Fight the Tide (5 page)

Parker tried to pull the blankets up again. “Fine. I’m fine.”

Adam couldn’t see any signs of injury aside from the swelling wound on the side of Parker’s head and the reddened skin on his ass. There were no other cuts or any blood, but it didn’t mean they didn’t hurt him. He could smell one person in particular, someone who’d gotten close to Parker. Gotten on his skin.

He had to take a few deep breaths to calm himself before retrieving the first aid kit, a Tupperware container the pirates had fortunately missed during their ransacking, which seemed to have been focused on food. Dabbing the antiseptic on the wound on Parker’s temple, he tried to think of the best way to bandage it.

“Shower,” Parker murmured. “I need a shower.”

Adam was going to be sick, but he channeled the rage and guilt into action. He turned on the shower and stripped off his own clothes since he didn’t think Parker could stand by himself. Both of them barely fit in the shower stall, and Adam held Parker so he was under the stream of hot water.

“Mmm.” Lolling his head on Adam’s shoulder, Parker clung to him. “Feels good. I was so cold.”

They stood there until the hot water ran out, and Adam wrapped Parker in a terrycloth bathrobe Richard Foxe had kindly left behind. Back on the bed, he dressed the wound on Parker’s head, kneeling beside him as Parker stretched on his back. The shower seemed to wake him up a bit. He winced as Adam dabbed on a bit more antiseptic.

“Do you know what your name is?” Adam asked.

Parker rolled his eyes—a good sign. “Harry Potter, boy wizard. That makes you Professor Lupin.”

He pressed the bandage against the wound, glad to see it had stopped bleeding and didn’t need stitches. “I’m trying to make sure you don’t have a concussion.”

“Oh, right. My name’s Parker Osborne. Okay, let’s see. It’s November…eighth? Maybe ninth or tenth. I’m fine, Adam.”

“What’s your favorite movie?”

“
Shaun of the Dead.
The irony is not lost on me. And your favorite movie is
Almost Famous
for fiction,
Grey Gardens
for doc. The only thing I remember about the first one is the scene on the bus where they all sing that awesome old song, and I’ve never seen the second, much to your consternation.” His eyes flickered, and he licked his lips, his voice fading. “As I’ve told you, I’d happily watch it if Netflix was still part of our lives.”

Adam had to smile. “You’d love them both. They’re—”

“Classics,” Parker finished with him.

He caressed Parker’s stubbly cheek and pressed a kiss to his dry lips. “Come on, stay awake.” Awkwardly, he wound the bandage around Parker’s head.

Parker grumbled. “It’s not even bleeding anymore, is it?”

The bleeding had slowed, but it still trickled from the gash, and Adam wasn’t taking any chances. “Just a little.” He attempted an even tone. “What did they hit you with?”

After a few moments of silence, Parker sighed. “My gun. Took it too, probably. Hope they didn’t find the other one down here.”

“Who were they?” he asked quietly.

“Just people. Four of them—two men and two women. I was looking at the shore, and by the time I saw them coming in another boat, it was too late. They acted all friendly, but it was like this weird game we were playing. I knew they were going to fuck me up, and so did they.” He shivered and fiddled with the bandage.

“Did they hurt you? Aside from this?” Adam motioned to Parker’s head. Both their hearts pounded, and Adam hated himself so much for being gone too long.

“I’m tired.”

“Parker…” Adam swallowed hard. “Did they do anything else? You can tell me.” He thought of the faceless intruders, tearing into their throats while they screamed. Ripping their limbs off and sinking his claws into their guts.

Parker met his gaze. “They made me strip after I tried to get the gun. Hit me in the head. They threatened to…you know. But they didn’t do it. The leader slapped my butt a few times. That’s it.”

Adam exhaled shakily, still longing to taste their blood. He cupped Parker’s face. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I was gone that long.”

“Where were you?” Parker sounded so much like a little boy in that moment. Adam wanted to cry and scream.

