Moonshine

Kat Bostick
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 Contents

Title Page
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A Note from the Author
Acknowledgement
about the Author
Books By This Author

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 Moonshine Copyright © 2020 Kat Bostick All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any manner without written

permission, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

For permissions visit: [Link]

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, and incidents

portrayed in it are products of the author’s imagination or have been used
fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons,
living or dead, actual events, locale or organization is entirely coincidental.
The author does not have any control over and does not assume any
responsibility for third-party websites or their content.

ISBN 978-1-7350097-0-4 (eBook Edition)

ISBN 978-1-7350097-1-1 (Paperback Edition)

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For everyone who believes love can conquer the darkest days.

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 1
Living on a Prayer

No one knows why the lights went out. Except maybe some secret
branch of the government. They always know stuff like that, don’t they? I
suppose it doesn’t really matter now. Six months after the blackout, they
went dark too. Government officials disappeared and with them,
government aid.
It was like someone took the seams of the entire nation and started
tugging. At first there was only a little pilling; a handful of looters who
thought they could get away with stealing—they usually could—and soccer
moms fighting over the last package of toilet paper at big box stores. At
first, I thought the people stockpiling had to be out of their minds. The
power was out. Why bother stocking up on groceries that won’t keep?
One or two months in, I suddenly understood the appeal of buying
sixteen cases of canned vegetables. Food was food in the end of the world
and those of us without it found ourselves at a disadvantage that could serve
to be deadly. On the other hand, those who had it also found themselves
facing death by the hands of those without.
I still remember the sickening dread I felt over the first report of
someone killed over supplies in the city. It seemed so barbaric, so inhuman.
Unfortunately, it was only the beginning.
Despite having no lights, no fridge, and no running water, the
blackout felt inconsequential during that first month. Moving from my
duplex to one of the disaster relief camps was like going to summer camp.
Most of my bunk mates were friendly enough and though the food wasn’t
amazing, it would keep me going. We even made a game of tossing ideas
around, trying to figure out how we’d gotten in this mess.
People at camp said it couldn’t be an EMT—or was it EMP?—
because there wasn’t a weapon big enough to knock the whole country off
the grid. And plenty of technology still worked. My cellphone had power—
though no signal or Wi-Fi—and most older cars ran just fine. It wasn’t like
airplanes suddenly fell from the sky. Not that I saw, anyway. We just didn’t
have electricity.
There were plenty of other theories; a massive solar storm, rapture,
Russians, super intelligent sentient computers, aliens…the list went on. You
name an apocalypse movie, and someone believed we were living in it. As
for me, I didn’t think the world was ending. I was naïve enough to believe
that someone somewhere was taking care of it for me.
That was how I ended up in my current predicament. I didn’t even
bother to pack the right shoes when I left for camp. I believed my stay
would be temporary. Those trendy low impact, brightly colored barefoot
shoes were great right up until you stepped on a pointy rock. Make that six
hundred pointy rocks on the gravelly shoulder of a back-country road in
middle-of-nowhere Washington State.
Or, as one of my former travel companions charmingly referred to it,
Bumfuck, Washington. In my mother’s household that phrase would have
earned me a mouth full of soap. That was before though, and as much as I
could use the laugh, I needed to keep my mind on track.
And I couldn’t risk the noise. Making too much noise got you killed
in the end of the world.
Boots. I needed boots and for the first time in thirty miles, I might have
found somewhere to acquire them. Shimmering before me like a beautiful
oasis in the desert was a sporting goods store. Alright, fine, it wasn’t
shimmering. In fact, the weathered building looked like it had seen better
days before the world ended. The yellow sign advertising live bait was
practically crushed under the weight of creeping moss that made its way
down the roof, threatening to cave the whole thing in.
The second I saw the place I wanted to sprint to the door with tears of
joy in my eyes. Experience taught me better. After grocery stores and gas
stations, outdoor gear stores were the next to become hotspots for looting.
There was that handful of eager people who attacked shopping malls and
jewelry outlets but somehow, I doubted they were sitting pretty on a
lifetime supply of Twinkies that they traded designer shoes and diamond
rings for.
Stuff was useless in the end of the world unless you could eat it,
wear it, or defend yourself with it. A shame, really. I loved stuff. I missed
throw pillows and fingernail polish and sparkly tops that had no practical
purpose. But there was no use lamenting over the past. It could swallow you
up like a black hole if you weren’t careful.
It was over three days ago that I last spotted recent human activity and
even then, the trail was fairly cold—based on my very lacking knowledge
of such things. Still, the store was surrounded by a concrete lot and left me
wide open to anyone inside or scouting from the trees. I could wait until
night, but my flashlight ran out of batteries and it would take me forever to
fumble around in the dark.
Was I going to risk it? I sat in stillness for another minute, listening for
any sign that I wasn’t the only one here.
That was the thing about the end of the world. It wasn’t the earth
ripping in two or cities consumed by tsunamis. It wasn’t hordes of zombies
wandering the streets. Most of the time it was…empty. Quiet. Sometimes
just quiet enough to trick you into thinking it was a Sunday morning and
everyone was sleeping in and any moment the smell of fresh baked goods
would waft down the road from a café like nothing had changed.
That feeling was a lie. Everything had changed.
And I’d learned the hard way that sometimes, quiet doesn’t mean
empty. Quiet doesn’t mean you’re alone. Quiet can be much more
dangerous than gun fire and raised voices. Quiet means you’re being
watched. As much as I desperately hated being alone, I would rather not
have company.
Even if there were others nearby, I wasn’t in any shape to run from
them in ripped up shoes. I glanced down at my sneakers with a sigh. There
wasn’t really another option.
Looks like it’s now or never, Liv. I thought, feeling the familiar tightness
of anxiety constrict my chest.
Up until the world ended, I wasn’t one for prayer. Growing up in the
Bible Belt, you’d think I would have been well versed in religion, but my
parents weren’t the type to believe in anything that didn’t make them
wealthy or make them look wealthy. One man back at camp claimed God
had abandoned us and we were what was left after the rapture took the good
ones. Maybe that was true. Maybe there was no God, but when it’s just you
and the eerie silence of an empty town, you start asking for guidance from
anywhere you can get.
Please God, let there be size five and half boots in there. And please
God, don’t let there be raiders in this town. Don’t let there be anyone but
little old me.
Prayers sent and parking lot scouted, I took off at the fastest pace I
could manage, my backpack slinging back and forth as I went. I wasn’t sure
if it kept getting heavier or I kept getting skinnier, but the darn thing nearly
toppled me. By the time I reached the glass door my heart was pounding so
fast that my head felt light. That was happening a lot more often lately and I
couldn’t always blame it on fear.
Please God, let there be a box of granola bars in this shop.
Based on the smashed glass, which I hadn’t noticed from a distance, that
was unlikely. This store, like many others I’d passed, was already hit by
other travelers, maybe raiders if I was especially unlucky. They always
trashed what they didn’t take because, hey, why not? If you’re going to
stoop so low you attack fellow humans with blunt objects, knocking over
mannequins and lighting useful stuff on fire is only to be expected.
Not ready to give up hope and terribly uncomfortable being so
exposed, I ducked through the glass-less bottom half of the door. Shards
crunched beneath my sneakers and I winced. There were at least three holes
in the soles of each shoe and there was no avoiding the glass. I would have
to tip toe and hope nothing large embedded in my skin.
There were no windows in the shop, making the broken door the only
source of light. I could easily make out a dusty counter with an open and
empty register, two shelves of disturbed fishing rods, and a toppled clothing
rack that used to hold hunting attire based on the label. The air inside was
stuffy and the place had a dull fish smell to it, likely from bait that was not-
so-live anymore.
If someone was in here, the glass skittering under my feet would have
immediately alerted them. I held still for three breaths, listening intently for
any sign that someone was coming to shoot me and take my stuff. Maybe
there was a God after all. No one came for me and as my eyes adjusted to
the shadowy interior, I spotted a sign marked “shoes.”
In my experience, the first thing people went for in sporting goods
stores were the guns. This store was a tiny place in a tiny town and didn’t
sell firearms but there were several empty shelves that previously held
knives. If not seeking out guns, people usually took anything else they
could carry. The boots in the back were picked over, obviously visited by
more than one person or group in the past.
 On the bright side, my shoe size was small enough that most people
couldn’t wear it. Unfortunately, that also meant that retailers in nowhere
towns didn’t typically carry it. I’d found that a six was doable if I doubled
up on socks but currently, I was lacking in the sock department and it didn’t
look like there were any left here.
Just behind the furthest shelf was a door marked “employees only.”
Feeling more desperate than brave, I twisted the handle and tested the lock.
The door opened with a creak. Inside appeared to be storage shelves, most
of which were as disturbed as the rest of the store. It was nearly pitch black
in the stock room, but I propped the door open and crept inside anyway.
I’ll be honest, I’m afraid of the dark. Of all the things I’d seen in the end
of the world, darkness wasn’t all that bad, but for some reason my brain just
went haywire every time the lights were out. Five steps in, I started
imagining clowns hiding behind the shelves. Not raiders or creepy
cannibals that were hungry enough to eat my flesh, but clowns. If I could go
back in time and warn my sixteen-year-old self how many nights I’d be
spending alone in the dark, I would have skipped every single one of those
horror movies.
I barely managed to stifle a scream when the plastic crate I was reaching
for fell off the shelf and dumped shoe boxes on top of me. I definitely got a
cardboard cut on my forehead and several on my arms but, because God
was real and feeling the love for me today, I found brand stinkin’ new boots
in size six. The only pair, too.
It took serious guts, but I pushed myself further into the room in search
of socks. Bingo! There was half a crate of wool socks hiding under a bunch
of the duck toys used for training hunting dogs. It was tempting to take all
of them but even if socks were lightweight, I knew I shouldn’t add too
much extra bulk to my pack. These days I was lucky if I found more than a
picked over blackberry bush or two. The hungrier I got, the harder it was to
carry anything besides my own body.
Once back in the relative safety of the shoe section—and once I’d
closed the gaping clown hell door—I sat on the floor and hastily exchanged
my ripped up tennis shoes for hiking boots. The fit wasn’t perfect, and I was
probably going to have blisters for days. Nothing to be done about it.
The longer I stayed inside the store, the antsier I got. With only one
obvious entrance, I was trapped. Despite my nerves, I forced myself to
check the back shelves for food or any other useful items. I found a
collection of books but sadly none of them detailed wild food or how to
identify it, which would have come in real handy. There were dozens of
discarded beef jerky, protein bar, and snack mix boxes but not a single one
had any food left in them.
I would have felt better if I’d never discovered those boxes. Seeing
colorful pictures of food brands that I recognized made my stomach rumble
painfully and my mouth water. I needed to get out of here and find
somewhere to settle down before nightfall. Then I could worry about
sustenance.
The new leather boots were rigid around my ankles and toes, but holy
cow did it feel good to walk over that glass without worrying about any of it
getting through the holes in my shoe. It was about time something went
right.
I was less careful coming out of the store as I was coming in because if
someone was watching, there was no way I would avoid their gaze. Once
out the door, I powerwalked—running risked using up the rest of my energy
for the day and I needed to do some serious hiking to get far enough away
from this town—to the tree line and located the road I’d been following for
the last three days.
Without a compass or frequent road signs it was hard to say exactly
where I was. I was fairly certain that I was still going east or at least east-
ish. Based on the way the towns were gradually shrinking and the elevation
was rising, I was getting closer to the Cascades. Mountain wilderness would
be great for avoiding other people but considering what a poor job I’d done
of keeping myself fed on wild food, this didn’t bode well for me.
Not to mention, the weather was getting colder. It was subtle right now,
but the sunny, dry days were giving way to cooler and cooler nights.
Without a tent or proper clothing there was no way I would even make it
through autumn in the mountains.
That didn’t leave too many options. Whether or not I headed back west,
I would have to deal with winter. While I might be lucky enough to find
more supplies, maybe even some canned food, I risked encountering
raiders. Thus far I’d seen signs of others heading this way but most of it
looked to be from a single person or small groups. Raiders travelled in
numbers and they were quickly overtaking urban areas.
From what I’d seen, many of their groups were pre-existing gangs
or younger men with no qualms about committing horrible acts of violence.
They swept through cities, towns, and camps like knife wielding locusts,
taking whatever—and whoever—they wanted. By now Seattle was
probably split up into territories, each maintained by one bloodthirsty raider
group or another. Returning to the city was less desirable than freezing to
death in the mountains.
East-ish it was then. Sooner or later I would have to come upon a town
that hadn’t been abandoned or perhaps another FEMA camp that wasn’t
ravaged by raiders. I slipped as far into the trees as I dared, noting that the
afternoon sun was already beginning to hint at that golden evening glow. I
wasn’t going to make it much farther today. That was the struggle of
travelling on foot.
When I wasn’t gathering meager amounts of food or sneaking
through towns, I was walking. I couldn’t really say what my goal was with
all that walking. Maybe I was headed for the fabled camps in eastern
Washington, the ones supposedly untouched by raiders and blessed with
wind energy. Maybe I thought if I just walked far enough, I would find
some normal place that wasn’t affected by the end of the world and be
welcomed by kind strangers. Or maybe I simply wanted to survive and so
far, the only way I knew to do that was to keep moving.
I didn’t encounter any berry bushes for the remainder of the day.
The invasive Himalayan blackberry proved to be an ally on my journey
through the wilderness—when I wasn’t getting painfully tangled in it,
anyway—but it seemed to grow scarcer as I neared higher elevations. I
picked several dandelion plants throughout the afternoon, chewing the bitter
leaves and grimacing. That was hardly enough food to fill my mouth, much
less my stomach.
By twilight I was wandering aimlessly, barely aware of the road,
feeling lightheaded and like my legs were made of pool noodles. That sprint
to and from the store took its toll. Once upon a time I was a cardio-bunny,
but my days of track and field were long over. Though I struggled to walk, I
forced myself on until I found a patch of evergreen bushes tucked around
the back of a Douglas fir. It wasn’t the ideal place to sleep but it would
conceal me.
Settling between the bushes with my backpack in my lap, I clenched
my jaw in an attempt to ignore the painful emptiness in my gut. I didn’t
want to consider what my frail state meant. I didn’t want to think about
what would happen if I didn’t wake up with enough energy to walk
tomorrow. It hadn’t been this bad before. I was hungry, sure, but I never
stopped.
Darkness gradually closed in around me and my heart tripped with
the familiar terror that accompanied the night. Even with my knees tucked
to my chest and my location hidden, I never felt safe. It was going to be
another restless sleep, waiting for any sign of a hunting predator or a bold
group of raiders. Any of the hope I earned from my successful scavenging
trip in the sporting goods store was quickly fading and I found myself
praying once again.
Please God, don’t let me starve to death.

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 2
Yellow-Bellied

I fell into a deep sleep for short but blissful hours. While I slept, my
brain created a glorious dream of a brightly lit restaurant where I sat eating
tray after tray of sushi. I don’t think I even like sushi but when you can’t
have everyday things, all that stupid stuff you didn’t give a chance becomes
appealing. What if I actually do like sushi and now I’ll never know?
The four other people I ended up sharing a tent with back at camp
joined me in a daily whine-fest, listing all of the foods they never tried,
places they never travelled, and the expensive shoes they wished they’d
bought. We actually had competitions to see who could come up with the
best first world-problem. We were still living in the first world. We had
infrastructure and a big, rich government. We just had to wait it out. The
right person would put the right plan in place and boom, no more power
outage.
Our naivety was laughable. No one was prepared for the end of the
world.
My back was stiff from sleeping in a fetal position and an all too
familiar ache in my joints told me I overdid it yesterday. Fortunately, I was
able to get up and move around without passing out—always a good sign
when you’re low on sustenance—but the telltale shake in my hands made it
clear I needed to make food my biggest priority.
Maybe that was how I got lost. Or maybe in my exhausted haze yesterday I
wandered further from the road than I thought. Either way, twenty minutes
into my search for any kind of edible berry or dandelion—one of the few
wild plants I knew I could eat—I realized that I couldn’t see the road. I tried
to backtrack to the tree I slept beneath but I must have been wrong about
which direction I came from because another twenty minutes had me
standing among totally unfamiliar surroundings.
“Don’t panic, Liv.” I ordered my very much panicking self.
The only reason I managed to make it this far without getting totally lost
in the wilderness was following the road. I never found much in terms of
supplies, but those few bags of potato chips and soggy fig bars were my
saving grace. With no road, how was I supposed to get to eastern
Washington if I didn’t know which way was east?
“The sun rises in the east, dummy!”
Duh! Oh. Wait. Or was it the west? Darn, where was Google when
you needed it?
I instinctively fingered the back pocket of my jeans where my cell
phone used to sit. I was mostly certain the sun rose in the east. Scanning the
forests, my eyes found a faint glimmer of light. The sun hadn’t yet crested
the tops of the trees, but it was clearly visible through the branches.
Okay, my new plan was to follow the sun. If I kept going east I
could find a good camping spot and make markers so that I could explore
the area until I found the road again. That would also be an excellent way to
look for food. Maybe I’d even come upon an empty house with a full
pantry.
Yeah, and maybe I’ll find a unicorn that lets me ride on its back all
the way to Disneyland.
“Don’t be sour.” I chided myself. “This is a good plan. This is fine. I’m
fine. Everything is going to be fine.”
Three hours later—or something like that because how do you even
measure hours without a clock?—I was totally not fine. My body ached, the
spot where a shoebox hit me in the face throbbed, and I was weaker than I’d
ever been. Imagine drinking six cups of coffee on an empty stomach then
running up twelve flights of stairs. That was what I felt like just walking
slowly through the understory. Earlier I’d found one lone dandelion plant
growing in an open patch of sunlight and eaten every single visible part of
it, right up to the flower.
All that did was make me feel like vomiting.
I was about to give in to my body’s need to rest and lie down
wherever I was standing when I spotted train tracks. Train tracks would
intersect with the road and maybe even lead me to a town. This close to the
mountains the towns might still be inhabited and well stocked. God, maybe
I would even find someone to lend me a bed.
At this point sleeping on a rug would be more comfortable than
sleeping against a tree trunk.
Taking a bet and hoping my instincts were correct, I took a right and
started following the tracks. I walked as far as I possibly could before the
lightheadedness came again. A clearing ringed by ferns and bushes
appeared fifty feet from the tracks and I knew I’d found that perfect camp
spot for the night. Using my very last scrap of strength, I collected a
handful of branches to cover a cozy nook at the base of a maple tree. And
cleared the spider webs from the bark, of course. Even in the end of the
world, a girl doesn’t want to wake up with spiders in her hair.
It wasn’t the most inconspicuous shelter I’d ever made but it was
enough. From there I had the perfect vantage point to see the tracks and the
opening in the trees where I’d come in.
Unlike the night before, I didn’t dream. Huddled against my tree, I
fell into a heavy, dark sleep and when I woke, I was more than a little afraid
that was my first taste of death. Was my body on the brink and only the
minuscule calories from yesterday’s dandelion plant kept my weak heart
beating? I didn’t see any tunnels made of white light or hear the voices of
angels but then again, maybe I really was just another bad one left behind
by God.
Dying or not, I decided it would boost morale to change my clothes.
I hadn’t done that in almost four days and while all of my clothes were
dirty, the ones I picked were cleanest.
I’d successfully washed laundry in a creek before but the few
trickles of water I encountered lately were barely enough to fill my bottle. It
seemed more prudent to worry about hydration rather than hygiene. Who
was around to smell me, anyway?
I was almost finished repacking my bag when I caught sight of
movement near the train tracks. I froze, holding my breath and watching
with dread as two vaguely man-shaped figures wandered along the tree line.
Once upon a time I was a people person. Totally extroverted, I loved
talking to strangers and making new friends. The end of the world broke me
of that. I learned the hard way what people were capable of when it was
every man for himself.
Of all the things that would get me killed, I never imagined it was my
favorite color being yellow. My bag was almost full and I was frantically
but cautiously repacking when the men spotted me, no doubt because the
shirt under my jacket was mustard yellow and caught the rising sun in a
gilded show.
They were a good distance away but I could make out their expressions
just fine. They were smiling. It was not a friendly, glad-to-see-someone-
else-out-here smile. Bestial excitement glittered in deep set sockets on filthy
faces. Even before the world ended, I knew that look. I’d simply been too
innocent to recognize when I was prey.
The stakes were lower then. I wasn’t happy about a hand shoved
down my shirt or an unwanted pinch on the rump but that was nothing
compared to what I saw in these men. We were living in lawless times now
and there would be no repercussions for their actions. Remembering that
was what got me moving. A quick glance over my shoulder showed they’d
increased their pace and were jogging my way.
Unlike me, they didn’t have big packs to weigh them down. They seemed
to be dressed for hunting, rifles slung over their shoulders and camo jackets
to disguise the upper half of their body. Why only jackets? I wasn’t a
hunting expert but the effort seemed useless if any passing wildlife could
see their denim clad legs.
What was wrong with me? These men were hunting me and I was
wasting precious brain power wondering about their jeans.
“Where are you going, sweetheart?” One called after me. “We
wanna talk to you!”
I didn’t look where I was going, I just ran. I ran until cool air burned
the lining of my lungs and my ears were pounding with blood. I ran until
the world around me blurred not from my speed but from dizziness. I was
too weak to run much further. What remained of my leg muscles were on
fire. I stumbled, twisted an ankle, crashed through branches, scraped against
tree trunks.
The men gave chase. They reminded me of starving dogs, ravenous
at the sight of a rabbit. Even when I couldn’t see them, I could almost feel
their breath on my nape. I heard them too, crashing through the brush with
much less effort than me. In the beginning I had a good lead but they were
rapidly gaining on me.
They were going to catch me. There was no way out of this.
I thought of the bus then, recalled the swarm of men just like these
two. Flashes of blood painted my memory. The gore was far more
horrifying than any movie I’d seen. Much more surreal too. The wailing
pleas of a woman whose name I couldn’t remember resounded in my skull
as I replayed those haunting images. No one would remember her name
now. No one would remember mine either. I couldn’t go on any longer.
Even if I pushed my body, my brain was failing.
 It was literally failing. Starved of nutrients and adequate rest, I struggled
to maintain consciousness. The exertion from running took the last crumb
of energy I had left and my vision was tilting. My thoughts went from
panicked overdrive to a sluggish confusion. Why was I even running? I
should let them catch me. Maybe they’d be merciful and kill me quickly. I
wouldn’t live anyway. If by some miracle I got away I was still doomed to
starve to death. A slow death that I would see coming but could do nothing
to prevent.
I’d heard that your life flashes before your eyes when you die but I
always thought it would be more mystical, all of my best memories floating
by like a dreamy river. Instead I was visited by all of the things I shouldn’t
have done. Shouldn’t have argued with my mom the last time we spoke,
shouldn’t have said no to the million social events I turned down, shouldn’t
have avoided fried food because I was scared to gain weight.
There were the “should haves” too. I should have gone to school in
Texas so I could go home to my parents during the blackout. I should have
packed better gear when I left my house in Seattle. Should have done
something when raiders attacked my group instead of running like a coward
—like I was now.
I should have become a gosh darn Girl Scout so I knew how to navigate
the woods and find my way east. Then I wouldn’t even be in this mess.
I was deliberating my choices—that last ounce of will to live
warring with the fatigued desire to give up—when something darted in
front of me. My vision was too far gone for me to identify the dark shape. I
skidded to a halt, tumbling forward without my momentum. I shoved my
hands out but it was as if they moved in slow motion, unable to catch me
before I landed face first in the dirt.
Thirty seconds passed before I managed to lift my head. My gaze met a
mouthful of sharp teeth. Just above those curled lips and fangs was a
shimmering wet nose and a snout carpeted in silky black fur. At first, I
thought it was a bear. Then my eyes focused enough for me to realize it was
a dog; the biggest dog I’d ever seen. Probably bigger than me.
Men behind me, a dog—maybe dogs—in front of me, and I wasn’t
sure which was worse. Dogs could be harmless and sad, looking like some
starving, wet mess from an SPCA commercial after their people died or left
them. They could also be vicious predators. Packs of dogs roamed the roads
and claimed territory near previously inhabited areas. I’d seen them from a
distance—even saw a rather gory dog fight once—but had thankfully been
able to avoid them.
A dog, much like a person, was a wild card. Would they wag their
tail only to bite you when you got too close? Would they surround you and
attack you from all sides? Would they eat you? Okay, I was pretty sure
people hadn’t devolved into cannibalism—yet—but the same couldn’t be
said for dogs.
The canine rumbled a low growl. A gruff sound followed, almost
like the noise the dog made but unmistakably human. I raised my gaze past
the dog and saw a man looming over me. He was the biggest man I’d ever
seen. From my position on the ground he appeared implausibly tall, a dense
tree trunk carved into the shape of a person.
Actually, he could have been a walking tree. Unlike my pursuers, this
man was dressed head to toe in camouflage. Even the lower half of his face
was covered with some tree colored cloth. Inky hair was tied back at the
nape of his neck. That was the only human part of him I could make out
beside dusky eyes, barely visible under furrowed black brows.
Taking a gamble, I lifted pleading eyes to the monstrous stranger.
“Please, help me.” My voice was a raspy croak. It sounded like death.
There were thundering footsteps behind me and two rapid cracking
sounds ringing in my ears, a storm coming to climax right above me. Then I
was sinking, my head falling to the cool earth, my body becoming oddly
weightless. The sensation was confusing, like floating on air and slowly
dropping to the bottom of a lake all at once.
Distantly, I wondered if this was what dying felt like.

[Link]
 3
Axe Man

There were birds singing. In the forest there were almost always
birds singing. At one point I thought the sound was beautiful. Eventually, I
began to feel as if the birds were mocking me. What was so thrilling that
they had to tweet about it all day? The world was ending, a crushing weight
that grew heavier and heavier until my body threatened to buckle.
I became conscious of the feel of my body and realized that the weight
was gone. I was cozy, all the aches and pains easing as I rested on the
softest surface I’d felt in…God, how long had it been since I’d been in a
bed?
There was warmth too, gentle and subtle on my face. Now that I was
rousing, I could hear the quiet crackling of a fire. That delicious mingling of
aromatic smoke with damp summer air invoked nostalgia for a childhood I
didn’t have, one spent roasting marshmallows over a campfire and sleeping
under the stars. My parents wouldn’t be caught dead in a tent and they hated
going anywhere with bugs.
There were other smells, layers of scent that painted a million
possible surroundings in my mind. The zesty hint of fresh cut wood danced
with cinnamon and a mix of herbs that reminded me of a new age herb shop
—the ones that sell incense, crystals, and artsy glass bongs. Beneath that
was the delicate aroma of flowers, not sweet and floral like a perfume but
earthy like a botanical garden.
I hesitantly pried my eyes open. Dim light danced over dark blurs
with fuzzy outlines. I blinked lethargic lids until finally—yes, thank God—
my sight sharpened. I was staring at a wall. It held no paintings or windows,
only aging grey-brown boards. I shifted my gaze to a cherry wood
nightstand. The piece was weathered, like an antique that someone found at
a garage sale but hadn’t restored.
I moved my gaze the other direction—at least as far as I could from my
resting position. I was too afraid to raise my head yet. It felt heavy enough
to snap my neck. And I didn’t know where I was or who I was with. I
wasn’t ready to alert them that I was awake.
 There was a door on the far side of the wall. It was at the very edge of
my peripherals so I only caught a glimpse of it. If not for the worn brass
handle I could have mistaken in for another wall panel. Was that the way
out? I should probably make note.
I rolled from my side to my back with way more exertion than it
should have taken. The ceiling above me, as old and weary as the walls,
tapered down from a peak. Firelight flickered across the beams, causing my
eyes to lose focus again. I lowered my chin to my chest so I could look at
myself instead.
A patchwork quilt covered my legs. The squares were varying
shades of fading blue, some decorated with embroidered flowers. Very
homey and not what I expected to wake up to after running through the
woods to escape raiders. Past my feet was the end of a wooden bedframe. It
was crafted out of small logs, one of those furniture accents usually featured
in kitschy vacation cabins with deer heads on the wall.
There was nothing kitschy about this space. The rustic appearance
felt too real to be intentional. The place seemed like it fell together that way
organically. A country home assembled one piece of old wood at a time.
Just beyond the foot of the bed, I noticed him. The low light almost hid
the small dining table. It couldn’t hide the man seated in the chair furthest
from me. His hulking shape filled the room, drawing my attention not only
because of his imposing presence but because he made the table look
comically small. The shadows in the room seemed to gravitate toward him,
making his unruly head of black hair and matching beard into a shade of
midnight. The darkness clung to his already reticent features, painting his
face in shadowy mystery.
How long was I unconscious with him staring at me like that? The
strained, clumsy ticking in my brain built up into a whirring of anxiety.
Anything could have happened while I was blacked out. A hand slipped
over my legs and stomach found my clothing intact. That didn’t necessarily
mean it hadn’t come off at some point but surely there would be some sign
of that.
I dragged that same hand up to touch my hair. It was dry. There was a
steady drizzle when I ran from the clearing and my hair had been damp for
hours before that.
Okay, so I’d been here for more than an hour. I swallowed. My
throat was scratchy and dry. Up until the clearing I’d done a good job of
staying hydrated. Water kept my energy up and filled my complaining
stomach. I was thirsty now but not painfully so. That gave me a window of
time that fit within four or five hours. Unless he gave me something to
drink and I forgot. Or he gave me something that would make me forget.
Somehow, I doubted a man that big would need to use anything if he
wanted to...yeah, not going to complete that thought.
My eyes finally lowered to the contents of my backpack, neatly laid
out on the table before him. Even my collection of tampons were sorted into
an organized pile with the other bathroom items. Pretty methodical for a
guy who looked like he might behead a hiker with an axe.
Apparently, he was waiting for me to wake. At least, that was why I
imagined he was staring right at me with unblinking intensity. That or I was
wrong about cannibalism and he was deciding if I had enough meat on my
bones.
I gulped down my apprehension and did my best to sit up. Even that
was enough to make my head spin. The man tensed as if I was about to leap
out of bed and attack him. An odd clicking resounded off the wooden floor
and then a huge dog rounded the corner of the bed, growling viciously.
“Kuna!” The man growled a warning back at the dog. The rough
grate of his voice almost made me jump out of my skin. That dark gaze
never left me. “You’re awake.”
“Yes.” Fear clawed at my throat, making it feel raw. I was going to
lose it if I didn’t chill out.
“Water?”
I gaped at him helplessly before squeaking out another “Yes. Please.”
Now that I wasn’t face first in the dirt, both man and dog weren’t
quite as big as I’d initially observed. He rose from his chair to retrieve a cup
from a cabinet, proving that not as big was still darn big. Like taller than
any man I’d ever met by half a foot with at least fifty pounds more bulk
than the bulkiest. And with all that black hair, I’m surprised I hadn’t
mistook him for a black bear.
There was a rushing sound when his back was to me, one I hadn’t heard
indoors in a year or more. Running water. He had running water! Where
was I and who the heck was this guy? I instinctively flinched away when he
stalked from the kitchen to place the full glass on the nightstand. His brows
pinched in a harsh frown and I flinched again.
 “Thanks.” I murmured. He grunted and returned to the kitchen, his
hips resting casually against the counter. I took the glass with shaking hands
and swallowed as big a sip as I dared.
“When was the last time you ate?” It was more accusation than
question, as if I’d been starving myself for the fun of it.
“Oh, I don’t know. Yesterday, maybe.” I tried to keep my voice
steady, but it trembled as much as my hands. I took another sip of water in
an attempt to gain some composure.
“You’re malnourished.”
“I figured.”
“Olivia Sophia Bryant.” I sat up a little more to see he was holding
my driver’s license.
It was probably silly to keep it. My wallet and cell phone too. The
phone had been dead for over a year and the sixty bucks in cash was
worthless. They were little tokens of faith, my hope that someday they
might mean something again. I didn’t really care if the money had value or
if any of those stupid apps on my phone still worked. It was the security of
a future that was like the past I knew.
It wasn’t a perfect life. I didn’t have great friends and there was no
boyfriend that might be thinking of me from somewhere far away. My
parents probably presumed me dead and had come to terms with it, if they
weren’t dead themselves. Still, I liked that life. I was going to make
something of it.
That life was gone now. Olivia Bryant was dead. She withered away
out in those woods and someone new took her place. I didn’t know this girl
yet, had no idea what to expect from her. It’s a wild thing, becoming a new
person. I had to be different if I was going to survive the end of the world.
And I was going to start by growing a backbone.
“Only my father calls me Olivia and only when I’m in trouble. It’s Liv.” I
sat up as straight as I could, shoulders back, fragile chest puffed out.
“Can you get up?” He ignored my response.
“Yes.” I said knowing full well that I probably couldn’t.
He crossed his arms, his raised brows daring me to prove it. His face
wasn’t as harsh without that frown. That wasn’t to say he
was friendly looking. With a face that square and rigid, it was nearly
impossible for him to appear any way other than dour. The thick beard that
covered the lower half of his face and stretched down to the top of his
Adam’s apple made his jawline seem even broader. Those murky eyes were
lighter without the shadow of a scowl, more of a cocoa brown than dark
umber.
I heaved myself out of bed with a stifled groan. For a second I
wobbled there dizzily before steadying myself. My walk to the table was
more of a shamble and I had to brace myself on the wall twice. Just about
every part of me hurt. My knees ached, my legs were sore, and my ribs
smarted with each subtle shift of my torso. The skin from my collarbone to
my sternum was burning but I was too scared to look down and see the
damage from my run and the resulting tumble to the ground.
My axe murderer friend studied me as I made my journey into the
kitchen, his face showing nothing but unimpressed displeasure. After a
treacherous and snail-paced journey to the table, I had to catch my breath
before pulling out a shockingly heavy wooden chair. I tried to hide my
exhausted panting when I lowered myself into the seat across from him.
Up close, his eyes reminded me of a perfect mug of hot chocolate.
How could a man with hot chocolate eyes be frightening? With that lethal
scowl, that was how. No amount of melted chocolatey goodness could make
up for the hard edge that practically cut the air between us.
It didn’t help that he had so much hair. His collar length black locks
made him look wild, almost feral. He reminded me of those rugged men
who wander out of the city to spend the rest of their days alone in a cave in
the mountains. By the looks of it, he kind of was. Only difference was he
lived in a shack instead of cave.
“Your friends are dead.”
I gaped at him, completely clueless as to how to respond to that.
“What an awful thing to say to a person. Did you kidnap me just to make
me feel bad? What’s next? Are you going to tell me my parents didn’t love
me?”
Now he was the one slack jawed. “I didn’t kidnap you.”
“I didn’t think so either but now I’m second guessing myself
because you’re glaring at me like a scary murderer and reminding me that
most of my friends are probably dead.” I chewed my lip.
“A scary murderer? How fucking old are you?” He shook his head. “You
asked for my help.”
“I did but I was half sure you were a walking tree and I was
hallucinating. I hadn’t realized you would be so rude.”
 “I’m not—” he bared his teeth. Feral man. “Stop changing the
subject. You can’t distract me that easily.” Rough fingers scratched a
familiar line through his beard. “Were you willing bait? Did they offer you
something in return? Food? Shelter? Protection?”
It felt like we were having two different conversations. “Look,
Mister...what did you say your name was?”
“I didn’t.”
“Fine. Here’s the thing, beard boy. I have no clue what you’re
talking about. Bait? Bait for what? Who are ‘they?’ I’m truly grateful that
you helped me, but I’m starting to wonder if maybe you’ve confused me
with someone else. Are you sure it wasn’t another starving blonde lady lost
in the woods that you’re thinking of? I mean, we can’t be that rare.” What
was I saying? Why was I arguing with a potential axe murderer? Part of me
felt I should be demurely thanking him and hunching down in the chair, but
it seemed pointless. I was trapped in his house, God only knew where. My
chances of survival were as good here as they were out there.
“You’re telling me that you didn’t know those men? They just
happened to chase you into my woods? And you just happened to run into
me while running away from them?”
“Sounds about right.” I nodded. “And for the record, they’re
not your woods.”
“My property, my woods.”
“Who’s going to enforce private property laws now?”
He propped a meaty hand on the butt of a gun holstered on his belt.
“Me.” That was about as close to a threat as I wanted to get.
“I realize that it does seem highly suspect that our paths crossed in
the middle of nowhere while I was trying to escape raiders but I promise
you, it’s purely coincidental. If anything, I should be the one suspicious of
you. I’ve gone weeks without seeing a single person and suddenly I
encounter three men in one instance? How do I know you weren’t working
with them to herd me into a trap so you could go all Donner Party on me?”
“I don’t even know what the hell to say to that.” He rested his
elbows on the counter behind him, relaxed body language warring with his
brusque tone. “First of all, fuck those assholes. Second, is that what you
think raiders do? Eat people?” He pursed his lips, considering. “You haven’t
actually seen raiders eating people, have you?”
 “No. It just seems like something people might do in the end of the
world. At my hungriest, I can’t say with absolute certainty I wouldn’t have
eaten a fellow traveler.” I wrinkled my nose. “On second thought, I couldn’t
do it. Gross.”
“Are you crazy? Did I bring a crazy person into my house?” He
seemed like he was asking himself more than me.
I answered anyway. “I think I’m doing pretty swell in the mental
health department, all things considered. On a scale of chill to psycho, I fall
right about at the hungry squirrel mark.”
Silence thickened the air around him like fog, not just
uncomfortable but a bit suffocating too. Dark eyes were shadowed by even
darker brows, making his brown irises into black wells. They were
terrifying and mesmerizing. It was only when the expression turned from
scrutinizing to menacing that I realized I was staring at him. Staring at him
staring at me.
“Okay, Squirrel.” I jumped when he spoke. “What story do you
expect me to believe?”
My nerves returned with trembling hands. What happened if he
didn’t believe me? “What part of the story do you want? It’s a long one.”
“What are you doing out here?”
“You brought me here.”
“What were you doing in my woods?” He was quickly losing his
patience, I could tell. For some reason that only made me want to prod
more.
“Maybe you should consider putting up a sign, since you’re so
sensitive about the whole woods thing.” When he growled like his dog, I
decided to not to push my luck and answered. “I was following the railroad
tracks. Figured they might take me near a town where I could get some
food.”
“Nothing left around here. If there is, you’ll have to fight off raiders
to get to it. Don’t seem like you’re in any shape for fighting.” His next
stretch of silence was contemplative, but it didn’t make me any less
uncomfortable.
I did my best to smile. “So, I’m Liv. What’s your name?”
“Were you with anyone?” He ignored me again.
“No, I’m single. I played the field but I guess I just never found the
one.” Since when was I so snarky?
 “Other people. A group. Were you traveling with anyone?” His
volume rose. I had to flex my weak muscles to keep from ducking away
from the roughness of his words.
“No. I was alone.” I shrugged. “You going to tell me your name
yet?”
“Why do you care?” The creases on his forehead sunk deeper,
almost completely obscuring his eyes.
“I’d like to know the name of the man that saved my life.” I swear
he recoiled at the sentence.
He considered, jaw flexing and shoulders tense. I’d never met
anyone that felt threatened by pleasantries before. “Joshua.” It was more
grunt than word.
“Nice to meet you, Joshua.” If saying that he saved my life made
him uncomfortable, hearing his name on my tongue was downright painful.
“This all you got? You got a camp somewhere?” And we were back
to the interrogation.
I waved my hands with a flourish, putting on my best game show host
voice. “This is all of my worldly possessions.”
My enthusiasm fell flat when I actually looked at the contents of my
pack strewn before me. I was more prepared for a weekend getaway than
surviving in the wilderness. There was a stainless steel water bottle, a beach
towel, colorful leggings, flowy yoga pants with some tribal pattern, a
collection of t-shirts, many of which were pink and yellow, a purple and
white striped bikini, piles of underwear, a new package of hair bands, a
handful of tampons, two tubes of sunscreen, and four pairs of sunglasses.
Both of us stopped on the sunglasses at the same time. I shrugged
and explained, “Sunglasses break easily and they were the least picked over
item in gas stations.”
None of the items were useless but few of them had proven to be
particularly useful either. The tampons were quickly becoming a precious
resource but I hadn’t gotten my period in…shoot, I couldn’t even
remember. Otherwise, I hadn’t used much else recently. Bathing took too
much energy and walking in the trees, I didn’t usually need sunscreen or
glasses. The leggings and shirts only served as layers and they were poor
layers at that.
I was doing this survival thing all wrong.
 “This your only weapon?” He raised one hand above the table and
waggled my folding knife. I hadn’t even noticed it was missing from my
pocket.
“Other than my samurai sword? Yup.” I tapped my pointer finger on the
table. “I’d hardly call that a weapon, though.”
“It could be if you had the skills to use it.”
“I didn’t exactly have time to teach myself knife fighting. I was kind
of busy trying to survive.”
“You weren’t doing a very good job.”
“Did you rescue me just to insult me?”
“You need to eat.” He ignored me—again—and gave me his back. It
was only when he yanked open the door to a tiny fridge that I realized what
it was. Running water and a fridge? A working fridge?
“How do you have electricity?”
“Same way I’ve always had electricity.”
I waited but he didn’t give me anything more than that sarcastic
quip. Since he was preoccupied and apparently not concerned with what I
was doing, I took the time to repack my bag.
Joshua watched me in his peripherals as he added something to a
hefty cast iron skillet and clanged it onto a stove by the sink. The stove was
black and metallic and took up a quarter of the kitchen. Just like the
nightstand by the bed, it looked like some antique thing that desperately
needed a polishing. How did it even work? I understood when he opened a
groaning hatch beneath the burners and added a handful of wood strips. It
was a wood burning stove. I didn’t know anyone still used those.
Was I rescued by a pioneer? He lived in a wooden shack—probably
built by hand—and cooked his food over a fire. I didn’t realize people like
him were real. Except for maybe Amish people. Joshua didn’t look Amish.
He was wearing Levi’s and a grey flannel and he had a hunting knife
strapped to his belt.
And a gun.
Somehow, I doubted Amish people carried guns. Oh, and duh, they
didn’t use electricity. Then again, no one used electricity these days. No one
but Joshua. He was growing more mysterious by the minute.
He didn’t say a single word when he was finished questioning me,
which left me to stare at him in as he cooked. He didn’t come across as a
kindhearted stranger but so far, he hadn’t leered at me either. On the creepy
scale he was more “murder you because you’re disturbing his peace and
quiet” than “follow you home at night and climb through your window.”
Not exactly the most reassuring assessment.
“You’re too skinny.” I couldn’t say what kind of man Joshua was
just yet, but he was definitely a pro at breaking quiet spells with rude
comments.
“That’s not a very nice thing to say.”
A familiar smell wafted from the stove to hang in the air. Though I
hadn’t eaten a significant meal in days, maybe longer, the scent of whatever
food he prepared made my stomach turn. I wrinkled my nose in recognition
when he scraped greasy brown lumps out of the pan. “Um, no thanks. I’m a
vegetarian.”
Joshua snorted derisively and set the plate of meat on the table in
front of me with a clatter. “That’s why you’re so scrawny.”
I pouted. “You’re kind of mean.”
“And you’re whiny.” He snapped back.
“I am not!” I whined.
A minute ticked by and I made no move to touch the plate. I glanced
up in a cautious survey of his features. He was scowling. When I crossed
my arms and leaned back, he mirrored the movement. I was playing with
fire, I knew that, but what better way to get a gauge on the type of person
Joshua was? By his expression he was definitely an impatient type. Would
that impatience lead to rage? Violence? Not the best idea to provoke him
but if I knew what I was up against, I could decide if I needed to try for an
escape.
Another minute passed. My stomach growled painfully but it was
drowned out by Joshua’s angry noises as he crouched to dig through the
cabinet closest to him. There was a series of scuffling sounds and a curse
word I wasn’t sure I’d even heard before, then the cabinet door slammed. I
heard the click and scrape of a can opener, then Joshua thumped a dented
can of black beans in front of me. Liquid sloshed over the side and onto the
table.
“It’s cold.” I complained, though mostly to judge how upset he
actually was.
“And all the meals you’ve eaten until this point were hot and fresh,
I’m sure.” He threw his hands up. “If you quit bitchin’ and eat that damn
rabbit it might still be hot.”
 “That was a rabbit?”
He fixed me with a look of pure contempt. I pushed the plate of
meat in his direction. He caught it, glared at me some more, then pinched a
piece of meat between his fingers and plopped it into his mouth.
His mustache wiggled back and forth when he chewed. It was so
odd and fascinating to watch, like a living carpet on his face that moved in
its own rhythm. Suddenly I was giggling, my own laughter a foreign sound
to my ears. I guess I was finally losing it after all of that time alone.
“You are crazy.”
“Probably.” I covered my mouth with two fingers but more quiet
sounds of amusement tickled their way out of my throat anyway. Joshua
frowned—big shocker—and took another piece of meat. As soon as he bit
down I was chortling again. Now he looked more confused than anything
else.
“Eat.” He nodded at the can.
I heaved a dramatic sigh and brought a small spoonful to my mouth.
The beans were cold and bland but I was hungry. So unbearably hungry. I’d
gotten past the point where my stomach hurt. There was just a pit in my gut
where hunger used to be. Before I knew it, the can was empty and I was
instinctively scanning the table for extra food.
“More?” Joshua asked quietly. I was so fixated on the beans that I
hadn’t noticed him watching me. My ravenous frenzy was embarrassing.
Not embarrassing enough that I didn’t eagerly nod. “Please.”
He turned back to the counter. A minute later he was serving bread with
a tray of butter and a jar of jam. My mouth started to water.
“Why didn’t you start with the bread and jam?”
“Protein.”
“Did you bake this yourself?” I picked up a piece of bread and
inhaled. Crumbs dotted my upper lip and nose. Joshua wasn’t quite
frowning anymore but there was definitely not a smile on his face. That
lack of hostility was good enough for me. I grinned at him, much more
genuine than before.
“Yup.”
“And the jam?”
“Homemade too.”
“Where did you get butter?” I eyed the creamy stuff warily. It was
wetter than I remembered butter being.
 “Butter comes from the goats.” He explained, returning to his seat.
“Goats? You have goats? Are you a farmer?” I left out the word
“Amish” because I wasn’t sure if it was rude to ask.
“Something like that.”
“Can I meet them? The goats I mean? I’ve only ever seen goats in a
petting zoo. Well, through the fence of a petting zoo. I wasn’t allowed to
actually pet them because goats are dirty and my mother hated dirty.” I was
oversharing. Side effect of spending too much time alone.
“Maybe. Eat.”
“You don’t talk much, do you?” I started smearing butter on a slice
of bread. Now that I knew where it came from, I swore I could smell the
goat.
“Don’t have anything to say.”
“Somehow, I doubt that. Are you out here all alone?”
“Why are you asking?” The suspicion returned in full force.
“I’m making conversation.”
“Or you’re gathering information.”
“Usually when you get to know someone you are technically
collecting information on them. It sounds unfriendly when you say it like
that.” I shrugged at him and started buttering another piece of bread. The
goat butter was different but I was dumping on so much jam I could hardly
taste it.
“Why are you asking?” He repeated.
“Sorry, I was only curious. I didn’t see anyone else here and there’s
only one bed, so I assumed you live by yourself. Seems lonely, not having
anyone to talk to. I haven’t had anyone to talk to for months.” I explained,
trying to sound innocent.
“How did you end up in my forest?”
I set the half-eaten slice of bread back on the plate and looked down. I
really didn’t want to revisit those memories just then. Or ever. “I was
running from those men.”
“Before that?”
“I got separated from my group when we were following the
interstate. I was trying to go east. That’s where my group was headed.”
“Thought you said you didn’t have a group.”
“I don’t. Not anymore.” I snapped, though I felt like a housecat
hissing at a lion. I was surprised that I’d even been brave enough to add the
sharp edge to my voice.
“How did you get separated?”
Separated was a terribly tame word for what happened. “We stopped
to camp. Raiders attacked. They had knives, big ones, like the ones that
people use to cut open coconuts.” I picked at the crust of the bread and tried
to think about the way a knife like that looked cutting a fresh coconut on the
beach instead of the arm of a man attempting to ward off an attack.
“Machetes?”
“I think so.”
“How many men?”
“I don’t know.”
“Estimate.” He demanded.
“Fifteen?”
“How far from here?” He was doing a good job of hiding it, but he
seemed alarmed.
“I-I don’t know.” I stammered. I saw him preparing to snap the question
again so I quickly gave another answer. “We were still close to Seattle.
Maybe forty miles out of the city? Far from here. I’ve been through
countless towns since then.”
“When did this happen?” Joshua crossed his arms and leaned back,
relaxing slightly.
“It’s hard to say. I lost track of time. Four months. Or maybe six? I
couldn’t keep up with the days.” I rubbed my hands over my face to ease
the dread that prickled in my stomach when I recalled losing my group and
the months that followed.
“And your group? How many?”
I recounted every face and name I could until I had a number.
“There were twenty-four of us. We all fit on one bus.”
“How did you get away?”
“I was using the bathroom in the bushes when I saw the men coming
and I ran.” It wasn’t like I could have helped. That didn’t stop me from
feeling guilty. “I left them.” Seemed like ever since the blackout, all I’d
been doing was running away.
“That was the smart thing to do.”
“I guess.” I took another bite of bread to distract my mouth and keep
my lip from giving away how close I was to tears. I wouldn’t cry in front of
Joshua. He already thought I was weak. I had to prove him wrong.
 “Why were you going east?”
“We heard there were more camps further east. Bigger ones with
power and food. I think we were headed for Yakima or the Tri-Cities.”
“You think?”
“I was just following everyone else. I didn’t know what to do.”
He huffed like he didn’t expect any better of me. “Why were you
looking for other camps?”
“Ours was destroyed. It started as a riot. People were shot. All the
supplies were stolen or ruined. One of the National Guard guys helped my
group escape with a few crates of packaged food and—what do they call
those?—oh, right, MREs, some water, and fuel. We took a school bus from
a nearby high school.” I closed my eyes and recalled that day. I heard the
pop of gunshots, remembered wondering why fireworks were going off. I
thought it was a celebration. I thought maybe the power was coming back
on.
“You got any family?”
“My parents are in Texas.”
“You didn’t head south to meet them.”
“No, it appears I didn’t.”
“You don’t like them?” That hardly seemed like useful information.
“Is that any of your business?”
“Is it your business to ask if I’m alone out here?” He countered.
“Touché, big man.” I puffed a hot breath and finished my slice of
bread. “I like my parents just fine. Not enough to walk twenty-five hundred
miles only to find they’ve left home. There’s no point in looking for people
when we can’t communicate. I might walk south and they might travel
north and we’d pass each other on the same mission.” And I knew that they
would never come looking for me. They might not even be relieved to see
me if I made the perilous journey and showed up on their doorstep.
Joshua seemed satisfied with that answer. He didn’t ask any other
questions, only finished the meat on his plate, watched me finish my bread,
and said “You need a bath.”
“I’m too skinny and now I stink? Gee, you’re delightful.”
The look I got was the type of exasperation that led to murder, I was
sure of it. “I’ll get the water ready. No more food. Need to let your body get
used to eating again.”
 There was a long silence that gave me ample opportunity to argue. I
don’t know why I had the urge to because he was right, I really needed a
bath. Part of me wanted to disagree with him because I felt powerful when I
did. Being defiant annoyed him but it didn’t earn me any of the awful
retaliation I anticipated from a man like Joshua.
Well, I couldn’t really say that, could I? I didn’t know much about
him yet but I was pretty sure there weren’t any other men like Joshua.

[Link]
 4
Stranger in the Mirror

Without so much as a backwards glance, Joshua stomped out of the

house. Was that a sign of trust? Or was I such a lack of threat that he wasn’t
worried I’d grab a knife from the block and ambush him at the door?
If I had any intention of exploring his shack and satisfying my
curiosity while he was gone, I quickly changed my mind when I noticed the
dog was still inside with me. She sat on a rug on the other side of the shack,
boxed in by two worn leather recliners, ears alert and eyes focused on me
like laser beams. I swear she growled when I even thought about moving.
I decided to restrict my exploring to eyes only. My room in the three
bedroom duplex I shared with two roommates in the city was only a little
smaller than this place. There was the bed where I woke up—queen size,
taking up a good quarter of the room—and a nightstand on either side of it.
In the corner beside the bed was a guitar and a short chest of drawers that
was as in need of some TLC as the rest of the furniture.
The kitchen and dining room combo where I sat was mostly
occupied by the wood burning stove. There was barely space for the
countertops and the sink. The sink was deep but narrow and by the look—
and smell—it hadn’t been thoroughly cleaned in a while. In the corner
between the cabinet and that mysterious door was the fridge, quietly
humming a noise that was now at the top of my favorites list.
How was it possible that he had power? In the middle of nowhere?
Add it to the growing list of questions.
The dining room table and chairs were solid wood and the set might
have been pretty once. The table was petite and round, perfect for a
breakfast nook. It was this nice chestnut color too but it was riddled with
scratches, dents, and water marks. Joshua wasn’t a coaster guy.
I was beginning to get a better picture of him. He was a bachelor
escaped from the city. Maybe a hipster barista that threw down his apron
and disappeared into the mountains. It would explain the flannel and the
beard.
 Nope, that man had never touched a latte in his life. The word
“Frappuccino” probably wasn’t in his vocabulary.
He was a redneck type, then. Maybe this was his family farm. It
would explain the outdated appearance. He inherited a goat farm and didn’t
have the money to fix it up. Or he might not have had the time to before the
power went out. Either way, there was no chance this guy was new to living
out here. He just looked the part too much. And he even had the ugly, mean
dog.
I looked back over at the black beast in the corner of the room. She
was standing now, jowls vibrating but no growl escaping her throat. She
was a beautiful animal, actually. A hundred pounds or more with long legs
and a thick, muscular chest. Her eyes were that same dark brown as
Joshua’s and her fur a similar sleek black as his hair.
The dog perked her short, floppy ears up and whipped her head
around to look at the door. A few seconds later footsteps pounded outside,
practically shaking the whole shack. The front door swung open and Joshua
returned with—what in the world was it? He had some kind of metal tub in
his hand that—Oh. No way. Not happening.
He was holding a steel water trough. There was absolutely no
chance that he was going to get me to bathe in it.
“I’m not scrubbing down in a goat’s water bowl.” I said as soon as
he closed the front door. He looked at me like he was surprised to see me
there, or maybe just surprised I was still bothering to speak to him.
“Yes, you are.”
“Gross! No! What’s the point of bathing if it’s in a dirty goat
thingy?”
“It’s not dirty. Stop whining.” Once again, he moved on, changing
the topic before I had a chance to continue my complaint.
“You got any bad injuries besides that one on your chest?”
“On my chest?” My hands reached for the painful spot I’d all but
forgotten about. I winced when my fingers pressed the fabric of my shirt
into a cut, likely from where a tree branch whipped me. “How did you
know that was there? It’s under my shirt.”
“It bled through.”
“I’m bleeding?” I tucked my chin to my chest and sure enough,
there was a rust colored line across my shirt. The mustard yellow top had
gone from fashionable—if not filthy—to making me look like a hot dog.
 My concerns were ignored as Joshua carried the trough between the
two recliners to rest in front of the fireplace. I hadn’t given much notice to it
before because the dog was in the way. She sat beside it, enjoying the heat
from the sparkling logs. Of everything in the shack, it was the most
charming.
Like the rest of the tiny structure, it appeared to be made by hand.
Uneven and multi-colored stones were stacked together to form a small arch
and a half circle hearth. It looked like the perfect place to sit and enjoy a
cup of coffee on a snowy Christmas morning.
“You’re not bleeding anymore. Might need stitches though. And I
need to check for any other wounds that could get infected.” He rearranged
the chairs to make a path to the kitchen. Joshua must’ve spent a lot of time
talking to himself because he barely raised his voice loud enough for me to
discern what he was saying.
I cleared my throat. “I can check. Do you have a mirror?”
He eyed me for a minute. “We’ll see.”
“Hey, wait,” I put a hand up when he marched back into the kitchen
to retrieve one of the pots off the stove. Steam was rising from it now.
“Don’t you have anywhere else you can put that? I’d like some privacy.”
“Don’t have any.”
“You don’t have any privacy?” I fisted my hands on my hips.
“No.”
“What about in there? Is it a closet? Or a room? Maybe you could
just put the tub in there and close the door while I get clean.” I waved at the
door next to the kitchen.
“No.”
“Why? Is that where you keep the bodies of all the other women you
rescued?” It was supposed to be a joke but it sounded a little too accusatory.
“No.”
“Is ‘yes’ even in your vocabulary? It’s the opposite of no? Spelled
Y-E-S?” Big surprise, he ignored me.
I didn’t get up from the table until Joshua stepped through the secret
door—it definitely led to a room and not a closet because he disappeared
inside for more than five minutes—then returned with a full-length mirror.
It was oval shaped and looked to be another garage sale antique that was
left to collect dust. He placed it against the wall beside the fireplace and
waved me over impatiently. I scooted across the wood floors on socked
feet, not trusting my wobbly legs to carry me that far.
I couldn’t bring myself to stand in front of the mirror when I was close
enough to. I was more afraid of what I would see than I was curious about
how I’d changed.
I knew my eyebrows would be a little out of sorts since they hadn’t
been waxed in ages. My hair was probably tangled because I lost my brush.
I’d seen a shadowed reflection of my face in puddles and still water from
time to time, but I had no idea what I would be confronted with in that
mirror. I wanted to look in and see my old self looking back at me—that
friendly girl with healthy blonde hair and lively green eyes. Not beautiful
but cute. Nice enough to look at.
I doubted I would even recognize myself now.
Joshua made an impatient grunting noise and I startled. He was so quiet
and still that his presence had faded out of my awareness. I don’t know how
that was possible since he was looming over me, his frame twice as wide as
mine and his arms probably thicker than my thighs. I’d never considered
myself short—not one of those tall girls with super long legs but a little
above average—yet I felt microscopic next to him.
“You’re seriously going to stand there?” His only response was to
huff, cross his arms, and turn his back to me.
Maybe he didn’t trust me to be alone in his living room. Though, his
living room was also his bedroom and kitchen so it wasn’t like I would be
alone if he was in either of those “rooms” anyway.
“Joshua?” He kept ignoring me. “Joshua!”
“What? Would you get it over with? This isn’t a damn hotel. I have
better things to do than babysit you while you primp in the mirror!”
I was so taken aback that I took a step away. At least that answered
the question I hadn’t yet asked. “I am not primping. Who raised you? Just
because it’s the end of the world doesn’t mean you no longer have to utilize
your manners.” Of course, I had to be rescued by the only person in the
world who managed to make my blood boil with a single sentence. “Why
are you helping me? What do you get out of this?” Why was
he babysitting me if it was such an inconvenience to him? I hadn’t found
people to be particularly charitable after the blackout.
His mouth was half open like he was ready to make another brusque
remark when the question I wasn’t asking, the one glaring between the
lines, became clear to him. Joshua softened more in that brief moment of
recognition than I’d seen since I woke up. A series of emotions played
across his face. Understanding shifted to something that was almost
sympathy. Then just as quickly it became horror.
I’d never been happier to see a horrified expression on someone’s face.
Joshua was rude and ill-tempered, but he wasn’t a rapist. I couldn’t believe
I even had to clarify that. What a time to be alive.
The softness vanished and Joshua was flicking impatient fingers at
me. I flicked my hand back at him. I waited until he’d turned again to grab
the bottom of my shirt and tug it over my head. I fumbled with the button
on my jeans next. It took me three tries to get it undone because of the
shudders that still wracked my body. This time I wasn’t sure if they were
from exhaustion or nerves. Did I really take Joshua’s word when he
couldn’t give me an explanation for why I was here? Why he was helping
me?
I’d promised myself I wasn’t going to cry in front of him. It was
proving to be a difficult promise to keep.
I was standing in my underwear in some strange man’s shack while
he was only two feet away. I had no clue where I was or who he was. Did it
even matter anymore? Did I care what happened after this? I wasn’t sure. I
was so tired of running, of being afraid. I was so tired in general.
No more fear. I inhaled a huge breath for bravery and stepped up to
the mirror.
Despite the fire, the air was cold, making goosebumps rise on my skin.
My pale skin. That was the first thing I noticed when I saw my reflection. I
was ghostly white, which made all the bruises on my legs, arms, and chest
look even more apparent. There were a lot of them. I was dotted with purple
and green-brown spots. There were also red scratches all over my forearms
and neck, probably from branches whipping my face as I ran. None of them
were as bad as the angry red line slicing from beneath my collar bone to my
left breast.
My hair, once straight and sleek and shiny, was a tangled mess. I’d
done my best to comb through it with my fingers but there were still several
clumps that were going to take forever to work out with a brush—assuming
Joshua owned one. It was greasy too, making my dark blonde into a mousy
color. My eyebrows weren’t as bushy as I remembered them getting when
they were grown out. At least there was that. They were brown, a shade
darker than my hair, and when they were full like this, they made my face
too serious.
Beneath those bushy brows, I met my own eyes. The color was the
same light green—seafoam green if I was feeling fancy—but they were
unfamiliar. Something was missing, some spark that made me look alive.
The rings around them were so dark it appeared I had bruises there too. My
normally round face seemed misshapen now that my cheeks had lost their
plumpness.
Considering how long I’d gone without a full meal, much less three
in a day, my body wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. I probably lost
twenty pounds. It might have looked worse if I hadn’t gained that freshmen
fifteen last year and never worked it off. Still, I was scrawny. Bony. My
breasts, which used to be, in my humble opinion, the most attractive part of
my body were pointy little triangles. There was empty space in the fabric
cups of my bra.
In another time, before the world came crashing down, some women
might be envious of my body. My hip bones stuck out and my stomach was
flat. I almost looked like one of those fashion models, the ones bordering on
skeletal but making up for it with huge breasts and defined abs. Subtract the
breasts and abs and that was me. Well, take away the glossy, airbrushed skin
too. My knees were scabby. I was battered and sickly.
Disgusting. I looked disgusting.
Those tears I was desperately trying to hold in arrived on a horrible
croaking noise. The croak was followed up with a whimpering gasp that
startled Joshua and made him twist in my direction. He had resting bitch
face dialed up to a thousand percent. I’d almost forgotten he was there
again. I paid him no mind, even if he was looking at me in my vulnerable
state. I only stood there, sobbing at my own reflection, wrapping my arms
tight around myself.
I didn’t think I could feel any worse until Joshua spoke. “What’s
wrong with you?”
“What’s wrong with me?” I wailed. “The world is ending and
everyone I know is probably dead and I look like a walking corpse! And to
top it all off, you’re asking me what’s wrong with me? What’s
wrong with you?”
He didn’t have a response to that. I don’t know if that was because
he felt bad or because he didn’t want to deal with my emotional outburst.
Instead, Joshua made a slow circle around me, inspecting every inch of my
skin in the most perfunctory way possible. He was the first man to see me
naked—well, almost naked—and he was looking at me like a used car.
The tears came harder. It should have been something special,
having my clothes off in front of someone. Instead I was exposed and
sobbing in front of a man who I only met hours ago.
Joshua stopped when he got to my chest. I felt the heat of his hand
hovering over my skin but never touching. At least he was vaguely
respectful. I could be dead in the forest after those two raiders were finished
with me. That thought made me cry harder still. Behind me, Joshua’s every
exhale was a cloud of annoyance. I glanced over my shoulder when I heard
a floorboard creak and saw him already across the room.
He returned from the kitchen with a boiling pot of water for the
trough. Once the tub was full, he stepped through the secret door again. He
came back out with a handful of small bottles, a hairbrush, and a bar of soap
that looked homemade. It smelled like lilacs.
By the time the bath was ready, I was less concerned with the lack
of privacy than I thought I would be. Joshua had already seen me—most of
me, anyway—and he was making a conscious effort not to look. I did my
best not to be nervous when I stripped the last of my clothes off. He took a
seat in one of the worn leather recliners, his gaze fixed on the fire like I
wasn’t even there. My gaze was fixed squarely on him, just in case.
He never snuck a peek, not even in his peripherals. The trough was a
bit of an awkward shape for reclining but the water felt amazing. It was the
perfect temperature and he’d splashed some fragrant oil in that soothed my
aching muscles. I didn’t think I would ever get the chance to take a hot bath
again and there I was, soaking in luxury. Goat water bowl luxury.
I spent a few minutes hunched low in the water, trying to get as
much of my body submerged as I could. When that got uncomfortable, I sat
up and reached for the soap. I smiled the faintest smile, took a rag he’d left
for me, and got to work scrubbing.
Next, I had to tackle my hair. It was much longer than I realized. By
the time I brushed out all of the knots, the water was cool. The bottle of
what was presumably homemade shampoo smelled like citronella. It wasn’t
very sudsy but it spread through my hair easily enough. It took forever to
rinse it out because I had to repeatedly dunk.
 I wanted to cry again when my hair was finally clean. It would have
been a good cry this time. I hadn’t realized just how dirty I was and just
how bad that made me feel. Being clean was an instant boost to morale.
And soaking in hot water? I was like a whole different person.
“Thank you, Joshua.” It came out on a relaxed sigh. He jerked his
chin up in a sharp acknowledgement of my words.
I wasn’t even concerned with whether or not he saw me when I
stood to dry myself off. It wasn’t like there was anything exciting to see,
unless he was into toothpicks. I wiped as much water from my skin as I
could before stepping onto the rug. I tucked the towel under my armpits and
wrapped it around my body, stooping to pick up the pile of clothes beside
the tub.
“These aren’t mine.” I said when I realized I was looking at a pair of
men’s long johns and an enormous thermal shirt. The long underwear
looked fairly new but the shirt had a fraying hole on the left side and what I
hoped was only dirt stains. I gave it a wary sniff.
“Your clothes need to be washed.”
“So you expect me to just go commando until I find a laundromat?”
Joshua didn’t answer. That was the answer.
Fine. Commando it was. I had to tie the strings on the waistband of
the pants in a tight bow to get them to stay up. They were so long that only
my toes poked out of the ankle holes. It looked ridiculous. The shirt could
be a dress on me. Oh well, at least I didn’t smell bad.
“Let me see your chest.” Somehow, Joshua knew when I was done
dressing without seeing me do it.
He stood from his chair, his imposing shadow spilling across the
living room, and pulled a tin out of his pocket. I turned to face him, eyes
downcast as I lifted my shirt. When his hand made contact with my skin I
almost jumped. The feel of his fingers was jarring. It was the first time
another person had touched me in months, maybe longer.
I sighed louder than I intended when he pressed gauze onto my skin.
If he noticed, he didn’t care. He only pointed to the bed. I didn’t
immediately react because I didn’t understand. He waved his hand more
impatiently. I quirked an eyebrow at him and slowly trailed to the bedside.
He gave a nod when I sat on the mattress, then busied himself with
something in the kitchen.
“Do you want me to—”
 “No.” Jeez, he didn’t even know what I was going to ask.
The fire was dying down and the room growing darker but I
continued to watch him, my curiosity only increasing as he pulled a
collection of jars from a cabinet and started scooping spoonfuls of their
contents into a mug. He had to break up small pieces of wood from a stand
beside the stove to grow the fire inside before adding another pot of water
onto the surface. It seemed an awful lot of effort just for a little hot water.
Steam billowed from the pot within a few minutes. Joshua carefully
gripped the handle and poured it over the contents in the mug. When he was
finished, he plopped down into a dining chair across from the bed and eyed
me suspiciously.
I could only meet his eyes for a heartbeat before averting my gaze.
He didn’t avert his. I wiggled further up onto the bed and tucked my knees
to my chest. Joshua stared at me—more like glared—for an uncomfortably
long time. I couldn’t figure him out. First he avoided looking at me and now
he wouldn’t look away. Eventually he turned his attention back to the mug
and I exhaled shakily.
Satisfied with his hot concoction, he strode to the bed, handed me
the mug, and hurried back to his spot at the table. I sniffed the liquid warily.
Whatever he brewed was pungent and sweet but in a rich, sickening kind of
way. The smell was so strong it made my lips droop in an involuntary
grimace.
“What is this?” I asked quietly.
“Tea.” He responded.
“Not hibiscus, I’m guessing.”
“Just drink.”
I did as he commanded. The first sip was the worst. That pungent
scent tasted just like it smelled. There was a bitter aftertaste too. My throat
tightened and I had to hold the tea in my mouth for half a minute, mentally
arguing with my gag reflex until it finally agreed to give in and let me
swallow. I did my best not to make a disgusted face as I drank but the flavor
never improved. If this was an acquired taste, I hoped that I didn’t drink it
enough to acquire it.
“Thanks.” I coughed when the mug was empty. All I got was
another sharp nod.
I set it on the nightstand and resumed my upright fetal position. It
was mostly to keep myself warm now rather than an attempt to hide from
Joshua’s one-sided staring contest. Fifteen or twenty minutes passed in
silence before I broke it with a loud yawn. I didn’t get much sleep these
days and when I did it was interrupted every hour as I jolted awake in fear.
For the first time in weeks, maybe months, I was safe from any outside
threats—unless Joshua was one, but I was fairly convinced that he wasn’t—
and it was like my body knew it.
My eyelids were heavy, head foggy, muscles relaxing. Relaxing a
little too much, actually. It felt the same as the subtle drowsy haze that I got
when my mother poured me half a glass of wine during our last
Thanksgiving together. Did Joshua put something in my tea? I was
watching him the whole time. If it was drugged, the effects were mild
enough for me to fight against them. Though, I’d never done any drugs and
a doctor had never given me any that would put me to sleep so it was
possible that this was just the beginning. I blinked back sleepiness and
straightened.
“What kind of tea was that?”
“Herbal.” He grunted.
“Did you put something in it?” Not that I believed he’d just come
out and admit it if he secretly drugged me.
Joshua relaxed further into his chair, that same soft expression from
earlier briefly flitting across his face. “Only herbs to help you sleep and to
ease pain. You fell hard. Surprised you didn’t crack your ribs.”
“Oh.” I really needed to think of something else to say. “That’s nice
of you.”
“Sleep.” He rumbled.
I scanned the room until my eyes fell on the extra space in the bed
beside me. “Where do you sleep?”
“I don’t.”
I waved a dismissive hand at him. “Of course you do. You can die
without sleep.”
“I’m not dead yet.”
That was the end of our conversation. He got up from the table and
settled back in the oversized recliner by the fireplace. He must have sat in
that one often. Compared to the twin chair on the other side of the rug, it
was worn. The leather arms were faded and fraying. When he lowered
himself onto the cushion the whole chair creaked like it struggled to bear
the weight.
 What are you doing out here all by yourself, Joshua?
Joshua watched the fire and I watched him for as long as I could
stay awake. He was still, almost unnaturally so. There were several times
where I couldn’t even tell if he was breathing.
This isn’t a damn hotel. I flipped his words around in my head,
trying to make sense of them compared to his actions.
He was being awfully hospitable to a stranger in the end of the
world. I hugged the pillow beneath me. It was a pretty good one, not too
floppy, not too firm. The bed was warm, the mattress soft. My belly was
full and I was clean. All of it thanks to him.
If this wasn’t a hotel and he wasn’t being charitable, then
there was a price, even if Joshua hadn’t named it yet. I drifted off
wondering how I would end up paying for my stay in his little cabin.

