“Okay.”
He turned his attention to his food and let me stew. Ian was nice that way—always trying to give me what I wanted, even when what I wanted was unclear to either of us. His insistent attempts to distract me from the present anxiety excepted, of course. I knew I didn’t want that. I wanted to worry; it was the only thing I could do.
It had been a month since I’d moved back into Jamie and Jared’s room. For three weeks of that time, the four of us had lived together. Jared slept on a mattress wedged above the head of the bed where Jamie and I slept.
I’d gotten used to it—the sleeping part, at least; I was having a hard time sleeping now in the empty room. I missed the sound of two other bodies breathing.
I hadn’t gotten used to waking up every morning with Jared there. It still took me a second too long to return his morning greeting. He was not at ease, either, but he was always polite. We were both very polite.
It was almost scripted at this point.
“Good morning, Wanda, how did you sleep?”
“Fine, thank you, and you?”
“Fine, thanks. And… Mel?”
“She’s good, too, thanks.”
Jamie’s constant state of euphoria and his happy chattering kept things from becoming too strained. He talked about—and to—Melanie often, until her name was no longer the source of stress it had once been when Jared was present. Every day, it got a little bit more comfortable, the pattern of my life here a little bit more pleasant.
We were… sort of happy. Both Melanie and I.
And then, a week ago, Jared had left for another short raid—mostly to replace broken tools—and taken Jamie with him.
“You tired?” Ian asked.
I realized I was rubbing at my eyes. “Not really.”
“Still not sleeping well?”
“It’s too quiet.”
“I could sleep with you—Oh, calm down, Melanie. You know what I meant.”
Ian always noticed when Melanie’s antagonism made me cringe.
“I thought they were going to be back today,” I challenged.
“You’re right. I guess there’s no need for rearranging.”
I sighed.
“Maybe you should take the afternoon off.”
“Don’t be silly,” I told him. “I’ve got plenty of energy for work.”
He grinned as though I’d said something that pleased him. Something he’d been hoping I would say.
“Good. I could use some help with a project.”
“What’s the project?”
“I’ll show you—you finished there?”
I nodded.
He took my hand as he led me out of the kitchen. Again, this was so common that Melanie barely protested.
“Why are we going this way?” The eastern field did not need attention. We’d been part of the group that had irrigated it this morning.
Ian didn’t answer. He was still grinning.
He led me down the eastern tunnel, past the field and into the corridor that led to only one place. As soon as we were in the tunnel, I could hear voices echoing and a sporadic thud, thud that it took me a moment to place. The stale, bitter sulfur odor helped link the sound to the memory.
“Ian, I’m not in the mood.”
“You said you had plenty of energy.”
“To work. Not to play soccer.”
“But Lily and Wes will be really disappointed. I promised them a game of two-on-two. They worked so hard this morning to free up the afternoon…”
“Don’t try to make me feel guilty,” I said as we rounded the last curve. I could see the blue light of several lamps, shadows flitting in front of them.
“Isn’t it working?” he teased. “C’mon, Wanda. It will be good for you.”
He pulled me into the low-ceilinged game room, where Lily and Wes were passing the ball back and forth across the length of the field.
“Hey, Wanda. Hey, Ian,” Lily called to us.
“This one’s mine, O’Shea,” Wes warned him.
“You’re not going to let me lose to Wes, are you?” Ian murmured.
“You could beat them alone.”
“It would still be a forfeit. I’d never live it down.”
I sighed. “Fine. Fine. Be that way.”
Ian hugged me with what Melanie thought was unnecessary enthusiasm. “You’re my very favorite person in the known universe.”
“Thanks,” I muttered dryly.
“Ready to be humiliated, Wanda?” Wes taunted. “You may have taken the planet, but you’re losing this game.”
Ian laughed, but I didn’t respond. The joke made me uneasy. How could Wes make a joke about that? Humans were always surprising me.
Melanie included. She’d been in just as miserable a mood as I was, but now she was suddenly excited.
We didn’t get to play last time, she explained. I could feel her yearning to run—to run for pleasure rather than in fear. Running was something she used to love. Doing nothing won’t get them home any faster. A distraction might be nice. She was already thinking strategy, sizing up our opponents.
“Do you know the rules?” Lily asked me.