Paired Pursuit (19 page)

After making sure she was braced, he entered her, slamming home with a harsh exclamation. “God, yeah. You feel so good. Hold on, honey.”

The ledge was slippery, but she obeyed, gasping as he found a rhythm that suited them both. She was already on the edge, and when his hand slipped around to caress her clit, she went over again, her cries rising above the rush of water, over Finn's own gasps of pleasure.

Afterward, he held her, his arms and legs forming a kind of human cage around her body. She reveled in the feeling of being completely contained, totally safe—at least for now. Only when the water raining upon them became cool did they bother to move.

“You think Gareth's less angry now?” she murmured against his neck.

Finn's chest shook as he chuckled. “Yeah, although I suspect he'll try to get revenge for this at some point. You still think you can handle both of us?”

She raised her chin to meet his eyes. “If we get out of here in one piece.”

“We'll do our very best.”

Finn helped her dress afterward, a necessity since her fingers were too fumbling to do anything complicated. They lay on her bed, spooning, waning sunlight bathing them both in gold. Were it not for the deadline that loomed, Mari would have been content to soak in the moment, luxuriating in postcoital bliss.

Yet whenever she opened her eyes, she saw the wide-open, unboarded window. The room was completely austere now. Save for the faded bedspread, Patrice had bundled everything into a locked storage unit in the living room. Although there was only a miniscule chance she'd ever be able to return for the items, the elderly woman didn't want the aliens or other looters to have access to her belongings.

Finn's commtab buzzed, and he sat up to take the call. “Finn 01223. Hey, Lee. No kidding? Thanks for doing that—and letting me know. Yep, see you in a few hours.”

Mari rolled over, searching his face for any sign of bad news. Her unspoken concern must have been evident, for he reassured her with a smile. “It's okay. Lee and a few of the boys are aboard the evac plane. He wanted to let me know.”

“Has this caused any friction with the higher-ups?” There was worry as well as relief in his face, and Mari hated seeing his eyes so shadowed. He'd seemed so upbeat when she had first met him, almost boyishly pleased with the world. Now it was if the world was a weight on his shoulders.

“It better not. Lee says there're rumors Dr. Felton was working for the Shadow Feds all along, trying to get the current government to commit a massive screw-up. Seems like he might have achieved that goal if this device was able to wake up the dormant breeders.”

“You won't take the blame, though. Right?”

“Gareth wouldn't hear of it, sweetheart. Besides, everything on this commtab is logged, so if anyone screams for a court-martial, we'll be exonerated.”

Mari sat up, finger-combing her hair in an excess of agitated energy. “All right. I hate seeing you so worried, though.”

He tugged her down atop him. “I'm mostly worried about you.”

“Me?” She squirmed into a more comfortable position, aware that she was shamelessly straddling him.

“Yeah, you. Gareth said you were struggling a bit with the idea of evacuation.”

Struggling a bit.
Now there was a way to rephrase
panic attack
. Mari looked away, out at the late afternoon sun. “It's difficult to come to terms with the fact that the City has breached walls,” she said finally. “I've been refusing to think otherwise. It saves my sanity. Once darkness falls, I think I'll be on shakier emotional ground.”

“Will you cope if we leave the house and head down to the airfield?”

“I'll have to. But I reserve the right to fall completely apart afterward.”

“And I'll be right there to put you back together. Although I think Gareth will claim you first. He's not best pleased about missing out earlier.”

Mari bit her lip. “He's not mad, is he?”

“Nah. Just sporting wood while he works.”

She blushed, then gasped as she felt Finn's own erection against her leg. “How could you possibly…?”

“Can't help it,” was his lazy response. He put his arms behind his head and grinned at her. “Not my fault if the scientists created us to strongly react to some women.”

“So it's not me, it's my pheromones.” She openly laughed at his sudden worried look. “Just so long as you don't run around chasing all the women with the right chemical makeup.”

“Definitely not. Given the amount of time it took to find you, I doubt we'll ever meet another eligible woman anyhow.” He moved underneath her, flipping her onto the bed with a grin. “Time to get up.”