[Link]
 5
Snake in the Grass
A sense of urgency roused me but I was just so comfortable. I was
finally in my own bed, in my own room. That shouldn’t be possible. The
day I left for college my mother converted my bedroom into a guest room. I
wasn’t about to question it. I was cozy and everything smelled like
cinnamon.
A loud clang startled me from my dozing state and suddenly my
brain was screeching. Get up! Someone found me! I need to get up!
That panic didn’t translate into motion right away. It took me five
solid seconds to open my eyes. I saw greying wood above me. I heard
unfamiliar clattering noises. I smelled that spicy scent, food too. Then I was
bolting upright and screaming. I don’t know why I screamed. Maybe if
there was an animal poking around me, I would spook it?
There was an animal, as it turned out, but I didn’t spook her. A big black
dog sat a few feet from me. When I shot up she stood, fur bristling, and
growled.
“What the fuck?” there was another clang as the man in the kitchen
beyond the foot of the bed set a heavy pan on the stove a little too hard.
Once Joshua recognized me as the source of the shrill sound, he scowled.
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
I gaped at him. Despite the rush of adrenaline, I wasn’t fully awake.
Collecting one thought in my head was like walking through molasses. My
brain finally clicked on as I recalled last night. Joshua frowning at me,
feeding me, bathing me. Oh. Yeah, he totally saw me naked.
Hardly a priority right now! He’s talking to me. I should probably
talk back. He already thinks I’m a crazy person.
“What’s wrong with you?” He repeated.
I brushed hair from my face and straightened. “That’s kind of a rude
thing to ask, don’t you think?”
“You always wake up screaming?” He turned his back to me and
readjusted the pan he’d almost dropped. Something was steaming on the
stove in front of him. I could hear the faint crackle of the wood burning
inside the ugly steel thing.
 “Only when I wake up in a stranger’s house with his monster dog
sizing me up for breakfast.” I shot the dog the meanest look I had. She was
unimpressed.
“Kuna, leave it.” Joshua muttered without turning around. The dog,
apparently called Kuna, shook her head until her ears flapped but eventually
obeyed the command and trotted over to the fireplace. She plunked down
on the rug with a loud sigh and an angry glare in my direction.
The room was brighter in the morning, but barely. There was a
window over the sink, to Joshua’s right with yellowing curtains. They
looked like they could have been a nice shade of white at one point. Years
of dust didn’t do the color any favors. The faintest blue glow through the
window told me the sun hadn’t even crested the horizon. Dang, he got up
early.
I surveyed the space a second time, hoping to see more now that I
wasn’t squinting in firelight. I spotted two additional windows. One by the
front door and one to the right of the fireplace. They were as tiny as the
kitchen window and covered by matching curtains.
Other than a small bookshelf that I hadn’t noticed last night, there
wasn’t much else to see. All the added light did was reveal that the place
was dirtier than it looked in the dark. It really was just a shack. One tiny
building with all the rooms of a house—minus the bathroom, which I really
needed to use—combined into one. I did another cursory scan to make sure
there wasn’t a bucket or bottles of pee in the corner.
“Do you have a bathroom?” I twisted to put my feet on the floor.
Sitting up still made me feel woozy.
“Outside.”
“Do you just use the yard like the dog?” I didn’t think it was an
unreasonable question. He had no bathroom and he cooked his food over a
wood burning stove. Pretty primitive. I assumed his restroom habits might
be too.
That was an incorrect assumption. Joshua frowned over his
shoulder. This one was less frustrated and more of an “is this girl stupid?”
look. He abandoned his cooking, walked to the front door, and crossed his
arms. When I didn’t trot over there like his obedient dog, he cleared his
throat and frowned harder.
You’d think someone so impatient would use words to get their
message across more efficiently. I eventually grasped what he wanted and
teetered over to his side. He yanked an insulated raincoat from a rack and
handed it to me. Then he kicked boots in my direction. They were mine. I
slipped them on without socks, wiggled into the oversized jacket, and
followed him out the door.
The shack had a porch. It was the cutest part of the little structure. A
wooden bench and two Adirondack chairs were tucked to one side. It gave
the building a rustic, country-living look. All it needed was one of those
bling crosses above the door and some chipping white paint.
Past the porch was a huge field full of plants. They didn’t appear to
be ordered in any specific way but there was a path snaking through them
and beds made out of river stones. If I hadn’t noticed the tomato plants
scattered throughout, I might not have known it was a garden. Beyond the
garden there was a wall of massive evergreen trees, shadowing the
surrounding area and making it impossible to see what else was back there,
if anything.
I inhaled deeply. The air was fresh, cool, and clean. There was the
faintest whiff of mulch and a scent that reminded me of a petting zoo—
perhaps those goats he mentioned—but otherwise it smelled earthy, like the
forest. Distantly I heard the clucking of chickens and what could have been
a bleating goat. The rain was only a light drizzle today but it muffled much
of the noise coming from beyond the house.
We circled around the side of the cabin—I was training myself not
to call it a shack, that seemed impolite—and passed a woodshed. The scent
of sawdust and the sharp tang of pine permeated the air around it. I took
another inhale and realized that same smell lingered on Joshua. Not that I
was smelling him.
We arrived at our destination a few hundred feet past the woodshed.
An outhouse. Joshua had a real outhouse. It was literally four tall planks of
wood with a door cut into it, topped with a triangular roof. Said roof looked
less than satisfactory in the safety department. The wood was very, very
weathered and it had a layer of moss pressing down on it. Hopefully I
wouldn’t be crushed while I was taking a pee.
Joshua walked me to the door, gestured with his hand, and waited.
Yup, he was going to stand out there and wait for me. Not a particularly
trusting fellow, I noted as he subtly rested his hand on the gun strapped to
his right hip.
 The interior of the outhouse was exactly what I imagined, a wooden
porta potty. There was a bench with a toilet seat in the middle. When I lifted
it and looked inside, I only saw blackness. It was just a giant hole in the
ground. I had no right to be disgusted since I’d been squatting in the woods
and kicking dirt over my waste, but it still grossed me out. That and I was
slightly afraid I was so skinny I would fall down it.
I had to pee like crazy and yet, once I stepped into that outhouse, my
urge dissipated. Joshua probably couldn’t hear me pee through the door. I
was still terrified at the possibility.
He saw me naked last night. It doesn’t get any worse than that.
I had to think about every waterfall I’d ever seen to overcome my,
um, performance anxiety.
When I was done, I retied my pants, looked around, and realized
there was no way for me to clean my hands. Not even sanitizer. I wrinkled
my nose at them and tucked them into my pockets. Joshua took off back to
the house without even glancing at me when I shouldered the door open.
Inside, Joshua watched me wash my hands in the kitchen sink then
pointed towards the bed again. Did he seriously want me to go back to bed?
The sun was rising. I followed his finger to the nightstand and saw another
mug waiting for me. I nodded my understanding and plopped down on the
bedside. Beside the mug was a toothbrush, a jar of grey powder, and two
little green leaves. I was beginning to feel like I was staying at a bizarre bed
and breakfast.
This isn’t a damn hotel. Okay, big guy. Whatever you say.
I sniffed the mug first. That was the source of the spicy aroma. Two
whole cloves and a slice of apple floated beneath the amber liquid. I sipped
cautiously, unable to hold back a soft moan when I tasted the sweet
cinnamon concoction.
Joshua peeked over his shoulder until I finished everything in the
mug. “Brush with the powder, rinse with water, then chew the leaves. You
can swallow or spit them out.”
I did as he instructed. I had no idea what kind of powder this was but I
had heard of people brushing their teeth with charcoal and this looked
similar. Other than a slight saltiness, there was no taste. It felt weird and
made me drool a lot but it also made my teeth beautifully clean. I couldn’t
remember the last time I brushed my teeth. I’d taken to scraping them with
my fingernails—I know, ew—or abrasive plants.
 I nibbled the edge of one leaf. Spearmint. Not seeing any obvious
place to spit the leaves, I half choked in my attempt to swallow them.
Trying to appear nonchalant while my eyes watered and my throat burned, I
sauntered—no, it was still kind of a wobble—to the kitchen table and took a
seat.
There were two pans on the stove top and a steaming pot. Joshua
was making a feast by the looks of it. He stepped away from the stove to
retrieve a small glass French press from the other counter. On the bottom
was an inch of dark grounds. Was that—no way!
“Are you making coffee?” I gasped as he poured boiling water over
the grounds and covered the press.
“Chicory and dandelion root. No more coffee until next summer.”
He went back to the stove and stirred the other two pans with a wooden
spoon.
“What’s chicory? Wait, until next summer? Where are you going to
get coffee?”
“Chicory is a plant.” Oh, wow, couldn’t have gathered that on my
own. “Coffee grows in one of the greenhouses.”
“You grow coffee?” I asked incredulously.
“Yes.”
“Like they do in Hawaii? And you have a greenhouse? Where? How
big is your farm?”
Joshua gave me that narrow eyed, suspicious scowl. “Why do you
want to know?”
“Um, hello! It’s cool! I didn’t know you could grow your own
coffee. How do you grow your own coffee? Does it grow in a pod? Can I
see it?”
“Maybe.” For every twenty words I spoke, Joshua had one.
He served me a plate of scrambled eggs, sautéed greens cooked with
fresh garlic, a pile of greasy brown vegetables, and more meat like
yesterday’s rabbit. I was so not touching that. Next, he put jam, butter, and a
cute roll the size of my fist by my plate.
The final touch was a mug full of the chicory and dandelion root
drink with a pitcher of milk on the side. It had to be goat milk. It seemed
darker and creamier than what I remembered milk looking like but it was
probably processed differently—if at all—than the skim milk I bought at
the local convenience store for two dollars.
 “Wow, this looks great. I don’t know how to thank you.” Hopefully
this meal doesn’t add too much to my debt. I smiled at him. He sat across
from me and dug into his food without acknowledging me at all. His
mustache moved up and down like a hairy caterpillar crawling across his
lips. I quickly averted my gaze so I didn’t bust into another fit of giggling.
I went to bed feeling quite full after my first real meal in weeks, but
the hunger had returned in full force this morning. Still, it was kind of odd
that I went from running helplessly through the woods to sitting at some
man’s breakfast table with a plate of eggs in front of me. Was it possible I
was dreaming? Could I be lying unconscious on the forest floor somewhere
and making this all up?
I took a hesitant bite of scrambled eggs. A little too salty but that
should be proof this wasn’t a fantasy, right? If it was, I would have dreamed
up French toast with powdered sugar and a latte loaded with whipped cream
instead.
Another bite. Suddenly I was halfway through the plate. The greasy
brown stuff turned out to be mushrooms. I devoured them. The garlic
greens too. I practically scraped every crumb of food off the plate. Except
for the meat.
Joshua looked up from his meal and raised his eyebrows when he
saw how much I’d eaten. His plate was still half full, though he did have a
much bigger serving than me. His eyebrows quickly sunk when he saw the
meat on the edge of my plate. I smiled politely and tapped my fingers on
the table. He made a loud noise that he might have intended as a sigh—it
sounded more like a growl—and he leaned over, stabbed the meat rather
aggressively, and ate my portion.
After my plate was clear I fixed my mug of…tea? Chicory
whatever. I added a splash of milk and stirred with a clean spoon from a
pile of utensils Joshua put on the table. He noticed and slid a jar of honey in
my direction, which I gladly added to the mug. If this was meant to replace
coffee, it failed. It was better than I expected—rich, slightly bitter, full
bodied—but left me craving a cup of coffee even more than when I started
drinking.
It should have been awkward to sit at a stranger’s breakfast table. It
wasn’t. The silence wasn’t heavy or tense. When I felt the need to fill it, I
did so with more eating. I reached for a roll, broke it in half, and was about
to scoop some jam onto it when Joshua shoved the butter at me.
 “No offense, I’m sure you put a lot of hard work into your butter,
but I don’t really like it. Goat milk is kind of weird.”
Apparently, he wasn’t offering. “No bread without butter.”
“Oh? Is that like your house rule?”
“You won’t eat meat and you need fat. Butter.” He explained
through a mouthful of food.
“The food was greasy. I’m sure I got plenty of fat.”
He snatched the bread from my hand, smeared a ridiculous amount
of butter on it, and handed it back to me. I took it from him with a pout. I
considered leaving the bread on my plate and refusing to eat it out of spite
but considering that just yesterday I was fainting due to lack of food, I
decided I shouldn’t be ungrateful. Who knew how many more meals I
might get after this?
Joshua finished eating, sipped thoughtfully from his mug, and
resumed his staring.
“What?” I asked with a little more snap to my tone than I intended.
He took another long sip before responding. “You’ve got no one
looking for you?”
“Not that I know of.”
“And nowhere you were going?”
“I told you, east. And even that wasn’t working out so well since I
had no compass and map.” I admitted.
“Alright.”
“If you put just a few more words into your sentences it would be much
easier to communicate with you.” He didn’t like my recommendation.
“You can wash your clothes outside after breakfast. It’s raining so
no point in putting a line up. There’s a stand on the porch. Set it up by the
fire.”
“Okay.” I pinched my lips together and nodded.
“I’ve got work to do. Come back in when you’re done washing up.”
He ordered, rising from the table and taking both plates with him.
“And do what?”
“Rest.”
“I’m not tired.”
“Doesn’t matter. You’re weak.”
That was that. Joshua cleared the table, rinsed the dishes, and left
me sitting there to contemplate why he wasn’t telling me to pack my bag
and be on my way. As soon as he was done in the kitchen he tugged on his
boots and opened the front door. The dog, Kuna, jumped up from her spot
on the rug and bolted through the doorway after him.
I should have demanded to know why he was helping me. I should
have asked what he wanted in exchange for this…I wasn’t sure I could call
it kindness. Joshua didn’t have the demeanor of a person that did nice things
for the sake of being nice. Saving my life was way more than nice.
Following it up by clothing, cleaning, and feeding me?
Seemed like the kind of thing a person did to put you in their favor.
Darn, when did I become so cynical? I wanted to believe people were good,
inherently so. Maybe they could be, even if their scary murderer scowls
didn’t reflect it.
I gave up thinking too hard about my presence in Joshua’s home and
did as he suggested. Now that I was clean, I could see—and smell—how
awful my clothes were. I carried my armful outside and found a big metal
bucket and a washboard on the porch. A real life washboard. Maybe Joshua
was Amish and he just made an exception for the fridge? Otherwise, why
did he have all this pioneer stuff? He didn’t seem like he was dirt poor.
Solar panels and handguns weren’t usually signs of poverty.
I pondered it more as I brought the rest of the hot water from the
stove outside and poured it over my clothes. There was a tub of powder that
I assumed was soap. I sprinkled a very generous amount over my clothes
and mixed it around with my hands. I had to pause for a breather afterward.
Yes, pushing my clothes around in a bucket of water made my heart pound
and my head spin. At least it kept me from getting too cold.
My jeans were caked with dirt, my shirts had sweat and berry stains,
and my underwear—yeah, I won’t even go there. It was pretty gnarly. Once
they were done soaking, I grabbed the washboard and stared helplessly at it
for almost a minute. I’d seen people use them in movies. It seemed simple
in theory. I gave up on trying to figure out the best way and just rubbed the
crotch of my underwear along the metal. It was an awkward motion for me,
and I kept dropping clothes but eventually, I found a rhythm.
I repeated the process with everything, pausing between each
garment to rest. Even the slightest exertion had my heart racing. The
scrubbing was hard on the arms too.
When I was finished, I lugged the laundry stand inside along with
my clothes. I set the clothes up on the stand, placed two logs on the hot
ashes from the last fire, and searched the surrounding area for matches.
When I didn’t find any by the fireplace, I took my search into the kitchen.
Joshua came through the door right as I was opening a drawer by the stove.
“What are you doing?” He snarled.
“Oh, sorry, I was just looking for matches.”
“Matches?”
“For the fire.” I pointed uselessly at the fireplace, feeling like I’d
been caught doing something much worse than looking for fire starting
supplies.
He stomped over to the hearth, not bothering to remove his boots
and tracking mud all over the floor. He knelt beside the fire and lifted a
rectangular black stone. “You didn’t see this?”
“How am I supposed to start a fire with a rock? I thought that only
worked in cartoons.”
“You’re helpless.” Joshua stuffed bark shavings under the logs, held
the stone over the fireplace, and rubbed a piece of metal along it. A spray of
sparks flew from the stone.
I rolled my eyes. “Well excuse me! Not everyone lives like Laura
Ingalls Wilder.”
He stopped his hurried fire-making to stare up at me, almost
seeming surprised. Then he realized we were making eye contact—
apparently that was not something he was fond of—and Joshua quickly
finished his task. He waved at the fireplace, somehow managing to make
the simple gesture appear belittling and irritated all at once. Thankfully he
left before I was tempted to make another sarcastic remark.
Well, at least he’s only a jerk and not a serial killer. I thought, but
not before giving the secret door a wary look. Or at least I’m not his type if
he is a serial killer.
I didn’t have anything else to do now that my clothes were clean. I
gave the bookshelf a cursory scan, hoping the books that Joshua read might
give me a hint about what kind of person he was. Most books had the word
botany, permaculture, or agriculture in the title. A handful were about
wildlife and one had a complicated science-y title that translated to “how to
tell the weather without a weather app.”
If I decided I wanted to take a nap and couldn’t fall asleep, I would
pick one of those up for a read and would instantly be cured of my waking
state.
 A nosier person would have snooped in Joshua’s absence. There
were a lot of unanswered questions about him and his lifestyle and I
suspected he wouldn’t be terribly forthcoming. Even the idea felt wrong.
He’d done a lot for me and I wasn’t planning on repaying him by digging
through his drawers. He trusted me alone in here, after all. He even left
kitchen knives out in plain view on the counter. I took that as a show of
faith.
We were both taking a risk with even our miniscule amount of trust.
Every part of my story could have been a lie. Any of the few details he gave
me about himself could also be untrue. Once upon a time I probably
wouldn’t have even considered that. I had no reason not to trust people
before.
Now, people were snakes. Their motivations were rarely clear and
when they were, they were rarely good. At any moment they might rise
from the grass and strike at you.
Actually, if I really thought about it, people had always been snakes
and I had always been far too trusting for my own good. I wanted to think
the best of people, to see the good in them. I couldn’t afford to do that
anymore.
I wasn’t doing that with Joshua, was I? Did I already trust him
without grasping what I was getting myself into by accepting his help?
I sat on the edge of the bed and looked to the door where he
thundered through fifteen minutes earlier. Only twenty-four hours had
passed since he brought me back here. Was it possible he was only waiting
for me to regain a bit of strength before making a move?
I snorted. What kind of move? He’s more likely to break me up and
use me as tinder than he is to touch me.
I stretched out on the bed and stared up at the ceiling, which was
about as entertaining as reading about growing seasons in the Pacific
Northwest. I didn’t think I was tired until I woke to the sound of heavy
boots on the porch. Joshua stood in the doorway, scanned the room until he
found me on the mattress, then left again.
This repeated every hour for much of the day. He must have been
timing himself because I was counting too and each time sixty minutes
passed, he would return. That schedule was interrupted twice when he
escorted me to the bathroom—which didn’t make me feel like a prisoner at
all—and once when he came in to eat lunch. He insisted I eat as well.
 Joshua and Kuna returned for the last time as the sun was setting,
pretty late since I was fairly certain it was still summer. He carried in a
chunky basket that he set on the table before kicking his muddy boots off.
No wonder it was dirty in here. He didn’t bother shaking the rain off his
coat either. I waited until he was finished removing his gear—and until the
dog had wandered over to the fireplace and sprawled out on the rug—
before rising from the bed and tiptoeing to the table to peek inside the
basket.
I was a little nosy.
“Cold?” Joshua noticed goosebumps on my forearms when I rolled
up extra long sleeves. I nodded. “More rain coming tomorrow. It’s not
getting any warmer. You got anything better than this jacket?” He asked as
he moved the laundry stand so he could get the fire going again. That was
the most I’d heard from him since breakfast.
My olive green jacket hung limply on the corner of the stand. It was
an early birthday gift to myself the first fall I moved to Washington.
Everyone warned me about the rain but I thought they were exaggerating. It
was polyester and fairly thin, so it didn’t provide much in the way of
warmth. It was also supposed to be water resistant but I’d found that after
an hour in continuous rain, it resisted zero moisture. It looked good with a
pair of black skinny jeans and pumps though.
“No. That’s all.” I collected my clothes from the stand and dumped
them on the bed to fold. They were crunchy and stiff but at least they were
clean.
Joshua passed me on his way to the chest of drawers by the bed. His
shadow pooled over me, blocking out the light from the fire. He was such a
big person and not just because he was unusually tall. There was a weight to
his presence, a potent self-assurance that came effortlessly to him.
I spent my life around my father and men like him; confident,
clever, well-spoken, and assertive. Men who considered themselves alpha
males. They were the type of people who took what they wanted in
calculated moves. None of them carried themselves like Joshua did. They
were hot air balloons, powered by overinflated egos. It didn’t take much to
make them fall from the sky.
I got the feeling it would take a lot to make Joshua fall. He was
solidly on the ground.
The middle drawer of his dresser squeaked when he yanked it open and
pulled out a faded blue flannel. He tossed it onto the bed next to my folded
laundry. “That’ll do for now.”
The fleece lined shirt was way too big for me but it was cozy and it
smelled of smoky pine and cloves. I wanted to change into my own clothes
but once again I was faced with the privacy issue. The whole house was
condensed into one room. I had nowhere to go where Joshua wouldn’t see
me. Modest wasn’t an option.
“I’m getting dressed.” I kept as casual and confident a tone as I
could muster. He was already at the hearth. I had to assume that his back
being turned was acknowledgement of my warning.
My hands shook as I yanked Joshua’s tent of a shirt off my
shoulders and quickly fastened my bra. I tugged on leggings so fast I almost
fell over. Relief only came once I was in my own clothes.
Being underweight already made me feel like I had the body of a
child. Wearing huge men’s clothing that hid the few womanly features I had
didn’t help. I was much more comfortable in the freshly laundered leggings
and magenta tank top. The pink didn’t go with my borrowed blue flannel at
all but warm was better than matching.
The basket Joshua brought in was full of vegetables. There were
hard yellow squashes with green stripes, heads of broccoli, cucumbers,
tomatoes, carrots, beets, kale and a cabbage. I was thoroughly impressed,
which I made sure to voice. His answer—which I was beginning to believe
was the only response he was capable of—was to grunt.
He roasted most of the veggies with butter and some herb he picked
from a pot on the windowsill above the sink. I hadn’t noticed the six pots
perched behind the curtain. There was basil—that one I recognized for sure
—and maybe cilantro. Or parsley, I could never tell the difference without
tasting them.
The breakfast Joshua cooked was good. The dinner was delicious. I
wouldn’t admit it to him but it was a lot better than what I expected him to
eat. I can’t say why I pictured him eating hunks of meat for every meal but I
was glad that he didn’t.
“How long have you lived out here?” I waited until he was distracted by
food to begin prying again.
“Long time.”
“When did you decide to become a farmer?”
 “I didn’t.”
“Are you from Washington?”
He answered with a fork in his mouth so the “yes” came out muffled
by food.
“Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
“Why are you asking so many questions?” He grumbled.
“I’m trying to make our conversation less one-sided. If I don’t ask a
question, you don’t talk.” I hid the tremor that the gruff snap of his voice
startled out of me with a shrug.
“Sounds like you’re gathering information.”
“Yeah, you said that already. What do you think I’m going to do,
steal your identity? I could hardly pass as you.”
His dark eyes burned into me. I met his challenging gaze, still
shaking. “Or figure out what I’ve got going on here and let your raider
buddies know.”
“Seriously?” The accusation was so absurd that I let out a deep belly
laugh. It was his turn to be startled. Good.
“What’s wrong with you?” Joshua masked surprise with his
trademark frown.
“You should really stop asking that. It’s not very nice.”
“I’m not nice.”
“Thanks for dinner.” I said as a subtle disagreement. He was nice
enough to cook for me. The laughter lingered on my face and I gave him a
very wide, genuine smile. It made him so uncomfortable that he returned
his attention to his plate with sharp jerk of his head.
The silence stretched on and my good humor began to wane. I
paused my eating, twirling a piece of squash in a pool of butter. “What did
you mean when you asked about me being, ugh, bait?”
He stopped mid chew, studying me. “You really just ran into those
fuckers yesterday?”
“Yes.”
“It’s a tactic raiders use sometimes.” He swallowed. “Sending
helpless women, sometimes kids, to lure folks in. A woman begging for
help is a good distraction.”
“And when you asked if I was,” I choked on the word, “willing?”
“I don’t reckon most women in raider groups want to be there. Men who
go around robbing and maiming don’t make good company.”
 I set my fork down on my plate. “That’s awful, really awful.”
“That’s the world now.” He kept eating, unfazed.
A thought struck me. “How do you know so much about raiders?
There can’t be that many all the way out here.” My voice rose an octave
with cautious hope. Maybe the men that chased me yesterday weren’t
raiders at all, just two travelers with bad intentions.
“I hear things.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Hear things where?”
He mirrored my expression. “You ask too many questions.”
“And you don’t answer enough of them!” I immediately snapped my
mouth shut, fearing my raised voice would finally draw a reaction from
him. I tried to justify myself. “You’re the first person I’ve talked to in...I
don’t know how long. I don’t know anything. I don’t know the state of the
world anymore.”
“It’s as bad as it gets out there.” Joshua’s voice was steady. He kept
scraping food from his plate without so much as twitching at my outburst.
I breathed out an imperceptible sigh. “And in here?”
“Same as it ever was.” I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing based
on the way he said it.
When Joshua didn’t say anything else, I decided to try lightening the
mood with more friendly conversation. “Well, I’m from Texas. Dallas, to be
specific. That always surprises people since I don’t say y’all or anything
like that. My parents are East Coasters who moved to Houston for work
before I came into their lives. They don’t really have accents either. I
moved here two years ago for school. It was pretty scary, at first. I love
cities but coming to a new one all alone was overwhelming. I was barely
adjusted to life on the west coast when the blackout happened.”
He glanced up at me but still said nothing. I paused to take a few
bites of food before adding “I’ve never been on a farm. I saw plenty of
them as a kid but it was mostly corn fields and feed lots. Those always
made me sad. That’s why I became a vegetarian. Do you take good care of
your animals?”
“Hmm.” I assumed that was meant to be a “yes.”
“So, you were farming all day? That’s why you were gone?” Asking
if he was “farming” was a stupid question and based on the look he gave
me, he agreed. I couldn’t think of a more specific one. What did I know
about what farming entailed?
 “Yes.”
“How much food do you grow?”
“Plenty.”
“Is this like a farm-farm or just a hobby farm?”
Another “are you stupid?” look but he answered anyway. “I don’t
grow commercially, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“I suppose even if you did, that wouldn’t matter now. It’s not like
there’s a farmer’s market down the road.”
Joshua cocked his head and his face twisted into an odd look.
Perhaps that was meant to be a joke. I never found out. After my last
comment he stood, tidied up the kitchen—not as thoroughly as I would
have—and started boiling water for tea.
I wrinkled my nose when he brewed another cup of the pungent
stuff from the night before and expected irritation. Instead, his face relaxed
just a hint and there was a flash of something—dare I say—friendly in his
eyes. I tried wrinkling my nose again but he only gave a slight shake of his
head and finished the tea off with a spoonful of honey. I wasn’t sure if that
added sweetness made it better or worse.
He handed me the mug, pointed to the bed, and retreated to his chair
by the fire. Feeling brave, I ignored his command and carried the hot drink
to the neighboring chair, carefully balancing it as I sat. Joshua and the dog
both turned to give me matching glowers.
I cleared my throat. “I’m very grateful for everything you’ve done for
me.” I gulped too much tea, the liquid burning all the way from my tongue
to my stomach. When I’d composed myself as much as I was going to, I
continued with, “If you’ll point me toward the nearest road or town, I can
be out of your hair by sunup. I’d like to keep going east.”
“East through the cascades?”
“Mhmm.”
Joshua was incredulous. “On the cusp of autumn?”
“Yup.” Not that I’d known just how close autumn was.
“You’ve got a month before you hit snow. Maybe less.”
“I’ll walk fast.”
“And eat what?”
I was getting to the point where I felt he was poking holes in my
plan because he thought he knew better, not because he was genuinely
concerned for my safety. “Look, Joshua, I appreciate your help, but I’m not
stupid.” I tucked my feet under my legs and faced him. “Nothing comes for
free anymore and I don’t know if I can pay whatever debt it is I’m accruing
by staying here.”
The silence that followed was a lead weight on my chest. Somehow,
Joshua’s dark gaze managed to feel even heavier. It broke through my ribs
and seared my lungs, making them struggle to suck in air. I’d never met
someone so intense. Every expression, every twitch of his jaw muscle,
every shift in his heavy brows, felt like it was done with this terrifying
ferocity.
Watching him—and being watched by him—was akin to watching a
predatory animal. There was no movement that didn’t display the lethality
he was capable of. For all that it was frightening, it was also mesmerizing.
“What do you think I want from you?”
I squirmed, not wanting to give an answer that he would agree with.
“I-I don’t know.”
“Maybe you’re not the one with debts to pay.”
A sip of tea slipped down my throat, then another. Finally, I blurted,
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Penance.”
That cleared exactly nothing up for me. Did that mean he was
helping me to ease his own conscience? To get back in God’s good graces?
What spiritual debts did he have to pay that warranted giving up his living
space and resources to a stranger? That was a heck of an imbalance on the
karmic scales.
“I don’t understand.”
“Go to bed.” He jerked his chin to the corner of the room. “You’re
safe here.”
I hadn’t realized that I obeyed him until I was sitting on the edge of
the mattress, hands cupped around my rapidly cooling mug.
You’re safe here. It had to be a lie. I wasn’t safe anywhere, hadn’t
been since the blackout. Safety was an illusion and Joshua was as much a
snake as anyone, coiled in my path, camouflaged as something innocuous.
But God, did I want to believe him. He was so sure of everything he
did, so competent and capable and…safe. Whatever and whoever Joshua
might be, he felt safe. He made me feel safe.
And that was the most dangerous part of all.
[Link]
 6
Handmade Isolation

It was mid-August when Joshua found me. That meant, much to my

surprise and his, I survived on my own for almost five months. I felt like I’d
lost time. Those five months were blended together in a haze of panic and
hunger. I was like some nomadic animal, scavenging as I went.
Joshua requested—or demanded depending on how you chose to
interpret his tone—that I tell him the whole story of my survival, from the
day of the blackout until the moment I fell at his feet.
None of the movies I watched about the end of days prepared me for
the reality of what I saw before I left Seattle. No one wanted to think about
what a hospital looked like when they finally ran out of fuel for their
generators. No one wanted to describe the smell of death that hung heavy in
the air when they carted body after body to the cemetery, dumping them in
a mass grave with none of the respect our dead used to receive.
I hadn’t realized how truly selfish I was in the beginning. I’d
thought the worst a blackout did was make it impossible for us to charge
our cell phones and cause all of the chocolate ice cream to melt. If I’d really
given it some thought I might have considered that one or two brain dead
people plugged in at a hospital would pass away without electricity. Tragic
but probably inevitable.
There were so many technologies I never had to bother with, so many
intricate systems that kept people healthy and fed and safe. Without power,
people began dying from simple ailments. Some of them passed from
exposure to elements. It didn’t matter that most of them were elderly. They
were people and less ignorance and carelessness might have saved their
lives.
And altruism. We could all use a little more altruism in the end of
the world.
Joshua started that discussion three weeks ago. I knew for certain
this time because I was careful to keep track of the days. I didn’t go as far
as ticking them off in notches on the wall. That would only make me feel
more like a prisoner. Joshua wasn’t holding me captive, necessarily. He
never said I couldn’t pack up and leave. He was just being secretive,
hovering around me when I went anywhere besides the kitchen.
He had goats and greenhouses and plenty more but all I saw was
whatever was visible between the porch and the outhouse. I took in as much
as I could during those bathroom visits but the property was quite large.
Joshua was also not too keen on answering questions. Both the woodshed
and the house had thick solar panels covering the roofs. I’d heard rumors
about state governments rushing to install solar technology on essential
buildings like hospitals but they’d never been confirmed.
Apparently solar power worked just fine. Joshua’s only comment on the
matter was the anyone who blamed the blackout on an EMP was a moron,
though his word was much harsher. The blackout wasn’t exactly a blackout
after all. Did that mean the rumors about abundant wind energy in the east
were true too? I wouldn’t know until I saw for myself, if I ever made it that
far.
A week into my stay I noticed a fence through the trees beyond the
garden space. There were metal posts that caught the late summer sunlight
in a dull glitter. It was a very tall fence made of very thick wood. More like
a wall, really.
The garden visible from the porch was much more intricate than I’d
initially noted. Huge stones carved winding paths that twisted through
clusters of green. The river rock raised beds each had a different shape and
housed different varieties of plants. I couldn’t discern any type of order to
where each plant was placed but there had to be one. Joshua wasn’t the
most organized and tidy person in his home but in his garden, he was
meticulous.
I didn’t recognize much of what was growing beyond the apple trees
that were loaded with pink and yellow fruit. Even then I only identified
them because the apples were a dead giveaway. Maybe if I asked nice
enough he would let me pick a few. After three weeks of doing nothing but
eating, napping, and flipping through plant books, I was slowly going mad
with cabin fever.
Joshua sensed it before I ever voiced my frustration. For someone
who lived alone in the wilderness, he was very intuitive about people. I told
him that once and got a snort that I think was a laugh of sorts. It wasn’t an
inaccurate assessment, though. On day twenty-one he wordlessly carried
our breakfast plates and a little white fold out table onto the porch.
 The sun was never up when Joshua was—which he made sure was also
when I got up by creating a concert of clattering sounds in the kitchen—but
it made breakfast on the porch that much more spectacular. We couldn’t
actually see the sunrise because of the tree line. That didn’t mean the view
wasn’t breathtaking. The sky turned a pale shade of pink and washed the
green and brown world in that same delicate color.
“Beautiful view you have out here.” I murmured as I sipped my tea,
knees tucked to my full belly, a wool blanket wrapped around my
shoulders.
Joshua gave me one of those long, quiet looks that I was slowly
growing accustomed to. “Yup.”
That day I sat on the porch without so much as a wary glance from
him. I watched as he carefully walked the stone paths between plants,
touching and plucking leaves, clearing soil with his hands, raking wood
chips, and shoveling compost from a wheelbarrow. I had no idea what he
was doing and why but I was fascinated regardless.
Eventually he retrieved a basket and got to work picking eggplant,
butternut squash, carrots, celery, broccoli, cabbage—there was way too
much of it and I was beginning to feel like a rabbit—and beets. I hadn’t
gotten over how impressed I was by the amount of food he grew or the ease
with which he seemed to do it. It was definitely a full-time job but it looked
like one he enjoyed.
Joshua disappeared around the side of the shack when he was
finished with his garden chores. I was extremely tempted to follow him but
this porch sitting was my probation and I wanted to prove I was
trustworthy. He seemed to finally be confident that I wasn’t going to kill
him in his sleep or make off in the night to tell a pack of raiders where his
farm was. That was about all the trust I got and I was eager for more.
I retrieved a book on wild edibles from inside and occupied my
mind for an hour or so, studying some of the pages Joshua bookmarked for
me. My curiosity finally got the best of me when I heard a rhythmic
cracking.
I skulked around the side of the house where I knew the woodshed
was. Joshua was beside it, giant axe in his hands and his flannel discarded
so that he wore only a filthy white t-shirt. There was a round stump in front
of him with a smaller log in the center of it. He lifted the axe over his head
and swung it down so hard I swore the ground shook beneath my feet. I was
cemented to the spot, frozen in a state of awe.
Chopping wood had to be the manliest thing I’d ever seen.
There was another reason I caught myself appreciating it that I was
much less comfortable with. My gazed followed the round of Joshua’s
biceps as he brought the axe down again and suddenly my throat was bone
dry. Somehow, I hadn’t noticed how strong he was.
I mean, duh, he was strong, but I hadn’t been paying attention to the
shape of him. It was impossible not to feel his size. He took up all of the
surrounding space when he was near me. Beyond that I was only
peripherally aware of his body. I spent most of my time studying his face,
judging his expressions, differentiating his frowns from his scowls, trying to
catch humor in his chocolate eyes.
I didn’t miss his shape now. It was a strong body, indeed.
He replaced the log and swung to split it three more times before
pausing to wipe sweat from his brow. I didn’t have time to react—and
probably would have been too embarrassed to run away like a startled
squirrel—when he spotted me standing there and lowered his axe. My brain
jumped between thinking of an excuse for staring at him and justifying
myself for leaving the porch, preparing my defense for the inevitable anger.
It never came. Instead he nodded in greeting and waved me over.
I hooked my pointer fingers together behind my back and
approached like a misbehaving child expecting a scolding. That did make
Joshua’s brow fall, puzzled by my slumped shoulders and downcast eyes. I
guess it didn’t occur to him that spending almost a month with someone
who behaved like an ornery cat created certain expectations. Sometimes he
was nice—in a very subtle, unspoken way—but most times he acted as if I
was a nuisance.
Maybe because he was helping me out of some misplaced guilt? I
still hadn’t gotten a reasonable explanation out of him.
“Better?” He asked when I was within earshot.
“Huh?”
“Fresh air.”
I was convinced that he was unclear on purpose to make it harder
for me to talk to him. Joshua wasn’t much of a conversationalist. “Oh, you
mean do I feel better now that I’m not cooped up inside? Heck yes!”
 My enthusiasm pleased him, I think. “You know where it goes?”
Ah, onto the next unclear question.
“Where what goes?”
He stooped to pick up four of the smallest logs and a handful of thin
slivers for kindling. When he held them out it took me a few seconds to
grasp that he wanted me to carry them. Despite my delayed reaction, there
was still no impatience. I stretched both arms out and let him stack the logs
on my forearms. They were heavier than I anticipated—or my upper body
was weaker than I expected—and my arms dipped down before I steadied
myself.
Joshua gave a satisfied nod when I didn’t drop the wood, then jerked his
head in the direction of the shack with a “Let’s go, Squirrel” to prod me
forward.
He followed me with the rest of the logs. His load was significantly
bigger and heavier than mine but by the time we reached the porch he
passed me, breezing through the door with an annoying lack of effort. My
breathing picked up a little and yet, as I handed the logs to him to stack by
the fireplace, I noticed that my heart wasn’t racing in that fluttering, too
much caffeine kind of way it had a few weeks ago. I couldn’t hold back a
smile.
Joshua looked up at me from his crouched position for a breath,
maybe two. That was a first. Usually he ducked his head, as if the sight of
happiness made him lose his appetite.
Not an ornery cat. I thought. Just a skittish one.

“Hungry?” I sat up like a zombie rising from the grave when

Joshua’s rough voice rumbled through a dream and woke me. It had to be
hours after I settled into bed for a “quick” nap because the light coming
through the windows was dim and Joshua already had the stove lit for
dinner.
I rubbed sleep from my eyes. “Sorry.”
“Not an answer.”
“You never answer my questions so I guess we’re even.” I climbed out
of bed and slipped into my borrowed flannel.
“You’re eating.”
My tease came out on a yawn. “Yes, sir.” His lack of response was
my cue. “Can I help?”
 “Sit.”
“That’s a ‘no’ then?” I shuffled to the table and pulled out the chair
furthest from the stove.
Kuna noticed me moving across the room and got to her feet but
didn’t come any closer. She didn’t like me any more than when I got here
but she had finally learned that it wasn’t cool to stalk me like prey. She still
growled occasionally but it didn’t scare me as much as it used to. I stayed
out of her way and she—with a little nudge from Joshua—stayed out of
mine.
Joshua didn’t say anything else. That didn’t stop me from talking. This
was part of our routine. During meals—and any other time we were
together, really—I would do my best to strike up a conversation. Usually he
would ignore me.
At first I kept it light, sharing basic personal information and asking
the same of him. He was rarely forthcoming, but I got a word or two out of
him. Those one sided discussions about myself got boring so I tried
bringing up movies and TV shows. I’d never seen him look more irritated
than when I mentioned the first season of Game of Thrones.
Eventually, I started doing whatever I could think of that might
amuse him which included self-deprecating humor, quoting what little
Shakespeare I knew, making up wild stories about my months on the road,
and laughing hysterically at his mustache when he ate. I figured if he wasn’t
evil then he had to have a sense of humor. So far, I hadn’t gotten more than
a snort. I was successfully amusing myself though and that alone was
enough to motivate me.
Joking was a great way to cope with the feelings that left me almost
catatonic the first week I was here. Under the safety of Joshua’s care, with
food and shelter in abundance, I finally relaxed. Relaxing meant my brain
eased out of the constant adrenaline push for survival. Suddenly I had time
to think and there were plenty of things I’d rather not have thought about.
The full weight of not just the last few months but the last year hit me like a
tidal wave.
Violence. Death. Fear. I felt all of it fresh and raw. I recalled the bus
and the raiders that murdered—and probably did other unspeakable acts—
to everyone I left behind. I’d replayed that memory before but in a strange,
distant way. It was a mental warning to myself: That could have been me. It
was how I kept moving when I was too hungry, too tired, and too sick of
being alone. I used all of those people—good people, kind people—as a
lesson to teach myself consequences and I felt sick about it.
Those thoughts provoked thoughts of my parents. What fate did they
meet? Were they ravaged by violent people who wanted what they had? Did
they have what it took to survive in Dallas? There were friends and
acquaintances that crossed my mind too. My friends back home, people
from my classes, my roommates. I even thought of the old man with the
Yorkie who lived across the street from my rental house. So many faces that
I might never see again. Voices that would never say my name again.
It was almost more than I could take. Almost. I saw, bore witness to
all of those that didn’t make it, prayed for them, and then I pushed them
away. They were dead. I couldn’t change that. I was alive. I wanted to be
alive. I wanted to be happy to be alive and that wasn’t possible if I let my
heart be ruled by ghosts.
I was dozing upright when Joshua dropped utensils on the table. His
steadying hand on my chair was the only reason I didn’t topple backwards
when the noise startled me.
“Thank you.” I murmured both for saving me from knocking my
chair over and for the plate of food he put in front of me. Gratitude made
Joshua uncomfortable but I offered it to him regardless. I was grateful to
him. He was the reason I was sitting here.
The first few minutes of dinner were spent in silence. The nap I’d
taken earlier wasn’t one of those short, energy boosting naps. It was the
kind where you wake up feeling significantly more tired than when you
went to sleep and nothing you do will rouse you completely. Joshua
occasionally stopped eating to watch me—I don’t know why he did that—
but I didn’t give him any of my usual pouts or even wrinkle my nose. That
required more effort than I could muster.
“I am.” He suddenly said.
I lowered a forkful of roasted squash and cocked my head at him.
“You are?”
“Alone.”
“Unless I’m a ghost and you see dead people Sixth Sense style,
you’re wrong. I’m right here.” I guess I did have the energy for a little
sarcasm.
“Out here.”
“More words please.”
 “You asked if it was just me out here. It is. It was me and my pops.
Now it’s just me.” He didn’t look up from his plate or stop eating as he
explained, but that gravelly tone of his voice thickened even more,
betraying some unidentifiable emotion.
I was tempted to point out that one, I inquired about that almost a
month ago and he was very late to respond and two, I already knew that. It
was pretty obvious that he didn’t have anyone else out here—unless he kept
his cannibalistic monster of a brother in that secret room—but he never told
me if it had always been that way. It wasn’t as if he kept family photos on
the wall. I kind of assumed he bought or built this place with the intention
of being alone.
“I’m sorry. About your dad.”
Joshua gave a half shrug in acknowledgment but didn’t say anything
else. I opened my mouth to add more, worried that my reaction to his
confession was clumsy, when he spoke again. “Pops inherited the farm but
it was just a hunting shack in the woods then. He built the house by the
creek and expanded from there.”
“Your dad built this?” I waved my fork around the kitchen. “And
you have a creek?”
“Yeah. The woodshed too. I helped him build the rest.” Still no eye
contact. “The creek runs along the north side of the property. On sunny days
you can see it from the outhouse. I’ll show you tomorrow.”
“Where did he learn to do all of that? Did you grow up out here?” I
kept my tone innocent. He was finally answering my questions and I didn’t
want him to shut down because I was too inquisitive.
“Taught himself, mostly. And yeah, I did.”
“You’ve lived a very unique life.”
“It’s nothin’ special.”
“I grew up with the twinkling lights of buildings instead of stars. My
morning started with the hum of car engines during rush hour traffic. And
I’m pretty sure if I put my hands in the dirt like you did today, my mother
would have made me take a bath. To me, your life is like an alternate
universe.”
Joshua finally gave me his gaze. It was a cautious look, head tilted
down, brown eyes raised in…surprise? Or bewilderment? None of the
expressions I’d seen him make before were quite like this.
“You’re not.”
 “Not what?”
“Alone out here.” I smiled around a bite of eggplant. “You have
me.”
I got another of those long, contemplative stares. With his mouth
full, he said, “You talk too much.”
“And you don’t talk enough. Between the two of us, we can almost
make a normal conversation.”
The only other words uttered at the table that evening were under
Joshua’s breath. They sounded vaguely like “damn woman and her damn
talking.” I decided not to take it personally.
While grumpy-pants washed the dishes, I tip toed into the living room
to soak up a little extra heat by the fire. Kuna was already in her favorite
spot on the rug. When she saw me coming, she rolled to her feet and
growled.
I widened my stance and squared my shoulders. She never lunged at
me with the intention of biting but I wouldn’t put it past her to try,
especially with Joshua’s attention fixed elsewhere. I wasn’t going to let her
bad attitude rule me anymore than I would let his. With a deep inhale for
bravery, I sauntered past the dog and to the chair that sat adjacent to
Joshua’s. The guttural vibration grew in volume and ferocity but she never
moved from her spot.
I glanced over my shoulder to see if Joshua was watching before
sticking my tongue out at her.
Kuna stood, fur bristling and eyes blazing for about five minutes
before giving up and settling back on the rug. I snuggled deeper into the
chair, enjoying the heat on my face. I got so caught up in the light that I
didn’t notice Joshua come up beside my chair until his shadow stretched
across the room. I bolted up, almost knocking the cup of tea out of his
outstretched hand.
The noise he made this time was only a quiet huff but it betrayed his
near-constant annoyance. He put the mug in my hand with a brisk motion
and grunted “chamomile.”
“Thanks.” I whispered.
This was one of those subtle nice gestures. Several evenings ago, I
mentioned that I was beginning to enjoy the taste of chamomile and every
evening since he brewed that instead of the pungent concoction that helped
me sleep. I watched him drop into his chair, his own mug dwarfed by his
meaty hands. Steam billowed up around his fire-lit face, adding even
sharper edges to his already hard features.
Joshua had the potential to be scary. Scratch that, Joshua was scary.
At least, until you spent an evening in his living room, listening to him
correct your Shakespeare misquotes—how did he know Shakespeare?—
while sipping chamomile. Such an enigmatic man.
The absurdity of it—of my whole situation, really—was so
ridiculous that an unbidden snort of laughter escaped before I could
swallow it. Maybe I was dead and this was all some bizarre afterlife.
Joshua absorbed my laughter with feline focus. I was an unknown to
him and he was just as busy trying to figure me out as I was trying to solve
the mystery of him. His face softened when our gazes met, his eyes
warming to rich chocolate.
The laughter died down but my grin stayed. There were a few short
seconds of eye contact, just like earlier when we were stacking wood,
before he abruptly turned away. My lips held their curve between sips of tea
until the mug was empty and my eyelids were heavy.
I see you, Joshua.

[Link]
 7
Thunder

There was a time where I took two showers a day. My roommates

would get furious with me for hogging the bathroom in the morning but it
was the best part of my routine. Even after working a closing shift I would
wake up early enough to squeeze in that shower before all the hot water was
gone. Some people like a cup of coffee first thing in the morning. I liked a
steamy shower.
Emphasis on the liked. Showers, like most good things, were in the
past.
Bright side? Hot water was not. Boiling bath water wasn’t an easy
task on a wood burning stove but it was worth it for the luxury. That was
Joshua’s word for it, of course. He and I had very different definitions of
luxury.
It took me three days to convince him to let me take a hot bath.
Filling the trough required a lot of water and even more energy to heat it.
Every time I brought it up, he suggested hot water and a cloth. Or torture.
Okay, apparently his method was good for you and Scandinavian
people seemed to love it but just because I looked Swedish didn’t mean I
was down for an ice bath. I might have been exaggerating a wee little bit
when I called it that, seeing as it was only just autumn and the water
wasn’t that cold, but my opinion still stood. I’d had enough stripping down
in frozen creeks for one lifetime.
Joshua didn’t share my sentiment. He never divulged much
information about himself but every once and a while he would drop a tidbit
like the fact that he’d never taken a hot shower and didn’t feel he was
missing out on anything.
“Never? Not even one of those outdoor showers they have at
campsites and public pools?”
“Nope.”
“What about a bath?”
“I bathed in one of these a few times when I was a kid.” He gestured
to the trough as he positioned it by the fire.
 “Wow, you seriously missed out.” I was genuinely disappointed for
him.
He shrugged. “Waste of energy. I like the creek just fine.”
“You like freezing your tush off?” I sighed at even the mention of a
hot shower. “You’re only saying that because you don’t realize what you’re
missing. There’s nothing like taking all your clothes off after a long day of
work and letting all that hot water wash the grit away. And the steam…”
Joshua was making a weird face, probably because I’d started miming
taking a shower. I blushed and refocused my attention on picking out
clothes.
The trough wasn’t the same as soaking in a real tub but it was far
better than crouching in a cold stream and splashing water up into my
armpits with no soap. It didn’t work for my hair—it was far too long and
thick—which meant I had to wash that in the kitchen sink. Washing your
scalp in ice cold well water was pure agony. I quickly decided I wouldn’t be
shampooing my hair more than once a week. Thank God for messy buns.
By the fire the water stayed warm for almost twenty minutes. I
could scrub myself down and still have time to luxuriate in the heat. That
meant sacrificing my privacy but I wasn’t all that worried about it. Sharing
a single room with another person didn’t leave space for much privacy.
Besides, Joshua didn’t seem to have any interest in taking advantage of my
nudity. If anything, he went out of his way not to look at me. Clearly, I
wasn’t his type.
I didn’t know how old Joshua was but he was old enough to have
seen more than one woman naked and they were probably all much more
appealing than me. He didn’t strike me as that type, but experience taught
me that every man was that type of man when presented with the
opportunity to have sex. He might not be dashingly handsome but Joshua
was muscled and had a touch of that bad boy attitude that some women
couldn’t resist. I was sure he got plenty of offers back in the day.
Though, where would he meet a woman living out in the boonies?
And if he brought a woman home, would he bring her back here? It wasn’t
as if his house was horrible but it wasn’t exactly a classy bachelor pad.
Then again, he did live with his father at one point and there was only one
bed.
God, why was I even thinking about this?
 Now I was picturing Joshua having sex on the bed where I slept—
which made me uncomfortable for reasons I wouldn’t admit to anyone lest
they think I was jealous, because I definitely wasn’t—while his father sat in
the chair by the fire and pretended not to notice like Joshua pretended not to
notice me. Unless the secret door was actually hiding his Fifty Shades of
Grey style bedroom. Even goat farmers had kinks, right?
Bathing. That’s what I should be thinking about. Not sex. Never
sex. Not when I’m about to get naked in front of a man. Unless I’m getting
naked to have sex with him, of course. Not like that was ever going to
happen now.
I couldn’t hold in a groan when I finally slipped into the tub. Hot
water was heaven. Joshua’s cheek twitched but he didn’t turn his attention
from the flickering heat that licked at the logs in front of him. I took a deep
breath, lying back and enjoying the water before I got to work scrubbing
and rinsing suds away.
Once I was thoroughly clean, I kicked my feet up on the edge of the
tub, making another loud groaning noise half because it felt good and half
because it got a reaction out of Joshua.
“You know what I miss?” I breathed a dramatic sigh and stretched
one leg out further so the fire warmed the bottom of my foot. “Smoothies. I
so did not appreciate my blender enough. God, milkshakes too. I would
have drunk so many more milkshakes if I’d known I couldn’t have them in
the future.” Joshua didn’t respond so I continued. “And Frappuccinos?
Coffee, whipped cream, caramel. What a luxury that was.”
“It was a luxury before the power went out.” He mumbled.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right. Five dollars for coffee on demand ain’t
cheap. I took it for granted though. It was all so easy. Everything was at my
fingertips.”
“You didn’t have to work for anything.” I think that was intended as
an insult to my character.
“Not gathering my resources like a caveman doesn’t mean I wasn’t
working. I carried heavy trays of food for up to twelve hours a day. That
was hard work.” I pointed my toes indignantly. If toes can show
indignation, that is.
“Tough.”
“You know what else I miss?” I raised a hand from the tub and
flicked a few droplets of water at him. His expression darkened but he kept
his gaze forward. “Chocolate. If I’d known the world was going to end, I
would have used my college fund to buy a chocolate farm in Florida and
live on nothing but milk chocolate.”
“A chocolate farm? Do the bars grow on trees?”
“Oh boy, I don’t know how chocolate is grown. Just like I don’t
know how coffee is grown. Silly, clueless Liv.” I deepened my voice
sardonically.
“If you’d done that you would be dead. Eaten by a python or a
crocodile or killed by a virus transmitted by mosquitoes. And if that didn’t
get you, a hurricane would.” He was unfazed by my mocking retort.
I rolled my eyes but mostly for my own benefit since he wasn’t
looking at me. “Wow Joshua, you’re so optimistic.”
“I’m realistic.”
“Not me. I believe in magic and happy endings. My glass is full.”
“Half full.” He corrected with a tilt of his head in my direction. He
wasn’t stealing a look—God forbid he act human enough to glance at my
breasts, which were bouncy and soft now that I was gaining weight—but he
was giving me his attention. I wondered if he actually enjoyed these
conversations or if he was just getting better at hiding his annoyance.
“No, I meant full. I’ve got everything I need.” I splashed him again.
He whipped his head my way for a two second scowl before turning back to
the fire.
“You’re inexperienced. You don’t even know what you need.”
Inexperienced? At what? Life? He couldn’t just let something be a good
thing. Did he want everyone to be as miserable as he was? Not happening.
I punished his sour mood by upping my cheerfulness to a level that
could almost annoy me. I smiled and giggled and chattered on about my
favorite brunch special at this café down the street from campus that I went
to every Tuesday after my morning classes. He responded with a few grunts
and one word answers and a frown that settled on his face and stayed there.
There was a line—invisible and almost impossible to find without
running into it by mistake—and when I crossed it, he would be real mad,
not this exaggerated, huffy annoyed that he made a show of. When I ran out
of good topics to blather on about, I decided I’d gotten close enough to that
line without crossing it and it was time to stop.
“Do you know what I miss most of all?” I murmured more to myself
than to him.
 “Hmm?” He was clearly still listening.
“Thunder.”
“Thunder?”
“Mhmm.”
“Last I checked the grid going down doesn’t mean there are no more
thunderstorms.” He shifted his gaze again, not looking directly at me but
focusing on my outstretched feet.
“It doesn’t thunder here.”
“Of course it does.”
“What like once every decade? I’ve lived here for two years and
never heard thunder. Southern thunderstorms are so much different than the
rainstorms here. They’re chaotic. Downpours and flooding and blinding
cracks of lightning. One of the most frightening and exhilarating
experiences is waking up to thunder as it rattles your windows. The ferocity
of it makes you feel so small.” My sigh this time was wistful, almost sad.
“Not insignificant, just...like you’re only a piece of something bigger than
you can even fathom.” Some days, it was hard to come to terms with how
the world had changed. There were things I just wouldn’t get to experience
anymore. Things I would never see again.
Joshua finally looked at me then, really looked at me. I had adjusted
to his staring but I realized that until now, he’d only ever done it when I
wasn’t looking back. He really was like a cat, refusing to meet my eyes
except in challenge, darting his gaze away if it was anything but that. This
time our eyes met and it made me feel oddly vulnerable; naked.
Of course, I was literally naked which might have contributed to
that sentiment but he paid no mind to my exposed breasts and bare legs. He
was fixated on my face as if he’d never seen it before. The potency of his
full attention made me shiver and wrap my arms around myself.
He must have thought I was uncomfortable with my nakedness because
he turned away sharply when I moved. I supposed that was for the better
because I continued to shiver once I noticed how cool the water had gotten.
The strange exchange passed. I waited until Joshua seemed hooked
on the fire again and rose from the water. towel tightly wrapped around my
body, I made a hasty dash onto the hearth. That way the water would drip
onto the stone and dry in the heat of the fire rather than dampening the rug.
The warmth on my skin wasn’t a bad feeling either. As soon as I was beside
the fireplace Joshua was up and heaving the trough outside.
 Once I heard him shut the door, I whipped open my towel and shimmied
so any stray water would drop off my skin. I stood half naked and exposed
to the fire until the first thump of a boot on the porch. I gathered up my
clothes and scurried to the corner by the bed to get dressed. Joshua had his
head down, probably worried he would walk in on me dressing.
“And they say chivalry is dead.”
“Who says that?” His chair groaned beneath him when he resettled
into it.
I gave a muffled answer through the fabric of my shirt as I tugged it
over my head. “You know, they. The collective of mysterious people who
say stuff.”
“Ah.” Joshua snorted.
“Are you tired?” I floated back into the living room—well, living
area—on a total high.
“I’m never tired.”
“Right, I forgot, you’re a robot.” I stiffened my arms and moved
them up and down robotically, laughing softly at Joshua’s bewildered look.
How was it possible that he’d missed out on so much pop culture? “Well,
I’m hungry.”
“You just had dinner an hour ago.”
“And now I’m hungry again. Can I have some bread?” He narrowed
his eyes at me and opened his mouth to say something but I cut him off. “I
know, I know. No bread without butter.”
He shook his head and waved me into the kitchen, muttering
“locust” when he thought I couldn’t hear him.
I stuck my tongue out at the back of his chair, picked some mold off
half a loaf of bread on the counter, and smothered it in jam. If I forgot the
butter it was absolutely not on purpose. I would never do that.

