Chapter Seven
Beyond a Lie
2028
The weather was shit. Seriously. Whose bright idea had it been to build a life in the Austrian Alps? And could he have a word with whoever that'd been, because why on Earth hadn't they gone south back when things had gone… you know, the other kinda south? Because maybe—just maybe—if they'd fled the apocalypse like birds fled the winter, then Kyle wouldn't have to deal with weather that couldn't decide if it was going to blow him off his feet, or straight up murder him with sharp hail.
Yeah.
South would've been nice. Somewhere warmer. With a beach view, maybe. And a beach bar nearby; those round things with the salty bar tops and unsteady bar stools and where you picked up a sunburn while you got shitfaced.
God.
He missed beach bars (in that peculiar way you could miss something you'd only ever hung at once and had a real bad time after 'cause sunburn and shitfaced weren't exactly a great combo).
But, no.
South had been too risky. Lots of people had gone that way. And with lots of people came lots of fear, hunger, and even more bitey mouths. All of which past Kyle had known and which had been why they'd stayed put. Here. Where the winters were harsh and April liked to come around for another cold bite.
Boo, rational thinking. Boo.
Annoyed, Kyle took a moment out of his busy day to glare at the dark clouds getting hounded across the sky by a howling storm. The hail had stopped at least. Now. When he was nearly inside, where he'd be as snug as he'd ever be.
With thoughts of all that snug-ness teasing a smile to his lips, he dragged the front door open and scuffed cold mud from his shoes. Wind buffeted against the door and nearly slammed it shut (it knocked into his shoulder, ow), before he heard it: the sudden pop of shattering glass.
All thoughts of beach bars, the weather, trips south, and the weird after-taste of a hangover he hadn't had in years flushed from his head. The smile took off with them.
The glass shattering was followed by a loud crash. And then little Theo started crying.
Kyle's imagination wasted no time. An entire film roll worth of horrors scrolled through his mind, fast enough he could barely keep up. Biters had managed to get in; one after the other piling through the back door, the windows, and through holes in the roof Kyle damn well knew didn't exist. Then the Biters morphed into Volatiles; a whole stadium worth that somehow squeezed into a one-and-a-half-floor cottage. Next came those shitty dudes with their tentacles, and, eventually, the living. Maybe it was the leftovers of Tobias's clan. Or hungry neighbours. Or a Pilgrim who'd dropped his moral compass.
Last up—before the film roll snapped—was Tobias himself, risen from the dead and with vengeance leaking from the hole in his head.
The reality was a lot less dire (for once) and a lot less dramatic. He found no zombies. No daytime burglars. No one out for revenge.
Nah.
Just little Theo. Fi. The dogs. And an extra layer of chaos which he couldn't remember being there when he'd left. Not like he'd been gone long, no. He'd just dipped out for— what, two hours? Drawing up ranger schedules with Damien took time, alright?
Fi stood by the sink, facing the window, while little Theo had the run of the place and had parked himself by the foot of the coffee table. He was bawling. Lots and lots and lots of bawling, while all kinds of bullshit lay scattered around him. The tablecloth hung low, and Kyle figured little Theo must have pulled on it, upending a corner of the table's content on the floor. There was a book. Cutlery. Pens. Jar caps. A wooden duck. An unlit candle. Pins. Matches.
A glass.
In pieces.
With the shards only one clumsy baby-wiggle away from little Theo.
And little Theo, his crying tapering off, decided to do just that: wiggle into the direction of the least baby-appropriate shit having come down around him. If it hadn't been for Miss daintily avoiding the shards and shoving her snout at little Theo, knocking him back— well, Fi sure as hell wasn't doing shit. She'd not even turned around.
Which Kyle noticed. Yeah, he fucking noticed, all while his heart kicked up a storm and he hurried inside. Two and a half mud-dragging steps later and he'd scooped Theo (C'mere, little man.) up. Just in time, too, since Theo had decided Miss's nose might've been great, but flopping into the general direction of the shiny bits on the floor was miles better. Especially if he could jam one of them into his mouth.
(Or that was how Kyle decided to interpret the whole deal.)
"Fi, what the fuck?" Kyle snapped before he had a chance to think the words over. "You want him to swallow glass or what?"
Okay, that'd been a stupid-ass question. He knew that. But he couldn't help it, much as he couldn't help how it'd come up in anger. Or stop what he said next. Whatever control he might have had over what came out of his mouth had taken a hike and tripped down a hole.