Time to put on a brave face, pretend she was okay walking out the front door. Time to pretend they were only going on a walk, a tour of the airfield. Mari concentrated on breathing, carrying her backpack as she followed Finn out the door. Patrice juggled her bag and Tank's leash, turning around as she closed the door behind her. Her dark brown eyes were suspiciously bright.

“Well, I'll remember this house,” she said after a long moment. “Come on. No use in me mooning any further. How many people can fit on this plane anyway?”

“A hundred or thereabouts.” Finn hefted a suitcase, leading the way down the deserted road.

“Enough to fit some of the people at the train station?” Mari asked.

“Yep. Gareth's liaising with the guard, trying to do this in a way that doesn't involve people scrambling over each other. He's handpicking people who are willing to fight, since the plane's going to be landing at twilight.”

Mari swallowed and nodded. Twilight. They could make it. The aliens would start to emerge as soon as the sun went down, but they wouldn't necessarily be able to reach the City right away. That would give them…what, twenty minutes? Fewer? To give her mind something to chew on, she racked her brain, digesting the numbers en route to the airfield.

Or what
passed
as an airfield. She blinked at the overgrown runway, wondering what kind of pilot would risk landing on it at twilight. Her chest tightened, heart rate rising. Then she saw what Gareth was doing. Before the encroaching panic attack could fully take hold, she ran to help him, setting her backpack down where the grass met concrete.

Gareth greeted her with an almost predatory smile. “Hey, baby. Heard you and Finn had some fun.”

“A little.” She lifted an oilcan and followed him down the runway. In the absence of actual runway lights, a long corridor of fire would have to do.

“Only a little?”

“It was nice.” She blushed, unused to discussing sex after the fact. “It was quick and…distracting.”

He plunked his can down on the concrete and grinned over his shoulder. “Distracting is a good word for it.”

“Do you really feel everything your brother does?”

“Yeah. Not as strongly as he feels it, of course, but it's a bit like having a ghost limb. The pain isn't real, but it registers as real enough. Same for pleasure—I wasn't exactly making a mess in my jeans, but it was close.”

No wonder they preferred to share a woman. Mari trundled her oilcan a little farther along before setting it down at Gareth's direction. Then they walked back to fetch more cans. He kept shooting her looks, but said nothing as they worked.

“What is it?” she finally asked.

“Does it make you uncomfortable?”

“What, that you feel everything Finn does?”

“Yes. The…sex part of that. Some women say we're voyeuristic.”

Mari blinked. “But you can't help it. You're wired that way, always connected to Finn. It affects you more than me, anyway, but anyone calling you a voyeur is wrong.”

His oilcan crunched in the gravel at the end of the runway. For a moment, he was quiet, and Mari turned to look anxiously up at him as he studied the skies. Had she been too direct? For that matter, was she handling this relationship—relationships, she amended—in a correct manner? She'd only ever had Tim Johnston on her radar, and
he'd
never sparked anything. Certainly not the storm the Twins provoked within her.

She was on the cusp of asking whether everything was all right when Gareth turned to her, his green eyes holding a tender look that she rarely saw in him. “Thanks, Mari. I guess that voyeur comment has been eating away at me for a few years. Come on, let's go sit down. We've done everything we can for now.”

A few minutes later, seated between the Twins, Mari felt cozy, comfortable and protected. They were calm, if alert. She couldn't help testing herself for any vestiges of panic, but her heart rate was only a little bit elevated, and she was feeling downright levelheaded. Patrice and Tank perched on an old battered bench nearby, the former making occasional acerbic comments about the state of the City. Mari listened, occasionally cracking a smile at a particularly witty comment.

At the other end of the airfield, a small group of people occupied the former air control tower. Gareth saw where she was looking and draped a companionable arm around her shoulders. “Those refugees are from the train station. I dropped them a quiet word and they chose to come here since they were last in line. The soldier managing the platform said there was a chance they wouldn't be able to fit on the last train.”

Finn frowned. “Yeah, thought I told you to get single, able-bodied men. There's a woman in there with a baby.”