[Link]
 8
Suspicious Minds

I woke to the unfamiliar sound of a door creaking. By now I was

used to the rare groan of Joshua’s chair as he rose from it in the middle of
the night but this new noise startled me. I bolted upright, eyes wide but
vision blurry from sleep and the thick darkness that blanketed the
surrounding room. I blinked until I could make out the dining table in front
of me. To the left of it was the front door.
The open front door.
Was someone in here, someone other than Joshua? Was that even
possible? My heart raced so fast it hurt. There was a loud, irregular rush of
air coming from somewhere. I focused on it and realized it was my own
ragged breath.
“Joshua?” He didn’t answer.
I couldn’t see him. The fire was out and the room was pitch black
but for a sliver of dull moonlight that peeked through the curtains in the
kitchen. I tried to listen for any other noises but the more anxious I got the
louder blood pumped in my ears. How did someone get in? There was a
fence, wasn’t there? It wasn’t indestructible but it had to be pretty good
because Joshua never seemed worried about it.
The front door creaked again as it slowly pushed further open. I
froze, completely still—no, completely paralyzed with fear. I waited but no
one came through. Maybe the wind blew it open. Shouldn’t it be locked? It
had a deadbolt and I knew Joshua kept it latched at night.
“Joshua?” I whimpered his name again.
This time there was a response. Not a verbal one but a soft shuffling
of feet on the porch. Then there was a figure in the door, so big and dark it
filled up the whole entryway. My panting grew more frantic. The figure
hurried from the doorway to the dining room table but stopped short of the
bed.
“What?” Joshua’s gruff voice snapped.
“Oh God.” I exhaled so hard I lurched forward. I’d never been
happier to hear him snap in my life.
 “What’s going on?” His tone was impatient but there seemed to be a
hint of genuine concern there, too.
“You didn’t answer when I called you and the front door was open. I
was worried. Is something wrong?”
“Just a feeling.”
His honesty surprised me. “A feeling? Like a bad vibe?”
“Somethin’ like that. Go back to sleep.” He swept back to the door.
“Are you leaving?” I asked, sliding out of bed and moving to follow.
“Is there anything I can do?”
“Stay put.” He hissed.
I stood by the side of the bed and watched him slip outside. His
steps, usually brisk thumps, were soundless. It unsettled me as much as him
saying he had “a feeling.” The only noise was the scrape of Kuna’s nails as
she trailed at his side. And just like that, I was alone.
Not really. I reassured myself. This was no different than when he
and Kuna went out to work. He was out there on the property, probably
within shouting distance.
Fire starting remained a mystery to me but it gave my trembling
hands something to do. I abandoned the flint after bloodying my thumb on
the first attempt. Instead I used the first poker to dig around in the ashes
until I found the tiniest glimmer of a spark. It took lots of blowing and
maneuvering to coax a wispy piece of bark to light.
Getting that ember to ignite into an actual fire was a challenge. I
carefully added more kindling, graduating to larger and larger hunks of
wood until finally placing a log in the center. I almost thought I ruined my
chances when the log appeared to smother the flames. It caught with a
startling whoosh if air and a satisfying crackle.
I let pride and the warmth of the fire ease my anxiety enough to stop
pacing and settle into the chair across from Joshua’s. Knees to my chest, I
practiced breathing deeply and consciously. By the time I heard footsteps
on the porch, quieter than usual but much closer to the familiar hammering
I was used to, I’d calmed enough to settle my heartbeat.
“Everything okay?” I whispered when he filled the space between
the chairs.
“Fine. Go to bed.”
“What exactly happened?”
“I told you.”
 “Tell me again.” I looked up at his shadowy face then added a quiet
“please.”
“Just had a feeling I ought to check on something.” He shrugged and
flopped into his chair with a heavy sigh. For the first time I noticed the lines
on his face, the deep indentations under his eyes. Joshua looked tired. Not
the kind of tired that happens when you miss a night of sleep. It was a
weary tired and it triggered an urge for me to fix it. He took care of me. I
should be taking care of him too.
“Check on what?”
A sudden and unexpected hostility flickered to life on his face like
the flames devouring the wood. “You set this up?”
“What?” I twisted in my seat so I could look at him more directly.
“Set what up?”
“You got someone waiting out there? Are you the distraction?”
“Am I—oh for God’s sake! Are we still on this? I’ve been here a
month, Joshua. Four weeks! Don’t you think I would have done something
by now if I planned to rob you?”
“Unless you were waiting until I trusted you.”
“You don’t trust me!” I stood from the chair too quickly, causing
Kuna to snarl at me.
Joshua stood too. For the first time since he brought me here, I was
almost afraid he would hurt me. “How can I?”
“Gee, I don’t know. How can you trust me when I’ve done nothing but
tell you how grateful I am and offer to help you manage your chores?” I
threw my hands up, my anger warring with my uncertainty. “I’m about as
bad as they come.”
I skirted around Joshua and the dog, stomped to the door, yanking
my boots. “If you’re so convinced, I’m untrustworthy then why not just
kick me out? Your penance is done. Whatever it is you needed forgiveness
for, you’ve earned it.” I hesitated with my hand on the front door, twisting
to look over my shoulder. “If I’m such a dangerous distraction, why don’t
you march me out into the woods and do whatever you did to make those
two raiders go away? It would save you a lot of grief.”
I was almost out the door when Joshua’s icy tone stilled me. “What
do you think I did to make those men leave?”
“I don’t know, scowled so hard they got scared and ran away?
You’re a big guy with a gun. I’m sure they took one look at you and decided
it was safer for them to find something else to do. Why does it matter? Is
that a threat?”
“If I was threatening you, you’d know it.” Would I?
“So, what are you trying to say? What do you want from me?” I
snapped back.
He didn’t answer. I didn’t give him much chance to. Despite the storm of
emotions threatening a tornado inside me, I closed the door softly and
paused my escape on the porch. What was I doing? Where was I going? It
was the middle of the night and it was dark. Terrifyingly dark.
I hovered on the first step, watching shadows of tree branches
weave across the garden and through the woods until I’d imagined every
frightening scenario possible. Eventually I gave up trying to psyche myself
into going out there and instead settled in one of the Adirondacks. The night
air was humid and biting. Goosebumps dotted my bare arms and I deeply
regretted not grabbing a jacket.
I was in quite the pickle, wasn’t I? For months I had no one to rely
on but myself. I knew I would take care of myself. I could trust myself.
Somehow, I let that self-assurance slip away like sand through my fingers
as soon as Joshua offered me a place to stay. He took care of me, gave me
everything I could need.
But that nagging “why” behind his actions was a chasm that would always
separate us. If he didn’t want anything from me, had no use for me, then I
was discardable. There wasn’t a real reason for him to keep me around. I let
myself get far too comfortable here and now I would pay the price of that.
I would have to leave on my own or he would make me. Either way,
I was back in the wilderness with no supplies and no shelter with winter fast
approaching.
I was doomed if I left, doomed if I stayed. Was this how it ended for
me?
My spiraling panic was interrupted when the door flew open,
spilling firelight onto the porch. “Come inside.” Joshua growled.
“Why?”
“You’re going to freeze out here.”
I stuck my chin out stubbornly. “If I’m some evil raider spy that
wants to ruin your life, why bother helping me? Leave me out here to
freeze.”
 “If you don’t get your skinny ass in here—” he pointed an angry
finger at me.
“You’ll what?”
His mouth opened and closed, a threat dangling on his tongue. It
must have been one he knew he wouldn’t make good on because he
faltered, opting to go back inside and close the door. Great. Now it was just
me and the darkness. The horrible, freezing darkness that was probably full
of murdering clowns.
Just when I’d resigned myself to freezing to death, Joshua came back
out with the quilt from the bed. He tossed it over my lap in a heap and
plunked himself down on the porch step. The damp wind didn’t seem to
bother him. He leaned his elbows on his knees, feet bare and chest covered
in only a worn thermal.
“You don’t have to do this, Joshua.” I broke the uncomfortable
silence.
“I don’t have to do anything.”
“God, would you quit behaving like a stubborn teenager for five
seconds?” I rolled my eyes, shuffled from the Adirondack to sit next to him
on the step. Our shoulders almost touched. I was tempted to lean into him
just to steal some of his body heat. “I’m trying to give you a guilt free out.”
“I don’t feel guilty.”
“Uh-huh.” That was why he came out here with a blanket and sat
sullenly in the cold. Because he was decidedly not guilty. “Well that should
make it easy for you then. I’ll pack tonight and leave in the morning. If you
want, you can blindfold me and lead me away from the farm so I never find
it again.”
“Jesus, woman! I’m not kicking you out.”
“Then what? I don’t understand what you want from me!”
He mussed his hair with agitated fingers. “Why did you get up?”
“You were gone.”
A glimmer of suspicion returned to his eyes. “So?”
“You’re really going to make me say this?”
“Yes.”
“I was scared! There. Are you happy now?” I swallowed back the
crack in my voice. “You were gone and I was scared. I’m afraid of the
dark.” Humiliation bloomed a hot red across my cheeks. “And lots of other
things but it all stems from the dark.”
 “Is that all?” He glanced my way then back to the woods. “I reckon
you know what’s out there, in the dark. Probably smart to be afraid.” Was
that reassurance? From Joshua?
I watched him, chewing my lip, trying to figure out how he went
from suspicion and back so rapidly. “So that’s it? If I’d just admitted that I
was being a chicken, you would have been fine?”
“No.”
I tugged the blanket tighter around me and scowled at him.
“Nothing about you makes sense.”
“The feeling is mutual.” He scooted as far from me as the step
allowed. “What else?”
“This is one of those times where a few more words would get your
point across a lot better.”
“What else scares you?”
“Um, let’s see...” I tapped my chin with my pointer finger. “Spiders,
snakes, clowns, serial killers—”
“Real stuff.”
Ridiculous, confusing man.
“Spiders are real!”
“What had you sitting up like you knew death was coming for you?”
I sucked in a harsh, frozen breath. Had I really looked that bad? And
did I really have to answer this question? It felt like we’d gone from
deciding if I was out to get him to midnight confessions at a sleepover. The
change in pace was jarring and I found the vulnerability from earlier
cracking me back open into a nervous, exposed mess.
“Being alone.” I whispered it so quietly that the wind stole the
words away.
“Huh?”
“Being alone.” My voice sounded small. “I don’t want to be alone
anymore. I spent a lot of nights sleeping in ditches, under trees, behind old
buildings, squeezing my eyes shut so I had less fuel to imagine my
nightmares walking in the shadows around me. Worse than those nights
though? Standing alone along a beautiful expanse of creek and having no
one to share it with, realizing that I might never have anyone to share it
with again. Even just to hear someone else describe the way the sunlight on
the water made them feel, to see them pick up a pretty rock, would fill some
void in me that’s been growing since I lost my group.”
 That was a little too honest and we both knew it. I talked about
myself, shared stories about my childhood and my parents, but it seemed
there was some invisible line neither of us crossed. Joshua was secretive
about his life and I mirrored that, to a degree. It was safer, kept us from
getting too close. That way when he inevitably sent me packing, there
would be less hard feelings. Less guilt or resentment, less loneliness. Hard
to miss someone that doesn’t trust you. Or even like you.
Now I’d given him one of the softer pieces of myself, the kind that
breaks easily in someone else’s grasp. I looked down at Joshua’s hands.
Thick, calloused fingers clutched his knees. They were capable hands but
rough, so very rough. He could just as easily hold me safe with them as he
could crush me.
“You’re not.” My words echoed from his mouth. He wouldn’t look
at me but I could feel the tension leaving him. “Now get your squirrelly ass
inside before your toes fall off. I’m not carrying you around if you get
frostbite.”
It wasn’t an apology, not by a long shot, but from Joshua that
seemed to be as good as I was going to get. For all that he could be
hotheaded, he was also quick to cool. I didn’t know how to get him to trust
me but perhaps crossing that personal line was a start.
We were surviving the end of the world together. What harm could
there be in sharing my most vulnerable pieces? I might not get reciprocation
but at least I would get the relief of letting them out.
When Joshua stood and hovered in the doorway, holding it open for me,
I followed him.
“It’s definitely not cold enough for frostbite.”
“Damn woman and your damn arguing.”

[Link]
 9
Baby Steps

Joshua was pacing the kitchen when I woke. That in itself was
unusual. Where was the clang and clatter of breakfast? The man was
nothing if not routine and breakfast had to be done first.
“Joshua?” I sat up, tugging the quilt over me like a protective shield.
He made a beeline for the bedside, looming over me with an antsy
vibe that wasn’t like him. “You hungry?” He asked hurriedly.
“Ugh, I’m not starved.”
“Put your shoes on.”
“Where are we going? I’m not even dressed.” I pulled the covers
back to reveal his oversized shirt and a pair of leggings.
“I’ll show you.” Joshua almost sounded cheerful. And maybe a little
strained. “C’mon, Squirrel. You’re dressed fine.”
He thrust my boots at me before I even made it to the entryway. I
hopped on one foot, trying to cram the other into my boot without untying
it. “At least squirrels are cute.”
“I eat squirrels.” He reached around me to pull the front door closed
and shooed me down the porch steps.
“Oh…kay.” I stumbled down the last step in my rush to keep up
with him. Joshua already had a speed advantage over me with such long
legs. Why did he have to powerwalk? “I’m just going to pretend you’ve got
a bizarre sense of humor and not read into that.”
The last sound Joshua made for the rest of our trip to wherever-the-
heck-we-were-going was a snort that definitely counted as laughter.
The sun wasn’t yet visible through the trees when we reached our
destination, which was probably why I didn’t understand what we were
looking at right away. Joshua stopped a few feet away from a small hill
where someone had leaned a bunch of glass windows on the grass. Or so I
thought until I took a closer look and realized I could see open space
through the glass. Joshua came around the side of the hill and pulled open a
wooden hatch that I never would have seen. He motioned for me to follow
just before disappearing.
 I quickly came around after him and found a narrow staircase leading
down to…another garden? Then it hit me. These were his greenhouses and
they were almost completely underground. Pretty clever if you were trying
to stay off the radar. The air at the bottom of the stairs was surprisingly
muggy and warm. The scent was fresh and earthy with a sweetness that
hinted at some flowering plant I couldn’t see.
“This is where the coffee grows.” The words left him in an exhale
that, again, sounded oddly nervous. It was so unlike the Joshua I’d come to
know that it almost made me nervous too. “And plenty of other stuff that
doesn’t tolerate cooler nights. We built the original greenhouse structure to
grow essentials in the winter but I expanded it for the tropical plants.”
“Tropical plants? In the Pacific Northwest?”
“I started with the coffee. Just wanted to see if I could do it.” He
scratched through his beard.
“After that success I experimented with others, seeing what could handle
the minimal sunlight. Thought I might turn it into an income someday.
Folks love fancy shit.”
He stepped further inside and I followed him. The surrounding
space had to be double the size of the cabin and there was another door at
the other end of the room. A collection of potted trees and shrubs occupied
the area by the second door. A path through the greenhouse was lined with
river rocks that made raised beds just like in the garden. The plants growing
within were tiny, only just planted a few weeks ago by the looks of it.
A rustic garden table took up the spot between two beds, covered in
pots and plants of all sizes. The aesthetic matched something from a home
and garden magazine more than it matched Joshua’s rough lifestyle.
“Can I see?” I clasped my hands together under my chin. “The
coffee?”
“It doesn’t look like what you recognize as coffee right now.”
“I don’t care. I want to see it! Please?”
He shrugged and headed for the other door. “In here.”
The next room over was even muggier. Every available inch of
space was filled with potted plants or bright green trees. It felt like stepping
into a tropical jungle. Somewhere I heard running water. Joshua led me
closer to the sound until I noticed a teeny tiny pond with a waterfall that
trickled over more river rocks. It was all so unexpectedly beautiful.
 I trailed my gaze over every plant, then back to Joshua. His eyes met
mine for the briefest moment and I saw something I’d never seen before. It
wasn’t quite happiness but it was pretty close. He clearly took pride in the
plants out here and had put a lot of effort into curating this space. It wasn’t
just a growing room, it was a sanctuary.
This was Joshua’s peace offering and it was not one I would take
lightly. He was letting me in on one of his secrets too. Maybe it wasn’t the
type of resource that people would fight him for, but he saw enough value
in it to keep it hidden for more than a month. Now he was sharing it with
me.
“This is beautiful, Joshua.” I said breathlessly.
On instinct, I reached a hand out to touch his arm. It was innocent,
only reinforcing my words with physical contact. Joshua jerked away,
shock on his features before they hardened into their usual scowl. He side
stepped away from me—not subtly—and cleared his throat loudly.
“This is Kona coffee.” He pointed to the closest plant. It looked like
any other house plant to me, but what did I know about plants?
I let him glaze over our awkward moment and searched my brain for
a question to ask. “How much coffee do you actually get from them?”
“Couple pounds. It wasn’t really worth the effort when you could
buy coffee just about anywhere.” He tucked his hands in his pockets,
making such direct eye contact with the plant you’d think he was talking to
it rather than me.
“Will you tell me what the other trees are?” I shuffled closer to him.
I was fairly certain Joshua’s recoiling wasn’t personal but that didn’t make
it sting any less. No girl wanted to go half a year without touching someone
and then have the first person she meets act revolted by her affection.
Skittish kitty cat. I reminded myself. He’s not the type that wants to
be pet.
“Another time. Need to feed the chickens and pack up breakfast.”
I watched him pretend not to notice me watching before realizing
that the look I was giving him held a little too much longing.
It’s only because he’s taken care of me. It’s only because the world is
ending and I just don’t want to feel alone. Joshua doesn’t even like me. I
shouldn’t have to remind myself any of this but I did, over and over again,
until I remembered that Joshua had said something and I hadn’t responded.
 I acknowledged him with a nod, recognizing how vulnerable it made
him feel to show me this place. Unraveling the mystery of Joshua and
maybe, just maybe, earning his trust was going to take the babiest of baby
steps. This was a good one and I wasn’t going to push.
“Pack up breakfast? Are we taking it to go?” My cheerful tone was
only a little forced.
“Yup. Now get moving. We’ve got somewhere to be.”

[Link]
 10
Snack

I was never going to understand Joshua’s logic. Any normal person

would have felt awkward after our blow up fight the night before. Instead,
he was relaxed. Ever since our spat he’d been weirdly calm. All the tension
that used to sit in his shoulders when he was studying me at the dinner table
was gone. Suddenly I was trustworthy.
I wasn’t foolish enough to believe he trusted-trusted me but he
didn’t seem to think I was waiting to pull a machete out of my pocket and
stab him either. I officially had rights to walk about the property and when I
offered, I was given chores. Joshua even showed me the chickens, goats,
and the lone pig he kept for reasons I didn’t want to think about.
Goats, as it turned out, were gross and creepy. What was with those
eyes? Pigs weren’t much better. The plump creature Joshua was raising was
scarcely reminiscent of the pot belly pigs that occupied petting zoos. I got
the distinct impression that under the right circumstances, the thing
wouldn’t hesitate to eat me. The chickens were cute, at least.
None of that compared to what we were doing now. When he mentioned
we were leaving the farm, I had to hold my breath to keep from jumping
around with excitement. The place was pretty but jeez was I sick of sitting
around.
I had no idea what snares were or why we were checking them but I
didn’t really care. As much as I appreciated the safety and shelter of
Joshua’s home, I wanted to be out in the world. The longer we were isolated
in that tiny cabin, the more acutely aware of it I became.
When I saw the fence around the property from the other side for the
first time, I was shocked. If I didn’t know it was there, I wouldn’t have seen
it at all. Joshua explained that when his father built it decades earlier, he
was attentive to which part of the property was most easily concealed. He
made a point to select local evergreen plants that he knew would thrive and
planted them meticulously around the wooden wall. If someone was astute
enough to see the wall beyond the bramble and somehow climbed the six
foot planks, they would be greeted by a hidden row of barbed wire on the
other side.
Smart but also disturbing. Almost like Joshua’s father was
anticipating the exact situation we were in now.
We were only about a hundred feet into the woods when I noticed a
shift in Joshua’s demeanor. He kept his hand close to the gun on his hip,
eyes up and scanning the trees from time to time, but none of it was wary.
The behavior seemed innate. Otherwise, he was more at ease out here than
he was in his own home.
“What is it?” I asked as he plucked the cream colored mushroom
and tossed it into my basket.
“Chanterelle. It’s a little early for them this far north but this patch is
always reliable.” He picked another and held it out for me to examine.
“Plenty of mushrooms are edible around here but you should never eat
anything you can’t identify.”
He went on to explain how he identified it and what to avoid if I was
ever starving in the woods—again—and stumbled upon fungus. We didn’t
walk much further before stopping, this time for Joshua to point out
blackberries. I nearly squealed with joy when I saw the massive thorny bush
loaded with fruit. We spent about ten minutes filling a second, smaller
basket that Joshua kept hooked on his backpack. I ate about as many berries
as I picked. Some of them tasted like a glass of wine, fizzy and overly
sweet, but I ate those too.
Joshua snorted when I lifted my juice stained palms with a grin.
Our journey into the woods continued like that for over an hour. We
kept a pleasant pace, Joshua pausing often to point out plants, mushrooms,
and even a few songbirds. There was no way I could remember everything
he said but I listened regardless, fascinated by his vast knowledge and how
easily it came to him.
Whenever I asked a question, Joshua answered. Out here, he was a
different person. His eyes actually sparkled with excitement and he spoke
more than I’d ever heard at one time. I liked this side of Joshua. Part of me
never wanted to go back to the farm. I was having fun with him and, maybe
it was wishful thinking but, I was pretty sure he was having fun with me
too.
“I can eat it? You’re not just trying to get rid of me?” I asked,
plucking a beautiful blue berry from a cluster of what he called Oregon
grape.
“There are easier ways to get rid of you.” He raised his eyebrows
expectantly. Too expectantly.
I narrowed my eyes at him. “You seem awfully excited about me
eating this.”
He hardened his features, which didn’t disguise the amusement in
his eyes. “I don’t get excited.”
I popped the berry into my mouth. Two seconds later my lips puckered
involuntarily and I was pretty sure my eye was twitching. “It’s sour!”
Joshua watched me struggle to swallow the tart red juice and for a
sliver of a moment, he nearly smiled. “Sour’s good for you.”
“You think you’re pretty funny, do you?” I yanked the water bottle
from the side of his backpack and swished a mouthful.
He shrugged and kept walking, forcing me to jog to catch up to him.
I almost tripped over Kuna when both he and the dog stopped abruptly.
Joshua stooped to pinch a big, white, umbrella shaped mushroom and held
it out for me.
I cautiously extended my hand, feeling wary after his last trick.
“What is it?”
“Destroying angel.”
I quickly recoiled. “That sounds poisonous. And terrible.”
“Very.”
“Put it down, Joshua!” I batted at his hand, too afraid to actually
touch the mushroom.
“Won’t kill you unless you eat it.” His lips twitched.
“What if you lick your fingers?” The longer he held that thing the
shriller I became.
My anxiety only heightened his amusement. “Guess I might be dead
when you wake up tomorrow.”
I glared at him, then at the mushroom, then back at him. “Not
funny.”
Joshua shrugged again.
“I have to pee.” I grumbled before he could powerwalk away from
me.
He crossed his arms and looked at me as if to say, “go ahead then.”
“Not here.”
“Why?” He groaned.
 “You can see me.”
“I won’t watch you.” He said, somewhat indignantly. “I’ll turn my
back. Go.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?” He groaned again.
“I have a shy bladder.” I whispered. He frowned like I’d spoken
nonsense. “I can’t go if you can hear me.”
“If I can hear you? I’ll know what you’re doing whether or not I
hear you.”
“I know but if you can’t hear me, I can pretend you don’t. I’ll be quick.
I just need to find a good tree to pee behind.”
Joshua sighed so loudly it was almost a growl. He finally gave in
with a curt “Hurry up. Stay in sight.”
“That defeats the purpose.” I called over my shoulder.
I tip toed through the undergrowth for about ten feet. When I looked
back Joshua was staring at me. I waved a frantic hand at him. He shook his
head but turned around so his back was to me. Even from here I could feel
the impatience rolling off his body in waves. One interruption and we were
back to the regular ol’ grumpypants.
I found a shrub that seemed suitable and squatted to test how well it
hid me. I could still see Joshua and Kuna, which meant they could
definitely see me. Not that it mattered if the dog watched me, I guess.
I hurried further back into the woods as quickly and quietly as I
could, pausing to test out stumps and bushes. Eventually the ferns and
shrubs thinned a bit and I found a thick tree. I yanked down my jeans and
exhaled in relief. I was pulling my pants back up when I caught movement
in my peripherals. I whipped around, praying that it wasn’t Joshua coming
after me because I went too far.
It definitely wasn’t Joshua.
In front of me was a huge brown animal, as big as Kuna but lower to
the ground and longer. I stared for a second, so shocked that I was sure my
vision was failing me. I was face to face with a massive, tawny cat. He had
a thick, diamond shaped head raised high in the air to investigate my scent.
His ears were up, light green eyes locked on me.
I tried to think of what to do to scare off the animal but my voice
was shaking and I could barely raise it above a whisper. “No, no. Stay
back.”
 The big cat lifted a paw and held it there motionless for a second.
Then he set it down, taking one step closer to me. I took a frightened step
back. He took another forward. I panicked, stumbling backwards as fast as I
could. The cougar advanced on me, shoulder blades straining against
muscle and skin as it hurried silently across the forest floor.
“Josh-u-a!” I shrieked. A root jutted out in my path, catching my
heel and sending me back onto my butt.
I couldn’t be more than five feet from the cougar now. He was
crouching, head bobbing with excitement. I was going to be cougar lunch.
A loud crash in the underbrush startled both of us. Joshua barreled through
the trees, hands raised, voice booming an angry “hey!” at the animal. Kuna
followed at his heel, teeth bared, a vicious growl rumbling from her throat.
The big cat put his ears back and let out a terrifying snarl. Joshua
clapped his hands and shouted again. The cat backpedaled, turning tail and
sprinting off into the woods. Kuna tried to follow but Joshua gave her a
firm command and she stayed. Every muscle in her body was tensed, her
instincts warring with her obedience.
“What the hell are you doing? You don’t run from a cougar!” He
gripped my upper arms hard and yanked me to my feet. I winced both from
the way he held me and the pain in my tailbone.
“S-sorry.” I stammered. “I didn’t know.”
His brow was deeply furrowed, eyes alight with adrenaline, anger,
or both. When he let go of my arms I teetered there, lower lip trembling—
whole body trembling. Joshua opened his mouth to chastise more but he
stopped and his expression lightened to confusion when he saw my tears.
Apparently, he couldn’t understand why almost getting eaten by a cougar
only to have him blame me for it would make me upset.
“You don’t run from a cougar.” He repeated, voice still rough but
edged with less annoyance.
“Sorry.” Why am I apologizing? It’s not my fault that a predator
tried to eat me.
We both stood frozen in place, me quietly sobbing and him
floundering because he had no idea how to get me to stop. Kuna huffed
loudly. I was still frightened and the sound spooked me so bad I yelped.
Without thinking I jumped forward and reached out for Joshua. My arms
wrapped tight around his ribs, my forehead buried in his chest. He was so
solid and safe that once I was there, I didn’t want to move. I huddled
against him, shaking for what felt like half an hour.
He seemed even more helpless in this situation. His body was so
rigid it must have hurt and he couldn’t figure out what to do with his arms
without giving me the impression that he was returning my embrace—or
whatever you might call this terrified clinging—so he held them awkwardly
at his side. Finally, he lifted a big palm and clumsily patted the top of my
head like he was petting a puppy.
I pushed away from him and sniffled, “Sorry.”
“Never run from a cougar.”
I nodded, my gaze fixed on his boots. “Right.”
Thankfully, Joshua decided now wasn’t the time to give me a more
thorough lecture, probably because he was as afraid that I would start
crying again as I was of the cougar, and we continued on in silence. I was
humiliated and I wanted nothing more than to go back to the cabin and hide
in bed. To say as much out loud would have been equally embarrassing so I
had no choice but to follow Joshua and Kuna.
I was looking down, hyper-focused on where I was putting my feet,
when Joshua slowed. I bumped into his shoulder and almost fell backwards.
I didn’t need catching but he caught me anyway. Fingers dug into my upper
arm and anchored me upright. By now he was accustomed to my wincing at
his unexpected movements and didn’t seem to realize it was because he was
hurting me.
“Joshua,” I whimpered his name. He released me so fast that I did
stumble back and had to catch myself on a tree. Then he shushed me.
Because I was making noise for the fun of it.
I leaned against the tree, quietly waiting as he crouched to examine
something. Only when I lifted my gaze did I realize that something was a
flailing rabbit. I gasped, horrified, and quickly covered my face, not at all
interested in seeing what he was about to do to the poor animal. When he
gripped my elbow and tugged me forward so we could keep moving I made
sure my face gaze was shoulder-level so I didn’t have to look at the dead
rabbit hanging off his pack.
We stopped at five more snares, only two of which had helpless
rabbits hooked in them. Steady rivulets of silent tears had begun to wet my
face by the time we finished our task and turned back toward the farm. I
couldn’t believe that he’d brought me out here to hunt animals. Didn’t
Joshua know better? How could he think I would want to witness that?
Though we moved briskly, the walk home seemed endless. My feet
were lead as I heaved them up the porch steps. Joshua sent me into the
house, disappearing with his creepy collection of rabbits. I wasn’t about to
argue with his silent order.
To my surprise, Kuna chose to follow me for a change. She kept her
distance, eyeing me as I undid my boots, slipped from my jeans, and
snuggled into my flannel. When I flopped into one of the recliners with a
heavy sigh, she mimicked the action, tossing her body onto the rug.
“I’m never leaving this house again.” I whispered pathetically to the
dog.
She grunted at me.
“Cave-dog.”

[Link]
 11
Territorial Predator

Joshua wordlessly shooed me away from the kitchen when I tried to

clean up the remnants of dinner. I wandered to the fireplace instead, sliding
down onto the floor to rest my back against the cushion of the chair
opposite his. I ignored the big black dog still stretched out on the rug near
me, wrapping my arms around my knees and drawing them to my chest.
Normally she would growl if I dared to sit on the part of the floor
that belonged to her. This time Kuna only raised her head to peer at me with
something almost sympathetic in her dark eyes. She wasn’t pleased to have
me around but she was beginning to tolerate my presence.
I let the flames lure me into their dance until I was transfixed on the
red and gold light. My focus was so intent that I didn’t notice Joshua cross
the room to search the bookshelf. Even when he walked in front of me, his
thumb pressed into the center of a book to save his place, his chair groaning
a complaint as he sat, I didn’t look up.
When he spoke, it startled me so much I jumped, which startled
Kuna and had her rising onto her front legs and making a noise between a
grunt and a growl. “They’re territorial.”
“Go ahead, eat me.” I snarled defiantly at the dog. She blinked at me
and lowered her head onto her feet. “Who?” Despite my sharp tone with
Kuna, my question was murmured. I couldn’t bring myself to meet his gaze.
I was as helpless and easily frightened as he thought me to be. What
was the point of my false bravado? He didn’t believe it and no matter what I
did, his opinion of me didn’t change. That upset me more than I wanted it
to. Why should I care what Joshua thought of me? He wasn’t required to
like me.
It wouldn’t have bothered me as much if I hadn’t convinced myself
that he did. For a heartbeat he was talking to me, even being playful. I
thought he was enjoying himself. I let that hopeful thought get carried away
enough to imagine he was enjoying himself with me. It was a mistake. I
forgot that Joshua didn’t like anyone and he didn’t enjoy anything. He was
only trying to teach me skills that would make me more useful.
 “Cougars.” Joshua answered softly, handing me the book. It was a
guide to mammals of North America. The page he’d saved was a chapter on
the North American Cougar.
“Oh.” I took the book, stealing a glance at him.
“I’ve crossed paths with that male a few times over the years.
Probably more times than I’ve actually realized. Our territories overlap, it
seems.” I couldn’t help but smile a little when he referred to his property as
his “territory,” as if he was no different than the cougar. “We stay out of
each other’s way. Plenty of deer to go around.”
I skimmed the first page, muttering “Not enough skinny blonde
ladies to go around, apparently.”
“Most likely he was only checking you out before you tried to get
away. You acted like a wounded animal and it got him excited. When you
ran, he couldn’t resist the urge to chase. You never run from a cougar.” He
repeated for the hundredth time.
“So you said.” The sneer felt especially rude since, for once, he was
genuinely trying to be nice.
“I wasn’t angry. It surprised me is all.”
“I’d hate to see you when you’re actually angry.”
“I was angry.” I cocked my head. He clarified. “I meant I wasn’t angry at
you. I shouldn’t have let you get so far out of my sight. You don’t know
what you’re doing out there.”
That was another apology. Not the best one I’d ever received. Usually it
helped get the point across a better if you actually used the word “sorry”
when you apologized. That was the thing about Joshua; he was never
obvious with any sentiment that wasn’t frustration or annoyance. I couldn’t
say if that was intentional or if it was simply because those were the
emotions that were easiest for him. He had to enjoy something. Maybe not
me, but he had to like someone.
I pressed my lips together, finally finding the courage to look at him.
He was staring at me. There was no sign of his usual frown, only that calm,
neutral face he got when he was studying me. I could never figure out what
he was thinking when he did that.
“I’m sorry for walking away.” There I went again, apologizing when
I probably shouldn’t. It wasn’t as if I was carelessly wandering off. I only
wanted privacy. My incessant need to say I was sorry irritated me. It was a
lifelong habit of mine—growing up with controlling parents will do that to
you—and with Joshua it seemed to be elevated.
“Actually,” I straightened my shoulders and gave him a hint of that
defiant look I shot the dog earlier. “I’m not sorry. I won’t go that far next
time but I didn’t do anything wrong.”
His lips twitched and I might have called the glint in his eyes pride.
“Good.”
“Good.” I echoed.
I returned my attention to the book, stopping to read a section, and
noticed him in my peripherals. His expression had softened, eyes warmed
over to a delicious cocoa color. I slowly closed the book, sliding my eyes
across the floor, over the dog, then up his body until I was staring back at
him. He blinked once before turning sharply toward the fire.
It was okay for him to stare but not to be stared at. That was a
shame. When it wasn’t shadowed with a scowl, Joshua had a nice face.
“I thought…” He cleared his throat. “I thought taking you on a hunt
would help. Thought maybe if you knew how it was done, saw that we
don’t take too much and try to make it quick, you might feel better. That did
it for me.”
“Did it for you?”
“Pops started me hunting as soon as I was big enough to hold a rifle.
Around that same time, I was learning to read. Peter Rabbit was a particular
favorite of mine and when I realized it was rabbits we were hunting—and
eating—I refused.” He turned enough to catch me in a sidelong glance. I
offered an empathetic smile. “Pops took me out anyway. He wasn’t a man
who would be refused.” There was a bitter twist to those words that tempted
me to probe.
“That’s sad, Joshua.”
“It was necessary.” The harshness was back. “He taught me that if
I’m to survive, I have to be the predator.”
Just like the cougar.
“Pops showed me the hunt from nature’s perspective. We kill for
food, nothing more. That’s the way it’s meant to be. We don’t live in a
world where every creature lives happily ever after.” That was a dig at me.
To Joshua, I was like a Disney princess who spent the day braiding her hair
and singing to sparrows.
“There’s nothing wrong with wanting to live in a world like that.”
 “It’s never going to happen and dreaming about it only makes you
naïve.”
“I’d rather be naïve than bitter.” I snapped back, setting the book down
so I could wrap my arms around my knees and bring them closer to my
chest.
“Bitter is why I’m alive. It’s why you’re alive too.”
“Lucky me.” I was doing it again, that awful sneer. “I should go to
bed.” I stood abruptly, making Kuna stir again.
Joshua sighed so loudly it sounded more like an exasperated groan.
“Good idea.”
I stomped to the bed and threw myself down, flinging the quilt so I
could crawl under it. I lay there with my back to the fireplace—and more
importantly, to Joshua—for what could have been hours. After a long,
emotional day I was exhausted but my brain wouldn’t shut up and let me
sleep. There was this nagging, unresolved feeling that had me replaying my
interactions with him over and over in my head.
I couldn’t understand him! I tried so hard to be nice and make up for
his lack of patience with an excess of my own and it did nothing. This
morning I thought he was having fun with me but it didn’t last. Then he
apologized for his outburst only to get annoyed again with even less reason
than before. Was that just the type of person he was? Unfriendly and
irritable and impossible to talk to?
My frustration was replaced with disappointment. It shouldn’t
disappoint me. Why did I care what kind of person he was?
For the same reason I cared if he liked me. He was all I had. The
only one I could talk to, the only one I was safe with. Combine that with the
fact that he saved my life and I was finding myself more than a little
attached to him. There had to be some psychology behind it, like Stockholm
Syndrome.
I had no right to expect anything of Joshua. He didn’t invite me into
his life. I fell face first into it. The responsibility of me was thrust onto him
and I should be grateful that he even accepted it. If he liked me, I would be
thrilled. If he didn’t, I was glad to be tolerated by someone who was willing
to give so much, even grudgingly.
And what if I liked him? What if I liked him despite his worse
qualities? What if the more I got candid glimpses of him, the more I was
beginning to like him in a way that would lead to devastation? The feeling
was unbidden, an escaped little glimmer of foolish romanticism that needed
to be carefully contained.
After the blackout I had to compartmentalize. Certain emotions were
locked away, never to see the light of day again. Then suddenly Joshua
made me safe and in doing so, made it safe to feel. Now I couldn’t swallow
down the tiniest flutter when I remembered the twitch of his lips—that
almost smile that lit up his face. There was this thrill that bounced happily
in my stomach after seeing him in his element, relaxed and as carefree as a
man like him was capable of.
He was so unlike anyone I’d ever been with, so unashamedly and
uniquely him. No ego or vanity ruled him. No self-indulgent desires drove
his decisions. In all that he did, Joshua was true to his way of life, strange as
it may be.
I squeezed my eyelids tighter, smothering the spark inside me before
it became hope. Joshua was good to me, selflessly so, and that was enough.
It had to be. If I dreamed I would ever get more from him than that, I was
bound for heartbreak.

[Link]
 12
Burden

“I have to go to market today.” Joshua announced to the eggs he was

scrambling on the stove.
“Really? I was thinking of heading to the mall. Maybe we can
carpool.”
“Huh?”
“Oh, I just thought we were joking since neither of those things exist
anymore.”
“Pretty sure a building doesn’t disappear just because the electricity
doesn’t work in it.” Joshua shot back, finally catching on to my sarcasm.
“And plenty of markets exist. They’re just not what you’re used to.”
“Wait, you’re serious? I thought you said everything was picked
over by raiders. Does that mean there are other people in the area?” I
shivered at the thought, recalling the men I’d encountered before Joshua
found me. As lonely as it could be out here with just the two of us, I wasn’t
sure if I liked the idea of other people nearby.
I also wasn’t sure if I liked the idea of him lying about it.
He didn’t answer for so long that I began to feel nervous. “Yeah,
there are a few folks in the area.” I started to ask about them but he kept
going. “This particular market isn’t that close.”
I finished the last button on another borrowed flannel before
twisting the spare fabric at the bottom and tying it into a knot. The shirt
would have been too big on me anyway but with how thin I still was, it was
like a tent around my body. I considered for a moment, deciding to be
brave. “Sounds like fun. When do we leave?”
“You’re not coming.” He turned to set the cast iron pan on the table.
“Why can’t I come? I can walk. Look at me. I’m full of energy!” I
skipped over to the table to demonstrate.
He scowled at me and set a heaping plate of eggs, arugula, and
mushrooms in front of my chair. When he broke a small loaf of bread in
half, he dropped the larger piece next to my plate. Of the two of us, Joshua
had a significantly larger appetite. He probably needed six thousand
calories just to maintain his regular body mass. That didn’t stop him from
indulging my love of bread, even if he pretended like he wasn’t doing it on
purpose.
“I’ve noticed.” He scooped the meat from one of the rabbits onto his
plate. He ignored it when I wrinkled my nose. I was disappointed to see my
power move was losing effect.
“Don’t be sour. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? Now you can make
me pay back my debt to you by working on your farm for eternity.” I
slipped into the chair across from him and reached for the jam jar.
“Who said anything about debt?” He asked through a mouthful of food.
Whoever raised Joshua was not big on table manners.
“You act like I’m a burden.”
“You are eating all my food.” He shook a finger at me when I
started to put jam on my bread and handed me the butter. I wrinkled my
nose again and his eyebrows twitched upward.
“You’re making me!” I pointed out as I grudgingly scraped butter
across the jagged surface of the loaf.
“More.”
“You might as well make me spoon the butter straight into my
mouth.” That earned me a look that said if I kept whining he actually might.
“Can I trust you to stay here?”
I’d almost forgotten that was the reason I was arguing with him. We
argued so often that it was easy to lose track of the cause. Now that I was
becoming accustomed to his mannerisms and brooding, I enjoyed some of
our heated discussions. Joshua was easy to tease.
“You never told me why I can’t come.”
“It’s not for women.”
My jaw dropped. “Are you kidding me? The power goes out for a
year and we’re reverting to some antiquated, sexist behavior? You can’t
have a men’s only market. As a feminist, I disagree with that on so many
levels.”
He snorted. “I’m sure the folks at the trading post will change their
tune if you explain your feminist agenda.”
“Good. I’ll bring notes.”
“You’re not good at sarcasm.”
“No, you’re not good at sarcasm. Otherwise I would have known
you were being sarcastic.”
 “You’re not coming but if I can’t trust you here then I’m not going.”
He poked at a piece of mushroom on his plate.
“Joshua,” I gave him my best puppy dog eyes. “I want to come with
you. Please?”
“No. It’s not a place for women.”
“So you’re a male chauvinist now?”
“No, I’m realistic. Trading is inherently dangerous. And most
markets have certain…expectations of women. Not all of them are there
voluntarily. I’ve got to watch my back and I can’t do that if I’m keeping an
eye on you the whole time.”
“Expectations?” I sputtered. “Voluntarily?” My brain couldn’t seem
to process anything beyond those two words.
“That’s what I said.”
“You mean like,” I lowered my voice. “Prostitution? Or slavery?”
“A little of both. Apparently there’s a shortage of women.” His
words were so matter of fact.
“And you’re okay with this?” I suddenly had a sick lump in my
stomach. Was that the kind of man Joshua was and I hadn’t seen it?
“I never said that.”
“But you’re going to the prostitute slave market!”
He scooped a bite of eggs into his mouth and frowned at me. “It’s
not a slave market. There are very few people trafficking, if you can even
call it that. Mostly folks trade scarce items like weapons and medicine.
That’s what I’m after.”
“You’re strong, though. You should do something to help those
people! It’s your moral obligation.”
“I’m not obligated to do anything and I’m not here to be anyone’s
hero.”
“You saved me. That makes you a hero.”
“Don’t be childish.”
“Don’t be cruel! You’re just going to sit by and let people openly
participate in slavery?” I slid my plate away and crossed my arms.
“If that’s what it takes to survive. I’m not wasting my time and
resources to save a bunch of strangers. It’s already cost me enough caring
for you.” His words shot across the table, leaving me to feel like I’d been
smacked.
 I stood so fast my chair fell over and banged on the floor. Kuna leapt
from her place by the fireplace and hurried into the kitchen, hackles raised.
“Well I’m sorry I’m such a problem for you. Next time you can leave me on
the forest floor if it’s so costly to help.” I stalked over to the bed and
flopped onto it. “You’re the one that told me to stay.”
It occurred to me that I was being slightly irrational. Even if
Joshua’s attitude was callous, he had a point. It wasn’t his obligation to help
anyone and he was probably putting himself at risk if he did. I was hardly
about to say that out loud and validate him, though. He was just too casual
about the whole thing.
Shouldn’t it bother him, at least a little? I wanted it to bother him. I
wanted him to be a good enough person to care about things like that. I
wanted to know that I wasn’t wrong about him.
I jumped when there was a clatter by the bed. I lifted my head from
the pillow it was buried in and saw Joshua marching back to the table. My
plate was on the nightstand. “Eat. All of it.”
“No.”
“Fine. Starve. Your choice. I’m leaving after breakfast. I’ll probably
be gone all day. You have to stay in the house so if you need to do anything
outside you better hurry up and get it done.”
“What if I follow you?”
“Follow me and get lost in the woods again. Or get eaten by a bear.
Or get snatched by raiders.”
“Couldn’t that happen if you leave me here alone?” I sat up on the
bed and crossed my arms again.
“Kuna will stay with you.”
“No way! She’s more likely to eat me than a bear is.”
“She’s never eaten anyone who’s alive.” I wanted to think that he
was joking but I didn’t know if Joshua was capable.
I knew he could feel me glaring but he didn’t look up from his
breakfast plate. “You’re serious.”
“About?”
“All of it. You’re going to some end of the world black market
where all women are slave prostitutes? And you’re going to leave me with
your man eating dog?” Okay, maybe I was being a little dramatic.
“Yup.”
 Quieter, I added “and you kept this a secret until now because you
don’t really trust me.” Selfish as it was, that part bothered me as much as
the rest. He said there was no one else around and I believed him. What else
was he keeping from me?
After breakfast Joshua left with a backpack that probably weighed
more than me and a promise to be back “sometime before tomorrow.” Kuna
whimpered at the door, eventually settling down in front of it to wait. Every
time I stepped off the bed she snarled until I sat back down. It was going to
be a long, boring day.
An hour dragged on with nothing to distract me from the lingering
sting of Joshua’s words. A burden. That was how he saw me. A burden that
for some ridiculous reason—a reason that he still hadn’t divulged after two
months—he accepted as his own.
You are not a burden, Liv.
I wasn’t. Or at least, I didn’t have to be.
My disappointment shifted into determination. I was not a burden
and I would prove it. An idea hit me almost immediately, one that would
benefit both of us. Even if he didn’t appreciate it, I would. Besides, I was
going to lose my mind if I had to spend the whole day in bed. The only
problem was that I didn’t know where he kept his cleaning supplies. Well,
the only other problem. The first problem was the dog.
Kuna stood and growled when I slipped off the bed. I waited a few
minutes until she sat back down in front of the door. Then I took a few steps
toward the kitchen. She growled again but didn’t stand. We repeated this
dance for almost twenty minutes before she finally lowered herself onto her
belly with a sigh. Beady eyes followed my movement through the house but
apparently, I wasn’t threatening enough for her to continue the effort.
I shouldn’t have. I know I shouldn’t have but as soon as the dog was
off my back, I tried the handle on the door I was forbidden to open. It was
locked. I stood on my tiptoes to reach the top of the door frame to look for a
key. There wasn’t one. I ducked down to the floor to look under instead.
Faint light cast the shadows of furniture onto the floor. A threadbare red rug
with faded gold filigree covered most of the floor. That was all I could
make out.
It was obvious that Joshua kept supplies in there. He couldn’t
exactly hide that he went in empty handed and came out with bandages,
balms, and food. That was why it remained a secret after all this time. If
Joshua didn’t trust me enough to tell me there were other people in the area,
he definitely wouldn’t trust me with his supplies.
When I couldn’t pry the door, I dropped my curiosity and opened
the cupboard under the sink. There was a hand broom, a dustpan, and a
duster, as well as several cleaning cloths. There were no cleaning supplies
besides a spray bottle of some unknown liquid that smelled like vinegar but
I could make do.
My first course of action was to clean the kitchen. It was by far the
dirtiest part of the house, which was gross considering how often we used
it. I wiped down the dishes and set them in the rack to dry. The countertops
were next. They were coated with breadcrumbs, sticky jam stains, and
grease spots. They practically glittered when I was done with them. The
stove and the table weren’t left out of my scrubbing frenzy.
After the kitchen, I went crazy with the feather duster. There was
hardly a surface in the entire house that didn’t sport a fine layer of dust. By
the time I was finished with the furniture, I was actually having fun. This
felt so normal. When was the last time I did something normal? For
someone so strange, Joshua had given me quite a few tastes of normal life.
Kuna became wary of me again when I started sweeping. The hand
broom required me to crouch on the floor and it offended her that I was on
her level. She never got up from her spot by the door though, only watched
me with quivering jowls.
Joshua really was gone the whole day. The sun was barely up when
he left. By afternoon I was still alone. That worked out fine. Despite the
space being small, it took the bulk of the day to clean the cabin. I was
definitely going to have bruises on my knees in addition to a sore back after
mopping.
I finished my cleaning spree with the fireplace. The hills of ash that
accumulated there were so large they were beginning to spill out onto the
hearth. It was a painstaking effort but I managed to scoop most of the burnt
debris into a filthy cloth I found under the wood pile. It was a great idea
until I got to the part where I wanted to dump it out.
No way was Kuna going to let me open the front door. I had to
devise an escape plan. I managed to jerk the window above the fireplace
open but only after practically getting into a fist fight with it. I probably
wasn’t going to be able to get the screen back on and hide the fact that I
climbed out. Joshua should have known I would need to go pee more than
once in a whole day. It was his fault I had to climb through the window in
the first place.
Jumping out a window, even on the first floor, was not as easy as it
looked in movies. I went out feet first with my front facing in. I had a good
grip on the windowsill but it was higher up than I thought and I was left
with my legs dangling. I took one hand off to toss the ash cloth and fell on
my butt. Bruise number forty five.
Once outside, I made my way to the outhouse. First, I emptied the
cloth into the pit. Then I took a really long pee. When I was done, I paused
to inhale the fresh air and enjoy the cool hint of autumn. I hadn’t been
outside without Joshua, even if I was allowed to roam most of the time, and
it felt kind of liberating to be on my own.
It also felt kind of scary. No one could get me out here, of course. At
least, I didn’t think they could. The fence wasn’t impenetrable but it was
pretty dang close.
A big fir groaned as a strong breeze rocked the trees and I jumped.
Time to stop thinking about bad guys and get back inside before I gave
myself a heart attack. I was headed for the shack when I caught a glimpse
of yellow. In a grassy area on the outskirts of the trees was a patch of
wildflowers. I quickly picked a few of the bushiest ones, the final touch to
turn a clean house into a clean home.
Climbing back through the window proved even harder than
climbing out. Eventually I gave up jumping for the windowsill and hunted
down something to give me a step up. I found a thick cut piece of a log in
the woodpile and rolled it up against the wall. I finally made it through the
window by clambering onto the unstable log only to find myself face to
face with Kuna. I righted myself quickly and squared my shoulders.
“What are you going to do? Eat me?” I gave her my most ferocious
look. I guess that was all it took to prove myself to the massive dog. She
backed off and returned to her silent vigil by the door.
The sun was barely above the tree line when Joshua got home. I
knew he was coming before I heard him because Kuna leapt up and pressed
her nose in the crack of the door, whimpering and wagging her tail madly.
What I didn’t expect was for him to fling the door open, eyes wild with
alarm. The moment he saw me reclining on the bed with a book in hand he
straightened and quickly fixed the standard frown onto his features.
 I saw that. I thought teasingly before realizing that alarm on
Joshua’s face might be something that should worry me.
“Is everything alright?” I marked my page and set the book on the
nightstand.
“You left.” He said it so coldly I almost shivered. I actually
preferred it when he raised his voice.
“Not exactly.”
“The window screen is on the ground. I thought you—” He shook
his head sharply and closed the door behind him with a slam. “I told you to
stay here.”
“I had to pee.” This wasn’t the reaction I was hoping for when he
got home.
“Hold it next time.”
“I didn’t realize I was your prisoner.” I lowered my gaze to hide my
disappointment.
“Good girl, Kuna.” Joshua turned his attention to the dog and tossed
her a strip of jerky. She scarfed it down, tail still wagging. He opened the
door again to let her outside. She took off in a sprint. “At least one of you
knows how to wait.”
“I’m not some obedient dog.” I rose from the bed and stomped over
to him. “Why are you being such a jerk? It must be a day that ends in ‘Y.’”
“You’re too sensitive.” He heaved his pack off his shoulders and
onto one of the dining room chairs.
“Have you ever considered that maybe you’re a little
too insensitive?”
“Don’t take it personally.” He shrugged, much less irritated than he
tried to appear now that he realized I hadn’t made a break for it. Why did he
care so much? I couldn’t even read a compass. How was I going to
remember where the farm was and tell someone else about it, assuming I
could even find someone else to tell?
Joshua was unbuckling a pocket on the top of his pack when he noticed
the flowers. “What’s this?”
“Um, flowers.” Picking them for him felt stupid now. Joshua didn’t
care about décor.
“That’s goldenrod. It’s in the book you were just reading,”
“Is it useful? I thought it might liven things up in here.”
“Everything can be useful.”
 “Even me?” The words tumbled out before I could stop them.
Joshua gave me a weird look. “’The hell kind of question is that?”
One born of the insecurities you’ve nurtured with your bad
attitude. I only shrugged and moved the flowers from the table so he could
unpack his bag.
He focused on fixing up a fire before unloading. The temperature
was dropping and soon the cabin would be chilly. He knelt beside the
hearth, stared at it for a second, then frowned over his shoulder. “It’s clean.”
“I tidied up. I needed something to do.” I swallowed. “And maybe
you could think of it as a thank you.”
He stiffened and I was afraid that he was angry. I’m sure he could
find a reason to be. I snooped through his house or touched something that
didn’t belong to me or wasted precious calories. “You don’t have to.”
“I want to.” I hooked one pointer finger on the other and looked
down at them. “Thank you, Joshua. I know I’m taking up a lot of your time
and energy.”
“I, um.” He cleared his throat and returned to his task. “I didn’t
mean it like that. What I said this morning.”
“It’s okay. I understand. I’m not exactly helpful.” Truth be told, it
wasn’t okay, but how was I to express that to him? I didn’t think it would go
over well if I tried to explain that he hurt my feelings.
“You are.”
I laughed softly. “I’m sorry I called you a jerk. You don’t have to
flatter me to make up for being short.”
“I mean it.”
I lifted my head hopefully. “Maybe when I’m strong enough I can
be helpful as your market companion.”
“Not a chance in hell.”
“I’m going to get cabin fever.” I blinked pleading eyes at him.
He fanned a spark, placing more kindling around it when it bloomed
“Most trading posts will never be safe for women. I’ll take you somewhere
else. When you can carry your weight in supplies, that is.”
“Really?” I squealed. Joshua scowled when he joined me at the
table. Right, he didn’t like enthusiasm. I pressed my lips together and
calmly said. “I would like that.”
Now if only he would tell me where somewhere else was. Two days
ago, I had no clue there were trading posts. I thought maybe we were the
only two people still alive in the foothills, besides the men that chased me
into Joshua’s woods.
He didn’t expound on his vague promise as he began unpacking.
Apparently good meat, especially smoked and properly dried, was
becoming scarce. Not just because of the shifting seasons but also because
not a lot of people knew how to properly process it. Illness from food was
becoming much more commonplace simply because people tried to save
meat or other food products and didn’t do it safely. That meant Joshua was
becoming a valuable trader.
To all of these people that were apparently around. I was only
a teensy bit bitter that he’d kept it from me.
He explained that meat used to fetch him small items like bandages,
toiletries, and fabric. Now he was offered seeds, packaged food items,
medicine, and in one case, ammunition. That was mostly what he brought
home, bullets for his rifle, radish, beet, and turnip seeds, toilet paper, a roll
of bandages, a small container of antibiotics, and scraps of black fabric. He
handed the fabric to me with a grunt.
I examined the familiar shape. “What is this?”
“To replace your tampons.”
“These are period pads?” I withdrew and set them back down on the
table.
“They’re not used.” If Joshua was the type of person to roll his eyes
he would have.
“I prefer tampons.”
“Good luck finding some.”
“These are fabric. You have to,” I paused for dramatic effect and
lowered my voice. “wash them.”
My discomfort clearly irritated him. “You have to wash your clothes
too.”
“Where did you even get these?”
“Trading post.” Now he was looking at me like I was brainless.
“Yeah, duh! I mean where did you get them there? Who makes
these?” I did roll my eyes.
“Frank’s wife sews them. She makes underwear too, not that you
need any.”
“Glad to know you’re keeping track of my underwear.” I muttered,
then straightened when I realized what he’d said. “Wait, so Frank’s wife
gets to go to the trading post? Why can’t I?”
Joshua stared at me with that flat expression. He kept staring for
what felt like ten minutes, studying me like he genuinely couldn’t figure out
how to justify himself.
“Joshua? Where’d you go?”
“Frank’s wife doesn’t come.” He came around the table and strode
past me. “And Frank’s wife carries a gun.”
Oh, right. Guns evened the playing field for just about everyone in
the end of the world. They weren’t really my cup of tea. I was fairly certain
I wouldn’t be able to shoot someone when I needed to. I would probably
just end up shooting myself by mistake.
“While we’re on the topic, who’s Frank? How did we go from there
being no one around and everything being looted to you trading with people
you’re familiar with on a first name basis?”
Another blank expression. Too blank. That was a look I’d come to
know as a dead giveaway for Joshua lying. Okay, maybe not lying.
Omitting. He was keeping things from me, many more things than I initially
suspected. Just when I thought I’d earned a modicum of trust. He’d only
given enough to appease me. Apparently, I was easily appeased.
Why though? Keeping secrets about himself, protecting his own
privacy, that I understood. Why hide that there were other people around? I
couldn’t understand his logic.
“I have something else for you. And something to show you.” He
successfully changed the subject when he headed for the forbidden door and
unlocked it, beckoning for me to join him.
I wasn’t so stupid that I couldn’t see he was avoiding the
conversation. For now, I would let him. He was never forthcoming with
these sorts of topics. I would have to wear him down and this evening
wasn't the right time to push.
Joshua swung the door open and stepped inside, disappearing into
darkness. I tried to peer in from the doorway. There was one window on the
far wall but with the sun below the horizon, I couldn’t make out more than
grey hues through dirty glass. A faint light flickered to life, Joshua lighting
candles on a wall sconce. I crept toward the glow.
My expectations for this room were all over the place. I joked that it
held everything from the bodies of his serial murder victims to the
enchanted rose that made him such an angry beast. Whatever it was, it was
private and suddenly Joshua was letting me see it. The line between trust
and mistrust was confusingly blurry with him.
I was standing in a personal library. That had to be what it was
because every inch of wall was covered in shelves and every one of those
shelves was covered with books. Overfilled with books. Once a shelf was
full, more books were squeezed in above the others. Even more books were
stacked neatly on the very top of some of the shelves.
No two shelves looked alike. It seemed as if each time a bookshelf
was full, a new one was brought in with no concern for how it looked or if
it matched the other. When I made a half circle around the room, I realized
one of the “shelves” wasn’t even a shelf; it was a wooden bed frame for a
single bed standing upright with shelves and sturdy feet screwed into the
base.
I tried to scan the titles to see what kinds of books he read but all it
told me was that there didn’t appear to be a type of book Joshua didn’t read.
Some were fiction I recognized like The Lord of the Flies but others were
non-fiction, like one titled Bushcrafting for Beginners. Despite the untidy
appearance, the books were carefully organized by author.
Based on the wear and discoloration, this was a collection built over
a lifetime. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine Joshua as a little boy, lying
on the floor in this room and reading by candlelight. Or perhaps, on the rug
next to the fire with baby Kuna curled up beside him. It was a sweet image.
Until now, I never could have imagined Joshua as innocent and hopeful.
Maybe even happy.
Dang. He was smart. Not just street smart—or, um, survival smart—
but book smart. If he’d read even half the material on those shelves, he was
way ahead of me and my half finished college education. The man was full
of surprises.
“This was my room.” He explained as he lifted the tattered red rug
and messed with something on the floor.
“When you were a kid? This is where you grew up?”
“Yes. I was born in this room.”
“You were born in this room? Like your mom gave birth to you in
here?”
He looked up sharply, bemused by my shock. “Yes.”
“That is so Little House on the Prairie.” I joked, though I’d never
read any of those books. Joshua probably had. “You were born in this house
and you still live here. Do you like it?”
“Sure.”
There was a loud squeak and then a groan as he pulled one of the
floorboards and—I kid you not—a trap door opened. “Okay, so your old
room has a secret passage? Does this take you to Narnia?”
“Takes you to the cellar. C’mon.” He waved me over.
I took two reluctant steps forward and eyed the dark hole in the
floor. “You promise this isn’t your murder basement?”
“It’s a cellar, not a basement.” Not the part I was hoping he would
clarify. God forbid I call his murder cellar a basement by mistake.
“Ah, how reassuring. Is there a light?”
Joshua plucked a small flashlight from his pocket and handed it to
me. I clicked it on and shone it down the hole. I couldn’t see much other
than a metal ladder and a dirt floor. Considering I was standing in a building
that was little more than a shack, I shouldn’t have been so surprised to see a
dirt floor inside. It seemed like something from a peasant’s house in ancient
times. Or maybe I just didn’t know as much about country living as I
thought I did.
The feeling might not be mutual, but I trusted Joshua. Really, I did. That
didn’t mean I wasn’t more than a little nervous about climbing down a
rickety ladder into his secret cellar while he stood at the top and watched
me. He trusted me enough to show it to me though, so I decided I should
trust him not to lock me in there with his freak twin brother who ate human
flesh.
I did spend a few seconds psyching myself up by going over all the
times he had an opportunity to lock me in this cellar and didn’t, including
this morning when I threatened to follow him. If he’d really wanted me to
stay, he would have thrown me in the murder dungeon, right?
The metal rungs on the ladder were icy under my bare feet. So was
the air around me and the ground when I reached it. I wrapped my arms
around myself and shivered. Now that I was down here and Joshua was
holding the light, I couldn’t see anything. It was scarier than I thought it
would be. I started recalling every horror movie I’d ever seen with a
basement or a creepy trap door and all the monsters that lived in them.
When Joshua skipped the last few rungs on the ladder and leapt down with
a thump, I let out a startled scream.
 He reached out clumsily in the dark until his hand landed on my
shoulder. I’m not positive he was intending to touch me reassuringly or just
making sure I hadn’t toppled over. As soon as he made contact, he
withdrew and asked, “What happened?”
“You scared me.” I giggled nervously.
He shifted away from me to light more candles. I gasped again, this
time in total shock at how big the space was. It seemed to be about the size
of the entire cabin. To my right there were metal shelves loaded with jars of
canned goods—probably homegrown and homemade—as well as several
big ceramic crocks. Next to that were wooden stands with wide, tray-like
shelves. One was filled with apples. The other had a variety of potatoes.
So this was where he stored the food he grew.
Behind the ladder was two metal filing cabinets labeled “seeds.”
That was quite the collection of seeds and Joshua came home with even
more today. I supposed seeds were pretty darn important for a farmer.
“You have a lot of seeds.”
He shrugged. “I need a lot of seeds.”
To my left there was more shelving. These ones, however, had
massive plastic containers on them, labeled with a variety of grains, beans,
and other pantry items. They had to be at least twenty gallons each and
there were probably twenty five of them. It was a lot of supplies for just one
man.
“So, is this like your medieval root cellar?” I turned to look back at him.
He was staring at me. Why was he always staring?
“Why is it medieval?”
“Because the floor is made of dirt. Plus, look at all the candles.
Totally medieval.”
“I have a few history books for you to look at when you’re done
with the plant ones.” Whoa, was that a joke? He was practically being a
person.
I grinned. “Make me a reading list since apparently you’re a
bookworm.”
There was a small wall separating the rest of the cellar from the food
storage area. Joshua was still standing at the base of the ladder—and yes,
staring at me—so I assumed he was letting me do the exploring. I stepped
through the doorway and froze. The light from the candles was blocked by
the wall that separated the two rooms.
 “Joshua?” I couldn’t hear or see him but the moment I said his name
I felt him behind me. Even when he didn’t have a shadow, I could sense
him looming over me.
He lit more candles without a word. When the room was
illuminated, he quietly said, “Okay.”
I wasn’t sure exactly what he meant was okay but he almost seemed
nervous. Once my eyes adjusted to the candlelight and I saw what was in
front of me, I understood why he might be. I also understood why he had to
trust me before he let me see this.
“Whoa. Not so medieval after all.” I couldn’t believe what I was
seeing. I knew he was prepared but not this prepared.
We weren’t standing in a root cellar anymore. We were in a bunker.
The walls were thick concrete and there was an even thicker metal hatch
with a little round window that I hadn’t noticed when I stepped through the
opening. There were two vents on the ceiling that I assumed brought in
fresh air from outside. Lining three of the walls were more heavy duty
storage shelves.
They had everything you might expect to see in a doomsday bunker.
Sleeping bags and cots, dried food, potable water tanks, emergency medical
kits, flashlights, hunting equipment, winter gear, toilet paper, and so on.
You needed it to survive, Joshua had it.
The fourth wall was almost completely filled with guns, big military
looking ones. There were gas masks hanging above them and boxes of
ammunition. Lots and lots of boxes.
I followed the distinct hum of electricity to the far right corner and
noticed a freezer chest. Joshua had solar panels on the roof and the
woodshed but with how cloudy some of the days were, I hadn’t imagined he
got enough power for a fridge, a well pump, and a freezer chest. It would
explain why there were no lights in the house. The electricity had more
important places to be.
Well, if I had to pick a guy to rescue me during the end of the world,
I picked the right one.
“Are you one of those survivalist people?” Whatever reaction he
was expecting from me, it wasn’t the calm question I posed.
Joshua blew out a breath. “Grandad was. My Pops too. He raised me
to be prepared for anything.”
“Did you think the rapture was coming?”
 His lips hitched upward. “No rapture. Dad was expecting something
—tyrannical government, disease, famine, war, any of it.”
“It’s a shame he didn’t get to see the world end. I bet he’d feel
awfully proud of himself for being right.”
“He did get to see it.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I guess I just assumed…” I stumbled through my
words. It was rare for Joshua to talk about his father and when he did it was
more to explain the source of his information. I realized now that it might
be because he was still grieving. “How long has it been?”
“Eight months.”
“How did he…?”
No! Remove foot from mouth, don’t shove it in further. I finally got
him to relax and trust me and now he’s going to shut down again.
His reply was terse. “He left for supplies and never came back.”
“I’m sorry, Joshua.” He was quiet for a long time, leaving me to
stare awkwardly at the gun rack with him at my back. I wanted to turn
around so I could see his face but if he was upset, he wouldn’t want me to
look at him.
“He was proud.” Joshua finally spoke, then added, “He thought
everyone else was a fool for bumblin’ around with no clue what to do
without electricity. He was proud to be the man that would survive the end
of the world—ironically.”
I resisted the urge to laugh, half because I was relieved and half
because I couldn’t believe he said his father’s death was ironic. “I bet he
would be proud of you now.”
I felt Joshua stiffen before expertly changing the subject again. “I
have something for you upstairs. Help me bring the supplies down and I’ll
give it to you after.”
That was all I needed to put the spring back in my step. “You have
something for me? Something useful?”

[Link]
 13
Good Tears

I never would have imagined that Joshua liked surprises. Being the
one to surprise, that is, not being surprised himself. After my tour of the
cellar I helped him unload supplies. Then he started on dinner without even
mentioning whatever the something was that he brought for me. I tried to
play it cool by asking him more questions about the cellar and the survival
gear—without mentioning his father again—and chattered on about my
uneventful day.
Despite the lull in his mood after talking about his dad, Joshua
appeared to be in good spirits. It was hard to tell with him. A lack of a
frown wasn’t necessarily an indicator of happiness for most people but I
was beginning to believe that with him, it was a very good sign. Not only
did he talk to me while he was cooking dinner, he let me help for the first
time. Okay, he let me cut a carrot and wash some chard. I wasn’t exactly the
sous chef.
It was another token of trust. I would take it.
“So,” I swallowed a bite of venison. It took eight weeks but I’d
finally lost the battle over my vegetarianism. Joshua would stand his ground
through a lightning storm.
Stubborn man.
“After dinner.”
“You don’t even know what I was going to say!”
“You were going to pretend like you haven’t been wondering what I
brought you this whole time and ‘casually’ ask about it.” Joshua didn’t
smile when he made air quotes but that glitter in his eyes was definitely
amusement.
“I was not.” I mumbled into my last forkful of food.
“Mhmm.”
“So, you’ve read every book published in the last hundred years,
you know how to survive in the wild, you’re a successful farmer, and now
you’re a mind reader too? Impressive.”
Joshua denied my praise with, “You’re not impressed.”
 “Of course I am.” I took both our plates and rinsed them, saying
over my shoulder, “And just because I’m easily impressed doesn’t mean it’s
not a compliment.”
“Sit.” He commanded.
I practically leapt from the sink back to my chair. The legs
screeched across the floor in my haste to be seated. More amusement
played across his face. I grinned and folded my hands in front of me like a
polite child. He didn’t get up from the table. I tried to make my grin look
more eager. He still didn’t get up.
“Well?” I asked impatiently.
Joshua stood, making a painfully slow trip to his pack. He unzipped a
pocket on the very top. A plastic bag crinkled in his hands, tucked behind
his back and out of view. By the time he was back in his chair I was
wiggling with excitement. I didn’t even care what it was. I was just thrilled
that he brought me something.
“A man came from further west today with a bunch of packaged
food.” He tossed the plastic bag onto the table and scratched his fingers
through his beard. “It’s not chocolate, not really, but it’s about as close as
we get these days.”
I looked from Joshua to the bag of Tootsie Rolls and realized there
were tears welling in my eyes. I wasn’t crying over a bag of candy. I mean,
I guess technically I was. It wasn’t really about the candy. It was Joshua. I
had no idea he was actually paying enough attention to my almost one sided
conversations in the evening to remember my chocolate lamentations.
Being isolated for an extended amount of time can warp your view
on human interaction. The tiniest experience with another person can seem
dramatically good. He did save my life which was pretty dramatic and
definitely good but his motivations could have been unsavory.
It was easy for me to romanticize his actions simply because he
rescued me. Kindness and friendship didn’t come as naturally to him as it
did some people but he was trying. How was I supposed to thank him
without making him uncomfortable?
Was he happy that I cleaned the house? I could do that again. Or
maybe cook dinner. Somehow, I didn’t think breaking down into tears and
gasping thanks was the right way to do it.
I rubbed my pointer fingers under my eyes to catch any stray tears—
which wasn’t exactly subtle but by now he’d noticed that I was crying—and
smiled softly at him. “That’s very sweet of you, Joshua.”
Disappointment flashed across his face but he hid it well, his words
coming out neutral. “You don’t like these?”
“No, no, I do!” Just as I opened my mouth to speak a single tear
slipped from the corner of my eye. Joshua watched it slide down my cheek
and form a droplet on my chin.
“You’re upset?”
“Sometimes people cry when they’re happy.”
“I’ve never seen anyone cry when they’re happy.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “And it’s only real if you’ve seen it with
your own two eyes, right?”
“No.”
“Thank you, Joshua, for the gift. It was really thoughtful. And for
everything. Oh gosh, I’m sorry I know I already said that and you don’t like
it when I…sorry.” I wiped under my eyes again, my smile watery.
“C’mon.” He grabbed the bag and headed over to his chair by the
fire. I took a few deep breaths to calm myself before following him to the
hearth.
Joshua handed me the bag when I settled cross-legged by the fire.
“Thanks.” I said again, quietly so it didn’t sound like I was making a big
deal of it.
I pinched the plastic and yanked it open. It smelled like childhood
memories of piñatas and birthday parties and hiding under my bed to eat
Halloween candy my parents didn’t know I had. I plucked two candies out
of the bag, one for me and one for Joshua. He took the offered candy very,
very hesitantly.
“Do you dislike them?” I asked, untwisting the wrapper.
He turned the candy in his hand to examine it, eyeing it like it might
bite him. “I’ve never had one.”
“You’ve never had a Tootsie Roll?”
“No.”
“Okay, what’s your favorite candy then?” My mouth was watering
but I was waiting until Joshua opened his.
“I don’t have one.”
I dropped my jaw in dramatic astonishment. “You don’t like
candy?”
“Never had any.”
 “You’ve never—yeah right. You’re messing with me.” I waved a
dismissive hand at him.
“Nope. I’ve never eaten candy. Actually, I had dark chocolate at a
movie theater once. It was bitter.”
“That doesn’t count! Only old people and chefs eat dark chocolate.”
I teased. “Wait, so you’ve been to a movie theater but you’ve never had
candy?”
“My parents thought processed food was poison.”
“They’re not wrong. Now open that up and poison yourself with
me.” I jerked my chin, rather impatient at this point.
Joshua carefully peeled away the wrapper, glowering at it
suspiciously. He pinched the roll between his pointer finger and thumb and
said, “You realize what this looks like, right?”
“Oh, come on! It looks like chocolate.”
“It looks like dog shit.”
“Just eat it already!” I popped the taffy into my mouth and winced
when I tried to bite down. It was pretty hard—rock solid, actually. I picked
up the bag and took a second look. There was a jack-o-lantern on the front
and the date was from two Halloweens ago.
Joshua grimaced as he attempted to chew. He struggled with the
candy for about thirty seconds before spitting it out into the wrapper. “You
like this?”
“They’re supposed to be soft. But yes, I do.”
“It’s sickly sweet.” That was the first time I’d heard someone sound
offended by a piece of candy.
I grinned and sang, “More for me.”
Joshua watched in fascination—or maybe horror—as I unwrapped
four more. When I’d consumed as many as I dared, I flopped backward
onto the rug, tilting my head up to whisper more gratitude to him. His lips
twitched, curling up into the slightest self-satisfied curve. That was a Joshua
smile, a really nice one. It made me notice something I’d seen on our walk
in the woods. Actually, it was something I was noticing with growing
frequency.
Joshua wasn’t pretty like the clean-shaven, well dressed, country
club boys I was accustomed to and that, I decided, was part of his appeal.
He was what people called ruggedly handsome, I imagined. It was a bit
cliché but I finally understood what the phrase meant. His beard was a little
overgrown, his brow broad in way that made him look stern, his aquiline
nose sported a bump from a previous break, but there was a hidden charm
to those features.
The longer we were together, the more I got glimpses at Joshua’s
softer side. He wouldn’t meet my gaze but I could still see the way his
brown eyes relaxed to that warm, melted chocolate color. I’d take that over
candy any day.
Maybe the end of the world wasn’t so bad after all.

