Night Beyond The Night (29 page)

Her answer was to yank his face down for a kiss, taking his mouth as if she were as starved as he, and she ground her hips against his even as she tore at the snap and zipper. She pressed against the screaming erection where every bit of his blood had gathered, full and raging, demanding, and the next thing he knew, he was there and free, she was there, hot and slick and ready and he didn’t even have a moment to think about protection before she slipped him in . . . oh, God, oh God. . . .

He managed not to go over right then, but it was close. Jade moved, she tipped and twisted and teased,
oh, damn
, and made a soft little sound that nearly did it right then, her nails digging into his shoulders. He closed his eyes, fingers probably too tight into her arms, and fought for the rhythm . . . any rhythm . . . and then she moved against him again, hard and quick and fast, slamming up and into him, and then crying out in an unmistakable release.

That, it seemed, was what he needed to regain control. That delicious sound, low and throaty and . . . surprised.

The wildness slipped away, the desperation eased and he found himself where he needed to be: sinking into Jade, gathering her close as her eyes fluttered open, then closed as he moved with much more finesse than he’d yet shown. Long, steady, slow. . . . easy, easy . . . make it right. . . .

He even had the moment to dip and use his lips and tongue on one of her nipples, teasing and coaxing . . . something he’d neglected earlier in the frenzy. She arched and shivered beneath that new onslaught, and he sucked harder and moved faster, sliding a hand beneath her rear and the rough carpet, lifting her, holding her in the rhythm . . . oh . . . yes . . . there it was, rising, blinding him once again, coiling up hot and hard and sharp until he saw it, felt it, burst over . . . shooting into a long, low slide of heat that curled his toes, devastating him.

In the most satisfying way.

They lay, skin to skin, sticky and damp and warm, for a moment before he had the strength to open his eyes. The water-stained ceiling stared down at him, the walnut arm of the chair loomed above, and to the right of his shoulder, Jade, warm and real, next to him.

A variety of realizations slammed into him as he came back to himself, the first of which was that he’d had unprotected sex. While a body was in the next room.
Christ
.

He shuddered a long breath, easing from Jade and her glorious self. The rough carpet scraped his arm as he shifted up and next to her. She was looking up at him, her face serious, her eyes half shadowed so that he couldn’t tell if there was regret or horror at what they’d done . . . or pity.

He didn’t really want to know which it was.

“I’m sorry I called you insane,” she said. “You’re not insane. And that was. . . .” Her eyes fluttered and she bit her lower lip. “Elliott, that was oh-my-God wonderful. That . . . just now . . . was . . . unbelievable.” She looked at him bashfully, clearly unused to being so bold—at least in matters such as this—and his whole world softened into mush.

Before he could respond—which, based on the way he was feeling, would likely have resulted in a repeat of the whole event—there was a loud banging on the door. She scrambled up and away faster than he thought possible, her eyes wide and startled, breasts jouncing delightfully, and for a moment he thought he was offended. But then he thrust the thought away and stood himself, realizing once again that a body was in the bathtub, they’d just had sex—unprotected—on the floor, and he didn’t know who was at the door. He dragged on his jeans and, after a glance at Jade, who was half-decent, went to open it.

It was the fucking mayor of Envy.

Seven months After

They came today. In a large black humvee.

The sound of the truck was eerie and unfamiliar after so many months of relative silence, of no cars, no highways or airplanes or trains. At first, we thought help from the outside world had finally arrived.

Then two men came out of the humvee. They looked like us, even talked like us. But I could tell right away there was something strange about them. They asked for nothing, took nothing . . . yet they didn’t stay. Did little more than look around and talk with some of us for a while about how we’d survived, and how we were living. Their eyes seemed to miss nothing.

They gave what amounted to gifts to those they spoke with: beer, soda pop, chocolate, even some fresh strawberries.

And then the strangers got back in their humvee and drove off.

The
jiang shis
, or—as people are starting to refer to them because everything has to be shortened even in this world—the
jangas
, can be heard most nights. Moaning and calling for Ruth, whoever that is.

Have learned that they’re not very smart, but still frightening. Don’t go out at night.