“Then she'll have to board first,” Gareth said. “I'm not turning anyone away.”

“Even her?” Patrice nodded toward a woman sidling through the broken airfield gates.

Finn shook his head as the woman drew closer. “Junkie.”

“Hey.” Gareth's sharp tone surprised them all. “She might have had an addiction in the past, judging from the state of her face and body, but that woman was right there helping out last night. Couldn't say the same for some of the soldiers. So if she wants a place on the plane, she can have one.”

“Fair enough,” Patrice said. She got to her feet, waving her cane at the woman until she changed direction and hesitantly approached them. She clearly recognized Gareth, dipping her head in a quick nod.

“You're welcome here,” Gareth told her. “I won't forget the way you lit that fire and called out that countdown to dawn.”

“I hope it helped,” the woman said. Her face was blotched around the mouth, a clear sign of addiction to Turquoise, although upon further scrutiny, Mari noticed the marks were older and scabbed over. “I couldn't sit and do nothin'. You really mean that about me being welcome?”

“Yeah. Plane's due at twilight, so as long as you hop on quick, you're good,” Gareth said.

“Thanks. I really appreciate that. The train guard said there was no more room for anyone on the last one. He told me to check here.”

“How many people are stranded?” Finn got to his feet, brushing off his jeans.

“Only a handful, and I came here with them. Then, of course, there's those that are staying in the City. They've holed up in the basement of one of the big buildings, boarded it right up and taken their drugs and bags inside with 'em. I don't think you got a shot at convincing them to come out.”

“Are there any children in there?” Mari asked.

“No, purely adults. They're responsible in their irresponsibility.” The woman shrugged. “Some other folks went to the gates, driving their own cars. A handful went with the guard in that armored truck of his, but I could tell he didn't want me in there, so I came here.”

“We're heading to Antarctica, you know,” Finn deadpanned.

“Pull the other one. Aren't there sleeping aliens there?”

“That's the theory, although they might not be sleeping any longer.” Gareth tucked a hand into his pocket as he stood. “What's your name, anyway?”

“I'm Kendal. I've been…in a bad place for the past six months, and I reckon that's evident. So I'd like to thank you for letting me evac with you.”

“Don't thank us yet,” Gareth said, nodding at the sky. Everyone's gaze went toward the horizon, where the sun was large and golden—and rapidly descending into twilight. All conversation evaporated as the Twins began to light the oil in the cans. That drew the knot of people at the far end of the airfield over to them, and soon Mari stood in the middle of about forty nervous people, of which two were babies. They were quiet too.

The fact that she was sandwiched between the Twins went a long way to reassure her. Nobody spoke for long minutes, but Mari noticed that several people held weapons and were surreptitiously fanning out, ready to defend themselves to the last.

The sound of the cargo plane was a distant rumble, nearly eclipsed by the first howls of the aliens. The unearthly, ghoulish cries made her shiver, and Tank let out a hoarse growl. Gareth shifted, brushing against Mari's arm as he peered upward.

“Gonna be five minutes before they land,” he said. “There might be incoming around that time, depends on how fast the fuckers can clear the gap.”

Mari looked at the horizon. The last glint of gold disappeared even as she watched, leaving the sky a mottled dark blue with a rapidly-dissipating line of pink. Her breath came quicker—she was both terrified and ready to fight. But not, she realized, in the throes of a panic attack. Her head was clear, even if her heart raced.

The cargo plane cleared the wall, coming in low and fast. There was a chorus of muttered curses when it aborted the landing and roared past for a go-around. As it executed a sharp turn, its lights illuminated the pale forms of Barks running through the City.

“Bastards must have holed up nearby to get here so quickly,” someone muttered.

“Or they're developing a resistance to UV light,” Kendal quipped. “Which is just what the world needs.”

The plane's engines roared, drowning out further conversation. Mari was suddenly propelled forward as the Twins half dragged, half carried her along, running toward the end of the runway where the cargo plane ground to a halt. Its rear compartment opened, and a complement of soldiers jumped out, all wielding lasers and bright, UV headlamps.