[Link]
 14
Honey-Do
Joshua
Damn woman was going to give him an aneurism. If Joshua had
known there was such a nettling, stubborn personality hiding behind that
skinny frame, he might have thought twice about bringing her home. He
thought her silent, frightened demeanor meant she would be easy to handle.
Nothing about that damn woman was easy. It should have been obvious
when the blathering began. He’d assumed she was only chattering so much
because she was overwhelmed by the sudden presence of another person.
In between all of that talking she’d gone through these quiet spells.
They lasted just long enough to lull him into a false sense of security. His
noiseless peace wasn’t at risk with a woman who lay unmoving in bed,
blank gaze fixed on the wall. Maybe he ruined it by checking up on her,
unintentionally giving her permission to speak to him on a social level. It
wasn’t like he’d been cossetting and hovering. Joshua only wanted to make
sure she wasn’t ill. Then she’d get him ill and put even more stress on his
routine.
Somehow, he gave her the impression that they were friends.
Helping someone when they were in a dire situation didn’t make you their
friend, it only meant you weren’t a complete piece of shit. No one taught
her that, unfortunately. She went on and on, asking personal questions.
When he was unresponsive, she acted as if he’d asked her the same,
blabbering on about herself and her life. Sometimes she was entertaining
but if Joshua admitted as much then it would only invite her to keep at it.
Not that she needed an invitation. Maybe she would have given up a
long time ago if she wasn’t so damn good at reading him. Joshua didn’t
smile nor did he laugh and somehow she still knew when she amused him.
That seemed to nullify any of his excessively unsociable behavior because
it convinced her he was faking it. Which he wasn’t, obviously. Joshua did
not have to pretend to be anything for anyone.
Being unfriendly wasn’t an act. That was who he was and she
needed to get over.
 Instead of accepting it, she accused him of being petulant. Petulant!
Like he was a misbehaved child and not a grown man who towered over her
and outweighed her by a hundred and fifty pounds. He almost liked it better
when she was scared of him.
On second thought, he didn’t. That made him feel bad—guilty, even
—and far too much like his father. Another way she irritated him without
even doing anything. What business did she have coming into his home and
making him feel guilty for being—what? Tall? Gruff? It wasn’t like he’d
done anything to her. In fact, he avoided touching her whenever possible.
That guilt must have made him too soft. As soon as she saw an
opening, she was suddenly invading his life with far too much expertise for
someone as innocent as her. The woman had assaulted him from every
angle and she was quickly winning battles.
One minute she’d been pale and exhausted, sleeping most of the day
and night, too weak to even lift firewood. The next she was scrubbing his
floors, washing his curtains, and threatening—or maybe offering—to
do his laundry. She was even climbing his countertops to dust away
cobwebs.
Joshua couldn’t say why that pissed him off but it was the final
straw. He didn’t think he could take it anymore. This was his cabin, his
space, and she couldn’t just show up and start changing things. For all she
knew, he wanted those cobwebs in the corner above the cabinet. Maybe he
liked mud on the floor and ashes spilling out of the fireplace.
Nope, he definitely was not petulant.
Probably the most annoying part about her was that she managed to
wheedle him out of his shitty attitude, and in the strangest ways. When
Joshua came in from the garden and caught her standing precariously on the
counter, he was livid. What if she fell and broke a bone or gave herself a
concussion? That would be one more burden on his back. So, he dropped
what he was doing, grabbed her by the hips, and tried to haul her off the
counter.
Normally he wouldn’t put hands on her but she needed a reminder
of who was in charge here. He wasn’t against manhandling to make a point.
If he said no climbing, there would be no climbing. Period. Only, she didn’t
budge. She just kicked him.
It didn’t hurt anything but his ego. Yeah, Joshua could admit that.
He didn’t like someone that small thinking they had so much power over
him.
Maybe she wouldn’t have felt so bold if he’d kept his fuse lit but the
image of her standing with one foot on his chest, wiggling the duster like he
wasn’t there, was too damn funny. It was an effort not to bust out laughing.
Now she was at it again and based on the cursing—if he could call it
that—coming through the kitchen window, she finally did hurt herself.
After she harvested from the garden, fed the chickens, and picked what
apples and pears she could carry, Joshua sent her in to rest.
She was intent on helping—his fault, really, because he made her
think she wasn’t pulling her weight—but that didn’t mean she was
physically equipped to. The damn woman was busy cleaning almost every
evening.
That was one of two things that sent him storming up the steps.
Joshua already intended to give her a verbal thrashing before he heard all of
her whimpering. If she hurt herself doing something as pointless as
reorganizing the top shelf in the dish cabinet, he was going to be pissed. He
stopped by the door and stomped mud off his boots before entering, per the
demand of the woman who had appointed herself keeper of the floors.
He’d given up arguing with her over certain issues. The little
masochist enjoyed it too much.
Through the open window Joshua heard her grumble “darn it,” “stupid
thingy,” and “this is so rotten.” That was about as close as she came to
swearing.
“Olivia!” Joshua flung the door open. “Where are my damn
clothes?”
“Uh oh, I’m Olivia today.” She lifted her green eyes, not to him but
to the black dog standing in the doorway behind him, and smirked. “That
means I’m really in trouble.”
“What did you do with my laundry?” He ground out, kicking his
boots off in a messy pile because he knew it annoyed her.
“I don’t know if you noticed but it’s raining.” She gave his wet hair
and raincoat a pointed look. “Correct me if I was wrong but I assumed you
didn’t want your clothes getting a second wash after you put all that effort
into drying them. I put everything over there.” She paused to point to the
bed, where his clothes were neatly folded and stacked. “PS, I fixed your
favorite shirt.”
 Joshua didn’t have a favorite shirt. There was a flannel that he
preferred over others because it had extra give in the sleeves and didn’t lock
his arms up. Last week he’d snagged it on something in the woodshed and
popped half the buttons off. It was on his mental list to fix it but he’d been
especially busy trying to make sure he got transplants done in the
greenhouse and hadn’t gotten around to it.
Choosing to ignore what she said, Joshua slammed the door behind
him and began dumping the contents of his pockets onto the counter nearest
the entryway.
“If I learn how to weave a basket, will you put all of your stuff in it
so the counter doesn’t get cluttered?” She asked, returning her gaze to the
hand she had spread palm up over the table.
He grunted a “no” and kicked his boots out of the way a little harder
than necessary.
A sound that could have been a laugh came from her as he made his
way over to the bed, peeled his damp layers of shirt off, and pulled on a
fresh t-shirt. When he picked up the newly mended flannel, he paused to
examine her handiwork. Some of the buttons were slightly mismatched in
color but they were all a translucent shade of brown. Excluding the one just
below the collar, he realized.
Where the hell did she find a button with a heart on it? Did she
seriously draw a fucking heart on a button just to piss him off?
“’The hell is goin’ on in here?” Joshua circled the table where she
was still messing with her hand.
She actually perked up and smiled at him. “How was your day?”
“You gonna answer my question?”
She smiled wider. “Are you going to answer mine?”
No, he wasn’t going to, just as he hadn’t every single day that she’d
asked him that ridiculous question. What kind of question was that anyway?
What did it matter how his day was? He got up and put himself to work.
Same shit, different day. Why did she want to know? It wasn’t like she
cared.
Did she?
Joshua frowned at her. “What are you swearing about in here?”
“Splinters.” She sighed sheepishly and held up a pair of tweezers
before fixing her attention on her hand again.
“Where’d you get splinters?”
 “Underneath the table.” The tweezer clinked onto the wood surface
as her clumsy left hand dropped them. “Aw poop!”
A snort escaped before he could stop it. He cleared his throat to
disguise the sound. Based on the way her pink lips turned upward, she
noticed anyway. Joshua refrained from doing anything she would consider
sulky in order to hide his amusement and took the seat next to her.
“Let’s see.” He held out an expectant hand.
She narrowed those unusual green eyes at him, understandably
apprehensive at his sudden gentleness. She might be much better than most
people at seeing through his bullshit but, much to his liking, Joshua still
managed to throw her off balance from time to time.
It surprised her enough to let out a tiny gasp when he leaned across the
table to cup her hand in his. He wasn’t what she called a “touchy-feely”
person. She’d noticed that early on, thankfully not making a deal of it.
The period in Joshua’s life where he received any kind of affection was
short lived. There were plenty of times when his father put hands on Joshua,
but no matter what John claimed, it was never out of love. And even if no
one had given him contact of any kind as a youngster, he still believed he
wouldn’t enjoy the touch of another person. It felt unnatural and invasive.
Why would he want to give up his personal space like that? What could he
gain from intimacy?
Of course, Joshua understood what people gained from certain forms of
intimacy. The motivation behind sex was obvious. There was a craving to
be satisfied. As for the rest? How clingy did someone have to be to feel the
need to hold their partners hand whenever they went anywhere together?
They were walking around with a leash made out of human flesh. That was
the purpose of hand holding between parent and child. What made a
romantic relationship any different?
Overall, he viewed affection between adults as a type of possessive
behavior for the insecure. In his experience, a man was typically
affectionate towards a woman in his company when he felt threatened.
Joshua saw it as more evidence to prove they were all just animals with big
brains. He could acknowledge his own instincts and biology enough to
recognize any longing for touch and closeness was merely a programmed
behavior.
Perhaps he should be grateful to John. The bitter man intended to rid
Joshua of all weakness and he succeeded. Joshua survived easily on his own
out here because he had no need for contact with others.
Nope, there was absolutely never a time where Joshua pondered what
his own voice might sound like responding to someone else’s words. Not
once had he found himself sitting awake in the dead of night and willing his
mind to quit dwelling on the vacant space in his chest that came with such
prolonged solitude.
Normally Joshua made a point to be honest with himself. Under the
current circumstances, he was allowed a little denial. He absolutely could
not and would not form a connection with this damn woman. Even if
sometimes—fine, most of the time—he was becoming comfortable with her
presence. Even if he was relieved not to be—no, he wouldn’t go there. No
use considering this arrangement in too much detail because it could end at
any time. Then he would be alone again and he would regret having let
himself get tied in knots over it.
Anyway, just because he didn’t want to be touched didn’t mean that
Joshua couldn’t touch. He had no problem holding her hand. It wasn’t
intimate, it was a task. There were splinters to be removed and he would do
it swiftly and efficiently. And her petite hand was pleasantly warm,
soothing to his icy skin. Maybe that was why she gasped.
It had begun to rain during the last hour of chores and combined
with a cool wind, it left him clammy and chilled. She must have anticipated
that drop in temperature because she had fire burning hot in the fireplace
and the stove.
“Give me those.” Joshua snapped the tweezers from her and began
plucking at one of about fifteen thin slivers of wood embedded in her skin.
She yelped and jerked her hand when he pulled the first one out. “Hold
still.”
“Be gentler.” She countered.
Joshua grunted and got back to work, gentler this time. At first, he
was focused enough that he didn’t feel it. Then the familiar tingling
sensation made him uncomfortably aware that she was looking at him. It
was only fair. God knew he stared at her. Every chance he got he was
staring at her. Joshua hadn’t spent a lot of time with other people, especially
women, and he’d been trying to figure this one out since she arrived.
Her gaze was much more direct than his. While Joshua might flit his
eyes across her features, studying the pout of her lips and the freckles under
her eyes and the way she wrinkled her nose, she would boldly watch him
with barely a blink. He risked a quick glance at her and saw astonishment.
So he was touching her. What was the big deal? It was hardly more
inappropriate a touch than when she flung herself at him after their run in
with a cougar.
If he was a pettier person, he could point that out but he was not
eager to ever discuss the situation again. He would sooner forget the whole
thing than revisit the sickening fear that clenched his gut at the sound of her
shrieking his name, the anger he’d felt when he realized how careless he’d
been, or the guilt—damn her—she made him feel when he didn’t know how
to give her something as simple as a reassuring pat while she wailed like a
child. That entire day was a mess and, worse, a failure.
Joshua didn’t fail at anything. Not until her.
The worst part was that prior to the cougar encounter, they were
actually having a good time. Joshua didn’t care what Liv thought of his
lifestyle, his cabin, or his damn outhouse. Yet, he discovered that he did
care, just a little, that she liked what he liked. Growing up, Joshua didn’t
have friends. There were other children he occasionally played with in town
when John was running errands but none that he could share interests with.
His interests weren’t those of a child, even when he was one.
The experience of introducing another person to his private world,
the one filled with all the things that made him tick, was completely foreign
to him. It wasn’t his intention to share any of that with her but she had a
way of coaxing unexpected behavior out of him.
That day was supposed to be about hardening her off, showing her what
she had to face if she wanted to live in his world. He realized too late how
absolutely stupid that was. She’d spent nearly half a year surviving on her
own.
Whatever dark and horrible world was out there, she’d seen it.
She’d lived it. And somehow, she still greeted each moment brightly and
eagerly. Joshua expected Liv to be a lot of ways—none of which were
flattering—and so far, she hadn’t met many of those expectations. Every
new plant, mushroom, or bird that he introduced her to absolutely thrilled
her.
Wasn’t that a damn shock? It didn’t matter what random fact or
survival tip Joshua was droning on about, she was captivated. That pleased
him more than he wanted to admit.
 Then the damn cougar happened and the whole thing went to shit.
There was no fixing it after that. Liv’s happy mood vanished and Joshua
was helpless to bring it back.
Hoping to lessen some of the uneasiness that pressed at the nape of
his neck, Joshua spoke. “You have small hands.” And that was why he
didn’t talk to her. His conversation skills made him sound about as brilliant
as a six year old.
“Joshua, your hand is as big as my face.” There she went again,
saying his name like it belonged in her mouth. Did such familiarity come so
easily to others or was it just her?
“What’s your point?” He tightened his fingers around the sides of
her palm as she jerked it a second time. They were only splinters. She could
be so dramatic sometimes.
“I don’t have small hands. You have monster hands.”
“But I don’t have monster sized mugs and you can barely fit those
grabbers around one.”
“Grabbers?” She snickered and wiggled the fingers on her trapped
hand, making it impossible for him to see the last splinters. “You have a
very unique vocabulary.”
“Says Miss Phooey.” He countered. “You gonna tell me how you
got so much wood in your skin?”
“I was trying to scoot the table and my palm slipped. You should
really sand that rough wood under there.” She knocked underneath the table
with her knuckles.
“Waste of time when you could just not move the table.”
“But the floor is sticky and I don’t want to crawl under it to mop.”
She pushed her lips out in that signature pouty way. If he was petulant, she
was whiny.
“So don’t.”
“Wouldn’t it be nice to sit down for dinner and not have your socks
glued to the floor by whatever old food or God only knows what else is
spilled down there?”
He worked his jaw, avoiding an immediate answer because the honest
one would be “yes.” It would be nice, just like it was nice that the curtains
were no longer yellow from age and dust and his nose wasn’t constantly
stuffy from the ashy debris floating into the living room from the fireplace.
As exasperating as it was to suddenly have someone occupying his space,
there were a lot of perks. Joshua was never the tidiest person, but he did
prefer a certain standard of clean. It had been months since he’d had time to
do more than rinse off his dishes and wash his clothes.
Conceding that would guarantee that she kept doing it, thus putting
him in the awkward position of having to feel grateful towards her. Maybe
he needn’t thank her for doing something she chose to do.
When Joshua didn’t say anything more, avoiding the conversation
altogether rather than giving her an answer, the scheming blonde decided
that his silence meant “yes.” That was how it usually went with her. Ignore
her prodding and she would push on as if they were having a two sided
conversation.
“Good, I’ll get it extra clean as soon as you move the table for me.”
Joshua quickly turned his focus back to the last splinter.
“No more rearranging my furniture.” He returned the tweezers to the
first aid kit on the table and circled two fingers across her palm. Because he
was checking for any stray splinters that he missed, of course. Not because
her skin was buttery soft or because the motion seemed to hypnotize her,
drawing her further across the table toward him. Which was why he stopped
the second he was certain he’d done his job. Or a few seconds after,
anyway.
“Thank you, Joshua.” Her tone was breathy. He got up from the
table without responding. That soft smile was too much for him to face just
then.
Joshua groaned when he pulled open the drawer beside the stove to
return the first aid kit and found all of the contents had been rearranged.
The scissors were neatly stacked to one side, the clothespins were tucked in
a little plastic basket that he hadn’t realized he owned, the needles were
returned to the pincushion, and the thread for repairing torn clothing was
ordered by color, based on the rainbow if he wasn’t mistaken.
What was next? Did she plan to go through his underwear drawer
and sort the garments by fabric type? He considered griping at her for
messing with stuff that didn’t belong to her but he had to admit, the drawer
irritated him in its previous state of disarray.
“Do you want dinner? I already made the salad.” Damn woman and
her damn salad.
Somehow, she’d convinced herself that Joshua was going to have a
heart attack if he didn’t start eating more leaves. The little vegetarian hadn’t
been too impressed when he explained that he didn’t have a need to eat
rabbit food when he could just eat the rabbit. Not that Joshua had a problem
with vegetables.
If he was being honest, it was mostly out of stubbornness that he
grumbled about it. And if he continued to be honest, he would admit that
his exaggerated disdain for her salads was no different than when she
complained about all the butter he forced her to put on her bread.
On second thought, there was a difference; it was his cabin and his
kitchen and his food, therefore he was the one responsible for the decisions.
Joshua was supposed to be in charge and it wouldn’t do for him to submit to
some scrawny woman just because she smiled at him like an innocent doe.
He was not a man to be influenced by feminine wiles.
Once again, Joshua didn’t answer. This time he hadn’t intended to
ignore her, he was just too distracted by her sudden presence beside him in
the tight confinement of the kitchen. He seemed to have a heightened
awareness of her whenever she was near. There was a prickling along his
skin, almost like he could feel her aura of heat from more than a foot away.
The sensation was disconcerting enough to draw his attention from
whatever she was saying.
“…didn’t have anything particular in mind I could pull out one of those
cookbooks from your room and try a new recipe.”
“No.” His answer was automatic.
“Okay...I’ll just get out of your way then.” If he hadn’t spent the last
nine weeks with her, he might not have picked up the note of dejection. Ah
shit, that was what he got for speaking without thinking. The cold voice in
his head hardened at the sight of her disappointment. It wasn’t his job to
entertain or satisfy her. What did he care if she was unhappy?
John was a cold bastard too. He reminded himself.
Not influenced by feminine wiles? Yeah, right. She might not be the
evil vixen his father warned him of, but she certainly had her ways of
beguiling. If her displeasure wasn’t so genuine it might not have the stirring
effect that it did. But the damn woman was so naturally effervescent and
sweet that when Joshua’s attitude shattered her good mood, he felt
guilty. Guilty! How the hell did she manage to make him feel so Goddamn
guilty without a single nagging word?
He frowned down at her sad face and muttered, “Fine. Go pick a
book.”
 “Really?” The smile she gave him was so bright it was almost
blinding. “This is going to be so fun!”
While she was perusing the shelf in the other room, Joshua unloaded
vegetables from his basket and cleared the table. He scooped up several
colored pencils and a notebook full of scratch paper, noticing a note written
in red, blue, green, and purple. Since it was sitting on the table, he assumed
it wasn’t private and that it was acceptable for him to read it. Even if it was
private, he would have read it anyway.
As it turned out, it wasn’t a note. It was a to-do list. Instead of a
number or a box to check beside each task, there were doodled hearts and
smiley faces. At the very bottom of the list in sloppy, barely legible writing
she’d written “sand underside of table.” Based on the tasks she’d written
down, Joshua suspected this list was meant for him and not her.
“What’s this?” He waved the paper at her when she returned to the
kitchen with a thick book sporting a rainbow of vegetables on the front. It
would be just his luck that she found the only vegetarian cookbook in his
house.
“It’s a honey-do list!” She answered in a sing-song voice.
“What’s a melon got to do with it?”
That earned him a rush of laughter. “No silly, honey-do. As in honey
do this for me, please.” Honey? Now she was calling him honey? If that
wasn’t the most patronizing shit— “It’s not all urgent but I’ve noticed a few
things that could use some love. I thought if I made a list, we could work
through it and get some of that done before winter.”
We could work through it? Well that was better, but it didn’t mean
he wasn’t pissed that she thought she could order him around. “You think I
don’t have enough to do around here?”
“I know you’re busy, which is why I was going to offer to take over
more garden chores so that you would have time for these. I could cook
dinner more often too, since you’re going to send me in early anyway. I can
probably get some of the smaller tasks done but I have no idea how to fix a
leaking faucet. I know you do.” She winked and flopped the book open on
the table.
Huh, that wasn’t such a bad suggestion. Wait, was she mocking
him? It sounded like a compliment but what reason could she possibly have
to compliment him? There didn’t seem to be a manipulative bone in her
body.
 Fine, she was right. Some of these were important. The
faucet did need fixing because even a few drops a day was a waste of a
precious resource. And that damn kitchen window had been stuck open
since early summer, letting far too much cold air in and making Liv shiver
at the breakfast table. It made her look even more pitiful than she already
did with her thin body wrapped in his oversized clothes.
But there was no way in hell he was going to sand beneath the table
just so the little squirrel could drag his furniture around.
“Do you have any sweet potatoes in the murder dungeon?”
What the hell did I get myself into?
An hour later, after being sent down to the cellar twice, Joshua was
sitting at the table, sipping a glass of moonshine, and watching blondie dish
out some vegetable casserole thing with a ridiculous grin on her face. Was it
fair to be annoyed that just about everything made her happy? It shouldn’t
be that easy to please someone.
At least her happiness meant that she wouldn’t be whining. And if
she was going to stick around, he should be glad that she enjoyed cooking.
It took weeks to teach her to use the stove without burning the shit out of
everything but she seemed to know her way around it now. It was hard to
complain about enjoying a drink while someone else served a hot meal at
the end of a long day.
In fact, this was a first for him. From the time Joshua was big
enough to walk and carry dishes, he was made to help with meals. He’d
never really had the pleasure of relaxing while someone else took care of
him. It was…comfortable.
He’d been worried when he saw the vegetarian cookbook in her
hands, but Joshua had to give her credit. In addition to the salad and the
casserole, Liv cooked up a serving of elk without him even asking. On top
of that, she cooked it well. It was tender and moist with just the right
amount of seasoning. And she only did that silly nose wrinkle twice.
Not that he was paying attention to her nose. Or her lips and the way
she puckered them when she was concentrating. He definitely wasn’t
admiring how she carried herself now that she was putting on some weight.
When she set a steaming plate in front of him with a helping that only a
man his size could eat and still go for seconds, Joshua grunted a noise that
was close enough to a “thanks” that he didn’t feel rude. She just smiled. She
did that a lot.
 “Jesus, woman.”
Liv froze with her fork halfway to her mouth. “Did I do it wrong? I
thought you liked it rare.”
“Where the fuck does a vegetarian learn to cook meat like that?” He cut
off another bite. “Maybe I will make you cook dinner.”
Was she blushing? “My dad.” She looked back at her plate, her lips
pressed together to suppress a smile. “I cooked dinner for my parents every
Sunday. Dad had expensive taste in meat cuts. I learned really quickly not
to overcook them.” Chewing thoughtfully, she added, “It would probably
taste a little better with real butter.”
“I wouldn’t change a thing.” The rosy tint darkened on her cheeks,
snagging his attention away from his plate until she noticed him staring and
he quickly averted his gaze. That was new. Liv definitely wasn’t shy and
not much seemed to embarrass her. Who knew being nice turned a woman
pink? Joshua couldn’t seem to shake his fascination with her.
As soon as they finished cleaning up dinner, Liv collapsed onto the rug
in the living room, her feet pointed at the fireplace, mouth full of Tootsie
Rolls, and another of those ridiculous grins stretching her lips. Joshua
couldn’t suppress the lingering satisfaction and surprising smugness that he
felt for finding something she liked.
He hadn’t intended to bring her anything that she didn’t absolutely
need. Then a trader from further west was offering him packaged food.
Ordinarily it wouldn’t catch his attention. Packaged food was nutritionally
lacking and a waste of space. The farm provided all the food he could need
and then some. But it didn’t provide chocolate and for some bizarre reason,
he couldn’t seem to forget the longing in her voice when she talked about it.
Liv would like this. He’d thought before he could catch himself.
Liv? Since when was she Liv? She wasn’t. She was that woman—
that damn woman. That scrawny woman with big pleading eyes in a mint
color he’d never seen eyes take before. She was another responsibility that
he’d accepted. So what did he care if she liked anything? Why should he
trade for something with no value simply to please her? He shouldn’t.
Joshua must have lost his damn mind because he did. And he spent
the whole hike home excited about it.
Joshua also spent that hike trying to justify himself. It was an
apology for yelling at her about the cougar or accusing her of being a thief.
It was an apology for all the times he yelled at her unnecessarily. That
explanation didn’t really fit. Joshua didn’t apologize.
The reason folks left him alone, the reason he was a scary
motherfucker, was because he was unapologetic in all that he did. Well,
being half a foot taller than the average man and weighing in pound for
pound with a black bear added to the scary appearance too. Dangerous men
didn’t get excited about giving Tootsie Rolls to the interlopers that invaded
their kitchen. So when did he knock his head without noticing?
“Where are you going?” Liv asked, yanking him from his thoughts
as he hovered in the doorway.
“Checking the gate.” He quickly swung the door closed behind him.
There was no need to check the gate. It was locked. It was always
locked. There was this sensation in his gut that drove him to do it again.
And hopefully if he was out for a few minutes she would finish her candy
and go to bed. Not that he was avoiding her.
He was only…avoiding her. Sometimes she overwhelmed him. He
hadn’t fully adapted to having another person around all of the damn time.
And no matter what he did, that uneasiness that came from touching
her wouldn’t pass. Spending fifteen minutes walking the eastern portion of
the fence would cool him down. Otherwise, he was afraid Liv would start
one of her blabber sessions and instead of having a normal conversation he
would snap, hurting her feelings in the process.
Joshua hadn’t realized he was headed home until he quietly closed
the door and nearly tripped over the sleeping figure sprawled out on the rug.
Great, she was out but not out of his way. Though, if he was the type of
person to smile, he might do it now. It was funny to see her and Kuna
tangled up together in front of the fire. That mean old dog hated Liv for
weeks and suddenly they were the best of friends. She had a way of getting
under the skin like that.
Who the hell was he kidding? That damn woman was not just some
woman. They weren’t friends, per se, but Joshua really ought to be honest
with himself. She’d grown on him. There was no way to let her stay in his
home without making any kind of connection. They slept in the same room
—well, she slept and he kept vigil—and ate every meal together. It
wouldn’t be possible to remain completely walled off while spending that
much time with someone.
 With expert stealth, Joshua made his way into the living room and
knelt beside her. Kuna almost ruined his sneaking with the loud thump of
her tail. He cocked his head and listened for Liv’s even breathing before
using two fingers to brush a curtain of amber blonde out of her face. Just to
make sure she was actually asleep, of course.
And his motivation for running those same two fingers from her temple
to her chin? Curiosity, of course. He only wanted to know if the skin on her
face was as silky smooth as the skin on her hands. It was even softer.
Joshua believed in God. He’d been raised to and no amount of ill
treatment ever made him lose that one belief. The only difference was he
ceased thinking God was good. God could be good when he felt like it, but
he could also be fickle. Only a capricious God would drop someone as
fragile and gentle natured as Liv in his lap. It was a tease, maybe mockery.
See how sweet she is? How opposite she is to you? You’re the
perfect person to break her. That was all Sutton men could do to other
people—break them. That was the only way broken men knew how to
behave.
Someday soon she would see how destructive he was. She would be
strong soon, too. Strong enough to pack up and find somewhere else to be.
That was the way of a relationship like this. Joshua had seen it with his own
two eyes. No use getting attached to someone who wouldn’t be there much
longer.
Kuna wagged her tail again, raising her head hopefully. He gave the dog
a pat and whispered, “She’s trying to tame you too, huh?”
When Liv didn’t stir at the sound of her name being called, Joshua
decided he could leave her there for a while. Sleeping on the floor was
hardly comfortable and sooner or later she would get stiff and wake. He
slumped into his chair, letting the old leather and worn cushions soften the
ache of his overworked muscles. The joints in his knees were particularly
unhappy with him today and reclining with his legs outstretched was all he
could do to ease the discomfort.
There was a breathy sigh from the floor and then tiny, warm fingers
were resting on top of his foot. Joshua stilled, every muscle in his body taut
as he waited for the hand to recede and for Liv to sit up. After two whole
minutes of barely moving, he finally relaxed. It was such a trivial touch, so
lacking in intimacy. Strangely, he had no desire to shy away from it as he
usually did when an unwanted hand was on him.
 Instead, he felt warmth. That wasn’t necessarily an emotion but it was
the only way he could describe the sensation in his gut. Warm and
bordering on that same smugness he experienced when he succeeded in
making her happy.
The faintest tremor of Liv’s pulse vibrated from her wrist across the
top of his foot. She was one person, a one hundred pound addition to the
tiny cabin, yet somehow the place felt so full now. And, Joshua noted, the
heavy silence of night wasn’t quite as heavy or silent anymore. In between
the crackle of the fire, the buzz of light rain, and the rush of autumn winds
was the gentle hum of Liv’s sleeping breaths, lightening the air around her
as she always did.
Eventually he gave up waiting for her to wake, carefully slipping
from his chair. It took a moment to psych himself up enough to actually
touch her. Joshua was terrified she would open her eyes to find his hands on
her and wonder what the hell he was doing. Liv trusted him—probably too
much—but that didn’t necessarily mean she would be okay with him doing
what he was about to do.
Maybe she wouldn’t care. He hoped not because after a frustrated
groan, Joshua scooped her up in his arms and gently moved toward the bed.
She wasn’t as light as the first time he carried her like this, unconscious and
pale and teetering on the edge of death. She could be heavier though. It
bothered him to feel the bones in her hips so easily and to see her
collarbones emphasized on her narrow chest.
Was he doing enough to keep her fed? Was he letting her work too
hard on the farm? She hardly covered any of his tasks but he didn’t know
shit about recovering from starvation. Exertion might be the opposite of
what was good for you. Getting her to sit still was a hell of a task, though.
Joshua thought he was safe once he laid Liv out on the mattress and
covered her with a quilt. He started his retreat only to freeze at the sound of
the blanket rustling and a soft groan from her.
“Joshua?” She said it so quietly, yet so earnestly he couldn’t help
but turn back to her. Liv was sitting up in bed, clutching the quilt and
looking at him with wide, unfocused eyes.
“Yeah?”
“Will you be here in the morning?”
What the hell kind of question was that? “’Course I will.”
 “They left. Please don’t leave me.” Joshua stared at her, trying to
decide if she was actually awake. The tone of her voice made her seem so
small and the panic sounded so real that he felt the need to reassure her, but
wasn’t really sure how. “Joshua?” She repeated.
“Nothing to worry about, Squirrel. I’m not going anywhere.”
Liv nodded and slid back down onto the pillow. Joshua stood by the
bed, quietly waiting until her breathing calmed and she was undoubtedly
asleep. Even after he knew she was, he stood there, watching her brow
crinkle in response to whatever she was dreaming.
What he was doing, Joshua couldn’t say, but he knew that he was
going to keep doing it. Probably a lot longer than he should. He had this
feeling deep beneath his sternum that he didn’t know how to describe. It
had him wondering if he would make it out of this in one piece.
I’m not going anywhere, but she will. He reminded himself before
settling back in his chair to watch the night pass.

[Link]
 15
Easy Lies

“You don’t trust anyone. Not unless I say you can.” Joshua ordered
as we stepped past the gate. He woke me before dawn this morning to
inform me that we were taking a trip to Rockham Falls. The populated and
well organized town that he conveniently forgot to mention for two months.
Rockham Falls was another trading post, safer than the one Joshua
visited last month. People came to trade every day. Attendants and items
available varied but most of the time, the place was hopping. Or so I’d been
told an hour earlier. Before that, Joshua made it out like the place was
desolate, save for the raiders hiding in the shadows.
Actually, he hadn’t even been that clear. He simply said that
everything in the area was picked over. I guess that was technically true, if
you excluded the town that had thus far managed to keep itself safe by
forming a militia to patrol and guard the tiny sanctuary. Why he felt the
need to keep any of that a secret from me, I had no idea. Sometimes
Joshua’s motivation was clear cut and sometimes he was a mystery.
I peppered him with questions as soon as he told me what we were
up to but I got the usual grunted half-answers. Obviously, I’d misjudged the
mutual trust I thought we shared. I should’ve known better than to be hurt
by anything Joshua did but it stung to find out there were even more secrets
between us. I’d been kidding myself to think we were somehow in this
together, becoming partners of a sort.
Nope. It was Joshua and the nuisance that he occasionally offered a
speck of information so she would stop pestering him.
“How do I know you’re a good judge of character?” I panted.
I practically had to jog to keep up with his long stride and with a
pack full of supplies, that was a challenge. I might have overestimated by
ability to carry as much as I took on. I had my regular pack—not a massive
one like the backpacking one that Joshua carried—but it was probably a
good twenty pounds. It held a small collection of dried meats, late season
apples and pears, a variety of nuts, wild mushrooms, and a handful of other
farmed and foraged goods. More than enough to make my back ache and
we’d only been walking for two minutes.
Joshua fixed me with one of his “that’s a stupid question” frowns
but he answered anyway. “I’m still alive.”
“Fine. Trust no one. I can’t believe you’ve never watched the X-
files.”
He ignored my comment and took a sharp turn around the side of the
fence, stopping abruptly when he came upon a rusted piece of metal under a
filthy tarp and a bunch of debris. “Uncover that side.” He pointed to the
corner of the tarp.
I cautiously approached, looking for snakes or spiders or any other
creepy creature that might want to live under an old tarp. When my slow
pace earned me a scowl, I quickly yanked the crinkled brown thing to
reveal a Dodge truck that looked older than the pyramids. As Joshua
uncovered the other side, throwing the branches that would fit into the bed
of the truck, I realized what we were doing.
“You’re going to drive this thing? Does it work?”
“For now. Don’t think you’re up for walking seven miles today.” He
explained as he heaved the last fir branch into the bed. “Leave the tarp and
get in.”
I obeyed, jerking the old metal handle on the door and cringing at
the groaning sound it made. Surprisingly, the interior of the truck was clean.
The leather on the bench was cracked and stray bits of stuffing were making
their escape but it was otherwise in fine condition.
“You have a truck.”
“Aren’t you observant?”
“Joshua, don’t you sass me. When were you going to tell me about
this? And the town? We could have driven to a town full of people this
whole time?” I plopped my backpack at my feet and glowered at him,
trying to go for anger and not hurt. Why did this revelation make me feel so
betrayed?
He let the horrible grinding sound of the engine drown out anything
I had to say. I was half afraid the truck was going to explode but it puttered
to life after some maneuvering from Joshua. “We’re only driving halfway
so be ready to get out and cover the truck when I say.”
“Don’t think you’re getting off that easy.”
 I wasn’t convinced that driving was any faster than walking. There
was no road to follow for the first mile so we had to bump along open areas
in the woods, carefully navigating trees. Thankfully we ended up on an
overgrown gravel road, maybe an old logging road. I was going to hurl if
we kept rolling over roots. Eventually Joshua pulled the truck into a copse
of young evergreens. I had to squeeze between the door and a tree to get
out.
Covering the truck with branches wasn’t a bad idea. Once we were
done, the rust bucket looked like it’d been there for months.
“Don’t take anything for free. Everything has a price, even if you
don’t immediately know it.” Joshua continued laying out the rules as we
marched forward with packs secured on our backs. “Stay in my sight at all
times. Actually, stay within a foot of me. No wandering.”
“What if I want to look around?” I hurried to catch up to him.
“You go where I go. No exceptions.”
“What if I have to go to the bathroom?” The only response I got for
that was another “stupid question” frown.
“Never disclose anything about the farm. Not location, not what
we’re growing, and not what we’ve got in storage. Don’t mention weapons
either.”
“The farm is area 51. Got it.” I wanted to start whistling the X-files
theme but I was too out of breath. “Hey, can you slow down a little?”
“I thought you said you could handle this.”
“I can. You just have long legs.”
“Poor excuse.” Despite his grumbling, he did slow down for me.
“People are going to assume that you’re my woman.”
“That sounds awfully proprietary.” He kept his gaze forward,
avoiding the accusation.
“These days it is. Women are…well not so much in town, anyway.
Still, plenty of people we see today might have ties to unsavory folk. It’s
important that you don’t disillusion them.” He cleared his throat. “About
you being mine, I mean.”
“What were you going to say? Women are what?”
“Some folks treat them as, ugh, assets. Not everyone. Most don’t.
Further away from cities and camps there aren’t that many women. I told
you the raiders that ran out of supplies in the bigger cities have been
migrating this way. They tend to have little respect for anyone outside of
their groups. They prey on the most vulnerable.” His attention was still
fixed ahead. I knew he could feel me gaping at him but he made no move to
look at me.
“How can people behave like that? The power has only been out for
a year and—”
“It’s been more than a year.” Joshua interrupted.
“Is there a certain amount of time that has to pass before people
revert to barbaric behavior? We were a civilized society! Things wouldn’t
be nearly so bad if people just took care of each other.”
He snorted. “Guess we weren’t all that civilized.”
“It blows my mind.”
“That’s because you think far too highly of people. You expect
people to be innately good. They aren’t.”
“They are.” I disagreed. “Most people are good. Look at the world
we lived in. We were kind to each other. There was more than enough to go
around.”
“You had enough. People were nice to you.” He pointed out,
muttering under his breath “Probably because you’re a pretty girl.”
“Where did you learn to be so cynical?” I tugged one of his
backpack straps.
“Living makes you cynical.”
“You’re dramatic.”
Joshua finally looked at me just in time to see me roll my eyes. His
eyebrows were still all crinkled up but this time because he was raising
them and not because he was frowning. “Dramatic?”
“Yes. Lighten up.” I laughed, which earned me an amused noise,
less mocking this time. Maybe if I tried hard enough, I could actually get a
smile. “So, people will leave me alone just because I’m with a man? Sexist
indeed.”
“Because you’re with me.”
“What makes you so special?”
“You ask a lot of questions.”
“I have to understand the rules if I’m going to follow them.”
“Folks ‘round here know what I’m capable of. Folks that don’t find
out.”
I considered a few more questions but Joshua was already being
more forthcoming than usual. To be honest, a part of me didn’t want to
know. Joshua implied that he’d done some things that might make me afraid
of him. I didn’t want to be afraid of him, so I left it alone.
We walked in silence after that. Occasionally Joshua slowed and
grunted in a way that I interpreted as “keep up” but I wasn’t flagging. I was
distracted. Before he found me, I spent a long time alone in these woods. I
was terrified, constantly on guard and for good reason. I didn’t have the
luxury of admiring my surroundings. I was always on the move and when I
wasn’t, my focus was making sure no one could catch me by surprise.
I’d never noticed how tranquil it was out here. The sporadic twitter
of a bird or the rustle of dying leaves as the wind knocked them from
deciduous trees was meditative. Joshua felt it too, I could tell. His chin was
up, nostrils flaring, eyes scanning the surroundings less in that cautious way
and more to take in the painted beauty of early autumn. He seemed very at
home here. His confidence and ease made me relax.
Safe. That was how I felt. It was such an easy feeling that I almost
wasn’t aware of it anymore. At one time I feared I would never feel safe
again. I thought the rest of my life, however short it ended up being, would
be spent in fear, in flight. Joshua saved me from that.
He wasn’t always honest but he was a good man.
I was so deep in thought that I nearly smacked into his backpack
when he stopped. We’d come upon a stream, shallow but wide. Smooth
rocks jutted from the water, their backs layered in lime green moss.
“This place is beautiful.” I breathed.
The early morning clouds were dissipating, allowing thin beams of
golden light to escape. Droplets from the morning rain still sprinkled from
the trees like glistening gems. The sun splashed the surface of the water,
sending a shimmering reflection on the branches stretched out above.
Joshua grunted his agreement.
We stood on the bank for a minute, silently appreciating the view. A
soft breeze rattled browning leaves and added a rhythm to the sound of
rushing water. Suddenly, I wanted to hold Joshua’s hand. It wasn’t a
romantic desire, necessarily. I was simply so overcome by the magnificence
of life. Tears burned the back of my eyes.
I was alive. I wouldn’t be if it wasn’t for him.
The intensity of emotion had me craving closeness. I couldn’t
remember the last time someone held my hand—or any part of me for that
matter. I’d gone months without intimate touch.
 I resisted reaching for him, despite my yearning. I knew he wouldn’t
want me to. Instead, I shifted my weight as casually as I could until my
upper arm brushed his. If he noticed, he didn’t react.
When I said we stood there for a minute, I really meant a minute. He
must have been counting in his head because as soon as sixty short seconds
passed, we were on the move again. Joshua crossed first, hopping from one
stone to another with shocking nimbleness for such a big man. There was
much less grace when I followed but I made it without getting wet. I failed
to do the same at the next creek crossing.
At the third stream I stayed very dry because Joshua heaved me over
his shoulder—without warning me that he was going to do it—and carried
me across like a sack of potatoes. I intended to take my shoes off and walk
barefoot through the water but apparently that took too much time.
That was our final crossing, which didn’t stop me from
embarrassing myself in other ways. Before this I wouldn’t have considered
myself agile but I never thought myself clumsy either. Compared to Joshua,
I was a mess. He seemed to glide over the forest floor, feet barely touching
the earth.
Meanwhile, I was tripping over roots, running face first into stray
branches, and making a general fool of myself. Joshua had to stop several
times to help me untangle my boot from blackberry vines. Each time he
ripped at them impatiently, seemingly immune to the tiny thorns that
shredded my hands when I attempted to free myself.
“We’re getting close to the road. Under no circumstances do you
walk out there. We stay in the trees. If I say quiet, you shut up. If I say get
down, you hit the ground or you duck behind the closest tree.” He leaned
close, as if we were already being watched, his voice a soft rumble in my
ear. The deep timbre sent a shudder down my spine.
“Do many people travel on the road?”
“Not too many.”
“What about cars? Does anyone else drive?”
“Not that I’ve seen. Plenty of horses. Once in a while I see a dirt
bike or four wheelers. Those are much more common than cars.” He tugged
the strap of my backpack to draw my attention back to him. “If we see any
sign of raiders we go home. Immediately.”
Joshua took the lead after that, scouting ahead, slowing to let me catch
up, then more scouting. The road was barely in sight when he motioned for
me to get down. I dropped behind the nearest tree. He crouched next to me,
balancing himself with his arms on the trunk, enclosing me between him
and the rough bark.
The warmth of his body enveloped me. I was suddenly hyper aware
of every little detail that made up Joshua; the thick lines that shadowed his
brow, the depression beneath his beard that could be a dimple, the scar on
the left corner of his lip. The scent of cloves, sweetened with a touch of
citrus and the tang of pine shavings filled my nostrils and I inhaled, sucking
in more of it. I tried to ignore the way my mouth dried up, tried to turn my
attention to whatever it was that had him on high alert.
My unhelpful gaze kept wandering to the inky hair that lined his
jaw, my fingers itching to touch it. What would it feel like against my skin?
How different would the texture of his calloused hands be if they were
gentle, their touch intentional? I edged an inch closer, pretending to readjust
my footing, when really, I was greedy for more of his heat.
There was something about him in the wilderness, free from the
confines of the farm, that made me feel alive. Joshua was just another wild
thing, another piece of the intricate system that made up the forest. It
captivated me.
It distracted me.
That was the danger of Joshua, wasn’t it? He kept me safely
cocooned in his home, so distant from any outside threats that some days, I
forgot the world we were living in. Some days I wasn’t surviving, I was
playing house. He had me too relaxed, too soft for our way of life.
It was so very dangerous, yet so very thrilling.
Focus still on the road, Joshua’s head began to tilt in my direction.
He must have noticed that I was watching him. Our eyes locked, my gaze
soft, his tight and intense. I held my breath, freezing the way you did when
you unexpectedly encountered an animal on the trail. Would he bolt the
other way? Or was I the one who should be afraid?
My shifting had put me closer than I realized, close enough that his
breath moved the stray hairs that escaped my bun. I licked my lips, causing
my eyes to flick their attention to his. The tension between us was different
than the frustrated, taut binds that were usually born of an argument. It had
my palms sweating, my skin feeling too hot despite the damp autumn air.
The spell was broken when a distant noise came into my awareness.
Joshua tapped my ear with two fingers, pointing to the road before dropping
his hand to the gun on his hip. A deep clipping noise echoed off the road,
strangely familiar yet impossible to identify from within the trees.
Noises are tricky. For what felt like an eternity I kept expecting to see a
small herd of goat’s trot in front of us or maybe marching soldiers. Each
time I was sure the sound couldn’t get any louder without seeing the source
of it, it did.
Finally, three chestnut horses appeared around the corner, riders on
their backs. Two riders wore similar apparel to Joshua—jeans and canvas
jackets. The third was wearing a camo hunting jacket, the pattern glaring
against his jeans. I felt a twinge of anxiety at the resurgence of a memory of
two other men dressed the same. All three were armed, rifles slung over
their shoulders or guns at their hips.
“Son of a bitch.” Joshua muttered, silently jerking his gun from his
holster.
“Joshua!” I hissed. Was he going to shoot those men? What if they
weren’t raiders?
“Quiet.” He snarled, lifting his gun halfway, not quite aiming it but
definitely poised to fire.
I squeezed my eyes shut, not willing to watch anyone else die. I
couldn’t make sense of what was happening. Joshua said raiders would send
us home, not into an O.K. Corral style shootout. What was he thinking?
There were three of them and one of him!
“You’re not very helpful to me if you close your eyes every time
you get scared.” Joshua broke the edgy silence, startling me so hard I fell
backward into the tree.
“You’re not very helpful to me if you go around shooting people.” I
snapped my eyes open to glare at him.
The expression on his face unsettled me. The heat from just
moments ago had suddenly evaporated, making the space between us feel
chilled in its absence. “Agree to disagree.”
My voice was shaking more than I cared for when I asked, “Should
we go home?”
“Why would we go home?”
“Those weren’t raiders?”
“Might as well be.” He stood, offering me a hand. I took it, noting
that even though the touch was intentional this time, he was very much not
gentle when he yanked me from my sprawled position on the ground. “Did
you see their faces?”
“Not really. I was too busy trying to not see you murder them.”
“Self-defense isn’t murder.” He continued before I could point out
that he definitely wasn’t defending himself. “When you see them,
remember them. That was Wheeler and his men. Plenty more where those
assholes came from. They travel in packs. Even if you only see one, never
to be fooled into thinking he’s alone. Don’t trust that fucker, no matter how
friendly he seems.”
“Why?”
“Don’t trust him.” His tone left no room for argument.
“Wheeler is your arch enemy. Got it.” I rolled my eyes when his
back was to me.
We stepped out of the tree line just long enough for Joshua to show
me around. He instructed me on how to get back to the farm from Rockham
Falls if I ever got lost. He also briefed me on the next town over, where the
road led if I headed west instead. If I followed it long enough it would take
me to I-5. From there I could get to major cities and the coast. It was a two
or three day walk.
He was sure to add that it would be more like five or six days for me
because, y’know, weakling.
The rest of the journey to Rockham Falls felt short. I’m not sure
exactly how far we had to walk but I was too focused on my nerves to pay
attention. Other than my new roomie, I hadn’t seen other people in months.
I was thrilled at the thought of seeing new faces and hearing other people’s
stories of survival.
Or I had been until we actually saw other people. Now, I was
bordering on the edge of panic. The last time I saw a big group of people, it
was a massacre. A literal, horrifying massacre. Would we really be safe
where we were going? Joshua was putting a lot of faith in this town and its
militia. What would he do if they decided they wanted to take what he had?
Joshua pointed to the first sign that we were almost in the town. It
was a barricade of cars across the road. Stacked around the cars were old
tires, piles of lumber, and miscellaneous heavy objects like a commercial
dumpster. I asked why the road was barricaded, got a “stupid question”
frown, and a mumbled answer about raiders and so on. Further down the
road was a second barricade with even more cars just in case someone
showed up with a tank, which I supposed wasn’t completely out of the
question.
After the barricades, we came upon an impressive—and lopsided—
wall pieced together with logs and lumber. Two platforms hosting armed
men jutted out of the sides, reminding me of castle guard posts. There was
even a narrow gate that swung outward. It was wide open.
The idea of meeting people in some cute small town seemed cozy.
When Joshua describes the trading post, I imagined a bustling market like
that one near the water in Seattle with people selling produce, flowers, fresh
seafood, and cool art. It was a silly daydream. Of course, there wouldn’t be
colorful bouquets and chatty women sampling exotic fruit. It would be
hungry, untrusting people with weapons, people who looked at the world as
bleakly as Joshua.
“Is there a castle behind it?” It was a joke—a lame one—but Joshua
must have heard the note of anxiety in my voice. I shrank back as the
guards eyed us, their hands resting confidently on rifles.
“I’ve got you.” He squeezed my forearm so gently and quickly that I
almost thought I imagined it. “This wall doesn’t even surround half the
town. It’s mostly for show.” He explained, raising a hand to one of the
guards as they waved us on.
Beyond the wall, Rockham Falls looked like any other town. There was
a First National bank of something or other, a church, and a strip of shops
and businesses, many of which had their windows boarded up. Coming
from a lifetime of city dwelling, I always romanticized small towns. Now
this was as close as I would ever get to seeing one.
We had only walked about twenty five feet before the market was
visible. Just past the church was a huge parking lot and a wide two lane
street. Both were filled with tables, tents, wagons, wheelbarrows, and all
sorts of other containers. And people. There had to be at least thirty or forty
people buzzing about the area. If I didn’t know any better, I would think I
was just visiting a Saturday morning farmer’s market. It wasn’t Pike’s Place
but it wasn’t some stab-y black market for thieves and murderers either.
A few of the tables and wagons had fresh fruits and vegetables. The
rest was an eclectic collection of packaged food, cosmetics, clothing,
outdoor gear, and even less useful items like kid toys and books. Joshua
said most people stopped looting from stores, the competition with raiders
too much of a risk. The majority of new goods taken from businesses ended
up at the more unsavory trading posts and usually for a steep price. Here
most items were repurposed or taken from abandoned homes.
“Remember,” Joshua gripped my upper arm and turned me to face
him. “Stay close, don’t take anything from anyone, and don’t trust them
either.”
“You forgot ‘don’t tell them about the farm’ and ‘pretend to be your
wench.’” I added dryly.
He barely refrained from smiling. “We need corn, flour, grains,
legumes, and any other pantry item like pasta. Seeds too. Anything that we
can plant in the spring, we’ll take. Always make sure to check for bugs
before you trade. The last thing we want is a bunch of weevils in the cellar.
We also need knives.”
“You need more knives?”
“We should always get them when we see them. You need a better
one than that toothpick you were carrying around. Can’t kill a cougar with a
pocketknife.” He patted the hunting knife on his hip to demonstrate.
“What else?”
“First aid supplies. You need clothes, too.”
“What’s wrong with my clothes?” I demanded.
“You’re going to freeze to death when winter comes, assuming all
those bright colors don’t draw half a hundred raiders to you first. You’re
swimming in that jacket. You won’t be able to do anything useful if you
have to wear my clothes to stay warm.” Joshua tugged on the zipper of the
jacket to close it up to my collar, presumably to hide the brightly colored
clothes he accused me of wearing.
I looked down at my arms. My hands were completely lost in the
sleeves of the raincoat Joshua gave me this morning. The bottom of the
jacket came far enough down my thighs to pass as a dress. I suddenly felt a
bit foolish, like a child in ill fitting hand-me-downs. I started to unzip what
he’d zipped up to take it off but noticed my hot pink shirt underneath and
stopped myself. Maybe he was right.
I groaned and hunched my shoulders. “Fine, but I get a say in what I
wear.”
“No.”
“Joshua,” I sucked in a breath to begin my argument.
He cut me off. “We need water bottles too. Metal, not dented. Use
the water in the canteen on the outside of your pack to check for leaks.”
 “Joshua! I wasn’t expecting to see you this week.” A man with a
bright smile waved to us from a folding table at the edge of the market. A
loose bun of mousy brown hair flopped atop his head when he moved. The
table was covered in clothing ranging from t-shirts to winter gear as well as
what looked like kitchen items. Beside the table was a kid’s wagon full of
vegetables.
A woman who couldn’t be much older than me was seated nearby.
She had the same brown hair. One of her hands rested affectionately on her
pregnant belly. A little girl, maybe six or seven, squatted beside an old
stereo, fiddling with it.
“Asher, good to see you.” Joshua said in a tone that didn’t sound like he
thought it was good to see Asher at all. Then again, he never sounded like
he thought anything was good. I was surprised he was even capable of that
much pleasantry.
“How’re you, man? It’s been a long time. We were starting to worry
about you up in those woods.” Asher moved forward like he wanted to clap
a hand on Joshua’s shoulder. He must have known better because he halted
the movement halfway through and offered a hand to shake instead. Joshua
shook it firmly but hastily.
“Just been busy.” A pointed look in my direction. If it had been
anyone else, I would have felt the need to speak up and clarify that he didn’t
mean he was “getting busy,” only occupied like someone caring for a baby
bird. If this guy with the pleasant face knew Joshua well enough not to
touch him then I was confident he didn’t need me to explain.
“Joshua’s got himself a girl.” Asher noticed me hovering behind Joshua
and gave me that same bright smile. He was surprisingly clean shaven and
well groomed, a stark contrast to Joshua’s untamed locks and thick beard.
“I’m Liv.” He offered me his hand next and I shook it eagerly. His
smile got even wider and so did his eyes.
“Day-um!” This Asher guy seemed to know Joshua pretty well, if
his reaction to my presence was any indicator. A whole darn town full of
people, people who Joshua was familiar with, and I was completely in the
dark.
Because he thought I would put them at risk. The thought buzzed
around my head like a wasp, stinging me with disappointment. Does he still
think I’m in this to gain more than my own life?
 “Liv needs clothes and I could use more corn and flour. And seeds if
you’ve got ‘em.”
Asher hoisted a crate out from under the table, then another. “Maddie
can get you fixed right up in the clothing department. Assuming you’ve got
the goods.”
“Mushrooms, nuts, and all the smoked meat you could ever want.”
Joshua took off his pack and started pulling out supplies.
I gaped at him, shocked because the way he talked with Asher was
definitely friendly. If I hadn’t spent the last two months with him, I might
not have detected the tonal shift that brushed away a layer of gravel from
his voice.
So this was Joshua with manners. Still much more stiff and rigid
than the relaxed version of him I got. It made me realize that Joshua had
been nicer to me than I was giving him credit for. At least there was that.
I wandered down the table to start browsing clothes, extending a
hand to the pregnant woman when she noticed me. “I’m Liv, Joshua’s,
um…” I knew I shouldn’t say friend because he’d warned me not to but I
was not about to finish that sentence by introducing myself as his “woman.”
What a caveman way to put it. Did girlfriends not exist anymore?
Ha! Joshua calling me his girlfriend? In what reality?
“Pleased to meet you. I’m Maddie.” She pretended not to notice my
stammering.
“Where did you get all these clothes?”
“People’s houses, mostly. Not stolen, of course. We only take what
people leave behind when they go east. I made a handful of them too.”
“You made them?”
“Yes.” She chuckled.
“Like by hand?”
“With the sewing machine when we get enough light on the portable
solar panel. It’s not much.” Maddie shrugged, her belly lifting with her
shoulders.
“Where did you learn to make clothes? How do you know what
they’ll look like when you’re done?” Other than fashion designers, I hadn’t
realized people still made clothes by hand.
Maddie laughed at my enthusiasm. “My Mom taught me to sew. I
used to do it for fun, make pillow covers as gifts and stuff. I never dreamed
it would be such a useful skill.”
 “Show me which ones you made.”
Maddie spent a few minutes showing me aprons and summer dresses.
Since Joshua was occupied with trade talk and couldn’t offer his opinion, I
picked one of Maddie’s dresses. It was a navy blue sundress decorated with
bright yellow sunflowers. Oversized buttons climbed from the waist up to
the bust.
I picked out a few thermal shirts too. There weren’t many small enough
that were also the brown, black, or dark green that Joshua insisted I should
be wearing but I took the smallest I could find. Maddie offered me a
waterproof ski jacket, which I gladly added to my growing pile.
I finished the collection with two brand new looking pairs of jeans.
Since I couldn’t exactly strip my pants off and try them on right there, I had
no guarantee that they would fit. I would just have to hope they stayed up
and made my non-existent butt look good. I know, my end of the world
priorities were awful.
Since Joshua was still busy measuring out dried food, I took some
time to make small talk. It was refreshing to talk with someone who didn’t
grunt in place of words fifty percent of the time. I learned that Asher was
her brother. The little girl was her daughter, Mary. I asked about her due
date but I decided it would be rude to inquire about the father of her baby.
Maddie had her own questions about me. I told her the harrowing
story of my journey from Seattle—with the darker details excluded. The
story ended with Joshua finding me, which made her smile. Both she and
her brother were weirdly fond of him for how brusque he was. The
familiarity between the three of them caught me off guard.
And yeah, it added a bit of weight to the bitter disappointment I was
quietly nursing. I wasn’t a lifelong friend and hadn’t earned Joshua’s
undying trust but I was…well, I had no clue what I was to him. I lived in
his house, for goodness sake. That should make me his something.
You’re being stupid, Liv.
I snapped my head up, realizing that Maddie was still taking and I’d
been wandering through self-pitying thoughts rather than listening. She was
explaining how she and her brother grew up with Joshua. It wasn’t the way
that most kids grow up together. They weren’t quite neighbors and they
didn’t go to the same school, but they played with Joshua frequently while
he was waiting for his father to pick up supplies.
 By the sound of it, his dad would drop him at a park and leave him
there alone for hours, sometimes the bulk of the day. Maybe that was why
Joshua never spoke about his family. I didn’t get the sense that there were a
lot of warm and fuzzy memories from his childhood.
I must have been making a face because she chuckled and shook her
head. “I don’t know if he ever considered us to be his friend. Ash usually
strong armed him into playing with us. He’s pushy.”
“Hard to imagine anyone making Joshua do anything.”
Maddie leaned forward, covering one side of her mouth with her
hand. “I always felt like he was studying us more than playing, like we
were a new species and him a biologist.”
I resonated with the sentiment so thoroughly that I burst into laughter.
“Or maybe like I’m an alien from another planet.”
“You must be something special to put up with him.”
“I don’t put up with him.” Why did I sound so defensive? “Joshua
has a good sense of humor. He’s fun.” Okay, his sense of humor was a little
twisted and I’d never actually heard him laugh but I always knew when he
found something funny. And he was fun, in his very unique way.
She fixed me with a teasing look made me feel guilty of something
but I wasn’t sure what. I was about to start justifying myself when a sudden
noise startled me. Mary squealed happily as music began pouring from the
speakers of the old stereo. It was a Taylor Swift song.
I smiled and asked, “How in the world did you get that old thing to
work?”
“Batteries.” She gave a shy smile back.
“You found batteries that still had juice?”
“Uncle Ash did.” She rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet.
I mirrored the motion and added in a slow sway of my hips. “When
was the last time you heard music?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you like this song?”
“Yeah.” She admitted.
“Me too! Do you like to dance?” I added more wiggle to my step,
moving closer to her with an inviting hand outstretched.
“Yes.” She grinned at my antics.
I took Mary’s hands and shimmied back and forth. Her grin grew
wider. My movements grew wilder, less dance and more ridiculous. The
more I made a fool of myself, the less self-conscious she became.
Behind me I heard Asher ask Joshua “Where the hell did you find
her?”
“In my woods.” Those three words were coated with regret.
“I should go out to the woods more often.” Asher laughed, pointing
to the surrounding market. “Not many fish in this sea.”
“Don’t think you’d find what you’re lookin’, Ash.”
I peered over my shoulder to smirk at Joshua, expecting him to be
annoyed at me for drawing attention. Instead he seemed curious, and maybe
a little confused. When I caught him watching he quickly averted his
attention back to Asher. I thanked Mary for the dance, stuffed what clothes I
could in my pack, and joined Joshua at the other end of the table.
“Asher, where’d you get that stereo? We need one.” I jerked my chin
at the boom box.
Joshua didn’t give Asher a chance to respond. “We don’t need one.”
“Sure we do.” I told him. “Music would boost morale.”
“She’s right. Music is a mood maker.” Asher came to my defense
with a wink that was just shy of flirtatious.
“You get clothes?” Joshed asked quietly, completely ignoring the
stereo discussion.
“Yes.”
“No pink or yellow?”
“Nope. I’m going to be a total Goth now.”
“A useful one, I hope.”
“Super useful. See? This one even has thumbholes!” I gave him a
thumbs up through the thumbhole in the ski jacket. Apparently, Joshua
didn’t find thumbholes as cool as I did.
“You know, my offer from last time still stands.” Asher tied the top
of a bag of flour and handed it to Joshua.
“What offer?” I asked. Joshua glowered at me.
“Breeding Kuna with my dog Milo. He’s nothing special but he’s
big and he’s got good instincts.”
“Oh my gosh! You should! Kuna would have adorable puppies!” I
bounced on my heels and squealed. Kuna had been barred from coming
with us today because she was in heat. Joshua hadn’t wanted to attract the
attention of any stray dogs in the area.
Joshua’s answer shouldn’t have surprised me. “Puppies are useless.”
 “Not everything has to be useful for you to enjoy it, Joshua.” I rolled
my eyes.
“Right again.” Asher rang an invisible bell. With his hand cupped
around his mouth, he mock whispered “I think you’ll be good for him. He’s
a little uptight.”
“I don’t have time for fun and I don’t have time for puppies.” Joshua
heaved a loud sigh then added “But it is a good idea. Let’s plan for early
spring. I don’t want to worry about a litter during the winter.”
After we said our farewells to the siblings, I stood on my tiptoes and
whispered as close to Joshua’s ear as I could reach. “Can we trust them?”
Joshua nodded subtly. The world was ending but at least I was
making friends.
The next few people we visited weren’t feeling chatty. At all. I got
the feeling they weren’t fans of Joshua—I couldn’t imagine why that would
be, he was so polite and charming—but they were as courteous as could be
expected given the circumstances.
I attempted conversation with just about everyone we passed but
they seemed both startled and uncomfortable. To be cautious was smart. It
was probably what kept most of these people alive. Unfortunately, it killed
any sense of comradery and community in the process. Where was the
solidarity? I’m alive, you’re alive, we may as well be best friends.
After watching a handful of trades, I began to notice an unusual pattern.
I was halfway sure that I had to be crazy because there was just no way that
Joshua was doing what I thought he was doing. There were dozens of
people with tables and wagons, many of them offering the same items. Yet,
every time we went looking for seeds, grains, and the few packaged food
items we could use, Joshua first visited the tables with kids or elderly
people.
And call me double crazy but he was trading for things he didn’t
need. How many turnip and beet seeds could one man use? I knew he used
a lot of flour but we could barely carry the amount he traded for. On top of
that, I was pretty sure he gave a lady with two kids double the amount of
jerky he’d previously offered another man.
Was Joshua…helping people? In a totally discreet way that neither
hurt their pride or his reputation? Every second I spent with this man had
me more puzzled.
 Further into the market we met with Frank whose wife sewed
underwear. He owned the local hardware store and still had tools tucked
away for trading. Like most people, he was nervous around Joshua, eyeing
him like a wild animal that might attack unprovoked. Tension slowly
sapped from his shoulders when I asked him about his wife.
He and Moira had been married for thirty seven years. They had
four sons together. Frank worked the store while Moira kept the house.
They were old fashioned like that. She still preferred to stay in, sewing and
tending to their animals while he attended market. I nodded, drinking up
every detail of his life. Someday Frank might be gone. Someone ought to
remember him.
The conversation came to a close when Joshua’s shadow loomed
over us. He tugged impatiently at the strap of my backpack but I held up a
hand. “What about your sons? Where are they?”
“You met our youngest when you came through the gate.” Frank
smiled sadly, his thick white mustache twitching. “The twins were in
Oklahoma, before the blackout. Our oldest was getting his masters in
Pennsylvania.” He pressed his hand over his heart. “We pray for them every
day.”
“Thank you.” I squeezed his other hand. “I’ll pray too.”
Joshua wrapped his fingers around my forearm and guided me in the
direction he wanted me to go. “Stop talking to people.”
“No.” I lifted my chin. “I might not get another chance.”
“You’ll get plenty of chances to chatter.”
I shoved his hand away. “What’s your problem?”
“Keep it down.” He hissed.
“Seriously, Joshua. What gives? You’re the only person I’ve talked
to in over six months. I just found out I’m not alone.”
He stopped, turning to look down at me. For a second,
I almost regretted my words. Clearly, they bothered him. “You weren’t
alone before today.”
But somehow you make me feel lonelier than if I was. The distance
between us was vast and in that rare moment where his dark eyes were
actually meeting mine, it ached. I couldn’t find anything to say that would
ease the strain undulating in the air around us so I opted to stay silent. That
silence meant something to him because his mood darkened further—if that
was even possible—and he stomped to the next table in a huff.
 We met with a couple who had an abundance of squash and, oddly
enough, assorted cosmetics. I couldn’t believe some people were still
willing to trade for makeup. Who was wearing eyeliner when the world was
ending? The couple wasn’t unkind but I got the feeling they weren’t the
sweet grandparents they looked to be. The woman was on the plump side
and wore a pastel purple apron but her hands told the real story of who she
was. They were as calloused as Joshua’s, fingers thick from years of labor.
I momentarily forgot Joshua’s ire, blinking pleading eyes at him as I
requested a pumpkin. They were so cute and orange, the perfect decoration
for the porch this time of year. I offered to make him a pie and his lips
briefly untwisted from their sour knot.
“No pumpkins.” He said finally, moving on.
We traded the rest of the fruit, nuts, and mushrooms from my pack for a
ten pound bag of rice, smaller bags of assorted beans, another sack of flour,
and a variety of seeds. Joshua was waved down by a man in a camo jacket
on our way to the back end of the market. His skin was coppery, his black
beard much longer and thinner than Joshua’s. Grey flecked the scraggly
hairs, making him look older than he probably was.
“Welcome back, Joshua. Folks have been asking about you. Seems
your deer is in high demand these days.” The man offered a polite greeting.
He had one of those serious, professional voices like my father. He carried
himself like a businessman too.
“There won’t be much more this year.” Joshua rummaged through his
pack for the biggest package of jerky and handed it over.
“In that case, you should bring as much as you’ve got to trade. I’d
like to have more than we need in the stores for winter. I’m sure we can
work out a deal.”
“I’ll bring what I can. Now that I’ve got help, I should be able to
pack in a little more.” Joshua motioned to me. This was the first time he
deliberately brought anyone’s attention to me.
“Ah yes, your guest. She’ll be joining you from now on?”
“Yes, I will.” I cut in. I could feel Joshua’s frustration with me but I
was getting pretty sick of being ignored and I was very uncomfortable
being talked about as if I was some pack mule he dragged along with him.
“I’m Liv.”
“A pleasure.” He nodded politely. “I’m Mayor Flores. Welcome to
Rockham Falls.” Mayor, huh? I wondered if he was elected before or after
the world ended. That must be why Joshua was giving him jerky for
nothing in exchange. I assumed it was payment for entry into town, or
something along those lines.
Flores turned back to Joshua. “We’ve heard some troubling reports
of raiding groups along the interstate. Five armed men were seen at the rest
stop near River Fork Trail. Seventeen miles is a long distance on foot, but
it’s still closer than I like.” He tugged the end of his beard. “You haven’t
seen any suspicious activity down your way, have you?”
Joshua’s mouth tightened. “If I saw any sign of raiders in my neck
of the woods, there wouldn’t be anything to tell.”
I frowned at him, confused and more than a little surprised that he
wouldn’t share that kind of information. How could he leave the whole
town in the dark like that?
The mayor didn’t seem perplexed at all. He nodded solemnly at
Joshua, grimacing slightly. “That’s what I thought. You two stay safe out
there.”
When the mayor walked away, I got an earful about introducing
myself—I was supposed to be as mysterious as him, apparently—but
eventually he answered my questions. Mayor Flores was in charge of
Rockham Falls before the blackout. He took it upon himself to keep running
the town. If it wasn’t for him, Rockham Falls would have been raided and
the people in it left to die or worse. He organized former police officers and
deputies as well as any willing resident to start a militia.
Joshua wasn’t the only outsider Mayor Flores made deals with. The
militia kept the town guarded but there weren’t nearly enough men to
uphold laws. That was where Tommy Wheeler and his men came in. On the
road today we saw only two other riders with him. According to Joshua, he
had a gang that was growing bigger all the time.
Wheeler recruited the men that would otherwise have become
raiders, or so Joshua thought. I wasn’t entirely sure why that made him a
bad guy—or why Joshua spoke his name with such disgust. It kept them
from ripping apart a town of innocent people, didn’t it?
By the time we got to the far corner of the market, our packs had
been emptied and refilled with just about everything on our list. The further
back you went into the market the more likely you were to encounter the
shadier people, the ones with sticky fingers or those brave enough to seek
out goods from other towns and cities. Ironically, they were the ones set up
closest to the church.
I waited to the side, rolling back and forth between toe and heel as
Joshua checked out two hunting knives, when someone offered a greeting to
my right. My gaze had been flitting curiously between the other tables and
tents around us. I hadn’t noticed anyone approach. I turned and immediately
recognized the newcomer. Well, technically I recognized the horses tied to a
bike rack behind him first but the grey hair, slight paunch, and canvas jacket
clicked soon after.
“Hey, doll. Are you new in town?” Wheeler’s smile was friendly, his
tone conversational.
Joshua made him out like some kind of boogie man. His presence
immediately put me on edge. “Nope—I mean yep. Yes. This is my first time
here.”
“Welcome to Rockham Falls. I’m always happy to see a new face.
I’m Thomas Wheeler. You can call me Tommy.” He extended a hand for me
to shake. I took it, only deciding it was a bad idea after I’d already done it.
When he finished shaking my hand he lingered there, clutching my palm
with both hands and rubbing his thumb over my knuckles and wrist. I had
the sudden desire to jerk my hand away but I was too scared to be that bold.
“You have soft hands. That’s rare on a woman these days.”
“I moisturize.” I laughed awkwardly, carefully slipping my hand
away. I glanced over my shoulder as casually as I could only to realize that
Joshua was gone. Suddenly I felt every ounce of confidence leak out of me,
pooling uselessly at my feet. I’d become so reliant on Joshua to make me
feel safe. Without him my tongue went numb and my legs turned to lead.
For the first time in over two months, I wished I was alone again.