"Pay some goddamn attention."
That last one had done it and Fi finally turned around. She held a mug in what must have been a death grip with how tense her fingers curled around it. Soapy water dripped from her hands. And there were tears in her eyes. Not just fresh ones, no, but the kind of tears that'd been around for a while. Long enough to turn her eyes red and puffy.
Kyle's heart compressed violently. Like he'd had a piston slam down on it; over and over again, squeezing anger and confusion from it in equal measure.
Theo resumed crying. Whether because Dad had shouted or because he'd been removed from Miss's snout and the promise of glass treats, Kyle did not know.
"I don't got eyes in the back of my head," Fi bit back.
It's okay, no one got hurt, Kyle wanted to say, but it came out more like, "What, and your ears? Those fall off? Huh?"
Speaking of ears: Miss's flattened. She tucked her tail, ducked her head, and ambled over to the corner where Chief had already shoved his head between his front paws.
"No, but I bloody well wish they did because all they're hearing lately is the wailing. Day 'n night!"
"He's a baby, Fi." Kyle adjusted his grip on Theo, his hands and arms going about the motion of bouncing him on auto-pilot alone. "That's what they do. They cry."
"Well make it stop!" She threw the mug.
Threw. The damn. Mug.
It was like he'd sidestepped into a mirror dimension or some bullshit like that. Maybe when he'd come through the door? Maybe his Paper Tiger—the real Fi, the one he'd known for thirteen years—was elsewhere and still waiting for him to come home.
The mug whizzed past Kyle's ear, missing him by half an inch before it shattered against the wall, a near-'miss' that did not escape him. Fi did not 'miss'. She did not randomly chuck things. Her aim was—at all times—impeccable and accurate down to the millimetre. That close shave? That'd been on purpose; a warning shot for what was about to come.
Unbridled rage.
Her features (which had always been too gaunt since she'd never been allowed to give in to comforts) were too hollow. Too sharp. And right now, they were warped by an ugly flavour of anger Kyle hadn't ever seen on her. Since just as her aim was precise, Zofia's anger had always been a controlled beast, tightly bound and measured. Even when the virus had nearly gotten her (twice), its rage had barely made it to the surface.
But right now? Right now, it was enough to compress his lungs down to a pinprick. Though he still had enough air left to raise his voice.
"Jesus fucking Christ, Fi—" Was he shouting? Why was he shouting? Why was she shouting? Oh God. Rewind, dude. Rewind. Rewind. Go back outside, come back in. "—what's wrong with you?"
"What's wrong with me?" She took a sharp step forward and pointed a finger at him. Or, rather, at Theo. At crying, sobbing, Theo. "Him."
Kyle opened his mouth—
"I can't stand him," Zofia continued, not giving him a chance to speak. "I can't even look at him and I can't bloody look at you either, 'cause every time I do, all I see is how this's going hunky-dory for you, isn't it? You've got the time of your life putting on the dad shoes while all I want to do is fly off the nearest summit so I don't got to listen to his constant. shrieking!"
She paused just long enough to breathe.
"It's driving me insane. He's driving me insane. That I've got him at all is driving me insane because I didn't want him. So why don't you go find someone else to play house with? Someone who's got what it takes because I sure as bloody hell don't. And then you don't got to worry about him stuffing shit in his mouth that don't belong there!"
Kyle was too stunned to react. A trap door must have opened up under him since all he felt was a gut-churning falling sensation. Down and down he went, while Fi stomped past him. She threw her coat on. Shoved her feet into her boots. And then she shouldered her way out the door.
Out into the winds. The cold. And the hail, which had come back while Kyle had gotten his insides scooped out.
"Fi—"
The door slammed shut.
They'd never fought before.
They'd had spats, yeah. Tiffs. Squabbles. Even back when they'd just met and when he'd been convinced she hated his guts (and he'd been the muppet with a limp lettuce for a brain), their confrontations had always been short-lived and quickly forgotten. A lot of that may have been down to how they'd had far more important things to worry about, but…
They'd never fought before.
And he'd sure as hell never raised his voice at her.
And she'd never—
Kyle struggled to finish the thought.
She'd walked out on him.
She'd walked out on them.
She'd told him—
The thought lodged itself sideways in his head and Kyle was left blinking lamely down at the glass and dirt shored up against stiff broom bristles. Right. He'd been sweeping. Picking up the pieces, so to speak, while Theo dangled from his chest, snug in a sling and happily gurgling at the world moving by.