Election for mayor is next week. I pray that Greg Rowe wins. If Thad Marck does, I fear what will happen. He is very rigid and controlling. Reminds me of Dimmesdale from
The Scarlet Letter
. (I hated that book.)

Theo has offered to rig the computer counting the ballots so that Rowe’s a shoe-in. Am almost tempted to let him, but will resist.

It is not for me—or any one man—to make such a decision. That’s why we’ve returned to our democratic roots, even though some of us here are not Americans.

I leave it to the Higher Power, even though many blame God for what has happened to us, calling this Judgment Day. I’ve pointed out that if this were the Apocalypse, we’d
all
be dead. It would be the end of the world. As it is, we’re still alive.

There must be a reason for it.

Best part of the day: Elsie let me kiss her. She smiled afterward and I thought I might die.

—from the journal of Lou Waxnicki

When Elliott opened the door, Vaughn Rogan was the last person he expected to see there.

Rogan extended his hand immediately to Elliott. “I understand I have you to thank for my miraculous recovery,” he said. They shook hands, and he noted that Rogan had a solid, sure grip. He looked him in the eye, was completely sincere and maybe even a little overwhelmed by the emotion of the moment. After all, he had practically been brought back from the dead. Elliott couldn’t find a reason to dislike the man whatsoever, though he was looking hard.

Then he realized he was blocking the entrance, and although he bristled all over with male possessiveness, he took a step back. If there were to be fireworks, he’d take them now.

Rogan walked into the room and Elliott saw his eyes land on Jade for the first time. A quick glance told him that she was just finishing the buttons on her jeans. Her bra lay like a beacon in the middle of the room.

“Jade,” Rogan said. Surprise, shock, discomfort flushed his rugged face. Then he tore his attention from her and back to Elliott, who braced himself. But the assault never happened. “I realize I’m deeply in your debt. They said I was going to die, and that you somehow . . . healed me. Completely. No scars, no weakness, no nothing.” Wonder colored his voice, sincere gratitude his eyes.

Elliott felt his mouth tighten. “If you’re in my debt, then I think it would be best if we didn’t mention exactly what happened. It’s miraculous to me as well, and I prefer to keep it a secret. Especially since. . . .” His voice trailed off. Dare he trust the man?

Jade took the decision from him by changing the subject. “Vaughn. What happened? What were you doing outside the walls at night?”

Elliott saw Rogan draw himself up, widening his impressive shoulders, as if affronted by her implication that it wasn’t safe for him to go beyond the protective walls. For the moment, Elliott heartily felt for the man, especially knowing that Jade herself ventured out on a regular basis. “I saw Geoff Pinglett and some of his friends sneaking out of the city and after the other night, I wasn’t about to let that happen.”

“You could’ve sent someone else after them,” she countered, sounding like a mother. Or a big sister. Definitely not like a lover.

“I’m not a goddamned figurehead mayor, Jade,” Rogan said flatly. “I went after them myself because I wanted to and was fully capable of doing so.”

Elliott dared not look at Jade, because he was certain her response to this obviously erroneous statement would be an arched eyebrow. His sympathy for the man grew just a little bit more.

Rogan’s eyes darkened and his face settled. “Jade, you might think your own adventures out and about go unnoticed, but I can tell you that I’ve been fully aware of them for some time. What happened last night was not a mistake, but the result of a trap set for me, or anyone else who might have followed the kids. Including you. So consider it a warning. From me, as well as whoever nearly killed me. Don’t go out beyond the walls until we find out who set up a pair of lions as a booby trap. And if it weren’t for this,” Rogan produced a wicked-looking metal bolt, “I wouldn’t have even made it back behind the walls of the city.”

Elliott recognized the arrow right away. “Is that yours?”

“No. I don’t know where it came from. They found one in the skull of the lion that attacked me, and another near my hand on the ground. Wish I knew who he was, so I could thank him too.”

Before the conversation could continue, another knock sounded at the door, and Elliott went to answer it. It was Lou.

“Oh, thank God,” he said when Elliott answered the door. He’d never seen the man so agitated in his short acquaintance. “Do you know where Jade is?”

“Yeah, she’s here,” he answered, stepping out of the way to offer entrance. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s Theo. He’s badly hurt. I need you and Jade to go after him with me. In case I need help to bring him back.”

“Where is he?”

