Higher Ground (27 page)

“But we have at least some idea of how far it’s sunk already and how long it took; can’t you work it out?”

“No. There’s no way to know if it will accelerate, slow down, remain steady or not move another millimeter. I don’t have a crystal ball.”

“You could try—”

“I thought you were a scientist.”

Adam scowled. Dammit, did Zach have to act as if Adam was asking him to sell his scientific soul? He just wanted to help motivate people. A rough prediction even based on minimal evidence would help. But if Dr. Principled was too stubborn…

“Time for bed,” Simon said, ever the diplomat. “Long day tomorrow.”

“I’m going to take a walk.” Adam stood, ignoring anyone attempting to speak to him. He clicked on his flashlight and strode off into the darkness. Right now their shared tent would be too small for him and Zach.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Adam found a place to sit in the shelter of some rocks—ready to run like hell away from them if another quake happened. He turned off his flashlight, preferring the darkness to get a better sulk going. No, he wasn’t sulking. He was brooding. Not much better. What the hell was wrong with him? He didn’t brood, though he’d admit to sulking sometimes. But it had been a while since he’d felt as strongly for someone as he did for Zach. And a long time since anyone had gotten on his nerves the way Zach had started to.

Zach’s fault or his own? Or a combination of the two? All this time forced into each other’s company while they grew more tired and irritable by the day, a bust-up was surely inevitable. The relationship had moved so fast; could it end just as fast?

The beam of another flashlight appeared nearby. Zach? Come to talk, maybe apologize? If he thought he had anything to apologize for. He might not, might think himself entirely justified lecturing Adam like a professor.

“Adam?”

Glyn, not Zach. For a second, Adam considered not answering, preferring his solitude. But if he didn’t, Glyn might think something had happened to him and go back and raise a search party.

“I’m here.” Adam turned on his flashlight, and Glyn’s light headed toward him. In a moment, his shadowy figure appeared.

“Are you okay, Adam? I was a bit worried about you going off on your own in the dark. It’s dangerous.”

“I’m fine.”

Glyn didn’t take the short answer as any kind of discouragement; he remained standing there. Waiting for what?

“I’m fine,” Adam said again.

“I’d rather not leave you alone out here.”

Adam sighed heavily. “Okay, sit down. But I’m not good company tonight.”

Glyn sat and turned off his flashlight. Adam did the same with his, and the darkness engulfed them.

“Do you ever miss the moon?” Glyn said.

“Definitely. Several of my years as an undergraduate, I saw more of the moon than of the sun.”

Glyn chuckled. “Bit of a party boy, eh?”

“Could say that.”

“Me too. I’d been looking forward to getting back to Arius, which shows you how dull the outposts are, if Arius was party central.”

Adam didn’t want to talk about Arius. He didn’t want to think of the people he’d attended parties with being dead now. They lapsed into silence again, Adam looking at the stars. He had a strange feeling Glyn was looking at him, not at the stars.

He should go back, he thought. Talk to Zach. They could make up. It was only a stupid row.

“I hope you and Dr. Benesh can settle your differences,” Glyn said, startling Adam by echoing his thoughts. “I hate to see couples fight. Can I ask, have you two been together a long time?”

Adam glanced at the dark shape of him, starlight picking out the edges of his features dimly. A personal question but one couched so politely, in a voice so full of concern Adam forgave it. Maybe Glyn wanted to help Adam work out his sulk.

“No, not long at all. We met right before this whole thing started.”

“Wow, really? I thought you must have been together for a while.”

That made three—Korrie, Simon, and Glyn—who thought Adam and Zach had been together awhile. Adam didn’t know what to make of it. “What made you think that?”

“To be honest, because of the way you argued. What’s the saying? Like an old married couple.”

Adam laughed cynically. His parents sometimes argued like the old married couple they were, leaving him chuckling indulgently. But he and Zach had argued more like a couple heading for divorce.

“Things have moved so fast, you know, because of this situation. And maybe it’s…” He didn’t want to go on, but he summoned the courage to say it. “Over already.”

“I’m sorry.”

Adam shook his head, forced a cheerful tone into his voice. “Nah, it’s fine. Maybe it’s the best way. A relationship express, you know. Better than spending a year with someone and getting badly hurt in the end.” Like he wasn’t badly hurt. He’d taken the express train to misery.

