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I don’t know what that means, but the man holding the gun to my head clearly does. He holsters it again without a word.

The one in charge continues, “You are either alone or you’re with people who don’t give a damn about you. Either way, you’ll be better off with us.”

“What?” I almost choke on the word, so surprised am I.

“You can stay here. On your own or with people who will let you die. Or you can come with us.”

“Come with you how?”

“Like everyone else who joins up with us. If you’ve stayed alive this long, you’re obviously capable. You’ll contribute in any way you can. ”

“I’m not going to fuck you. Or any of the rest of them.”

“You won’t be asked or expected to. Not with my people.”

For some reason, I believe him, although in the hellscape this world has become, it’s implausible that a woman joining a group of so many men wouldn’t be expected or forced to offer herself sexually.

I’m not particularly beautiful or sexy, but I had a decent amount of male attention in high school and college.

I have long, straight, dark hair, tan skin, and hazel eyes.

I’ve always been smaller than average, but I used to have noticeable curves at the hips and breasts.

But those were the first things to go when food got scarce, so now I’m pretty scrawny.

Hal didn’t care. We’re from the same hometown but only got together in college. We stayed together until he died a few months ago. He always said I’m beautiful and acted as though he believed it. But that was because he loved me.

A stranger isn’t likely to find much about me that’s appealing at the moment, but that doesn’t matter. A lot of men now will take a woman—no matter her age or appearance—simply because he can.

“You can ask Burgundy.” The main man nods toward a very pretty woman who appears around my age. She’s standing next to a man who looks enough like her that he’s got to be her brother. She meets my eyes and nods.

If it wasn’t for that one gesture, I’m not sure what I would do. It’s a risk. Such a huge risk. I’ve survived this long on my own. I could probably manage to keep doing it.

But I’m constantly scared. Constantly angry. Constantly hungry. And I don’t want to stay that way for the rest of my life.

Hooking up with this group might not be any better, but it’s not likely to be much worse.

And at least it will be different.

I lick my dry lips. “Okay. I’ll help however I can, but I’m not fucking anyone.”

“Understood. I’m Logan. You can meet the rest of us along the way.”

I tug on my braid, but Bigfoot won’t loosen his grip.

“Let her go, Deck,” Logan says in a crisp tone.

Bigfoot—definitely named Deck—finally lets me go. I whirl around to face him, and we scowl at each other.

He’s manhandled me, lifted me off my feet, grabbed my shirt, grabbed my braid, and held a gun to my head. I don’t like him at all, and I hope I won’t have to exist in close quarters with him.

Without a word, he moves to the back of the Jeep and returns the food I stole to its place. Then he returns and thrusts my bag at me, still scowling slightly.

I take it since it’s one of my few remaining possessions. “You don’t have to be an asshole about it.”

He just scowls some more.

“Deck doesn’t speak,” Logan says, evidently noticing the brief byplay.

“What?” I look from Deck to Logan and back. “What do you mean? ”

“He doesn’t speak. At all.”

I had a cousin who was deaf, so I learned enough American Sign Language to communicate with her. Without thinking, I sign and mouth out the words, “Are you deaf?” to Deck.

His scowl lessens, and he gives his head a brief shake.

“He can hear,” Logan tells me. “He just doesn’t speak. He used to. He worked for me before Impact. But he hasn’t said a word in almost two years. If you get nervous, stick close to him. He’ll take care of you.”

I’m wise enough not to say so, but that’s definitely not going to happen. I’m curious about Deck now. I want to know what job he used to perform for Logan. I want to know why he stopped speaking. I want to know if it’s an emotional block or if it’s an intentional choice.

But I still don’t like him, and I don’t trust him. I’m definitely not going to cling to his shirttails no matter how scared I get.

“Grab any of your stuff you want. We’re heading out in five minutes.” Logan speaks the last sentence loudly, evidently as a warning to the whole group.

I duck into my hiding spot and put my clothes in my bag with the remaining cans of food and the least worn blanket and towel. Then I straighten up, jerking in surprise when I discover Deck is standing right behind me.

“Why are you hovering like that?” I snap before I remember I really need to start playing nice if I’m going to make a place for myself in this group.

Deck isn’t scowling now, but his expression is utterly sober beneath his beard. He nods toward Logan, who is standing next to the front Jeep and having a discussion with Burgundy and the man I assume is her brother.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” I mumble, instinctively understanding the small gesture as clearly as if he spoke words. “Logan told you to watch out for me, didn’t he?”

Deck inclines his head in a nod. He’s got brown eyes—lighter than the brown eyes I normally see.

“I don’t need watching out for. I can take care of myself.”

He shrugs, his body and his expression completely unmoving.

I let out a sigh that comes out almost as a groan. “Fine. You do what you have to do. But give me a little space, okay? I don’t like being crowded.”

He takes one small step backward. Then gives me a speaking look, cocking his head just slightly.

I almost—almost—laugh.

“Great.” I hook the strap of my bag on one shoulder and start walking toward the line of vehicles. “What the hell have I gotten myself into?”

Deck ignores the question, exactly as I expected.

He gives me a little push to get me moving faster.

When he lowers the tailgate of the truck and waves me in, I climb up obediently, moving out of the way when he steps up after me and moves into the guarding position he was in when the caravan stopped.

After a minute, Burgundy and her brother end their conversation with Logan and climb into the back of the pickup with me and Deck .

Burgundy gives me a little smile and lowers herself to a kneeling position in one corner. I do the same since it appears much more secure than trying to stand in a moving vehicle like Deck.

It doesn’t take long before Logan’s Jeep at the front of the line starts moving.

And that’s it. I’m leaving behind the Walmart, my hiding place, and the life I had before.