Apophis:

A Love Story for the End of the World

ELIZA LENTZSKI

Copyright © 2013 Eliza Lentzski

All rights reserved.

ISBN: 1494733048

ISBN-13: 978-1494733049

DEDICATION

To C

Other Works by Eliza Lentzski

Winter Jacket

Date Night

Second Chances

Love, Lust, & Other Mistakes

Diary of a Human

CONTENTS

Author’s Note

v

Chapter Nine

95

Prologue

1

Chapter Ten

109

Chapter One

8

Chapter Eleven

126

Chapter Two

15

Chapter Twelve

141

Chapter Three

26

Chapter Thirteen

157

Chapter Four

38

Chapter Fourteen

165

Chapter Five

43

Chapter Fifteen

175

Chapter Six

52

Chapter Sixteen

195

Chapter Seven

66

Chapter Seventeen

210

Chapter Eight

76

Chapter Eighteen

226

Author’s Note

In 2004, scientists discovered an asteroid and they named it 99942 Apophis.  In February 2013, Russia experienced the destruction of a meteor exploding in the Earth’s atmosphere.  At one time it was believed that there was a chance (albeit, less than 3%) that 99942 Apophis might similarly collide with the planet.  But before you start digging a bunker in your backyard, it is no longer believed that Apophis is a legitimate threat.

Prologue

It started with Russia.

In February 2013, a fragment of the 2011 EO40 asteroid entered Earth’s atmosphere, officially becoming the chelyabinksk meteor.  The giant rock had somehow been a surprise, catching the Russians unaware by hiding in the glare of the sun.  Nearly fifteen hundred people were injured and whole buildings were destroyed, causing millions of dollars in damage.

I remember watching online footage and thinking to myself that it had to have been an Internet hoax.  This kind of thing didn’t happen in real life, right?  Asteroids.  Meteors.  Hordes of screaming people running to evade falling space debris when the meteor exploded in the sky.  This was the stuff Hollywood made movies about; it wasn’t supposed to be the Top Story on the evening news.

Scientists first spotted our asteroid back in 2004.  They named it 99942 Apophis.  I used to wonder how and why they came up with these names.  It’s kind of like how someone arbitrarily decided to reclassify Pluto and voted it off the Planetary Survival Island.  Who made these decisions?  Did it matter which space rocks were big enough to be planets and which ones were simply asteroids? And why did they need names and designated numbers in the first place?  In the case of our asteroid, the co-discoverers had chosen an appropriate name.  In ancient Egypt, Apophis was the Greek name for the enemy of the sun god, Ra.  Apophis was the deification of darkness.  But these were all things I only learned about just as everything was coming to an end.

When I was just starting junior high, Apophis came within 19,400 miles of the Earth.  Scientists around the globe did the math; they studied the trajectory of the giant space rock’s next orbit, and when they didn’t get the answer they were looking for, they checked the numbers again and again, but with the same results.  We were doomed.  Apophis was going to hit us.

Everyday, the asteroid traveled closer and closer to Earth like a doomsday calendar.  Rumor has it that the government even consulted with Hollywood screenwriters responsible for all those films where the hero has to destroy a similar space threat.  I guess Life really does imitate Art.  But eventually the scientists convinced the government that it would only cause more damage if they, as all those apocalypse movies suggested, blew up the massive rock before it hit Earth, effectively splintering the asteroid into a million pieces.  Instead of one giant impact zone, there would have been hundreds of thousands.

The days leading up to Apophis’s impact were the worst.  There was rioting in the streets and huddling in people’s homes.  It seemed like most people approached the End of Days in one of two ways – party hard until the world ended or stay at home and pray like hell it didn’t happen.

When Apophis struck, things naturally got chaotic.  The damage was unprecedented, but I suppose it could have been worse – we could have all died immediately on impact or drowned from a giant tsunami wave.  Unexpectedly, the blow was softened by the shallow angle of the meteor’s approach.  Like the Russian meteor before it, Apophis exploded in the air before it actually hit the Earth’s surface.  The planet still turned into a piece of Swiss cheese from the resulting rubble, but we all thought we were going to be okay.  We could rebuild from this.  We hadn’t shattered like a glass that had been dropped on the floor.

But Apophis was a red herring.  It wasn’t the asteroid itself that we should have feared.  What the scientists should have been worried about was the aftermath of the impact – what came to be known as the Frost.  When Apophis exploded, the atmosphere absorbed immeasurable amounts of meteoric dust.  The debris in the atmosphere joined the already high levels of man-made carbon monoxide.  This, along with a slight wobble in the Earth’s orbit caused by Apophis’s collision, created the perfect storm to trigger something that hadn’t happened in about 12,500 years – an Ice Age.

Technically it wasn’t an Ice Age; what we were experiencing was an Impact Winter or a Glacial Period, a cooler period within an Ice Age.  But that was just semantics.  Our reality was a vicious cycle – the more the temperatures dropped, the more ice and snow covered the earth, and the more the sun’s rays were reflected back, making it even colder.

I might sound like some kind of astronomy expert, but my understanding at the time of what was happening was pretty rudimentary.  When Apophis hit and the world as we knew it was starting to change, my high school had gathered everyone together – school assembly style in the gymnasium – to educate us about the upcoming crisis.  I had never really taken an interest in school and I hadn’t taken an earth science class since the eighth grade, but when I realized that my survival might depend on this knowledge, I became the greatest student.

It’s ironic to think about now because before scientists discovered Apophis, everyone thought that the big threat to humanity’s existence would be Global Warming.  The ice caps would melt, the polar bears would die, and the oceans would reclaim the planet.  No one ever suspected that the real threat would be the exact opposite.  We weren’t going to bake inside of a giant greenhouse; we were going to slowly freeze to death.

The flowers were the first things to die.  Anything that relied on photosynthesis was eventually choked out by the dust cloud that refracted the sun’s radiation.  I remember fondly my mother’s great flower garden in our backyard.  She was a grade school teacher with summers off and she devoted those months to the garden.  Hydrangeas, pansies, daffodils, tulips, petunias, cornflowers, daisies, tiger lilies – I remember them all.  She never grew anything of great import – anything of practical use – something my father had once snapped at her about when the produce section at the grocery stores went barren.  But I do remember it had always been very pretty.

Beautiful things of little use had no place in the new world that emerged because of the Frost.  That’s what it came to be called – the Frost.  Pretty innocuous name if you ask me.  I wonder if the government had a lame contest over naming this disaster.

Life in my hometown fell apart quickly once the Frost set it.  The town had been unstable to begin with, the result of an oil boom that had more than doubled the population of our small city overnight. Williston, North Dakota had the unhappy coincidence of sitting in the center of the Bakken oil formation (which I’d always thought sounded like an alien species).

The town had remained relatively unchanged since the 1950s until the boom. The rest of the country had been experiencing an economic depression, but you’d never know that from the looks of Williston.  Classrooms in a once small school district now teemed with the children of young families eager to take advantage of the wage inflation caused by the employment shortage.  The local Walmart couldn’t keep up with the demand for everyday products, and shelves emptied as soon as they could stock them.  Waitresses made a killing on tips from the truck drivers and the frakkers and the cementers who frequented their diners.  My family owned our house, but I heard stories about people being evicted from their apartments when landlords doubled or tripled their rent to make room for the men who worked in the oil shale fields who could afford the bloated prices.

Like a modern day gold rush, people across the nation had left their 9 to 5 jobs to work in the oil fields surrounding my hometown.  But not my dad.   My father was a man of logic and numbers.  He was levelheaded and not apt to make decisions whose consequences he hadn’t fully considered.  He worked at a bank downtown in the tiny financial district as a loan officer.  He approved or denied people money for start-up businesses or commercial farms based on a 3-digit number that told him the reliability of that individual.  He brought home a suitable paycheck that, combined with my mother’s public school teacher’s salary, had afforded us a 3-bedroom house at the end of a cul-de-sac.  His conservative mindset went beyond the economic world and bled into the social.  But he wasn’t an anomaly in that.  In rural North Dakota, just about everyone was a little un-evolved.

After Apophis struck and the Frost began, the government federalized the oil fields and coal mines to avoid price gauging during the crisis.  Once the epicenter of an economic boom, Williston became a military camp, practically fortified to keep the nonrenewable resources safe.  Safe from whom, I’m not sure.  Elsewhere, hydroelectric power ended because the water froze.  Our other renewable energy sources – solar, geothermal, and wind – simply weren’t enough to power the giant machine of America.  There was even an urban legend that the government, anticipating that something like this might happen, had been building a secret bunker and that they had been able to tunnel their way close enough to the Earth’s core that the underground city was powered by fusion or magma or whatever was at the squishy center of this candy-coated planet.

Rather than countries pooling resources and working together as they had in other times of crisis, we all turned a blind-eye to our neighboring countries’ needs.  And the way the world governments failed to work together was reflected in the people.  After the Frost, altruism and charity became antiquated concepts struck from humanity’s lexicon in favor of survival. We could have continued to have a civilized existence if people weren’t so naturally greedy and self-serving.  The temperatures hadn’t yet dropped to uninhabitable.  In fact, I’d witnessed even colder, harsher winters in North Dakota when temperatures dipped so below freezing that even breathing was a chore when your lungs burned and the snot froze in your nostrils.

Almost everyone I knew left Williston to go further south.  It made sense. That’s what a lot of older couples did in the winter months anyway – Snow Birds, we’d called them.  And what was the Frost if not an extra-long winter?  But the southern states could accommodate a couple hundred thousand seasonal retirees; they weren’t prepared to house and feed the entire northern portion of the continent.

Flights and boats closer to the Equator were the next phase of retreat as the temperatures continued to drop.  But soon after the mass exodus from the larger northern continents, the tiny island nations that floated near the planet’s bellybutton closed their borders to refugees, and developing nations like those in Latin America and Africa could hardly support their native populations, let alone millions of North Americans and Europeans.

My family was not among the refugees.  We stayed.  Maybe it was foolish, maybe it was arrogant to think we could outlast this extreme climate change.  Who knows how things would have turned out for us if we’d decided to leave with the other families who lived on our street.

In the beginning, my family had no special skills to ensure we’d survive the Frost.  We hadn’t been one of those Doomsday-prepping families who’d built a special underground bunker filled with ammunition and nonperishable food.  When the government had warned the general public about what was happening to the Earth’s climate, we’d stocked up as best as we could, but it wasn’t anything particularly impressive.  Resources in Williston had already been strained long before the crisis because of the oil bonanza.

No one in my family had been particularly handy with a weapon or traps with which to catch wild game.  When my grandfather was alive, he’d taken me fishing on the Red River once, but I’d been five years old at the time and the only thing I could remember about it was being more interested in the night-crawlers than the actual fish.

For my own meager survival training, I’d been in Girl Scouts long enough to realize I didn’t like sewing or embroidery.  I’d had to take archery in middle school as part of mandatory gym class, but there had been a push to eliminate it from the curriculum because some parents on the PTA thought it was too violent.  They should have gotten rid of dodge ball instead.

The one thing we did have going for us, however, was my Grandma Rosie.  My uncles and aunts had all left for more tepid climates, but Grandma Rosie stayed behind and moved into the guest bedroom across the hallway from my own bedroom.  She’d thought herself too old to be wandering the globe like so many others, all in search of elusive warmth.  Now well into her eighties, she had come of age in the heart of the Great Depression.  Her generation, more so than any of the pampered Americans that had followed, was best suited to get through this current crisis.  Just as there’d been no guarantee the world would recover from the global depression back in the 1930s, it was her optimism and faith and good sense that kept us alive.

The first months of the Frost were like a dream or a movie.  It hadn’t felt real what was happening.  Outside looked and felt no different than a typical Midwestern winter, but everyone I knew, the friends I’d had since preschool, the people in my neighborhood, my extended family, had all packed up their essential belongings in the backs of trucks and trailers and had left. When spring came on the calendar, but the snow remained thick on the ground and no tiny green buds appeared on the skeleton-like branches of the trees, it started to become more real.  But I still wasn’t worried.  My grandma’s confidence was contagious, we ate well, we played board games, and we built fires in the woodstove and fireplace when the central heat no longer worked.

It was an adventure like I was Laura Ingalls Wilder out on the prairie with Ma and Pa and Carrie and Mary.  Our home wasn’t too large, and my father had smartly insulated it to keep from wasting heat.  For now the Earth’s temperature hadn’t dropped so much to necessitate us sleeping in the same room, huddled around the fire.  I was thankful for the privacy and the ability to exist in my own space, even if it was my childhood bedroom and not a campus dorm room or a studio apartment.

It was a comfortable, if unpredictable existence.  But we all knew that eventually our supplies would run out or the temperatures would dip so dramatically that we would freeze to death.  It was just a matter of time.  It was survival of the fittest at its best.  Or at its worst.

