“No way to tell,” Jay said. “We couldn’t exactly question it.”

  “We make smoke, burning wood in the furnace,” Matt said. “That can be seen all over the island. If they know that’s a sign of humans, would they follow that?”

  “Good question, Matthew,” Crawford said. “How much they seek out human prey, and how much they randomly roam about and happen on it, is unclear to me. You said they were inside those buildings at the Norwegian camp, so do they understand buildings mean humans?”

  “Whatever notion this one had in its head, it’s gone,” R.J. said. “We kept on surveying after that. Covered the whole island. There are no more. But we did find how the three stooges got here. A boat.”

  That stirred everyone up. People started asking about the size of the boat. Matt suspected what the answer would be, though.

  “I mean we found the wreckage of a boat,” R.J. clarified. “Scattered across a beach on the northwest coast. We couldn’t check it out on the ground today because the beach is covered in walruses, and it’s calving season. The moms can be tetchy.”

  “I bet it was that storm last week that threw it there,” Jay said. “The guys aboard were already zombies and climbed out to go looking for someone to bite.”

  “What if there are still zombies stuck inside the wreckage?” Stav asked. A sobering question.

  “We’ll have to go back to check it out,” R.J. said. “See what we can salvage. We’ll have to be careful of the walruses, that’s all. We’ll make a trip with the ATVs tomorrow.”

  The room went quiet. Only sounds from Hope broke the silence. Vicky shushed and rocked her, then spoke softly. “I thought we were safe here. That none of that…that filth and death could touch us.” Her voice caught. Kasper put his arm around her, and she rested her head on his shoulder.

  Had she planned to stay here forever, Matt wondered. Inuit people had lived on this island in the past, living on the meat of the caribou. Burning dried dung for fuel. With this base, the group had an even better chance of making a life here than those people who’d left decades ago. But it was a dead end. Even if this group had several children, and those children had children, it was only a couple of generations before that wasn’t viable. They didn’t have a large enough base to start from to have enough genetic variability to form a…a colony. It was simple math. Also, they didn’t have the building materials to make more habitations. This island was a temporary refuge. They had to leave one day. They had to face what was ashore.

  “Maybe we should keep a watch at night,” Crawford suggested. “At least until we’ve checked that boat out. If there are more still trapped aboard, they might get out anytime. And if this had happened once, it could happen again.” She waved a hand generally southward. “We have a beach only half a mile that way. If a boat washed up there with something nasty aboard, it could be on us in an hour.”

  “Good idea,” R.J. said. “And we need to be stricter about securing the doors, especially at night. We’ve become careless about locking them. But it’s time we got back into the habit of checking them every night. Because of the bears, if nothing else.”

  “I’d certainly hate to wake up with Frodo by my bed looking for his breakfast,” Matt said.

  “The male’s up at the north shore,” R.J. said. He never called the bears by the names the younger members of the party had given them. “The female is over on the west, a little north of the halfway point.” But the bears roamed widely. If all the seals, or whatever they were eating, wised up and moved on, the bears would go looking for a new food source. The base would be like the food court of a mall to them.

  “I’ll take the watch tonight,” Matt said. “I’ve been sleeping in the day anyway, and not doing any chores. I could pull an all-nighter easy.”

  “We should split it,” R.J. suggested. “I’ll relieve you tonight for the second watch. We’ll work out a proper schedule tomorrow. Now, let’s eat.”

  He sounded enthusiastic for his dinner, but the others were mostly subdued, and those not making the dinner sat waiting in the rec room, quiet and sober. Some got their journals out and started to write. Vicky and Kasper sat still in each other’s arms, their baby on Vicky’s lap, Kasper stroking her hair as she slept.

  I thought we were safe here.

  Matt heard Vicky’s words in his mind again.

  No. They were not safe. Not anywhere.

  * * * *

  Matt went around with R.J. at bedtime. The generator was off for the night, and R.J carried an electric lantern, though dim emergency lights gave enough illumination to see the way up and down the central corridor, at least.