Kyle turned around. Next up: the mug. One of his, much as there was a his and hers in this here house. They shared almost everything, though the mug with Iron Man in a pinup pose Fi had generally stayed clear of. And, yeah. It stung when he recognised it. A sting not unlike what you'd get when someone drove a finger into an already open wound.
He must've heard wrong, right?
. . .
How had a perfectly ordinary day managed to go so spectacularly sideways?
Kyle's fingers gripped the broom so tight, his hand began to shake. And who the fuck'd ever know what would have happened if not for a knock at the door. Maybe he'd have broken the damn thing in his fist. Or maybe he'd smashed it down on the coffee table, snapping it in half. Or maybe he'd have just thrown his head back and screamed, hoping the pressure that'd begun to build in his chest and pressed upwards would come loose.
Shit.
Kyle swept the last remaining ceramic shards out of the way and threw the broom behind the couch. The knock came around again. Kyle, his thoughts every bit as scattered as the shards he'd been trying to get rid of, turned in an aimless circle.
He knew it wasn't Fi. Fi didn't need to knock. Fi could've just come in and asked him if she'd seen her nasty twin and then they'd have laughed.
No.
Fi did not have a nasty twin.
He'd not crossed into a mirror dimension.
Their fight? Yeah. It'd happened. No amount of wishful thinking and denial was going to change what she'd said.
A frustrated groan riding up his throat, Kyle bumped the door open to reveal a wind-whipped Rahim.
"Neighbours," Rahim said. He wore a rueful expression, which told Kyle how this wasn't a chance visit. Rahim had been sent here, him and his full head of pitch black hair and those thin-rimmed glasses riding on his nose. Plus the picnic bag he carried; the kind that kept food warm.
"What do you want?" Wow. You're on a fucking roll there, moron. Keep insulting everyone around you, why don't you? Kyle clenched his teeth.
Rahim's brows rose ever so slightly. "To feed you two. Sure sounds like you could use a Snickers right about now."
"Yeah. Sure." Kyle sighed, shook his head, and added a grouchy "Sorry," before he finally stepped away from the door to let Rahim in.
. . .
Like anyone had seen an edible Snickers lately.
"And," Rahim added and pulled the door closed behind him. "To keep your company for a few days." His tone was careful, though not in a way that'd tell Kyle he worried about stepping on an eggshell (or, you know, a glass shard, as it so were). No, this was the kind of careful that planted itself and became unmovable and immune to arguments.
Kyle's lips twitched down into a scowl, but rather than react (or watch Rahim as he got out of his shoes and set down the food under the watchful eyes of Miss and Chief), Kyle focused on extracting little Theo from his sling. Then, because he realised he'd been growing a lump in his throat and didn't feel like getting testy with it, he busied himself with putting Theo down in his crib.
Which was all fine and dandy until Kyle's life decided to turn into a cheesy prime-time television novella. He'd bent over to deposit Theo in his blanket nest, his mind buzzing, when, oops, the leather cord he wore around his neck fell from his shirt. The ring attached to it swung lazily below his chin, where it dangled just within Theo's reach.
Theo greeted it with a delighted baby noise and wagged a tiny hand at it.
Kyle swallowed back the lump, tapped Theo gently on the forehead, and slipped the ring back against his aching heart. He'd figure this out, right? He'd figured worse shit out— this? This would be no different. Straightening his spine, Kyle turned around. Rahim had almost finished stacking food containers on the kitchen counter. There were a lot of them, which begged the question where the Rahim fam had scored a bag of holding. More importantly, though: were those Col's honey cakes? The one with the extra (pun intended) buzz?
Kyle's stomach grumbled before quickly folding in on itself when he remembered why Rahim was here.
"Is Fi up at your place?"
Rahim nodded. "Yeah. She came straight up to the cabin. Col took one look at her and sent me packing, said he'd like to keep her over."
Kyle re-swallowed the lump. When'd the fucker come back up?
"She's not doing so hot, Kyle."
The lump turned brittle and caught fire. And, no, Kyle didn't mean to direct it at her; didn't mean to be angry; to be so fucking mad; so confused. "She's not—" Kyle inhaled sharply. "She— Jesus, she almost—" Uncharacteristically short on words, he pointed at where he'd swept up the glass.
"I know what happened." Rahim set down the last box. "It was the first thing out of her mouth when we got the door open for her. And the second. And the third. Shit, Kyle, she kept repeating it over and over. She was freaked as hell."