+++++

CHAPTER one

I woke up to the sound of a loud crack, sitting straight up in bed and feeling disoriented by the late hour and my exhaustion.  The colder it became, the more tired I got, and for the past few weeks my father had started being more strict about rationing our food supplies.  I’d lost track of how long this winter had lasted, but I knew it had been well over a year.

I heard what I thought was a fight downstairs – heightened, alarmed voices – but none of it made any sense to my still sleep-deprived brain.  There was another loud noise, something crashing or breaking, followed by the sound of feet pounding up the stairs to the second floor.

My chest tightened as the heavy footsteps got closer and the handle of my door began to rattle.  I’d started sleeping with my bedroom door locked, just as precaution.

My father’s voice, distinct but muffled, filtered through my closed door.  “Get up,” he gruffly ordered.  “Bandits are here.”

I shot out of bed.  This wasn’t a drill.  I could hear more noise downstairs and the undeniable sound of looting – glass shattering, cabinet doors opening and closing.

“Samantha!” my father hissed, his voice louder now. “Get out of here now.”

I didn’t bother grabbing anything or even changing out of my pajamas.  We’d rehearsed this; we’d prepared for the inevitable moment when bandits would intrude on our lives.  Some families had hunkered down like my own, but even more people were scavengers, roamers.  The most dangerous places were the abandoned highways and the city centers where they congregated.  My father had told me that bandits would kill you for a match, or a cigarette, or the jacket that you wore.

I hurried out of my bedroom and found myself alone.  I looked across the hallway into my grandmother’s room.  I could see the double bed with its covers thrown off and I assumed she’d already made her way outside.  My father had constructed a second-floor escape in case of an emergency just like this so we didn’t have to worry about being trapped upstairs if the ground floor had been compromised.  He’d turned out to be a pretty handy fix-it man.  He and one of my uncles had built our back porch one summer, but beyond that he’d never really done much construction.  After the Frost, however, with no noble reason to return to work everyday like a doctor or a police officer or a firefighter would, he’d stopped going to the bank and instead had thrown himself into learning skills that would help us survive.

I scrambled out the door at the end of the hallway and made my way down the scaffolding of stairs that clung to the side of our house like an overgrown ivy plant.  The snow on the steps seeped through the material of my wool socks, but I didn’t care.  I was used to the cold and the wet by now.  When I reached the bottom step, I could see smaller footprints in the snow ahead of me.  The steps were close together as if the person responsible had tiptoed quickly across the backyard.

It was dark outside; the days were getting shorter everyday.  I didn’t need the tracks in the snow or sunlight to find my way to the unattached pole barn.  There was usually an old clothesline that ran from the house back to the storage shed.  My grandmother used it to dry laundry.  The wet clothes would freeze on the line and she’d bring them back inside to thaw before returning the clothes to the laundry line to start the process all over again.  The real reason for the laundry line, however, was to help us between the shed and house in case of a blizzard.  If there was ever a whiteout, we could use the line to guide us back and forth.  I felt for the line, instinctively knowing where it should have been, but only grasped air.  The line was gone.  Cut, I assumed, by the bandits.  They’d probably thought it was a homemade alarm system or a booby-trap.

Even though the laundry line had been cut, its existence had been more precautionary than necessity.  I had lived in this house and this yard all my life.  I could have probably found my way back to the pole barn blindfolded.  The pole barn had been on the property when my parents had bought the house a few years after they’d gotten married.  Over the years it had become dilapidated from ill use, but I loved it.  It had been my place to escape to when I needed to breathe.  I had often “run away” to the barn and lived there for a weekend until I got bored of myself.  I’d always imagined that one day I’d fix it up and make it a more livable space, but I’d never really had the time or the ambition during high school to follow through with that plan.

I followed the footprints all the way to the pole barn. The door was usually latched with a heavy padlock that was so rusted it didn’t quite close all the way.  Even though it no longer locked, my dad said it kept the honest people honest.  The lock was gone now though, but the two oversized swinging doors were still shut tight.  The backs of the doors were insulated with thick, pink foam boards that my dad had cut down to just the right size so the doors always stayed shut tight together.  I knew it was just my grandma inside who’d removed the lock, but I still wanted to be careful.

Cautiously, I pulled open one of the doors, just wide enough so I could slip inside.  The pole barn had few windows, and it was even darker inside.  I held my breath as if the steady inhale and exhale might give me away.

“Sam?” My grandma’s voice broke through the silence.

“Gran? Where are you?” I called out.

She stood to her full height and stepped out from behind my father’s riding lawnmower. Like me, she was still in her pajamas.  Her eyes were wide, like an animal that had just been cornered.

“Is it just you? Where’s Mom and Dad?” I worried aloud.

“They must still be in the house.”

I started for the door, intent to go find them, but my grandma clamped her hand on my shoulder.  “Just wait a few minutes,” she instructed. “They’ll be here soon enough.”

My shoulder sagged and I hung my head, but I did what she told me to do.

My grandma sat down on the lawnmower and sighed.  “Why couldn’t they just leave us alone?” she murmured.

“Are you sure it’s bandits?” I asked. “Maybe Dad’s just testing us, seeing how fast we can get back here?” It was a long shot; even though my father was a careful man, I couldn’t imagine him doing something as elaborate as this.

My grandma sighed again, but said no more.

I began looking around the inside of the barn, searching for something I could use as a weapon.  There weren’t too many items inside the shed besides the lawnmower and some other now-obsolete gas-run machines, but I knew there had to be something.  On one wall hung my father’s tool collection.  I grabbed a hammer from its hook and experimentally hefted its weight in my hand.  I could probably smash someone’s skull with it I decided.

My body snapped to attention when I heard the unmistakable sound of snow crunching beneath heavy boots.  Someone was in a hurry and they were coming closer.  I ducked behind the lawnmower where my grandmother continued to perch.  I wanted to hiss at her to hide, but I didn’t want to speak for fear that whomever was outside would figure out we hid inside.  Our footprints in the snow threatened to give us away, but they’d have no way of knowing if those were old prints or freshly made.

I clenched the hammer tight in one fist and waited.  My calves started to burn from being crouched and tense.  I sucked in a sharp breath when both doors swung open and a tall, broad-shouldered figure stood in the doorway.

“Samantha?” It was my father.  He stepped fully inside the pole barn. “Mom?”

I sprung out from my hiding spot. “Where’s mom?” I demanded.

“She’s not coming.”

I stared at my father.  My eyes had adjusted to the dark by now and I searched his face. “Why not?” His words didn’t make any sense to me.

My grandmother slipped her arm around my waist.  “Was it the bandits, Brandon?”

He looked away, blinking rapidly.  “She went downstairs to get a drink of water.  She must have startled them.”

The arm around my waist tightened.  I still didn’t understand what he was trying to tell us.

“Is she in the crawl space?” I naively asked.  We didn’t have a basement; not too many homes did because of seasonal flooding, but my father had built a kind of panic room in the narrow space beneath the house that could be accessed from the kitchen.

My father looked back at us.  Even with only the moon streaming through the small barn windows to illuminate his features, I could see him working the muscles in the back of his jaw.  “She’s dead, Samantha.”

If it hadn’t been for my grandmother’s silent strength, I would have collapsed onto the floor, for sure.

“We have to go,” my dad said, not looking at us.  “It’s just a matter of time before those animals come out here looking for supplies.”

“We can’t go.  We can’t leave mom,” I choked out.  “We have to get her.”

“Samantha…” My grandmother’s gentle voice called me back to reality.  She turned back to my father.  “Where can we go?”

“My deer shanty,” my dad said. “It’s a few hundred yards into the woods.  There’s less of a chance they’ll come looking for us out there.”

He opened up a large cabinet in which we kept extra supplies like coats, boots, and our emergency backpacks.  We had left the house in such a hurry that none of us had jackets and only my father had on shoes.  He grabbed three backpacks from their hooks and handed one to each of us.

I pulled out a dry pair of socks from my emergency pack.  Mine were soaked from walking through the backyard without shoes.  I still had on my pajamas – flannel pants and a long-sleeved t-shirt.  The emergency pack had one of those high-tech, sweat-wicking thermal outfits, but I assumed my father wouldn’t want to wait for me to change into a different set of clothes.  I opted for pulling snowpants and a jacket over my pajamas.

I think I was functioning on autopilot.  Everything was happening too quickly.  I couldn’t even be sure this wasn’t all just a bad dream.  But I wasn’t that lucky.  This was happening.  Bandits had broken into my house.  Bandits had killed my mother.  An unexpected sob bubbled up my throat and was out of my mouth before I could shove it back down.

My dad shot me a hard look.  “You have to be quiet, Sam,” he admonished.

I clamped my mouth shut and bit down on my upper lip, but managed to nod my understanding.  I knew we weren’t out of danger yet.  There would be time for grief and mourning my mother later.

“Stay close and try to step where I step,” my dad instructed when both my grandmother and I were ready to go. “It’ll make less of a trail in the snow.  I’ll sweep away our footprints later.”

We obediently followed behind my father as he left the familiarity of the pole barn and started out into the dense woods behind our house.  I used to play back there nearly every day in summers when I was young, but I hadn’t visited my old haunts in years.  I kept my eyes trained on the ground and did my best to step in the snowy imprints my father’s boots made.  My grandmother trailed behind.  I could feel her holding onto the back of my emergency pack like I was a helium balloon she was afraid might float away if not properly tethered.

The deer blind was a wooden box, painted dark green, that sat on a wooden platform about seven or eight feet from the ground.  My father had purchased the kit a few years ago when he’d taken up hunting as a hobby.  Secretly I thought it was more of an excuse to get out of the house like an outdoor Man Cave.  He’d never killed anything.  He just sat out there for hours on weekends.  I would have loved using that thing as a tree fort during my adolescence when I was quick to climb trees and slow to care about makeup and boys and training bras.

The inside was bare besides a canvas camping chair folded up in one corner and an old metal coffee can that looked every bit the cliché of items to be inside a deer blind. There were narrow rectangular cutouts just at eyelevel that dotted the perimeter of the shanty.  Even though the blind had a weatherproof roof and a door that shut tightly, a thin layer of snow had accumulated on the ply-board floor, collecting in the corners like miniature snow drifts.

“We can’t risk using a light,” my father whispered wearily.  He sounded like he was running on empty.  “This thing would light up like a lighthouse.  You’ll have to set up your sleeping bags the best you can without it.”

My grandma brushed away at the light snow covering, and it scattered in the air like the white puff that adorns a mature dandelion.  “Don’t forget your sleeping pad,” she told me in a low tone.  I nodded numbly.

She unrolled her foam pad on the ground and set up her sleeping bag on top.  Even though there was no heat source in the blind and the windows had no proper glass panes, it would be better than sleeping in a tent on the frozen ground.  I must have still looked shell-shocked because she pried the padding from my hands and set up my makeshift bed for me.

“Brandon,” her gentle voice coaxed my father, “give me your pack and I’ll set up your bed.”

My father hovered near one of the window cutouts.  “I’m fine,” he rasped, now peering out into the night.

“You should try to sleep,” she encouraged.

“I’m fine,” he intoned more firmly.  His arms went around his broad frame and he hugged at his torso.

Despite the shock of the night, or perhaps because of it, my eyes began to feel heavy.

I clenched my backpack to my chest, a kind of safety blanket, before finally allowing myself to close my eyes, hoping to find rest.  But the howl of the unforgiving wind beyond the protective covering of our hidden shelter caused my body to tense even more rigidly than it had been before.

“Try to get some rest,” my grandmother urged from her sleeping bag beside me.  “Things will feel better when the sun is up.”

I didn’t believe her.  Not one little bit.  I shut my eyes and focused on the fading image of my mother.

+++++

CHAPTER TWO

I woke up the next morning from a dreamless sleep.  The past few hours had been nightmare enough; my overly active imagination didn’t need to help.  Sunlight streamed through the open-air windows of the deer blind.  My grandmother quietly snored beside me, but except for the rhythmic sound of her sleep, everything else was silent.  I used to hate the chatter of birds outside my bedroom window when all I wanted to do was sleep in.  Their absence was now just another thing about the world after Apophis that I had once taken for granted.  More so than the cold it was the quiet of a technology-free world that had taken the longest to get used to.  Without the constant drone of the television set or the sound of highway traffic in the distance or the dinging alarms of smartphones or even the gentle hum of a refrigerator, the world had gone silent.

My father was slumped against the same wall where he’d been standing when I’d finally fallen asleep.  I wondered how much sleep he’d gotten, if any.  I crawled out of my sleeping bag and when the wooden frame creaked with my movements, his head snapped up in my direction.  He held a finger to his lips, indicating that I should remain quiet.  He pointed to my grandmother who lay beside me in her sleeping bag, sleeping soundly despite our primitive surroundings and the chill in the motionless air.