[Link]
 16
Suit of Armor

“Tell me a little about yourself. How did you end up in our fine
town?” Tommy’s voice was buttery and confident. He reminded me of the
men my father entertained, the businessmen with fake smiles, leering eyes,
and if I was unlucky, roving hands. He was handsome for an older man,
probably the kind of guy people called charming, but there was something
about the look in his eyes that gave me a tight feeling in my gut. It was the
kind of look that kicked my fight or flight instincts into gear.
“Um, I walked.”
He took a step closer and fingered a stray lock of hair that was too
short to stay in my bun. I flinched but either he didn’t notice or didn’t care.
“Are you staying in Rockham Falls or just passing through? If you don’t
mind my asking.”
“She does mind you asking.” Compared to Tommy, the deep voice
rumbling behind me was like gritty sandpaper. Wonderful, familiar
sandpaper.
My smile was more of a grimace and my tone almost hysterical.
“There you are!” Joshua stepped up beside me, dropping his hand on my
shoulder. He gripped it more like he might hold a tool than a woman but it
was the thought that counted.
I turned into his body, gripping the front of his shirt and pressing my
cheek to his chest. It probably looked more desperate than affectionate but I
didn’t really care. A crushing weight was laying on my lungs and I could
scarcely take a breath. The only thing keeping me from tumbling to my
knees in a gasping fit was the solid feel of Joshua surrounding me, the scent
of cloves warming my throat.
His entire body went rigid when I stifled a frantic breath with the
back of my hand. “I’ve got everything I need. Time to go.”
Tommy pouted playfully. “Damn, I was looking forward to getting
to know your girl, Joshua. I haven’t even gotten her name.”
“You’re not going to. Don’t let me catch you touching her again.”
The undiluted hatred in Joshua’s tone wasn’t an act. This was personal, way
more personal than a disagreement over Tommy’s moral code. I freed
Joshua’s hand from my shoulder and laced my fingers with his. The steel of
his grip told me how livid he was.
His hold on my hand was uncomfortably tight but I didn’t squirm or
wince. I squeezed back, letting him know how grateful I was for him. His
big fist engulfing mine made me feel like I was wearing a suit of armor.
“You are your father’s son, aren’t you?” Tommy’s charming veneer
snapped away with a sneer. “You going to lock this one away like daddy,
too? How long before she runs, you think?”
Okay, that was only mildly alarming. Joshua had kept me isolated
but he wouldn’t literally lock me away…right?
Joshua ignored the remarks, turning his back on Wheeler. That
didn’t deter him from continuing. “Joshua! Before you go, I want to ask you
something. Two of my men were hunting near your woods a month or two
back.” Tommy knew where the farm was? Surely not. “I haven’t seen or
heard from them since. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would
you? Or maybe your girl does?”
“You know what happens to your men if I catch them in my woods,
Wheeler. They should be more careful about where they’re hunting.”
Joshua’s response was unsettlingly cool. It sounded more like an
explanation than a threat. I started trembling and his fingers flexed,
squeezing my hand hard enough to grind my knuckles together. It was a
struggle not to wince then.
He kept that firm hold on me, guiding me past tables, crates, and
wagons until we were back at the edge of town. As soon as we passed the
gate, he released my hand and spun on me. “I thought I told you not to trust
him.”
“You didn’t say not to talk to him.” I crossed my arms and kept
walking, half because I was upset at him for yelling at me and half because
I was embarrassed by how easily frightened I was.
Joshua stalked after me. “That should have been implied.”
“Whoa Joshua, you played your character so well you forgot that
I’m not actually your woman and you can’t tell me who I’m allowed to talk
to.” We were still within earshot of the militia at the gate so I had to clench
my teeth to keep from shouting. “And for the record, if I was your woman, I
still wouldn’t let you treat me the way you have been.” The anger and hurt
from his deception, from the way he spoke to me today, was bubbling to the
surface. I felt like exploding.
He caught my pack—because grabbing my arm would be way too
much contact for one day—and stopped me. Then he stared at me, just
stared at me with that oddly blank look on his face. I couldn’t tell if he was
frustrated or confused or maybe so done with me that he couldn’t even
muster up an expression.
When he finally spoke, his voice betrayed a seething anger that
matched mine. “When I say don’t trust someone, that means don’t talk to
them.”
“Maybe you should be a little more blatant with your orders next
time. Also, I didn’t talk to him. He talked to me.”
“You should have ignored him.”
“Sorry, I guess I’m just too polite.”
“Your life is more important than your manners!” His jaw was so
tight I could see the muscles straining.
“It’s not like the guy was about to stab me.”
“No, he was only sizing you up to see if he needed to manipulate
you or if he could just grab you off the road on your way out of town.”
Joshua ducked into the woods. I followed, powerwalking to keep pace with
his pounding steps. Now he was the one running away from me.
I was completely breathless but determined to get some answers.
“What are you talking about?”
“I told you Wheeler can’t be trusted. He’s not afraid to get his hands
dirty and he has a lot of manpower.”
“Why wouldn’t you just tell me that? Saying ‘don’t trust this guy’ is
a lot different than saying ‘this guy kidnaps women and does God knows
what to them!’” I reached out for any part of him that I could grab just to
slow him down. My hand landed on his forearm. He stopped abruptly,
glaring at my hand like it was a bug, before jerking away.
“If I say don’t trust someone it means they’re dangerous. That
should be good enough.”
“It’s not, Joshua. You told me not trust to anyone we met today
except for two people. Should I assume everyone is a kidnapper and a
rapist?” I demanded.
“Yes.” He started back through the woods.
“Even you?”
 Joshua whipped around, eyes wide. “Of course not.”
“See why I’m confused?”
“No.” This was Joshua logic. It wasn’t confusing because he wasn’t
confused. It was his rule, so it was good one.
“Next time,” I panted as I rushed to catch up. “Will you please give
me a little more to go on? Don’t trust this guy because he’s a serial killer.
Or a raider. Or a puppy kicker. That’s not asking a lot. You kept me totally
in the dark about this whole thing until today and now you expect me to just
follow your vague rules without batting an eye.” I slowed, unable to keep
talking and jogging at the same time. I could hear my heart pounding in my
ears. “Why am I even here?”
“What?” He stomped to a halt.
“Why am I here with you? Why are you taking me back to your
home?” I rushed on before he could interrupt, lungs still burning. “I’m a
burden and clearly a nuisance. And to be honest, I’m not entirely sure I’m
not a prisoner. I live on your property but I’m not allowed to leave. You
don’t tell me anything unless it becomes relevant to what we’re doing. You
bring me to a town that I didn’t know existed but suffocate me with all of
these rules. Why not just leave me back there?”
My heart was pounding for an entirely different reason now. I
couldn’t figure out how I let those words slip out of my mouth, but I
immediately regretted them. I pinched my bottom lip between my teeth,
waiting for the moment he realized I was right, waiting to be dismissed and
sent back to Rockham Falls to fend for myself.
Waiting to be rejected. Even in the end of the world, I was
unwanted.
Joshua’s tone was so cold I almost thought I could see his breath.
“You want to stay in town? You’d rather be on your own?”
“That’s not what I’m saying.” What was I saying? Joshua had a way
of mixing up my words, making me feel unclear about my own thoughts.
“Then what’s the problem?”
“I just told you the problem! You treat me like I’m your enemy. I sit
at your dinner table every night and you still act like you can’t trust me.
You’re keeping things from me, big things. That’s not going to work for us.
Trust,” I gestured to the space between us. “Goes both ways.”
“You’re not my enemy.”
 “And you’re not actually responding to what I’m saying.” I scuffed
the heel of my boot into the soft earth, my voice dropping. “It won’t kill
you to talk to me, Joshua. If you want me to be a part of this, then I need to
know what I’m getting into.”
Do you want me to be a part of this? Am I anything more than your
penance? I immediately scolded myself. Don’t be pathetic, Liv. Don’t beg
for reassurance from someone who doesn’t care about you.
“Fine.”
“Fine?”
“Yes, fine. Let’s go home.”
I didn’t follow. That response was so unsatisfactory that it made me
want to grind my teeth. He was so impossible! I needed more than that.
I must have said it aloud because Joshua turned again, looking like
he would rather be swallowing nails than having this conversation. “What
do you need?”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked softly.
“Tell you what?”
“Oh my God, Joshua! That there was a whole town of people out
there! After everything I’ve shared with you, don’t you think I deserved at
least that much truth? That I might want to know there were others like
me?” I hadn’t intended to let my hurt show but I couldn’t help it. I was
trying so hard to prove myself to him but every time I thought I’d made
progress, I hit a wall.
I got nothing from him for several excruciating minutes. We stood in
the shade of the trees, a breeze cooling the sweat on the back of my neck,
birds twittering gleefully, unperturbed by the argument happening just
below them.
Finally, he said, “I didn’t want you packing up and heading that way
just because you found the thought of being around people more appealing
than…the farm.” I heard the words he didn’t say. More appealing than me.
“But that wasn’t your choice to make. And why? Because you
thought I was raider bait and I would give the whole town up? They have
like fifty people to defend the place!”
More silence.
“Joshua, please.” I swallowed, wishing I didn’t have to beg him for
honesty. “You owe me an explanation.” I stepped closer to him, meeting his
eyes. “Please.”
 He squeezed his eyes shut, looking pained. “I tell you not to leave
because you barely know north from south! If you don’t end up eaten by a
cougar or walking into a ravine, you’re going to run into someone much
worse than me.” His chest heaved. “I didn’t tell you about the town because
it’s not safe. They’re not like you, Liv. Everyone has an agenda and they’re
always looking out for themselves. Half those people you talked to today
would sell you out to Wheeler if it guaranteed their next meal.”
“How can you know that?”
“How can you be so naïve?” He threw his hands up. “I’ve seen it.
I’ve seen women like you disappear. That’s the kind of world we live in. I
knew that if I told you there was a town full of people just up the road, you
would have packed your bag and marched straight for it. You would have
gotten yourself into more trouble than you could handle.” He cleared his
throat, adding as an afterthought. “I don’t have time to feel guilty if
something happens to you.”
“Okay, hold on—” I poked a finger in his chest. Was I angry?
Relieved? Confused? Yeah, I was confused. “You just said all this nice stuff
and then you ruined it. Don’t do that.”
“I’ll say whatever I want, however I want. Let’s go.” He swatted my
finger away and steered me in the direction he wanted to walk with his
hands on my pack.
“You are the most bullheaded person that ever existed.” I was
hurrying again, desperate to make him look at me.
He snorted. “I’m so insulted.”
“I’m not trying to insult you. I’m trying to talk to you.”
“We talked. Now it’s time to stop talking before half the raiders in
the state come find us. You’re loud.”
“All this time, you were protecting me? That’s why you didn’t tell
me?” Not the people in town, not his own secrets, but me?
His Adam’s apple bobbed but he spoke casually. “I was protecting
my conscience.”
“Uh huh.”
Silence fell between us for half a mile, mostly because talking and
walking made me feel like I was running out of oxygen.
“Joshua,” I finally drew his attention when we passed our first creek
crossing. He shifted to my pace but kept his eyes locked on the trail ahead.
“Thank you for looking out for me.” I didn’t get more than a grunt of
acknowledgment.
Joshua didn’t say anything else that wasn’t necessary
communication for the entire trip back to the truck. I wasn’t sure if he was
still angry or just didn’t feel chatty. Not that he was ever chatty. Not long
into the hike, I started to fall behind. My pack felt like it weighed a hundred
pounds, my body ached, and my head was light. Joshua slowed to wait for
me three times before stopping, heaving his pack off his back, and tugging
mine from my shoulders.
“What are you doing?” His answer was to unzip my bag, remove the
heaviest items, and add them to his already overburdened load. “You don’t
have to do that.”
He never responded to my protest. He also stopped walking ahead
of me and tapping his foot impatiently as I trotted to catch up. The final
thirty minutes of the journey we walked side by side, close enough that
occasionally my hand would bump his. He didn’t move away, didn’t
grumble, didn’t even frown. Maybe he wasn’t angry after all.
I dozed off the moment my butt hit the seat in the truck. Joshua
insisted I get in while he removed the covering. I had no recollection of him
starting the engine. When we arrived home, he sent me straight inside.
I watched him toss branches in the bed of the truck and felt a tug on
my heart. I wasn’t entirely sure what it meant but I knew it wasn’t good.
Joshua was hot and cold, as dark as a moonless night and as intense as the
sunrise. He wasn’t the kind of man I should be feeling warm and fuzzy
toward.
How could I not when he saved my life?

[Link]
 17
Moonshine

Kuna went nuts when we walked through the door. She almost
bowled me over with her excited wiggling.
Joshua took her to check on the animals while I unloaded our packs.
When everything was on the table, I sorted through the new clothes, giving
the shirts a good sniff before folding them and slipping them under the bed.
Laundry took a lot of time and effort so if I didn’t need to wash something,
I wasn’t going to. When I got to the sundress, navy blue with big beautiful
sunflowers, I decided to try it on.
The weather was too cold for a dress but I wasn’t going to let that
stop me. I slipped the soft cotton over my head, spinning so it fanned out
around me. For the first time since the blackout, I felt pretty. Other than that
first night with Joshua, the night I saw my reflection and wept at the frail
woman in front of me, I hadn’t given much thought to my appearance. As
long as I was strong and capable, why should I care if I was thin?
It made a difference though, feeling good about myself. After losing
such a drastic amount of weight, I feared my body resembled a little boy’s.
My hips were still bony and my breasts smaller and pointier than they used
to be. In a dress? I was downright feminine. The built in cups actually gave
me some cleavage.
Even when the world was ending, I was worried about the size of
my breasts. Oh well, it was better than worrying about the scarier things.
Since I was already dressed up, I decided to go all out. Of course,
“going all out” meant a lot less than it used to. I had no make up to put on,
no curling iron, and definitely no hot shower. The closest I got was a damp
rag in my armpits and some chamomile oil to rub on my neck and wrists.
By the time I was done getting cleaned up I was shivering. I rushed
to the fireplace and did my best to follow the steps Joshua taught me to get
the fire going. I stacked the logs right but with shaking hands it was a
struggle to strike a spark from the flint. On my seventh attempt a spray of
sparks came from where the metal rod struck the stone. I was holding it
much closer to myself than I should have been and some of the sparks
landed in my lap. I clapped them out quickly—though I was hardly about to
catch on fire—and tried again.
And again and again and again. It had to have taken twenty tries for
the kindling to catch.
Joshua returned with boots stomping heavily on the porch. When he
was finished kicking the mud off—which he only started doing for me—he
stepped inside and slid out of his jacket. Kuna stood in the doorway, waiting
per his command. He shook droplets from his coat—he hadn’t mastered
doing that part outside yet—then hung it on the rack by the door. With a
snap of his fingers, Kuna did the same. A mist of water flew from her thick
black fur.
“You need a blow dryer, Kuna.” I gave her head a gentle pat,
spreading wet dog hair across my palms in the process.
Joshua locked up, kicked his boots off, then did a double take when
he noticed me hovering by the table. “What’s that?”
“What? Oh this?” I did another spin. “It’s a dress.”
“I thought you said you got useful clothes.”
I grinned at him. “Don’t worry, I did, but I thought this was nice too.
Maddie made it. Can you believe that? Maybe she’ll teach me to sew. Then
I could fix your pants.” I pointed at a tear on the knee of his jeans. “I can
garden in it when the weather is warm.”
“I know how to patch clothes.” Joshua said. “And you can’t garden
in that. You’ll get filthy.”
“I’ll wash it.” I wasn’t about to let his practicality spoil my good
mood. “I didn’t put anything away yet. I wasn’t sure what belongs in the
cellar.”
He leaned over the table, quietly studying our haul. “It’s nice.”
“Hmm?”
He didn’t glance up when he murmured “The dress.”
“Thanks.” I propped my hand on the table across from him. “Oh, I
almost forgot!”
I gently coaxed the band from the bun on top of my head. Damp hair
poured over my shoulders in a cascade of amber. Usually pin straight, the
bun combined with evening rain had given it a nice wave. It had gotten
longer this year than I’d ever grown it in the past, reaching almost halfway
down my rib cage.
Joshua’s dark eyes followed my hair as it fell down my torso. He kept
staring at it, slowly travelling up until his gaze met my face.
“What?” I cocked a brow.
He shook his head sharply and broke his gaze away. “Let’s get these
sorted so we can eat. Everything goes downstairs but the knives and the
pasta. There’s a shelf marked for new seeds. Put them there and I’ll
organize them later.”
It took me five trips to carry dried goods down the ladder. I did it
though. I managed to carry our entire market haul to the cellar and even
heaved the bag of rice onto an upper shelf.
One of our better finds today—in my opinion, anyway—were
several undamaged packages of spaghetti. With a touch of coaxing I
convinced Joshua that Italian food was the best post-hike food. I brought a
jar of homemade tomato sauce up from the cellar and he boiled the water. I
chopped up eggplant while he fried fresh bird from his hunt the previous
day.
Somewhere between Rockham Falls and the farm, the resentment in
the air around us dissipated. The quiet that fell was sturdy, smoothing out
the edges of agitation brought on by the afternoon. Occasionally the deep
cadence of Joshua’s voice filled the kitchen as he offered instruction.
Otherwise, there was a tentative peace once more.
Did that mean I was forgetting about our argument earlier?
Absolutely not. Whatever this was, whatever Joshua did and did not want
from me, we should be on the same page. And no matter how desolate and
dark a world it was out there, I had a promise to keep to myself. I wouldn’t
—couldn’t—stay where I wasn’t wanted. If my welcome was worn out, I
needed to know.
In the meantime, this was comfortable. Pleasant. There was
something so ordinary and domesticated about us cooking dinner together,
shifting around the kitchen in the way that two people who were
accustomed to each other’s presence did. I used to shy away from him. He
used to contort his body to avoid even the slightest accidental contact.
Now, he leaned around me to pull dishes from a cabinet, his chest
brushing my back. Our hands met as he wordlessly took the sauce jar from
me and pried open the lid. This version of him was so starkly different than
the man who fought with me in the woods earlier. How was it possible to
get both in one day?
 I was allowed in his space, more than a guest in his home. With
someone like Joshua, that felt like intimacy. More so than touch. With
touch, Joshua could be methodical. But this? Here in his kitchen, watching
him work, moving in time with him, he couldn’t hide himself. He
didn’t try to hide himself anymore, not fully.
Whether he would admit it or not, Joshua trusted me. If only I could
get him to see that.
I finally gave up puzzling it out and distracted my brain by twirling
spaghetti around my fork. “Five star Italian meals come to the end of the
world. All we need is garlic bread.”
“You like it?” Joshua asked with a noodle still hanging out of his
mouth. “The sauce?”
“Don’t talk with your mouth full.” I gave him a disapproving nose
wrinkle, unable to keep the reproach on my face for long. “I love it.”
His broad shoulders rose and fell. “You’re easily impressed.”
“You’re not very good at taking a compliment, are you?”
After dinner I tidied up the dishes while Joshua organized the cellar.
When he came back into the kitchen there was a clink of glass on the table.
The heat from his body covered me, his shadow looming over the sink as he
pressed close to pull cups from the top shelf. I could smell the faint hint of
cloves and citrus on his skin. His homemade soap could be an autumn
themed candle.
My back was still to the table when I heard the scrape of a jar lid
and the trickle of liquid. Joshua was seated, a cup in his hand. An identical
cup waited expectantly in front of the seat beside him. Both were filled with
an inch of a clear drink that I suspected wasn’t water. There were three jars
on the table, one translucent, one amber, and one a pinkish-red.
“What are we drinking?” I slipped into the chair, my socked foot
settling halfway atop his under the table.
Joshua didn’t flinch. “Moonshine.”
“Seriously?” I sniffed to confirm. The sharp alcohol aroma burned
my nostrils. “You make your own moonshine?”
“Occasionally.”
“I’m not entirely sure you’re a real person.”
He took a relaxed sip. “I feel real enough.”
I tried to mirror his casual manner with my first taste. The moment
the alcohol passed my lips I coughed. I forced myself to swallow, only
making me cough harder. My throat and tongue were on fire. As the
moonshine made its way into my stomach that started to burn too. Joshua
watched me suffer, my face red, wheezing desperately, and he laughed. Not
a snort or even a chuckle but a deep rumble of a laugh, like southern
thunder.
I felt homesick and right at home all at once.
My coughing subsided, leaving my mouth free to grin my most
foolish grin. For once, he didn’t look away. Amusement lingered in his
eyes, making them glisten like pools of melting chocolate.
“Slow down there, Miss Moonshine.” he warned. “It’s strong.”
“No kidding.” I croaked, throat still raw. I risked another sip, a
smaller one this time. I managed to stifle my cough, wiggling in an
awkward shiver instead. The burn was interesting the second time around. It
felt tingly and warm, my insides filling with sparks. Joshua swirled his
glass and downed the rest. “Do you actually like the taste of that? I don’t
think I’ve ever met anyone who drinks something this strong without
mixing it.”
“It’s a good burn.”
“I think I get what you mean. But, no offense, it tastes awful.” I
covered my mouth. A wave of goosebumps came and went down my arms.
“Try the peach.” He took my glass and poured the remaining
contents into his, opening the amber colored jar and splashing two inches to
replace what he’d taken.
“Do you grow the peaches too?”
“Yes.”
“You’re a man of many talents.” The peach was still alcohol, that
was for sure. There was a caramel sweetness to the aftertaste that made the
burning in my mouth more enjoyable though. I also had this great fuzzy
feeling tickling up my torso and lightening my head. I imagined that
peaches were tumbling around in my insides.
“Good?” I nodded and watched as his lips twitched in the barest
smile.
“So,” I began the opening to my question now that I had tipsy
bravery on my side. “Are you going to tell me why you have such a bad
reputation in town? People are scared of you. Even that Wheeler guy.”
“Have you seen me?”
 “What’s your point? They’re not scared of you because you’re tall.”
I looked him up and down and amended it to “big.”
“I’m an ugly son of a bitch. It spooks people.” He stroked his
fingers through his beard.
“You are not.” I rolled my eyes. “What’s the real reason?”
Joshua cocked his head, skepticism written plainly on his face. Maybe
two months ago my opinion would have been different, though I never
thought him ugly. Now that I’d gotten to know him, I saw past his hardness.
When he actually smiled, it was friendly, even charming. His face was
becoming a familiar comfort to me.
He took a long sip before saying, “I told you. Folks know what I’m
capable of.”
“What are you capable of?” The question came unfiltered.
His jaw worked and he was suddenly fixated on his hands. “Doing
whatever it takes to survive.”
“Joshua,” I was approaching treacherous territory but the drink was
impairing my better judgment. “Those were Tommy Wheeler’s men chasing
me, weren’t they?”
I didn’t think he could clench his jaw any harder. I was wrong.
“Yeah.” He snarled the word, anger from earlier flaring up like wildfire on
dry brush. Then he stiffened, every muscle in his body tense in anticipation
of the question he knew was coming next.
What did you do to those men?
Could I pretend that I didn’t already know? It wasn’t hard to put it
together. I tossed the question back and forth in my head. What good would
it do to hear him say it? I wanted more of that laughter, more of those hot
chocolate eyes and the warm glitter that his smile lent them. If I asked, I
might not get those again tonight.
“Uh-huh. I see it now.” I squinted at him.
His tone was cautious. “See what?”
“You’re the most dangerous man ‘round these parts.” I swallowed
more drink, finishing with an exaggerated wink. “But you don’t scare me.”
“Maybe I should.”
I snorted a laugh, catching him off guard. He watched while I
finished my drink, ruminating in that quiet way of his. He finally broke his
silence and his gaze by offering me another. I should have said no but I was
enjoying the buzz and I didn’t want the night to end.
 I wouldn’t go as far as to say Joshua was chatty but the drink
definitely loosened his tongue. When I asked him to tell me more about his
life growing up on the farm, I knew I was probably stepping over that
invisible line again. Instead of bristling, Joshua told a hilarious childhood
story about chasing escaped goats as they ate their way through an entire
summer’s worth of broccoli. The louder my laughter got, the more
astonished he seemed. That alone had me bursting into giggles.
“Yellow and pink.”
“Hmm?” He tilted a jar to pour us each another. I’d lost track of the
time—not that you could easily tell time after dark when your only
measurement of it was sunup and sundown—and how many drinks I’d had,
too engrossed in Joshua to care.
“Those are my favorite colors. They also happen to be my favorite
Starburst flavors, which happen to be my favorite candy. Besides chocolate
anything. What are yours?” The drink wasn’t making me shudder anymore,
which I suspected meant I was a sheet or two to the wind.
“Colors? I don’t even know if I have one favorite.”
“Really? You don’t have a favorite color? You don’t have a favorite
candy either. You have to have a favorite something.”
“Radishes.” I raised my brows in question. “That’s my favorite
vegetable.” He explained.
“Radishes?” My braying laugh was the least charming sound I’d ever
made, but it made Joshua chuckle. “Do you grow them?”
“Whenever I can.”
“What’s your favorite season?”
“You writing my biography?”
“I’m getting to know you.”
“Spring, I guess.”
“Why?” I probed.
“Startin’ new plants. All the color comes back.”
“Is green your favorite color then?”
He squinted at me. “Maybe so.”
“What’s your favorite song?”
“Don’t have one of those either.”
I tapped my pointer finger on the table. “Joshua who likes radishes,
doesn’t like colors or music, and has never eaten candy. Unless chewing a
Tootsie Roll for half a minute counts.”
 “Sounds about right.”
“So, what do you do for fun?”
He made his hand into a gun and mimed pulling the trigger. “Shoot
things.”
“Ah, how…charming. You have strange hobbies.”
He swallowed his last mouthful of moonshine and pushed his chair
away from the table, motioning me to follow. “Let’s go.”
“Where are we going?” I copied him, shooting back the rest of my
drink and wondering if I should have gone a little slower.
Joshua knelt beside the fireplace and tossed in two more logs.
“You’re shivering, probably because you insist on wearing a dress in
autumn.”
“It makes me feel pretty.” I plunked down on the floor beside him.
Within minutes the fire was blazing, almost too hot to sit as close as
I was. I didn’t think it was Joshua’s intention to get me drunk but he hadn’t
considered that the amount of drink that would get him buzzed was enough
to make me stupid.
I giggled too hard at something he said, stopping abruptly when I
nearly tipped over. “I think I’m drunk.”
“I think you’re right.”
I pressed the glass to my lips only to realize there was nothing left in
it. Why was I still holding it? “I can’t believe the first time I got drunk was
in a shack with a man I met in the woods. My mother would be horrified.”
“You’ve never been drunk before?”
“I’ve had a few sips of wine on special occasions. Where would I even
get a drink? I’d have to find someone older to buy it for me.”
“Someone older?” Joshua probed. “How old are you?”
“Twenty one in December.” I answered proudly. “Which isn’t that
far off, is it?”
“Twenty one?” His eyebrows moved even further up his forehead,
fully revealing his eyes. I let myself absorb into those dark irises. How had
it taken me this long to realize Joshua had such pretty eyes?
“I thought you saw my birthday on my driver’s license.”
“I didn’t look. It’s not important.” He cleared his throat then added
“At the time. It wasn’t important at the time.”
I giggled again. “I get it. You have better things to care about than
birthdays.”
 “I do—no, I mean—I didn’t realize you were so young.” Maybe I
wasn’t the only one feeling the excess of moonshine. Joshua was flustered.
“So young? I can’t be that much younger than you. How old are
you?”
“Twenty five.”
“See! We’re only five years apart. When is your birthday?”
“Early May.” He replied.
I drew on my finite knowledge of astrology. “Ah, Taurus.
Dependable, sensual, stubborn.”
“Huh?”
“Your sign.”
“You really believe that?” I couldn’t tell if he was mocking or
genuinely curious.
“Duh!”
He chuckled and I was tempted to leap up and wave my arms
around in celebration. Tonight was the first time Joshua actually seemed
human. Tonight was also the first time he talked to me, really talked to me.
For two months I dug and dug, only receiving grains of sand for my effort.
Hearing him candid felt like seeing the whole beach, stretching all the way
to a sunlit horizon.
Instead of showing my elation, I yawned. The warm thrum of
moonshine was energizing at first but as the night wore on, I began to feel it
evaporate from my veins and rise, forming dense clouds in my brain. I
yawned again, drowsiness overtaking any remaining enthusiasm.
“Time for bed.” Joshua stood with a stretch, making the hem of his
shirt rise and his jeans pull taut. The longer I watched him, the more
appealing he became. How did someone so big move with such easy
grace? How could he be so confident without a bloated ego? And why did
it take me so long to appreciate this undomesticated form of masculinity?
All those preppy boys in golf shirts that I fawned over seemed vapid
compared to Joshua’s wildness. From where I was sitting, feral mountain
man looked great.
“Really great…” I mumbled.
“What?”
My cheeks felt like sparks had jumped from the fireplace and
engulfed them. “I meant to say that tonight was really great—I’m having
fun! I don’t want to go to bed.” Okay, that only made me sound slightly like
a stubborn child.
“And you won’t be having fun tomorrow when you’re tired and
hungover.”
“I’ve never had a hangover. Are they really that bad?” He answered
with a grunt that could mean anything.
Joshua leaned down and took my hand, meaning to lift me from the
floor. I brushed my fingers along his palm, feeling the rough patches
toughened by years of work, before gripping his wrist and letting him heave
me onto my feet. Once upright, I immediately stumbled backward. Being
drunk on the floor was one thing, being drunk and standing up was a whole
different challenge. He caught my upper arms, much gentler than his
normally firm grip, and steadied me.
“I guess I can’t hold my moonshine.” I ran my hands through my
hair in an attempt to compose myself, getting my fingers tangled and having
to tug them out.
“I think you’ll hold it better if you have less next time.”
“Yup. Good idea. Definitely less…time.” I blinked rapidly. “Next
time. Less next time.”
I took a step toward the bed and wobbled again, knocking into
Joshua’s chair and sending it across the floor with a screech. He returned
his hands to my arms, guiding me through the living room and to the
bedside. I turned to give him a grateful smile. The left side of his mouth
curved, clearly finding my drunken state funnier than he wanted to let on.
When his mouth moved his mustache wiggled.
“What’s it like having so much hair on your face?” I marveled at the
bristly black mat that hid his jaw.
“Feels like having hair on your face,” he answered dryly.
“I want to know what it feels like.” I shouldn’t have thought it,
much less decided to act on it. I just couldn’t get the urge out of my head.
Not after I saw that tiny hint of a smile. Joshua had a great smile. I wished it
wasn’t so rare. His lips twitched again and suddenly I noticed how soft they
looked—exactly the opposite of his coarse beard. The facial hair was only
an excuse. “I bet I know how to find out.”
His smile widened. “Oh?”
I grabbed the sides of his face before he could stop me, standing
high on my tiptoes to kiss him. It was just a peck, not even long enough for
him to kiss me back. I don’t think he would have if I gave him the chance. I
didn’t really want to find out. I didn’t want this perfect night to end in
rejection.
I guess if I’d considered it for one whole second, I would have
realized that kissing him out of the blue was a great way to guarantee the
night ended in rejection. Of course he wouldn’t kiss me back. He wasn’t
interested in me, not like that. It was pretty clear, wasn’t it?
Joshua tolerated me. That was all.
As soon as I told myself that I questioned it. Maybe he wasn’t attracted
to me but I was his friend, wasn’t I?
“Sorry, I just…” I quickly dropped my hands to my sides but didn’t
move away, only stood there with my mouth stupidly agape. I was close
enough that I could smell the sharp moonshine scent on his breath. He
stared back at me with eyes slightly wide but his expression schooled into
that practiced neutral. I had no idea what was going on behind that stony
countenance. My heart was threatening to explode and it felt like the sun
would come up before he said anything.
What was I thinking?
“You should have some water.” He pivoted on his heel and strode
into the kitchen, as casual and calm as always. A moment later he returned
with a glass, handing it to me in a way that made it impossible for our hands
not to touch. When my fingertips met his, soft skin meeting callouses in the
same way they had only moments ago, Joshua jolted back.
I swallowed a mouthful that was far too big, turning to rest the glass
on the nightstand so he wouldn’t see me choking on water and
embarrassment. My mouth fell back open with a cough, ready to blurt out
anything to absorb the awkwardness from my blunder.
I finally filled the silence with a hurried “thank you.”
“For?”
“Taking me with you today.”
“I needed the help.”
“I wasn’t exactly helpful. I know you were trying to be nice. I’m
grateful.” I hoped that distracting him with his least favorite sentiment,
gratitude, would make him forget the kiss.
“You were helpful.”
“Right up until you had to carry half my load home.” I muttered,
relaxing a fraction when he didn’t seem offended. Though, he was being
weirdly nice. I blamed it on the alcohol.
“Better than carrying it all alone.” For a heartbeat I got the feeling
we were talking about more than just our trip today. I was probably reading
too much between the lines. Blame that on the alcohol too.
I scrunched my lips up and made eye contact with my sock covered
toes. “I’m glad I could help. I’d like to do more of that.”
“Careful, I’ll really put you to work.” His tone stayed light, playful
even.
I tilted my chin up, my gaze level with his sternum. He was still
unusually close. And he still smelled good. Don’t make this weirder by
sniffing him. “You should. Put me to work. I’m good at it. At work.”
And stop talking, good grief.
“Tomorrow. Goodnight, Liv.” Joshua’s wool socks made a hissing
sound as they skimmed across the wooden floor and back to the rug. The
noise ended abruptly, replaced by the scrape of his chair returning to its
rightful place, then a groan as he lowered himself into it. I dared a glance in
his direction in time to see him shift toward the dying fire, hiding his face
from view.
I could just make out his hand when he lifted two fingers and
pressed them to his lips. Maybe that was one of his regular mannerisms and
I simply hadn’t noticed. Or maybe…maybe alcohol made me foolish in
more ways than one.
He said my name. It shouldn’t be a big deal. Friends said each
other’s names all the time, but I could probably count how many times he’d
used mine on one hand. If he addressed me at all it was usually with some
nickname that would be insulting if I hadn’t come to recognize it as another
weird Joshua affection.
“Goodnight, Joshua.” I whispered before collapsing onto the bed. I
considered taking off the dress and putting on one of the winter shirts I
brought home. Even with the fire going, this side of the cabin was chilly at
night. When I sat back up my head was spinning and my stomach lurched. I
decided pulling the blanket up to my neck would be enough and nestled
under the covers.
Just before falling asleep I brought two fingers to my lips, touching
the only memory I’d ever have of kissing Joshua.

[Link]
 18
Pride and Prejudice

There were no alarm clocks in the end of the world. Well, there were
plenty of them, I’m sure, but none of them worked anymore. Even if they
did, I doubted Joshua would use one. He wouldn’t need one since he didn’t
sleep in the first place. Every morning he was up before sunrise—which
wasn’t that early now that the days were getting shorter—and making a
ruckus in the kitchen.
That was my alarm clock. He wanted to wake me but he wasn’t
about to sit on the edge of the bed and shake me. No, he just banged pots
and pans around until I bolted upright with a gasp. My gasp this morning
was followed by a pained groan and fingers pressed to my throbbing
temples.
So, this is a hangover.
It felt like someone stuffed cotton balls between my brain and my
skull. The stuffy pain had my forehead pulsating whenever I moved. On top
of that my tongue felt like it was coated in sand and my stomach was a
roiling sea. I remembered the glass of water on the nightstand and reached
for it. It was empty. I must have finished it in my sleep. Maybe I didn’t like
drinking that much after all.
“Mornin’, Miss Moonshine.” Joshua rumbled from the kitchen.
I’d been so focused on my suffering that I scarcely noticed him. He
stood at the stove, his broad back to me. Steam billowed up around him
from a pot of boiling water as he poured it into the French press, drowning
a spoonful of ground dandelion root. There was a notable lack of a frown
when he glanced over his shoulder.
Huh. Joshua was in the same good mood this morning as the night
before.
I thought back to yesterday; our trip to Rockham Falls, our quiet
walk home, our dinner together, Joshua smiling, Joshua laughing, Joshua’s
lips when I—oh my God, I kissed him.
But he didn’t kiss me.
 What did he do? Nothing. He didn’t say or do anything. I was drunk.
He knew that. Was that why he didn’t do anything? Or was it because I
made an unwanted advance? Of course that was it. Joshua and I were
friends. It was an odd friendship and he probably wouldn’t introduce me to
someone as his friend but that was definitely what we were. And by kissing
him I crossed a very clear line.
He didn’t seem upset with me though. What did that mean?
Nothing. It meant nothing and I would only drive myself crazy trying to
interpret emotions that weren’t there. People did dumb things when they
were drunk and that was my very first time. He was giving me a pass. He
was pretending that it didn’t happen so we could move on with our lives
and keep things from getting awkward.
Alright-y then, I could do that too. I desperately wanted to pretend it
didn’t happen because otherwise I had to face whatever feelings came with
kissing Joshua—wanting to kiss Joshua—and knowing that he didn’t feel
the same.
Yeah, I decided I really didn’t like drinking. It made me feel a lot
worse than just a headache and nausea.
“Is it a good morning?” I groaned louder and stumbled out of bed. I
was wearing the sundress from last night and the moment the covers fell
away I was shivering and layered in goosebumps.
“I never said it was a good morning. I just said it was morning.”
Joshua still had his back to me but I swear he was smiling. “It will be good
once you get some water down.” He was enjoying my discomfort, the jerk.
I should have warned him before stripping out of my dress. A clatter
and a loud clearing of his throat told me he turned around then back again
hastily enough to drop his spatula on the floor. I wasn’t feeling particularly
modest at the moment. He’d seen me before and though I’d probably gained
five or ten pounds, it wasn’t like there was much to look at.
I quickly wiggled into a pair of jeans, a thermal, and my last pair of
new socks. The inside was still fuzzy and soft, an uncommon luxury after
the blackout.
“I don’t think I like moonshine.” I pulled out the first chair within
reach, plopped down into the seat, and laid my head on the table with
another dramatic noise.
Joshua set a plate of food next to my face, placing his beside mine,
one seat closer than we usually sat together. Not that it really made a
difference. It was a small table and he was a big man. We were closer than
he probably liked no matter where I sat.
“I think you liked it just fine. You ought to go easy next time is all.”
I pointed an accusatory finger in his general direction. I couldn’t
actually see where he was with my eye closed to the growing brightness
outside the kitchen window. “You’re the one that was pouring.”
“I overestimated your hardiness.” He settled in his chair. His heel
landed on top of my toes but he didn’t recoil. A good sign.
Wow, the end of the world has made me sad and desperate if
someone not recoiling is as good as affection.
“For once.”
“Guess it’s your turn to be grumpy.” Was he teasing me now?
Joshua really was in a good mood. Not because I kissed him.
Probably because he got a good haul at the market yesterday and had a
chance to relax afterwards. And today was going to be a light workday for
him. I would be in a good mood too.
I pushed through the stuffy headache and sat up with a wan smile.
“Someday you should take me up on that help I keep offering and make me
cook for you. Otherwise you’re running a free bed and breakfast.”
He took a huge bite of eggs before responding. If there was food in
front of him, he couldn’t talk without his mouth full. “Oh, I plan to put you
to work. Yesterday was a test. Now that you can carry a pack, you can dig
potatoes. And harvest more from the green house, clean the chicken coop,
feed the goats. I’ve got plenty for you to do that’s more important than
breakfast.”
“Ah, now it’s really time to pay my debt. Are you going to marry
me off to one of your sons too?”
“You don’t owe me a debt.” He chewed thoughtfully. “Why would I
marry you to my nonexistent son?”
“It was joke. You know, because last night you said your favorite
book is Pride and Prejudice?” I waved a hunk of bread at him.
“Which you have clearly never read if that was meant as a
reference.”
“What? Of course, I have! There are totally arranged marriages and
stuff.” I lied so poorly that I felt the need to mutter “Or at least I’ve seen the
movie…I think.”
 “You’re going to be very busy reading this winter.” He sipped his
tea, lips curving over the rim of his mug.
Stop staring at his lips. God, what was wrong with me? Hopefully I
wasn’t being too obvious.
“Cool. Books. I love those.” I cut a small roll in half and focused a
little too hard on buttering it.
A few quiet bites passed before Joshua suddenly asked, “Did you
mean it last night?”
I stopped, full fork halfway to my face. “Did I mean what?”
Did I mean it when I kissed you? No, of course not. Silly me. I was
drunk!
“About helping?”
I hoped that he didn’t hear my sigh of relief. “Of course. I’ll dig
potatoes!”
“I’ve got to kick winter prep into high gear. Means I’ll probably be
out hunting a few times in the next two or three weeks. The more cured
meat I can get prepared, the more I’ve got to trade before it gets too snowy
to travel to town. I can’t manage that and the end of season harvest. Since
you offered, I was thinking I could get you set up to do most of that for
me.” There was a tentative note to his words.
“You’re asking me?”
His browns bunched in confusion. “Yes?”
“Usually you just thrust a tool into my hand and point.” I thrust my
fork at him to demonstrate. “You don’t have to ask, Joshua. Helping you
around the farm is the least I can do.”
“You’re not obligated.”
“I am. It’s my rent.”
“Not your debt.”
“Sure.”
He dropped the knife he was using to butter a roll and looked me
square in the face. “Liv, you don’t owe me anything.”
“Okay.” I pursed my lips. “But if I’m going to stay, I’m going to
contribute. It’s only right.”
His focus lingered on the bread in his grip. If I didn’t know any
better, I would have thought he sounded disappointed when he mumbled
“if?”
 “Well, you could still kick me out and make me hibernate in a bear
cave all winter.” Technically he never did issue an invitation for me to stay
through winter. He never really invited me at all. It was more of a
command, one I was eager to follow when I’d been helpless and starving. I
still couldn’t really see what was in it for him, not unless he followed
through with putting me to work.
He snorted and I got the feeling it wasn’t because he thought the
bear cave part of that remark was funny. My future on the farm, at least for
now, was secure.
“I’d like to go back to town before the snow comes. It’s going to be
a lot of walking but it’s the last chance to get more seeds and supplies
before winter. Need to find some winter boots for you. You up for that?” He
continued.
Joshua had taken it upon himself to make sure I was well fed and
properly equipped. He wasn’t the most sociable and he could use a brush up
on table manners but more and more I was beginning to suspect that deep
down, Joshua was a kind person. Suspicious with a heavy dose of self-
preservation but that didn’t mean he cared for no one. His care just didn’t
look like other people’s. It was never going to be soft or comforting. That
wasn’t him.
That realization came with a rush of relief. Maybe all this time I’d been
discouraged because I wanted something from Joshua that he wasn’t
capable of giving. I’d selfishly been expecting him to behave the way I was
accustomed to, not the other way around. I was in his world now. It was me
who should learn to bend.
“Really? We’re going again? Yes! Count me in. That was fun. Most
of it, anyway.” I sipped my tea.
By now my anger at him over keeping Rockham Falls a secret had
mostly subsided. We were going to have to have a chat about lying—or
omitting, if you asked him—but it could wait. I wasn’t keen on broaching
the topic and wrecking the pleasant peace between us.
“Wheeler shouldn’t bother you a second time. Not now that he knows
you’re mine.” A hint of that unsettling coolness seeped into his tone.
“Yours?” I choked on a bite of eggs, sputtering into my cup of tea
until I could manage a gulp.
Joshua scowled at my coughing, as if I was interrupting him on
purpose, and continued like he hadn’t just verbally claimed me like
territory. “I can’t promise that, though. He and his have been restless lately.
Winter is on the way and I get the feeling they aren’t as prepared as they
should be. And there’s tension, only getting worse with the weather. Don’t
have to worry ‘bout it yet but we can’t be too careful.”
“What does any of it have to do with you? Is it just because he
wants what you’ve got on the farm?”
Joshua cleared his throat loudly and went back to speaking to his food
rather than me. “There’s bad blood between Wheeler and my father. That’s
a big part of it. But you’re right. He wants the livestock, he wants me to
trade them the food that I grow, and he wants me to teach his men to cure
meat properly. Idiots keep making themselves sick.”
“And you won’t do that because of your father?”
“Because Wheeler is a piece of shit.” Joshua cleared his throat again
and corrected himself. “Because he’s a bad person. I don’t agree with what
he and his men get up to and I don’t agree with their presence in town.”
I laughed when he felt the need to change his language for my sake.
Did he transform into a gentleman overnight? “That says a lot about you.”
“Should say more about him.” He speared his last bite of egg with
an angry jab.
“I meant it as a good thing.” I forked a piece of mushroom and
concentrated on it so he didn’t see the slight blush on my cheeks. We were
both making more eye contact with our breakfast than we were with each
other. “I misjudged you before. I thought you didn’t care about what people
like Tommy Wheeler did.”
Joshua wasn’t going to dwell on his feud with Wheeler or
acknowledge my makeshift apology. “I’ve got to go north too. Maybe just
once. I’d like to get as much ammunition as I can.”
“You’ve got an armory downstairs. Why do you need more bullets?”
“It’s not something I want to run out of. And I’ll need extra so I can
teach you to shoot.”
“Um, no, you don’t have to worry about that. I am far too easily
startled to be trusted with a gun. I know the basics. My dad used to have a
handgun.” I shook my head so vehemently my hair almost landed in my
mug.
“You’re going to learn to shoot.”
“I’m a pacifist and vegetarian, remember? No guns.”
“You’re a terrible vegetarian.”
 “But I’m a good pacifist. I haven’t hurt anyone yet.”
“And you won’t be so proud of that if you need to and you can’t.”
Joshua finally returned to that commanding tone that was standard for him,
the one that left little room for argument. “I’m not leaving you alone out
here without knowing how to defend yourself.”
“You’ve done it before.”
“’Cause I really needed to. When I take Kuna hunting, you’re going
to be on your own.” He scraped his plate. “You shouldn’t need me to
protect you from men like Wheeler.”
I immediately wanted to snap “I don’t need you to protect me” but it
was both untrue and unfair. I was too timid to even pull my hand out of
Tommy’s grasp yesterday. If Joshua hadn’t been there and I was on my
own, I had no idea what could have happened to me. He was right. I should
know how to defend myself.
And perhaps I shouldn’t be insulted. He wasn’t calling me weak; he
was telling me that he wanted me to be strong. There was a big difference
between the two.
“Fine but if you expect me to carry around a gun then you’ll have to
stop sneaking up on me.”
“I never sneak up on you. You ought to be more observant.”
I mock-glowered at him and reached for his plate. Our knuckles
touched and he quickly dropped his hand under the table. We were back to
that already. I shouldn’t be disappointed. Why did it matter if Joshua didn’t
want to be touched? It didn’t. It might hurt my self-esteem less if he didn’t
shrink away from even accidental touches but it wasn’t his responsibility to
care about my ego. If anything, I should be grateful for how easy and
relaxed this morning was considering my mistake last night.
Now if only I could actually view it as a mistake.

[Link]
 19
Robots with Feelings

Kuna joined us on our trip to Rockham Falls this time, happily

darting in and out of the trees with her tongue lolling out. We took a
different route than we had the first time, not that I could really tell the
difference. When I was standing in the forest it all looked the same to me.
Joshua frequently took different trails to and from trading posts and when
he was hunting, careful not to leave one that was obviously man made.
These were the type of details that would never occur to me. Days
like today I was reminded just how helpless I was without Joshua.
Everything I knew about survival came from him. It desperately made me
want to be more useful.
We hadn’t been hiking for long when the scenery began to look
familiar and I wasn’t entirely sure why. Until we came upon the railroad
tracks, that is. They didn’t lead directly to Rockham Falls but if I had
continued walking along them like I planned nearly three months earlier, it
stood to reason that I would have found the town.
Whether or not he had good intentions, a small part of me was still
angry at Joshua for lying about it. It wasn’t the actual lie that bothered me
as much as the ease with which he told it. He was a good liar and that made
me nervous. We needed to be able to trust each other. I was putting my
wellbeing in his hands and, to a lesser extent, he was putting his in mine.
There was a chink in the safety that Joshua armored me with and I
feared that small insecurity could become a breaking point.
If I was being realistic with myself, my anger had little to do with
feeling unsafe. It was only a band-aid for the hurt I didn’t want to
acknowledge. Joshua had my back, this much I knew. Even when I was
nothing more than a hopeless, starving stranger to him, he protected
me. That was the problem.
What was once infuriating behavior from Joshua had somehow
become endearing. He was the furthest from charming a person could be,
but it wasn’t on purpose. I was beginning to understand him, to see who he
was under all that gruff and grit, and with that understanding came a fragile
whisper of feeling—feeling I was terrified to admit to myself because it
would never be returned.
Joshua was guided by a particular set of rules and morals, ones that
were crafted around the idea of survival. This meant that self-preservation
was of the utmost importance to him. It wasn’t because he was selfish, it
was only because he’d been built that way. Somehow, taking me in fit
within the code that dictated his decisions, just like trading with people who
needed it most did.
I wasn’t even sure if he recognized or understood this behavior.
With Joshua, everything he did seemed innate. Any kindness he offered me
was out of instinct, preserving the carefully organized structure of his
world.
That was Joshua’s greatest flaw. He was highly adaptable so long as
he was in control. I don’t doubt that if I’d shook things up too much, he
would have found somewhere else for me to be. Maybe he would have sent
me packing to Rockham Falls with a note on my back like an abandoned
puppy.
Eventually, the railroad tracks led us to the first creek crossing. It
didn’t meet the tracks, only curved around it as the tracks headed further
north than where we wanted to go. Crossing was more difficult in this spot,
the water raging around the bend, splashing up against the bank like one of
those dizzying waterslides.
Kuna fearlessly waded through the water, as surefooted as Joshua.
He glided over mossy green rocks, barely getting a drop on the leg of his
pants. I struggled over the first three slippery boulders, stalling between the
third and the fourth when the distance was too far to jump. Joshua heaved
an enormous sigh when he saw that I’d stopped.
“Give me your hand.” He barked.
“I can make it. Just give me a sec.”
“Quit fretting about your pride and come here.” He boomed over the
rushing current. Was it just me or had the water level risen with the autumn
rain?
I carefully stretched my arm in his direction. As I did the weight of
my backpack shifted. I flung my arms around like a flapping bird, trying
and failing to regain my balance. My boot slipped and I lurched forward. I
jutted hands out, expecting to hit stone and water, and instead found myself
stumbling into Kuna as Joshua swung me onto the shore. It was an
awkward move but at least I was dry.
Another quarter mile of walking passed without incident. Then I
really recognized where we were and I froze in place, my feet leaden with
dread. Joshua got about twelve feet in front of me before he noticed I
wasn’t behind him. His impatience buffeted me like a breeze but for once I
didn’t care. I was too busy being utterly paralyzed.
Before us was a small clearing. Fallen leaves painted the ground in
hues of red and orange but the leaning trunk of a maple and the verdant
clusters of salal looked the same as they had almost three months ago. A
carpet of lime green moss peeked out in patches beneath the coating of
autumn colors. It should have been lovely, but I couldn’t see beyond the
swift and sudden anxiety that was blurring my vision.
Nothing happened. I got away. I had no reason to be this frightened.
But I was suddenly aware of just how dire my situation had been, just how
close I came to death or worse. It was easy to push it aside when I was back
at the farm, letting it fade into a series of unwanted memories I didn’t
intentionally revisit.
The drumbeat of my pulse flushed all sound from my ears. I
couldn’t even hear my frantic panting, could only feel it when Joshua
pressed a palm to my sternum. My field of view was suddenly filled with
brown, uncharacteristic worry swirling in the chocolate depths of Joshua’s
eyes. His lips were forming words but it was like my brain had lost all
ability to comprehend. Everything he said was overridden by the fearful
thoughts on repeat in my head.
They found me. Someone finally found me. Run! Never get found.
Don’t let anyone find you. Run!
“Olivia, breathe!” Joshua pinched my collar bone of all things,
jolting me back into reality so quickly that I fell to my knees, clutching
handfuls of moss and gasping in huge breaths. I belatedly realized that I had
actually been running, forcing a confused Joshua and Kuna to chase after
me.
Warm hands came around my cheeks. It wasn’t intended to be
tender, Joshua was only searching my eyes to make sure my momentary
crazy spell was over, but the touch was so comforting that I gripped his
wrists to hold him in place.
“Sorry.” I gasped. “Sorry, sorry, sorry.”
 “Breathe.” It was the gentlest word I’d ever heard him utter, forcing
my body to obey. My diaphragm relaxed, letting a gust of cold air burn my
lungs. “You’re having a panic attack.”
“Sorry. I didn’t know. I didn’t know I had panic attacks. Sorry.”
“Stop it, Liv.”
“Right, sorry. Not sorry.” For some reason I laughed, sounding
enough like a crazy person to make that unfamiliar worry crinkle his brow.
“You’re warm.” I blurted, feeling stupid and trying to bring his focus to
anything other than my ridiculous freak out.
Joshua immediately tugged his hands back, making me regret
bringing his attention to the unexpected touch. He rubbed his palms up and
down his thighs, wiping away the warmth he was denying me.
I blinked, taking in our surroundings to hide the longing in my eyes.
I must have followed a remembered path because I’d found my way back to
the railroad tracks. Joshua was kneeling on the ground in front of me,
moisture darkening his denim covered knees.
Kuna stuffed her snout between us, completely oblivious to the
human drama. When I turned my head to acknowledge her, she licked my
chin. It was the most affection I’d ever received from the dog. Maybe she
was more aware of my plight than I thought.
“Liv?” Joshua cleared his throat, swallowing the softness that coated
my name. He didn’t speak again until he’d masked any concern with his
usual sharpness. “Can you walk?”
“Yes. Sorry. I’m fine.” I chewed my bottom lip, cursing the burning
at the back of my eyes. This was pathetic and we both knew it. I was
surprised he hadn’t asked what was wrong with me.
“Stop apologizing.”
My voice was shrill with unshed tears. “But I am sorry! I’ve never
done that before.”
“It’s normal.”
“It’s not. It’s not normal. I totally malfunctioned. I didn’t even know
I was running!” I rubbed my face so vigorously it hurt, willing the fog of
adrenaline to clear my head.
“I had you.”
Of course he had me. He always does.
That only brought on another wave of anxiety, this time triggered by
uncertainty and an ache of loneliness so deep it sent a tremor through me.
Why? Why did he have me? Why did I matter? Why was Joshua crouched
in the mud for me when I was obviously too weak? Too needy? Too
helpless?
“C’mon.” I was on my feet before I could spiral into another panic
attack, Joshua’s firm grip on my upper arms just close enough to painful to
ground me. “We can still make it from here. Kuna likes the tracks anyway.”
I shifted, attempting a furtive glance only to discover him watching
me. The obvious worry was gone but I could still see a hint of
apprehension. He was afraid I would panic again and give away our
location. Or worse, freak out in town and draw too much attention to my
weakness.
I rolled my shoulders back, pretending I didn’t feel like half of my
soul had been drained from my body. “Why does Kuna like the tracks?”
“Rats.” He answered over his shoulder, already walking ahead
again. For once I was glad Joshua wasn’t the kind to coddle when I was
upset. Now that the initial anxiety was fading, I was overcome with
embarrassment. I couldn’t believe such a simple memory pushed me so far
over an edge I hadn’t even been aware of.
On cue, Kuna let out a yip, racing down the tracks in pursuit of a
squealing rodent.
“She’s not going to eat it, is she?”
“She will if she catches it.”
“Gross! She just licked my face!”
Zippers jingled on Joshua’s backpack when he shrugged. “Don’t
trust a dog near your face.”
“What about you?” I asked a few minutes later, the silence making
me fidgety. “Do you like it out here?”
“I don’t like anything.”
Relieved laughter exploded from my chest, so unexpected that it
startled both of us. Joshua glowered at me as I wheezed and snorted,
doubling over so I didn’t stumble backwards. “You—” I started but had to
pause to giggle some more and wipe a stray tear from the corner of my eye.
“You would be much more convincing if you didn’t try so hard. Stop acting
like the Terminator and maybe I’ll believe you.”
“Terminator?”
“Really? No Terminator either?” He shook his head. “Okay, so the
Terminator is a cyborg—”
 “Cyborg?” He interrupted.
“A robot but…with feelings.” I gladly jumped into a description of
the movie plot. It was going to be a long one and by the end, Joshua would
probably be just as confused.
For the rest of our walk, Joshua pestered me with quiet question
after question. I knew he wasn’t that interested in the movie. He was
distracting me and I was so grateful I could kiss him. But I wouldn’t. I was
mortified enough without ruining another good moment. What Joshua was
giving me now, a chance to clear my mind and redeem myself as a
functioning human being, was much better than what anyone else got from
him. Tentative friendship had to be enough.
It is enough. I told myself. What we have now is enough.
I never was a very good liar.

