She heard some rustling and a faint cough, and Lucy spun in the direction of the noise. There before her was a supply closet and she fumbled with the key and tore forward; after the lock clicked open, Lucy rushed forward—the door banging behind her. Sure enough, Grant was there, asleep. He was huddled into the fetal position on a cot, two shabby blankets pulled over his body, one leg falling off the bed, exposing a single dirty sock. She walked forward, trembling, and looked as his breath rose and fell. His skin was jaundiced and his eyes were hollow and they appeared black and blue.

She squatted down and wiped a piece of sandy-blonde hair out of his eyes. And then whispered, “Grant. Grant. Wake up.”

Upon hearing his name, Grant bolted upright, his eyes wide. Disoriented, he spun his head left and right before finally settling on Lucy; then after a few bleary seconds, he broke into a smile.

“Lucy! You’re here! You’re really here!” The blankets dropped away, exposing his bare chest and arms, and Lucy gasped. Track marks were etched into his flesh; dots and bruises traveled up and down his arms. Someone had been using him as a pincushion. Grant’s entire body seemed weak and sickly; her father had seemed to drain his body in a short amount of time. “How did you—?”

“It’s a long story…I’ll tell you another time. Just know that I’m here, Grant. I’m sorry it took me so long. I’m so sorry,” Lucy said and she hopped up on the bed next to him, looking at his arms and running her hand over the sores and the scars. “What has he done to you down here?”

“Human guinea pig,” Grant smiled. “Don’t let the body fool you,” he tapped his head. “Positive thinking, works wonders. I’m not that bad. I’ve kept my spirits up.”

“How could you possibly?” Lucy asked and she began to cry. Grant wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into him.

“Hey now,” he said into her hair. “It’s okay. I’m still here. You’re here.”

“I read your letter,” Lucy said and she pulled away, sliding her hands into his as his arms fell away from her shoulders. “I read it and I thought you were dead. I thought you were gone. And when I thought that…when I imagined losing you…”

“I knew I shouldn’t have given that letter to your dad,” Grant replied and he smiled. His single-dimple appeared in the center of his cheek.

“You can tell me anything,” she said. “No secret is too big to keep from me. I wish I had known about your mom…I wish so many things. I need you here with me, don’t you understand? And I’m fighting for that, you need to know that. I’m going to get you out of here.”

Grant squeezed her hand. He winced and coughed to the side. “You’re determined, but Lucy…my fate is sealed. There’s no way you could save me without risking everything.” He smiled a sad smile and then looked away.

“I’ll risk everything then,” Lucy replied and she straightened her back. She took her right hand and reached over and lifted his chin; then she looked him straight in the eye. “Everything.”

“Don’t. Not for me. That’s not what I want. Are you going to get in trouble for seeing me?”

She couldn’t tell him the truth. He had enough to worry about in here. “I’m going to keep seeing you every day until I can get you out of here,” she replied. “I’m sorry if it felt like I’d forgotten…I haven’t forgotten.”

Grant ran his fingers through his hair and smiled. “I hoped you wouldn’t worry about it. I’ve been happy to dream about you being content…”

“That’s ridiculous. I can’t be content in this place—”

He interrupted her. “You’re making it harder for me to come to terms with my future,” he said to her. “Don’t take this the wrong way…but seeing you makes me want to live, Lucy. You make me want to fight. And…with everything that is going to happen to me…”

“Stop!” Lucy said and she put her hand over his mouth, clasping it tightly against his cheeks. She could feel his lips pushing into her palm. “I won’t let anything happen to you,” she whispered. “Shut up. Shut up about giving up. You should fight.”

She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around him and pulled him into her. It felt perfect and right to hold him; she knew her ten minutes would be up soon and she didn’t know what she should say that would maximize that time. Grant brought his hands up and placed them on top of her head, running his hands down her blonde hair. Her body relaxed into his.

As she pulled back, Lucy brushed her lips against Grant’s cheek. It was quick and involuntary. For a moment, her thoughts turned to a real kiss. She thought of leaning in and finding his lips; letting herself finally give in to what she had wanted all along. She exhaled and looked at him.

He looked at her with longing. She could see it in his eyes—she could feel him evaluating the situation and debating if this was the right moment.

His look, so clear, so purposeful, seemed to say that her kiss on the cheek was not enough. And it gave her the courage she needed. With a deep breath, Lucy leaned forward into Grant and aimed her lips for his.

But as she neared him, Grant pulled back.

“No, Lucy,” he said firmly. It wasn’t unkind, but it was clear. Definitive. He shot her down.

She sat up, rigid and embarrassed. Her heart pounded in her chest and she didn’t know what to say or what to do. How could she have misread all the signs? Her frustration grew and she shook her head, fighting back the tears that were threatening to come at any moment.

“Oh, Lucy—” Grant started, his face fell.

“Stop. Don’t explain. I’m sorry.” She closed her eyes tight. She would not cry; she would not cry over a kiss.

He reached for her and she let him grab her hand, but he was clammy and cold. “No. I need to tell you that—”

A rattle and a crash interrupted them. Someone was in the lab and their quick feet were headed in their direction.

The door to the closet bounced open and Grant and Lucy jumped, still holding each other’s hands. She turned her head and saw her father standing in the doorway. He was wearing a bathrobe and in his hand he clutched his keys. Scott looked between Lucy and Grant and then he marched toward her and grabbed her, squeezing her upper arm and yanking her backward.

“Dad! No!” Lucy screamed. “You don’t understand!” She kicked and tried to pull against his weight, but he was bigger and stronger than her. “Don’t do this to me! Let me go!”

Scott spun and with a look of pure anger, he yanked the supply closet door and let it close. Lucy caught a glimpse of Grant’s face; his eyes wide and full of shock and worry, his arms still reaching out for her, and then the wood door obscured her view and Grant disappeared behind it—locked back up in his tomb, alone, and without hope.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Despite Ethan’s failing health, date night became a preoccupation for the Oregon survivors. Even Dean and Joey were caught up in the moment.

Ethan spent a great deal of time outlining his wishes, scribbling out instructions on one of his father’s yellow legal pads, and asking his helpers if they were possible. And suddenly the whole house, with the exception of Spencer—who disappeared to his own home with misgivings and grumblings about not aiding stupidity—seemed to reluctantly cater to the idea that the date would happen whether they wanted it to or not.

Darla had even agreed to be in charge of the food.

And then they rushed about: raiding houses for items they hadn’t needed before, decorating the backyard, and reminiscing about their best dates.