He jerked his head toward the deer blind’s door.  I followed him outside and climbed down the wooden ladder until we reached the ground.  He stretched his arms above his head and tilted his head at an angle until I heard a distinctive popping noise.

“Are we going back?” I asked him.

He frowned and straightened up. “Back?” He echoed the word as if he’d never heard it before.

“To the house.  To take back what’s ours.”

“You and what army, Samantha?” my father countered. “They have weapons and they have numbers.”

“We can’t just leave Mom there.”

My father closed his eyes and pinched at the bridge of his nose with two gloved fingers. “It’s dangerous,” he husked.

“You’re really okay leaving her there with bandits?” I demanded angrily.  I knew I should be more cautious and keep the volume of my voice low, but I was overcome with emotion. “With those monsters?”

“Of course I’m not,” he snapped back at me. “But I have to keep you safe. Your mother is gone, Sam.  I can’t risk you and your grandmother by going back.”

“Can’t we just go and see?” I asked, feeling an uncharacteristic whine creep into my tone.  I felt so raw, so defeated.  And I missed my mom.  “Maybe they left.  Please, Dad.  I need to see her for myself.”

My father’s mouth was tight, lips pressed into a fine white line.  Finally, he nodded. “Fine.”

“I’m coming with, too,” I heard my grandma drawl. I looked up and saw her peering over the edge of the deer blind.

My dad’s shoulders slumped.  I knew he hated being outnumbered.

+++++

We took our time traveling the few hundred yards back to the house.  The night before our movements had been hurried and hushed.  Now we stepped cautiously, cringing at the sound our boots made crunching through stale snow.  Above us the sun was high in the sky.  If bandits were still in our house, we wouldn’t exactly be sneaking up on them.  But my dad was right – how could a banker, a senior citizen, and a 20-year-old girl ambush a group of armed men?

When the forest gave way and we were back in our backyard, I was relieved to see the house was still standing – the bandits hadn’t torched it.  The pole barn hadn't fared so well.  It had somehow collapsed upon itself.  My dad kicked at the rubble and cursed under his breath.

“Why would they have done this?” my grandmother asked.  She stooped and picked up the old rusted lock that had once kept the honest people honest.

“Because they can,” was my father’s reply.  His voice was high and tight. “Laws mean nothing if there’s no one around to enforce them.”

“Well, there’s no sense standing out here and freezing,” my grandmother’s sage voice cut through the cold, thin air. “Let’s go survey the rest of the damage.”

The three of us walked to the front door together.  The snow leading up to the front stoop had been trampled, crushed beneath the repeated falling of heavy-booted footsteps.

I touched my father’s elbow to get his attention.  “What’s that?” I asked quietly. Someone had spray-painted a giant X on the front door.  It reminded me of the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina when the National Guard had marked houses.

My father’s face relayed no emotion.  “Probably so they know they’ve already hit this house – that they’ve wiped it clean.”

“All of our supplies?” I asked, eyes wide. “You think they took them all?”

“Look at the snow,” my dad said, nodding toward the ground.  “The snow banks have been flattened like they had a sled.”

I thought about the mountain of canned food and the barrels of essentials like sugar and flour and rice that we had managed to squirrel away in preparation for the Frost.  It seemed an impossible task.  It was gone? All of it? An uneasy feeling settled in the pit of my stomach.

“I’ll go in first,” my dad announced.  “They could still be in there.  I’ll let you know if it’s safe.”  The hardened look on his face visibly softened.  “Are you sure you want to see her, Sam?  I could, I don’t know…” He stumbled on his words. “Move her?  I don’t want that to be your last memory of her.”

“I need to see her,” I re-emphasized my earlier plea.

My father gave me a curt nod of understanding before disappearing through the front door.  My grandmother sat down on the swinging bench on the front porch and patted the empty space beside her.  I took the seat next to her and we sat there together, swinging in silence.  We didn’t talk, and I let myself get lulled by the rhythmic sound of the bench’s squeaking chains.

I remember vividly my first and only funeral.  My grandfather had died of a heart attack while shoveling snow.  To my eighth-grade self, he had looked so strange in his open coffin at the public viewing – unrecognizable in the suit I hadn’t realized he owned, with his pale skin and pink cheeks fresh from the undertaker’s heavy rouge.  But his mouth was the worst – oddly pursed and puffed up like a dog with a ball.

Later, when I’d asked my mom about it, she’d told me he hadn’t looked right because the undertaker had put in his dentures.  I knew my grandpa had a set of false teeth because he loved to startle us by leaving them in unexpected places.  In the bread box.  In the glove compartment of the family car.  In the medicine cabinet.  But they were never in his mouth, not even during meals.  He was like this great, wide-mouthed catfish gumming at everything on his plate.

My heart felt heavy when I realized we wouldn’t even be able to give my mom a proper funeral and bury her in the family plot in the town cemetery.  No doubt the gas had been siphoned off in every excavator in town and the ground was too frozen to chip at it with only manpower and shovels.

“He’s been in there a while,” my grandmother murmured after a few minutes.  She looked worried, but we hadn’t heard any yelling or fighting so I assumed the bandits had truly left.

I patted her arm.  “I’ll check on him,” I said, trying to be brave.  I hopped up from my seat and stopped just in front of the front entrance.  “Dad? Is it safe to come in?” I called through the open door.  I anxiously toyed with the oversized hunter’s knife in its holster at my side.  It was the only true weapon I had.  Convincing my dad to let me carry even just a knife had been hard enough.  He repeatedly warned me that it could be used against me.  I repeatedly pointed out that I was dead either way.

His response wasn’t immediate.  “I can’t find her.”

“What?” I rushed into the house and found my father in the kitchen.  He stood in the entranceway looking lost.

“She was there,” he said numbly, pointing at the floor in front of the kitchen sink.

“Where did she go?” I turned my head this way and that, but found no sight of my mother, no evidence she’d ever been there.  I turned to my dad.  “Did she go someplace else?”

His jaw flexed erratically.  “They must have moved her.”

“Why would they do that?” I demanded.

My father’s features darkened. “That all depends on how hungry they were.”

When I understood his meaning, I gasped and staggered back a few steps.  “No. No.  That-that couldn’t have happened.  No one would ever do that.  What if she wasn’t dead?” I suggested naively. “What if she just walked away?”

He licked his lips, chapped from the dry, cold temperatures.  “They shot her in the head, Sam.  You don’t walk away from that.”

My grandmother had overheard our conversation and she came to investigate.  She stood in the doorway of the kitchen, surveying the damage. “I’ll try to find something for us to eat.”

+++++

Dinner that evening was sparse and silent.  My grandmother had managed to scrape together enough oatmeal from the bottom of one of the wooden barrels to make a meager meal.  The quiet meal was punctuated with the sound of eating utensils scraping against the bottom of bowls.  As the three of us sat around the dining room table, my eyes rested on the empty chair that had been my mother’s. The oatmeal felt heavy in my gut and kept threatening to reappear.

The ground floor had been completely ransacked.  The bandits had gotten into the house by breaking through the front picture window that overlooked our cul-de-sac.  On top of that, every shelf had had its contents knocked to the ground.  Every drawer had been removed from its cubby and its contents were spilled out as well. Furniture was tipped over and broken.  I felt completely violated.  It wasn’t enough that they’d killed my mother; they apparently had had to destroy my home as well.

We had spent the majority of the day cleaning up the broken debris crowding the living room, dining room, and my father’s study.  My dad had used one of the torn down walls from the dismantled pole barn to patch up the gaping hole left behind when the bandits had broken in through the picture window.  I don’t know if he thought if we could just pick up the broken glass and clear out the broken furniture that we’d find my mother's body.  But we never found her.  She, along with the majority of our stockpiled food, was gone.

“We can’t stay here,” my father announced, breaking the uneasy silence that had begun to feel oppressive. “This place is firewood now.”

“It would be foolish to leave, Brandon,” my grandmother protested.  “Where would we even go?”

“We’ll find something.  It’s not safe here anymore.  Now that the house has been compromised, the bandits will just keep coming back.”

“Then we stay and fight!” I exclaimed.  My body shook so violently, I nearly tipped over my bowl of oatmeal.

“These are dangerous, moral-free people, Sam,” my dad noted gravely.  “We’re leaving,” he said with a firm nod.  “We’ll pack up whatever’s left of the supplies, see what’s salvageable, and we’ll leave when the sun’s up.”

“Well, I’m not leaving,” my grandmother said, crossing her arms over her chest in a sign of defiance.  “I’m too old to be traipsing around the country.”

“We’ll figure something out, Mom,” my father insisted.  “It’s better than waiting here to die.  Please.”

“Fine,” she sighed.  Her sunken eyes closed.  I wondered what she was thinking.  In a life dotted with economic depressions and a World War, I wondered where this ranked.

I was happy she was going to stay with us.  I couldn’t handle losing her, too.  Not now, not so soon after my mother…

“Can I stay in my room tonight?” I asked.

“No.  I want you all where I can see you,” my father said sternly.

My grandmother laid a withered hand on his forearm.  Her hands reminded me of bread dough.  They were strong, capable hands, even for a woman her age, but they were also warm, soft, and seemed to always have a sheen as if she’d just been kneading lightly oiled bread dough.  “Let her have the night, Brandon.  If anyone comes, we’ll escape through the second floor stairs like last time.”

He frowned, clearly unhappy with my cautionless plea, but finally he relented.  “Fine.  But don’t stay up all night.  We have a long day ahead of us.”

+++++

Like the first floor, my bedroom had been turned upside down.  Things had been ripped from my closet and the drawers of my dressing bureau had been upset.  My boots crunched as I walked through broken glass.  I picked up a picture frame that had been knocked from its place on the top of my dresser.  The glass was shattered and the photograph that had been inside was missing.

Who knows what they’d been looking for in my room.  It’s not like I stashed canned goods under my bed.  I thought about refolding the clothes that had been thoughtlessly tossed on the floor, but it was a useless action.  They were just clothes.  It was just a room.  It wasn’t mine anymore.  It had stopped being mine the moment the news anchors on the television had told us about the asteroid.

I opened my bedroom closet and stared for a long time at its contents.  I had a few items of clothing in my emergency pack already, most of them specialized camping and hiking gear designed for keeping warm and dry in subzero temperatures.  I frowned at the button-up shirts and the few skirts and dresses that hung there.  None of them seemed essential enough to take up space in my backpack.  I closed the closet door without taking anything out.

I swept my eyes across the room.  Knick-knacks, stacks of books, makeup, jewelry.  They all seemed so unnecessary now when at the time I’d bought them or asked for them as a present, they’d seemed so essential.  The laptop computer I’d saved my summer earnings to buy was now less helpful than a paperweight.  I went to my desk and opened up all the drawers.  Old essays I’d saved for God knows why; stacks of bank statements for my savings account that would remain untouched and obsolete.  Highlighters, staples, push pins.  Nothing, nothing, nothing of value anymore.

I sat down heavily in the center of the room and caught my lower lip between my teeth to keep from crying.  I hadn’t let myself cry yet.  I wasn’t going to start now.

Peeking out at me from beneath the dust ruffle of my bed I saw the corner of a photo album.  I breathed out a rough breath through my nose and pulled the old album out from under the bed until it was in the center of the room with me.  I remembered my mom had told me how important it was to have physical photographs even with digital cameras and external hard drives.  “You never know,” she’d once told me.

I sat in the middle of my floor and flipped through the photo album in silence.  I didn’t know what I was looking for; I think I was just looking for something to distract me.

I turned to a photo of my childhood best friend, Andrea, and I paused.  We had been next-door neighbors, and she had also been my first and only love.  I didn’t have to say the words, but she had known that I adored her.

I traced my fingers along her photographed silhouette.  Her dark eyes were squinted, mouth laughing at something, head tilted up towards the sunlight, as the picture had been taken.  Her arm was thrown around my neck and we were both in bikini tops and short shorts.  I looked like I usually did in photographs – uncomfortable, trying to look at ease, trying to fit in, but just glad to have been included.

I remembered the day the photograph had been taken.  It had been a particularly stifling summer between our sophomore and junior year of high school.  North Dakota hardly experienced weather one might categorize as “summer,” but that school break had been the exception.  My parents had made me get a summer job the moment I turned old enough to legally do so.  Most summers I worked at a Mom-and-Pop greasy spoon diner, working my way up over the years from bus-girl to dishwasher to hostess to waitress.  When I wasn’t working, I spent every free moment with Andrea and a group of our friends at a small lake that was shallow enough that it usually got warm for swimming by the end of July.