“I was helping a couple. Their car broke down.” He thought of the boy and girl, still teenagers, and the smoking engine of their Ford Focus. He’d helped
them
while Parker needed him. He’d been leaning under the hood of their car with a wrench while Parker had been naked and alone.

“I’m so sorry,” he repeated. “I should have been here.”

“You didn’t know. It’s not your fault.” Parker licked his dry lips. Adam grabbed a hard plastic cup from where it had rolled on the floor with other scattered kitchen utensils. He filled it with rainwater at the sink and helped Parker drink before dashing up on deck to scan the area.

It rained steadily, and the boat bobbed in the waves, but it didn’t seem like a storm would hit. Eyes narrowed, he turned in a slow circle. The creepers on the shore in the far distance had gone or drowned. Closing his eyes, he listened. They were alone.

Back downstairs, he struggled with the lid of an Advil bottle he’d picked up in an abandoned corner store, forcing himself to be patient and push down the child-proof cap. “Here.” On the bed again, he held up Parker’s head and helped him swallow the pills.

Settling back on the pillows, Parker said, “Thanks.” He closed his eyes and attempted a smile. “Did you get more food and stuff? I think we’re out.”

“I found your favorite cookies. Are you hungry?”

His eyes flickered open. “Maybe later.” He frowned. “Don’t look like that. I’m fine.”

Adam swallowed thickly before he could speak. “You were right. There are bad people out there. I shouldn’t have left you.”

“Creepers are bad too. Rock and a hard place. I know you would never want me to get hurt. You can’t be here all the time. We need supplies. But we need to be careful. People suck.”

Adam nodded, but… Did it have to be that way? There had to be good people left. Was it more dangerous on their own? If Salvation Island was real, maybe…

He couldn’t stop the bloom of hope, fragile and small.

“Hope for the best, expect the worst, and turn the stereo up to eleven.”

As Tina’s voice echoed in his mind, love and grief washed through him. She’d regularly texted him mish-mashed inspirational quotes that often featured an element from
Spinal Tap.

That she was dead, he had little doubt. Maybe he was wrong and she’d somehow survived the bloodbath downtown in San Francisco, but it seemed impossible.

It was equally impossible that it had only been months ago they’d gone to their weekly movie, sitting in the back corner in almost-empty theaters and whispering commentary. She’d been the only person he’d ever told about being a wolf until Parker.

He’d filmed countless hours of footage of her answering his questions with good humor, talking about her family and friends and the people she felt closest to, her short dark curls framing a round face.

“What about you? You hide behind your camera and never talk about your family or your life. Your documentary’s about ‘found families,’ but you don’t really have any friends except yours truly. Sex hook-ups don’t count. How are you supposed to connect with people if you’re always looking through a lens?” She grinned straight into the camera, cheeks dimpled and eyes sparkling. “Hey, that was pretty deep, huh? That’ll be an A-plus soundbite. You’re welcome.”

It was all lost now, all the video. His documentary. If by some miracle his apartment hadn’t burned, the digital files on his hard drive were still there, useless to looters. Of course they might as well be on the moon. He’d never return to California, not unless things changed hugely. The only way was forward.

And with his videos gone, as time passed, the tinkling echo of Tina’s voice would fade, her dimples disappearing with the other little details that made her
her,
like a photograph bleached by sunlight. Like with his family, there would be little snatches of detail and memory, but overall it would blur into an ache of affection and emptiness.

His hands flexed on Parker’s arms, wanting to haul him close but stilling himself, mindful of his injuries.

“Can I take a nap?” Parker asked. “Weather doesn’t look too bad?”

“We’re good. Sleep. But I’m waking you up soon in case you have a concussion.”

“Cool.” He reached for Adam’s hand with cold fingers. “I’m okay. Just glad you’re back. Was worried.” His eyes drifted shut.

What if these people had hurt Parker worse? Put a bullet in his head? What if Adam had returned to silence, no heartbeat or sweet laughter, only a body growing cold, flies swarming?