  “Lock the outer and the inner doors,” R.J. said. All the doors to the outside, bar the one from the kitchen, had a second inner door. Best practice was never to have both open at once, so the cold air couldn’t get in and the warm air couldn’t get out. “Don’t forget the one into the drying room.” That had an entrance between the inner and outer doors of the main entrance, as well as one that led from the central corridor. Something coming in the main door and slipping through that long, narrow room would come out right at the heart of the station.

  “The interior doors are pretty flimsy,” Matt said. They might keep out drafts, but he could splinter one with a shoulder charge easily. Did zombies shoulder charge things? “The bears would knock them down no problem.”

  “Better safe than sorry,” R.J. said. “But that’s why it’s so important to lock the outer ones.” He shot big bolts across the southwest door that they were standing beside. They moved along. R.J. glanced back at Matt on his crutches. “You sure you’re up for this? Maybe you should wait to take a turn until you’re back on your feet.”

  “I can manage,” Matt promised. “Besides, I think Stav might be taking advantage of having the bunk room to himself for a few hours.” He’d seen Chandra go in there when everyone retired. And the knob of the bunk room door currently sported the Sock of Discretion, as Matt had dubbed it. Generally that only signaled someone was changing and possibly naked, so people should knock first. But there were other times they might be naked. Matt grinned. R.J. didn’t answer. Went a bit thin-lipped. Stav better be careful to treat that girl right, or R.J. and probably Dr. Crawford too would go all in loco parentis on his ass. Emphasis on the loco.

  “Okay. Come get me at four,” R.J. said. He took the lantern with him, since Matt couldn’t carry it anyway.

  Matt waited there in the corridor for a few minutes to let his eyes adapt fully. In the darkness sound came through clearer. The wind. Always the wind, howling and whistling. And the distant roar of the sea, at least when the wind blew from the south and brought the sound with it. Inside the base he heard the muffled sound of a voice or a snore as people settled or already slept. A laugh. Louise.

  Footsteps. His head snapped up. Coming from the north end. Past the bedroom area. He made his way there and, as he got closer, saw the faint glow of a lantern through the slightly ajar door into the infirmary.

  “Peter?” he said softly. He pushed at the door. Peter sat at his desk, a lantern at his side, writing in a journal. He looked up and smiled at Matt.

  “On patrol?”

  “I don’t think actual patrolling was mentioned,” Matt said. Though he’d probably go around and do an hourly check. “Can I…” He nodded at the chair by the desk.

  “Go ahead. How’s your ankle feeling?”

  “Pretty good,” Matt said. “And the ribs are fine. But my hands are not doing so good.” He sat, rested his crutches against the desk, and held up hands rubbed raw, palms blistered.

  “You should have said,” Peter said. “Hold on.” He went and searched in the unlocked parts of the drug cabinet and came back with a tube of cream. He sat on the edge of the desk and took one of Matt’s hands at a time. The hands rested against Peter’s leg as Peter uncapped the cream. The temptation to turn the hand over and stroke the lean, hard thigh was strong. But Matt resisted it. Peter picked the hand up and rubbed in the cream. Then he did the other one.

  Despite the pain from the injured skin, Matt’s body responded to the touch, flushing. His mouth went dry. Peter finished the cream and taped a couple of dressings over the palms. He washed his hands in the sink, then sat behind his desk again. He closed his journal and put it aside.

  “I won’t keep you up,” Matt said, moving to stand. Peter raised a hand.

  “Please. Stay. We should talk. The…the other night.” He paused for a long time. “The kiss.”

  “I know. It can’t happen again and all that.”

  “No. I was…shaken. You being hurt. That there were zombies here on the island, when for so long we thought we were safe.”

  Vicky had said that, and Matt had thought she wanted to stay here forever. Peter couldn’t want the same, though. He wanted to be with his husband. That couldn’t happen if he stayed here. Unless… Shit. Matt got it. He didn’t know where Harrison was. He almost certainly wasn’t at their home. But Harrison knew where Peter was. Peter wasn’t staying here only because it was—in theory—safe from zombies. He was waiting here for Harrison to come find him.