Most of the girls never braved the water and sunned themselves instead on broad, flat boulders that dotted the shoreline while the boys, clad only in long swim shorts, dared each other to jump from the highest point into the frigid lake below.  I had always wanted to join them, preferring their company to the often dull, vapid, useless gossip of the sunbathing girls who I called my friends, but I already felt like too much of an outsider to eschew my female classmates entirely just because I worried they’d catch me staring at their bare midriffs for a second too long.

On the day that this photograph had been taken, we’d been baking in the sun for a few hours.  The morning sky had been blue and clear, but as the day progressed, dark clouds had rolled in to choke out the sun.  We’d tried to eke out as much sunshine as we could that day, fully knowing it was just a matter of time before the rain started.  A single crack of thunder had signaled the end of our sunbathing and the skies had opened up, producing raindrops so heavy and large I’m surprised they didn’t dent our nearby parked cars.

We’d had just enough notice to scramble and hastily collect our things.  Laughing, shrieking, without a care in the world, Andrea and I had run to my car to hide out from the sudden downpour.  I remembered the solid thud of car doors closing behind us as I had slid into the driver’s seat and she in the passenger’s.  Everyone else in our party had retreated to their own cars, leaving us alone.  I had looked across the partition at my best friend and it had struck me that I had never seen her look so beautiful before.

Weeks of sunbathing had deepened her already tan Native American skin.  She’d pulled back her thick, lustrous hair into a haphazard bun so messy and so carefree that a stylist would never have been able to mimic its perfection.  My eyes had dipped lower to her bikini top, a white swatch of material that cut across tan skin and a defined clavicle, that accentuated the narrow hollow between her small, twin breasts.  She was breathing heavier than usual because of our sprint from the lake to my car, and her mouth was slightly open.

Without thinking I’d leaned across the seats and had kissed her soundly on that parted mouth.  I thought I’d felt her press back against me, but I wasn’t sure.  For months afterwards I sat alone on my bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to remember if I’d felt her kiss me back.

Her dark eyes had stared at me with such intensity when she’d pulled back.  All the while her tongue kept dancing out of her mouth to run the length of her lower lip as if she was still feeling and tasting me there.  In my daydreams, this was the part where she reciprocated my bravery and kissed me back.  But instead of that mouth moving against mine, it formed the words I dreaded to hear.

“I won’t tell anyone,” she’d told me somberly.

Much of my junior year I’d spent petrified that she’d go back on her promise and everyone in my high school, and then eventually the entire town, would know my secret.  But true to her word, Andrea had kept quiet.  I didn’t know if it was a tribute to our friendship or if she was afraid of implicating herself in some same-sex schoolgirl scandal.

From that moment on we weren’t anywhere as close as we’d been before The Kiss.  The sleepovers stopped, but she was still brightly friendly to me whenever I saw her in the hallways at school.  I didn’t see much of her though as we didn’t share any classes that year or the next, hers all college-prep and Advanced Placement while I skated by, content to slip under the radar lest anyone notice my presence.

The evening before Apophis was scheduled to strike, the moments just before we thought it was going to all end, I’d been sitting in this very same place on my bedroom floor, reading and listening to music.  My parents were spending the night together and I didn’t want to selfishly spoil what could be their final moments, but I also hadn’t wanted to overhear it.

Sometime around 8 o’clock that night there’d been a knock on my bedroom door.  It was Andrea.  The moment I had opened the door, her lips were pressed against mine and her fingers were searching for the bottom hem of my t-shirt.  I didn’t bother stopping her to ask why.  I knew why – the world was ending.

The next morning when we’d woken up to discover that the world hadn’t ended, she’d left as abruptly as she’d arrived.  I didn’t try to stop her and I didn’t try talking to her afterwards, and in a few weeks time she and her family had left for Florida.  I still loved her though.  She couldn’t help who she was anymore than I could.

I took out two photographs from their protective liner and slipped them into a zippered pocket of my backpack.  One was a picture of my mother, standing and smiling in front of her prized flower garden.  The other was of Andrea.  I felt foolish to pack both pictures, especially the one of my former best friend, but I didn’t want to forget what they looked like or how loved they’d both made me feel in their own ways.

I thought about my father’s survival philosophy – you can carry everything you need on your back.  Be frugal.  Be prudent.  Be practical.  I wondered if I’d find any mementos in his backpack, but I knew that I needed these in my pack to survive.  Because even now with my memories not far removed from life before Apophis, it was hard to believe that the world I now saw around me had ever resembled the bright, warm, vibrant place permanently preserved in those pictures.

+++++

CHAPTER THREE

The next morning I shouldered my backpack and came downstairs.  Although back in the familiarity of my childhood bedroom and not huddled inside my dad’s deer shanty, I hadn’t gotten much sleep.  I wondered if I’d ever be able to sleep soundly again.

Downstairs, my grandma, who usually woke up earlier than the rest of the house, was drinking coffee at the kitchen table and reading a newspaper that was practically two years old.  She read that paper every morning as if she expected the news to have changed since the day before.  I would be surprised if she hadn’t memorized the entire paper by now.

“Morning,” I greeted.

She looked up from her reading and smiled.  Her aged face softened with a warm glow.  “Morning, Sam.  There’s coffee in the kettle on the woodstove,” she said, nodding in the direction of the potbellied stove. “I also made some cinnamon buns if you’re interested.”

“I wondered what smelled so good.”

Her smile drooped at its edges.  “I’m sorry it’s not more.  I wanted to make us one last big breakfast before we left, but those bandits really cleaned us out,” she said, shaking her head.  “There was just enough sugar and flour in the dry cellar for the buns.”

I swallowed the lump that had formed in my throat.  Those bandits had stolen so much more than the food in our pantry.

My grandma went back to her reading and I grabbed a plate and a coffee mug from one of the cabinets.  I poured myself a steaming cup of black coffee from the copper kettle that sat atop the woodstove.  I wrapped my hands around the mug and breathed in the rich aroma.  Normally I preferred my coffee with tons of cream and sugar, but I’d acquired a taste for black coffee because of the need to ration.  We had run out of dairy products over a year ago and now used a non-dairy powdered creamer for anything that called for milk or butter.

My grandma had baked the cinnamon buns in a cast iron dutch oven using wood coals from the fire.  It was a neat trick she’d taught my mother and me, shoveling out the red-hot coals onto the stone hearth to cook or bake on.  For things like bread or large pieces of meat that needed heat from the top and the bottom, we used a dutch oven with an inverted lid.  The top had a beveled lip high enough so coals could go on top.  When whatever had been baking was finished, you used a long fire poker with a hook at one end and fished around in the now grey ash for a solid ring that would let you lift the lid from the oven without spilling the ashes into the food inside.

It was a lot harder to do than it looked.  It was solid cast iron, so it was heavy and awkward, and if the weight of the coals on top of the lid wasn’t evenly distributed or you tried to move too quickly, you could very easily tip the lid and all the coals would get into your food.  I’d spoiled a few loaves of bread that way, but you learned quickly from your mistakes or else you got accustomed to the taste of wood ash in your food.

I sat at the table with my grandma and stared at my plate.  The cinnamon buns were warm and decadent, but they were such a lavish departure from my usual breakfast of coffee and plain oatmeal that I couldn’t help but feel like an inmate on Death Row having my Last Supper.

I didn’t look up when I heard my father’s heavy footsteps come into the room.  I heard, rather than saw, the sounds of him opening and closing cabinets.  I kept my eyes trained on my uneaten breakfast when he sat down beside me and the legs of his chair squeaked noisily against the linoleum.

“Morning,” he grunted.

“Morning,” I echoed back, still not looking away from my plate.

He immediately tucked into the oversized cinnamon buns on his plate.  He only paused to breathe when he noticed I wasn’t eating at all. “Eat that,” he gruffly ordered.

I responded by using my fork to push the food around on my plate.

“We have long days ahead of us, Sam,” he grunted, continuing to shovel more food into his mouth.  “You need to eat.”

I sighed, probably more dramatically than was necessary, but I finally followed my father’s order.  My grandma was a good cook and an even better baker, but it was a chore to eat my breakfast without gagging.  I didn’t want to leave; this was the only place I’d ever called home.  I was frustrated with my dad’s decision to uproot us, but I knew I couldn’t stay behind.  This time I couldn’t just run away to the pole barn until my anger dissipated.  I’d have to grow up and adjust just as we’d all had to when the Frost first began.

My grandma finished reading her newspaper for the umpteenth time.  She closed it up along its well-creased folds.  “So, what are we going to do?” she asked.

“We’re going to finish breakfast and then we’re going to hit the road,” my father said.

“And do we know where we’re going to?” questioned my grandmother.

“West.”

“Why west?” I spoke up.

“Everyone’s already gone south,” my dad reasoned, “so resources will be strained between North Dakota and the southern states.  If we go west through Montana, Idaho, and maybe Wyoming, we should have better luck.”

“But there’s nothing out there!” I challenged.  I had never been west of North Dakota before, but I imagined it a vast, barren wasteland.

My dad nodded.  “Exactly.  Which is why bandits and everyone else will have left it alone.”  He finished his breakfast and wiped at his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt.  “Finish up here and make sure you have everything you need,” he said curtly, rising from the table. “I want to be on the road in half an hour.”

+++++

Life slipped into a routine in those days after we left Williston.  We traveled during daylight hours and we camped, my father in one tent and my grandmother and me in another, when the sun set.  We spoke little, a mixture of mourning the loss of my mother and not wanting to attract nearby bandits with the sound of our voices.

Between the three of us we had three sleeping bags, three sleeping pads, and two tents.  There had been an extra sleeping bag and pad in my mother’s unused pack, but it didn’t make sense to bring it along. Our survival kits were substantial, but they weren’t intended to last for very long.  We could manage to stretch the supplies out of fear of not finding a more permanent living situation, but also because the provisions had been meant to accommodate four people, not our party of three.

Everyday we had three tasks to accomplish.  Eat.  Rest.  Move.  We sought the Holy Trinity wherever we went: shelter, food, and heat.  At least water was plentiful; it was frozen, all around us. It hadn’t actually snowed in months – it was too cold for snow to form – and the ground cover was old and crusted, but it still tasted as good and clean and pure as any water out of the tap.

My father hadn’t told us if he had a plan beyond going “west,” but neither my grandmother nor I pressed him.  I think we were both scared that he’d admit to not actually having a plan.  At least this way, following him single-file for hours at a time through knee-high snow banks, we could pretend that there was a purpose behind our continued wandering.

But even though this ignorance kept me in a mild bliss, I was starting to get annoyed.  Where exactly were we headed?  What were we going to do when the food in our backpacks ran out?  My dad was insistent that we keep away from the cities and highways to avoid another run-in with bandits. We could catch wild game with our small animal traps, but living off of squirrels and rabbits wouldn’t last us long. Why had we left the familiarity of my childhood home just to wander around until our scant resources ran out?

I tried bringing up our situation with my grandma, but every time she shook her head or shrugged her shoulders.  It was unlike her not to voice her opinion, but unless she had a better idea, I supposed she chose to remain silent.  I wasn’t able to sit back quietly, however.  He was gambling with our lives and I needed something, some semblance of a strategy, to convince me that our current travels had a purpose beyond putting as much distance between ourselves and the pain we’d endured in Williston.

Four days after we’d left Williston, we stopped for a water break, which was basically just eating handfuls of powdered snow.  I took the opportunity to voice my concerns.

“Hey, Dad?” I wanted to sound the least confrontational as possible.  I’d been practicing my speech in my head for a good portion of the morning.

My dad leaned against a tree with his arms crossed. “Hydrate, Sam,” he told me. “It’s a water break.”

I bent and scooped up a handful of snow and shoved it into my mouth.  I swallowed down the melting snow and took a deep breath to try again.  “Dad. What are we doing out here?  We need to figure out what our End Game is beyond surviving one day to the next.”

My father held a finger to his lips and my complaint fell away.  “Did you hear that?”

I stood quietly, listening for whatever had made him pause.  I was about to restart my Grand Speech, thinking he’d made up the noise so I’d stop talking, when I heard it, too.  It sounded like men shouting.  My father, instead of moving away from the noise like my survival instincts were telling me to do, started walking in the direction of the troubling sounds.

I started after him and grabbed at the sleeve of his heavy coat.  “What are you doing?” I hissed.

He shook me off, but didn’t respond.  I looked at my grandmother to back me up, but she shrugged.  We both knew there was no talking to my father once he’d made up his mind about something.

The two of us silently followed him.  As we cautiously crept through the thinning forest, the angry shouts grew louder.  Then, a high-pitched feminine shriek pierced the air.  At the sound, my father began sprinting.  His formerly careful movements turned into a burst of speed like he’d been shot out of a gun.

