Page 78 of Doomsdate

Bong.

“Yeah?” I breathe, lost in the light he gives off. My star shining brightly in this night.

Bong.

His free hand gently lifts my chin, the pad of his thumb lazing across my jaw before he dips his head, his lips meeting mine in a soft, velvety brush. “Yes, Ms. Shenandoah.”

Chapter Seventeen

Maisie

“CQ, CQ, CQ, Gramps, this is Maisie-girl, come in.” I barely get the words out before a fireball of static booms out of my small ham radio’s speakers.

“OH, DEAR SWEET LORD!”

Everett glances up from the park bench in front of my rig, where he sits waiting for me to have my check-in. Guess he heard that. He tilts his head, questioning, and I mouth, It’s fine!

“This is Maisie, not god.”

“AFTER THE NINETEEN SEVENTIES, I DON’T EVEN BELIEVE IN YOU, LORD, BUT YOU CAME THROUGH!”

“Gramps, I’m fine.” I laugh a little, as glad to hear his voice as he is mine. “How are you doing?”

“Nearly DIED of worry!” Gramps exclaims into the mic. “But I’ve hung on long enough to chew you out.” The words come out thick and gruff, and from the rumpled, honking sound, he’s blowing his nose into a hankie. “Barely.”

Ah. The guilt trips have begun.

“Where were you, Maisie? Why didn’t you radio? I hear nothing from you last night. Nothing from you yesterday morning, and nothing from you the night before that!”

I cringe. I knew I should’ve radioed the evening we spent in the White House, but I wasn’t ready to tell Gramps about my decision to stay another night with Everett. And then, yesterday, rather than radio him first thing, I’d intended to contact him after Everett was safely with his parents. I figured I’d need the comfort, but of course, that didn’t happen when we got freaking kidnapped first.

“I’m so sorry to make you worry, Gramps. Everett and I—”

“Everett?” Gramps says his name in two angry syllables—Ev-rit?! “You’re still carryin’ on with that boy? What happened to dropping his ass off?”

My jaw clenches. “If by ‘carrying on’ you mean getting kidnapped, then sure.”

“That BOY KIDNAPPED YOU?!”

“Good god, Gramps. No. Not by Everett. By some weird gym people. Long story short, I took Everett to his sister’s house, but she wasn’t there. She promised in a letter that her parents would come for Everett the next day, so I offered to stay with him one more night. The next morning, the kidnappers caught us by surprise right before Everett was set to meet up with his family.” I blow out a breath. “You know, if you ever meet Everett, you’re gonna feel awfully stupid for having worried about him so much.”

“Why on earth would I ever have to meet him? You’re not bringing him to my bunker, are you? Because he ain’t allowed!”

The tone he uses—first disgusted, then accusatory—hits my stomach like a brick of bad food.

“Excuse me, but did you miss the part where I said we were kidnapped?” I press my lips into a tight line, then punch the talk button again before he can respond. “If it weren’t for Everett, I might not have escaped at all, but luckily we did, and after spending an entire night outside with no gear and no food freezing our asses off, surrounded for miles by hordes of zombies, the last thing I want to hear is you dogging my survival partner!”

The line is quiet for a full beat.

“If it weren’t for your useless survival partner, you wouldn’t have been in this mess at all!”

“You’re right, Gramps.” I punch out each word like a right hook, furious. “I’d have been too scared to leave Durham if I’d never met Everett, and I’d be stuck there still, so maybe you ought to be grateful that someone has my back out here instead of yelling at me about the one good thing in my life right now!”

Again, my admission is met with Gramps’s silence. But he doesn’t need to say a word, because I already know what he’s thinking. How could I trust Everett like this? How could I take these risks with my life and my heart?

“Maisie-girl,” Gramps finally says, his voice so loaded with disappointment and frustration and judgment it makes me want to scream. “I’m afraid you’ve lost your head over this boy. He’s got you making bad decisions. Choosing to spend a night in D.-freaking-C.? What were you thinking?! Was it about your survival at all, or just that boy’s butt?! Your mama’s probably rolling in her grave!”

I suck in a sharp breath, then bark out a laugh in the empty car, rage pulsing through my body. I jam the talk button. “You know what I’m thinking about? I’m thinking about how I’m almost thirty years old, and I’ve never lived a goddamn day in my life until this zombie apocalypse started, and it’s because of you, Gramps! You and Mom and all the people like you, who’ve trained me to avoid life because somewhere along the way, life hurt you, and you couldn’t get over it. But that’s stupid, Gramps, and it’s unfair, because you had your chance to live and love and make mistakes. You’ve traveled the world! But I haven’t—I haven’t done anything! And I’m not some precious, fragile doll you can keep tucked away on a shelf, so stop trying to put me there!”