Page 39 of Into the Tempest

“I’ve lived in the tropics my whole life. We get crazy shit every wet season. Extremes are the norm here.”

“Well, by definition, that makes no sense. If those extremes are normal, then they’re no longer extremes but the norm—”

Yeah, okay, he was freaking out.

I took his arm and made him face me. “Stop. We need to pack a bag, then get you to work. You don’t wanna be late today. Hazer will be the least of your concerns with a pissed-off Doreen comin’ at you.” I peered into his eyes. “It’s okay to be stressed. It’s completely understandable to be concerned right now. Where’s that unfazed scientist who walked us into the crocodile infested mangroves?”

“There were no crocodiles when we walked in,” he mumbled. Then his eyes met mine. “I didn’t have you then. I didn’t have these feelings then. I mean, maybe I did, but this is different.”

I put my hand to his cheek. “We’ll be okay. And you did have me back then. You had me long before then.” I gave him a quick kiss, then looked around the room. “Is there anything you want to bring with you? Any personal items you don’t want to lose in case my house isn’t here tomorrow?”

He blinked a few times, and I could see him grappling with the urge to freak out again, but he managed to fight it. He fisted my shirt. “Just you.”

My smile was immediate and the thump of my heart almost painful against my ribs. “And you think you can’t say you love me.”

I was expecting him to smile or roll his eyes, but he didn’t. His hold on my shirt was now with white knuckles. He tried to talk—perhaps he was trying to tell me he loved me—but in the end just nodded.

I put my forehead to his. “I know,” I whispered. “I know.”

He swallowed hard and nodded before he let me go, and I ran my hand down his chest and ribs... until I felt something that shouldn’t have been there. “Are you... are you wearing a bra?”

His eyes went wide. “What? No, of course not.” He blushed and shook his head. “I’m not wearing a bra.”

I pulled up his shirt and he sighed, resigned. There, strapped around his chest was the heart-rate chest strap. I raised an eyebrow and my smile widened. “Clearly you’re not as unprepared as you think you are.”

He rolled his eyes. “We should get going. Or Doreen will take her bat to me.”

“If she does, at least the paramedics will know your ECG stats.”

He ignored that, took one last look around my room, at the photos on the wall, and I went to close the door, but Jeremiah stopped me.

“Wait,” he said. He went to the photos I’d taken and took one frame off the wall. It was the black and white photo of a younger me at the bunker. He held it to his chest. “Okay, now I’m good.”

I pulled the door closed with a smile.

He was quiet on the drive to his work. He was taking in all the boarded-up houses, all the sandbags. It was a comfort to know people were prepared, and I hoped he felt the same. “See? People are ready.”

He gave me a tight smile and a nod. “I hope so.”

I remembered the pictures of the islands north of us, how decimated they were, and how it was now coming for us. “I hope so too.”

We were a little late, getting to the bureau a fraction after six, but Doreen didn’t even seem to mind. She was more worried about what the radars showed and updating alerts now that daylight was breaking.

Though she did look at Jeremiah as he put the ready bag down, and how he stuffed the photo frame into the bag. “Clear skies up until around zero nine hundred,” she said. “Then we’ll start to see this band move in.” She pointed to the massive circular cloud mass heading straight toward us.

“Did you see the images out of Timor-Leste?” Jeremiah asked.

She nodded, her expression grim. “Yeah. I saw.” Then she whacked him on the arm, almost knocking him over. “Keep your chin up. There’s shit to get done today. I’ll be back around four. I’m guessin’ you’ll be keepin’ me company tonight.”

He nodded.

“Me too,” I said. “I’ll be here.”

“He won’t leave,” Jeremiah said. “Doreen, if you could perhaps talk some sense into him.”

She grinned at me and gave me a shoulder whack to match Jeremiah’s. “Good lad.”

Jeremiah sighed. “That’s the opposite of helpful, thank you.”

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