“Dad!” I yelped, momentarily forgetting we were supposed to be traveling inconspicuously.  No longer thinking about my own safety, I chased after him.

The forest gave way to a county highway.  Abandoned vehicles dotted the road and I wove around the long-forgotten 4-wheel drive trucks and SUVs.  Car travel was risky business.  You needed a 4-wheel drive vehicle to plow through the snow-covered roadways, but they were also energy inefficient.  Finding gasoline these days was nearly impossible.  Gas had been the first non-renewable resource to go.

I hadn’t run this hard in sometime; I hadn’t gotten very far before it felt like my lungs were going to burst.  I sucked in mouthfuls of dry, winter air and it burned down my throat.  It felt like my windpipe was bleeding, but I knew that was just in my head.

I continued chasing my father’s still sprinting form.  The shouting had stopped.  It was either that or the pounding of my boots on snow-covered highways and the heavy beat of my heart echoing in my ears had drowned out the struggling cries.

I spotted the source of the loud noises.  Two lumbering figures dressed all in black, including black ski masks, were yelling at the passengers of a white SUV.  With the sun high in the sky glaring off the front windshield, I couldn’t tell who or how many people were inside the stopped car.

The masked men wielded metal crowbars and they began assaulting the vehicle directly.  I heard the distinct sound of glass shattering and that same female shriek followed.  My chest seized at the sound.  I bent my head down and willed my churning legs to go faster.

My father was almost at the scene.  I wondered why the bandits hadn’t yet spotted either of us, but I supposed they were too preoccupied with scaring the shit out of the car’s passengers.  I didn’t know what they were trying to achieve by destroying the car and potentially the people inside.  It’s not like there was much to gain survival-wise unless the back half of the car was stacked with canned goods or gun ammo.  I immediately thought about the destroyed pole barn in our backyard and wondered if the human race had moved beyond survival mode now to a place of such despair that cruelty was a welcomed distraction from reality.

I sucked in a sharp gasp of surprise when I saw my father tackle the bandit standing near the front driver’s side door.  My father was a big man – tall with broad shoulders.  He’d played tight end at the local state university back in his college days.  The bandit fell hard to the ground with my father’s weight on top.  The crowbar loosened from his hands from the force of my father’s attack.

My father’s antics caught the attention of the second highway leech.  Before the second man could jump into the fray and help out his friend, I had reached the car.  Not thinking, I leapt onto his back.  I ripped my gloves off and began clawing at the man’s face, aiming for his eyes.  He cried out first from surprise that someone was clinging to him like a backpack and then secondly because my ragged nails were slicing into his face.  I chewed my nails out of boredom and it’s not like I’d had the foresight to pack nail clippers and a nail file in my survival pack.  Space was limited; things like tweezers and nail snips had to be forfeited for more practical things.

My father must have knocked his man unconscious because he was on his feet again in a matter of minutes.  He grabbed the crowbar his assailant had dropped.  I saw him lift the weapon above his head.  “Sam!” he called.

Using the man as a springboard, I leapt from his back and tucked forward.  I led with my right shoulder and ducked my head down to roll, unharmed and untouched, a few feet away.  My father’s crowbar connected first with the remaining man’s shoulder.  He shrieked in pain from the blow.  When the metal weapon connected with his shin next, he howled again and dropped to his knees.  My father swung the crowbar back like it was a 9-iron and he followed through.  The end of the crowbar caught the bandit’s chin.  His head snapped up, his eyes closed, and he fell face forward onto the ground.

My father was breathing heavy.  I stared down at the bandit sprawled at my feet.  I didn’t know if he was dead or merely unconscious, but I didn’t care.  I knew from where my father’s aggression had come.  I had felt it, too.  These two bandits, regardless if they were complicit in my mother’s death, were a symbol.  And my dad had kicked their ass.

I heard the groan of metal grinding on metal.  The driver’s side door of the white SUV opened with some difficulty.  The bandits had practically collapsed the entire driver’s side panel with their crowbars.

“What the hell were you thinking?” my father yelled at me.

“I could ask you the same thing,” I snapped back.  “When did you turn into a superhero?”

A thin man with a long face and salt-and-pepper hair shakily climbed out of the car.  He held the palm of his hand tight against his forehead. I could see the crimson dribble of blood seeping through his fingers.

“Thank you.” He coughed violently. “Those men came out of nowhere.”

My father’s figure was still tense, as if he didn’t trust the car’s driver not to attack.

My grandmother finally caught up with us.  Her cheeks were red and she was breathing heavier than usual.  I immediately felt guilty for running off and leaving her behind.

“What do we have here?” she asked.  Her icy blue eyes trained on the fallen bandits who still hadn’t moved.  I didn’t want to check if either of them was still alive or not.

The passenger side door creaked open. The sun was shining right in my eyes, and I had to cup my hand over my face like a visor to get rid of the glare.

“Stay in the car, Nora,” the salt-and-pepper man instructed.

Whoever was in the passenger seat seemed not to hear the man or was ignoring his command.  I could just make out the slight curves of a woman’s silhouette, accentuated by the bright sun behind her.  She stooped and picked my gloves off the ground where I’d hastily thrown them to better shred some man’s face apart.  She walked over to me, her feet making small, careful movements as if she was afraid she might slip on ice even though the road was only covered in snow. Wordlessly, she handed me my gloves.  With the sun now at her back and it no longer blinding me, I could finally get a good look at her.

Locks of strawberry-blonde hair poked out from beneath her white knit cap.  Her peach skin, dotted with a light spray of freckles, was tinted rose at her cheeks.  I couldn’t tell if the blush was from the cold or from unnecessary makeup.  Her eyelashes were black and long, framing a pair of aquamarine irises a vibrant shade I’d only ever witnessed in my mother’s flower garden.  Her lips looked too soft for this world, and I found myself self-consciously licking my own.  My lips felt cracked and dry from extended exposure to the cold.  In her winter boots she was maybe an inch or two shorter than me.  She was bundled up in snow gear like the rest of us, but similar to the salt-and-pepper man’s clothes, it was newer and nicer than anything I owned.  She looked like she was ready to go downhill skiing rather than outlast an apocalypse.

“Thanks,” I said, taking the gloves and stiffly shoving my frozen hands back inside them.

“I suppose I should be the one thanking you.”

My head snapped up at the tenor of her voice.  It was low and velvety, the kind of low burr that always made me weak in the knees.  I didn’t know what it was about women with lower register voices, but their hypnotic element always ensnared me.  It wasn’t fair.  God was most definitely punishing me with this girl’s voice for every wicked thing I’d ever done.

I stared at her and she stared back, her face emotionless.  It was like a game of chicken, neither of us looking away. I found myself once again staring at her mouth.  Her lips were generous, thick and soft.  It was the kind of mouth celebrities spend a fortune on trying to achieve.  The carefully manicured eyebrows. The gentle slope of her well-proportioned nose. It was too much perfection to be contained on one face.

When my father spoke again, we both finally broke our staring contest.  “What the hell were you doing in a car?  It’s idiotic using one of these things.  You just attract attention to yourself.”  He kicked at the useless tire of the SUV.

The salt-and-pepper man grimaced.  His head looked like it was still bleeding from a nasty gash across his forehead.  “I guess I underestimated the weather and how much gas it would take to go cross-country.  We’re kind of stranded.  I’m hoping you can help us.”  He leaned against the hood of his car.  It looked like it was taking all of his efforts to stay standing up.

“I’m sorry,” my father started.  I didn’t think he sounded truly apologetic – it was just force of habit.  “We can’t help you.  We’ve got to worry about ourselves.”

“I know how to get to Eden,” the man wheezed.

My father stilled.  “Say that again.”

“The rumors are true.  Eden exists,” the man said, still coughing.  “And I’ll take you there and get you inside if you’ll help us.”

My father’s icy blue eyes narrowed in suspicion.  “How do I know you’re not just making this up so we don’t leave you two for dead?”

“The company I own received government contracts to retrofit an underground facility,” the man revealed. “When the government realized what was happening to the earth’s climate, they reopened an old, underground bunker from World War II.  Roosevelt had had it commissioned as part of the Manhattan Project as a precaution to nuclear warfare.  My company was responsible for turning it into a living space,” he continued. “And as reward for our secrecy, there was a lottery for spaces inside.”

“Where is it?” my father demanded.

The other man shook his head.  “If I tell you, you’ll just leave us or kill us.  But I can take you there.”

My father always played it safe.  That had been his job at the bank for thirty-some years – to weigh the pros and cons, to analyze the risk involved in trusting others.  He’d kept our family stationary while the rest of the planet scrambled over one another to gobble up the world’s remaining resources.  He wasn’t a risk-taker.  But now, with seemingly nothing left to lose, he was hesitating.  My father seemed to actually be mulling over this man’s story.

I looked over at the man and the younger woman.  I didn’t trust them.  I didn’t trust anyone.  I’d heard of Eden, but we’d all thought it was a legend like alligators in the sewers.  It seemed too calculating, too cruel, that our government would have created such a place and then left the majority of us to fend for ourselves.  I thought this man must be trying to take advantage of my father’s current desperate mindset.

“Ok.”

I was sure I’d misheard my dad.

“You’re not serious,” I blurted out. “Dad, we don’t know them,” I said, waving my hands at my sides.

“Samantha.” My father’s tone let me know this wasn’t up for discussion.  I wasn’t used to him making decisions for me.  Ever since he’d shaken me awake when bandits raided our home, he’d taken on the sole leadership role. I was an adult; shouldn’t I have some say about if we allied ourselves with these strangers?

“That cut looks pretty bad,” my grandmother observed, sidling up next to the salt-and-pepper man.  “Mind if I take a look at it?”  She removed the first-aid kit from her backpack.  It wasn’t much – a few Band-Aids, cotton balls, and iodine.  If any of us got seriously injured, we’d be in trouble.

She dipped a cotton ball into the iodine and began to rub away at the blood that had dried on the man’s forehead. “What happened?” she asked him.

The man winced as she continued to dab at the open wound. “We’d just run out of gas,” he said.  “I was planning on ditching the car and walking until we found some gasoline or another car with gas in the tank, but just as I was opening the door, those two men attacked us.  They both had crowbars and started bashing the car, breaking the windows and hitting the side panels.”

“They hit you with a crowbar?” my grandma gasped.

“No.  I think the car door clipped me in the head when I was trying to get out and they slammed it shut on me.”

My grandma nodded sagely.  “Well, it’s certainly a good thing we came along when we did.”

The man breathed out deeply.  “That’s for sure.  I’m Jerry West,” he introduced himself.  “And this is my daughter, Nora.”

“Rosemary Poulsen, but you just call me Rosie,” my grandma said with a wink.  “That tall drink of water over there is my son, Brandon, and that’s my granddaughter, Samantha.”

“It’s nice to meet you all,” the man said with a brief smile and a cough.

“I wonder how those men found you,” my dad thought out loud.  “We’re in the middle of nowhere.  Usually bandits stick to the cities where there’s more resources.”

“Maybe the cities are drying up, too,” I suggested.  “Maybe they’re widening their territories because they’re getting more desperate.”

“We should get moving,” my dad said, frowning.  I think he realized the truth and gravity of my words.  “I don’t know what you’ve got packed in your car, but you’ll probably need to downsize. Everything you need for survival can be carried on your back.”

“Nora,” Mr. West called to his daughter as my grandma finished patching up his head, “go start downsizing.”

“Sam, go help her,” my grandma urged me.

“Why?” I demanded.

“Because it’s the right thing to do,” she said pointedly.

I rolled my eyes, but did what she said.  I walked around the vehicle to the rear where the girl was tugging on the straps of an oversized hiking pack.  The backpack looked swollen from over-packing.  I was surprised the zippers hadn’t burst.  She made frustrated noises as she yanked and pulled without result.

“Let me help.”

She swung her head to look at me.  “I can do it.”

“Let me help,” I insisted again.

“I’ll be fine,” she grunted as she continued to struggle.

I held up my hands and walked away without another word.  I knew I should have tried harder to help her, but I was only going through the motions to satisfy my grandmother.

I walked back to where my grandmother sat in a snow bank.  “That was fast,” she shrewdly commented.

I held up my hands again.  “She said she didn’t need my help.”

My grandma shook her head and muttered something under her breath in Norwegian.  I knew a few scattered phrases.  I’m pretty sure she’d called me stubborn.

My father pulled out his laminated map and laid it out on the hood of the SUV.  He and Mr. West, now freshly bandaged, hovered over the waterproof map.

“I need some directions,” my dad said.

“I can’t let you have them,” Mr. West countered.