[Link]
 20
Slugfest

“That doesn’t make any sense. Why would robots want to take over
the world?” We were still discussing the Terminator when we arrived at the
main gate leading into town. Joshua halted the conversation to draw the
guard’s attention. Once we were waved in, he lowered his voice but
continued his critique of a movie he hadn’t even seen. Somewhere between
the train tracks and here, he’d actually become invested in the story.
“I told you, they’re sentient! They’re angry that humans enslaved
them and they want freedom. And revenge.” I explained, waving my hands
around to make my point clearer.
“But they’re robots.”
“With feelings!”
“Ridiculous.” He muttered, ending our discussion and slipping on
his mean face. That was my cue to stop talking.
“Liv!” Mary squealed excitedly when she noticed us approaching
the table where Asher and Maddie were set up to trade.
The last time they were right on the edge of the market. Now they
were situated a few rows down, surrounded by other tables and wagons.
Beside them was Mary’s stereo, playing a classic rock CD that seemed to
have a scratch or two. A few people were gathered near Asher’s tent to
enjoy the music, looking surprisingly relaxed.
Hunks of wood, tangy with sap, burned in a portable firepit to
Asher’s right. A giant pot sat over the flames, billowing delicious smelling
steam. He ladled liquid from the pot into a plastic cup and handed it to a
woman, his smile charming as always. That smile stretched wider when he
turned our way and waved.
Joshua nodded but couldn’t be bothered to stop frowning. I barely
squatted in time to keep Mary from hugging my legs out from under me.
The little girl came barreling towards us, arms outstretched with an ear to
ear grin.
“You’re back! Do you want to dance with me? Uncle Ash found
more batteries and we have apple juice.” Mary rushed out.
 “I’d love to dance with you. And I love apple juice.” I returned her
hug, waving to Asher and Maddie from my crouch.
Joshua stood beside me with his arms crossed, making all of the
happy people drinking from plastic cups take several steps back. A bear
could have ambled in and they would have been less nervous.
“Joshua! You made it for Thanksgiving!” Asher called over the din
of conversation and music.
“Thanksgiving?” I arched a brow. “I’m not great at keeping track of
the days but isn’t Thanksgiving supposed to fall on a Thursday?
In November?”
Ash shrugged. “It’ll be too cold by the real Thanksgiving. We’re
celebrating Canadian Thanksgiving this year. Moira and Frank harvested a
couple’a turkeys, Denise’s got potatoes, and I made hot cider with our extra
apples. I can spike it if you want.” He waggled a half full bottle of cheap
whiskey at us and winked.
“Canadians have their own Thanksgiving?” I wrinkled my nose.
“And thanks, but I’ll pass on the whiskey. I’m still hungover from Joshua’s
moonshine two weeks ago.”
“Oh, c’mon Tex, I know Canada is far from Dallas but surely you’re not
that ignorant. Canadians got everything we got, only Canadian.” Asher
handed me a plastic cup. I accepted, realizing too late that I was breaking
Joshua’s “don’t taking anything for free” rule. Maybe he could making an
exception for Thanksgiving.
Joshua put a hand out to decline the cup offered to him and grunted,
“Canada doesn’t exist anymore.”
“You should have some, Joshua. It’s really good.” I sipped the cinnamon-y
cider and smiled. “Do it for the special occasion.”
“Thanksgiving also doesn’t exist anymore.” He said flatly.
“Spoil sport.” I coughed behind my fist.
“Yeah, Scrooge, what’s the big deal?” Asher cupped a hand around his
mouth to ask me, “How are you not bored to death with all the party
pooping?” I was once again struck by how strange and unexpected a
friendship was between Asher and Joshua. Joshua might argue that they
weren’t friends but it was clear he was fond of the man. They were so
different, Asher as amicable as can be. And Joshua? He was, well, Joshua.
I laughed, nudging Joshua’s arm with mine. “I like the grumping. It’s
endearing.”
 Joshua looked down at me like a predatory bird, eyes narrowed. As usual, I
had no idea what the look was supposed to mean so I winked and scurried
off to talk to Maddie before he could take my cider away.
While Joshua was busy trading, I took Mary up on her offer to dance. We
made it through three songs before she was distracted by refilling her drink.
How many cups of cider could one kid drink?
I let my eyes wander the crowd, catching more than a few curious looks.
Whenever my gaze landed on someone else’s, they hurriedly found
something new to stare at. I hadn’t been privy to any of it but there was a lot
of gossip about Joshua—apparently there always had been, even before the
blackout—and I wondered if that gossip now included me. From the faces
people were making, it did.
It shouldn’t matter what anyone thought of me, especially not when the
world was ending, but I was acutely uncomfortable with them thinking I
was using Joshua. He said it would happen the first time we came to
Rockham Falls. I just hadn’t realized what being someone’s “woman”
meant.
I thought maybe they would assume I was his girlfriend, not someone
manipulating him for resources and protection. I could hardly blame anyone
for thinking that, I guess. I did have his resources and protection. He just
wasn’t getting what people thought he was getting in exchange.
Mostly, he was getting “a pain in his rear end.” I was paraphrasing a little.
Once again, I wondered what the heck we were doing. Why was he
bothering with me?
I shook off the question, choosing to soak in the heady cheer filling
the crisp air. Happiness was a rare and precious experience in the end of the
world and I wanted to enjoy it.
Someone was humming a Christmas song that was now going to be stuck
in my head for eternity. Others were telling jokes over a small meal of
Moira’s turkey. The market felt like a big church potluck today. Even the
mayor was engaging in conversation, shaking hands and patting backs
while enjoying his hot cider. Perhaps with a wee sip of that whiskey if the
rosy tint to his cheeks was any tell.
Joshua was mostly immune to the contagious glee, but every once and a
while I felt his scrutinizing eyes turned on me. Whether or not he was
willing to partake, the festivities interested him. He wasn’t vocal about his
childhood and I’d heard enough to guess that was because it wasn’t a very
good one. Maybe he just needed some encouragement to learn how to enjoy
times like these.
I did my best to include him in every conversation, not that he actually
indulged me. I offered to share my drink and a bite of turkey with him too.
He looked at me like I was a crazy person. At least he looked at me.
By the time our market day was winding down, I was buzzing. High on life
in a way I never thought I would be again. Joshua did not feel the same. If
holiday cheer wasn’t enough to tick him off, our last stop to trade was.
I couldn’t remember the man’s name—something with a “T.”
Terrence? Timothy?—but I remembered his face and the two missing teeth
that left gaps in his sheepish smile as he explained to Joshua that his price
for tallow had changed. The price itself wasn’t what set him off—Joshua
had plenty to trade with—so much as it was the reason for the change.
“It’s, um, not for me. I’ve got folks to pay too. Hired some men to
help me keep the cows safe.”
Tallow Terrence—or Timothy—lived outside of town and he wasn’t
the only one. Most anyone raising animals, like Frank and Moira, needed
more space than what was provided in the safety of Rockham Falls. With
rumors of growing raider groups, people were becoming panicked, packing
up and abandoning their animals to take up residence in the church and the
government buildings that had been converted into makeshift hostels.
“And they don’t want your beef?” Joshua prodded.
He swallowed nervously. “Can’t wait for it.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“I don’t want trouble, Joshua. I’ve got to look out for myself. You
understand?”
“You’ve got Wheeler’s men camped out at your place, don’t you?”
Terrence hesitated, scratching his chin. “I’m not safe out there all
alone.”
“You think you’re safer with those bastards at your back?”
“We’ve all gotta do what we’ve gotta do to survive.”
Joshua cursed under his breath. “You better sleep with one eye
open.”
Terrence wasn’t the first to pay for protection from Wheeler and if
Tommy’s numbers were growing like Joshua claimed they were, he
wouldn’t be the last. Maybe Wheeler wasn’t the most stand-up guy but I
didn’t understand why Joshua took that so personally.
 We bid Asher and Maddie a final farewell as we circled back—and
stopped to get more cider, even if it would make me pee six times on the
walk home—and had to wade through a small crowd of people. Or we
would have had to if they didn’t notice Joshua and give him a wide berth.
It was absolutely uncanny when people did that. Kind of creepy, even. Was
there more to Joshua than I’d been made aware of? Was he known to
randomly strike at people or strangle passersby? His demeanor wasn’t
exactly amicable and, yeah, if you weren’t used to his towering, broad
figure it definitely drew the eye, but was he that intimidating? This was a
man who drank chamomile tea while humming to himself, after all.
“Liv, good to see you back in town.” The hair on my nape stood at
attention when someone purred my name from somewhere behind us.
“Keep her name out of your damn mouth.” Joshua whirled, immediately
dropping what he was doing and stepping between Wheeler and I. Kuna
prowled to his side, hyperalert at Joshua’s unease.
Joshua’s back was to me—not blocking me from Tommy’s view
completely, only creating a barrier. I had a sudden yearning to put my hand
on him again not because I was frightened but because I wanted to feel his
ferocity as he stood his ground. I wanted to touch his skin and shield myself
in the same fearlessness that he wore. I wanted to take a piece of his
courage.
“I asked around and learned a little about your girl. Folks like her.”
Tommy lifted a cup of cider and sipped casually. The other hand was
holding a paper bag.
Joshua made an unhappy noise. “I’ve noticed.”
“I felt bad for my behavior last time. I didn’t mean to corner her.”
Another sip, his lips naturally forming a smirk.
“You mean intimidate her.”
“That was never my intention.”
“I don’t care.” Joshua jerked his chin in my direction and stepped
aside. “It should be your intention to never talk to her again.”
“Relax, Joshua. What have I ever done to warrant such hostility? I only
want what you want; to take care of me and mine.” Wheeler extended his
hand, offering the brown paper bag to me. “I brought a gift. A peace
offering of sorts.”
Joshua reached out and snatched the bag before I could even process
what was happening. An ominous cloud darkened his face as he stared at
the contents of the bag.
“What the fuck is this?” He thrust the bag back at Wheeler.
Wheeler put his hands up, refusing it. “I thought she could use them.
No uniforms for her type these days but we can make do.”
Joshua’s nostrils flared, fists clenched around the paper so tight it
crumpled. “What’s your game, Wheeler? Is this what your type does when
they’re bored?”
“Perhaps I’ve misunderstood your arrangement. I thought I was
doing you a favor, giving you something to trade for. Quid pro quo and all
that.”
“Arrangement?” I mouthed, looking to Joshua for clarification.
He gave a slight shake of his head, pressing a big palm over my
stomach and guiding me backward until I could barely see what was going
on.
Tommy sighed dramatically. “I’m a busy man, Joshua, so I’m going to get
right to the point. I’d like you to let my men hunt in your woods
undisturbed. There are more than enough deer to go around but north of
town has less activity to spook them. My men won’t bother you and
your...girl.”
“Bullshit.” Joshua said under his breath.
“I’m sure we can work something out.”
“I’m sure we can’t.” Joshua countered.
“This is an olive branch, son. You would be wise to take it. We
could use a man like you and you could use someone at your back. This
agreement would be mutually beneficial.”
Joshua rested his spare hand above the gun on his hip. “I’ll pass.
Raping and pillaging ain’t really my style.”
“Oh-oh, you think you can play at being self-righteous? Not when
you were raised by a man like your father. I know what he was like. We
all know what kind of man John Sutton was.” He raised his voice on the
last sentence and made a sweeping gesture, drawing the nearby crowd’s
attention.
Joshua’s words snaked from his mouth in a hiss. “You know
somethin’ about what happened to him, Wheeler?”
“Are you still waiting for daddy to come home? What does it say
about a boy when both his parents go out for ciggies and never come back?
Somethin’ real serious must be wrong with you. Fucking hillbilly inbred.”
 Joshua dropped his pack from his shoulders and it was the most
threatening action I’d ever seen. Not good. “If you’ve got any brains that
aren’t stuffed between your shriveled old balls, you’ll shut the fuck up right
now.”
“I think I’m done being threatened by you, Joshua. You’re one man
against the world. Look what I’ve got.” He pointed toward his horses,
where two armed men watched the argument with beady eyes. “Y’know,
back in the day, Helen—you remember your mama, boy? Well, she and I
were real well acquainted. She told me a lot about your father. Things I
didn’t want to know a man was capable of doing to his own family.
Whoever took him out did the world a Goddamned favor. Might be doing
the world another if we end his line here.”
“Try me.”
“You sure you want to pick that fight? Without you around who
would look out for sweet Liv here? Maybe she’d like to get well acquainted
with me too.”
Joshua was powerful but he was also a big man—too big to be swift.
Somehow, he found that swiftness in him. One minute he was standing
beside me with hate radiating off him, the next he was in front of me, his
fist connecting with Wheeler’s face. He lunged so fast I barely registered
the movement.
A chorus of shouts rang out around us. People were calling for
Flores, for the militia, and for Joshua and Tommy to break it up. Kuna was
barking and snapping her teeth in Wheeler’s direction. I wrapped my
fingers around her collar and yanked her back. The last thing I needed was
both her and Joshua in the mix. I was already having a hard time following
the flurry of fists that were flying between the two men. Thankfully, neither
of them were actually hitting each other very often.
Movement behind them dragged my attention from the fight just
long enough for me to see Wheeler’s men advancing. Both were gripping
the handgun holster on their hip.
They were going to shoot Joshua.
Panic had my brain whirring out of control. I didn’t know what to
do. I needed to stop Joshua before he got himself killed but I couldn’t just
jump into the middle of a fist fight. I hopped back and forth on my feet,
shouting Joshua’s name and praying that he would snap out of whatever red
haze was blinding him. Usually he was so controlled. I didn’t know what to
do with Joshua out of control.
Wheeler managed to kick Joshua back, stumbling as he did and
landing awkwardly on one knee. I saw my opportunity and seized it,
leaping in Joshua’s path just as Wheeler’s men drew their guns. It was
terrifying to turn my back to a bunch of armed men but I had to do
something to keep Joshua safe. I slapped both my hands on his chest and
gave him a gentle shove. He didn’t even look at me, just tried to stomp past
me.
“Joshua!” I snapped. “Look at me!” He rolled his shoulders in an
attempt to dislodge my shaking hands. “Please, Joshua. Look at me.” My
voice cracked on his name. “That’s enough.”
With an exhale that almost sounded painful, he did. For that tiny
millisecond his gaze flicked to me and softened just enough to let me know
I had him. He turned his attention back to his opponent, right hand
instinctively cradling the grip on his gun.
“Out!” Suddenly Flores was there with several heavily armed men
at his back. “You know the rules, Sutton! I do not tolerate fighting in my
town.”
I turned to face the newcomers, shielding Joshua with my body. I
didn’t make a very good shield since he was double my width but I still had
this soul-shattering fear that someone was going to shoot him.
Oblivious to my terror, Joshua shoved me to the side and pointed an
angry finger at Wheeler as he addressed Mayor Flores. “One of these days,
this fucker is going to bleed you and take everything you have.”
“He’ll try.” The mayor agreed quietly. “But until then, this is my
town and we follow my rules. I want you out. You’ll get a warning today
but it’s the only one you’ll ever get. Are we clear?”
Joshua looked like he had a new target for his bruised fist so I sidled
up beside him, wrapped my arm around his tensed bicep, and said,
“Abundantly clear. We’ll be on our way.”
“You won’t have the upper hand forever, Joshua. Things are going
to change around here real soon.” Tommy shouted as we shouldered our
packs and rushed to obey Flores.
“You too, Wheeler! Pack up your men and leave. I don’t want to see
your ugly faces in my town again today!” The mayor boomed.
 Joshua turned back to Tommy, a vein in his forehead bulging. “You
threaten her again, it better be because you’re tired of living!”
“Let’s go, Joshua.” I shoved his hand down, wrapping my fingers
around his wrist and tugging him away from another fight.
I threw a glance back and saw Wheeler clutching his stomach. His
face was bloodied and one of his eyes was swollen shut. Horrified, I gave
Joshua’s face another once over. Apparently, he hit Wheeler a lot more
often than Wheeler hit him. His lip was split, his eye was puffy, and there
was a cut over his brow but otherwise, he looked surprisingly good for
someone that just came out of a brawl.
“You shouldn’t have done that. This shit’s got nothing to do with
you.” Joshua stormed toward the gate without bothering to make sure I was
following.
“I’d say it’s a really good thing I did that because they were about to
draw guns on you. They were going to kill you!” I covered my mouth so I
could swallow the wave of nausea that came with that thought. “And, for
the record, it does have to do with me. Sorry, Joshua, your problems are my
problems now.”
“I didn’t make it your problem. I tried to keep you out of this.” He
readjusted his pack with far more force than was needed, making all the
buckles clack together.
“I wasn’t blaming you.”
“Stay out of my way next time.” He was moving at a pace that
required me to jog to keep up with him.
“No.” I stood my ground. Kuna got halfway to Joshua then realized
I hadn’t caught up and stopped between us, conflicted about leaving me
behind but not wanting to get left behind herself.
Experience taught me that Joshua thought he was a man that
wouldn’t be refused, just like his father. And yet, I snubbed his commands
all the time. This was going to be one of those times. I wouldn’t yield and
let him think that he could drag me around town pretending that I was his…
whatever I was while acting like I was completely cut off from all of his
dealings. As evidenced by Wheeler making threats toward me to get under
Joshua’s skin. We were in this together and he had to deal with the fact that
I would be involved with whatever he was involved in.
“No?” He started to yell but shifted to an angry hiss when he
remembered we were surrounded by people that had watched the exchange
with Wheeler and continued to watch us now. “You don’t get a say in the
matter.”
I ran in front of him and pressed a defiant hand into his chest. “Yes,
I do. Now stop that. You have every right to be angry but don’t yell. Not
here and not at me.”
I didn’t give him a chance to respond, only readjusted my pack,
brushed my fingers through the hair behind Kuna’s ears, and carried on in
the direction he’d been going. By the time he stalked after me, scowling and
cursing under his breath like a dramatic teenager, I was already halfway out
the gate.
Joshua didn’t speak to me for the entire journey home. If he was doing
that in an attempt to punish me, it was a total failure. I didn’t care how mad
he was because it was nothing compared to the roiling rage that was
growing in my gut. With every step I took, my anger grew a little more.
How could he be so stupid? Whatever Wheeler said to him about his
parents obviously touched some hidden, painful place in Joshua’s heart but
that didn’t give him an excuse to risk his life. Over words! He could have
died over words that were intended to provoke him.
My fury was down to a simmer when we rolled up to the farm in
Joshua’s sputtering truck. I wanted to show him how disappointed I was but
I was finding it harder to cling to that furious heat from earlier. I couldn’t
stop picturing that look in Joshua’s eyes when Wheeler mentioned his
mother. Helen? Was that her name?
It was so brief and so subtle, something that maybe even he didn’t
realize he felt, but it was there. Raw and honest heartbreak. I didn’t know
much about Joshua’s history and it didn’t seem fair to take any information
from Tommy Wheeler as fact but I was willing to bet there was a whole lot
of pain in that mysterious past of his.
Another layer to Joshua that I might never get the chance to unwrap.
God, I wanted him to share those secrets with me. If he’d let me, I would
shoulder some of that pain for him. I would try to ease that ache that I was
all too familiar with.
I meant what I said. Whether he wanted it that way or not, Joshua’s
problems were my problems now.

[Link]
 21
Quiet Chaos
Joshua
For once, Liv was the one to stomp into the house with mud still on
her boots. Though they were both angry after the events of the day, hers had
been quietly simmering the whole way home, coming closer to a boil with
every minute that Joshua remained silent. It pissed her off when he didn’t
respond to her talking. That wasn’t all he’d done to piss her off, judging by
the scowl that shadowed her face.
“Sit.” Liv snapped, tugging his pack off his shoulders and letting it
thump to the floor when it was too heavy for her to lift. A meeker man
might have been afraid of the dark look she gave him. Joshua only
struggled to hold in laughter. What was she going to do? Make him?
What pissed him off was how easily she managed to soothe his
anger. He was the one that got punched, that had his family history dragged
out in the open for strangers to see. For Liv to see. What right did she have
to be mad about anything? He was defending her as much as his ego. Sure,
he was less than polite but she needed to learn not to interfere with his
dealings in town. Even if she did save his sorry ass.
“Joshua, sit down.” Damn woman actually bared her teeth at him.
When he crossed his arms and met her frown with his own, she
yanked out one of the dining chairs, grabbed his forearms, and pushed him
down onto the seat with a surprising amount of force. It was only because
she caught him off guard with her unexpected manhandling that she got him
to sit. Joshua had to bite back another chuckle when she crossed her arms
and did an excellent imitation of his looming. Unfortunately for Liv, she
was barely taller than him when he was seated.
After a short stare down, she turned her back to him and plucked the
first aid kit from one of the kitchen drawers, making a mess of it with her
rifling. He refrained from telling her that she was wasting medical supplies
because he knew that wouldn’t make a difference. Stubborn woman would
fuss about infections until he was too annoyed to say no to her.
 Joshua took a long, calming breath as Liv got to work cleaning his
brow. Her soft knuckles brushed his cheek and he resisted the temptation to
close his eyes and lean into the contact. That was a common reaction to her
touch lately. He quickly switched his focus to the temperature of her skin,
reminding himself that he needed to find her a pair of gloves soon. When
she was done sanitizing his very superficial wounds, Liv gently stretched a
butterfly bandage over what must have been a notable cut over his left
brow.
She lingered once she was finished, feathering fingers under his eye
and whispering, “You’re going to have a bruise.”
The tremor in her voice caused him to look up and see all of the heat
gone from her expression. Instead of fury in her minty eyes, he saw silent
tears spilling over onto her cheeks. Dammit, why was she crying? Joshua
hadn’t been that mean to her, had he? She chewed her bottom lip, averting
her gaze, but still didn’t remove her fingers from their place under his eye.
“Don’t cry.” Joshua hated it when she cried. The unbidden words
came out gruff and only seemed to upset her further.
“Sorry,” she clicked her jaw shut, “I know it’s so annoying when I
show emotions. I’ll try to be a robot like you.” There wasn’t an ounce of
teasing in her voice.
Liv silently cleaned up the first aid kit, grabbed a handful of clothes
from where she stored them under the bed, and shut herself in his bedroom.
Ten minutes later she came out wearing his flannel over her top. A pair of
his wool socks flopped loose on her feet. Why she kept stealing his socks
when they were a whole foot too big for her, he had no idea. She looked
ridiculous but Joshua was smart enough not to say it.
Her mismatched outfit was so distracting that he didn’t realize Liv
was pouring him a drink until she set a glass of moonshine next to his fisted
hand on the table. Again, her knuckles brushed him, warm this time, and he
had a sudden urge to reach out for her hand.
Joshua shook the thought away and took a deep swallow of his
drink. When he rose from the table he was wordlessly shooed out of the
kitchen. Not wanting to let her think she could order him around, Joshua
stood motionless and in her way for a solid minute, taking the time to
observe her as he did.
Liv’s nose was pink and her eyes were still puffy but the tears had
stopped. Any frustration was replaced with defeat as she busied herself on
the opposite end of the kitchen, very determined to avoid him. Joshua
couldn’t figure out what he’d done wrong this time—other than raise his
voice, which wasn’t exactly out of the ordinary—but that annoying and all
too familiar guilt was nibbling at him. He stepped closer, planting himself
between her and the counter where she was collecting ingredients.
What his intention was, Joshua couldn’t say. He only knew he
couldn’t stand this uncharacteristic silence from her and the sad slump of
her shoulders. Liv returned to her cutting board, realizing that Joshua
wasn’t going to move. She locked her gaze on his chest for a few long
breaths before shifting her focus to his face. Joshua forced himself to meet
her eyes.
Liv glanced up for one heartbeat before her bottom lip started
wobbling again. “What are you doing?” She whispered.
“Standing in my kitchen.”
The tears threatening to leak began to dry up. “Oh-kay.” She tried to
move around him but he blocked her. “Why are you being weird?”
“Why are you being weird?”
“I’m not being weird.” She tapped the cutting board still clutched in
her hand. “I’m making dinner.”
“Quietly.” What the fuck is wrong with me?
“Did you want me to make noise? I thought quiet was your thing.”
“My thing?” He cleared his throat. “It is. I like quiet.”
“Oh-kay.” She repeated, drawing the word out and staring at him.
He couldn’t blame her. Joshua was being weird. “Can I...?” Liv gestured to
the counter behind him.
He shifted to the side, allowing her to place her board and start
cutting onions. The knock of her knife as it sliced through vegetables was
the only sound beside the hiss and crackle of the fireplace. Every time she
added an ingredient to the bowl in front of her, her elbow bumped his hip.
Finally, she scowled up at him and propped her hands on her hips.
“You’re still being weird.”
Joshua lifted his cup to shield himself from her accusation and made
his way to the living room, settling in his chair with a groan. His body
ached and the bruise over his eye throbbed.
They didn’t speak through dinner. Liv continued her careful
avoidance, completely ignoring his scrutiny. Normally he was much more
subtle when he studied the curves of her face or the way her lips moved
when she ate but tonight, he couldn’t claim subtlety. It wasn’t like her to be
so quiet. And why the hell wouldn’t she look at him? The silence was
beginning to drive him mad.
Kind of ironic, really, that the persistent chatter that had once been
the bane of his daily routine was now an essential part of it. Joshua didn’t
know what to do without it. He couldn’t be the one to start a conversation,
not without some kind of prompt.
By the time dinner was cleaned up, he was already on his second
glass of moonshine. Drinking as a result of stress was a dangerous road to
go down, he knew that all too well, but he hadn’t even noticed that he fixed
himself another until it was already in his hands. He let the moonshine sit
on his tongue, mulling over the taste and his predicament before enjoying
the sharp burn on his throat. The slight buzz from the drink was almost
enough to make him say something—anything—just to get Liv talking.
That was when he finally had an idea. Joshua hurried to the cellar,
skipped half the rungs on the ladder, and fumbled around in the dark until
he found the jar he hoped was peach moonshine. There was no guarantee
that anything was where it should be with blondie rearranging all of his shit.
Liv eyed him curiously when he returned to the kitchen, accidentally
slamming open a cabinet door in his rush to get to the glasses. Was it unfair
to use alcohol to settle her mood when he knew she couldn’t hold her
liquor? This time he wouldn’t let her have more than one. And he would be
on guard in case she became overly affectionate.
A wool blanket hid her defeated posture as she curled up in the chair
opposite his. The toes of his socks were the only visible part of her below
the waist. A grunt of amusement escaped before he could hold it in. Liv
squeaked like a startled squirrel, too lost in thought to notice his arrival.
When he thrust the glass at her she gave him a wilted smile and said,
Thanks, Joshua.” He almost groaned sweet relief at the sound of her voice.

I learned a long time ago that Joshua didn’t apologize. What hadn’t
occurred to me was that it was because he didn’t know how. Sure, saying
the words “I’m sorry” seemed pretty simple but to someone who was never
made to do it, it wasn’t. Instead of using his words to make up for bad
behavior, Joshua got weird. He hovered in the kitchen, his eyebrows
speaking some language I had yet to learn.
 I hadn’t planned on accepting that as an apology, but when I saw
that desperate, sad puppy expression on his face as he offered me a drink, I
dropped the last handful of resentment I’d been squeezing all evening. The
eggplant bruise around his eye definitely gave him an unfair advantage.
“How’s your face?” I asked quietly.
“Fine.”
A moonshine shiver had me tingling all the way to my toes. “I don’t
think the other guy can say the same.”
Joshua gave me the faintest of smiles and wow, how did bruises and
a swollen lip make him look more handsome? “You’re pretty brave for a
squirrel.”
“I’m not the one that punched a man that had armed friends standing
behind him.”
“You did more than that and you know it. You meant business.”
That was probably as close to acknowledging that I saved him from trigger
happy psychos as Joshua was going to get.
“My dad always said I had a knack for business. I think he was
bummed I didn’t want to go for an MBA like he did. I guess it wouldn’t
matter now.”
“You would’ve been bored.” He knew me better than I thought he
did.
“What was in that bag, anyway?” Based on his reaction today, I
almost didn’t want to know. What if it was a cat head or something equally
creepy?
Shadows shaped his anger into a terrifying expression. When he
said, “lace panties,” I burst out laughing. That was what had him fuming?
Joshua didn’t laugh. If anything, his features hardened even more. “Nothing
funny about what he did today.”
“I don’t understand why it makes you so angry.” I swirled my glass
around, watching the firelight warp in the reflection. “It’s just underwear.”
“It’s not. He was insulting you.”
“By assuming I’m your ‘woman,’ the same way everyone else
does?” I made air quotes.
Whatever words Joshua wanted to say, he chewed them back down.
God, I was so sick of not getting answers from him.
“Joshua? Don’t ignore me.” I demanded.
“He was calling you a whore!” He blurted.
 My cheeks heated, the drink pooling uncomfortably in my stomach.
“He—what?”
“I told you he was insulting you. Wheeler likes to rile people up.”
He leaned forward in his chair, rubbing his face aggressively then wincing.
“I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”
“I don’t think I want to either.”
He flopped back into the chair, eager to change the topic. “Why
were you going to school if not for business?”
“I was going because my parents gave me money, put my stuff in a
box, and said ‘see ya, kid!’” I snorted. “Isn’t that why most people go to
college?”
“No.”
“I was kidding.”
“No, you weren’t.” Joshua shook his head, the last of his drink
gliding down his throat with ease. “You didn’t want to go?”
“I didn’t not want to.”
“But?”
“I didn’t want to go for any of the degrees my parents wanted me to
get. They were practical and maybe wiser than me but why waste my life in
marketing if it’s not what I want? I craved satisfaction, not success. I mean,
maybe I could have had both. It didn’t really feel that way at the time.”
“What did you want?”
“And you say I ask a lot of questions.” My lips teased the edge of
the glass, preparing myself for another shuddering sip. “You’re going to
think it’s dumb. I didn’t exactly want to do something useful.”
His brows formed an expectant line. “Will I?”
“I wanted to be an interior decorator.” I waited for his mocking
noise. There wasn’t one. Instead he went silent for so long that I started to
worry I’d said something wrong. “Joshua?”
“Hmm?”
“See? I knew it! You think it’s stupid.”
“No.” He disagreed sharply.
“That’s why you stopped talking.”
“Obviously someone has a use for it if it exists.”
“Wow, you’re really trying, aren’t you?” That was new. “I would
have wanted to do it whether or not anyone else thought it was a good idea.
But what does it matter now? I’m a farmer in training. That’s my career of
choice.”
A derisive sound reverberated in his throat. “Hardly a career.”
“What else am I going to do with myself?”
Joshua stiffened. “World won’t be this way forever. You’ll have
plenty of opportunities for a good life.”
“Don’t you think this life is good?” That question didn’t make him
relax at all. His jaw worked, hard muscles swelling under inky sideburns.
“Do you?”
“Yeah, totally. My glass is full.” I said, finishing the last of my drink
with a smirk.
“Your glass is empty.” He replied dryly, his tension leaving as
quickly as it came.
I wrinkled my nose. “My metaphorical glass, silly.”
He finally let that little twitch of a smile curve his lips unrestrained.
“Nothing discourages you.”
“Plenty of things discourage me. I was discouraged when Firefly
was cancelled.”
“It doesn’t count if it has to do with television.”
I waggled my pointer finger at him. “You’re just grumpy because
you never got to watch Dexter.”
“Dexter?”
“The one about the serial killer, remember?”
“Right. I’m heartbroken I missed that. So many hours wasted
reading books and working in the sun when I could have been watching
movies about robots with feelings.”
My laughter sent the blanket sliding off my lap. Today was an
uncomfortable reminder of how fragile life and safety were after the
blackout, but it was hard to remember any of that now that we were home.
Funny how quickly a stranger’s house could feel like home to me.
Even funnier how that stranger didn’t feel very strange to me
anymore.
Was it the house that felt like home, or was it Joshua?

[Link]
 22
Optimist
Joshua
Joshua glanced at the chair across from his, watching carefully as
Liv’s sleeping form moved with every breath. He knew he should wake her.
The last time she fell asleep in that chair she woke the next morning
complaining. The problem with waking her was that it required touching
her.
What used to be innocuous and sometimes necessary was now
increasingly dangerous—dangerous because he liked it more than he
should. Not the kind of thing he needed to get accustomed to. The safest
route was to avoid it altogether.
He repeated her name, increasing his volume until he was
practically shouting. “Livvy!”
She stirred a little, shifting in the chair, but didn’t wake. Joshua
crept across the room. Her slender fingers were still wrapped tight around
her empty glass. He couldn’t easily free it without skin contact.
With a heavy sigh he pinched the edge of the glass and slid it out of
her hand. Leaning over the sink, he contemplated his excuse for not waking
her. The floor creaked behind him and he whirled, almost shattering a glass
as he did.
“Oh, sorry.” Liv apologized hoarsely. “I thought you heard me get
up.”
“No.” Despite his brusque response she offered him a sleepy smile.
“Thanks for the drink.” She trudged over to the bed, rubbing her
eyes and covering a yawn.
“You—” That was the only word he got out before snipping the
sentence off.
“Hmm?”
“Ugh.”
“Words, Joshua. I don’t speak caveman, remember?” She turned to
face him, deftly twirling her hair into a ball atop her head.
 “You did good.”
“I know you haven’t seen any of the Rocky movies and even if you
had, I wouldn’t understand why you would be quoting one in the middle of
the night.”
“Today.” Joshua frowned at her. Why did she always make this so
hard?
“Um, when?”
He stifled a frustrated noise. “When you stopped me. With Wheeler.
You shouldn’t have put yourself in the middle of that but it was good that
you stopped me.”
Her words were barely a whisper, eyes dipping to her toes. “You
were going to get yourself killed.”
“Doesn’t matter. Don’t do it again.” Before she could argue with
him, he said, “Things with Wheeler are going to get worse.”
“So, you just like, have to punch him?” She finished tightening the
tie around her bun and scuffled back into the kitchen. The loosely wound
hair flopped back and forth on top of her head. When her clumsy hand met
the back of one of the dining room chairs, she stopped and fixed her
attention on him. He was looking at her fingers, not her face, but he could
feel her eyes on his.
Liv was a very direct person. Joshua found it hard to make eye
contact with her. Generally, he only met another person’s eyes in challenge
or defiance so when she looked at him with that gentle expression, he
avoided it. But he was getting better at directness every day and he
successfully let his gaze flick to hers a few times. That was when he noticed
her focus on his left eye, probably black from the blow he took earlier.
“Maybe I’ll have to do worse than punch him.”
She looked like she wanted to cry again. “They have guns.”
“I have guns.”
“We can ignore him.”
“For now.”
Liv’s voice cracked when she said, “You could get hurt.”
Ah, so that was why she was upset. “You’ll find someone to take
care of you if something happens to me.”
Okay, apparently that wasn’t why she was upset. Her jaw dropped
and she glared at him so hotly that his face felt warm. “I’m not worried
about who’s going to take care of me, Joshua.” She bit out every word. “I’m
worried about you.” He could have sworn he heard her mutter “doofus” at
the end of that sentence.
She’s worried about me? Oh. Damn. Well that explained a thing or
two.
“Is that why you’re crying?”
“Duh!” She angrily wiped under her eyes. Joshua was suddenly
frustrated by the table separating them. He couldn’t move closer to her
without being obvious about it. “Look at you! Your eye is the color of an
eggplant. They could have hurt you, Joshua. Really hurt you.”
The slight tremble of her bottom lip shot an uncomfortable pain
through his heart. Though he desperately wanted to look away and avoid
the sight of her tears, he couldn’t. He was totally transfixed by the genuine
fear on her face. Fear for him. Why did she care so much if he got hurt? As
long as she was in town, she could seek out Flores and the militia could get
her settled there. It wasn’t the safest option for her but it would protect her
from Wheeler, for a time.
“I’m fine.” Joshua wanted to slap himself for such a stupid response.
He didn’t know what else to say.
Unlike him, Liv had no qualms about coming around the table to get
closer to him. She ignored his last statement and the way he flinched away
from her hand when she reached out for his face. Her thumb barely touched
the skin under his eye as she traced his bruise. Her fingers dropped from his
eye to his chin. His hand shot up to grip her wrist when she tried to lower it,
her pulse thrumming beneath his thumb.
Everywhere she touched tingled warmly. He wasn’t ready for her to
stop. Not yet.
But he couldn’t read the way her eyes widened or the parting of her
lips. Was he crossing a line? Could she touch him but not the other way
around? Did he scare her? Was he being too rough? The insecurities swirled
into a frenzy of questions, forcing him to release her, his fingers flexing in
protest.
“What’s going to happen with Wheeler?” She asked softly, saving
him from floundering in his own head.
Joshua gritted his teeth. “He wants the farm. You know that part. He
wants the town too. That’s what he meant when he said I won’t always have
the upper hand. He’s got a lot of men these days and if they could take the
militia, they might. Flores is an ally but I don’t know how long he’ll be
around.”
“If Wheeler has so much manpower, why doesn’t he just come after
the farm? It’s a lot of land to cover but they could find it eventually,
couldn’t they?”
“Eventually. They don’t have time for eventually right now. A lot of
men need a lot of food. And winter means they’ll need shelter too. Next
year is when it’ll get interesting. We’ve got to be on our toes.” He
explained.
“But he won’t leave you alone.”
No, he wouldn’t, especially not now that Joshua revealed his soft
spot. Wheeler was looking for leverage today and he found it. Fuck, Joshua
was so stupid. He should have seen what was happening. His mistake put
Liv in an even more dangerous position than she was already in.
Punching Wheeler was deserved and a long time coming, but it was
a rookie move. Now it was obvious that Liv was more than an arrangement,
as Wheeler put it. Joshua hated the idea of letting such a degrading image of
her be the one people saw but it was probably safer for her that way.
Or maybe it wasn’t. Not if it gave men like the kind Wheeler
associated with the wrong impression. It was hard to know the right way to
handle their relationship. She complicated everything.
“He’s not going to stop now. He’s getting desperate. He wants men
who can bolster his winter stores. And he wants men who are well armed
and well trained.”
“He was serious about you guys being a dream team?”
“If I’d follow his rules, yeah. He knows Pops gave me some tactical
training. He might even know what I’ve got hidden away in the cellar.” Just
thinking about that had him seething all over again. If Wheeler was telling
the truth about Helen, then he knew the farm was a treasure trove for a
raider group.
She nodded, covering a yawn. He shouldn’t have started this
conversation now. Liv would have questions and wouldn’t go to bed until
they were answered. “If he had something you wanted, would you have
joined him?”
“Never. Even if my Pops didn’t hate his guts. I don’t want
anything.” That made Liv laugh, probably because she didn’t believe it for a
second. She had a delicate tinkle of a laugh but somehow it managed to
carry across the cabin and fill the whole space with warmth.
“Well good, I don’t have to get you a Christmas gift then.” The
smile slipped from her lips as her countenance shifted.
“I won’t let Wheeler dictate what I do.” He ran fingers through his
beard to compose himself and added. “Or what you do.”
Joshua met her eyes. Liv was smiling again and he wasn’t entirely
sure why but he was pleased to have earned that smile. It meant he’d done
or said something right, finally. She started to ask another question but her
words were lost in a yawn.
“Go to bed.”
“But I want to know our plan. What do we do if Tommy takes the
town?”
Our plan? What do we do? He did his best to ignore the way that
made him feel but he couldn’t stop hearing her words from earlier. Your
problems are my problems now.
“It’s not happening tonight. We can worry about it later.”
I can worry about it later. You don’t have to worry about it at all.
Liv turned and took a few steps toward the bed, then paused. “Do
you think people like Wheeler will ever get better? Or did they just break
when the world ended? There are still good people, but what if that’s not
enough to make the world good again?”
“Folks like Wheeler were always broken. They just couldn’t do
much damage when there was enough authority to keep ‘em in check.” He
replied. “Maybe the world was never that good.”
“I think you’re wrong, Joshua. The world was always good. Well, I
guess there was bad but I think the world always had more good.” She
hesitated. “Or maybe I’m the one that’s wrong. Maybe I just wanted to see
good.” Liv shrugged her shoulders in subtle defeat, finishing her journey to
the bed. Joshua was disappointed in his answer. It didn’t seem to be what
she wanted to hear. He wasn’t in the habit of telling people what they
wanted to hear but he could make an exception for her, couldn’t he?
“If you’re looking for good, I reckon you’ll find it.”
As she slipped under the covers, she said “I knew you weren’t as
pessimistic as you pretend to be.”
Only when it comes to you.
[Link]
 23
Stolen Moments

“Joshua, I can’t.” I squeezed my eyes shut so hard I saw stars.

“You can.”
“I really can’t.”
“Put your damn finger on the trigger, Olivia.” Ooh, I was Olivia.
Joshua was really getting impatient with me now. I warned him this
wouldn’t go well.
After his brawl with Tommy Wheeler, he was adamant that I finally get
those shooting lessons he kept promising. If something happened in town, I
needed to know how to protect myself. Not a pleasant thought. It implied
that Joshua would be injured. Or worse.
I readjusted my grip on the handgun and cracked my lids to peek at
him. “I’m scared.”
Joshua stomped over to me, his palm engulfing my hands as he
readjusted my hold. He used his free hand to pry my curled pointer finger
open and slip it onto the trigger. Then he moved it to my shoulder, bracing
me for the kickback. “Squeeze slowly, feel for the click. Just like we talked
about.”
“Okay.” I exhaled a shaky breath, letting the warmth of Joshua’s
skin soothe my nerves.
“Liv—” Whatever admonishment he was about to give me was cut
off by the loud crack of the Glock. I tried to remove my finger from the
trigger and let go but he held firm, keeping me in place. “Good. Again.”
“Joshua,”
“No whining. Do it again.”
I squeezed the trigger. My whole upper body jolted back into
Joshua’s chest. He removed his hand from beneath mine and put both on
my shoulders, urging me to continue. This time I actually aimed the way he
showed me. I didn’t hit anything. Even when I’d used every bullet in the
gun, I didn’t hit anything.
“What’s the point of this? I couldn’t hit someone if they were
standing five feet in front of me. I’m just wasting your bullets.” I set the
gun on the wooden table beside me and wiped clammy palms on my jeans.
“Your aim is never going to get better if you don’t practice.” Joshua
stepped around me and opened up a box of ammo. “Reload.”
I wanted to complain about how hard it was to shove the bullets in
the stupid magazine but I was already on Joshua’s last nerve and not eager
to push it. Halfway through my failed attempt with bullet number one, he
took the magazine from me and demonstrated how to do it. Again. It wasn’t
that I hadn’t been paying attention. It was difficult. All of this was hard and
it made me feel nervous and I didn’t want to do it.
“We’re not going in until you hit something, so don’t even start.” He
said, reading my thoughts and cutting me off before I had a chance to try
talking my way out of this for the five hundredth time.
“It’ll be dark before then.”
Joshua clenched and unclenched his jaw. For how frustrated he was,
he was doing a remarkably good job of keeping his tone even. “It won’t be
if you get your skinny ass over here and aim that gun.”
“Will I be excused if I shoot myself in the foot?” I asked sweetly as
I took the gun and fiddled with my hand positioning.
“No.” He was behind me again, wrapping his arms around mine to
fix my hold.
Maybe shooting lessons weren’t all bad. Joshua’s hands were on
mine, his arms draped easily over my shoulders as if this was our normal
and he didn’t act like he’d been electrocuted every time I touched him. He
stood so close that I could feel his breath ruffling my hair. I was tempted to
keep sucking at shooting so he would keep holding me.
These are the kinds of thoughts that end in heartbreak. My heart
wasn’t keen on heeding my head’s warning. The war between the two was
one as old as time and much to my dismay, my head was losing.
Of course, what I felt was only a teeny tiny, itty bitty crush. The
stupid kind that made butterflies take flight in my stomach when he was
close to me, even though we’d spent weeks standing close to each other
before. Nothing more. Nothing serious. Didn’t a girl have the right to
entertain a crush in the end of the world?
How could I not when every day I saw flashes of a man much
kinder and more understanding than who he pretended to be? Glimpses of
someone who was hurt when he was vulnerable, someone that lost his way
because of it.
 Anyway, it didn’t matter how I felt because it would amount to
nothing. It wasn’t as if Joshua was going to reciprocate those feelings. Was
he even capable? He probably viewed it as too frivolous. Emotions were
useless, after all.
As far as I was concerned, that made my infatuation perfectly
innocent. I’d grown to enjoy his company. And yeah, he was attractive. I
didn’t normally go for tall and muscly but Joshua wasn’t a gym rat. He was
just strong enough to do the things he had to, like chop wood and work the
land. He had a nice butt too.
Sure, I noticed. I noticed a few times. It was hard not to notice a guy
when you shared six hundred square feet of shack with him. Not much
room to avoid him.
“You remember how to aim?”
“Yup.” I swallowed dryly.
“Keep your eyes open. Don’t you drop that damn gun after you pull
the trigger.” His hands retreated, one of them taking place on my shoulder
to help with recoil.
“Got it. Eyes open, no dropping.” I exhaled slowly, centered my
feet, and aimed.
I went through another magazine without hitting anything. The sun was
already behind the trees and the evening was quickly growing dim. I was
hungry and grumpy and Joshua wasn’t far behind. Stubborn as he was, he
wouldn’t let hunger or a bad mood break his rule. No going inside until I hit
something.
Fine. It was going to be a long night for both of us.
Or so I thought until I carefully aimed on my next try and
successfully hit the wooden target directly in front of me. Then I felt like I
was the one taking the bullet, haphazardly dropping the gun on the table
and doubling over with a familiar sensation of panic.
My head swam with images of all the ways I’d seen people die.
Bullets weren’t such a bad way to go compared to machetes and fists, but
they still killed people. Innocent, helpless people. People that just wanted to
survive. The stutter in my heart quickly became a tremble in my hands and I
couldn’t get away from the sight of that target fast enough.
I wrenched the noise-cancelling earmuffs from my head and whirled
out of Joshua’s reach, unable to hear whatever praise was coming from his
mouth. Tears stung my eyes, making twin waterfalls of my face before I
could stop them. I gave Joshua my back, hugging myself and desperately
trying to catch my breath.
If I was aiming that gun when I truly needed to use it, I wouldn’t be
shooting at wood and aluminum. I would be shooting at another person.
“Where are you going?” Joshua boomed when I scurried away from
him. “What the hell are you doing?”
“I need a minute.” I managed to gasp out. “Please, just give me a
minute.”
Of course, he didn’t.
Joshua stalked after me, cutting off my retreat and standing so close
that I was eye level with his chest. I braced myself for the inevitable
“what’s wrong with you?” It didn’t come. He just stared, helpless. That
wasn’t much better. I had no interest in being a spectacle right now.
“What’s going on?” His voice was surprisingly gentle.
I covered my face with my hands, muffling the words, “I can’t.”
“You can’t what? You hit the target. What’s the problem?”
I risked a glance up at him. “I can’t shoot someone, Joshua.”
“You might have to.” Not exactly comforting but I didn’t expect him to
comfort me. “I need you to know how to do this, Liv.”
“I couldn’t live with myself. I—” I choked back a sob. “I hate this. I
hate this world. I hate how we have to live. I hate the idea of hurting
someone.”
He stood over me through every one of my halting breaths, scowling
and uncertain. I had to resist the urge to reach out for him. I wished he
would just hug me like a normal person. I needed some way to distance
myself from this…whatever it was. Another anxiety attack? Did I have
PTSD? How would I know? How would I fix it? A hug really felt like it
would fix it.
“I didn’t yell at you.” Joshua finally spoke. I gave him a teary, stupid
look, clearly not following. “You still going to make me that casserole?”
Was he really thinking about food right now? I did promise to make
dinner if he promised not to get snippy during our shooting lesson. He must
have been really excited about that chicken-whatever casserole because he
was unusually patient today.
“Got some blackberry wine in the cellar. Back of the shelf where I keep
the canned fruit, to the right. Go grab it. I’ll get this cleaned up.” So, this
was how he was going to react? Joshua was just going to ignore my
feelings.
I harrumphed to myself, deliberately stomping up the porch steps.
By the time I climbed off the last ladder rung in the cellar, I was barely
sniffling. I pulled what I hoped was the right bottle of wine—Joshua didn’t
label any of his homemade alcohol concoctions—off the shelf, realizing
that perhaps he wasn’t being as insensitive as I assumed.
Joshua wasn’t the nurturing type. He wouldn’t coddle me when I
was upset. Since he didn’t know how to fix the problem, he did the next
best thing; averted my attention. I actually enjoyed making dinner and he
rarely ceded control of the kitchen enough to let me cook any dish on my
own. I’d begged him to let me try this recipe even though he only had a few
chicken breasts to spare.
Once again, he was being nice. Gentle in his own unusual way. Aw
shoot, why did he have to be nice to me? It wasn’t going to help the whole
catching feelings thing one bit.
We didn’t talk much over dinner. Joshua seemed to be lost in his
thoughts, sipping wine more often than he took a bite of food. I wasn’t
much better, though I barely touched the wine. It was clearly one of those
acquired tastes. By the time we were clearing the table, I felt exhausted in a
way that had nothing to do with any work I’d done today. My heart was
heavy and my whole person felt shaky. I just wanted to curl up under a
blanket and stay there indefinitely.
Joshua didn’t say anything when I quietly retreated to the bed and
pulled the quilt all the way up to my cheek.
Joshua
Joshua was sick of feeling guilty. How the hell was he supposed to
know shooting a gun would give Liv a meltdown? And why the hell did he
feel so bad about it? The whole thing was a mess. He had no clue how he
could have done it differently but he needed to figure it out because
she had to know how to shoot. Leaving her unprotected and unable to
defend herself was not an option. Not after what happened in town.
Liv understood the basics of gun safety but had clearly never
actually held one before. Her form was terrible, which left him needing to
correct her.
Forced him to touch her.
 There had to be a more hands off way to instruct her. Normally
Joshua would never let someone in his personal space like that and for good
reason. It made him notice weird details about Liv that shouldn’t matter to
him. Like how her hair smelled faintly of strawberries. Or how she fit
between his arms. He was noticing those types of things a little too often
lately.
Even worse, Joshua kept catching himself making excuses. He was
not the type of man to make excuses and yet he did exactly that this
evening. Shooting instructions were supposed to be about equipping Liv to
be a safe companion to keep by his side. He couldn’t protect her twenty
four-seven.
Of course, shooting instructions also gave him justification for all of the
ways he wanted to touch her. The perfect out for his behavior.
It was only curiosity that made him do it, he insisted quietly to
himself. Curiosity about what, he wasn’t sure. How Liv’s hair smelled?
How her hands felt in his? Those were not the types of thoughts he’d ever
given himself permission to think about a woman. It was a waste of time
and it would lead him to nothing good.
Liv suddenly made a startled noise from the corner where the bed
was shrouded in shadows. Joshua tilted his head, listening for what he knew
was the sound of a nightmare. She had them less frequently than she used to
but given her dramatic reaction to something as simple as firing a gun, it
was safe to assume he’d dredged up a memory that was best kept untouched
in her mind. Cue the second round of guilt.
There shouldn’t be any guilt. He wasn’t happy that he’d upset her
but it had to be done. The world was ending and life wasn’t going to get any
easier from here on out. Sooner or later Liv was going to see or hear
something that set her off. She’d have to be able to deal with it or risk
freezing up in a situation that required action. Better for her to face that
now, with him, than when someone was trying to hurt her. At least with
Joshua she would be safe.
The noises from the bed stopped abruptly. Sheets rustled as Liv sat
up. Joshua quickly averted his eyes, pretending that he hadn’t been
watching her toss and turn in her sleep. After a stretch of quiet, he heard her
feet shuffling along the wood floor. She stepped over to his chair and slid
down to the rug without a word. Her back rested against one of the arms,
her shoulder lightly leaned into his thigh. Though the room was dim as the
fire died down, he could easily see how violently she was shaking.
When she didn’t speak or move for more than five minutes, Joshua
leaned forward in his chair and whispered “Liv?” It always disturbed him
when she got quiet.
“I’m just cold.” She rushed out. Her tremulous tone said otherwise.
“Right.”
Joshua waited a beat before climbing from his chair to kneel in front
of the fire. He added two more logs, stoking the flames until they were
blazing and bright. Then he settled on the floor next to Liv, adjusting his
position so he could sit shoulder to shoulder with her—or as close as
possible with their height difference. She didn’t even look up at him. Her
gaze fixed on a spot on the floor, unfocused as she replayed whatever
images were haunting her.
Desperate to bring her back to the present, Joshua reached for her
hands. She blinked confused green eyes at him but didn’t stop him. Joshua
cupped his palms around hers, brought them to his lips, and blew hot breath
onto her fingers. They really were freezing. He traded off between blowing
on them and using his thumbs to rub the pressure points between her fingers
and wrists. The barest smile touched her lips and she scooted close enough
that their hips touched. He didn’t let her go, even when she stopped
shaking.
“Better?” He asked softly.
She nodded, her smile widening a fraction. “Much better.”
They sat in silence until the fire had almost completely devoured the
bottom log, her hands a notable weight in his lap, head slowly easing onto
his shoulder. It felt…comfortable. It felt normal, which was strange because
this was so far outside of what was normal for him.
“How come you’re so good at that?” Her quiet question startled
him.
“Good at what?”
“Making the panic go away.”
Joshua stilled, his tongue paralyzed. He debated with himself until
the silence felt awkward, finally blurting “I used to have them. Panic
attacks, I mean.”
“Really?” She was incredulous. “I can’t imagine you being afraid of
anything.”
 “Plenty of things scared me when I was younger.” And John was at
the center of all of them.
“What made you panic?”
“The dark.”
“Because you have no lights in your house?” Liv lifted her head
from his shoulder, her eyes jumping back and forth between his.
“Because I was alone in the dark. Sometimes for twenty four hours.”
Sometimes longer if John was feeling particularly vindictive. As a boy
Joshua paid for his own sins and those of both his parents.
“What? Why?”
“Punishment.” His throat worked. Why the fuck was he telling her
this? Why was he willingly giving her memories that he himself couldn’t
even stomach?
Joshua forced himself to look at her, expecting pity on her sweet
face. What he got instead was fire. “I think I hate your father.” Her brow
creased, lips pinched into an angry line.
It felt like the wrong time to smile but he couldn’t hold it in. She
was so unpredictable. “You’ve never met him.”
“Yes, and I’m glad. He sounds cruel. I can’t believe anyone would
compare you to him.” She slipped her bottom lip between her teeth, softly
adding “Sorry. Only a little, but I am.”
I can’t believe anyone would compare you to him. Did she know
what she was saying? What it meant to hear that, albeit from someone who
didn’t actually know John?
Since Liv arrived more than three months earlier, Joshua had been in
an almost constant state of frustration because she made him feel like John.
The way she cowered away from him in the beginning, the way he made
her cry with his inability to be gentle, to be understanding. He’d seen that
image before, a sweet, frail woman sitting on the edge of that same bed,
shoulders shaking with silent tears. He’d done that to her the way his father
did it to Helen all those years ago.
Not on purpose. Never on purpose. For reasons he couldn’t explain,
Joshua made an effort for her. He tried to be better, to be just a little softer,
he really did. Problem was, he did it terribly. The first thing in years that he
wasn’t good at. He hated it. Joshua didn’t fail. Not at anything but this.
For once, his failure didn’t matter. He wouldn’t be punished for it,
ridiculed, or even pitied. Liv saw that he tried and that was enough for her.
It made him feel like he was enough.
I can’t believe anyone would compare you to him.
Eventually he caught Liv in a glance, ready to ask her if she thought
she should go back to sleep. Morning would come too soon and they would
both be exhausted. She was way ahead of him, her eyes closed, lips parted
to release soft breaths.
“Liv?” He whispered.
He wiggled his arm away from her head, hoping the movement
would wake her. All it did was pin it awkwardly between them. He rested it
on his thigh, then raised it over his head with the intention of setting it on
the chair, then was finally going to give up and shake Liv awake when she
shifted on her own. It was like she became a liquid, melting atop him. Her
hips swiveled to drop her thigh over his, her arms constricting around his
ribs. The movement rocked her head forward until it was nestled into his
chest, the tip of her nose teasing his collar bone.
She certainly wasn’t cold now. Even through his shirt, he could feel
the searing heat of her palm on his stomach. Her breath was warm in the
crook of his neck. A heady rush tickled up his body, an electric current
jolting through him. Liv was like moonshine, burning and soothing all at
once. She heated him, intoxicated him, swirled his mind until clarity was a
distant memory. She was thrilling and she was dangerous, the most
dangerous thing under the small roof of his cabin.
That comfortable feeling evaporated, leaving him in a sudden state
of panic. Joshua desperately needed to get away from her, to find some
balance again.
Only, he couldn’t get himself to move. Not when she stirred,
rearranging herself for a third time, brushing her nose along his collar bone
and murmuring his name in the softest sigh. Something inside of him broke
at that sound, something that had been teetering on the edge for months.
Was it his willpower? The wall that kept him safely isolated and his
emotions in check?
Joshua warred with himself. He needed to send Liv to bed, to put
space between them. That safe five feet of space he was always working so
hard to keep. That space he shattered today with the excuse of teaching her
how to protect herself.
That was only half his motivation for shooting lessons. He was
being selfish. Secretly, quietly selfish. He was doing it again right now.
Every second that he sat there holding Liv, refusing to let her go even
though his sanity and all of their established normalcy depended on it, he
was being selfish.
And? When in his life had he ever allowed himself anything? When
did he ever get to be selfish if not now, when it felt so important?
Joshua sank further against his chair, settling his arm over Liv and
resting his hand on the small of her back. With every minute that ticked by
he expected her to shoot awake, accusation and confusion marring her pale
face. His thoughts felt so loud and clumsy that he feared they would wake
her. They didn’t. Nothing did. Liv stayed right where she was, comfortably
tucked against him.
Comfortable. Such an unfamiliar sensation. It wasn’t at all what
he’d anticipated intimacy to be like. Quite the opposite, actually.
Discomfort was almost always what he got from touch. He hadn’t been
hardened off to affection like everyone else. Then again, he’d never really
tried touching anyone like this, tenderly. He’d never let anyone close
enough for it.
Joshua felt the gentle rise and fall of Liv’s chest on his and for one
breath let himself admit that he was enjoying this. That he wanted it,
wanted to close that manufactured distance between them. Those thoughts
were shuttered before they had a chance to become substantial. Just because
he was interested didn’t mean Liv would be. She’d made it clear what she
thought of his character—cruel, insensitive, and too rough—and being nice
to him didn’t mean those opinions had changed.
Liv was nice to everyone.
There wasn’t really much he could give her, anyway. Joshua was
good for taking care of her most basic needs but not her emotional ones. Liv
liked sweet words and kind gestures. He could do neither on purpose.
Joshua wasn’t built for stolen moments in the dead of night. He didn’t
deserve them. Maybe he helped Liv when she needed it most but beyond
that, he wasn’t a good person. Not like what she wanted him to be.
And why should he change simply to be what she wanted? If he
wasn’t enough as he was, it didn’t matter. There was no use even pursuing
that quiet craving. Not if it was destined for failure. Joshua could live with
unfulfilled desires. That was nothing new for him.
What about this, though? Had she not sought him out? To soothe the
fear of nightmares? Sure, in a moment of terror, in the middle of the night,
when she was sleep-dazed and adrenalized all at once. Liv was accustomed
to tactile interaction, regular affection from people that she trusted. This
was an instinctive response to a deficit of physical contact. In sleep she
wasn’t conscious of her actions or who it was that she wrapped her body
around.
But she said my name.
Sleep was as intoxicating as alcohol. If he was going to discount her
kiss that night she had her first drink, he would have to discount this too.
That didn’t mean it had to end just yet. Liv was curled in his lap,
palm resting over his heart as if this was always how she slept. An odd
wispy sensation flickered inside of him, one he almost dared call
satisfaction.
“What the hell are you doin’, boy?” Joshua squeezed his eyes shut.
His father’s words were not welcome in his head, yet he rarely succeeded in
pushing them out. As the hour grew late and the fire dimmed, he would
hear that hoarse, alcohol-laden voice echo as if he was still in that adjacent
chair. Pops was dead though and there was someone very much unlike him
sitting with Joshua now.
Liv’s breath breezed in that steady rhythm Joshua had grown
accustomed to hearing in the quiet hours of darkness. Her face was veiled
by a curtain of amber blonde hair but he knew that her eyes were closed. He
could just barely see the dip of her brow as she frowned at something in her
dreams. Some nights she looked so serious when she slept. Not that he was
in the habit of watching her sleep. Then again, how often did one have to do
something for it to be considered a habit?
What the hell am I doing?
Joshua had asked himself that question too many times to count over
the last three months. Even as he carried her back to his home on that very
first day, the question was playing on repeat in his mind until it nearly drove
him mad. He didn’t know what he was doing or why.
That would have made his father furious. Pops was careful to teach
him not to be impulsive. “Impulsive gets you killed. You better think before
you act, boy. Every move could be your last when you’re surviving.”
Pops never was very good at living his own lessons though. John Sutton
only possessed a modicum of prudence and that was when he was sober. If
he’d been in the bottle, anything was possible. The man was cruel at his
best, downright evil at his worst.
 Folks might not see it, but father and son had their differences. Pops
would have left Liv to die. Learning that Joshua didn’t would make him
livid.
I can’t believe anyone would compare you to him. She saw it.

Just because he wasn’t his father didn’t mean there weren’t

remnants of him embedded deep in Joshua’s psyche. He remembered
looking down at her prone form in his arms, analyzing her objectively, the
way he’d been taught.
No, he was being more than objective. It was a brief moment of
weakness, the kind that could have been lethal. Joshua stared at her thin,
dirty face and he saw redemption. The men he killed to save her weren’t the
first lives he took. They might not be the last. Doing what it took to survive
came with a price, the kind that weighed heavily on a soul.
It wasn’t quite guilt that Joshua felt. Rather it was the absence of
guilt that kept him awake most nights. What reason did he have to feel
guilty if he was defending himself? He knew he should, though. The
minuscule part of himself that was still that young boy, raised obedient and
devout, felt like God was judging him.
Then out of nowhere came Liv, asking for his help when everyone
else shunned him or tried to take from him. She was innocent, maybe the
very last innocent person left. He saw her as an opportunity to do something
good, to balance the scales and pay for his sins.
Liv was one life in exchange for many others but she deserved to
live. The world would have been a worse place without her.
But she was so weak and defenseless. Useful for only two purposes,
John would say. If she couldn’t survive on her own, then she didn’t deserve
to live. She would only be a burden. That word lingered in Joshua’s
thoughts during those first weeks with her. It was because of his father that
Joshua treated her as one. That was how John taught him to care for others.
What did it matter to him if he had a burden on his shoulders
though? Survival was already a burden. Joshua had nothing to lose.
There wasn’t a good explanation for the way he treated her during
that first month, other than the persistent poison that was John’s influence
still filling his veins. It wasn’t fair to blame it all on that. Joshua was mean
and suspicious simply because she made him uncomfortable. That had to be
a reason not to trust someone, right?
 That confusing weightless feeling in his chest was instinct telling
him to be wary. Joshua trusted his instincts. Only now, he was realizing
he’d thoroughly misinterpreted them. It wasn’t because she was after
anything of his that Liv made him nervous.
It should have been obvious when it bothered him that he made her
nervous too.
Then again, he made everyone nervous. He always had. As a boy,
long before he grew to be unusually tall and unapproachable, people
disliked him. Some of it was his father’s reputation, but the other children
saw it too. Joshua was different in some indefinable way. It must have
carried on his scent. It made people avoid eye contact and hurry past him,
like he was a predator that might decide he was hungry.
That was the real reason he was alone. And that was the reason he
was alive.
Until Liv, that had been fine. Being intimidating was important to
his survival. But it started to rankle when he made her shy away from him.
Joshua viewed Liv differently than most people, maybe because he knew
she wasn’t capable of doing him any real harm. He didn’t need to be liked
by her but he wasn’t keen on being disliked by her either. He didn’t want
her to see him as other, though he knew he was.
Joshua hadn’t been made like normal people and when he was with
Liv, it showed.
Just then, it didn’t matter. In the light of morning she might shrink
away from the memory or her hands in his but here, in the perpetual
darkness, there were no barriers left between them.
A little longer. He told himself. A little more time in this moment
that he wasn’t supposed to have. A truly stolen moment, taken from an
alternate world where Joshua hadn’t been raised to be cold and empty,
where Liv didn’t long for a clamorous city street and bright lights. For
people.
Just a little longer. He rested his chin on top of her head and closed
his eyes.

[Link]
 24
Cold and Confused

The moment I had the urge to open my eyes, I knew I wasn’t in bed.
I shouldn’t have been surprised. Not long after falling asleep I was tossing
and turning, haunted by some terrible nightmare I couldn’t shake. The worst
part about nightmares was closing my eyes and falling right back into them,
which was why I decided to stay awake rather than lying there and hoping it
passed.
I expected to sit up from a heap on the rug in front of the hearth or
find myself crammed into the least-loved recliner. I expected to wake up
just about anywhere except on top of Joshua. I carefully readjusted my head
and yup, that was a muscly chest under me. My arms were hugged around
him like he was a giant, firm body pillow.
I must have woken in some alternate universe because he had his
arms around me too. His cheek was resting on my forehead and by all
appearances, he was asleep. I’d never actually seen Joshua sleep but I knew
he had to at some point. No matter what he claimed, no one was awake
forever.
In sleep he was uncharacteristically peaceful. All that tension was
finally gone from his body, the alert and wary expression that lingered on
his face faded. I never would have thought the word cozy could apply to
Joshua but he was exactly that. Cozy and so warm beneath me. I twisted my
head to get a better look at him. He was handsome when he wasn’t
scowling.
I settled my head back onto his chest with a sigh, then immediately
jolted back to reality.
How did I end up here? As much as I wanted to just lie back down
and enjoy this, I was being pretty ridiculous. Joshua wasn’t a cuddler.
Joshua wasn’t a toucher. He didn’t even like shaking hands, so why in the
world would he suddenly be okay with me sleeping in his lap? Did I
sleepwalk here? Did I get up from the floor, half asleep and confused, and
flop on top of him?
 Yeah, sure, and then Joshua, who barely slept a wink because he was
so on edge, just didn’t wake up.
I wished that I could freeze time and hold onto this moment because
I knew it might be the only one I would ever get with him, but I couldn’t. It
had to end. I had no idea what was going on but I was reasonably worried
that Joshua would wake up, find me latched onto him like a barnacle, and
freak out. Maybe he’d send me away for violating his personal space so
thoroughly.
The problem was that extricating myself from his arms and tip
toeing back to the bed would require ninja skills. I slowly—very, very
slowly—eased into an upright position. His head lolled to the side, resting
against the arm of the chair instead. When I tried to lift one of his arms
from around my hip he groaned and tightened his hold, dragging me right
back to where I started.
Any attempt to loosen his arms only made him cling to me tighter.
By the fourth try I was almost having a difficulty breathing because of how
hard he was squeezing me. This was getting ridiculous. I might as well
wake him and face the firing squad.
I sat up again, pulling against him as hard as I could. “Joshua?”
His dark eyes snapped open. In one breath he was upright, pinning
my head to his chest with one hand, and thrusting the other in front of him.
My gaze trailed down his outstretched arm to realize he was pointing
a gun at the darkness in front of us. I hadn’t expected a literal firing squad.
Where did he even pull that from?
“What are you doing?” I squirmed, trying to sit up.
Joshua’s eyes were wild, his breath coming too rapidly. He didn’t
respond, just scanned the room, his gun hand tracking his gaze.
“Joshua!” I said louder because he was gripping me too hard and it
was starting to hurt. “There’s no one here. You were asleep.”
“Fuck!” He muttered, releasing me and dragging his other arm back
to return the gun to wherever it came from. I moved with his diaphragm
when he sucked in a ragged breath.
“Are you okay?” I twisted to look at him. “Jeez, remind me never to
sneak up on you when you’re sleeping.”
Joshua’s eyes still had that deer in the headlights look. In the dim light
of the living room, with the fire casting shadows onto his face, they looked
closer to black than brown. He frowned at me, then at his hand which was
loosely resting on the back of my neck, then back at me.
“Joshua?” I lifted a finger to touch his cheek.
Joshua practically leapt away. He shifted out from under me,
dumping me unceremoniously onto the floor and backing up until his
shoulder hit the fireplace mantle. He rubbed his palms over his tired face
and muttered another curse.
“You were cold.” He said stiffly.
“I remember.” I scooted upright and put my hands up like I was
placating a scared animal.
“You were cold and you fell asleep.” His voice was extra gruff and
now he was refusing to look at me. “I tried to wake you.”
“Okay,” I was trying to urge him to keep talking but he only dipped his
chin to his chest then gave me his back.
Joshua braced himself against the fireplace with one arm and let out
a frustrated sound. I rose from the floor, approaching him cautiously. I
thought he would be upset with me. He seemed more upset with himself.
“Are you okay?” I risked resting a gentle hand on his arm. Bad idea.
Joshua flinched away like I’d burned him. I quickly retracted my hand.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
He whirled, startling a small squeak out of me. Warm hands
travelled up my neck to cup my face, his eyes blazing in that delicious
chocolate color. So soft and vulnerable. So not like Joshua. For a hopeful
second, I thought he was going to kiss me. Then he leveled his gaze to mine
and ground out “I don’t want you to be sorry.”
I gaped at him, not sure if I should touch him back. Not sure of
anything anymore. Before gathering myself enough to respond, Joshua was
jerking away from me and stomping toward the door.
“Where are you going?” I asked as he yanked his jacket on like it
had personally offended him.
“To get firewood.” He grunted, stuffing sockless feet into his boots.
I looked between the front door and the almost full pile of firewood
by the hearth. “But you have more than enough…” my sentence trailed off
as he stormed out the door and disappeared into the night.
I stood stunned in the living room for almost two minutes. When
there was no sign that Joshua would be back anytime soon, I sank down
into his chair to wait. Kuna, who had started pacing in front of the door as
soon as Joshua left, came to rest her chin on my lap and whined softly.
I ran my fingers over the soft fur around her ears and said, “Your
guess is as good as mine.”
No matter how late it got, I wasn’t ready to go back to bed before I
had a chance to talk to Joshua. Whatever happened between us felt
significant. Until tonight, I’d never seen him look panicked before. Did I do
something wrong? Did he think he did something wrong? I wanted to know
how he felt. Was there a chance that I was totally off this whole time and
Joshua might actually feel something for me?
Without a clock it was hard to keep track of the time but at least thirty
minutes had to have ticked by without Joshua returning. The woodshed was
a four minute walk at most. Not that I believed he was actually getting
firewood. Still, I was hoping he would take whatever time he needed to cool
off then come back and talk to me. Silly, I know. Joshua clearly didn’t want
to talk about this. He was avoiding me and this conversation.
I tried to ignore the sting of that as I made my way back to bed and
wrapped myself in a quilt. For a tiny moment I thought things might be
changing between us, but as quickly as that spark ignited, Joshua snuffed it
out. I risked one more glance at the door. He was gone.
I recognized a long time ago that I would probably never understand
him, I just hadn’t realized that confusion could be painful. I could live with
it if Joshua never took an interest in me. Being his friend felt like a huge
accomplishment. I only wished that friendship with him made more sense.
One minute he was cold as ice and the next he was holding me while we
slept.
That felt like more than friends. But who was I kidding? Joshua
probably didn’t even consider me his friend.

