Apocalypse: Too Late To Want Me Back

MAREN

“Your evacuation pass has already been used.”

I looked at the scanner in the driver’s hand, then at the vehicle waiting behind him. “That’s not possible. I just came outside.”

He checked the screen again. “Maren Ellis?”

“Yes. My husband brought both our passes out a few minutes ago.”

That had to be the problem. Grant probably handed them over together, and the driver scanned mine before I arrived.

I adjusted the bag on my shoulder. “He’s already inside. Could you ask him?”

The driver turned towards the open door.

“Grant,” I called. “They think I’ve already boarded.”

My husband appeared, but before he stepped down, I saw the woman sitting behind him.

Celeste Mercer.

Her daughter was tucked against her side, and Grant’s jacket lay across her knees. I stared at her. She was supposed to be miles away, staying with relatives. At least, that was what Grant told me when I asked why she kept calling.

“What is she doing here?”

Grant stepped onto the pavement. “Maren, come over here.”

“The driver says my pass has been used.”

“I know. Let me explain.”

My eyes returned to Celeste. She looked away.

“What did you do?”

Grant lowered his voice. “I transferred your clearance to her.”

I waited for him to continue. There had to be another part to that explanation.

“Where’s mine?”

“We’ll arrange another evacuation.”

“When?”

“I’m working on it.”

“Show me the booking.”

He glanced towards the driver. “There isn’t one yet.”

My hand tightened around the bag strap.

For three weeks, I had tried to get us out. Every online departure sold out before I finished entering our details. When the clearance office announced an in-person allocation, I stood outside from midnight until the following afternoon.

Grant stayed home because he said he was sick.

“You gave her the pass I queued for?”

“Lucy needs her mother.”

“Then where does that leave me?”

“I just told you. We’ll find another vehicle.”

“Everything is booked.”

“There will be cancellations.”

“Then she can wait for one.”

Celeste leaned towards the doorway. “Grant, we need to leave.”

“I know. Give me a minute, okay?”

He spoke gently, as though she had every right to be worried while I was simply being difficult. My eyes dropped to his jacket on her lap.

“How long have you been sleeping with her?”

Grant stopped looking towards the vehicle.

“This is hardly the time.”

“How long?”

Lucy shifted beside Celeste, who immediately wrapped an arm around her.

“Please don’t do this in front of my daughter.”

I looked at her. “You’re leaving with my husband, using my pass, and you want me to worry about making you uncomfortable?”

“Maren,” Grant warned.

I turned back to him.

That tone was familiar. He used it whenever I asked another question after he thought a conversation should be finished. Only this time, I could see what he had been protecting.

“Were you with her while I was outside the clearance office?”

“I was sick.”

“You didn’t answer your phone.”

“My battery died.”

“Did hers?”

He released a breath and looked away. I remembered coming home with swollen feet and a headache. He made me tea, kissed my forehead, and told me I had saved us.

Apparently, I had saved him and Celeste.

The driver checked his watch. “We have to move. The eastern checkpoint closes in forty minutes.”

I looked inside the vehicle. “There’s a seat.”

A woman moved her bag from the empty place behind her. “I can sit there.”

“You need valid clearance at intake,” the driver said.

“I had valid clearance.”

“I can’t reverse the transfer here.”

“Then take me to whoever can.”

He shook his head. “They’ll refuse you at the settlement gate.”

I stepped towards the vehicle anyway, but Grant caught my arm.

“Don’t make this harder.”

I looked down at his fingers. “Take your hand off me.”

He released me.

“You can give Celeste your pass,” I said.

His expression changed.

“What?”

“You heard me. Give her yours and stay here with me.”

Celeste sat straighter.

Grant shook his head. “That doesn’t solve anything.”

“It means you don’t leave your wife behind.”

“Someone needs to get inside and arrange your admission.”

“Celeste can do that.”

“She has a child to look after.”

I stared at him. There was an answer for everything. He had already decided who mattered, and nothing I said would change it. Still, I reached for his hand.

“Grant, please. Stay.”

He did not take it.

Suddenly, we heard a scream from next door. Our neighbor, Mr. Henshaw stumbled onto his porch, struck the railing, and lifted his head. Blood covered his mouth. Yesterday, he had asked whether we needed batteries. Now he was coming towards us.

“Everybody inside!” the driver shouted.

“Grant!” Celeste screamed.

My husband stepped towards me. I reached for him, relieved despite everything. We could argue later. He only needed to pull me onto the vehicle.

Instead, his hands closed around my shoulders and shoved. My heel caught the garden edging. I fell backwards through our open gate, landing on my hands.

The gate slammed. Grant turned the key. I stared at him before scrambling up.

“What are you doing?”

He stepped away.

“Open it!”

Mr. Henshaw hurried past the vehicle towards our fence. I reached through the bars and caught Grant’s sleeve.

“The side fence is broken. He can get in!”

Grant looked towards the loose panel. He knew about it. I had asked him to repair it twice.

“Give me the key.”

He pulled his arm back, but I held tighter.

“Please. Don’t leave me here.”

Celeste called his name again. Grant peeled my fingers from his sleeve and climbed aboard with our supply bag.

The door closed, and I watched him sit beside her while the vehicle pulled away. He never looked back.

Behind me, the fence rattled. I grabbed the gate’s upper rail and put my foot on the crossbar. My scraped hands slipped, but I caught the metal again and pulled.

I lifted my knee towards the top. Suddenly, a hand closed around my ankle. I looked down at Mr. Henshaw’s bloodied mouth just as he pulled me backwards.