A New Threat

Grant wakes up because the fridge kicks on.

He does not flinch this time. He hears it, files it, and lets it go. Priya is asleep against his arm, still naked under the sheet. Her pulse is slow. Eve is gone. Mary is sitting on the edge of the bed slowly putting a shirt on like she wanted him to see her body first.

“You slept,” she says.

“Some.”

“Good enough. Get dressed. I want you walking under real noise before we call this handled.”

He does. The map comes on when he wants it. Fifty-six. Store team is a tight cluster on 12th. Nobody running.

Priya sits up as soon as he moves.

“Do you need me?”

“Clothes. Food. Then you stay on this floor unless I take you.”

“Yes, Grant.” She kisses him as she gets up. He admires her gorgeous slender body before regaining his focus. Mary notices and smiles as he looks over at her. He gets dressed and they leave the bedroom together.

The main room is already working. Noor’s list. Harlow’s cereal. Coffee that Ashlyn puts in his hand without asking about last night. He can smell the grounds, the cardboard, somebody’s wet hair.

“We check the store,” he says. “Then we see what the map shows. I am not clearing another dorm until I can stand in fluorescent lights without wanting to leave.”

They take the bus. Jose starts it before anyone has officially agreed. The engine is a problem. Grant tries to ignore it and keeps his focus.

They are halfway to 12th when he hears the honk.

Two short. One long. A third that is just panic. After that, a van door slamming. A man laughing once. Emma’s voice, cut off.

“Leanne,” he says.

Mary is already standing. “Jose. Faster!”

The lot is wrong when they get there.

Hot asphalt. Oil. The van’s exhaust sitting in the air, smelling like the seats have been slept in. A dark van aimed toward the dock, side door open. Two men. One of Leanne’s display racks is on its side, metal still ticking. Sadie is on the ground by the pallet jack with a bat. A man is circling her. Grant can hear Sadie’s breath hiss every time she turns. He can hear the man’s shoes grit.

Grant is off the bus before the door folds all the way. The scene hits him all at once: rubber, sweat, the sour inside of the van, blood on Emma’s wrist that he has not seen yet.

The first man sees him and smiles.

“Easy. Store has a lot of food for one group. We can share. We saw the bus yesterday. Counted.”

His heart is fast. Normal. No extra strength in it. Grant can smell cheap deodorant and last night’s beer on him.

“You counted wrong.”

The second man has a crowbar. The iron stinks when he shifts his grip. He looks at Mary, then at the girls getting off the bus.

Leanne’s voice comes from inside, raw, close to the glass.

“Grant. They grabbed Emma. She’s in the van.”

He hears Emma then. Short breaths. Plastic crate edge against bone. She is not screaming. She is furious.

The smiling one swings.

Grant hears the shoulder turn before the arm. He steps inside it, takes the front of the shirt — damp, hot — and puts him on the concrete. The man’s head hits. Teeth click. Grant does not hit him a second time. He can already hear the air going in and out.

The crowbar man hesitates. The iron dips. Eve’s rifle makes a sound. He drops the bar. It rings too loud.

Sadie does not wait. She opens the van door in a hurry. The panel booms. Inside is worse: old milk, warm vinyl, somebody’s unwashed blanket. Emma is on the floor between two crates, wrist already darkening. Grant smells the bruise before he sees it. She looks at him and the loyalty is just there.

“I’m fine. Please get me out.”

Paige pulls her out. Emma’s pulse jumps and then steadies when her feet hit the lot.

The crowbar man starts talking again.

“We didn’t know they were—”

“Yes you did,” Mary says.

Grant checks the map.

No other blanks nearby. Two more in a brick building down the block, sitting. A TV on in there, too thin to be danger. Not men.

The smiling one on the ground is breathing through his mouth. Blood on his lip. Not upgraded. He is still ordinary and scared.

“You get the van,” Grant says. “You do not get the store. You do not get a girl. You drive back toward the river and you tell whoever sent you that 12th is taken.”

“And if we don’t?”

“Then next time I won’t hold back.” Grant answers coldly.

The smile fades on his mouth as he stands up with some difficulty. “You will regret this.” He says with venom as he spits blood on the ground in front of Grant.

Grant doesn’t react. The two men don’t say anything else as they get into the van. The engine coughs. Exhaust rolls over the lot and Grant has to almost hold his breath as they drive off.

Inside the store the fluorescents buzz. Maya’s keys biting her own palm. Riley on the roof, breathing too hard. He hates the lights. He does not walk out.

“That was a good test,” Mary says.

“Yeah.”

He looks at the two blanks down the block, then at fifty-six points, then at the empty lane.

“We hold the store tonight with more bodies. I am not leaving eight people on an invitation. Leanne, you keep command here. I will send you six more before dark.”

Leanne nods once. He can hear her swallow.

“Next time I honk earlier.”

“Next time I get here faster.”

On the bus ride back, Emma sits near the front and rubs her wrists. Grant can hear the tendon move. Priya looks at his hands once, checking for blood, and relaxes when there isn’t any.

Mary watches his face.

“You good?”

“Loud. Not useless.” He tips his head toward the brick place. “Two unclaimed in there. After we reinforce the store. Not before.”

“Good. That sounded like a plan instead of a hunger.”

Jose takes a corner too wide. The tires squeal. Grant lets that be the loudest thing for a second and does not chase the blanks at the edge.

The van now knows his face. He needs to be ready.