“It is such an unusual situation,” Glyn said. “The danger makes everything seem more intense. I know I’m shocked by how strongly I already feel for you.”

Adam froze. Glyn touched his arm as if trying to orient himself, figuring out Adam’s position.

“I wouldn’t normally do this with a guy who’s in a relationship.” Glyn moved his hand up Adam’s arm, over his shoulder, into his hair. “But what you just said… And we
are
in danger. Anything could happen, and if it did and I’d never kissed you, I’d regret it for however long I have to live.”

He leaned in, his weight and the warmth and scent of him coming close. Adam shouldn’t let it happen. He should push him away. But he did nothing, and Glyn’s lips touched his. Gently at first, then Adam felt Glyn’s tongue touch the seam of his lips, sweep across it, until he instinctively opened his mouth. Glyn sighed as their tongues touched and what felt like a spark arced between them. Good kisser, not too wet a mouth, tongue teasing and caressing.

“Oh Adam,” Glyn sighed, moving apart only a centimeter or two to speak. He ran his other hand up Adam’s thigh, then stroked between his legs. Adam felt an instant stir in his belly and started to harden in response. But before Glyn could go further, Adam brought a hand up between them and pushed him back. Not hard but firmly.

“No. I can’t.”

“I want you, Adam.” His voice was husky and deeper than usual. It sent a tingle down Adam’s spine, and the temptation surged. Let it happen. Nobody had to know. The darkness would conceal them. He had a feeling Glyn would be good. But he became wary, because this suddenly felt too calculated. Glyn had seemed charming and guileless at first, but then he’d watched Adam and Zach fight and had followed Adam out here, surely knowing he’d be in an unsettled state of mind and not in the best position to make rational choices.

“I’m flattered,” Adam said, his hand still on Glyn’s chest, his arm straight, fending him off while trying to ignore his growing erection shifting in his pants. “But I can’t. I’m thinking about the whole group here. I have to work with Zach. If we end up fighting, it’s only going to make things harder for everyone.”

“That’s very selfless of you. Like parents staying together for the sake of the kids when they can’t stand the sight of each other anymore.”

No. Not like that. He didn’t hate Zach. He was no longer sure if he loved him, but hate—ridiculous. “We’d better get back to camp.”

“Sure.” Glyn’s voice sounded cold. From disappointment, Adam assumed. “Sorry to have been so forward, it’s just—”

“I know.” The danger, the craziness of the situation, the forced closeness. Yes, he understood it all, and none of it gave him an excuse for behaving like a dick. He found his flashlight at his side and stood, turning it on. Glyn did the same.

In the distance, farther away than he’d realized he’d walked, Adam saw the lights of the camp. He led the way, Glyn following, not saying anything, until they reached the edge of the camp, where he caught up and walked at Adam’s side. Adam wished they’d come back separately, because Zach was still sitting outside the tent and saw the two of them arrive back together. That couldn’t help. Zach didn’t say anything, turned, and crawled into the tent. Damn.

“Good night, Glyn,” Adam said, turning to see Glyn had gone, his ass already disappearing inside the tiny one-man tent he slept in alone.

“All righty, then.” Maybe Adam should go see Simon, make some insulting remarks about his wife, or suggest Amina didn’t resemble him much; funny, eh? If he worked at it, he could get everyone in camp hating his guts by the morning.

* * * *

In the tent, Zach prepared for bed. He’d come in with his boots on and was busy unlacing them when Adam came into the tent.

“Hey,” Adam said in a sheepish tone Zach didn’t much care for. Feeling guilty?

“Hello.” Zach got both his boots off and tossed them into the rear of the tent. Adam sat and started to get undressed too, before he stopped suddenly, looking down at the sleeping bags. They were not zipped together. Zach had come in while Adam was off somewhere in the dark with Glyn and separated them. It had been a stupid thing to do, he supposed, an act of ridiculous jealousy. But he’d been full of deep, fundamental rage. A caveman again. He would not lie with Adam and smell the sweat of another man on him. The mere thought made his gorge rise. He’d calmed down somewhat, and the scowl on Glyn’s face when the two of them came back had given him some reassurance. But it was too late to remedy the sleeping arrangements, at least not without looking like a fool or admitting why he’d separated the bags—which meant having a conversation which frightened him more than the earthquakes.

