Page 12

Four weeks later, I’m riding behind Micah on an ATV and trying to get the flyaways from my braided ponytail to fly in the proper direction and not right across my face.

“What are you doing back there, girl?” Micah asks after a minute of my whipping my head weirdly back and forth to maneuver my hair without letting go of Micah’s firm body.

“Hair in my face,” I explain. “It needs to stay on the proper sides of my head, but it’s not cooperating.”

Micah chuckles and speeds up slightly to keep pace with Deck on a second ATV in front of us.

This morning, when we started off, I suggested riding with Micah because he’s not as big as Deck so there would be more room for me. It made sense, and no one objected. But the sharp look Deck aimed at me made it clear he knew I chose Micah so I wouldn’t have to be so close to him .

The past month hasn’t been a bad one. We’ve been able to stay at the house the whole time since there were so many provisions stocked up there, and I’ve felt relatively secure—which hasn’t been true since Impact.

My relationship with Deck isn’t like it used to be, but it’s not bad between us.

We still get along. We still help each other out.

He still sleeps on the bunk above me every night.

I’ve managed to control my sexy thoughts better, so I haven’t had to take the edge off again like I did that one night.

And I’m still teaching him sign language, although he only ever uses it with me.

But I always feel a little awkward about being too physically close to him, which is why I chose Micah to ride with today.

Micah is tall and strong, but he’s not as bulky as Deck. He’s good-looking and good-natured, and I like him better than anyone except Deck and Burgundy.

And it’s not troublesome to sit this closely behind him as we ride, wrapping my arms around his lean waist and occasionally pressing my face against his back.

I like him. He treats me like a sister, and I’m sure that’s how he views me.

It’s nice to feel close to someone in an entirely safe way.

Deck waves an arm, gesturing toward the right when the backwoods road we’re driving on forks. Micah follows, and about five minutes later we’re parking behind an abandoned drugstore.

One of the other guys found it yesterday on a scouting trip but didn’t have time to check it out for more than a minute since it was getting dark at that point.

But he said there looked to be a lot to scavenge there, so the three of us have driven out this morning to collect anything useful we can find.

I’m stiff when Micah turns off the engine, so I stretch my back before I dismount. By the time I’ve done that, Deck has come over, extending a hand to help me as I swing my leg over the seat and straighten up.

I don’t pull my hand away even though the warmth of his big, strong grip sends little tremors through my body. If I jerk away from him, he’ll get all frustrated and upset and might start demanding answers again.

Things work better if we let that topic lie neglected.

Deck drops my hand before I start enjoying it too much. When Micah stands, I pull my small pistol out while the men get their rifles at the ready.

This region appears to be mostly deserted. Most people fled to the center of the country to avoid the flooding and earthquakes that ravaged both coasts. We’re kind of in no-man’s-land here in what used to be western Kentucky.

We’ve parked in what was the back of the freestanding building, so we walk the perimeter to the front. When we reach it, all three of us freeze.

We’re not alone.

There’s an old pickup parked at an angle right near the door, and behind the truck bed is someone clearly at a guard post .

It’s not a man though. It’s a very small, very pretty young woman—girl?—with dark hair and an oversized man’s T-shirt.

“Cal!” she calls out sharply, stiffening and aiming at us as soon as we move into sight.

Deck’s already aiming at her, and Micah shifts quickly to the right when a big man comes out of the opening where the glass doors of the store used to be, pointing a shotgun at us.

The man is almost as large as Deck, but he’s older with a tough, intimidating face. He looks dangerous. Like the kind of person who shoots first and asks questions later.

So I call out quickly, “We mean no harm! We’re just passing through.”

The man peers from me to Micah to Deck and leaves his shotgun trained on Deck. “If that’s true, then get the fuck out of here. We were here first.”

The young woman—who is definitely younger than me and probably still a teenager—adds, “We won’t shoot unless you make us.”

I believe she means what she’s saying, but I’m not sure the man necessarily agrees. I’m so scared I’m almost shaking from it. I trust Deck and Micah. They’re not going to kill innocent people who are simply trying to stay alive.

