Page 14 of Tower (Post-Apocalyptic Fairy Tales #1)

I’m on a high the following morning.

I do an abbreviated yoga session first thing since Levi and I want to get an early start. Then I hum an old pop song as I make Levi’s eggs and toast, having to explain to three different people why I’m in a good mood.

After we eat a quick breakfast, we hit the road in my dad’s old truck, which still has a full tank of gas because he always kept it topped off.

It still has a working CD player installed, so I dig out a case of ancient CDs my dad kept behind the seats.

After picking out my favorite of the limited selection—a laid-back female country singer I’ve liked since I was a child—I put it in and sing along to all the songs as we drive.

Levi doesn’t say much, but I catch him looking over at me more than once with a smile in his eyes, so I don’t think my exuberance is annoying him too much.

I have a really good time.

I haven’t been outside the walls they built around our town after Impact for more than three years. When things started getting chaotic after the asteroid’s approach was announced, my parents kept me in the house, and that never changed even as everything else did.

Levi’s been doing the same thing. Keeping me sheltered. Keeping me safe. Keeping me away from a dangerous world. A princess locked in a tower. I understand and appreciate the reasoning, but it genuinely feels like I’ve been freed from a prison cell this morning.

Everything outside looks different than it used to.

The climate damage from the asteroid impact has decimated a landscape that used to be fully green.

Green grass. Green foliage. Green crops growing in the fields.

Green leaves on every tree. Along with the blue sky, the greenness always used to define my understanding of nature in this region.

Almost nothing is green anymore.

Most of the trees are struggling without as much sunlight because of the layer of dust in the atmosphere, so the leaves are at best a greenish, gray brown.

The grass keeps trying, but it’s brown or yellow as often as it’s green.

Ugly weeds are the only growing thing that’s thriving lately.

Most of the nearby farms were decimated by the weather changes.

Only the Nelsons have had much luck, and even their crops fail as often as they succeed.

Wildlife has been equally depleted. Animals who rely on vegetation have found very little to live on lately, and carnivores that rely on those other animals for prey have had just as hard a time. The only farm animals it’s been semi-easy to keep alive are pigs and chickens.

Scavengers have fared the best. There are always plenty of dead bodies around.

When the news was still broadcasting, the scientists all said that eventually the dust will clear and the planet will come back to life. But it’s been over three years, and the natural world is still suffering.

So are all of us who’ve survived this long.

But even driving through a bleak, unfamiliar landscape on back roads with crumbling pavement is better than being forever stuck in a tower.

So I have a good time on the drive, and Levi seems to too.

We’ve been heading south. After about two hours, Levi points to a broken road sign so faded it’s almost unreadable now. “Passin’ into Kentucky now.”

It’s funny. I haven’t really thought about different states for a long time. But I’ve always lived in southern Indiana, and I guess I still do. Now we’re in Kentucky, and it’s entirely meaningless.

We drive for another hour and a half at a decent speed, considering the condition of the roads and the fact that we stop several times to check out abandoned houses and cars to see if there’s any gas to siphon or food and supplies to scavenge.

When we turn off the road we’ve been following, however, Levi slows down. He’s going only by verbal directions from the folks he and the guys ran across a few days ago, so he doesn’t know exactly where the farm is.

We find it forty minutes later. It’s surrounded by a makeshift wall, like every other inhabited community nowadays. Before we get to the front gate, one of the guards fires a shot.

I’m not expecting it, so I overreact. I gasp and duck my head into my lap.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Levi says, reaching over to stroke my hair down my back. “That was just a warnin’. Shoulda told you most folks do that now. I’m gonna park and get out to talk to ’em so they know we’re harmless.”

“What if they shoot you?” I wasn’t expecting to be this scared, but I am.

“Don’t think they will. Leavin’ my weapons here. But take this.” He hands me the small pistol he keeps in an ankle holster when he’s on the road. “Just in case.”

I nod and handle the gun. My dad taught me how to use them, so at least I’m not totally clueless.

He nods at me and reaches for the door handle. Then he turns back, like he’s had second thoughts. He leans over and gives me a quick kiss just to the side of the mouth before he gets out of the truck for real.

I raise my fingers to the spot where he kissed me.

He’s never done that before.