“Okay,” Adam said, resuming undressing, keeping his back turned. In such a small space, they couldn’t avoid accidentally brushing against each other sometimes, and each time they did, both pulled away as if they’d been burned.

After a century of silence—which Zach’s lying watch claimed was only five minutes—they got into their separate sleeping bags.

“Ready for the light off?” Adam asked.

“Yes.”

Adam clicked off the electric lantern, and a cold darkness fell in the tent. Outside, they could hear the sounds of voices, the two people on watch, talking quietly to each other. The noise of the wind.

“Adam,” Zach said after another couple of centuries of horrible silence. “Are you still awake?”

A soft snorting sound came from the darkness. “What do you think?”

They should talk this out. He should ask what happened with Glyn. He had the right to ask, didn’t he? Perhaps not anymore. And they hadn’t even discussed anything about rules regarding other men. He had to be reasonable.

“When this is all over, I don’t expect anything from you.”

No answer came from Adam. He lay so still and silent he might as well have been asleep.

“I know we’ve said…some things, maybe got carried away. But I wanted to say I don’t hold you to anything you’ve said. The situation is so extreme it wouldn’t be fair for us to be beholden to anything we’ve said.”

No answer.

“I think it’s more sensible if we concentrate on surviving the next few days. Does that sound okay to you?”

“That does sound sensible, yes.” Not Adam’s usual voice—the one so often halfway to laughter. This was a cold and flat voice.

Zach wanted to scream. He wanted to grab Adam and kiss him stupid and demand he never touch any other man again. Beg him to promise he’d belong to Zach forever. But those were the thoughts of the caveman, not the scientist.

“Good,” Zach said. “Thank you for being so understanding about it.”
I’ll love you forever and pine away and die if you leave my side
. “We’d better get some sleep.”

Adam didn’t answer. Zach heard him turn over and in the darkness could just make out the shape of him. The shape of his back.

Chapter Twenty-Four

They saw the rescue ship the next day. But not coming for them. The group could only watch as the ship descended farther down the slope, picking up people from Torres’s group. They should be celebrating. Yet they stood watching quietly, and Adam knew many people must be wishing the ship was coming for them first. As if they deserved it more because they’d kept faith with Zach and gone on climbing.

“Come on,” Zach said after they watched for a few minutes. “We have to keep moving.”

Nobody came right out and objected, but there were a few sighs and pained looks. If Zach had suggested they camp here and didn’t move again until rescue came, nobody would have argued—except Adam.

It had been raining steadily since breakfast time, and Adam felt like he’d never be dry again. Water got in under his collar and trickled down his spine in an infuriating way. It must be dripping from something on his pack, but he’d have to wait until their next break to fix it. Meanwhile, he’d go quietly mad.

Zach led the way, using his borrowed hiking pole to help him up the increasingly steep slope. Sometimes they climbed parts so steep they had to use their hands too. Everyone hated that, especially Jan, who had to be helped over those stretches. Minor quakes had rattled them three times already today.

Adam walked well behind Zach, in among the group. It wasn’t unusual for him to do so; he’d been doing it since the first day, talking to people, encouraging them, taking their minds off the hardship, assessing the mood of the group. But he wasn’t talking today, and people kept looking at him with nervous expressions, wondering what kept him quiet. Did people assume it was worry and fear? Or did some more sensitive ones realize he and Zach were having issues?

Issues? Funny word to describe total relationship breakdown. Zach’s words kept playing over and over in his mind. Not beholden to each other. Adam had already feared the relationship wouldn’t last, but hearing Zach talk so calmly about it had freaked him out. Didn’t he care? Didn’t he even want to fight for what they had? Or were those proclamations of love born of fear and adrenaline? Had Zach looked back on them with a cooler head and dismissed them as nonsense?

“Fuck.” Glyn, walking nearby, stumbled on loose rock, and Adam grabbed his arm to keep him upright. “Fuck,” Glyn muttered. “I fucking hate this shit.”

“I know. We’ll be stopping for lunch soon. You okay?”