Fallout Dreams

miava02

mia didn't waste time admiring the boards she secured across ava's window, but stole another xannie, grabbed the slats, and blew through the door to the living room.

why am i sweltering? she used her shirt to wipe her forehead, pits, and chest. for a split second she considered opening a window, then face-palmed her stupidity, grabbed the next piece of siding, and hammered another barricade.

outside, magnolias bobbed to the rhythm of the wind. branches waved and wiggled like the arms of a blow-up man promoting a mattress sale.

mia had never been afraid of storms... but she'd never experienced one in a century-old ranch. every pane rattled. the fireplace whistled like blowing a bottle top. every few seconds, the roof inhaled, held its breath, then sighed.

the slats aren't just keeping someone out, they're holding this house together.

she finished boarding the living room and checked her cell.

no service. no texts. 4% battery.

she was just about to pocket her phone when she had an epiphany. i can make calls on wi-fi!

she dragged the remaining planks to the kitchen, dropped them by the back door, and plugged her phone in the charger already laying on the counter.

she opened a secondary chat app, double checked her wi-fi connection, and clicked the icon by nolan's name. (whiffs of last night's affair haunted mia with every ring; that sweaty, human smell of unfamiliar sex, that male musk ladened with the same breath-stealing effect as ammonia, and—somewhere beneath it all—that stupid fucking skunk. the smells were so real she had to glance behind her to make sure he wasn't sniffing her neck.)

nolan answered on the third ring. "hello?"

"it's me," she pleaded. "i need you. now."

* * *

the open hatch was an invitation.

patience, ava told herself.

she placed the tape player back by the trap door where she found them, then pressed her ear against the closet (how many times had he done the same?), made sure she was alone, and left.

ava stepped through her bedroom as if she was selecting a casket at a funeral home.

palm against black paint, she wondered what type of person had access to such an impossible gift.

splotches above the closet door; only with the most careful scrutiny was she able to see the outline of the claw that had frightened her sister.

he was standing right here, she thought. twice! once when he left the print, once to cover it up. touching it made her feel small.

girls in high school used to say that a guy's obsession could either be adorable or creepy depending on his appearance. when an attractive man watches you sleep, it's cute. when an ugly guy does it...

ava had asked her sister what the man looked like (right before mia snagged her hair and tried dragging her to the car). "rugged," was all she'd say before claiming the room was too dark and she was too scared to form a strong opinion of the mystery man's looks.

ava didn't recall moving to the center of her room, yet found herself standing directly beneath the chandelier, studying the intricate iron spirals, marveling at the tiny lens hidden inside.

"hello," she mouthed and tapped her nail against the glass.

she stepped to her nightstand, plucked her watch from the arms of the black-stained cross, and inspected the hands frozen at 9:35... the exact moment the doctors declared her dead.