What if it
is
safe on that island? What if Parker could be safe?

Not able to utter a sound without howling, Adam leaned over and pressed a kiss to Parker’s damp hair.

*

Feet braced on
the deck, Adam scanned the empty horizon. The sun was sinking, the sky clear for the moment but for a thin line of clouds. Orange tinged with pink streaked across, and it was a gorgeous shot, the light a perfect warmth. He slipped the camera from his pocket. It was pointless, filming all these little clips, but as he panned across, a few degrees of the tension in his neck eased.

The chill remained, clinging damply. As Parker’s breathing hitched downstairs, Adam froze, waiting until it smoothed out again. He’d tuned his ears to monitor Parker like a radio station.

It’d been a day, and Parker was still in pain. Adam wanted to get his claws into the people who did this, but they were apparently long gone. He wondered if they’d been waiting, watching him go to shore. Watching him leave Parker alone. He thought he’d scanned the area thoroughly before he left, but maybe…

Or maybe they just came along and saw an opportunity, and the only thing Adam could have done differently was not leave Parker behind. He’d been thinking about the threat from creepers; about the fear that seized him every time one of them came too close to Parker, missing him by inches with their greedy hands and manic teeth.

The boat rolled on a wave. They were anchored in the same spot, bobbing around. Adam could probably unfurl the sails and guide them farther south, but would rather wait for Parker to take his usual place at the wheel, monitoring the wind and narrating his actions with a bunch of sailing jargon.

He did another scan, part of him relieved when it came up empty, the other half longing for some sign of life. A memory flickered through his mind.

“We have each other. We don’t need anyone else.” Adam’s mother spoke firmly, but Maddie only huffed.

“But
why
? Where are the other wolves? Why don’t you and dad know any of them? Shouldn’t we have cousins or something?”

Adam watched from the kitchen door as his older sisters dug in their heels. He wished they’d just leave it alone already and stop arguing and making everything tense. What was the big stupid deal? But Christine sat at the breakfast table, nodding vigorously as Maddie squared off with Mom.

“Because it’s dangerous,” Mom said. “We’re better off on our own.”

Christine gritted her teeth. “You still haven’t said why.”

Mom slammed down a carton of milk, splashing it over the counter. “Because we said so. Eat your breakfast.”

Heart thumping, Adam took his seat, spilling Rice Krispies onto the table as he poured them into his bowl. A few skittered to the floor, and he bent to snatch them up in the heavy silence. When he straightened, Mom ran a hand over his hair and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“Do you need any money for the museum trip, hon?”

He shook his head, but his sisters still rolled their eyes. When Mom turned to the fridge, Maddie mouthed, “Sucky baby.”

Now he’d give anything to know the answer as to why his parents had isolated them from other wolves. He knew they must have had a good reason, but if he’d had someone after they died, someone who understood…

The boat rocked with another set of waves. It didn’t matter now anyway. He had Parker, and Parker was everything.

“
Join us as we build a new home.”

The voice from Salvation Island echoed in him, deep and persistent. It truly was like a siren’s song, drawing him in despite his own skepticism and Parker’s dogged resistance. And look at what had happened, what other people had done. Still, the thought of a
home
tugged.

Parker’s heart rate increased, and Adam got downstairs as he woke with a gasp. “Hey, hey.” Adam crawled on the bed and reached out, his hand hovering uncertainly. “It’s okay.”

Blinking, Parker pushed himself up to sitting. “Had a stupid dream.” Scratching at this chest, he wore only his boxers. The bandage around his head had come precariously loose.

Adam sat there with his hands gripped together in his lap, not knowing what to do. “Everything’s okay.”

“Yeah. I’m fine.” He grimaced. “Sleeping too much. I feel gross.”

“Headache? Do you want more Advil?”

“I guess.” Parker pulled off the bandage and tilted his head. “How’s it look?”