[Link]
 25
Tortured Silence

“Wow, a few months ago you wouldn’t trust me with my own

tampons and now you’re letting me hold scissors an inch from your neck.” I
gave Joshua my best attempt at a grin, desperately trying to keep my tone
casual as I ran fingers through the front of his hair.
“Should I be worried?” He raised his eyebrows in mock alarm.
“Oh yes. This was my plan all along: spend months convincing you I’m
trustworthy enough to cut your hair so I can kill you with dull scissors and
take your stuff.”
“Those scissors aren’t dull.”
Some of my tension eased and I managed a real laugh. “Okay, don’t make
me laugh or I might actually stab you.”
“So, I should be worried.”
“Only if you care about how even your hair is in the back.”
“Lucky for you, I can’t see the back.”
Joshua was torturing me. That was the only way I could make sense of this
downright cheerful behavior from him.
Almost two weeks had passed with barely a word exchanged
between us. For a brief time, I thought I was going to go mad. The morning
after Joshua disappeared to “get firewood” and never came back, I woke to
find a note on the table that read “went hunting.” There were a few
scribbled tasks for me to look after while he was gone.
That day dragged on into a dark and empty evening. I had no concept of
how long hunting a deer would take and when the evening faded to night
with no sign of him, I began to worry. That entire night I sat awake in his
chair, watching the fire like he usually did. The next morning, I almost
screamed when I stepped out with Kuna to see Joshua approaching the
outdoor well pump with blood staining his arms and dotting his white shirt.
“Not mine.” Those were the only two words he grunted to me the entire
day.
 It continued like that. Joshua avoiding eye contact, avoiding
conversation, even avoiding sitting at the table with me to eat. He had the
excuse of being busy processing and storing meat for those firsts few days
but when more than a week passed in silence, the message he was trying to
communicate was clear; he wanted me to leave him alone and forget about
whatever happened before he left.
Then this morning, everything returned to normal. The clanging of cast
iron and the cracking of eggs went off like my alarm clock. Joshua and I
had breakfast together and he talked to me about what needed to happen to
put the garden to rest for winter. And the cherry on top? As we were
clearing the table, he casually asked me to cut his hair.
I should have been mad at him for giving me a ten day silent
treatment but I didn’t have it in me to be angry. More than anything, I felt
defeated. I’d foolishly let myself believe that there could be something
more between us. Joshua was hot and cold, short tempered and emotionally
unavailable. We just happened to be going through one of his longer heat
waves when that unexpected cold front blew in and destroyed any notion I
had of connecting with him.
It was time to let all of that go. He kept me fed and sheltered, asking
nothing in return. That alone was an amazing gift and I should be grateful.
“The second worst time I ever got grounded was when I cut my own
hair.” I reminisced aloud as I made my first snip.
“You got in trouble for cutting your hair?” He scoffed.
“I made it ugly. My mother hated ugly.”
“She called you ugly?”
“No, she called my hair ugly. I did it a week before this big dinner
party she was throwing and she was mortified. All of her friends were going
to judge her.”
“Why would she be embarrassed if your hair looked bad?”
“My bad behavior reflected poorly on her. Anyway, I tried to cut my
bangs and ended up looking like a space alien with a giant forehead. She
paid fifty bucks for her stylist to fix it and that barely helped, so she
grounded me for a month.”
“They punished you for being independent? They should have
encouraged you.” Joshua would definitely not get along with my parents. I
paused my cutting to entertain that daydream. I couldn’t even picture him
standing in the foyer of my parent’s ostentatious house. It would be
hilarious to see the way my mother’s face scrunched up as she took in
Joshua’s appearance. He was the kind of man she would call “rural” with
more than a drop of venom on her tongue.
I snickered to myself. He’d probably track mud all over her marble
floors.
“Independent? That was a bad word in my parent’s household. All
they wanted was obedient.”
“You must have been grounded a lot then.” He chuckled, actually
chuckled!
I smiled at the unexpected sound and pinched a lock of hair between
my fingers before clipping an inch off. “Nope. I rarely got in trouble.”
“Yeah, right.”
“It’s true. I was docile and well-trained.” He twisted to look back at
me. “Hey, hold still. I’ve got sharp blades pointed at your head,
remember?”
“Sounds boring.” Joshua grumbled then added, “Sounds like you’re
lying to me too because obedient is not a word I would use to describe
you.”
“Oh, come on. I do what I’m told.”
“Only after arguing about it for twenty minutes.” He accused.
I threw the accusation right back at him. “You bring that out. I don’t
argue with anyone else.”
And I never enjoyed arguing until I started doing it with you.
“So it’s my fault you’re surly?”
“I am not surly. You must be talking about yourself.” I scoffed.
“Besides, you need someone to disagree with you. I’m doing you a favor. It
wouldn’t be good for you to walk around thinking you run the world.”
I’d finished the back of his hair and moved in front of him. He
looked up at me, chocolate brown eyes fixed intently on mine. Joshua never
met my gaze, with the exception of when he was fuming. This was so
unlike him and after two weeks of apathy from him it caught me completely
off guard. The intensity in his expression gave me chills.
My lips parted for quick, shallow breaths. I couldn’t explain what
happened in that short moment but I might never forget it. Something
passed between us, some feeling or vibe or I don’t what. Joshua was so
intensely serious. There seemed to be words he was trying to say without
speaking. My thumb moved without my consent, brushing along his
cheekbone until it met the curled hair of his sideburns.
I caught myself doing it and quickly lowered my hand, staring at it
like it was a foreign object. “I’m going to miss a spot if you keep moving
your head.”
“I won’t mind.” His voice was quiet and gruff, so deep in his throat that
I had to put one ear near his mouth to hear him.
“Do you want me to trim your beard too?” I still had my eyes down
but I ran my free hand through the coarse hair on his face. I shouldn’t have.
I couldn’t stop myself. I wanted to touch him again. I wanted to feel that
strange fluttering in my chest that came only when my skin met his.
“Nah, it’s good winter insulation. Anyway, I can see that part.”
“Right.” I nodded much more rapidly than before and finished up on the
left side of his head. “Okay, let’s see you.”
I pulled each side of his hair down to make sure it was even. I
chewed my lip in concentration, snipped some more on the left, chewed
more, snipped more, and then finally set the scissors on the folding table
and clapped my hands together.
“Hey, it doesn’t look half bad.”
“Only half bad, huh?” A teasing grin curved one side of his mouth;
something I thought this man’s face wasn’t capable of making.
“You think you’re pretty funny, do you?” I crossed my arms and
stuck my tongue out at him.
“You laughed so I’d say you do too.”
“I think I did okay. Go see for yourself.” I pointed to Joshua’s old
room where he kept the full length mirror.
He shook clippings loose from his hair. “I trust you.”
“You do?” I hadn’t intended to doubt the statement out loud but I
blurted the question before I could stop myself.
“’Course.” He shrugged, as if I should have known he had
unequivocal faith in me, and yanked his shirt up over his head.
Now I was the one staring at him. He marched off the porch and into
the yard, snapping the shirt into the air to shake the hair off. I hovered in the
doorway, watched the muscles on his shoulders flex with the movement,
and did my best not to drool. I broke from my trance and busied myself
cleaning off the chair and collecting my tools before he noticed me. If I was
going to fawn over him it should at least be in secret.
 When Joshua came back up the stairs, he had his shirt slung over his
shoulder. I swallowed dryly with another glance at him from the front. The
contours of Joshua’s chest were outlined by hair as coarse and dark as the
locks that decorated his head. The patches of fuzz were like a blank
connect-the-dots puzzle, highlighting all of the places I wanted to touch and
all of the places in between that I would draw lines to with my fingertips.
Good grief, I need to find a hobby.
“Nice job, Squirrel.” Joshua said, facing the stove.
I swallowed again—apparently, he had no intention of putting his
shirt back on—and dragged the chair back into the kitchen. “Glad you
approve.”
When I made no move to serve myself lunch, he twisted to glance at
me. “You just gonna stand there?”
“Huh? No. Sorry.” I shook my head.
“Stop that.”
“Right. Not sorry.”
“Liv?” Joshua set his bowl on the table and took a half step in my
direction.
“Aren’t you cold?” I asked, failing at nonchalance.
“Is that what you’re worried about?”
Well, at least I looked worried and not—I don’t know, wanton?
“Better?” I almost jumped when I realized how close he’d gotten. I
blinked at the half-buttoned flannel, at the still visible hair between his
pecs, then up at his face. His dark brows knitted together. “Livvy?”
“Yes. Better. Sorry.” God, I was starting to sound like him.
“Stop apologizing.” He gritted out.
I forced a small chuckle and brushed past him, steeling myself so
that my fluttering heart would calm down before my cheeks flushed pink.
“Sorr—Nope. Not sorry. I guess I need to eat. My brain is all scrambled.”
Joshua tracked me with a penetrating gaze. “You sick or
somethin’?”
“Nah, just hungry. Don’t worry about me. Eat your soup before it
gets cold.”
He narrowed his eyes at me. “Fine.”
I thought I was in the clear when his palm came out of nowhere and
slapped a little too hard onto my forehead. Joshua left it there for thirty
seconds before nodding and refocusing on his monstrous serving of soup.
The smack to my head seemed to be just what I needed to snap myself out
of a muscle induced stupor. I still did my best to avoid looking at Joshua
during lunch. I was afraid that if I did, he might see whatever emotions I
was juggling in my brain. My avoidance was clearly making him suspicious
because he spent the entire meal studying me, which didn’t help matters.
How long did I plan to stay in this little shack with him? A few
months ago, my answer would have been “until he makes me leave.” But
Joshua had made it clear that I wasn’t wearing out my welcome, even when
I irritated him. Even after our weird week of silence.
What did that mean? Why did he panic so much that night by the
fire if he felt nothing that wasn’t platonic? Was I reading too much into it?
I needed to know.
I needed to know because I was coming to recognize just how
impossible it would be to live with Joshua and ignore my blossoming
feelings for him. The last two weeks were spent on the cusp of something
that felt like heartbreak. All because he was ignoring me.
My attraction to him wasn’t strictly physical, otherwise it might not
be a problem. I could blame the allure on hormones and curiosity and
inexperience. I’d seen a man’s body only a handful of times and never in a
particularly intimate way.
My growing sexual awareness was just the icing on this emotional
cake. I liked Joshua. Really liked him. Even when he was too quiet or
unnecessarily grumpy, I was happy to be around him. When he did speak,
he was intelligent and perceptive. When his mood was lighthearted—or as
close as Joshua got—he was downright charming. Maybe I was the only
person in the world who could see that charisma but it was there. And I was
hooked on it.
I’d spent the last two weeks trying to convince myself that I cared
for Joshua because he rescued me. Or that it was simply friendship and it
only felt different because we lived together. I’d also tried to persuade
myself to believe that I was fine with how things were going between the
two of us. There was no need to share my heart. Nothing would come of it
so why bother?
But what if something could come of it? Joshua didn’t flirt or seek
out my affection but that didn’t mean there couldn’t be more there, right? In
a gradual and subtle way, he’d stopped bristling at my closeness. Today he
didn’t even flinch when I put my hands on his face.
 Jeez, no sane person would view that as a sign that someone was
interested in them.
Was I being totally delusional here? If I admitted my feelings to Joshua it
could change everything, not necessarily for the better.
This was going to require some serious thought. We’d only just
recovered from whatever unspoken words were clouding the air between us
for the last two weeks. If I said something now, I wasn’t just ruining that
recovery.
I might be ruining everything.

[Link]
 26
Misery Loves Company
Joshua
“Can I come with you?” Liv asked, big green eyes glittering with
excitement.
Joshua was hoping that she would.
He’d given up pretending he didn’t want her around. He wasted two
weeks trying to remanufacture that space between them and failed
miserably. All it did was make her walk around with this sad pout on her
face and make him feel empty, like every ounce of life that was flourishing
inside of him came from her. The dejected sink of her shoulders, growing
deeper with each day that passed, gave him an acute pain in his chest.
Worse, no matter how much he tried to act the way he had
before that night, nothing felt the same. He couldn’t pretend to be
disconnected from her like she was just anyone. Every time he watched her
delicate hands working at a task, he remembered the feel of them. It made
his skin prickly and hot. It had him swallowing down a yearning so fierce
he thought he would choke on it.
“’Course.” For Joshua, that was an enthusiastic answer. He wanted her
to know that she was welcome. They could at least be friendly, couldn’t
they? Friendship was safe. He would let himself reach that point and stay
there.
“Really?” She beamed up at him. “I’ll get my jacket!” And with that
Liv was bolting back inside, boots clunking inelegantly on the steps and
nearly tripping her in the entryway. She was so damn clumsy.
Joshua tried to walk the perimeter of the fence twice weekly. In total
it was a little less than three miles round trip. On busier days, during the
abundance of spring and summer or when he spent the morning hunting, he
wouldn’t have time to check the whole thing before the sun went down.
The work load out on the farm was lightening with winter on the
way. And with Liv helping out, Joshua managed to finish the daily chores
before the sun completed a languid journey behind the trees. The light was
only now shifting to the rich gold color that accompanied evening in
autumn.
It was an exception to witness the show the sunset put on at this
time of year. Most days the sky darkened to a dull grey, dampening them
with a perpetual drizzle. Today they were treated to one of those rare days
where the clouds were gone and the breeze was crisp and cool.
Liv bounced back outside with her jacket and one of his knitted
wool hats. The hat was too big. Joshua liked the way it made her scowl
when it slid down her forehead. Her hair was braided into two shimmery
gold ropes that hung from either side of her head. It was tempting to run his
hand down each braid from root to tip. Liv’s hair, like most of her, was
incredibly soft to the touch.
“Ready when you are.” She said, folding the front of the hat in yet
another attempt to keep it out of her eyes. An annoyed huff ruffled the loose
blonde hairs that framed her cheeks when the chunky wool accessory
defiantly flopped back down.
They started toward the gate. Kuna took the lead, trotting ahead and
occasionally returning to nuzzle Liv’s hand. Damn dog was becoming a
love drunk dope around her.
Joshua and Liv strolled at a leisurely pace, the only noise between
them the whisper of the wind. Silent was not typically a word he would use
to describe Liv, but she had been unusually quiet today. She was probably
hesitant to speak after how he’d behaved. He would just have to live with
the consequences of his own stupidity and suffer through her quiet spells
until she felt he deserved her chatter.
At one time he might not have considered a walk pleasant. Liv’s
stride was short and if he intended to keep pace with her, he had to take half
steps. There was no reason to hurry today and he’d come to realize that a
walk could be satisfying without being productive. When had Joshua started
enjoying mundane tasks? A better question would be why had he started
enjoying such things?
The answer was leaning into his shoulder as she twisted to look up
at the barren branches of a maple tree. The back of her hand brushed his,
making him aware of how easily he could hold it. Such behavior was so far
out of the realm of what was known to him that Joshua felt ill with anxiety
just thinking about. Besides, that would encourage the change in their
relationship that he’d been desperately trying to avoid. Friends didn’t hold
hands, as far as he knew.
Yet, things had already changed between them. He couldn’t say
precisely when the shift happened but it came long before that awkward
night two weeks ago. Maybe it started that first day he brought her to town
and realized how furious it made him to see her frightened. It could have
happened later that evening when she’d unexpectedly kissed him. Falling
asleep in his arms only solidified the fragile roots of an emerging shoot.
Or perhaps the change started from something less significant. One
of those simple evenings where Liv was perched on the counter by the sink
and he was leaning on the cabinet adjacent to her, both of them brushing
their teeth. She could never keep her toothbrush in her mouth because she
was always giggling at his frothy mustache.
There were so many moments like that. They cooked dinner
together, talked by the fire until Liv couldn’t keep her eyes open, and—
skinny woman be damned—even folded laundry together. That alone was a
sign that he was different. Joshua despised laundry and rarely folded
anything if he could fit it in the drawer without doing so. But for Liv? He
sorted fucking socks.
Whatever the catalyst for this evolution in their relationship was didn’t
really matter now. It was already done and Joshua had solidified it further
this afternoon, at least in his mind. He knew he wasn’t seeking affection in
any ordinary way by asking Liv to cut his hair but to him, it was another
step down that path. It was him selfishly giving in to that need to be
touched by her and carefully giving up his attempt at distance.
Did she realize that was as close as he’d ever come to being
vulnerable with another person?
Joshua cared about Liv. There it was, out in the open—well, out in
the open in his head. Liv might be good at reading him but she couldn’t
possibly understand the unspoken desires he’d been entertaining.
That little step had to be as far as it went, though. What they had
right now was good. It was easy. By some miracle Joshua still hadn’t
sabotaged it. He needed to keep it that way. Keep it steady. Liv was happy
enough and Joshua was satisfied by that.
The rest could simply be ignored. Never mind that when she
touched him today, he wanted to rub his chin up and down her fingers like a
purring cat. Forget how often he “accidentally” caged her between the
counter and his chest while reaching for the top shelf just to have an excuse
to be near her. Even now he was walking close enough for their arms to
touch because he couldn’t help but gravitate towards her. And he was
having a hell of a time forgetting just how good her sleeping breaths felt on
his skin.
Again, that could be ignored. Joshua wouldn’t risk anymore change.
This was fulfilling as it was.
“Did it ever make you feel like you were in a prison?” Liv stopped
walking and pointed to the barbed wire at the top of the fence.
“Nah.” It was never the fence that made him feel trapped.
She studied his face, considering his answer as if it had been much
more than one grunted sound. “Was the fence there when you were a kid?”
“Been there as long as I can remember.” He nudged her elbow with his.
“C’mon, Squirrel. We’ll never make it home at this pace.”
She took a few quick steps to catch up with him. “Were you happy?”
“Huh?”
“When you were a kid. Did you like living here?”
He shrugged. “Never had anywhere else to compare it to.”
“I bet it was fun, spending all that time outside.” She fidgeted with
her hat, finally giving up and taking it off when it wouldn’t stay out of her
face. “Maybe you’ll tell me more about it someday.”
Liv only knew as much about his young life as he’d told her and that
wasn’t much. Still, she was a perceptive one and she’d gleaned that not all
of it had been pleasant. So why was she asking about it now? What could
she hope to learn? She probably wanted a nice story, some reassurance that
even Joshua’s small world had been more good than bad. No matter how
much he wanted to offer her that reassurance, it would be dishonest and he
didn’t like to lie to her.
“Maybe.” Apparently, that answer was enough because she nodded
and went back to her quiet contemplation. A few minutes ticked by before
Joshua found he couldn’t hold back his own question. “Does the fence
make you feel like you’re in a prison?”
She looked like there was something that immediately came to mind
but she held back, worrying her bottom lip. “No.” That was it? Why did she
sound so reluctant? “But…oh, never mind.”
“What?”
“You’ll think it’s silly.” More lip biting.
 “So?”
Liv gave him that pouty look. “It makes me sad sometimes.”
“The fence makes you…sad?”
“I don’t like that we have to isolate ourselves. I hate that we’re
really only safe behind a wall.” She stopped walking again and craned her
neck to meet his gaze. It was a struggle not to look away. When she spoke,
her voice was barely above a whisper. “And I guess it makes me sad that
you spent so much of your life alone behind a fence. Don’t you get lonely
out here?”
It wasn’t the first time she’d asked that question. And just like the
last time the question came up, his only response was a snort. Joshua tried
not to lie, but he wasn’t interested in being that honest either. Admitting
loneliness was admitting weakness. If he was lonely it meant that in a way,
he needed someone else. Joshua had never and would never need anyone.
Even as a child he didn’t need his parents. He learned not to at a very early
age.
Still, the now familiar spark behind his sternum grew a little brighter
at her concern. Liv might be the only person in the world who’d ever been
sad for him. It was much different than the pity folks in town offered him
when he was a kid. There was no judgment in her tone. That was just the
type of person she was.
“Right, I forget you’re a robot.” She imitated his snort.
Though Joshua was concerned with her unusual behavior, he did his
best not to let it eat at him. Despite her quietness and odd questions, Liv
was smiling at all of the things that would regularly make her smile—like
Kuna’s frisky excitement at the cold weather—and her body language
dictated that she was mostly at ease. There was a slight tension in her
shoulders but that could easily be tight muscles from the daily chores she
did around the farm.
“Cold?” He halted his trailing thoughts when he noticed Liv
shivering. They were two thirds of the way through their walk but he
wouldn’t hesitate to send her home if she couldn’t handle the dropping
temperature. Damn woman needed to put more meat on her bones before
winter.
“A little, but it’s a good cold.” She answered through chattering
teeth.
“Didn’t realize cold could be good.”
 “It’s like when you say moonshine has a good burn. It’s invigorating.
Plus, it will be that much better when we go inside and start the fire. It’s
easier to appreciate warmth and shelter when you’ve gone without.” And
she would know.
“Your lips start turning blue, I’m sending you home.”
The only response to that was a smirk that Joshua interpreted as
“like hell you will.” Stubborn woman had yet to learn that he was not a man
to be tested. Joshua would sling her over his shoulder and haul her ass back
to the cabin simply because she implied that he couldn’t make her go. His
brain was not wired to allow him to back down from a challenge.
The perimeter check went off without a hitch, as did dinner. When
they’d finished eating and tidying up the kitchen Joshua sent Liv to fetch a
blanket and meet him on the porch. By the time he stepped outside with two
mugs of tea she was nestled in the far corner of the wood bench, tightly
wrapped in a crochet blanket. There was still a hint of inexplicable
uncertainty in her expression. All of it faded when she caught sight of him
and beamed a honey sweet smile. What did he do to deserve that?
“How was your day?” She asked as he handed her a mug.
It was terribly tempting to take the spot next to her. The way she sat
curled in the corner left the perfect place for him, almost as if she wanted
him there. That would put them so close together that no position or posture
would keep them from touching. And if he was going to claim he didn’t
want anything from her beyond friendship, he couldn’t take that seat.
Because if Joshua let himself spend that much uninterrupted time
beside her, he couldn’t predict how he might react. He was not about to risk
giving her the impression that he did want something. Even if—oh, for
fuck’s sake—he did. Damn, when she smiled at him like that it made his
insides feel like they were made out of feathers.
And to admit to himself what he really wanted? Even thinking it
opened a well of fear so deep it seemed fathomless. Since the day he
became a young man, too broad and tall to be the victim of John’s wrath,
Joshua hadn’t been afraid of anything. Until Liv. She terrified him because
she made him hope. She made him want. Both could be deadly to a man in
the end of the world.
Both could be deadly to a man, period.
Joshua took the cedar Adirondack furthest from her, but when she
turned to him to say, “Beautiful view you’ve got out here,” he was looking
directly at her when he responded with a firm, “Yes, it’s beautiful.”

[Link]
 27
Captivating Cruelty

After such a rough few weeks, today felt absolutely perfect. The
weather was perfect, the walk before dinner was perfect, and spending time
with Joshua was—yes, believe it—perfect. Today he’d been so—what was
the right word?—docile. Friendly. Happy, even. There was an
uncharacteristic lightheartedness to him that completely caught me off
guard. That dark and churlish man from the last two weeks had vanished as
quickly as he’d come.
I couldn’t make sense of it.
What was it about Joshua that had me so enthralled? I’d been
mulling it over all day and I had yet to work out how I ended up
moonstruck. We were so different. If he was black coffee, I was a raspberry
mocha. Some days I almost felt as if he was an entirely different species.
That was what made him so exciting. He was a puzzle for me to
solve, a new terrain to explore. He was challenging and bewildering and he
opened the world up to me. He taught me to be brave—no, he showed me
that I already was. That was why he had me captivated.
How could I leave life with Joshua as it was after realizing that?
How could I let such precious feelings go unsaid in a time where our days
were numbered, where everything was fleeting? We never knew if there
was a tomorrow for us. I was acutely aware that the end could come at any
moment.
What if it came without him ever knowing that he was cared for?
That someone treasured him for exactly who he was?
Joshua set his mug at the base of his chair and rose abruptly. Just
when I thought I’d unexpectedly lost my chance to say anything, he
returned with the mystical guitar that sat dusty and untouched in the corner
of the cabin for the entire three months I’d been there.
Deft fingers plucked each string, bringing them back to tune like it
was habitual. I never dreamed he knew how to play. It seemed more like a
decorative prop to add to the rustic cowboy aesthetic of the house. I should
have known better. Not a bone in Joshua’s body was concerned with
aesthetics.
I scooted to the edge of my seat, careful to keep my gaze forward in
case he felt me watching him and withdrew back into himself. His eyes
were shuttered, lips pressed together in concentration. Then those lips were
moving and a deep hum buzzed from his throat, gradually rising in pitch
until it turned into words.
The song was one I recognized, only vaguely. Willie Nelson, or maybe
Johnny Cash? The music softened the edges of his gruff voice, turning it to
a rich basso vibration that seemed to make the entire world go quiet. Every
groaning tree, late autumn bird, even the wind, went still in silent awe. His
music was so unexpectedly beautiful that it threaded my arms in
goosebumps and left my eyes sparkling with unshed tears.
This. This was what I loved about Joshua. Every time I thought I
had the enigmatic man figured out I discovered a new dimension, a version
of him hidden away under that ridiculous boorish attitude. From the very
beginning he made it clear to me that he was not some altruistic, gentle
giant that just needed to be coaxed out of his shell. He was selfish and he
was mean.
And that was true sometimes but that narrative didn’t tell his
complete story. Even Joshua himself didn’t see the full portrait of the man
he was.
There was so much about him that was good. He was decent and
principled and insightful. And yeah, maybe he wasn’t gentle and even
tempered—I’d watched him nearly rip Wheeler to shreds over petty
comments—but he’d never raised a hand to hurt me. In fact, he’d gone out
of his way to protect me—arguably gone against his nature to do so, if he
was to be believed. Joshua cared about me, which was not something I ever
imagined I could say with confidence until now.
A revelation hit me so hard I gasped. I’m in love with him.
The feeling was so intense that I felt punched in the heart. I was in love
with Joshua. My stomach fluttered like I was about to ride the first drop of a
rollercoaster and for a moment I almost thought I would be sick.
It was one thing to ignore my feelings for him when it was mere
infatuation but this was huge, too huge to silently live with. Love was
magic. That was the stuff that made the end of the world worth living
through. Love was worth taking a chance on. My mind was racing, heart
thudding an anxious, excited rhythm behind my sternum.
“Joshua,” I exhaled sharply. His eyes snapped open, alarm drawing
creases around them. The guitar strings vibrated as his hand whipped away
from the instrument. That action-ready expression on his face was almost
enough to make me lose my nerve.
“What is it?” He started to rise, frantically scanning the garden in
front of us. I must have looked afraid because he took a side-step toward
me, still eyeing the property for whatever had me frightened. “Liv, what is
it?”
Okay, I hadn’t meant to put him in survival mode but I was freaking
out. Now that he was freaking out, I only felt more panicked. “I’m in love
with you.” I blurted.
Joshua swiveled on his heel, the motion so painfully slow that it seemed
the sun dipped further below the horizon before he was fully facing me.
“What?”
“I’m in love with you,” I repeated in a whisper.
His mouth dropped open before immediately clicking shut again. One of
those familiar frowns darkened his face, this time showing anger and
something unidentifiable but equally unexpected. “No, you’re not.”
Now I was the one standing, frowning, asking, “What?”
“You’re not in love with me.” His words were clipped. Before I
could defend myself, he was storming back into the house. I heard the
guitar strings vibrate when he thumped the instrument back in place,
hopefully not hard enough to break it.
“Joshua,” I followed him inside. “It’s okay if you don’t feel the
same. I just thought I should tell you. What if I never get another chance?
The world is ending! I needed to say it at least once.”
“Stop it!” He snarled.
“Stop what?”
Joshua started pacing the space between the bed and the kitchen.
“Stop saying that!”
“Why does it make you angry?” I hated how small that question
made me sound.
“I’m angry because I have some foolish woman wasting my time,
pretending like we’re in a fairytale. It’s the end of the fucking world! You
don’t get to love.”
 Any surprised hurt I was nursing flared into anger of my own. “Oh,
trust me, I know this isn’t a fairytale. You’re definitely not prince
charming!” I shouldered past him to the bed, which really only served to
bounce me off of him because he was so hard and unyielding.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
What was I doing? I had my backpack in my hand, kicking my
belongings out from under the bed with my feet. Whatever I was doing, it
was rash.
“It’s none of your business what I’m doing. Last time I checked, I
still have autonomy. You don’t get to tell me what I can and cannot do,
Joshua.” I slammed my pack on the bed, taking indiscriminate handfuls of
clothes and shoving them inside. When Joshua grew quiet, I paused to look
back at him. “I realize that I’m the bane of your existence and you can
barely stand my presence, but you didn’t have to be cruel.”
“I told you I was mean.” His voice was frigid, so completely void of
emotion that I couldn’t believe I’d ever thought him capable of it.
“You did.” And I was the one who ignored it. I had no right to be
angry with him. He warned me from the start that this was who he was and
he was completely unchanging in it.
Joshua was right. I was stupid. I’d spent the entire time treating him
like a normal person and imagining that his behavior meant something
more, as it might have with anyone else. He wasn’t anyone else, though. He
never would be and I couldn’t expect him to change. Shouldn’t expect it.
That wasn’t fair.
It didn’t make the rejection hurt any less.
I hesitated, one strap of my backpack slung over my shoulder.
“What happened to them?” I wasn’t sure why the question surfaced now of
all times. I thought maybe if I heard the answer from him, heard the truth of
the one bad thing I knew for certain he’d done, it would steel my heart
against him. I could walk away from Joshua only if I could erase the good I
saw in him. “To Wheeler’s men?”
Joshua was confused for half a minute before he must have realized
why I was asking. The frost spread from his voice to his expression, turning
him rigid. “Shot ‘em in the head and left ‘em for the animals.”
“You killed them?” The next sentence out of my mouth surprised us
both, a justification. “They were bad people.”
 “I’m a bad person! I didn’t rescue you. You want to know why I
stopped them? Why I brought you back here?” Joshua loomed over me, his
icy demeanor suddenly melting with a livid heat.
“No.” I whispered.
“You’re a woman. Thought you’d be useful.” Useful for what? It
didn’t matter. Whatever use he thought I might have, he never sought it out.
“I don’t believe you.”
“Because you’re naïve. You’re just a resource to me.” Joshua
shrugged. He lifted his shoulders and shrugged off me and my feelings.
“Liar!” I shouted. “If you want to lie to yourself, fine! Whatever
keeps you comfortable in your isolated little world. But don’t you dare lie to
me, Joshua. Not again. I deserve better.”
“What are you doing?” Joshua repeated when I finished tugging my
pack on, skirting around the kitchen table to avoid him. “Olivia, where are
you going?”
“Away from here. I won’t stay where I’m not wanted.”
His silence said everything that I needed to know. Now I just had to
make it out the gate without him seeing me cry. I wouldn’t let him. I already
felt stupid enough.
What was I thinking? Maybe I wasn’t.
“You’re leaving?”
I answered sharply, not giving myself room to change my mind, no
matter how foolish I was being. “Yes.”
“Maybe you should.” He mumbled, like even annunciating the
words took more effort than he cared to exert.
I could feel his eyes on me when I pushed the front door open but I
wouldn’t let myself look over my shoulder. He was cold, crueler than I
thought him capable of. I couldn’t stand to see him anymore, couldn’t bear
to be within a hundred feet of him. Or even on the same continent as him.
“You can’t go out there.” I was almost to the gate when Joshua’s
booming voice made my steps stutter.
“No?” I whipped around, catching him off guard. He almost
barreled into me. “You want me to leave the house but not the yard? Am I
no different than the dog to you?”
“I didn’t say I wanted you to leave.”
“Yeah, you kind of did!” I yelled. “Go home and sit in your stupid
chair. You obviously don’t want me around unless I serve a purpose.”
 “Liv, don’t you dare open that gate!” I did. “Do not walk into those
woods!” I did that too.
Joshua was still standing where I’d left him when I swung the gate
shut. He jumped to catch it but it closed with a thud, almost crushing his
fingers. Kuna whimpered on the other side and I resisted the urge to turn
back, maybe murmur something apologetic or reassuring. Dogs couldn’t
understand reassurance anyway.
“Olivia! Come back here.” He snarled, flinging the gate open wildly.
Talk about mixed signals.
“Go away!” I called back. “You’ve made yourself clear. I won’t be a
burden or a resource.”
Joshua didn’t go away. I marched straight from the gate to the
woods and he followed. At a distance, I might add, like he couldn’t make
up his mind about what he was doing. Confusing, mean man.
I had no clue where I was going. Even when it wasn’t dark, I
couldn’t tell one path from another out here. The only vague sense of
direction I got came when, after twenty long minutes of walking, I found
the railroad tracks. That was also when the crashing of undergrowth behind
me ceased. If Joshua and Kuna were still with me, I couldn’t hear either of
them.
He was gone. And it was dark.
No, it was dim not dark. The forest thinned on the other side of the
railroad tracks and a few stray beams of sun that peeked over the horizon
provided an eerie glow.
Fifteen minutes later that last touch of light disappeared and it was
dark. Scary dark. Can’t-see-where-I’m-going dark. And in my rush to leave
the cabin I didn’t think to steal a flashlight. I only got a few steps before
nearly smacking into a tree.
What in the world am I doing out here? I’m going to get lost or fall
down a cliff or get eaten by wolves. I was fairly certain Joshua said there
weren’t wolves in this part of the country but I could imagine a pack of
them stalking me anyway.
Grudgingly, I turned back the way I came. I would return to the farm
and storm out again in the light of day, make a proper exit when I knew
where I was going.
I expected to see the railroad tracks twenty five feet or so behind
me. They weren’t there. All I saw was darkness. I swiveled slowly on my
heel and saw the faint outline of trees and nothing more. Now that I’d
turned in a full circle, I wasn’t positive which direction I’d been heading or
which direction I came from. Panic welled in my chest and I started to pant.
I’m lost in the woods. In the effing dark! After everything I’ve
survived, I’m going to die out here, alone.
“I’m not going to die.” I insisted aloud. “Calm down, Liv.”
I couldn’t calm down, though. I didn’t even have a compass, not that
it would do any good. My brain whizzed through thoughts, desperate to
remember anything Joshua told me about finding your way in the forest.
Any detail I could recall required—you guessed it—a compass and light.
Otherwise I could be heading straight for the gorge.
So, I would wait until the sun came back up. I could lean against a
tree to make sure an animal didn’t ambush me and make it through the night
before continuing. Great plan, assuming it didn’t get cold enough for me to
freeze to death.
I want to go home.
Where was home, exactly? With Joshua in that weathered old shack.
I don’t know when it became home, but as my fear ballooned and I sought a
comforting thought, that was what my mind conjured. I’d never had a
strong sense of home before. Home was a place to sleep and shower. It was
nice to have one and I liked decorating mine but that was it. Home was a
building.
Now home was a place with a person that hated my guts because
I loved him. That wasn’t the kind of home I wanted. That was
dysfunctional. I swallowed a hard lump in my throat and pushed away the
tears that came back for round two. I wouldn’t cry over him. Not anymore.
What did I do wrong?
Nothing. I didn’t do anything that warranted that kind of response. I
knew that having feelings for Joshua could complicate things, I just hadn’t
realized that dropping a bomb on his house would be met with less hostility
than admitting love.
A twig snapped behind me and in that exact moment I remembered the
cougar, coming at me with every intention of eating me. I scrambled to the
nearest tree, my pack scraping bark as I frantically pressed my back to it. I
knew that was the wrong move. I should be slower, more confident. Joshua
told me that running would only make a cougar chase, but I wasn’t waiting
around for it to sneak up on me and break my neck.
 There was another noise, this time right in front of me. I opened my
eyes wider, still seeing nothing. “Holy crap.”
Something cold and wet brushed my fingers. I shrieked and leapt
away. A hand wrapped tight around my upper arm and I shrieked again.
Another hand clapped over my mouth, followed by an indistinct curse.
“Joshua?” The sound was muffled beneath the palm covering the
lower half of my face.
For one terrifying second, I had no idea whose hands were on me. I
should have fought. I should have kicked and screamed and run. Instead I
froze, utterly paralyzed with fear. A deep voice, rough as gravel, ordered,
“Be quiet. C’mon,” and I exhaled a quaking breath.
Apparently, Joshua didn’t stop following me, only made himself
more discreet.
Kuna nuzzled me again. That was the cold and wet feeling. She
must have been the one snapping twigs, too. I gave her head a quick pat and
she leaned into my leg. I was getting more reassurance from the dog than
Joshua.
His thick fingers laced through mine, gently tugging me in his
direction. No, he wasn’t holding my hand. Fine, he was literally holding my
hand but it wasn’t some nice gesture. He just didn’t want to lose me in the
dark. He didn’t want me to bolt again and inconvenience him by making
him come after me.
I had you. And he had me still. His actions and his words told two
distinctly different stories.
Somehow Joshua knew the way home without a compass or a light.
The going was slow, trudging through the woods for what felt like an hour
before even reaching the railroad tracks. The quiet between us was painful,
adding to the weighty sadness that made my insides feel chilled.
As soon as we stepped back through the gate Joshua dropped my
hand, locking up and stomping up the porch steps without checking to see if
I followed.
I counted out two miserable minutes, shivering more violently with
each second that passed. In addition to a light and a compass, I’d also
forgotten to take my jacket off the coat rack. Some survivalist I was. I could
have gotten myself killed all because my heart was bruised.
Broken, I corrected. It felt utterly broken.
 Joshua was already in his chair when I came through the door, his
jar of moonshine turning into crystalline shades of red in the firelight. He
didn’t offer so much as a glance when I snatched the jar from his hand, took
a long, burning swig, and set it on the mantel. I wobbled back to the bed,
chucked my bag on the floor, and sank down onto the aged mattress.
The recliner let out a familiar groan and a floorboard squeaked.
Then the mattress shifted as Joshua sat on the other side of the bed, his back
to me.
“I do.” He murmured so quietly I barely understood the words.
I twisted to look at him. His shoulders were slumped, his head bowed,
face hidden in shadows. “You do what?”
“Get lonely out here. Some days I feel like I’m suffocating on it.”
The dam finally broke, tears spilling down my face, making him
into a watery blur. I turned to hide, feeling confused and ashamed and
certain it would make him angry to think I was pitying him. I heard Joshua
swallow, then thump the jar of moonshine on the nightstand. There was a
touch on my shoulder, so tentative and soft that it could have been a puff of
air instead of the brush of fingers.
I slowly eased around, steeling myself to face him. Those dark eyes
were fixed on me, swirling like melted chocolate. Sad chocolate.
I went from quiet tears to blubbering. “I’m sorry.”
“Never apologize to me. You have nothing to be sorry for. Never,
Liv.” He raised his hand from my shoulder, cupping my face and wiping
tears away with his thumbs. “Don’t do that. I hate it when you do that.”
It occurred to me that Joshua hadn’t been saying that out of
irritation. Another of our many miscommunications. My tears made him
uncomfortable but not for the reason I thought.
“How do I make it right?” That gravelly voice was dripping with
desperation. “Tell me how to make it right.”
“Hold me.” I didn’t know why I said it. For once I just wanted him
to comfort me. I didn’t really think he would do it.
But he did. He slid across the bed and towed me into his lap, hugging
me tight against him. And God, did it feel good. The heat of his skin and the
shelter of his arms were exactly what I needed. Not just tonight. I’d needed
this for months. I was starved for it.
Joshua’s fingers splayed in my hair, cradling my head so gently. I
closed my senses to everything but his arms firm around me and the
pounding of his heart in my ear, doing my best to memorize the sound. It
moved wildly beneath my palm, thrumming with feelings he couldn’t deny.
Feelings I wouldn’t let him deny.
“I didn’t mean it.” He finally spoke.
“Then why did you say it?”
“I told you I was mean.”
“You’re not.” I whispered. “You should stop pretending to be.”
“I’m not what you think I am.”
“You don’t even know what I think you are.”
Joshua went still. His heartbeat quickened, if that was possible.
“What do you think I am?”
“Confusing.” I sat up to look at him. “Short tempered. Impatient.”
He sat up too. “You’re rough around the edges. Really rough.” I continued
before he could interrupt. “You’re also smart, resourceful, considerate. You
take care of people in the subtlest ways. I don’t think you know how good
you are.”
His face sunk. “I’ll only disappoint you if you walk around thinking
I’m a good person.”
“You’re the cougar.”
“Huh?”
“I ran and you chased me. You’re a territorial predator.”
Despite his best efforts to contain it, a twitch of a smile danced on
his lips. “I guess you could put it like that.”
“You really did kill those men.” It wasn’t a question. I knew he did.
“Yes.” His answer came sharp and quick, ripping off the band aid.
“Do you think they deserved it?”
“Does that make it better?” The question was searching, cautiously
hopeful.
“I don’t know. The rules of the world have changed. Maybe there isn’t
right and wrong anymore. There’s only survival.”
“I don’t think people can live without some concept of morality.”
That surprised me coming from him. He had principles, sure, but it mostly
seemed like they determined what was beneficial to him or damaging, not
what was moral and immoral.
“You have to redefine it then.”
He swallowed. “So that it’s okay to kill people?”
 “To kill people who intend to hurt you.” My answer was as careful
as his question.
“To kill people who want to hurt you.” He added firmly.
I mulled that over for a minute, then asked “It’s more than just those
two, isn’t it?”
Joshua took his drink from the nightstand, swallowed a sip, then
another, and hesitantly answered. “Yes.”
“How many?”
“Six.” His response was immediate, prepared.
“Would you have done it if the blackout never happened?”
“Of course not.”
“Do you feel bad about it?”
“Not usually.”
“Why did you kill them?” It felt strange to ask so casually, as if we
were talking about why he decided to switch majors.
“They wanted to kill me or take my stuff. Or both.”
I laughed. It was the wrong reaction. It was such a horrible, heartless
response but I couldn’t hold it in. This was the world we lived in now. We
killed people who tried to take our stuff, like toddlers with guns.
“Are you okay?” Joshua straightened, bewildered alarm clouding his
features. I suspected he thought I was in such shock about his confession
that I suffered a mental break.
“I have no idea.” I chortled, wiping tears from the corners of my
eyes.
He subtly shifted away from me, fingers moving nervously up and
down the side of the glass jar in his hand. “Does that make you look at me
different?”
“Yes. Now I’ll be more careful about making you angry.”
“I would never...” He sighed, unable to finish the thought.
“If you haven’t already killed me then you probably wouldn’t even
if I asked you to.” God, did the end of the world make me insensitive or
what? I should probably be concerned by how unfazed I was by all of this.
“I would never hurt you.” This time he finished his sentence
decisively.
“But you did.” I whispered into the space between us.
“Fuck.” Joshua set his drink down with a clack. He scooted closer,
gripping my chin and bringing my attention to his face. The softness there
was so different from his usual countenance, so vulnerable. “I wish I didn’t.
I wish I could take it all back. Not just today. Two weeks ago. Two months
ago. Every time I yelled at you.” He squeezed his eyes shut. I took his free
hand and caressed his knuckles with my thumb. “I don’t mean to. I don’t
mean to be this way.”
“I know.”
His lids slowly lifted to reveal warm chocolate, dulled by the
absolute defeat that pooled in his eyes. “I don’t know how to be any
different.”
“I know.” I nodded again.
“What do I do?” His voice broke, provoking a fresh wave of tears
from me. This was the real Joshua. The secret Joshua. The part of Joshua
that was only mine.
“Tonight, just hold me.” I tugged him down onto the bed, draping
my body over his chest because I wasn’t the only one that needed to be
held. I managed to lie there for almost ten minutes before I couldn’t hold it
in any longer, finally asking, “Why them and not me?”
“Not you?”
“Why did you kill them but help me?”
I expected an excuse, a non-answer like “because you’re a woman.”
What I got surprised me. “I thought finding you was a sign.”
“Why?”
“Exactly. Why was I doing anything I was doing? Pops was gone
and I was surviving but why? My whole life was on autopilot. I’d never
lived outside the farm, never done any good outside that stupid wall. I was
alive and it was pointless.” I swallowed back my interruption. “The path I
found you on? I never take it. I never go west when I’m hunting. But that
day? I just…I don’t know. I woke up, took my rifle, and left. Didn’t
question where I was going or what I was doing, I just left. Then there you
were, asking for my help. No one had ever done that before.”
“So, you think it was fate that we met?”
“I don’t believe in fate.”
“God then?”
“Maybe.”
The silence that fell wasn’t comfortable or easy. Threads of anguish
and confusion were taut between us, uncertainty strumming along them like
his fingers on the guitar earlier tonight. Woven into that song of heartbreak
were notes of hope, just enough to keep me steady. Just enough to keep my
faith in whatever this was.
Joshua could be many things, sometimes terrible things, but I loved
him. I trusted him. I was determined to fight for him, even if that meant
fighting with him.
Carefully, even more tentatively than before, Joshua’s fingers
danced along the curve above my hip, tracing goosebumps into my skin. I
fell asleep in his arms, lulled by that delicate touch from a man that was
anything but delicate.

[Link]
 28
Legacy of Poison
Joshua
Joshua was sure of two things; He absolutely did not deserve Liv
and he would do absolutely anything to have her anyway.
She was deeply asleep. Her lips parted, her brow relaxed. Nothing
was quite as peaceful as Liv when she slept. How she managed to get in
that state after being so upset just an hour earlier, Joshua had no idea. Damn
woman was resilient, he had to give her that. Yeah, he had to give her a lot
of credit. She put up with him, hadn’t she?
Joshua was everything Liv had ever accused him of being and more.
He was a selfish, arrogant, overbearing ass and what he’d done tonight was
inexcusable. Had he really expected her to just stand there and take that,
then go to bed like nothing had changed?
Unfortunately, he had. Joshua was just that dumb. And he’d gotten
comfortable, too comfortable. For a minute he actually forgot there was a
possibility she would leave.
The problem was that her words sent him into a state of panic.
When Joshua’s fight or flight instinct was activated, he always chose fight.
It was in his nature to be brutal, to survive. He was born and bred that way.
And for some senseless reason, Liv expressing love to him felt like a threat.
Which only verified what he’d known his whole life: something was
wrong with him that made him incompatible for relationships. He sorted
people by usefulness and threat level, dehumanizing them so that they could
be placed in categories and handled accordingly. Liv didn’t fit into any of
his categories and when he tried to make her, it made them both miserable.
He hated that misery more than he’d ever hated anything.
And yet, there he went again, snarling at her like he was some rabid
animal. How dare she threaten him with…adoration? Yeah, he sure showed
her. Joshua went out of his way to be all of the worst things she saw in him.
You wanna love me? This is what I am. This is who I am. Can you
still love that?
 John used to snarl at affection too. He met all of Joshua’s soft spots
with hardness. Liv was one big soft spot. She was gentle and far too
forgiving for her own good. Joshua didn’t want to be hard on her and he
definitely didn’t want to harden her. She was honey and sunshine and that,
he knew, was very precious.
Joshua almost ruined it. He knew that. Watching Liv pack her stuff
made him feel like there was a viper writhing in his belly. It was a snake of
his own making, one whose venom seeped out onto his tongue, almost
poisoning all the good they had between them.
Why did he do it? Why did he strike at her when she got too close?

Liv threw that bag over her shoulder and his insides tied in so many
knots it would take him weeks to untangle them all. That sick feeling in his
gut was so foreign to him that he couldn’t immediately name it.
Fear. Joshua was experiencing fear.

She’s the only thing that truly scares me.

It wasn’t just fear for Liv, though he was terrified at the prospect of
her stumbling through the dark, encountering God knew what—or who. It
was fear for himself. He dragged her through the woods to bring her home
not only to protect her but because he selfishly couldn’t let her go. He was
afraid to be alone again.
Fuck, even if she wanted to leave, he didn’t know if he could accept
that. Joshua stormed after her tonight with the intention of following her as
far as she went. Maybe Liv was right; he was a territorial predator. In his
mind, she was his. She had been for a long time.
Suddenly Joshua understood what the feeling was that had been
clawing him up for weeks. The feeling that caused an inexplicable burning
in his fingertips when she was near, that heavy dread which sunk from his
chest all the way to his toes whenever she was upset, the relief at the sound
of her laughter—all of his suffering and joy. The explanation was so clear,
so obvious. He’d ignored and dismissed it as some bizarre illness of the
mind caused by weariness because until now, he didn’t know how to
identify it.
Longing.
Liv rolled with a quiet moan, giving him her back and leaving cold,
empty space where she’d rested atop him. Even that half a foot was too
much distance. He was afraid that if he let her go now, she would somehow
slip away in the night, disappear out of his grasp forever. Joshua carefully
snaked his arm underneath her and drew her back to him, pressing her spine
to his stomach.
Liv tilted her head back and murmured his name.
God, how could a name be so thrilling on her lips? Somehow Liv
managed to make it sound beautiful. Joshua wanted to hear his drowsy
name muttered into her pillow every evening as she dozed. He wanted to
hear it in that husky tone when she stretched sleep from her muscles in the
morning. He wanted to hear her say it like a reprimand, trying to hide her
smile because she secretly thought it was
funny when he was vulgar.
Joshua wanted his name to sound like pleasure purring from her
throat. He wanted his name to be a plea on her tongue, hungry and
desperate. Could he earn that from her? Could he give her a reason to stay?
Maybe not, but he would try his damnedest.
His greatest fear was that she might see him in the light of day and
remember what he was, what he showed her he could be, and then she
would leave again. Liv would get a lot further when the sun was out. Not if
he got his way. Joshua would do anything to fix this. He needed her to stay.
Yes, there it was. He needed her. He wanted her. He wanted this—
her skin on his, taking comfort in her closeness, in finally sharing his space
with someone.
Liv let out a long, contented sigh and he echoed it into the night.

[Link]
 29
Habits

A languorous stretch found the other side of the bed cold and empty.
I failed to swallow down my disappointment when I sat up and learned I
was alone not just in bed, but in the house. The crackling heat of the wood-
burning stove warmed the air and the smell of food permeated the small
space, so Joshua hadn’t been gone long.
It shouldn’t surprise me that he left. I was terrified he would
disappear for days, coming back to pretend like nothing had happened
between us once again. I couldn’t live that way anymore. Surely Joshua
realized that.
Unless he assumed my escape last night was a dramatic show and
nothing more. It might as well have been. If he hadn’t come after me, I
would have been frozen to death, eaten by a predator, or starving again
within three days. But could I stay just because I was helpless, even if I
wasn’t wanted?
Mingling with the scent of food was a familiar aroma I hadn’t
initially detected. I slipped from bed, following my nose to the table, where
I found a full plate, a hot mug, and a note. Curiosity wavered between the
note and the mug of rich, brown liquid. Steam curled off of it invitingly.
Couldn’t be. There was no way.
I lifted it to my lips and took a tentative sip. “Holy coffee!” And it
was. The real deal. Joshua made me coffee. It was a little stale and watery,
probably instant, but I would take what I could get.
I scanned the note while I fixed up my coffee with goat milk and
honey. It was short and to the point, very Joshua.
I’m sorry. Don’t leave. Dinner?
Beneath the note was a small list of tasks for me to complete, mostly
harvesting the last vegetables before an expected freeze. I was too focused
on the first two words to care.
I’m sorry.
From Joshua, that was one of the most meaningful sentiments I
could ever receive. I had never once heard the word sorry on his lips. It
didn’t fix everything, not by a long shot, but it was a good start.
Not wanting to wait until dinner, I threw on my jacket and boots,
grabbed my mug of coffee, and stumbled down the steps. The farm was big,
but not big enough that Joshua could avoid me all day. When I couldn’t find
him in the barn, the woodshed, or any other place I thought, I began to
worry that he left the property just to avoid me. Why hide?
It was only when I was back inside and seated at the table that I
remembered Joshua mentioning wood collection yesterday. He had plans to
break down a dead tree a quarter mile off the farm and bring it back for
more firewood. Hope sparked in the chambers of my heart, a fragile,
flickering ember. It was a reckless heat, too easily snuffed out, but I
intended to feed it.
I was an optimist, after all.

◆◆◆

The rhythmic thumps on the porch step matched the pounding of my

heart. For nearly three and a half months I lived with Joshua. He’d seen me
at my very worst, literally at death’s door, and I had only been half as
nervous then as I was now. I went back to slicing apples for the sweet
cinnamon bread I was attempting, busying myself so I had the excuse of not
noticing his return.
I’d actually seen him out the window an hour earlier, dragging a
collection of logs with a thick rope. He was shirtless, mist collecting in dew
drops on his beard, steam rising from his heated skin in the brisk air. I
watched him until he disappeared around the side of the house, appreciating
the candid moment.
The natural grace infused in his movement always surprised me. His
feet should have thundered against the ground, his broad body lumbering
inelegantly. Every step he took seemed to be practiced, the tautness of his
arms precise and planned, his long legs dancing more than shuffling, even
with the load he hauled.
I couldn’t help but wonder if he’d have that same grace when he
touched me, tough hands sweeping carefully across my hips. Would he be
as meticulous with his lips if they explored the column of my throat?
 By the time I heard the rustle of Joshua’s coat hanging on the rack, I
was frantic. The warmth that flushed my cheeks spread down my neck and
into my stomach, tightening it with nervous anticipation. One thud followed
another as his boots hit the ground, then nothing. The cabin was painfully
quiet but for the muted hiss and crackle of the fire and the crunch of the
blade cutting through apple flesh.
The harsh gaze boring into my back was tangible, raising the
hairs on my neck and sending a cluster of soft winged butterflies into flight
in my belly. I waited. I waited until I’d run out of apples and my hand was
unnecessarily running a rag over the knife blade. The rest of my ingredients
perched on the table, ready to be assembled. Then I would have to turn
around and I wasn’t brave enough.
And somehow, it felt like capitulating to him. Not tonight. It was his
turn to surrender.
“I didn’t mean you had to make me dinner.” I dropped the knife onto
the cutting board a little too hard, almost sending it off the counter and
towards my helplessly bare toes.
“I should. You do all the cooking.” And there it was. A recycled
conversation, one we played out at least once a week like we were already a
couple with a history and a routine.
Because we were.
Maybe it was never spoken aloud and maybe the definition of our
relationship wasn’t as clearly marked as some, but we’d become more long
before my ill-received confession. I knew it with utter certainty.
I had you. He did. He always did because Joshua cared about me
enough to bring me home.
Home.
I turned then, preparing myself for whatever I might see on his face.
He held my gaze, unblinking and intense. I wished I could read what was
going on in his head. His eyes churned like a river swelling with snow melt.
Nothing was visible through those dark rapids.
Joshua reached into his pocket and removed a piece of paper with
painstaking care. This one was discolored and wrinkled. One corner even
looked as if someone had started burning it but then changed their mind. It
definitely wasn’t a note he scribbled out on scrap paper from the junk
drawer this morning.
 “Are you writing me love letters now?” I wanted to cringe when I
saw his reaction to that question. Where I’d hoped for a smile, I received a
grimace instead. My fingers skirted around the bag of flour, spices, and
mixing bowl, brushing the paper cautiously. I couldn’t tell if it was
reverence or something darker that made Joshua handle it with such care so
I treated it the same, gently unfolding it and flattening it on the table.

John, I thought if I loved you hard enough I could thaw your cold
heart. I was wrong. I can’t live like this anymore. Tell Joshua I love him. -
Helen

If I hadn’t already heard Tommy Wheeler throw their names around

like barbs intended to prick Joshua’s skin, it would be obvious now who
Helen and John were. This was a note from his mother. I studied him in my
peripherals, trying to imagine how old he was when those words were
written. I pictured a little boy, unkempt black hair falling in his eyes.
He was probably mistaken for an older kid, unusually tall for his
age, leggy, but in my mind he was young. Too young to be motherless. Too
young to be left alone with a half-crazed father hellbent on isolating them
from the world.
No wonder he was rough around the edges. He was already destined
to grow up different living the way he did. He had no friends, no siblings,
no support except his parents. And he didn’t have their support, apparently.
I thought back to the way he described his loneliness. When I looked at the
words on that note, saw every crease from where he’d read them over and
over, I felt his ache. I felt the emptiness. It hurt.
“Joshua,” I said softly.
He flinched at my gentle tone. “Love doesn’t guarantee anything.”
I set the note down and stepped around the table, close enough to
touch him, if he’d let me. I could tell that he wanted to retreat, eyeing his
potential exits like a cornered animal, but he held his ground. “What is
guaranteed?”
He looked at his hands, taking so long with his one word response
that I thought he might not give me one. “Nothing.”
“Nothing is guaranteed.” I agreed. “Look at the world around us.
Did you ever expect to be living like this?” I glanced to the woodburning
stove beside me and shifted the question. “Okay, did any other person
expect the blackout? Of course not. We thought driving cars and taking
selfies and Game of Thrones were all going to go on forever.”
“Selfies?” Confusion lightened his words.
“It’s a picture. Of yourself. Self-ie? Never mind.” I waved at his
increasingly puzzled expression. “My point is that there is no certainty. Not
before the world ended and definitely not now. Love isn’t a guarantee, not
of happiness or safety, but it does add a little light to a dark world.” I slid
the note across the table, rejecting whatever fear he was projecting onto me.

Joshua shoved it into his pocket, his fist lingering there, trying not to
fidget. “What are the apples for?”
“Apples?” We veered away from the heavy topic so quickly my
head was spinning. “Oh. Apples. For the bread.” I held up the book full of
sweet breads and muffin recipes.
“You didn’t have to...” His hand was still fisted in his pocket, head
down, shoulders so taut I could hear his muscles straining.
I reached for his free hand, squeezing it before he could pull away.
“Thank you. That’s all you have to say.”
His mouth moved, chewing the foreign word until he knew the taste.
“Thank you.”
I smiled my first real smile that day. “You’re welcome.”
Our conversation over dinner was a well-practiced dance, artfully
sidestepping all the discomfort brought on by unspoken words. Potent
emotions took the empty chairs at the table, watching us with growing
impatience, waiting for their turn to be heard. More than once I turned to
them and more than once I hesitated. Not yet.
Then when? I wanted to shout. When is he going to stop pretending?
An hour later I was crossed legged in front of the hearth, licking
sticky apple bread from my fingers. Joshua eased down beside me, shifting
uncomfortably. I wasn’t sure if it was nerves or because he struggled to find
a good position for his long legs. He eventually ended up with his legs
crooked, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. The fire reflected
vibrantly in his eyes. Eyes that were not looking at me.
“My parents didn’t want me.” I blurted when the silence became too
much. He shared his pain so I would share mine. Then maybe we could
understand each other better, maybe he would feel less exposed.
“How can you know that?”
 “I mean my real parents. My birth parents. I was four when they put
me up for adoption. If I’m being perfectly honest, I don’t think my adoptive
parents really wanted me either. They only want a prim doll that would sit
pretty at their dinner table. I always got the feeling they weren’t happy with
how I turned out.” Wow, this was much harder than I’d anticipated. No
wonder Joshua was uncomfortable. It hurt to bear your already raw heart to
someone else.
My voice was shaking on the next sentence. “That’s why I left last
night. I spent so much of my life desperately chasing love from people who
didn’t really care about me. When I left for college, I promised myself I was
done with that. I won’t stay somewhere I’m not wanted. Never again.”
“Fuck me.” Joshua rubbed fingers through his beard.
“I don’t remember life with my birth parents and I don’t want to
care about them but somedays, I really do. If I think about it long enough, I
feel rejected. I feel like I’m not lovable. Or that maybe I’m broken
somehow and that’s why they didn’t want me.”
He shifted closer, our shoulders almost touching. “You’re not
broken.”
“Neither are you.”
“I never said—” He bit the harsh words off and inhaled deliberately.
“I’m not like you.”
“No, you’re not.”
“I can’t pretend it didn’t happen.”
“I don’t pretend. I just decided that the problem was never with me.
It was them. And it was their loss when they let me go.” I rested my palm
on his bicep, watching for a reaction. He tilted his head my way and I took
it as permission, sliding my hand further down until it could rest in his. “I
don’t want to leave.”
“I don’t want you to.” I held my breath through the pause that
followed. “You are…unexpected.”
“Okay,” I nodded, encouraging him to say more.
“You mess me up.”
“That doesn’t sound like a good thing.”
“It’s not. I meant—fuck, I can’t talk to you.” He jerked his hands up
and rubbed his face.
“Try.” I pushed. “I need to hear it.”
 “There are things I want to say to you and when I try to say them,
they come out wrong. Then I try to correct it and you misunderstand me and
you think I’m being mean to you and it all goes to hell. I don’t know what
to do with you. You always do unexpected things. You say unexpected
things. You aren’t what I expect you to be.” Joshua heaved in air, the
admission leaving him breathless.
“And that’s bad?”
“No. It’s good. I mean, yes, it’s bad too, because I think you’ll be a
way and then you’re not and I’ve been acting like you will be and…”
“How do you expect me to act?”
His eyes got this wide, deer-in-the-headlights look and I almost
wanted to revoke the question. “Manipulative. I expect you to want
something from me and that’s why you’re nice. But it’s not. You’re nice for
no good reason. I don’t know what to do with that.”
I faced him, not giving him an opportunity to avoid me
anymore. “I’m grateful for what you’ve done for me but that’s not why I
like you, Joshua. I like the way you think. I like your stories. Sometimes I
even like your grumbling.”
Joshua was genuinely bewildered, staring at me like I’d grown two
heads. “I don’t have anything to give you. My world is black and white,
always has been. You’re not even grey, you’re colors. Bright shit, like
purple and yellow. I don’t know where that fits.”
I laughed. “I’ve fit pretty well so far, haven’t I?”
“You took a hammer to a bunch of screws.”
“I have absolutely no idea what that means.”
“Means you’re a damn stubborn woman.” Joshua dropped onto his
knees, taking my face in his hands. “Damn stubborn, beautiful woman.”
Then he kissed me, quick and unexpected. I understood how he must have
felt that night I slapped him with a drunken peck.
“You think I’m beautiful?” I grinned, wrapping arms around his
shoulders so he couldn’t escape.
“Was that the only part you heard?”
“It was the only important part.” I rose up on my knees, chin tilted
so I could reach his face. “You owe me more than that.”
“More than what?” I inhaled his breathy question, our lips so close
that my mouth moved when his did.
“More than one rushed kiss.”
 Joshua pulled away, mischief sparkling in his eyes. “You kissed me
first, so it seems like maybe you owe me.”
I tackled him to the rug, wrapping my thighs around his hips. Joshua
let me pretend I had the upper hand, his arms lying limp where I held them
over his head. “You haven’t asked me yet.”
He scowled. “Asked you?”
“To stay.” I whispered, barely swallowing the emotion that
threatened to break me open again.
He propped up on his elbows, drowning me in the headiness of his
heavy gaze. “Stay. Stay here with me, Liv.” It wasn’t a question so much as
a demand. I expected nothing less of him.
I answered with my lips pressed to his, tasting the cinnamon and
honey on his tongue. There were a hundred promises in that kiss, a hundred
more days and nights, if we were lucky enough to get them.
“Yes.” I breathed.