“A place called Valley Way. A few hours ride southwest from here. He can’t move. We can’t leave him there.” Lou’s glasses were streaked and his mouth set so tightly, wrinkles radiated more deeply than before.

Elliott shook his head. “Of course not. Of course I’ll go.”

“We’ll both go,” said Jade.

“Can’t you go any faster?” Jade asked, her voice tight and high. Just then, the humvee bounced awkwardly into a deep rut and she slammed her head on the ceiling. “Ouch!” She rode next to Elliott in the front seat, a few wisps of her mahogany hair blustering in the wind coming through an open window. She’d pulled it back in a ponytail, but some of it still escaped.

“I could if you wanted to keep banging your head like that,” Elliott told her. “It’s too damn rough to go much faster.” He ducked as they slammed into another small rut, then accelerated as soon as there was a smooth patch.

They had left Envy three hours ago, taking the humvee they’d acquired from the Stranger after the blackout. Lou intended to accompany them, but Jade and Sage had put their feminine feet down and refused to allow it.

In the end, Lou had no choice against their mutiny, especially when Sage pointed out that they might need him on the technical end back in Envy. Jade had also described the problem with Trixie, and Lou reluctantly agreed to stay back and help with explaining her death . . . in a delicate manner.

“What do you know about Fielding?” Elliott asked as he jerked the wheel to avoid a tire-sized rock. He still couldn’t fathom the fact that Quent’s father, Quentin Parris Brummell Fielding, Junior, chairman of Brummell Industries, was one of the leaders of the Strangers.

Elliott’s jaw tightened. It wasn’t bad enough that they had to be stuck in this godforsaken place . . . but for his friend to learn that his father surely had helped to create the mass destruction . . . He couldn’t fathom how Quent was feeling. It was inconceivable.

Bracing herself with a hand pressed against the ceiling, Jade answered his question. “He’s one of the leaders. I only saw him once during my time . . . with the Strangers. The most powerful ones hardly ever left their main compound. The others tended to speak of Fielding with deference and respect. Although I don’t think Preston particularly liked him. You said he’s Quent’s
father
? From . . . before?”

“Yes. And at that time, in 2010, Quent’s father . . . well, he was an extremely rich and powerful man. He had a private side too—a horrible one. He was violent and selfish and probably a little crazy.” He drew in a deep breath, shaking his head. “And now he’s a Stranger. He’s still alive. Quent said he looks the same.”

“Do you mean that this is proof that the Strangers are . . . people like us? Or, people like you and Simon and Quent? People who somehow lived through the Change without dying . . . or growing old?” She sounded breathless . . . as though someone had kicked her in the stomach. The same way Elliott was feeling.

“This means,” he replied slowly, feeling his way with his words just as he was feeling his way on what was left of the road, “I
think
it means that people . . . humans like us . . . caused the Change.” He closed his eyes for a minute and when he opened them, saw a tree looming. He dodged it, ignoring Jade’s squeak of fear. She’d wanted him to go faster. “It wasn’t aliens, it wasn’t people from under the sea who destroyed the world. It was the people who belonged to the Cult of Atlantis. Fielding and the others. People like us.”

People like us
.

Good God. People who had actually planned to destroy the world—not in an act of war, not to expurgate their enemies, but to annihilate the whole world. Everywhere. Everyone.

Except the members of the Cult of Atlantis.

It was like the plot in a Clive Cussler novel come to pass—and this time there had been no hero to foil the plot of mass destruction.

“And,” he added, “even if Fielding and his cult didn’t actually
cause
the events, somehow he had to be involved with them. He’s still alive, still unaged, and he’s a Stranger. There’s no question about that.”

And that was enough for Elliott to condemn the man.

“Look,” Jade said, pointing. “I think that’s it.”

Elliott shielded his gaze in the bright midday sun, peering at the massive, sprawling structure ahead of them. Long, with a multitude of wings, and comprised of an irregular rooftop, the building had no windows. What had once been a covered multilevel parking structure was attached, and vines and bushes grew there with abandon, making it look like the Hanging Gardens of Babylon. An empty space yawned in front of the architectural monstrosity, boasting eruptions of trees and other growth amid what had been an expanse of concrete. A parking lot.