Chương 99

The afternoon passed slowly. Gladice slept. Angelique read. Louis listened to the wind in the trees and the distant calls of birds. He thought of Élise. He wondered what she was doing now. Probably worried sick about him while she organized his family's life in his absence. He almost wanted to call her just to ease her mind, but he didn't want to risk exposing their location. Besides, his father would have already told her he was alive, if not safe.

He forced himself to stop thinking about her and focus on the present. He was with Angelique and Gladice in a warm, safe bed. That was enough. He closed his eyes and drifted into a light sleep. He woke when Gladice shook him.

"Hey, sleepyhead. Wake up." He opened his eyes and looked at her. The sun had begun to set, casting an orange glow through the window.

"What's wrong?"

"Dinner's ready," she said.

"I'm starving. Angel's already downstairs."

"Right." He sat up.

"Let's go." They went downstairs and found the others at the dining table. Donya was ladling out stew from a large pot. The smell of meat and vegetables filled the room.

"Where did this come from?" Louis asked.

"I cooked it with Savannah's help," Donya said.

"I hope it's okay." Savannah shrugged.

"I just chopped the meat and the vegetables."

"It smells good," Louis said. He took a bowl and sat down. Angelique joined him. Barlow was already eating. He nodded at them.

"Evening."

"Evening," Louis replied.

"How are you feeling?"

"Better." Barlow looked at him.

"The swelling went down a little. Still hurts like hell, though."

"I can imagine." Louis took a spoonful of stew. It was good.

"We met the staff couple this morning."

"Yeah. Wade and Ruth." Barlow shook his head.

"They've kept this place standing for years, but they ain't the most welcoming folks."

"That's putting it mildly," Willa said, entering the room and taking a seat.

"They looked like they wanted to boil us in oil."

"They're just old-fashioned," Barlow said.

"Don't take it personal. They do what I pay them for. And that's to stay out of my business."

"I thought everyone in the Holy States is a racist," Gladice said, taking a bowl.

"I'm surprised they're okay with working for a black man."

"They're not okay with it. But they need the money. And I need their discretion." Barlow finished his bowl.

"It's a simple transaction."

"A simple transaction that could get us all killed," Savannah said.

"If they talk," Barlow said.

"And they won't. Not unless the state puts a gun to their head. And even then, I'm not sure they'd do it. They hate the state almost as much as they hate us."

"Why?" Angelique asked.

"Everyone has their reasons." Barlow pushed his bowl away.

"But it's not our concern right now. We should eat and rest while we can. We might have to move fast tomorrow."

"Did you hear something?" Louis asked.

"No." Barlow shook his head.

"But I have a bad feeling. And I've learned to trust my gut over the years." Savannah nodded.

"Me too." Gladice finished her bowl.

"Well, I for one am going to enjoy this meal. And we're going to have a party afterward. We deserve it after all we've been through."

"A party?" Donya's eyes widened.

"What kind of party?" Gladice pointed at the liquor cabinet.

"There is enough good booze in there to keep an army drunk for a week."

"A drunk army is a dead army," Willa said.

"Relax, Willa. We are not an army. We are a bunch of fugitives on holiday. And holidays require alcohol. And music." Gladice looked at the laptop.

"I'm picking the playlist."

"No," Willa said.

"Yes," Gladice insisted.

"No," Willa repeated.

"We should keep the volume down. And not get drunk. It's too risky."

"It's also too risky to stay sober in a place like this." Gladice stood up and walked to the liquor cabinet.

"Come on, Louis. Back me up here."

"I'm having fun today. Fuck the Holy States," Louis said.

"I'm in."

"See?" Gladice grinned.

"Angel?" Angelique shrugged.

"Why not? We have nothing better to do."

"Donya? Savannah? Darnell? What about you?" Gladice looked at them. Donya bit her lip.

"I don't think it's a good idea. Alcohol is a sin."

"Only if you drink too much," Gladice said.

"And we won't. We'll just have a few drinks and relax. It will help us sleep better." Savannah looked at Barlow, who nodded.

"Alright."

"Great." Gladice took out a bottle of bourbon.

"Let's get this party started." She poured drinks for everyone. Donya hesitated, then took the glass. The music began to play, a pop song from the Dominion. Gladice turned up the volume. Willa rolled her eyes.

"You're going to get us all killed."

"Nonsense." Gladice raised her glass.

"To survival," she said.

"To all of us. And to Darnell, for getting us out of Charlotte. And to Louis, for being a pervert." Louis choked on his drink.

"Hey!" Angelique laughed.

"To survival," she said, raising her glass. Barlow laughed once roughly.