He keeps his hands raised as he approaches the gate. Then he has a short conversation with the guards there. I don’t know what is said because I can only hear muffled voices, but soon Levi starts back toward the pickup truck.

With him comes another man after he climbed down from the guard perch.

He’s a lot younger than Levi. Maybe even around my age. He’s tall with good shoulders and strong arms. His wavy hair is dark—too long and wildly disarrayed. He’s got tanned skin and a brisk, competent manner.

He gives me only a quick nod as he opens the driver’s side door and studies the interior of the cab.

Levi has come around to my side. “It’s all good,” he tells me. “Jack’s one of the guys I met a few days ago. He’s just searchin’ to make sure we are who we say we are before he lets us drive in.”

“Okay. Do you want me to get out?” I look from Levi to Jack, asking both or either of them.

“You’re good,” Jack says. “As long as you don’t mind me leaning over you to check under your seat.”

“Of course I don’t mind.” I lift my legs, wishing I’d worn pants today instead of my shorts. There’s a lot of my bare legs inches from Jack’s face as he leans over.

But he doesn’t leer or even take an extra look at them. In just a minute, he’s okayed the cab and moved to check the truck bed.

“Okay,” he calls to Levi when he’s done. “We’ll open the gate, and you can pull in.”

The farm is surprisingly pleasant and productive. I’m really impressed with the planted fields, animals, and equipment. The man in charge is older, and he has a daughter named Faith with pretty red-gold hair and a no-nonsense confidence I can’t help but envy.

While Levi is talking to her dad, she shows me around the house and farm. It’s not just their family here. They’ve got a lot of other folks living and working here too.

It’s got to be better than the way most people live after Impact.

We stay for about two hours, and Levi is pleased with the potential for future trade. I’m pleased with the whole expedition, including the basket that Faith packs up for us of sandwiches, tomatoes, and oat-honey cookies since we have such a long drive home.

Levi smiles at me as we pull out of the front gates and back onto the road. “You have a good time?”

“Yes. I’m so glad I got to come.”

“I’m sorry you been cooped up so much. I should’ve thought of it earlier. We can make sure you get out more often from now on.”

“It’s really okay. I understand. I’m not very good at defending myself, and I don’t want to pull someone away from more important work just to escort me. I don’t want you to go to too much trouble. But maybe occasionally someone can take me out.”

His shoulders lift in a huff of amusement. “Whatcha talkin’ ’bout, someone ? You don’t think I’d trust anyone else to keep you safe out here, do you? You’re not goin’ out with anyone but me.”

“Oh. Okay.” I squirm slightly and try not to hug myself. Maybe I should resent his high-handedness, but I don’t. I wouldn’t feel this safe with anyone but him, and I like that my safety is so important to him.

“That okay with you?” He keeps looking over, trying to read my expression.

“That’s okay with me.”

We had a snack at the farm, so it’s a few hours before we think about eating again. We’re back in Indiana, not too far from home when Levi’s stomach growls.

I snicker. “You should have said you were hungry. We’ve got this basket of food we can dig into any time. Too bad we can’t find a nice place for a picnic.”

It’s an idle comment. Just one of those things people say now. Idly wishing for a better world than the one we’re living in.

But Levi says, after thinking for a minute, “I know a place.”

“What? Seriously? You know a place where we can have a picnic?”

“Sure. Why not? It’s not too late yet. We’ll still get back to base plenty early.”

I’m so excited I clap my hands. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see. It’s off this road just a bit. The turnoff is about fifteen minutes away. Shouldn’t take us too far out of our way.”

“Perfect. I’m so excited!”

Levi doesn’t say anything else, but he takes a turn to the left farther up the road.

This road is a lot smaller than the main one we’ve been following.

It’s narrow and rough and overgrown with half-dead weeds.

He drives slowly, but he clearly knows where he’s going.

He takes one more turn and then gets out to open an old-fashioned metal gate—still closed on a rusty fence—before he pulls the truck onto a long gravel driveway.

“This is it?” I ask, staring out the window at the big, untended field.

“We’re almost there.”

I stare with wide eyes as the wheels crunch on the gravel. We clear the field and reach what obviously used to be an orchard. Trees are lined up neatly in rows on either side of the gravel drive, the leaves mostly withered and weeds and vines tangled around most of the trunks.