But that man… he looks like he’s cut from a different cloth.

“Right, Cal?” the girl adds. She’s got a straightforward manner—like not much fazes her—and her tone is slightly impatient. She must have had long experience trying to rein her companion in .

Cal makes a growling sound. “I’ll stop aimin’ at them when they stop aimin’ at you.”

Deck is tightly on guard. I can feel the tension vibrating through him even through the distance between us. He shifts his stance to point his rifle at Cal instead.

“I don’t think any of us wants to shoot,” I say, searching for something to say to defuse this situation.

“Why don’t we back away and leave y’all alone?

” I glance over at Deck, who gives me a quick nod without looking away from Cal.

Encouraged by his agreement, I add, “You get anything you want out of here, and we’ll come back later after you’re done. ”

“That sounds good,” the girl says, looking over at Cal as if waiting for him to agree too.

“So get the fuck out of here,” Cal bites out.

Deck, Micah, and I all move backward, still pointing our guns as we retreat.

“You show your face again, I’ll blow your head off,” Cal calls out when we’re almost out of sight.

I groan in relief when we’ve moved behind the building and I can holster my pistol and relax my stance.

“Shit, that was close,” Micah mutters, strapping his rifle back on his back so he can straddle the seat of his ATV. “I thought we were dead for sure. Good going, Lilah.”

I flush at the compliment, but I’m shaking helplessly from the aftermath of the crisis. Before I can move over to get on the seat behind Micah, Deck puts an arm around me and moves me over to his.

I’m too weak to object. I don’t even want to. What I really want to do is wrap my arms around Deck and never let go. No one has ever made me feel as safe as he does.

When I’ve climbed on the ATV behind him, I hold on tight, and the three of us drive away.

We wait in the woods for most of the day until we see the pickup truck leave the old drugstore.

By then it’s late afternoon. The sun is halfway down its route in the western sky. But we came all this way, and if we don’t bring back any scavengeable items, then all the time and gas will have been wasted.

So we spend a few hours searching what remains of the store.

The exterior and roof are intact, but inside is a ruined mess with toppled shelves, crumbling interior walls, piles of crushed and useless supplies, and unpleasant evidence that wildlife has been setting up shop in the building for the past two years.

If there was any canned food or medication remaining, Cal and the girl cleaned it out earlier today. All three of us root around, Deck and Micah lifting heavy shelves and me squeezing into tight corners, but our search isn’t as productive as we were hoping.

We find some only slightly damaged plastic products that we can use—old summer-themed tumblers, resealable baggies, and disposable utensils—plus a sleeping bag and a few battery-operated lanterns from what must have been a small camping section.

But it’s not until Deck and Micah together lift an enormous shelf that we find anything valuable enough to make the trip worth it.

First aid supplies and bottles of pain reliever were preserved in near-perfect condition by the shelter of the rubble. Cal probably couldn’t lift that shelf on his own, which is the only reason the treasures still remain for us to uncover.

We fill our bags with Advil, aspirin, Tylenol, Band-Aids, antibiotic cream, self-adhering athletic wrap, and hydrogen peroxide.

When we have no more room in our bags and there’s still more to be had, I find a water-logged box of black garbage bags and detach a few from the middle of the roll where they were protected.

After the garbage bags are filled, we take all our loot back to the ATVs and have trouble figuring out a way to carry it all with us.

“Shoulda taken a truck,” Micah mutters as we work on strapping bags onto the back of his vehicle.

“I think we can get it all,” I say, hoping these garbage bags are indeed as hefty as advertised. When I see Deck frowning at the lowering sun at the horizon, I add, “It’s going to be dark in an hour, so we need to get going.”

Since we strapped more of the bags onto Micah’s ATV, I climb on behind Deck. But as soon as he turns the ignition, the engine makes a puttering sound and a loud clack.

“Shit,” I mutter as Deck’s body tenses up. I can feel it acutely because my chest is pressing against his back.