"I'll drink to that." The bourbon burned down Louis's throat and into his chest. He let the glass hang in his hand afterward, then went to the bar. Barlow was already there, one elbow braced against the polished wood, his injured arm held close to his body. This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

"Thanks for helping us," Louis said.

"Helping myself more than you." He took a sip of his drink and stared into it.

"I owe Marcus. And you pulled me outta a damn hanging. Ain't forgetting that." Louis nodded.

"I am glad we got there in time."

"Yeah, me too." Barlow grunted.

"Though I can't say your methods were what I expected. Asking a black man to wear a Klan hood? That's some ballsy shit."

"It worked." Barlow's mouth twitched.

"It did. I'll give you that." He looked up.

"Where you from, anyway? Ain't never met a white boy from the Dominion before."

"LA." Louis shrugged.

"Born and raised."

"Huh." Barlow shook his head.

"That's another world."

"It is." Barlow studied him for a moment, then raised his glass.

"To another world." Louis tapped his glass against Barlow's.

"To another world." They drank again. Louis turned and found Gladice watching him. She was leaning against the fireplace with her arms crossed and her glass loose in one hand.

"What?" he asked.

"Dance with me," she said. He hesitated, then set his glass down.

"I don't dance well on this leg."

"You don't have to be good. Just move." She took his hand and pulled him toward the center of the room. The music changed to an electronic track with a beat and a bass line that moved through the floor. Gladice put his hands on her hips and let him lead.

"Just follow me," she said.

"Don't think." He tried. His knee hurt at first, but the bourbon had reached his head, and the music made it easier to ignore the pain. Gladice moved easily, sure of the beat. He focused on her instead of his own awkwardness. She smiled when he almost lost the rhythm, laughed when he stepped on her foot, and kept moving.

"Relax," she said, close enough that he could feel her breath against his ear.

"You look like you could give Julian another punch." That made him laugh. He let the stiffness leave his shoulders. The next beat came easier. She spun under his arm and came back against his chest. Then the song changed. Gladice pulled away and turned to the others.

"Angel!" she called over the music.

"Come dance!" Angelique looked up from the arm of a chair. She was already on her third glass of something clear with lime. She raised one eyebrow.

"With you or him?"

"Both!" Gladice grinned. Angelique laughed and set her drink down. She crossed the room, her movements already looser, and took Louis's hand.

"Let's see if we can do better together." He smiled and let her lead. Angelique was not as uninhibited as Gladice, but she moved with more control, and she kept close enough that he did not have to put much weight on the bad leg. Gladice danced around them, laughing, spinning, sometimes joining in, sometimes stepping back to watch. The three of them moved together in the firelight and the music. When the song ended, Louis was breathing hard, and his knee ached.

"Alright," he said.

"My turn to sit." Gladice and Angelique kissed him quickly, each on one cheek.

"Good," Gladice said.

"I'll dance with Angel." He watched them for another song, then went to refill his glass. Donya stood in the kitchen doorway with her glass of sparkling water and lime held in both hands. She watched the room in silence.

"Not in the mood for partying?" he asked. She shook her head.

"This feels strange."

"What part?"

"All of it. The drinking. The dancing." She looked around the room.

"Three days ago I was imprisoned in the basement of a church waiting to be burned alive. And now I am... here. With you. In the mountains. Drinking. It feels like it shouldn't be real." He leaned against the doorframe beside her.

"It's real."

"Then it's wrong," she said.

"I shouldn't be happy when other people are suffering." He sipped his bourbon.

"The world doesn't stop for grief. And it doesn't punish joy. You're allowed to feel both." She looked at him.

"Are you?" He looked at her.

"Yes. And it's a mess." She smiled a little, then looked down at her glass.

"I have a feeling you are destined for great things, Louis." He raised an eyebrow.

"Why do you say that?"

"Because I believe in signs." Donya held the glass in both hands.

"And you feel like a sign."

"Of what?"

"I don't know yet." She shook her head.

"But I am praying for you. Every day."

"Thank you, Donya." He clinked his glass against hers.

"I need all the prayers I can get." She smiled.

"Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?" He shrugged.

"Go ahead."

"Do you ever think about your soul?" He considered that for a moment.

"Not often."

"Maybe you should." Donya looked at him.

"We all have souls. Even the people who don't believe in them. And they matter. Even if you don't think so."

"I'll keep that in mind," he said.

"Good." She nodded and drank her water.

"Because I think your soul is beautiful. And I want you to take care of it."

"I will," he said, not sure whether he was lying or not.