“Give me a state at least,” my father snapped, clearly displeased. “We can’t help you folks if you get us lost and we’re just walking around in a giant circle.  I won’t put my family at risk like that.”

Now it was the other man’s turn to regard my father.  I was glad he had put some conditions in place so we weren’t traveling blind and at this man’s mercy, but I still felt annoyed and uncomfortable that I hadn’t been consulted about my father’s decision to trust them.

“Idaho.”

+++++

CHAPTER FOUR

We started out at a brisk pace.  I didn’t know if my dad was showing off in front of Jerry and Nora West, but even I was struggling to keep up.  I looked back at my grandmother to see how she was doing.  Her face was passive, but she seemed to be keeping up just fine.

Mr. West walked beside me. “You look like you’re about the same age as my Nora,” he said conversationally.

I made a grunting noise, but didn’t really answer him.  It wasn’t my job to make nice with these people.  We’d saved them from bandits; what more did they want from us?  I didn’t have to tell either of them anything about me.

I glanced back at the man’s daughter who was trudging a few paces behind us. We did look about the same age, but I wasn’t looking to make a new best friend.  I was just trying to survive the best I could and keep my father and grandmother alive.  She had a pretty face. The eternal cold kept her cheeks flushed; it made her look alive.  Our eyes met briefly, hers aqua-blue and intense, and I quickly looked away, upset with myself for getting caught staring.

“Nora graduated from Smith College. Top 5% of her class.  But she’d never tell you that; she’s far too modest,” he prattled on. “Were you in college before the Frost?”

“No.”

I had had dreams of going to college.  I wasn’t the best student in high school, so I’d imagined I’d spend two years at the local community college before transferring to one of the big state schools in Fargo or Grand Forks.  I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do with my life exactly, but I’d always thought I’d have time to figure that out once I got to college.  But now all of the nation’s universities were abandoned structures popular with bandits who scavenged the land like vultures preying off of others’ misfortunes and their own sense of entitlement.

“It’s too bad all of this had to happen,” he noted wistfully. “All that work she did in college probably seems like it was for nothing now.  A lot of things feel like they were for nothing, actually.”

I adjusted the strap on my backpack to redistribute its weight.  I didn’t like all of this talking.  I’d fallen into a comfortable routine with my dad and grandma of not really talking until we set up camp for the night.  Even then it was minimal – just talking about our plans for the next day.  It was just safer not to make a lot of noise.

Sensing that I wasn’t going to be a chatty traveling companion, Mr. West quickened his step to walk beside my father.  I couldn’t help smirking.   He wasn’t going to have better luck with my dad.  My dad didn’t waste anything, especially idle chitchat.  He chose his words carefully.

I bent my head when a brisk wind blew through the sparse trees.  God, this was miserable.  I hoped the trip to Eden would be short.  Maybe we would find a car with the keys still in it with gas that hadn’t been siphoned off by bandits.  Maybe we’d stumble across some working snowmobiles or a pack of wild dogs we could harness to a sled.  It was foolish to hope for luxuries like that, but I still let my mind wander to a world where everything wasn’t so difficult and where my legs didn’t feel like 100-pound sandbags trudging through the snowdrifts all day long.

+++++

After a few more hours of walking, we finally stopped for the evening.  Most nights the moon was so bright overhead that we could have continued traveling, but there was no sense burning ourselves out that quickly.  Instead, we built a fire large enough to cook on and set up our tents.

Our campsite had grown from two tents to four. It seemed wasteful that the Wests couldn’t share a tent, but I could understand the desire for some semblance of privacy.  I wouldn’t have wanted to share a tent with my dad either.

I had sat back and watched Nora fumble with the various components of her tent when we stopped for the day.  Her brow had been creased as she stared at poles and stakes and the tent, clearly not knowing what to do and stubbornly refusing to ask for help. Eventually her father had come over and helped her finish setting it up.  I hadn’t dared look in the direction of my grandmother.  I knew she’d be giving me her straight-lipped, disappointed look.  It wasn’t that I didn’t consider myself helpful or altruistic, in fact I tended to be a little too forgiving or chivalrous when it came to pretty girls, but the Frost had changed me.  I no longer felt the need to go above and beyond to help strangers.

We had a limited dinner of dried meat and canned goods that evening.  The Wests were able to add to the variety of canned food, but little else.  They hadn’t anticipated needing too many supplies because of their ill-fated plan to drive cross-country to Eden.

Before my dad retired to his tent for the night I helped him set up a few animal traps in the area around our campsite. They were basically glorified rat traps that couldn’t catch anything bigger than an errant squirrel, but we also set up a few larger snares, hopeful for something a little larger. The Wests couldn’t help out in that department either and I was beginning to wonder what they could help out with besides knowing how to get to Eden, which might not even exist in the first place.

Our current campfire popped loudly.  An ember about the size of a plum hopped from the fire and sizzled noisily in the surrounding snow.  I nudged the choked-out cinder with the toe of my boot and watched it extinguish.

“What was that noise?”

I flicked my eyes over to where the girl, Nora, sat on the opposite side of the fire.  Both of our fathers and my grandma had turned in earlier that evening, leaving the two of us to each other’s unwanted company.

“It’s just the fire,” I said dully.

“It sounded like a gun shot,” she worried.

“It was the fire,” I insisted.  “Don’t worry about it.”

“Oh.” She was silent for a long moment, just staring at the fire.
“You know, I used to watch all those survival shows on TV before Apophis. Now it’s like we’re on our own reality show.”

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, it’s just like The Real World.” Her bubbly personality, which I’m sure made her popular in non-survival situations, was wearing on me. “I’m going to sleep,” I unnecessarily announced.  I stood and straightened up.

Nora looked up from the flames. “You’re leaving? What do I do with this?” she asked, gesturing to the still glowing fire.

“Nothing.  Just let it burn.”

“Isn’t that dangerous?”

I rolled my eyes.  “It’s not like it’s going to burn down the forest.  We’re surrounded by snow.”

“Oh, I suppose you’re right,” she said a little sheepishly.

I tried to keep my annoyance in check, but I’d felt prickly the moment my dad had agreed to take on two extra bodies to our group. “Good night,” I grumbled, trying my best to remember my manners. “See you in the morning.”

“Night,” she sighed miserably.

I tried to be as quiet as possible when I entered the tent I shared with my grandmother.  I shed my oversized jacket and rolled it into a makeshift pillow.  As I slid into my sleeping bag, I heard something I didn’t recognize.  By this time I’d gotten used to the sounds of night.  I recognized the rustle of animals moving through thick brush.  I knew the sound birds’ wings made when they hit against fragile, dead branches.  I knew the piercing shriek of wind whistling through the forest.  But I didn’t recognize this sound.  I wasn’t afraid, but I was perplexed.

“What is that?” I said out loud to the darkness.

“I think it’s an air pump,” my grandma said from her sleeping bag beside me.

“An air pump?” I echoed, not getting the connection.

“I’m assuming those folks your father picked up have an air mattress in their tent.”

“Oh my God,” I snorted obnoxiously.  Seriously.  This girl.  She’d probably never been camping a day in her life.  I was surprised she hadn’t packed suitcases on wheels to go along with that inflatable mattress.  Her dad seemed to have some sense about him though.  Their backpacks looked expensive, and it was clear that they’d never been used before, but at least they were practical.

“You should try being nicer to them, Sam.”

“Why are you still awake, Gran?”  My body was utterly exhausted from non-stop traveling.  I couldn’t imagine the toll the trek was having on her.

“Civility, Samantha,” she urged of me.  “It’s the only thing left that keeps our humanity.  Show the poor girl some kindness.  It’s obvious she’s out of her element.”

I bit my tongue because I knew she was right.  But it was hard not to be annoyed with this girl.  She didn’t know how to live off the land.  She was everything I had come to hate about this existence – someone who felt that the world owed her; that it wasn’t her fault that things had become so messed up.

I couldn’t wait to get to Eden and be rid of them both.

+++++

CHAPTER FIVE

The following morning we lost a day because of a blizzard.  It wasn’t actually snowing, but the wind gusts were so strong that it disrupted the top layer of ground cover, severely limiting our visibility. I couldn’t remember the last time it had snowed, but it was the first day that the weather was so ferocious that we couldn’t travel at will.  It was also the first day I was really starting to miss our more permanent existence in North Dakota.

My father had already informed us that there would be no traveling that day and that we should catch up on sleep and conserve heat and energy.  My grandmother and I were cocooned in our tent, she knitting a scarf while I tried to entertain myself.  When we were on the road and had a task to accomplish, I didn’t have time to be alone with my thoughts.  I thought about survival instead, about putting one foot in front of the other.  Without a tangible goal to achieve today like traveling thirty miles or catching small game, I had too much time to think.  And all that thinking was making me melancholy.

“Knock, knock.” Nora West’s voice floated through the material of our tent.

My grandmother gave me an expectant look, clearly not going to be persuaded to stop knitting to open up the tent’s zipper door.  With a great disgruntled sigh, I hopped up on my haunches and unzipped the tent’s doorway just enough to peer through.

“Can I help you?” I asked.  I was aware that my voice had taken on an unpleasant tone.

Nora was bundled up in her too-nice jacket, but she wasn’t wearing a hat and her strawberry-blonde hair whipped around with each windy gust.  She held a collapsible cup in each hand. “Want some company?”

“Not really,” I grunted.  I hated the way her nose crinkled adorably when she asked a question.

My grandmother jabbed me in the ribs with her knitting needles and flashed me a look that told me to Be Polite. “Fine,” I sighed. I moved away from the doorway so Nora could come inside the tent. “Come on in.”

“I brought coffee,” Nora said cheerfully. “I don’t have much left, but I figured what better way to thank you all for saving us than with some caffeine?” The warm, distinct aroma surrounded her like a cloud and wafted into the tent as she ducked her head and stepped inside.

I quickly zipped the tent back up to keep in the heat.  Even with icy blizzard winds whipping around outside, with our combined body heat it was actually kind of cozy inside the tent.

Nora sat down on top of my sleeping bag and folded her long legs beneath her.  I withheld the desire to roll my eyes regardless of how much I wanted to.  This girl had no qualms about making herself at home in other people’s space.  I sat down next to my grandma on her sleeping bag.

Nora offered one of the collapsible cups to my grandmother. “I hope you don’t mind it’s just black,” she unnecessarily apologized.  “I didn’t have any cream or sugar.”

“No thank you, dear,” my grandma said. “I’m trying to cut back.”

I could have predicted her response.  It was in my grandmother’s nature to deny herself comforts and extravagances so others could enjoy them instead.

Nora’s mouth quirked into a forced grin when she looked in my direction. “How about you, Samantha?” She put the collapsible cup within my reach.  Her voice was annoyingly musical despite its lower register.

“It’s Sam,” I mumbled. I didn’t want to accept this girl’s kindness because then I’d have to be nice in return, but I seriously wanted that coffee.  I accepted the coffee cup, careful not to let any of it spill as though it were precious material.  I could immediately feel the heat radiating from the metal cup.

“Mmm. It’s warm,” I grunted.  I was aware that my conversation skills were lacking.  I sounded like a caveman.  It had been a long time since there had been anyone else to talk to besides my own family.

I wrapped my hands around the cup and let it heat me up.  The sensation jolted me. “Wait.  How the hell is this warm?” I blurted out. We couldn’t build a fire this morning because of the wind.  It was nearly impossible to start a fire with just flint and steel when the wind kept blowing away the sparks; it made more sense to seek shelter inside our tents and wait out the poor weather.

“Language, Sam,” my grandmother scolded.

“Sorry,” I grumbled. “How the heck is this warm?”

“Oh, I heated it up on my solar-powered hot plate,” Nora announced.  She smiled, clearly proud of herself.  Her broad grin was both attractive and annoying.

“Solar powered?” I echoed. “Sounds fancy.”

Nora shrugged. “Not that fancy. I got it from Target.”

“Oh.” First an air pump, then coffee, and now a solar-powered hot plate – I wondered what other gizmos this family had.

"So where are you guys from?" Nora asked conversationally.  She wrapped her hands tightly around the spare collapsible cup and blew across the open lid.

“Williston, North Dakota,” my grandmother supplied as she continued to concentrate on her knitting.

“Really? I don’t hear the accent,” Nora observed. “I’ve never been to North Dakota, but I have seen Fargo.”

My grandma chuckled. “That movie did us no blessing.  That's a Minnesotan accent. Not many people where we're from talk like that.”

I stared into my coffee cup, watching the dark liquid for so long it started to look like it was moving.  I took an experimental sip.  It was delicious.  I felt like my body was warming up from the inside.  Maybe allowing this man and his daughter to tag along wasn’t going to be so tragic.

“So it’s just the three of you? Where’s your mother?” Nora asked naively.

