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In many ways, when they talked, it felt as if no time had passed, and they were the same two dudes drinking cervezas and eating fish tacos by the beach in Mexico. But, at times like these, the years they'd spent apart yawned open like an uncrossable canyon.
Hunter swung his wary gaze to Jake. "Do you?"
"Kind of hard not to." Jake gave a quick shrug. "Most days, I feel like I landed on an alien planet. Like, I'm wandering around trying to find my way back."
"Yeah, I get that." Hunter nudged a rock with the tip of his boot. "I never asked, how long did you stay in Mexico after I left?"
When TheEnd happened, the two of them had been vacationing in Cancun. After college, it had become a yearly tradition they'd adopted — sometimes the two of them, sometimes other friends would tag along — but that ended when the first bomb fell. Hunter, worried for his family, left immediately to find what was left of them in the rubble of Seattle.
But Jake had decided to stay. He figured if the world was ending, he didn't need to worry about his stupid sales job anymore and would coast on his savings until things calmed down. Except, they never did. Hunter, grim with foreboding about the state of things up north, promised to return to meet up with Jake in Mexico if he couldn't find his family. Except, he never did, either.
"A couple years." Hunter's face fell so completely that Jake rushed to provide reassurance. "I wasn't waiting for you, dude. I knew shit was falling apart, and I didn't see the point of trying to go get involved while it sorted itself out. Honestly, I figured you were dead."
Hunter grunted. "Reasonable assumption in those days."
Jake kicked out a foot and crossed it at his ankle. Surprising, really, how unemotional he felt talking about his history. At least this part of it. "It took a while, but eventually, things got bad down south. Hurricanes, dead fish on the beaches, food shortages, crop failures, disease, the same shit as everywhere else. But by then, I'd changed into this, y'know?" He swept a careless hand over his stronger, taller frame.
No need to spell it all out; Hunt had gone through the same thing. Strange, though, he'd never talked to anyone about that surrealist experience. What could you say about going through a growth spurt and becoming a hulked-out version of yourself at the ripe old age of thirty-two? Not much besides, "Wasn't that fucking weird?"
"Once stuff got bad there, I figured I might as well face whatever was going on back in the States. Or what was left of 'em, I suppose." Jake met Hunt's eye's again, remembering something he hadn't thought of in decades. "Did you ever find your sister?"
Hunter shook his head. "Looked for a long time, but no. No trace of her or my brother." He let out a long, resigned sigh. "I'm sorry I never came back, man. I never forgot about you, I just... I let you down."
Jake absorbed the heartfeltmea culpawith rising dismay. "No, dude. Never think that. None of this is your fault."
It wasn't lip service or sucking up. He'd had long years to think things over and truly harbored no resentment. Not even for the no Omegas promise Hunter extracted on pain of death. Hunter did what he felt he had to do, for the safety of his woman and his Pack. Jake couldn't blame him for that.
"Right." Shaking off the heart-to-heart, Hunter frowned thoughtfully. "You want something to do. Well, the security situation needs to be dealt with. We were too cocky before, too unprepared, and we got hit bad. All these people — Omegas, kids, families — we gotta protect 'em better."
"What're you thinking?"
"Cal suggested we build some watch towers, maybe one in each direction, to monitor from higher up. Set up rotations, spot threats before they get to us." Hunter shoved his hands deep in his pockets. "If we have Xavi draw up the plans, can you follow them? I know construction isn't exactly your forte."
Discomforting memories rumbled, quelling his initial excitement about the project and breaking him out in a cold sweat despite the warm day. Right. Building a watchtower would involve actual building. Since being in Morris Hill, he'd shied away from any and all construction duties. His reasons for that had nothing to do with ignorance and everything to do with his past. A past that Hunter remained unaware of, and another thing Jake saw no reason to enlighten him about. Hunt was throwing him a bone here, and he was going to take it.
"I can do it," Jake said quickly. "Where?"
"East. Just past the lake, there's a small rise that looks like it survived a forest fire at some point. It won't take too much to get above the canopy line." He frowned. "That may present a challenge in some other directions, but I'm inclined to start with what's easy and see how it goes. A tower there would give us a view from the village and all the way to the eastern edge of our territory. How does that sound?"
Jake pulled himself upright, a sudden hopefulness buoying his spirit for the first time in a very long time. He could get away from the village, away from the harassment, keep his promise to Hunt, contribute to the village, but most importantly, stay away fromher. Win-win-win.
"Sounds perfect." Jake rubbed his sweaty palms on his pants. "When can I start?"
CHAPTER 4
Zorah
Zorah scooped a palmful of water and dribbled it onto her face and neck. Sitting in the shallow end of the lake with water sloshing around her legs and thighs, she was almost cool enough to relax.
"Hey, come back." She motioned to Pixie, who had waded knee-deep to float a small wooden boat. "You have to stay close to me or we can't be by the water."
"But I want it to go all the way up to here," Pixie whined, motioning to her neck with her little four-year-old face scrunched up in a foreboding scowl.
For over a week now, the summer sun blasted the village with everything it had. Doomed to days of insufferable heat, humidity, and nights of stilted air, they had little reprieve. None of the children could comfortably nap in their stuffy cabin, and as a result, everyone who lived in Grace and Lars's abode was over-tired, sweaty, and cranky. Zorah included.
Tendrils of hair clung disgustingly to her sticky skin as she mopped sweat from her forehead. "Absolutely not. We have to be safe, and that means staying by the shore. Now come play next to me or lake time is over."
Pixie pulled a face but clutched the toy in her hand and sloshed her way back, kicking up as much water as her little feet could. Zorah blinked away the droplets that landed in her eyes and smoothed Jace's hair back from his forehead. The two-year-old slumped against her side, gnawing on a half-eaten peach that he periodically dropped into the lake water and then picked up and continued eating, sand notwithstanding. She glanced over her right shoulder to the tree line, where a mostly naked Ginny snoozed on an improvised bed in the shade, her thumb in her mouth and her other hand gripping a rough-hewn wooden block. A dozen similar wooden shapes of squares, rectangles, and triangles scattered around Ginny's sprawled limbs. On the other side of the blanket sat a small hammer peg toy, complete with a child-sized wooden mallet to pound the pegs through the holes.