"I promise." He left her and went outside to get some air. He stepped onto the back deck. After the heat of the great room, the deck felt cool. The air smelled of pine and damp earth. Savannah stood by the railing, her glass half empty beside one foot. She looked out toward the mountains, now hidden in the dark.

"Taking a break?" he asked, coming to stand beside her.

"Something like that." She did not look at him.

"I don't dance." He glanced at her.

"Why not?" She shrugged one shoulder.

"Never learned. My daddy ain't raise me for parties. He raised me to survive." She was quiet for a moment.

"Are you okay?" he asked. She breathed out through her nose.

"No. But I ain't dead. That's something."

"You lost your home. That's not nothing."

"No. It ain't." She turned to look at him.

"But I ain't lose my family. And I ain't lose myself." She pushed off the railing.

"That's more than a lot of folks can say right now." He nodded.

"True enough." She looked tired when she turned back to him.

"You know something? I don't think we getting out of this country alive." Louis kept his voice calm.

"Why do you say that?"

"Because this feels like the end." She gestured toward the house and the trees beyond the deck.

"We hiding in a resort in the mountains, waiting for your father to save us, drinking expensive bourbon, and dancing like the world ain't gone mad around us." She shook her head.

"That's how people act when they know they done. When they want to feel something good before the end." He did not answer right away. The wind moved in the pines. Behind them, the music thumped faintly through the glass.

"Maybe," he said.

"Or maybe we're just tired of being scared. Maybe this is how we remind ourselves we're still alive." He looked at her.

"And if it is the end, at least we had this." She stared at him, then gave a bitter laugh.

"You really are a politician."

"I learned from the best." He raised his glass in a small toast.

"To the good moments, however long they last." Savannah watched him for a moment longer, then raised her glass and drank.

"To the good moments." They stood together for a while. Then Louis said, "I'll teach you to dance when we get out." Savannah turned her head toward him.

"You assuming we'll get out."

"I am telling you we will." He tried to make it sound true.

"And when we do, you and I are going to spend an evening embarrassing ourselves on a dance floor somewhere. I promise." This time, she smiled.

"Alright. I'll hold you to that." He nodded and finished his drink. When he went back inside, the party had thinned. Barlow was gone. Donya was gone too. The fire had burned lower. Willa was in the study, the laptop open to a map. He went in. She sat in the leather chair by the lamp with one sock on and the other under the desk. She looked up when he entered.

"Hi," she said.

"Hello." He came around the desk.

"What are you doing?"

"Staring at a map." She gestured at the screen.

"Hoping it will tell me something useful."

"Has it?"

"No. But it keeps me busy." He smiled and leaned against the desk. In the study, the music was only a low bass pulse through the walls.

"I haven't had a chance to thank you," she said.

"For saving me in Atlanta."

"You saved me too," he said.

"I didn't almost die for you. You almost died for me." She looked at him.

"I was terrified. And I didn't show it. But I was."

"I know." He reached out and touched her cheek. Her skin was cool. She did not pull away. She looked at him, her breathing a little fast.

"I need to know something."

"Anything." She took a breath.

"Last night. When you were with them." She paused.

"Was it good?" He met her eyes.

"Yes." She nodded once.

"Are you in love with both of them?"

"Yes."

"Equally?" He hesitated, then said, "I don't know if it works that way. It's different with each of them. But it's real with both." He watched her.

"Why are you asking?" She looked down at her hands, then back at him.

"Because I am trying to understand something."

"What?"

"How you make room for more than one person." Her voice was quiet and precise.

"And whether you have room for someone else." For a moment, he heard only the music through the walls. Louis said, "Willa—""I'm not asking because I'm lonely." She cut him off.

"I'm asking because I want to know where the line is. With you. With them. I don't know how to navigate this. I've never done anything like this before." She shook her head once.

"And I don't want to hurt anyone by mistake." He looked at her. He wanted her.

"I don't know where the line is either," he said softly.

"But I think we can figure it out together. If you want to." She swallowed once.

"I want to." He leaned down and kissed her. Her lips were soft and warm. She kissed him back at first with small, careful movements, then harder. He deepened the kiss, and she let him, her hands coming up to rest on his chest. When she leaned closer, he felt her heart beating against him. His own was no slower. They broke apart just enough to breathe. She looked at him.

"Are you sure?" she whispered.

"Yes," he said.

"Are you?" She nodded.

"Yes." He kissed her again, and this time it was not careful. His hands moved to her waist, pulling her up from the chair. She stood with him, close against his body. He ran one hand up her back, feeling her shiver under his touch. She made a soft sound against his mouth, and he was hard now, wanting her.

"Come with me," she murmured, taking his hand.