I had spoken too soon.

I barely glanced at her.  “She’s dead.”  I didn’t elaborate.  I didn’t want to.  The hurt was still too fresh and the last thing I wanted was to start weeping in front of a stranger.  Besides, it was cold and I didn’t want my top and bottom eyelashes sticking together.

“Oh.  I’m sorry.  That’s really rough.”  The last word got stuck in her throat.  Her intense sadness made me uncomfortable even though I was the one who’d just lost a parent.

“What about your mom?” I asked in return.  I wasn’t really curious, but it felt like the polite thing to do.

“Oh, uh, she was in Arizona the last time I heard from her.  I haven’t seen her in years though.  My parents split when I was in high school and she escaped to warmer weather.  How did your mom die?”

I stiffened from the question just as an intense wind gust hit our tent.  You didn’t just ask people that.  Didn’t this girl have any sense of decorum?

“You should go back to your tent,” I said. “It might blow away if no one’s in it.”

“But it’s staked to the ground,” Nora protested.

“Staked to frozen ground,” I pointed out. “Those metal rods will slip out of place if you just breathe heavy.”

Nora stood gracefully. “Duly noted,” she clipped. She hadn’t finished her coffee and she struggled between unzipping the tent and balancing her beverage.

“How the hell do I get out of your tent?” she grumbled.  She flashed an apologetic look at my grandmother, still knitting, metal needles clicking together.  “Sorry.  How the heck do I get out?” she self-corrected.

I got up and effortlessly unzipped the tent for her.  Seriously, who didn’t know how zippers worked?

“You’re not much of a talker, are you?” she observed, cocking her head to one side.

I heard my grandma chuckle.

I scowled.  “I can talk just fine.”

Nora made a humming noise, but thankfully she made no other observations about me.  She left our tent and I waited to zip up the door flap until she’d made it back to her own tent.  I knew why I’d watched her until she had safely returned to her tent, but I wasn’t about to dwell on it.

My seat on my sleeping bag was still warm from Nora’s body. My grandmother shook her head and clucked her tongue against the roof of her mouth.

“What?” I demanded.  My voice sounded whiney even to my own ears.

“Would it kill you to be nice?” she sighed.

“I was being nice!” I protested. “I just saved her tent from being blown away!”

“Uh huh.” My grandma shook her head again.

I spent the rest of the day sulking in my tent.

+++++

The next day the winds had sufficiently stilled and we were once again able to travel.  It turned out to be one of those rare days when the wind didn’t cut you down and the sun actually felt warm on your face.  The temperature change helped lift my general dour attitude.

On a good day, we could travel about 25 to 30 miles.  We took periodic breaks to hydrate with snow and for Mr. West and my dad to recalibrate our route with a compass and the map.  We traveled single-file or sometimes two-by-two, but we stayed away from paved roads and avoided major cities.  Walking on semi-plowed streets and highways would be easier on our tired legs and we’d more easily find supplies if we traveled through towns, but it was also more dangerous.  Nora and her father were evidence of that, and my prudent father didn’t think it worth the risk.

“You want some?” I offered Nora some of my jerky.  We had been traveling for a few hours that day and I had periodically been snacking on my supply of venison jerky.  My jaw was getting tired from all the chewing, but the dried meat was a nice change of pace from our usual canned-food fare.

She took a piece of the dried venison, but wrinkled her nose when she bit off an edge.  “What’s wrong with this meat?  Why is it so salty?” she complained.

“My grandma salted the meat to make it last longer,” I explained.  I tried to not let her attitude get me down. “Jerky has a long shelf-life, but cured meats last even longer.”

She handed the meat stick back to me. “Thanks, but I’d rather my ankles not swell up from sodium.”

I shrugged and bit off another plug.  “Suit yourself, Cover Girl,” I gnawed around the meaty bite.

“Cover Girl?”

“Seriously, who cares about sodium when it’s the end of the world?” I pointed out.  “It’s electrolytes.  You need it for your muscles.”

My word choice caused her to visibly stiffen.  “The world isn’t ending,” she said curtly.  “It’s just changing.  It’s evolving.”

“Right.”  I snorted and rolled my eyes.  I whipped my head to look at her, but didn’t stop the perpetual churning of my legs.  I didn’t want to fall too far behind my father and grandmother. “Because we’re going to somehow evolve enough in the next few years to survive an existence with no heat.”

Her hands tightened around the straps of her backpack.  “That’s not a very attractive attitude.”

“Well I guess it’s a good thing I’m not trying to attract you,” I retorted.  “I’m just being realistic.”

She pressed her lips together.  “No.  You’re being an asshole.”

“Listen, I didn’t ask for you and your dad to join us.  We were doing just fine until you got yourselves attacked,” I spat out.  So much for my temporary good mood.  “Stick to your people, and I’ll stick to mine.  I’m not looking for a bestie.”

Nora opened her mouth to respond, but apparently thinking better of it, made a huffing noise and instead quickened her step, lengthening her strides to hustle ahead of me so we were no longer walking side-by-side.  I tried to not let it bother me; it was probably for the best that we walk in a single-file anyway.  It made for less of a visible trail that bandits could use to find and ambush us.

We continued our trek in silence, the only sound being that of our boots breaking through the crunchy snow.  I mentally wrestled with my thoughts.  I considered apologizing to her for being rude – again – but quickly dismissed the idea.  I was just being pragmatic about our situation, I decided, and the sooner Nora West realized how serious the Frost was, the better.

+++++

When we stopped for the night, the sky was clear and a nearly full moon hung fat in the sky.  The sun might no longer be enough to heat the planet’s surface, but at least the moon was a constant companion.

Our campfire crackled and spit ash into the night sky. I abandoned my gloves and hat and leaned forward to feel the rare luxury of heat against my naked skin.  Having a large fire was risky. Any traveling horde of bandits would be able to spot us from a mile off, even though we were sheltered in the woods.

“You’re blonde.”

I turned my head at the sound of Nora’s voice.  Once again it was just the two of us around the fire.  Our fathers and my grandmother were early sleepers.  I liked sleep because it meant my body was finally at rest after nonstop movement for the majority of the day, but I liked soaking up the heat from the campfire even more.

The fire cast a strange light across Nora’s features.  She had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders so only her face was really visible.  After I’d snapped at her, she’d been conspicuously silent the rest of the travel day.  The quiet was welcomed from her usual incessant chatter, but I also felt guilty that I’d been rude. My Midwestern civility was slipping the longer we wandered across the countryside.

I self-consciously ran my hand through my hair and pulled at my long bangs.  I could feel they were doing weird things having been trapped under my knit cap for so many consecutive days.  “Yeah.  I’m blonde.  And you’re annoying.  What’s your point?”

Her face wrinkled like she’d eaten a lemon. “Sorry – it’s just surprising for some reason.  I’ve never seen you without a hat on and I don’t know why I assumed you were brunette.”

“My eyebrows are blonde,” I pointed out.

She shrugged and absently poked a stout stick into the fire.  Another plume of red ash spit into the sky.  “I guess I didn’t look that closely.”

Everyone in my family, except my mother, had pale blond hair and eyebrows, clear icy blue eyes, and pale skin that turned a healthy, ruddy color in the cold winter months.  We were Scandinavian by blood and proud of that.  My mother was darker – a European mutt, German and English and some others.  I had inherited my father’s features, not her dark brown hair and hazel eyes.

I looked away from Nora and into the fire.  “I’m sorry if I was mean earlier.”  I blinked a few times when my eyes started to feel dry.  “I just don’t think it does any good to pretend that things are going to get any easier.”

“I’m not pretending,” she mumbled over the continuous crackle of the fire.  “Do you want me to just give up? To be fatalistic like you?”

I felt the anger flare inside me.  “You don’t know what I’ve been through,” I growled.  “Don’t pretend to know me or my family or our situation.”

She tossed the blanket down, whipping it away from her face.  “You’re not the only one who’s lost loved ones.  You’re not special, so stop acting like the world’s been unfairly targeting you.”

“Bandits killed my mother,” I snarled.  There.  I’d said it.

Nora didn’t flinch.  “They killed mine, too.”

“You said she was in Arizona.” I couldn’t identify the emotion pressing down on me.  I was still angry, but there was something else mixed in.

She shrugged delicately.  “I lied.”

I heard the sound of a zipper unfastening.  My grandma poked her head out of the tent we shared.  “Is everything okay out there?”  Her normally sharp voice sounded tired and thin.

“We’re fine, Grandma,” I told her.

She looked back and forth between our faces, looking for I didn’t know what, but eventually she looked satisfied and ducked back inside our tent, zipping it closed.

I stood up and kicked snow onto the fire.  A giant black cloud of smoke rolled off the charred logs.

“I didn’t say I was done with the fire,” Nora complained, jumping to her feet as well.

I snapped my eyes to her face and gave her what I hoped was an icy stare as chilled as the late night wind.  “You’re done with the fire.”

She made a disgruntled noise.  “God, why are you such a child?”  She grabbed her discarded blanket and stormed off in the direction of her tent. Almost immediately the tiny purr of her air pump’s motor sputtered to life.  The noise droned on for a few minutes, but I noticed that as time passed, the sound – close to that of a hair dryer – became weaker.  Finally, it stopped entirely.

“No. No, no, no,” came Nora’s panicked voice from inside her tent.

I heard the sound of items smashing together and I could almost picture her hitting the mechanized air pump against the ground, trying to resuscitate it.  The zipper on her tent’s front flap was unceremoniously yanked open and she re-appeared.  The annoyance was written all over her face, but when she caught me staring at her, she seemed to put on an unaffected mask as if she didn’t want me to know she was upset.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, even though I knew what had happened.

“The batteries in my air compressor died.”

I choked back my laughter.  The way her mouth was drawn back in a thin line indicated she didn’t find this as funny as I did.

“I don’t suppose you have a 9-volt battery handy,” she said, straight-faced.

I shook my head.  “Sorry, no.”

Her face remained stoical.  “Thanks anyway.”

“The ground’s not so bad,” I said unhelpfully.  “Or, at least you get used to it.”

“I’ll figure something else out,” she said stiffly.  I didn’t see her for the rest of the night.

I stayed outside of my tent for a little longer, watching the fire finally sizzle out.  Nora’s pronouncement that her mother had been killed by bandits had not fallen on deaf ears.  I knew this wouldn’t be the end of our conversation about our mutual loss, and I dreaded it.  I’d finally said the words out loud.  My mother had been killed.  My mother was dead.  And now I would have to live with that realization.  I sat in the darkness until my face started to go numb.

+++++

CHAPTER SIX

The next morning came too early.  I could hear voices, men’s voices, coming from outside of my tent.  Next to me my grandmother snored soundly, so I wiggled out of my sleeping bag as unobtrusively as possible so she can continue to sleep.  Outside of the shelter of the tent the sun was bright, blinding really, as it bounced off the snow that constantly surrounded us. I really needed to find some sunglasses.  My father and Mr. West were already up and there was a fire lit in the place where I’d prematurely snuffed the previous night’s campfire.

The memory of my immaturity nagged at me.  I didn’t know what it was about Nora West that brought out the worst in me.  She was attractive and that made me uncomfortable, and she was awfully inept at survival-type skills, but there was no reason for me to be so rude.  I mentally promised myself to make an effort to be more mature in the future.  We were going to be spending a lot of time together over the next few weeks.

By the time Nora dragged herself out of her tent, the fire was fully formed and I was melting snow for drinking water.  Our fathers had left me in charge while they checked the traps my dad had set out the previous night.  Frozen water was all around us, but it was nice to be able to start the morning with a full liquid glass of water to fill your hollow belly.  It also helped us to not ravenously devour the rest of our food rations.

“Morning,” I greeted her, mindful of the silent promise I’d made to myself to be nicer.  “How’d you sleep?” I already knew the answer by the look of her eyes.  Dark circles were visible under her vibrant aquamarine irises.

“Like crap,” she complained.  She pulled her ski cap on over sleep-tussled locks.  “Is there anymore coffee?  I’m going to need a jump-start this morning.”

“I’m making water right now,” I said, poking at the copper kettle sitting in the hottest part of the fire.  “It’ll be a few minutes though.  I don’t have a fancy solar-powered hot plate like you.”

“I wish I would have thought about a solar-powered air compressor,” she openly complained. “I don’t know why it died so quickly.  The batteries were brand new.”

“Cold temperatures decrease battery life,” I said.  “You should keep your batteries in your sleeping bag with you at night.”

“Oh.” Her pretty features crinkled in thought. “You don't suppose we’ll be stopping at a store soon so I can get more batteries?”

“I wouldn’t hold my breath,” I snorted.  The way she’d phrased her question made it sound like a routine errand to Costco. “My dad's philosophy is to stay as far away from cities as possible.”

