while she looks remote and beautiful and brittle, in an oversized white cashmere hoodie and steel-gray yoga pants, like a time traveler from another universe.
After five minutes or so, I present her with my poor offering—a cup of brownish, boiled water that vaguely resembles coffee flavor, with no milk or sugar, of course.
She wraps her slender hands around the tin mug, her expression veiled as she remarks without expression, “Yesterday I had a Nespresso.”
I have no idea what to make of that, and, while I’m still trying to frame a response, she lets out a dark, bitter laugh, and then drains her cup.
Oh… kay.
“So…did you leave the bunker yesterday?” I ask cautiously as I sit a few feet away from her, cradling my own cup. “And drive right here?”
She nods, not looking at me. “Something like that.”
Another silence descends, as oppressive as ever. I don’t want to pump her for information…and yet I sort of do. I need to find out where they’re going, because I’m convinced, like Daniel, that they have a destination in mind, and it’s somewhere we need to know about.
“So why Kawartha?” I ask mildly as I take a sip of coffee. “I mean…it’s got to be, what? Two hundred miles from Watertown?”
Nicole looks away, her long blond hair falling out of her ponytail to cover her face. She has to be about my age, I think, and her hair is a perfect platinum. Did they have hair dye in that luxury bunker, along with everything else? Maybe even a hair salon and stylist. “Like William said, we just headed north.”
“And west,” I add mildly. “I mean, it’s not exactly a straight shot, is it?”
Nicole whips her head around, her eyes turning ice-blue as she glares at me. “Why are you asking so many questions?”
“Because I’m curious,” I fire back, “and I think you’re going somewhere. Somewhere specific.”