Micah puts his ATV back into park and gets off so that he and Deck can peer in at the engine of the second one. Both men have basic, utilitarian knowledge of mechanics, but whatever is wrong with this engine doesn’t easily reveal itself.

I have no experience with fixing vehicles at all, so I stand back with my arms crossed over my chest, stewing as I watch the sun get lower and lower.

Even in a large group, it’s not safe to travel at night. There are far too many criminal types around who do their worst in the dark. Not to mention desperate animals who are too hungry to follow their natural instincts of reserve and retreat.

This is not good.

Not good at all.

“Shit,” Micah says, stepping back and wiping sweat off his forehead with the back of his forearm. “We’re fucked.”

Deck glances back at the sunset—mostly gray with just a slight tinge of pink—and points toward Micah before he signs “go home” with his hands.

“Yeah,” I say, nodding at him. “He’s saying you need to drive home now. Take those supplies with you and head back as quick as you can. Then tomorrow morning, someone can come get me and Deck.”

“Y’all can’t stay here on your own.” Micah looks around dubiously at the darkening forest. “It’s too dangerous.”

Deck signs again, gesturing toward me.

“No.” I narrow my eyes at him. “I’m not going with Micah.

I won’t fit with all the supplies, and you can’t stay here on your own.

It’s dangerous enough with two people. On your own is an absolute no.

We can hole up in the building and take turns staying on guard.

” I turn again toward Micah. “Just get back here as early as you can tomorrow morning.”

I’m not thrilled about spending the night in an unknown and insecure location, but Hal and I managed for a long time doing exactly that. It’s better than any other option we have available.

And there’s no way in hell I’m leaving Deck to his own devices when there’s a good chance we would come back tomorrow morning to find him dead.

Or not find him at all, which would be even worse.

Deck scowls at me but doesn’t argue further, so Micah helps us find a defensible corner of the building, assures himself we’ll be okay, and then takes off into the evening with promises that they’ll leave at dawn tomorrow to rescue us.

Micah’s trip alone will be almost as dangerous as our night holed up here, but at least on the ATV he’ll have a good chance of outrunning any predators.

Deck and I go to the bathroom before we settle on the floor in the corner. There’s a minefield of litter between us and the entrance, so we’ll hear if anyone or anything approaches. We both have our guns at the ready.

We should be okay.

We eat the last of the jerky and bread we brought with us, and then I walk several feet and lean down to grab a small item where I’d seen a flash of red earlier.

It’s a bag of Skittles. Untorn, uncrushed, and unopened. The bag is dirty, but the candy is still clean and in good condition, so Deck and I split it, sitting side by side against the wall with our legs extended.

It’s sweet and slightly tart and tastes strongly artificial. But good. Familiar.

For some reason the taste of it makes me want to cry.

I don’t make a sound or twist my features or sniffle or anything, but Deck still senses my mood. He wraps an arm around me and pulls me to lean against his big body. I huddle against his side, comforted.

I should know better than to fall asleep, but I do anyway. When I wake up, it’s pitch-dark and I’m aware of nothing but the scent and heat of Deck’s body. My head is on his lap. His fingers are idly stroking my head and down my ponytail.

“Sorry,” I say when I’m conscious enough to realize what happened. “I’m supposed to be keeping guard with you.”

I start to sit up, but he puts a hand on my head to stop me. I don’t resist because I’m exhausted, and it feels weirdly good to lie like this.

Like he’s protecting me.

It’s been such a long time since I’ve felt that way.

It’s far too dark to see his face, so I find one of his hands and bring it down so I can feel any signs he makes with his fingers.

“Has it been quiet the whole time?” I ask softly.

He gestures yes .

“If you need to sleep, I can stay awake for a while and keep guard.”

No .

“It’s really okay. I don’t deserve special treatment.”

Yes. You do.

I smile, my chest aching intensely. I squeeze his hand.

After a minute, he gently retrieves it and strokes my hair again.

It’s not long until I fall back to sleep.