"Freaked? Yeah? She also tell you what she said before she ran out?"
Rahim stared at him. Kyle, his mouth snapping shut, stared back.
The Rahim Aldemir Kyle had met in Harran had been a kid full of bright-eyed defiance in the face of a shitty fate. The Rahim Aldemir facing him now had stopped being a kid long ago, and his bright-eyed defiance had grown into something steadfast and unshakeable.
"Sit down."
"Look, I—" Kyle sighed. "I know she's struggling, alright? And I'm not— I don't blame her. Postpartum depression is a bitch, I get it. Respectfully, in all ways I could possibly get it, I do. But Theo almost got hurt, Rahim. And the shit she said after?"
Rahim kept on staring. Kyle relented and dragged his confused ass over to the couch. He sunk down.
"She said she can't stand him. Said it straight to my face. And then she goes on about how she didn't want him and how I should go find someone else to play house with? What the fuck am I supposed to do with that?" Kyle folded forward and squeezed the heels of his hands against his eyes. An uncomfortable wet sting sat in them. The lump in his throat reformed.
"She should have told you sooner," Rahim eventually said — and, at first, Kyle didn't catch on to what he meant. It took a while, but when his creaky brain finally connected the dots (with a line so wiggly he thought he'd be sick), it made everything so much worse. "But she thought it'd get better once she had him. Like, she'd see him and she'd get all the right mom feels."
"Hold up." Kyle raised his head just enough to look at Rahim. "She told you?"
"Nnnnyeah. She told Col and he rambles when he's high."
"Great. You and Col knew the mother of my child didn't want it and you didn't think I should know?"
Rahim pressed his lips into a thin line. "Yeah, I think we fucked up."
"Ya think?" Kyle snapped wearily before he dropped his chin back to his chest. He'd deflated like a popped balloon. "Shit. That explains a lot though. I knew something was wrong but I thought… okay, I don't know what I thought. That she's pregnant and grouchy? That she's stepping out on me? That she finally caught on what a dumbass I really am? But not wanting the kid? After we talked it through?"
"She didn't want to disappoint you."
. . .
Oh hello there catastrophy number fivehundred-and-fuck-you. Kyle's heart dug out from under his ribs and hid under the couch. Or that was what it felt like, anyway. Along with a shock of uncomfortable heat clamping around his throat.
He couldn't cobble together two words after that, no matter how much he'd have liked to. And what was there to say anyway?
"I don't know what to do," Kyle finally admitted. He'd lived a lifetime making decisions no one should have ever had to grapple with; a lifetime of deciding not only his own fate but that of those around him, too. And, hey, he'd been good at it. Kind of. Good enough to get him here. Get them here. Alive.
And now he was stumped by a domestic tragedy he couldn't plot around or outmanoeuvre.
"Theo was supposed to make us better, Rahim. Not worse. I figured, hey, a kid! Shit doesn't get more ordinary than that, does it? Like, we're a family now. A proper family, not just a pair of GRE leftovers. We can pretend we're normal, for once." He groaned and scratched at the sides of his head. "And that sounds so fucking stupid now that I say it out loud."
The couch cushions creaked as Rahim settled down by Kyle's side.
"No, it does not sound stupid," Rahim said and dropped a hand on Kyle's shoulder to give it a reassuring squeeze. The lump in Kyle's throat threatened violence. "More importantly though, you don't have to know what to do, alright? Col has a plan and, yeah, we should have told you earlier, but that doesn't mean we can't help now, okay? He's good at this sort of thing."
"I can't— this can't break us," Kyle croaked. "We're gonna be okay, right? Fi and I? Her and Theo?"
"You'll be okay. But it'll take work and it'll take time. Plus, she'll need space. You ready to give her that?"
Kyle nodded.
"Great. Don't worry though." Rahim's hand abandoned the whole reassuring squeeze routine in favour of delivering an energetic slap. "You won't need to Single Dad it."
If he hadn't been so fucking miserable, Kyle would have laughed. Alas, the best he could do was a huff. "You stepping up, huh?"
"Yep. I'll be subbing as Mom for as long as Col needs me out of the house. He called it practice and I don't know how to feel about that."
This time, Kyle did manage a laugh. It was brief, wilted, and honestly a little sad, but where there was a laugh, there was hope.
Hope that they would be okay.
Hope that, in the end, they'd figure this out, too.