  Matt looked at the shutters over the window, imagining looking out in the light one day and seeing people approaching, coming from a ship or a plane. Walking right up and knocking on the door. Peter throwing himself into the arms of Harrison. He felt sick.

  The light that leaked around the edge of the shutters had a green tinge, and Matt knew why. He stood and got across there with only one crutch. He opened the shutters and was bathed at once in a spooky green light.

  “Holy cow,” he muttered, forgetting all thoughts of Peter’s husband walking up and knocking at the door one day. Ribbons and curtains of green light danced across the sky. It rippled like silk and dripped like paint.

  “The aurora?” Peter asked.

  “It’s spectacular tonight. You have to see it.” In a moment, Peter stood beside him, arm pressed against his as they shared the space in front of the window.

  “Yes,” Peter said softly. “Spectacular.”

  “No wonder the atmosphere feels so charged this evening,” Matt said, with no scientific justification. Peter clicked his tongue in disapproval but smiled, without looking at Matt. Matt turned from him and looked at the sky again. They stood in silence for a long time, watching. How could they stop? How could they turn away before the dawn came and the light show faded? How did you look away from such beauty?

  Perhaps by looking at another beautiful thing. Matt turned to look at Peter, face upraised to the sky, eyes wide and full of wonder. The spooky light flickered over his dark skin, giving it green-edged highlights. Almost like he was under the sea.

  “There are some compensations for being stuck here,” Peter said.

  “Yes,” Matt replied, barely above a whisper. Peter turned, catching him staring. But Matt couldn’t look away. Beauty was magnetic. Just like the aurora. He held Peter’s gaze. Made no move, said nothing. Put it all in his face, in his eyes. The invitation. The plea.

  Peter didn’t turn away. He might have been hypnotized by Matt’s gaze. Maybe only the dawn would break them from what Matt feared was becoming a staring contest. But a moment later, to his thrilled delight, Peter reached up and slid his hand around the back of Matt’s head. He leaned close. Matt tilted his head to the side to give room for their noses when their lips touched. Matt turned as Peter did the same so they were chest to chest. Their lips never parted as they moved. Peter touched Matt’s tongue with his, and Matt shivered with delight. Yes. This was better than the first. The first had been born of shock and fear. This kiss Peter had thought about.

  It ended after about a century, and still too soon for Matt. Peter pulled back. Not hard, not fast and guiltily. But it ended. Matt moaned softly, shifting to try to get his cock more comfortable as it grew. But despite all his hopes, he knew this would go no further tonight. Peter wore a thoughtful expression, questioning everything, Matt wanted to believe. But Matt didn’t want to push and scare him off. He let Peter make the choice. Peter chose to step back, out of Matt’s arms. He closed the shutters and turned back to Matt.

  “That…was…”

  “Don’t say wrong,” Matt said. “I couldn’t stand it if you said it was wrong.”

  “I won’t. But I have to think about this. I can’t ignore my feelings, so I have to decide what I want to do about them. I’m sorry if you think I’m stringing you along.”

  Matt forced himself to affect nonchalance. He even shrugged. “Take your time. Time is all we have here.”

  “I’d better go to bed. And you need to continue your watch.”

  “Oh yes.” Matt had responsibilities. Time to remember that. He hobbled back to the desk and got his other crutch. “I’ll see you in the morning, then. Leave the lamp on for me until I find my way back out.”

  Peter frowned at him. “You don’t have a lantern or flashlight?”

  “Look, Doc, no hands,” Matt said, waving his bandaged hands.

  “Wait a moment, then.” Peter took his lantern and rummaged in a drawer. He came back with what looked like a bicycle lamp on an elastic strap.

  Matt had seen Peter use it before when examining people. He took it, put the band around his head, the headlamp to the front, and turned it on. Peter turned away, raising a hand to ward off the light in his eyes.

  “Sorry,” Matt said. “And thanks.”

  “Be careful,” Peter said. “Don’t trip and fall and make that ankle worse.”

  “I won’t.” Matt headed for the door. As he reached it, Peter spoke his name, and Matt turned.