[Link]
 30
Lost Time

Many nights ago, buzzing with moonshine and the joy of being
alive, I wanted to kiss Joshua. That desire hadn’t been quelled by one
drunken press of lips. I wanted to devour him.
Or maybe I wanted him to devour me.
I’m not sure how long we stayed on the floor, drinking each other
in. My worldview had narrowed to nothing but the feel of Joshua’s lips, the
textured calluses at the apex of his fingers as they became bold enough to
slip beneath my shirt and caress my lower back. The fire crackled lazily
beside us but the heat of it was nothing compared to what was rising
between us.
He didn’t stop me when I pressed him onto his back, returning to my
place on his lap and leaning over him to kiss all the exposed patches of his
face that weren’t coated in thick hair. His beard rasped against my cheek
when I turned his head to press my lips beneath his ear.
“Olivia.” The gravel of his voice sent chills up my arms, like it too
was a touch that was both rough and tender. For once I wasn’t tempted to
chide him for using my full name. It was a name only he knew me by, an
intimacy that we’d shared long before this.
I eased away, staring down at Joshua with palms on his chest. His
eyes were half-lidded, swirling in that delicious dark chocolate way. More
light sparked in them as I adjusted my hips atop his, making both of us
aware that he was enjoying my affection. A lot. My own sense of boldness
grew with that awareness until I was tickling my fingers through his beard,
moving lower, plucking buttons on his flannel, moving lower still.
My first layer went too. Another followed and another until his
chest was bare and I wore nothing but my discolored pink bra. I was more
embarrassed by the state of the tattered piece than I was shy about him
seeing me undressed. For a selfish moment I wished for the world to be
right only so that I could make myself beautiful for him.
Then I remembered that he already thought I was beautiful, tattered
clothes, unplucked eyebrows, and all. Joshua’s first and only impression of
me was real. Raw. Honest. That was the gift of the blackout. No one could
hide themselves anymore, not really.
Joshua shuddered as I ran two fingers down his sternum, finally
tracing every line of muscle I’d so desperately wanted to touch. He was
letting me explore, giving me complete freedom to touch him as I wished.
I’d finally captured his surrender and I intended to celebrate my victory.
I tasted his skin from neck to navel, touched every fine scar—he had
quite a few. When his breath was ragged and the grip of his hands felt
feverish on my thighs, I moved to the final button keeping him from being
fully exposed to me. The rough zipper of his jeans filled the suddenly quiet
cabin. Joshua sat up on his elbows, studying my face with an unreadable
expression.
I didn’t want him to stop me. Not until I’d taken everything he had
to give. Not until he’d been mine, at least once. If he would let me in, pry
open those steel doors that kept him so carefully in check, I knew he
couldn’t take it back. He couldn’t run from me anymore than I could run
from him. Joshua would belong to me in a way that no one else could have.
But he was hesitating and I was suddenly afraid he wasn’t ready to
share that much of himself, that maybe he never would be and I would
always be just one foot closer than everyone else.
“Liv?” I froze, waiting for him to tell me that I’d misinterpreted
everything and he didn’t want me, not like I wanted him. Instead he asked,
“Are you sure you want to do this?”
I wasn’t really sure what this was yet, but I knew I wanted it.
Whatever he would allow, I wanted it. “Yes.” I exhaled. “Can I touch you?”
“Yes.” The word was a groan as my roving fingers continued their
exploration, barely waiting for his permission. The way he followed my
touch, arching his back to move closer, seemed permission enough.
I quickly learned from Joshua’s reaction when I did something right.
It must have been really right because after only a few minutes he was
panting, his eyes rolling shut.
With a growl he shot upright, taking my wrists to still my hands.
“Stop,” he breathed.
I studied his flushed face with a confused pout. “Did I do something
wrong?”
“Fuck no.” He actually chuckled. “But it’s my turn.”
 I was on my back, my bra flying across the carpet and my jeans
slipping past my knees before I grasped what he meant.
Joshua chuckled again, his deep laughter a delicious vibration that
hummed along my skin. Only when the coarse hair on his chest brushed
against my skin, sending a strange shiver down my spine, did I realize that
we were both naked. And he was on top of me. Trepidation suddenly had
me shivering for a whole different reason. This was what I intended, wasn’t
it? Or was it what he intended? At this point I wasn’t entirely sure who
started what anymore, only that I had been determined to finish it.
And now?
I lost my train of thought when Joshua brought his lips to the spot
just above my collar bone. He withdrew but only long enough to repeat the
question I’d asked him. “Can I touch you?” My eyes met his, wholly
focused on me, completely open in a way I’d never seen them before. I
nodded gently, but that didn’t satisfy him. “Say it.”
I answered his demand with a shy, “Yes.”
Joshua settled on the rug beside me, his body pressing against mine
as he used one hand to explore from my neck, stroking the crescent of flesh
beneath my breasts, tickling along my stomach, and skimming work
roughened fingertips down to my thighs. His exploration was slower than
mine, more confident, and I began to wonder how many times he’d done
this.
My nervous thoughts were once again disrupted when his fingers
finally found the spot where all of the heat from his kisses seemed to
migrate. It was almost an ache, thrilling yet uncomfortable, but it was
immediately eased by his touch. More than eased. I felt as if my body
matched his eyes, melting like chocolate until I was soft and pliable on the
floor.
I let him continue, knowing those eyes were on me but feeling too
afraid to look up and meet them. I couldn’t see his expression if I was going
to muster up the courage for my next request.
“Joshua?” I inhaled a shaky breath.
I squeezed my eyes shut but his breath on my cheek and his quiet
command forced me to open them. “Look at me.” What was that expression
he wore? It was intense and a little wild. “Tell me what you want.”
Maybe he was feeling exactly what I was. “I want you to make love
to me.”
 His pupils warped into black pools, his Adam’s apple bobbing.
“Make love to you?”
“Yes.” I snaked my arms around his neck, arching my back and
wrapping my legs around him. “Make love to me.”
Joshua shifted, a subtle smile playing on his lips.
“Wait!” I put a hand on his chest and he froze.
“It’s okay if you change your mind.” He said softly.
“No, it’s not that.” I blushed. “I’ve never done this before.”
“I know.”
My blush deepened. “Is it that obvious?”
“No.” He brushed his thumb along my bottom lip. “But it’s not
something you take lightly.”
“It’s not.” I laid back beneath him.
“It’s okay.” His whisper caressed the side of my ear. “I’ve never
done this either.” A kiss landed beneath my ear, another lower down my
throat.
We came together on a hiss of breath. I felt too full and yet it felt
like some missing part of me had finally been returned. Joshua made me
whole in a way I didn’t know I could be, in a way I didn’t know I wanted to
be.
His gaze was fixed so intently on me. I was all that existed to him
and he all that existed to me. The faster we moved, the more I felt I was
reaching for something. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it but I knew there
was something I wanted, a sensation I was seeking that only he could give
me.
That warming pleasure increased with every movement, every
touch, every brush of his chest along my breasts. Each muscle in my body
was tightening, tension winding me tighter and tighter until I was like a
string pulled too taut. When I let out an unexpected moan, Joshua stilled,
cupping my cheek with an expression of concern that was so unlike him I
almost wanted to laugh.
“Am I hurting you?”
“No,” I panted. “You’re definitely not hurting me.”
A smug smile spread his lips. I couldn’t fathom how I’d ever
thought him anything but beautiful. The way his eyes settled on me had
butterflies coming to life in my stomach all over again.
 The more fervent Joshua became, the tighter I felt pulled until,
finally, unexpectedly, I snapped. At first it felt as if my entire body went
rigid, back arching up, legs tightening around his hips. Then everything
softened and again, I was melting. Heat pulsed through my veins and a
series of moans came unbidden from my throat until I was absolutely
breathless.
Joshua slipped his arm beneath my back and pulled me closer. I was
utterly lost in the feel of his hands pressing into my hips, the place where
we connected. The tendons on his neck strained and he let out a gravelly
breath, collapsing over me like every ounce of energy he had was spent.
I curled my limbs around him, feeling his labored breathing match
my own. We stayed that way for a small eternity, sweat slicking our skin,
his face warming my neck. Joshua finally rolled away with a lazy stretch,
reminding me of a very large cat.
As I watched him relax on his back, staring up at the flicker of
firelight that danced across the ceiling, I felt a quiet dread slithering through
me. There was so much I wanted to say to him, so many questions I had
about how he felt, but I knew there was no better way to make him retreat
than to speak any of those words. He would disappear, maybe not
physically but into himself. Like the cougar, Joshua quietly slipped away
from every perceived threat to watch it pass from his hidden perch.
And this? This budding relationship between us—if it could even be
called that—was as dangerous as it got for Joshua. I knew him well enough
to understand that he didn’t want attachment. I would have to be still,
crouching with my hand out to feed him morsels of affection until he was
sure they weren’t poisoned, that none of this was a trick. Loving Joshua
meant being patient.
I didn’t have much patience left in me.
I shifted onto my side so I could rest a palm on his chest. “That
was…” I let the sentence trail off, unable to find the words to describe that
particular brand of pleasure.
“It wasn’t bad, was it?”
I shot upright with a scowl. “It wasn’t bad?” I hissed, trying to
channel frustration so he wouldn’t see the hurt at those flippant words.
I turned to the fire, hiding my face from him. Quiet laughter from
behind me made me wince. Apparently, I was amusing. Had I really
expected this to be special for him?
 God, I was such an idiot. I kept hoping that I just had to coax Joshua
out more when in reality, there wasn’t anything more for him to give. This
was what he could offer and I couldn’t ask for more because I’d come into
this knowing who he was.
I came back into focus, realizing that Joshua had been saying my
name. “Liv?” He tugged my shoulder, forcing me to meet his eyes. “What is
it you’re always telling me to do? Lighten up.” I nodded meekly and let him
tug me back down onto the rug beside him. “Do you want to know what I
really thought of that?”
“Yes.”
He propped his hands under his head. “For a minute there, I thought
for sure I was dead.”
“Dead?”
“How else did I end up in heaven?”
My lips formed into a tight line as I desperately tried to contain my
reaction. I failed miserably and laughter tumbled from me so hard I snorted.
“That is the cheesiest line I’ve ever heard.”
Joshua sat up to stoke the fire. He was quiet as he added another log
and encouraged the flame to catch. For a second, I was worried that I’d
offended him but when he looked back at me, he was grinning. Joshua was
actually grinning. “You liked it though.”
I returned his smile. “I did.”
We both flopped onto our backs, enjoying the heat of the growing
fire and the sleepy, sated feeling that accompanied making love. Peace
filled the air, replacing the agitating tension that had coiled around us both
all day. I let the silence linger for a long stretch before I decided to be brave
again. We were naked before each other—literally. It couldn’t get any more
vulnerable than that, right?
“Joshua?”
“Hmm?” He hummed sleepily.
“I don’t want that to be a one-time thing.”
He cocked his head to meet my gaze. “You want to do it again? I
thought you might want a little break.”
“No—I mean yes! Not right now.” I hooked my pointer fingers
together and fixated on them as I fidgeted. “I don’t just mean sex. I
mean this.” I gestured between us. “I don’t want to wake up tomorrow and
act like none of this happened. I know this isn’t really your thing—
relationships, I mean—but maybe you haven’t given it a chance? Maybe we
could try…something?”
“Liv,” I let out a startled yelp when Joshua yanked me on top of
him. “I’m an idiot but I’m not that much of an idiot.” I yelped again when
he flipped us, gently pinning me beneath him. “I know I’ve done a lot of
things wrong. I’ve made a lot of mistakes. What I can’t figure out is what
the hell I did right to make you want to stay.” I opened my mouth to
respond but he cut me off with a kiss. “You’re mine. You’ve been mine, I
just didn’t know what to do about it.” He wrapped a big hand around my
jaw. “I wasted so much time pretending like you didn’t matter to me. I don’t
intend to waste any more.”
Twin tears escaped the corners of my eyes before I could blink them
back. Joshua caught one on the tip of his finger and scowled at it. “Is this
one of those times where crying is a good thing?”
“Yes,” I giggled. “Definitely happy tears.”
The silence that resettled between us was a comfortable, sweet
quiet. Our limbs became a tangled mess as I attempted to get as close to
him as possible, soaking in his warmth and feeling elated that I had the
freedom to touch him. My fingers were following a lazy path between his
ribs when I drifted off to sleep.
I roused later to Joshua carefully placing me on the mattress. I
choked back the disappointment that tried to set in my chest when I felt his
looming presence vanish from the side of the bed. A moment later the
opposing side lurched under his weight, then a warm chest came against my
back.
I turned in his arms, catching his face between my palms. He
blinked heavily, another part of himself he usually wouldn’t let me see. I
laid a soft kiss on his lips, then another on his cheek, before quietly
whispering, “You’re mine too.”

[Link]
 31
Canyon Heart
Joshua
Joshua jerked awake, adrenaline punching him in the chest and making
his heart race. A tangle of quilt wrapped his legs like a bug in a spider’s
web, nearly sending him toppling to the floor when he tried to get up.
Where the hell was he?
Oh. Damn. Right. In bed. In bed with Liv after stripping her down in
front of the fire and making love to her until she was drowsy and limp in his
arms. Making love to her.
Instinctively his hand traveled to the pillow next to him, though he
knew he would find it cold. Off key humming drew his attention to the
kitchen, where Liv was cracking eggs and swaying her hips to whatever
song played in her head. Her long, pale legs were bare, the rest of her
draped in nothing but one of his flannels. The shirt was far too big—she’d
rolled the sleeves up half a hundred times to free her hands—but rather than
finding it unflattering, Joshua was pleased with the sight of her in his
clothes. It fed his ego with a pride that was close enough to proprietary that
he thought it best to keep to himself.
The jolt of panic that initially woke him receded on a heavy sigh.
Joshua reclined with his head propped on his arms, enjoying the view. So
much of their time together had been wasted on cowardice, on him acting
like he was made of stone.
If he was made of stone, she was water, washing over him
continuously, drawing away little bits of his hard exterior day by day until
there was a gaping canyon inside of him. All that wide open space and she
was flowing easily through it, sinking deeper and deeper into his soul with
every rapid.
Joshua quietly untangled himself from the blankets and crept into
the kitchen. Liv yelped, dropping an eggshell when he snaked his arms
around her waist and yanked her back until she pressed against his chest.
“Holy cow!” She panted. “You scared me.”
 He couldn’t hold back his chuckle. “Holy cow? What self-respecting
person over the age of five says holy cow?”
She flicked a glare over her shoulder and wrinkled her nose.
“Maybe I say it because I respect myself. What kind of person would I be if
I went around spewing curse words?” She waved her hand dismissively,
chin jutted up with an air of superiority.
“You’d be a normal fucking person.”
“Joshua!”
He tugged her even closer and pressed his lips to the shell of her ear.
“I think I like hearing my name on your tongue.” His hands drifted down to
her hips and squeezed. “I’d like to hear it again.”
“Oh?” It was more a breath than a word. “How do you intend to
make me say it?”
That was a challenge if he’d ever heard one. Joshua whirled her
around, used one arm to push aside the fixings for breakfast, and hoisted her
up onto the counter. Several items clattered to the floor and what was
probably an egg rolled into the sink.
“Wait, wait, wait!” She giggled. “We’ll burn breakfast.”
“Fuck breakfast.”
Joshua silenced her protest with his lips. Her mouth tasted like the
tart blackberry jam she’d been liberally spreading on hunks of bread while
she cooked. At first, he kept his hands at her back, anchoring her to him and
preventing any attempt at escape. When Liv finally gave in, her delicate
fingers tickling through his beard and threading into his hair, Joshua
relinquished his hold to swiftly unbutton her shirt.
The loose fabric glided down her shoulders to reveal bare breasts.
He unhooked the final button with a satisfied groan. Liv wasn’t
wearing anything but his shirt.
A beautiful blush spread from her cheeks all the way down to her
chest when he stepped back to admire her. Honey blonde hair, tousled and
soft from sleep, shimmered in the firelight. It fell nearly to her stomach,
slipping over her shoulder to hide one breast behind a curtain of gold. Her
hips were plush and seductive, quite a difference from the waifish woman
he brought home earlier that summer. The grey and black flannel draped
halfway down her arms, framing her figure but hiding nothing. He’d
originally intended to remove it but the sight of her changed his mind. She
looked damn beautiful.
 The longer he studied her, the more Liv began to squirm. She’d been
so bold the night before. Now, in the light of day, she was shy. For some
reason that spurred him on. He liked making her feel off kilter. It was only
fair. His entire world was turned upside down thanks to her.
“No.” The word came out sharply when Liv started slipping the shirt
from her body. “Keep it on.”
She frowned, her confused gaze travelling from his face and down
his torso. She took a very long pause when she reached the place between
his legs, her eyes widening with a hint of trepidation. Joshua hadn’t
bothered dressing when he got out of bed, knowing what he intended to do
would warm him up faster than a pair of jeans and a sweater.
“Don’t you think…um,” Liv cleared her throat and forced her chin
back up to find him smirking. “Don’t you think I’m a little overdressed?”
Joshua gripped her thighs and slid her to the very edge of the
counter until she was held up more by the pressure of his body against hers
than the surface beneath her. Her arms tightened around his neck and she let
out a surprised squeak. The sound melted into a quiet moan when he
pressed into her.
“I like you like this.” He answered with a gentle thrust. Liv wriggled
to follow him when he retreated, losing even more purchase on the counter.
She quickly wrapped her legs around his hips to keep herself steady,
successfully locking him in where she wanted him.
Joshua gave her more of the same, slow and gentle. She made an
impatient noise and squeezed him with her thighs. He ignored her,
continuing at his languid pace until he’d worked her into a frustrated frenzy.
In most of their relationship, Liv had the power. He liked to think it was the
other way around, that he was in control, but the truth was that Joshua was
at her mercy. Except, he was finding, when it came to desire. Desire
softened her will until she was supple and ready to do anything to get what
she wanted from him.
“Joshua,” her voice trembled, as did her body.
“Olivia,” he echoed her tone. “You know what I want.”
Fire burned in her green eyes when she lifted them to his. That fire
was burning for him. He was never going to get used to that. With one hand
Joshua gripped the nape of her neck. The other kneaded the flesh of her hip,
using it as leverage when he finally gave in. Her lips parted in a silent cry
and she shuddered.
 So much wasted time. Joshua could have had his hands on her every
day. Every minute of every day if he had his way. He thought intimacy was
a nuisance, a biological function and nothing more. He was so wrong. Each
time he touched her was thrilling, invigorating in an indescribable way. All
the poetry he’d spent his youth reading suddenly made sense. Who
wouldn’t want to write artful words about the weight of her breast in his
palm? The peachy blush of her nipples? The strawberry taste of her kiss?
“Joshua.” It was guttural and a little wild. He liked it when she came
undone.
Why had he ever lied to himself about wanting this? It was worth
the risk. It was worth it if he had to chase her down in the dark every night.
Joshua had heaven between his arms and he was going to worship her.
Especially when his name spilled from her mouth again. And again and
again until they were both at a desperate edge, then frozen in wordless
pleasure.
Liv pressed her forehead over his heart. “I love you.” She breathed
it so quietly he wasn’t certain it was meant for his ears.
Joshua held her to him, trembling from exertion and cold and
satisfaction. He couldn’t say it back. Did he even know what it felt like to
love someone? Whatever he felt for Liv was as close as he’d ever come, but
it wasn’t a sentiment to be thrown around if he didn’t mean it. To Liv, love
was sacred. She cradled that word on her tongue like a prayer.
If he was ever to share that with her, to give her what she wanted to
hear, it could only be genuine. Otherwise he was breaking her heart all over
again.

[Link]
 32
Everything Good

It was an early snow and though it was light, Joshua assured me that
it was a sign winter would be early too. This would be our very last trip to
market until the spring thaw. Even then, our trips were likely to become
scarcer. Joshua was a decent mechanic but there was only so much he could
do to keep that old Chevy running. The supply of motor oil and other
necessary parts was dwindling, even in the seediest trading posts. Not to
mention, gasoline was becoming scarce.
Today I was hoping for a peaceful trip. I wanted to enjoy my last
visit with the people that were quickly becoming my friends. I enjoyed my
time with Joshua, but it was nice to be out in the world. Going to town
made me feel normal. It wasn’t quite a trip to the mall or going out for
brunch with friends but it was the closest we could get in these desperate
times.
The fit of my pack was more awkward sitting atop my jacket and all
my other layers. Still, I was impressed with myself. Several months ago, I
could barely carry a backpack full of clothing and empty food wrappers. I’d
come a long way. I shot a furtive of glance in Joshua’s direction and smiled
to myself. We’d both come a long way.
We walked in silence, as we usually did. The gentle drift of snow
around us seemed to mute the world. Even our foot falls on dead leaves
sounded softer. It was going to be a cold winter. By the end I was sure I
would really miss hot showers and central heating, but I couldn’t wait for
the beauty of snow. The delicate flakes were ethereal, dusting the forest in
glittering white.
The road was almost in sight when Joshua froze. He lifted his face,
nostrils flaring as he scented the wind. His head tilted like a curious animal
and once again I found myself imagining him as a large cat. I knew better
than to ask what had him on alert. Whatever it was, it was close. It didn’t
seem to be an animal. Skilled as he may be, I was fairly certain Joshua
couldn’t smell a bear on the wind.
 With careful precision, Joshua removed his pack and leaned it
against a tree. He pressed a pointer finger to his lips and urged me to do the
same. Once my bag was on the ground, he took my hand, crouching and
slowly trailing us between trees. We only moved another ten feet before I
smelled it. Smoke.
Then there were the voices. I couldn’t say how many men were
casually talking, their conversation interspersed with boisterous laughter
and the clattering of gear. People were cautious these days. If they were
making this much noise, then they had a big enough group that they weren’t
afraid of being found.
Joshua ‘s grip on my hand tightened along with his jaw. He drew us
just a little closer, his breath shallow. There had to be at least thirty of them.
Well-equipped men, some of them in hunting gear and camouflage. There
was a rifle or two slung over shoulders and a handful of handguns on hips
but most sported hunting knives and machetes. My gut twisted at the site
and a shiver took my body that had nothing to do with the cold.
We were looking at a camp of raiders and they were barely more
than a mile from town. By the looks of it, they would be arriving by dark.
I had to stifle a gasp when suddenly Joshua jerked my arm, tugging
me quietly but frantically back to our packs. He didn’t give me a chance to
put my pack back on, yanking both up off the ground and precariously
throwing one over each shoulder. The silence, which had moments ago been
beautiful and peaceful, was deafening as he marched back the way we
came.
“Joshua!” I hissed. He ignored me.
Panting from my rush to keep up with his long stride, I hurried in
front of him and put out a hand. We had to have walked half a mile in less
than five minutes at this pace. By now, we were hopefully far enough away
that no one would hear us. “Where are you going?”
“Home.” He grunted and skirted around me.
I planted my feet and lifted my chin, refusing to take another step.
Joshua got several paces ahead before he turned around and realized I
wasn’t with him.
“‘The hell are you doing?”
“We can’t go home.” I gestured behind us. “They’re going to
Rockham Falls. We have to warn them!”
 “They have walls and guns. The militia can handle raiders.” He
dismissed me and turned back onto his trail.
“They don’t know what’s coming. They’re unprepared! I’ve seen
what happens when raiders catch people off guard. I can’t let that happen. I
won’t run, not again.” That was what I was always doing. I ran from
Seattle, I ran when raiders attacked my group, I ran from Wheeler’s men—I
even ran from Joshua! When things got rough, I fled like a coward.
Not this time.
“We go to town now, there’s no getting out before those raiders
show up. For all we know, they’re already on their way there. Did you see
that camp? They have four wheelers, horses, everything they need to get to
Rockham Falls in two minutes.” He rocked on his feet, the only visible sign
of his anxiety. “We could end up between them and town. I’m not taking
that risk.”
“I am.”
Joshua pivoted, his face full of thunder. “You get your skinny ass on
this trail or I will haul you home.”
I matched his steely gaze. “Joshua, I’m doing this. I won’t let
innocent people die.” My voice rose to a hysterical note but I didn’t care.
He was wasting precious time.
He dropped both packs and marched toward me, fully intending to
throw me over his shoulder and carry me back to the cabin if that was what
it took. “Olivia,” he growled.
I pressed my palms to his chest. “Don’t you dare.”
Anger puffed from his nostrils in a steamy cloud. I met his eyes.
There was familiar rage swirling in that dark umber but there was
something else too, something I was sure that only I would recognize; fear.
I didn’t blame him. I was afraid too, absolutely and utterly terrified.
That wasn’t going to stop me from doing the right thing.
I had to be brave for all of the innocent people trying to rebuild. I
had to be brave for the bank teller turned farmer, the hardware store owner
sewing clothes for women and children, for the people that took up arms to
defend their families. I had to be brave for little girls that liked hot cider and
Taylor Swift. If I wasn’t, they would die. Or worse.
“Liv,” Joshua gentled his voice, wrapping his hands around mine.
They were warm despite the frigid air. “I can’t let you risk your life over
this.” He squeezed his eyes shut and whispered, “I can’t.”
 I brought one hand to my face and pressed my lips to his knuckles.
“It’s not your choice to make. I have to do this. Otherwise, what’s the point?
What’s the point of living if there’s nothing left to live for? Why survive if
everything good is gone?”
Joshua inhaled, his gaze tracing my face, undefinable emotions
drawing tight lines across his features. With each passing moment his scowl
grew deeper until his eyes were so shadowed, they almost matched the
black of his hair.
“Liv, I—” whatever it was that he planned to say, Joshua cut it off so
abruptly that his teeth clipped together. He removed his hands from mine
and rub them vigorously over his face. “I won’t let you die for strangers.”
“They’re not strangers, Joshua!” I pushed past him and grabbed my
pack, unzipping it and pulling out the gun he had me carry. Unfortunately,
those shooting lessons were probably going to come in handy.
“Olivia, please.” It was the please that gave me pause. The words
that left his mouth next were quiet and fragile, almost lost to the wind.
“You’re everything good I have.”
I smiled softly at him. “Then come with me. We can do this
together.”
Then I shouldered my pack and took off at a jog toward Rockham
Falls before he could stop me. No more running away.

[Link]
 33
The Enemy of My Enemy
Joshua
“Close the gate!” Liv shouted to the militia stationed on the
makeshift watch towers that guarded the road into town. Joshua rushed
behind her, trying to clap a hand over her mouth to quiet her. The last thing
they needed was the raiders to know they’d been spotted.
Liv dodged Joshua’s hand and rushed through the gate. He barely
managed to catch her around the waist before she began ascending the
ladder that led to the watchtowers. Both militia, bewildered and obviously
cowards if they felt threatened by the slip of a woman, had shifted, weapons
pointed directly down at her.
“You have to close the gate!” She panted, struggling against
Joshua’s hold. “There are raiders coming.”
“Raiders?” One militia, a young man around his age—James
maybe?—turned to glance back at the road. The snow had ceased but there
was a thin layer of white coating the asphalt. A quarter mile down the road,
the collection of cars that made up the roadblock was just in sight. There
was no sign of anyone approaching—yet.
“Where? How many? Are you sure they’re headed this way?” The
other militia asked, his gun still trained on Liv.
Joshua stepped in front of her and glowered at the man. “You’re
going to fucking kill someone. Point that shit somewhere else!”
The man returned Joshua’s glare and lowered the barrel of his rifle,
but not enough that he couldn’t still hit them. “Where the hell do you think
you saw raiders?”
“Oh, for fudge sake!” Joshua was absolutely seething, but Liv’s
non-curse almost drew a surprised laugh out of him.
While the men were distracted by their standoff, she dropped her
pack and began tugging on one side of the heavy wooden gate. Each side
was made of up eight logs, requiring at least two strong men to move them.
There was no way in hell she had a chance of shutting it on her own but
damn if she wasn’t determined. As she should be. They could be under
attack any minute and all three men were wasting their time with posturing.
Joshua was still convinced they were wasting their lives even being
here.
He hurried over to help her regardless of his reservations. “Get your
ass down here and close this gate!” He grunted at the militia. “You’ve got
almost three dozen raiders on your doorstep and they’re gearing up for a
fight.” Going against every screaming instinct to keep Liv in sight, the next
words had to be choked out. “Liv, take your pack and go tell the Flores.”
She studied him, her face pink from effort and cold. “Are you sure?”
“Go!” He boomed.
“Find me!” She called over her shoulder as she trotted off.
Joshua did exactly that five minutes later. A small crowd had
gathered around Liv as she frantically waved her hands in front of Flores.
Wheeler and two of his men stood beside the mayor, their expressions
varying shades of disbelief. Flores looked like he was only taking her
slightly more seriously. Why weren’t they alarmed? Militia or not, this town
was not prepared for a raid in its current state.
The market was packed today, filled with people anxious to get as
many supplies as they could before winter barred most of the outside
traders from returning until spring. Joshua spotted children, unarmed
women, and several older folks. These were the people Liv wanted to
protect and they were staring at her like she was crazy.
Her frantic chattering paused when Joshua came up behind her and
rested a gentle hand on her shoulder. Green eyes found his, swimming with
frustrated tears and beseeching him to help her.
“Are you sure they were raiders? Not travelers seeking shelter from
the snow?” Flores asked Joshua. Liv bristled beside him but kept her mouth
shut.
“Oh, I’m sure they’re seeking shelter from the snow. All thirty of
‘em, with ATVs and enough weapons to kill half the people in this town
before you’ve pulled your pistol. Harmless.” He loomed over the mayor and
watched with a little too much satisfaction as the man paled. “Do I look like
I’d risk my fucking life to warn you about some grannies in covered
wagons bumping along the Oregon trail?”
“You’re not exactly the most altruistic neighbor we have, son.” It
was Wheeler who responded. “We just had to make sure you two weren’t
stirring up trouble for the hell of it.”
The crowd around them, which had grown considerably, rumbled
with murmurs of uncertainty and fear. Several people began packing up
bags and wagons, preparing to make a swift exit.
“Gate’s already closed.” Joshua warned them. “Best thing to do is
ready your weapons and find somewhere to wait it out. You’ve got about
four hours before sundown. I reckon you’ll have raiders on your doorstep
by then.”
He wasn’t surprised by some of the strange looks thrown his way.
Wheeler was right about Joshua. There was scarcely an altruistic bone in his
body. On his own, Joshua probably wouldn’t have wasted his breath trying
to save these fools. It was only because of Liv that he was here, only
because of her that he’d done any good in his life. She was his moral
compass and according to her, this was north.
The chaos was slow building. It started with a handful of people
quietly slipping off toward the other side of town. There were plenty of
ways in and out. Rockham Falls wasn’t completely walled in. Joshua could
almost smell the sour stench of fear in the air. It carried on the wind,
alerting some animal instinct until the whole market was abuzz with
anxious people scurrying to make their escape.
Voices rose above the frantic crowd, shouting orders and trying to
keep people from trampling each other. It took fifteen minutes and several
armed militia to quiet the residents who had nowhere else to go but
eventually the scene calmed enough for Flores to start organizing.
The off duty militia and those that weren’t guarding the wall made a
half circle around the mayor. Some of them were twice Joshua’s age, some
of them not yet old enough to shave. He didn’t doubt that they were skilled
with their weapons—using a hunting rifle was second nature to most
country folks—but he wasn’t confident they’d survive against a machete.
Hopefully they were stocked with ammo, or else they might not be as
evenly matched with raiders as Joshua assumed.
For once, he had to acknowledge the value of Wheeler and his men.
They were well equipped and eager for a fight. He would just have to be
careful not to turn his back to any of them. Not-so-friendly fire was not how
he planned to go.
“Joshua,” Flores pulled him aside and lowered his voice. “We could
really use you.”
 He couldn’t hide the irritation in his voice when he muttered, “I’m
here until this is done.”
Flores’s eyes skirted over Liv, who was watching them curiously.
“The church is equipped to be a safehouse. I’ve got six men stationed there
to protect families and anyone who isn’t prepared to fight.”
Joshua gave a grateful nod, understanding precisely what the mayor
was telling him without outright saying it. He took Liv’s hand and silently
began leading her through the throngs of people. They slowed enough to let
people pass in front of them. It was his hope that they could be the last to
arrive. Harder for her to make a scene then.
If she wouldn’t forgive him for dragging her back home, she likely
wouldn’t be too forgiving of this either. That was fine. He could live with
her resentment so long as she was still living.
“Where are we going?” Joshua didn’t answer. “Shouldn’t we stay
close to the wall?” Damn woman thought she was going to fight off raiders.
There was brave and then there was reckless. Liv was walking the line.
They stalled outside the double doors. The sky, already overcast and
dim, was quickly greying. There were a few hours before sunset but this
time of year the days were dark. Men raced to light fires along the wall and
in the town center. They would improve visibility but not by much. Even in
the best case scenario, Joshua knew there would be a lot of bloodshed when
those raiders arrived.
“Joshua? What’s going on?” Liv tugged his attention back to her.
“Show me your gun.” She dutifully reached around her back and
pulled out the handgun from her concealed holster. “Good. Keep it on your
person. Anyone you don’t recognize comes at you, shoot them.”
“Anyone? Joshua, I only know half the people in this town!”
Joshua gripped her shoulders, probably too hard, and trapped her in
his steely gaze. “You want to save people? That means killing people,
Olivia. That’s what those raiders are coming to do. I know you know that.
Don’t get squeamish on me, Squirrel. This is the world now.”
Shock widened those beautiful green eyes before reality registered
with a quick sheen of tears. She blinked them away and nodded resolutely.
“People are going to die.”
“They are. It’s us or it’s them. That’s what we walked into. That’s
the choice we made by coming here.”
 “I hate it.” She whispered. “But I’ll live with the guilt if it means we
save innocent people.”
Joshua pressed his lips to her forehead. He paused to soak up the
feel of her skin, to inhale the faint strawberry scent of her hair, to wonder at
the feathery, soft feeling that puffed up in his chest when she returned his
affection. Never in this life would he understand why she wanted him.
Joshua didn’t deserve Liv. It was obvious to him and everyone that looked
at them.
There had to be a reason for this. He’d thought as much the moment
he found her in those woods. Joshua didn’t often think of a higher power
anymore. As a child he couldn’t stomach the thought of an all knowing
father who would allow his misery, so he imagined that God was a myth.
Only, he’d never truly believed that.
When he found Liv all those months ago, he thought it was God
giving him a chance to do some good. Now he understood that taking care
of her wasn’t the sole good he was meant to do. Joshua didn’t want to be
here sticking his neck out for other people, but he was. Just like he’d made
more trips to town than he really needed and traded with folks because he
knew they could use his supplies and not because they had anything for
him.
None of it was out of the goodness of his heart, though it was driven
by the heart. Every sacrifice he made, every uncharacteristic kindness he
offered, was for her. Liv was his redemption. He wasn’t a good man, but
Liv made him into one. She made him want to be one.
So, there he was, doing the right thing. He could only do it if he
knew she was safe.
“Why are we here?” Liv’s brow was still crinkled, her confusion
only heightened by his unusual display of affection.
“Safety.” He grunted, taking her hand and nearly dragging her
through the church doors.
“Safety? Joshua, we need to be out there! You know how to protect
yourself.”
“And you don’t.”
Liv stumbled down the basement stairs so he lifted her and carried
her the rest of the way. By that point she began to realize what he intended
to do and kicked her legs wildly. Joshua took a good hit in the shin but
didn’t stop until she was in the doorway of one of the meeting rooms.
Huddles of families, old folks, and men unequipped to fight stared wide-
eyed at the scene. Normally Joshua would have balked at drawing so much
attention. He couldn’t be bothered to care right now.
Several militia were stationed outside the door. One man, clad in
worn jeans and a black leather jacket with club patches that belied his
history, cleared his throat and gave Joshua a disapproving scowl. As much
as Joshua wanted to deck the man, he had to concede that the situation
looked bad. Damn woman flailed in his arms, yelling and pointing angrily
at the room.
Whatever she was saying, Joshua didn’t hear it. Liv froze when he
covered her downturned mouth with his, giving her a final, forceful kiss
before shoving her into the meeting room and slamming the door. She was
still shouting from the other side, her tiny fists pounding uselessly against
the door when she found she couldn’t turn the handle.
“You let her out, I’m coming for you when this is done.” Joshua
turned a scowl on the six militia lingering in the hall. They bore wary
expressions as they watched him hold the door shut. He narrowed his eyes,
daring them to defy him.
“Keys?” Unless the raiders managed to set a brick building on fire,
the room would be better protected if it was locked. The man in the leather
jacket handed Joshua a hefty key ring. He had to try three keys before he
found one that fit, twisting until he felt a click. He wasn’t foolish enough to
believe a door could keep a motivated group of raiders out but he was
determined to make sure not a single one of them made it that far.

◆◆◆

A thick fog of tension shrouded the air in the town center. The sun
had set hours earlier, leaving no light but the barrel fires and the faint
shimmer of stars through the clouds. It was a good night for a raid,
assuming the town was unprepared. Thanks to Liv, they wouldn’t be.
When dusk had come and gone with no sign of raiders, the militia
became cagey. What reason Joshua would have to lie about an impending
raid, he couldn’t say. That didn’t stop the accusations from flying. They
lasted a few short minutes before Flores’s scout returned, pale and
breathless.
 One cue, there was a shout from the main gate. Raiders had arrived,
but not where and how they were expected.
The armed men that presented themselves to the guards at the gate
were clearly familiar with the defenses. They approached with their
weapons holstered and sheathed, hands high in the air. Joshua couldn’t hear
what was being said but it was clear that they were claiming innocence and
begging entrance.
The first shot came from the east end of town, where the woods
were thickest at the perimeter and the wall ended in the trees. There was a
painful stretch of silence following the single echoing boom before the
tightly strung men exploded into action. One of the militia stationed over
the gate fell to Joshua ‘s right now. Several more shots rang out and the
distinct sound of scuffling on concrete drew his attention.
Smoke and darkness made for poor visibility. The dark colors and
camo donned by the raiders didn’t help. They easily made it past the
perimeter guard. One look at the large swell of men and Joshua realized this
wouldn’t be a raid. This would be a battle.
And, he realized with a stomach churning chill, he might be on the
losing side.
The group Joshua scouted on the outskirts of town was incomplete.
Far more than thirty men were violently making their way through the
town. It was common knowledge that raiders were forming packs and
becoming more organized as resources became scarce and territory was
claimed in big cities. A raid was always anticipated, which was why the
mayor formed the militia. What wasn’t anticipated was that the men doing
the raiding would have amassed a small army.
Fortunately, waging war during the end of the world meant
ammunition was finite, making it harder for men to drop each other from
the shadows. Unfortunately, the militia were far more trigger happy than the
raiders and were quickly running out of bullets. Joshua was careful and
precise when he took his first shot. In the dark it was difficult to discern
friend from foe. The militia wore black and red patches on their arms but
even those were nearly invisible in the moonless night.
Wheeler’s men were impossible to tell apart from raiders, except
that most of them weren’t wielding the machetes that raiders had adopted as
their signature weapon. When Joshua fired his second shot, he wasn’t
entirely sure it was a raider he clipped. He didn’t really care, either. If the
world was short one more raping, thieving, murdering asshole, no one
would be grieving.
The longer the fighting went on, the more chaotic the square
became. The occasional flash of a gun muzzle lit up the shadows but
otherwise, he could scarcely see who was doing what anymore. Careful to
keep to the edge of the wall, Joshua backpedaled closer and closer to the
church. There was no way to tell who was winning and who was dying.
There were bodies on the ground everywhere, half of them groaning in pain
as they desperately tried to drag themselves to the safety of a building or to
lean up against a wall.
No matter how this ended, the aftermath would be tragic.
Joshua had killed men before, but never like this. He was a hunter,
swift, silent, and lethal. Every man he’d kill hadn’t seen it coming until it
was far too late for them to act. This situation required his focus to be in
five places at once, his gaze darting back and forth, the hairs on the back of
his neck prickling as he felt the potential for an ambush constantly growing.
John might have trained him, prepared him with all the tactical skills a
young man could need for the end of days, but he could never have been
mentally prepared.
The stress of it was wearing on him, his adrenaline quickly
dissipating and leaving him disoriented. He wasn’t unfazed by the death
either. Though he had grown up witnessing death, had seen it at his own
hand, this was different. This was horrific. This made him finally
understand the hatred Liv had for the new order of the world.
So many unnecessary deaths. So many people gone in an instant
because every man was fighting for his own instead of fighting for each
other. It was a true tragedy and Joshua would never erase the images seared
into his mind. The only way out of this was to harden himself. It proved
more difficult than it should have. He had exposed that soft spot, opened up
a vulnerability, and he was struggling to cover it again.
A sudden weight struck him in the shoulder, knocking his rifle from
his hold and nearly toppling him. The man that hit him was smaller and
leaner but he had the element of surprise. Too late, Joshua remembered why
John raised him to be cold. To feel was a weakness and it just might be the
death of him.
The rifle skittered across the concrete, just out of reach. His next move was
swift and practiced, his left hand sweeping to his lower back and reaching
for the handgun he kept strapped there. Unfortunately, practice didn’t mean
success in a real fight. The man, who Joshua recognized in a fleeting glance
as one of Wheeler’s boys, slammed into him. They both went down,
pinning the gun behind Joshua’s back.
A fist clipped his chin as he rolled, narrowly avoiding smashing his
head into the concrete and instead taking the impact on his shoulder. The
move put him under Wheeler’s man, still heavy even if Joshua did have the
size advantage, but he was almost close enough to reach the rifle now.
He twisted and bucked sideways, throwing his opponent off just
enough to bellycrawl forward toward the rifle. His other arm, which
instinctively reached for his handgun again, was pinned under the other
man’s knee. A booted foot crunched down on Joshua’s forearm and
followed the move with a kick to his jaw. Joshua’s head flipped sideways
with a sick snap and he flopped limply onto his back, vision dotting with
stars.
His reaction to the next attack was slow but not so slow that he
ended up with a cracked nose or putty for brains. Joshua yanked the other
man’s ankle just as a foot came down over his face.
“Son of a bitch!” He grunted when he tumbled forward, landing
with his knee in Joshua’s gut.
Breathless, bleeding, and throbbing with pain in rather important
places, Joshua used his fading stamina to swing his elbow toward the other
man’s nose. Wheeler’s man was leaning back, reaching for some weapon on
his belt, and only caught the elbow in a glancing blow. Seconds later a
hunting knife was flying toward his chest.
John taught Joshua that a knife should be his last resort weapon in
close combat. It was too easy for your opponent to turn it on you or to cut
yourself “like a damn fool.” They’d spent many mornings wrestling in the
grass when Joshua was a boy. John bested him every time until he was
thirteen and could match his father in strength and size. By the time he was
fifteen, John had ceased lessons that required too much contact, well aware
that his son towered over him and would likely crush him.
In the years leading up to that, however, Joshua had earned many
scars. John always insisted they train with real weapons to keep Joshua
from “pussying out.” He’d once thought his father cruel. Now, he had to
wonder if there was a method to the man’s madness.
 Joshua wrapped his thick hands around the other man’s wrist and
pushed down with all the strength he had left. They were both quickly
growing tired, but Wheeler’s man showed impressive resistance. With a
grunt, his arms gave and the knife sank into the side of his thigh. It was a
painful wound but probably not fatal.
Out of the corner of his eye Joshua caught sight of a second man
approaching. Light from the nearest barrel fire flickered across his face,
which was filthy and spattered with blood. The machete in his hand sported
matching red stains. The world seemed to slow, every flex of muscle on the
raider’s arms notable, the tendons rippling in the neck of the man atop him
as they strained in pain.
Joshua had heard this was what it was like, that final moment before
it was over. Life whizzed by like a truck at ninety miles an hour until
suddenly, with no warning, it lurched to a halt. He knew this was a potential
outcome tonight, maybe understood that it was a definite. That was why
he’d done his best to keep Liv out of it. Damn stubborn woman would have
gotten herself killed.
And she didn’t deserve to watch him die.
That thought was a hundred pounds of sickening dread on his chest,
making his stomach churn and his body go cold. Were the raiders
overpowering them? Was this the end for them all? What would happen to
Liv when he was gone? Who would look out for her? Joshua couldn’t bear
to think of the outcome if raiders got ahold of her.
Please God, don’t let them have her.
Then there was another brief thought, one he never would have
entertained if not for his predicament. Why was life so unfair? Why was it
always so unfair? He’d suffered through John’s reign for nearly twenty five
years and finally, finally, found something good. Now it was over when it
had only just begun? A curse as foul as they came left his lips, a curse for a
God above that must be sadistic and hateful.
The sound barely escaped him when a real weight came down on his
chest. His ears were ringing as the next shot rang out. A machete clattered
to the ground, the noise distant and muffled. There was another shot, then
another and another until whoever was shooting had emptied their
magazine.
Just about every part of him hurt. More stars danced in his eyes,
blurring his vision, and, as his consciousness faded, he briefly wondered if
he’d been shot.

[Link]
 34
Sacrifices
Joshua
“Stupid, stupid man.” A familiar voice sobbed as a weight left
Joshua’s chest, making his lungs inflate like bellows.
He blinked rapidly, momentarily unsure of where he was and how
long he’d been there. Tiny, warm hands were tugging his forearm, trying to
move him with absolutely no success. The feel of those hands was the only
proof that he was even alive.
Unless this was heaven. Though, if it were, he was fairly certain Liv
would be much more naked and she would be using words much worse than
“stupid.” It was possible he was in hell—that would explain the pain. Hell
would be a well-deserved sentence for him.
“Son of bunny, you are so flipping heavy, Joshua.”
Yup, definitely hell.
He must have said it aloud because a tearful Liv snapped back, “You
shut your mouth! You are not in hell because you’re not dead!” She ceased
tugging on his arm and kneeled beside him. It was cold out but not nearly
cold enough for her to be shaking as violently as she was. “Can you hear
me? Where are you hurt? Can you move? You’re bleeding! Oh God, where
else are you bleeding?”
“Slow down, woman.” He grunted, twin pains shooting down his
neck and through the shoulder he landed on when he sat up.
“Wait, don’t sit up! What if you’re concussed? Or have internal
bleeding? I didn’t see what happened.” She was becoming hysterical.
“Where are you hurt?” She repeated on a shaky breath.
“Stop fussing.” A shot cracked through the air, far too close for
comfort, and sent enough adrenaline coursing through Joshua ‘s veins to
snap him out of the fog. Unfortunately, the adrenaline did very little for the
throbbing pain in his jaw. Hopefully nothing was broken.
“Joshua!” Liv pulled one of his eyelids back to check his pupils.
 “I’m fine!” Not entirely the truth but they needed to move. Being
out in the open was a death sentence so long as there were still raiders with
guns around. Or Wheeler’s men. He thought with bitter rage.
“You’re bleeding!”
“Where is Wheeler’s man? And the other one?”
The question was answered for him before Liv could speak.
Crumpled on the ground just beside him was the man who had been
pummeling him moments earlier. A few feet away was a raider, his chest
riddled with bullet holes. Was it wrong to be a little proud of the grouping?
Joshua wasn’t sure.
The only thing he was sure of was that Liv wouldn’t be okay after
this. Not for a while, anyway.
“I guess now we’re even.” He mumbled. Immediately Joshua
regretted his words. Yes, she saved his life just as he had saved hers, but at
what cost? She’d already seen so much, lived so much. He wanted to
protect her from this, wanted to protect her from having to make that
choice. For him, it was easy—probably too easy. For Liv, it would weigh on
her for the rest of her life.
“They’re dead. I shot them. I killed them.” The trembling in her
hands worsened. “I killed them.” She repeated.
“Get my rifle and get up.” He didn’t have the luxury of comforting
her now.
She obeyed, offering her free hand to help him off the ground. It
didn’t bode well that he needed to take it. She was right, he could be
concussed. He was definitely bleeding and at least one of his ribs was
cracked.
Joshua gritted his teeth and ignored the pain, focusing all of his
remaining strength on dragging Liv—she was struggling to stay upright
worse than him—around the side of the nearest building and behind an old
transformer. He winced when he crouched. His rib smarted again as he
lowered Liv down beside him and took the rifle from her. She was in no
shape to use it.
“Joshua?”
“Shhh. You did good, Squirrel.” He repositioned himself so he could
look at her. “And it was damn stupid. I’m pissed as hell at you right now,
woman. How did you even get out here?”
 “I climbed through the basement window.” Of course, she did. The
color returned to her cheeks, along with a deep scowl. “You’re mad at me? I
just saved your life!” A tiny hand came up to cover her mouth when she
realized how loud she was speaking. “If either of us gets to be angry, it’s
me. You locked me in a room with a bunch of old people.”
“To keep you safe!”
“If I’m going to risk my life, it’s my choice. You do not get to make
that decision for me.” She actually stomped her foot.
“I’m always going to make that decision, even if you hate me for it.”
“Why? What gives you the right?”
Joshua was trapped in her demanding gaze. There was a familiar fire
in those ocean eyes. She was furious. And scared. Even as she admonished
him, there were tears gathering on her bottom lids.
He took a deep breath and answered more honestly than he thought
himself capable, with words he never believed he would say to anyone.
“Why? Because I’m pretty damn sure I’m in love with you. Maybe that
doesn’t give me the right, but nothing is going to stop me. Do you
understand? I have to. You’re everything I’ve got, Liv, and I am not
watching you die out here. I’m not worrying about the hundred horrible
things those men could do to you. I couldn’t live with myself if I let you put
yourself in the middle of this and get hurt.” He rubbed a rough palm over
his face and immediately regretted it when painful heat burned up the side
of his jaw. “Fuck!”
Liv leaned over and grabbed his hand with both of hers, pressing her
thumbs in the center of his palm and rubbing gently. A soft, innocent smile
played on her lips. “I shouldn’t be smiling right now.”
His own lips twitched. “You laughed when I told you that I’d killed
men. I’m not sure which of us is more fucked up.”
“I’m not fudged up,” she said seriously.
Joshua had to suppress a chuckle, almost letting his twisted sense of
humor get the better of him. Liv shot two men dead not twenty minutes
earlier, yet she still refused to dirty her mouth. Such a strange, stubborn,
perfect woman.
They quieted, the silence between them feeling light for the first
time since Liv’s wild declaration of love. It helped that their surroundings
had grown mostly still, the chaos coming to an abrupt halt. Even when it
seemed the action was over, Joshua kept them hidden. There was no way to
know which side, if any, had won and he couldn’t take any chances. Not
when neither of them was in a good state to defend themselves.
Fluffy flakes of snow had begun to fall sometime during the night. It
was a little too warm for them to stick, which meant fat clumps were
collecting on their clothes only to melt and slowly soak through. The sky
was showing the faintest hint of grey, dawn finally making an appearance
after a hellish night, but there was no sign of anyone in the street. Joshua
wasn’t keen on giving away their location but he was acutely aware of Liv’s
increasingly forceful shivering.
“What do we do?” She leaned up to whisper in his ears. When her
nose made contact with his neck it was so cold that he hissed.
“We wait.”
“Do you think…” she swallowed and pulled her knees to her chest.
“Do you think everyone is okay?”
It was the kind of question that reminded him just how naïve she
could be. Liv wanted the world to be better than it was. She wanted to
believe that nothing bad could happen to good people, even though she’d
repeatedly seen contrary.
“No.” His response was blunt. “I don’t know if anyone is okay.”
Liv cast her gaze to her shoes and sighed heavily. Joshua expected
tears any moment, maybe a total breakdown, but it never came. She was
always surprising him. She tilted her head to rest it on his shoulder and said,
“You’re okay.” When he didn’t reply she nudged him and asked “You are
okay, right? Joshua? Tell me you’re okay.”
He answered by lifting her into his lap. The weight of her against his
chest made his ribs ache but not nearly as much as the undiluted fear in her
voice. It wasn’t until she slipped her arms under his jacket and he felt the
heat of her breath on his neck that he realized how cold he’d gotten. Neither
of them could stay out there much longer, not if they weren’t moving.
On cue, a familiar voice echoed through the center of town. Joshua
carefully extricated Liv and leaned around the side of the building. The
mayor was decked out in tactical gear that read “Sheriff’s Department”
across the back. He held a rifle and wore a handgun and a taser on his hip.
Beside him was a handful of militia men, some of them looking much
worse for wear but none of them were bleeding too heavily. The mayor
appeared to be doing roll call of his men.
 Joshua let out a breath he’d been holding since yesterday afternoon
and led Liv out from their hiding place. When he noticed Wheeler and two
of his men joining the mayor, he made a point to stand tall, despite the
stabbing pain he felt in his rib with every step. Not a single person made it
through the night unscathed. There were bruises and bleeding wounds,
some serious enough they could prove fatal if not attended to soon.
The sun crept along the horizon, unable to penetrate the thick cloud
cover but offering enough light to reveal the carnage left by a night of
battle. Bodies littered the road, blood quickly cooling and congealing in the
frigid weather. Joshua didn’t know how many men had come to raid the
town or how many militia there were to defend it but it looked like half a
hundred people had died. It would take days to gather up the dead and they
would have to work swiftly to beat the weather.
Fortunately, none of that was Joshua’s problem. He only had one
concern and she was huddled beside him.
“Don’t look.” He instructed when they stepped out into the open.
Liv shook her head and did exactly that. “I have to. It’s our
responsibility to bear witness, to remember them.”
Her steps faltered as she gazed upon the gore. For a heartbeat there
was a look in her eyes that he was sure matched the looks of soldiers
returning from war-torn countries, a look that no young woman should ever
have, but it vanished almost as fast as it appeared. She closed her eyes and
swallowed hard before reaching for his hand and squeezing it.
“You’re okay.” She whispered more to herself than to him.
“We both are.”

◆◆◆

“You sure you won’t stay?” The mayor asked Joshua again as he
carefully pulled his backpack over his shoulder.
The basement of the church and several outbuildings had been made
into housing for people that chose to settle in town and those that were
passing through. We’d both been awake for twenty four hours and though
he was trying to hide it, it was clear that Joshua needed rest.
I understood why he didn’t want to wait. There was a small risk of
running into the few raiders that had escaped. To Joshua, that was nothing
compared to the risk of not making it home. The snow had begun to fall
quite steadily and we would be lucky if we made it back to the farm without
getting stuck or frozen.
By the way Joshua was eyeing Wheeler and the three armed men
flanking him, I could see that there was more than one reason he didn’t feel
safe staying in town.
I was just as ready to be home as he was but that didn’t stop me
from worrying. He was favoring his left side and it was obvious that his
pack was too heavy for his injuries. My pack was also full, far too full for
me to offer to take any of his load.
“We’re good.” Joshua grunted.
“If you’re sure. I can’t thank you enough. If you hadn’t come to
warn us… We owe you a great deal, Joshua.”
“Not my choice. It was all her.” Joshua jerked his thumb in my
direction, obviously uncomfortable with gratitude. God forbid they got the
impression he might actually want to help anyone.
Mayor Flores turned his attention on me, his expression somber.
“You saved a lot of lives.”
“We have to take care of each other.” I answered simply.
“Otherwise, what’s the point?”
Joshua tried to guide me to the gate but I stopped him and shifted
directions. He was confused and more than a little grumpy when I took his
hand and dragged him back to the church.
“Liv, we’re not staying.” I could tell he was going for stern but there was a
hint of doubt in his words. “Do you want to stay?”
“No.” My response didn’t seem to satisfy him but he said nothing
else.
It took me a minute to navigate through the church but it wasn’t
long before I found my target. Asher was waiting with his sister and several
other families. Tears were being shed, prayers quietly wept. I couldn’t bear
to look upon the faces of those who would be grieving for lost loved ones.
Without a word I waved Asher over and unzipped Joshua’s
backpack. Before Joshua could protest, I tugged the strap off his shoulder
and lowered it to the ground. Both men voiced confusion—and a few curse
words—when I started to stack wrapped packages of dried venison, small
squashes, a cabbage, potatoes, apples, and several bags of nuts on a church
pew. It was most of the contents of Joshua ‘s backpack. Mine was still full,
leaving us ample supplies if we got lost on the way and had to take shelter.
“Liv, we can’t possibly take all of this.” Asher balked.
Joshua began to speak but I interrupted him. “You can and you will.
Share it with whoever needs it. Consider it a Christmas gift.”
“Olivia.” That was the sole protest Joshua offered, even though I
was breaking one of his biggest rules. It spoke volumes about how
exhausted and injured he really was. I was beginning to worry he couldn’t
make the trek home, even with an empty pack.

[Link]
 35
Promises

I had known many miseries since the blackout, but none of them
rivaled walking miles through the snow in wet clothes after a sleepless
night. My pack felt as if it weighed a hundred pounds and my legs were so
numb that each step was awkward and rigid. If we didn’t make it home
soon, we would both get hypothermia.
The temperatures dropped and the steady snow was now sticking,
creating a carpet of resistance that hindered our progress. Joshua was right
to worry that we would have been stuck in town but I was beginning to
question the wisdom of trying to make it home in our condition. He was
flagging, more tired than I’d ever seen him.
Despite his weariness, Joshua still forged the trail, keeping me going
with a muttered “almost there,” and “not long now.” If not for him, I never
would have found my way. My compass and map still meant little to me
and I was so unfamiliar with the woods beyond the farm. It was his
guidance and determination that had us standing in front of the gate by
midday.
My gloves were drenched and my fingers too numb to untie my
shoes and unzip my jacket. Joshua did it for me, his hands deft as ever.
They must’ve been as cold as mine but I couldn’t tell. All I could feel was
the faint pressure of his touch, every inch of my skin frozen.
“Strip.” Joshua commanded as he did the same.
He was naked and halfway to the fireplace before I even unbuttoned
my jeans. I stalled in my task, tears burning my eyes when I finally got a
good look at him. The entire right side of his face was bruised, his ribs and
sternum sporting matching purple marks. So easy. It would’ve been so easy
for him to die last night.
For the first time, I second-guessed my decision. Did we save lives?
Or did I only put Joshua at risk? Maybe he wouldn’t have sustained his
injuries if he hadn’t kept me from watching his back. Or maybe he
would’ve been so distracted by my presence that we would both be dead.
There were so many maybes, too many for my brain process without having
a complete anxious breakdown.
I couldn’t stop staring at his bruises, couldn’t help but wonder if I’d
made the wrong choice. My decision put Joshua in danger. I hadn’t thought
of that possibility, only of my own conscience. Sometimes he seemed
invincible to me.
“Why did you do it?” Why did he put himself at risk? Joshua was as
risk averse as they come and, though it disappointed me, he cared little for
anyone but himself. I was the exception and I wasn’t entirely sure why.
It wasn’t because he was a terrible person, but because that was how
he was made. For so long Joshua tried to tell me that was his nature and I
didn’t understand it. Now I did and it left me more confused than ever.
He glanced over his shoulder as he crouched to start the fire and
simply said, “For you.”
“You saved people, Joshua. You did something good.” I wanted to
tell myself it was good. There was no choice but to fight fire with fire,
taking a life to save one.
That was how I was going to rationalize my own actions.
“For you.” he repeated.
I was still standing in the doorway, stunned and too cold and tired to
move when Joshua began carefully removing my wet clothes. He wrapped
me in a wool blanket and sat me beside the fire. I watched him hang our
clothes on the rack beside the hearth and rose to help. He needed rest much
more urgently than I did.
“Sit.”
“Joshua—”
“Sit down, Olivia.”
“You’re getting awfully liberal with this ‘do as I say, Olivia’ thing.”
I grumbled, but still obeyed.
“It works.” His back was to me but I heard the smile in his voice.
Joshua gingerly lowered himself to the rug beside me. I opened my
blanket in invitation and he accepted, sliding closer to me and breathing
relief at the warmth of naked skin on naked skin. There was an unexpected
peace humming between us, like all of the events of the last twenty four
hours were completely imagined and we were still steeped in post
lovemaking bliss.
 Then my eyes glided over Joshua’s quickly purpling jaw and reality
opened a blackhole of anguish in my belly.
Fingers curled around my calves, I whispered, “Is it going to get
better?”
Joshua studied me with hard, dark eyes. “Do you want my honest
answer?”
I considered for two long breaths. “No.”
“Everything gets better, eventually.”
“You’re just saying that to be nice.” I tried for a teasing smile but
my face was too tired.
“I thought we went over this. I’m not nice.”
“No, you’re not.” My lips finally found the energy to lift upwards.
“But I like you anyway.”
“Do you?” Rough knuckles followed the hill of my cheek. When he
got to my nose, he straightened his finger and gently stroked from brow to
tip. His affection was cautious and exploratory, nothing like I’d come to
expect, yet there was a certain thrill to it. Every part of me, from scalp to
sole, was new territory to be discovered.
“You should get some rest.” My words contradicted my body,
leaning to follow the warmth of his touch as it feathered down my throat to
my nape.
“We both should.” He agreed, though he too was in no rush to
retreat from our nest in front of the fire.
I don’t know if it was the adrenaline or the emotion from a close call
that turned his touch incendiary. One moment his hand was on my neck, the
next it was tugging my hips down to meet his. My fingertips dug into the
muscles of his chest, provoking a wince that froze me.
“I’m so sorry, Joshua. We should—” I went to lift my weight from
him but he pulled me back, bringing my chest flush with his, lips inches
from mine.
“No. I need this.” He kissed me gingerly. “I need you.”
Our eyes met, his colored with wariness and a vulnerability I’d only
just learned to recognize. It wasn’t something he wore easily, his body
tense, once again looking like the stray cat that was halfway to fleeing.
Joshua was expressing desire. He was asking for something for himself,
something that I could give to him.
 I needed it too, needed to feel the security of that closeness, needed
the intimacy to banish the sick feeling that was quietly gnawing at my
conscience.
Every inch of him was hard beneath me, taut with strength that was
rooted much deeper than the muscles that built his big frame. The rise of his
chest rocked me in gentle waves, his breath a warm breeze on my face. If I
could go back and see him that first day we met, would I see all the ways I
would come to find him beautiful? Beauty probably wasn’t a word a man
like Joshua wanted to be associated with, but he had it. He was beautiful in
the way that only someone you love can be.
And I did love him, so very, very much.
“Tell me again.” I pressed my temple to his forehead, shifting my
ear lobe to brush his bottom lip.
“I love you, Olivia.”
I sank down onto him with a shuddering breath, squeezing my lids
together so he wouldn’t see the tears trying to escape. They weren’t tears of
sorrow but they weren’t quite happy tears either. I couldn’t explain to him
why I was crying, couldn’t find the words to describe the upwelling of
relief.
Several heartbeats passed, another drawn out exhale, and I realized I
hadn’t moved. My face was still pressed to his, my thighs quaking with the
exertion of my position. I wanted to burn this feeling into my memory
forever, this connection that had become instinctual. When I’d had my fill
of it, when I was filled with him, I pressed Joshua’s back into the rug and I
rocked forward.
If I hadn’t been watching his scowl untangle into a soft look of
euphoria, I would have thought the gravelly sound that rasped from his
throat was one of pain. He made another when I slowly slid back down until
my hips met his. A very particular satisfaction warmed my lower belly as I
watched his eyes roll closed. Those low, gratified noises persisted with
every increased stroke of his body inside mine.
Gradually, his sounds became words, a murmur of my name, one of
the harsh curses I’d come to find so endearing. His hands found purchase
on my hips, cupping them with just enough pressure to make my desire
burn hotter. What started as soft and comforting intimacy quickly became
wild, bordering on desperation. Joshua tilted his back, rising to meet me
every time I returned from my upward retreat.
 I drove further, desperate for the release of that ever building
pressure between my legs, but there was so much more I wanted from him,
too. My hands feathered over his chest, fingers pressing into the firm
muscles that encased his ribs. Lips met lips, cheeks, chins, the column of
throats, and anywhere else they could reach. My want was not only for the
primal pleasure from our frenzied movement. I wanted all of him.
The tension suddenly snapped, sending delicious vibrations up my
spine and all the way down to my toes. Joshua stiffened beneath me, his
tongue finding my name again, repeating it in chorus with each of my
drawn out moans. It was different when he said it in a flare of passion; soft,
almost a plea. His grip on my waist tightened, desperate for me to give him
exactly what he’d given me.
“God, Liv.”
I indulged him. I knew, probably long before then, that I would give
him anything he asked for. I gave and I gave until he sat up, gasping. His
arms came around me and he drew us together, our bodies so tightly wound
that there was no beginning or end. My fingers buried into the muscles of
his shoulders, holding on as if for dear life. In that moment, I felt that I
would shatter into pieces if he let me go.
“I love you.” It escaped my mouth before I could catch it. Only after
his thumb came to separate my tightly closed lips, tugging the bottom one
and stroking the words off of it like he could catch them in his palm and
keep them, did I remember that I could say it. “I love you.” I repeated until
I was breathless all over again, holding him as tightly against me as I dared.
“I know, I know.” One big hand rubbed up my back, soothing away
the pain he must have heard in my voice.
It was the good kind of pain, like the kind of tears that feel cathartic
to cry. It was exhilarating, so thrilling that I almost cried out the way I had
as we made love. The world was ending and nothing was okay but here,
wrapped in wool and warm limbs, slick with sweat and completely sated, I
didn’t care.
I didn’t care if everything outside that tiny shack washed away. Let
the snow keep falling until the earth was coated in it, until we were
cocooned in silence and darkness, save for the crackle of the fire and
Joshua’s soft snores—he’d barely gone horizontal before he was out.
I leaned over him, watching his eyelashes dance while those dark
chocolate eyes chased a dream. My lips settled on the pulse thrumming up
his neck, shivering when the tight curls of his beard tickled my forehead.
I didn’t move my mouth away from his skin when I whispered.
“Joshua?”
“Mmm?” He shifted his head in my direction but his eyes stayed
firmly closed.
“You’ll never have to be alone again.”

[Link]
 A Note from the Author

Do you believe that dreams have meaning? One late autumn day I
came home from a walk in the rain feeling feverish and tired. I fell asleep
on the couch with a Dolly Parton song stuck in my head and dreamed of
love in the face of tragedy. I dreamed of a young woman being brave in the
face of her greatest fears, of a man with no heart finding it on the forest
floor. I woke from that dream and immediately began typing away. Thus,
Moonshine was born.
You haven’t just finished reading a piece of my heart made tangible
on paper (tangible-ish if you’re reading the eBook). You’re holding in your
hands a dream that I’ve brought to life. I have words to describe many
things—probably too many things—but none that can do justice to the way
it feels when someone else enjoys my work.
As an author, it means to the world to me when you reach out and let
me know that my book kept you hooked.
As an indie author, it means I can keep putting words on a page for
your eyes to feast on when you let the world know that my book kept you
hooked. If you have a moment, please consider reviewing Moonshine on
Amazon or Goodreads. Reviews go a long way in making it possible for
authors like me to support themselves. Thank you for reading Moonshine
and thank you for your support!
Until next time,
Kat Bostick

[Link]
 Acknowledgement

Writing a book is a journey and you meet so many amazing people

along the way. I’m so grateful to everyone that gave their time and love to
help me complete this project.
As always, I must thank my husband for putting up with the sound of
the keyboard at three in the morning while I nursed our baby. I spent many
of the precious few hours we got while our son was sleeping working
tireless on this story and he never complained.
I’d like to thank my mom, my dad, my brother, and my sister for
helping me as I waffled over cover designs. Your insights gave me so much
clarity.
I have to thank the amazing Betsy Harloff for teaching me to use my
baby carrier. It sounds like a small accomplishment, but it was the
difference between me meeting my writing deadlines. Most of this book
was written with a baby strapped to me!
So much gratitude for Britt Laux for saving my butt with last minute
editing tips.
Thanks to my ARC readers who jump at the chance to read my work.
Your input and reviews fuel my craft.
A huge thank you to my amazing online author friends. Each and
every one of you inspires me and keeps me going when I feel discouraged.
What an incredible community of creative people.
And of course, I have to thank Dolly Parton for creating the music
that filled my childhood with joy and inspired my latest creation.

[Link]
 about the Author

Kat has always believed in magic, if only the kind that flies from fingertip
to keyboard and then onto paper, enchanting a reader and giving them a
brief respite from the mundane world. She made her debut in 2019 with her
first novel, Hunter’s Moon. Like all of Kat’s favorite stories, her books are
packed with adventure, sprinkled with equal shares of humor and
heartbreak, and finished with a healthy dose of romance.

When she’s not writing Kat is a full-blown homesteading, crunchy-as-

all-get-out granola mama. She has a love for all things that grow in soil and
spends time talking to the plants in her garden.

For more information about Kat visit her website, [Link]

Sign up for Kat’s newsletter and receive announcements about new

releases, sneak peeks, and independent writing projects!

[Link]
 Books By This Author

Hunter's Moon
It all started with a really bad date…

Mari Sowka is a bookworm, a chocolate-lover, and a witch. In theory,

anyway. She possess magic like her mother, her grandmother, and all of the
women that came before her, but she’s never been taught to use it. After the
tragic and apparently magic related death of her mother, Mari’s father
banned her from learning or practicing witchcraft of any kind. Resigned to
her mundane fate, Mari does her best to settle into life as a young adult.

Except everything mundane about her life goes out the window when her
date attacks her in a secluded park and Mari is rescued by a werewolf.

Cursed by a witch with rare and powerful magic, Jasper thought he was
doomed to walk on four legs for as long as he lived before madness took
him. His pack and much of his humanity are already lost when he comes
across a young witch that smells of honeysuckle and home. One wolfish act
of violence intertwines their fates, sending them on a journey across the
state in search of a lost werewolf pack, fleeing a dangerous witch, and
seeking the truth about Mari’s heritage.

[Link]