  “Thank you for sharing the aurora with me.”

  Chapter Nine

  Matt didn’t appear at breakfast the next morning. He must be sleeping late after his night watch. Peter made sure something was put aside for him for when he got up. R.J. was still up. A four a.m. start was no big deal for him.

  “I’m going to head out to the wrecked boat right after breakfast,” R.J. said. “I’d like Stav and Kasper to come with me. You guys up for it?”

  “Need one more?” Peter asked. R.J. looked surprised.

  “Not sure that’s a good idea, Doc. You’re too valuable to us to go dodging walruses and whatever else we find out there.”

  “I’ll do exactly as you order me,” Peter promised. Which was only smart, after all, since R.J. knew best about staying alive in hostile places. “But I could use some fresh air. And it’s always possible we could find a casualty aboard that boat. Someone who managed to barricade themselves away from the zombies.”

  “You’ve got quite the imagination,” R.J. said with a chuckle. “Okay,” he agreed after a moment. “You’re in.”

  “Hmm, an all-boys trip, eh?” Louise asked.

  “Yeah. We’re gonna stop off at a sports bar on the way back,” R.J. said, making her laugh. He put down his tea mug. “Leaving in thirty minutes. Be in the west yard or be left behind.”

  A few minutes later, Peter came out of his room wearing extra layers as Louise arrived in the infirmary.

  “Could you inventory the drug cabinet while I’m gone, please?” He handed her the key from the chain around his neck. “Put anything expired to one side, and I’ll check it out later.” Some things he’d dare to use after the expiration date, but some he wouldn’t.

  “You got it,” Louise said. “And when Matt gets his arse out of bed, I think we need to do some studying.”

  “Good idea. I don’t think I’ve given you any surprise tests for a while, have I?”

  “Me and my big mouth,” she muttered. “No, boss, you haven’t.”

  “Then if I were you and Matt, I’d be ready and waiting for one anytime.”

  “That’s not much of a surprise.”

  “So what do you want? For me to dress as a cardinal and jump out at you?”

  “Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition!”

  “My chief weapon is surprise. See you later this afternoon.”

  He left her to it, collected and put on his outerwear, feeling as if he could barely lower his arms to his sides in the bulky parka. He went through the workshop and into the high-roofed space where the helicopter lived, alongside the ATVs. The ATVs were already outside. In the yard he found R.J. and Stav warming them up. Kasper was hooking the trailers to both bikes.

  “Heads up, Lane.” As Peter approached, R.J. tossed him a rifle. Peter caught it. “You’ll ride with me. I’ll drive. You take shotgun. Suit you?”

  “Suits me,” Peter said. He checked the rifle. Loaded and ready. To think back home he’d argued until he was out of breath to get guns out of circulation, after losing too many people in the ER because of them. Only a month before Peter left for summer at the Shriver Island base, he and Harrison had broken down and cried in each other’s arms after an especially harrowing day involving three kids and their mother, shot by the father. Then the world ended, and suddenly a gun was even a doctor’s best friend.

  He climbed on the ATV behind R.J. when they were all ready, and the two bikes set out, dragging the trailers behind them.

  * * * *

  It took a couple of hours to reach the beach where the boat had wrecked. When they found it, any thoughts Peter had been having about it being salvageable vanished. It was a large boat, of the type that had once traveled around the bay delivering supplies to islands and remote coastal towns. The whole of the bow had been sheared off and lay in pieces all over the beach. The rest of the boat was on its side, making a sort of wooden cave with the great gaping hole where the front of the boat had come off. Water lapped around the stern, which still lay in the water. A high tide or storm would pull it back out to sea to sink. They had to get what they could from it before then.

  First, though, the walruses. Farther down the beach, the sand was thick with them, many of them calves, but they were a bit thinner on the ground near the boat. R.J. wasn’t taking any chances. He picked a bag off the ATV’s cargo rack. It rattled and clattered. He handed out “rattles” they’d made by the simple expedient of half filling some cleaned-out food cans with stones and a few old nuts and bolts. The noisemakers were good for warning off animals when they were out and about.