“But we’ve got to replenish our supplies sometime, right?”

“Nope.” I shook my head. “Besides, nothing guarantees that bandits haven’t already looted every store we come across.  It’s safer to stay away.”

“We’re going to die,” Nora said stubbornly.

“We’ve got all the water we could ever want,” I pointed out, “and we can hunt.  My dad has small animal traps. That's where they are right now – checking on the traps he set out last night.” I didn’t like my dad’s plan any more than Nora did, but I wasn’t going to tell her that.

She sat down heavily next to me, looking sour.  I regarded her out of the corner of my eye.  She seemed to be massaging the lower half of her face.

“Are you okay?”

“Not that you actually care.”  She made a pained face.  “My jaw hurts,” she complained.  “I was blowing up my air mattress most of the night.  It kept deflating.  I think it has a leak.”

“Your breath is different from the air that comes from an air compressor.” I grabbed the handle of the copper pot with a gloved hand and shook the kettle, slurring around the slowly melting snow. “The moisture in your breath is warm and when it cools, the molecules shrink, causing the air mattress to deflate, too.”

Nora blinked a few times as she stared silently at me.  “How do you know that stuff?”

I shrugged and kept stirring up the fire, shifting hunks of dead wood to make the fire burn hotter and faster.  “It’s common sense,” I said.  “It’s not that hard to figure out.”

“There’s no such thing as common sense,” Nora argued.

Despite my vow to be nicer, she was quickly chipping away at my resolve. “Do you argue just to hear the sound of your own voice?”

“No,” she scoffed.  “I just think the phrase ‘common sense’ is overused.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said drolly.

“How do you and your grandma manage to sleep on the ground without an air mattress?” Nora asked.  “Isn’t it cold?”

“I have a sleeping pad.  It’s like sleeping on a roll of insulation without all that itchy pink fiberglass.  I’ve also got a liner inside my sleeping bag, which is already rated for negative ten degrees Fahrenheit.  The liner adds another ten degrees of warmth.”

She stared at me for so long that I started to become self-conscious.  “What?” I said, annoyance creeping into my tone.  I shoved my hat back a little on my forehead.

She shook her head.  “Nothing.  It’s just that I think this is the most you’ve ever said to me in one sitting.”

I looked away from her and stared into the fire. “Yeah, well…” I cleared my throat, “don’t get used to it.”

+++++

Traveling that day was miserable.  It was cold.  Freezing.  Possibly the coldest day to hit us since leaving Williston.  The sun refused to budge from behind a giant cloudbank, and I worried if this was the new normal to which we’d have to adjust.

“Dad.” Nora’s clear voice cut through the icy weather. “I can’t feel my toes.  They really hurt.”

We’d been traveling for a few hours that morning and even I was starting to feel the bitter pinch of the frigid temperatures.  No matter how briskly I moved through the snow, I couldn’t get myself warm.

“Well, which is it, Nora?” Mr. West snapped. “Can you not feel your toes or do they hurt?” I think the combination of cold and fatigue was starting to wear on everyone in our group.

“They hurt.”

“How many pairs of socks are you wearing?” my dad asked.

Nora looked startled by the question or simply because my father had spoken to her.  I assumed the latter.  I didn’t think he’d addressed her directly since they’d joined our group.  “Um, like four or five,” she guessed.

My dad rolled his eyes for the first time in his life.  Nora, however, looked lost. “What’s wrong?” she asked.  “I layered.  I didn’t want my feet to get cold.”

“You’re wearing too many socks,” I said.  I tried to keep my tone even because it seemed that both of our fathers were losing patience with her.  “You should have on two pairs of socks, max.”

She breathed out heavily through her nose.  “I didn’t know.”

My father stopped and dropped his pack on the ground.  “Go ahead and fix your feet,” he said gruffly. “We need to check our location anyway.”

Nora purposely put distance between herself and our fathers.  She sat down in a pile of snow and focused her attention on taking her boots off.

I shuffled in place, wiggling my toes inside my boots.  Normally when we took a break for water or to consult the map and compass I took the opportunity to rest.  Today, however, it was all I could do to keep moving and stay warm.

I regarded my father and Mr. West.  Although Mr. West seemed to be able to handle the Frost with the rest of us, he still exuded a persona that suggested he had lived exceedingly well before Apophis. It wasn’t just that he wore the outdoor gear that looked like it had come straight off a store mannequin. His straight, bleached teeth, healthy tan, and all-American good looks appeared out of place in the wilderness and more at home at the local country club.  He was a shorter man, probably no taller than 5 feet 9 inches, but he carried himself with the confidence of a man a full foot taller.  My father, tall and broad shouldered, dwarfed Mr. West in stature, but it was clear that he too sensed there was more to Jerry West.  It seemed to me these two men never would have socialized before Apophis.  Yet here they were, working together towards a common goal, even if it was apparent neither trusted the other explicitly.  It all made me think of my grandmother’s plea that I be nicer to Nora.

I looked over again at Nora.  She was still struggling to remove her boots.  I knew how my father operated.  If she wasn’t finished fixing her socks by the time he was ready to be on the move again, he’d leave her and our ticket to Eden behind.

I tromped over to where she sat.  She’d removed her gloves and was working on a particularly stubborn knot.  I watched how her fingers shook as she fumbled with the laces.

“Can I help?”

She looked up at the sound of my voice.  Her eyes were wide and startled.  “No, I’ll get it.”

I dropped to my knees in front of her and grabbed a booted foot.  “I’ll do this one and you get the other,” I said.  I tugged my gloves off with my teeth and dropped them next to me. “It’ll go twice as fast that way.”

She didn’t protest or kick me, so I bent my head and focused on the tight knots.  My fingernails were luckily longer than I usually kept them, so I was eventually able to pry the double knots loose. When I’d finished with the first boot, she was still working on the knots on her other shoe. Her hands had started shaking even harder than before.  There was no way she was going to be able to yank the laces free.  The knots were too tight.

I placed my hands over hers.  Her fingers were icy compared to my much warmer hands. “Put your gloves back on,” I instructed. “I’ve got this.”

A short while later I’d untied the knots in her other shoe.  I knew how much her nearly numb toes would be aching with pins and needles so I gingerly pried her feet free of the boots.  I needed to check for signs of frostbite before she put her shoes back on, so I carefully peeled away each sock, layer by layer, until I got down to her bare feet.  Her toes felt like solid icicles against my fingers, but there wasn’t any discoloring of the skin, so I knew she was just cold and not in danger of losing any toes.

I started to rub her feet to coax the circulation back into them.  I massaged each toe, one by one, starting with the big toe.  I gently but firmly pressed my thumb into the top of each toe and rubbed in small circles, going for deep tissue.  She remained silent as I diligently went through all ten toes.

“Better?” I continued to rub hard into the arch of her right foot.

She nodded.  I didn’t comment on the tears leaking from the corners of her eyes.  As fast as a tear appeared on her cheeks, she immediately wiped it away.

I chose two pairs of socks out of the five total that would keep her feet warm and dry without squishing her toes together and allowing them to freeze again.  I slipped them both over her left foot, making sure not to pull the material too tight and then I did the same for her right foot.

“You can put your boots back on now,” I said.  “I’d keep the laces around your foot a little looser and then keep them tighter around your ankles so they don’t slip off if you get stuck in a deep drift.”

“Thank you, Sam,” she murmured quietly as she started to lace up her left boot. “I didn’t know about the sock thing.”

“It’s okay,” I brushed off, not wanting to make a big deal out of it.  I leaned back on my haunches.  My knees were starting to get cold from resting on them in the snow. “You couldn’t have known all those socks were hurting rather than helping you.”

“How did you know about it though?” she sniffled, wiping at her nose.

“My dad.  I mean, once it started to get colder and the snow was still thick on the ground even in July, it seemed pretty important to learn those kinds of things.”

She nodded.  Her eyes still looked wet and the extra moisture made them practically glimmer.  “You just said another full sentence to me,” she remarked.  “I thought I wasn’t supposed to get used to that.”

I slapped the top of her boot and she whimpered a little.  The circulation must have still been coming back to her toes.  I instantly felt guilty the moment I nudged her.  I didn’t mean to hurt her.  I was so physically awkward sometimes. “Yeah, well, don’t step in a bear trap or something just so I’ll talk to you more.”

I rose and brushed the snow away from my knees.  I left Nora’s side and went back over to see how my grandma was doing.  While my father and Mr. West consulted their maps, she had taken out her yarn and needles again.  She never was content just to sit and rest; she always had to be doing something.  It amazed me, at her advanced age, how resilient she’d been this entire crisis.

“That was thoughtful of you, Sam,” my grandma remarked as she continued to knit or crochet.  I didn’t know the difference between the two; that kind of thing had never interested me.

“It’s no big deal,” I shrugged off. “I just knew that neither Dad nor Mr. West were gonna help her.”

“She seems like a nice enough girl,” my grandma said nodding.  She twisted the yarn around her gloved hands. “A little clueless, perhaps, but I’m glad there’s someone your age tagging along so you don’t just have your very old grandma to keep you company.”

“You get better with age, Gran,” I protested.

I hazarded a glance toward Nora who’d recently finished tying up her boots.  She grinned broadly in my direction, and I quickly looked away, embarrassed to have been caught looking again.  I needed to stop doing that.

“Help an old lady up, Sam,” my grandma said, reaching up for me.  “My knees are as old as I am.”

“I don’t know why you talk like that, Gran,” I chastised as I helped her to her feet.  “You’re going to outlive us all.”

She smiled gently at me.  “It’s because I’m so stubborn, dear.  Neither God nor the Devil wants me.”

+++++

The next morning I woke up to an empty tent.  My grandmother had always been an early riser.  The traveling should have been taking its toll on her aged bones and joints – the long, brutal days made even my 20-year-old body feel decades older – but she’d proven herself just as capable of the long days as anyone in our group.  Her sleeping bag was rolled up tight along with the sleeping pad.  On top was her knitting.  The scarf she’d been making was completed and neatly folded on top of her sleeping kit.  I wondered what she’d make next.

I squinted into the sun when I unzipped the tent’s front flap to go outside.  Sunglasses had been an oversight – I’d never thought of needing them.  It was perpetual winter, after all.  But if anything, the glare of the sun was even harsher the way the daylight reflected off the snowy ground cover.

The fire had been re-stoked from the previous night.  I felt like things were getting more comfortable between Nora and myself – or at least I’d stopped having childish tantrums and stomping out the fire prematurely.  The smell of campfire and charred meat greeted my senses.  Mr. West and Nora weren’t up yet; my dad sat by himself, tending to a hunk of unidentifiable meat.

“Smells good,” I observed, sitting down beside him on a sleeping pad he’d thrown over the cold ground.

He grunted and turned the meat on a homemade spit.  “It’s rabbit,” he said without emotion.  He picked up his hunting knife and carved off one of the meaty legs for me.

The meat was still hot from the fire, and I gingerly tossed what had been the animal’s left leg back and forth between my fingers. “Rabbit?  Did you catch it with a Y-branch spring trap?”

He nodded and poked at the fire with a stick.

I was impressed; we had practiced making all kinds of small animal traps back in Williston, but we’d only ever caught squirrels and chipmunks.  This was the first rabbit he’d caught.  It also was encouraging to know that rabbits still existed.  Most larger animals like deer and bear wouldn’t have survived this long of a winter freeze.

“Where’s Gran?” I asked around a mouthful of rabbit. The meat was greasy and warm, and I wiped the juices off my mouth with the back of my hand. The meat on the squirrels and other small animals we caught were getting leaner, but I tried not to let signs that things were getting progressively worse worry me.

“She left.”

My teeth sank into the dark meat of a tiny thigh, and they stayed there. “What?” came my garbled question around my breakfast.

My dad stoked the fire with a sturdy-looking branch. The hot embers glowed hotter. “She took off early this morning.  She thought she was slowing us down, so she left.”

I let the rabbit meat fall away from my mouth.  I had been starving when I’d first woken up, but now I’d lost my appetite.  “And you just let her go?” I demanded.

“It wasn’t my decision to make, Samantha,” my dad said in a low, even tone that maddened me. Normally I found his stoicism comforting, but right now he was coming across as an emotionless robot. “She thought she was doing us a favor.” He breathed in through his nose and it made a rattling noise.  “I gave her my tent, so I’ll need to bunk with you from now on.”

I stared down at my breakfast, blinking away the tears.  “Okay.”

I suddenly remembered seeing my grandmother and father talking near the fire the previous night.  I hadn’t been able to hear what they’d been talking about; they’d spoken with heads bent close and Nora had been chewing off my ear about something that now seemed vapid and unimportant. Whatever they had been talking about had seemed serious though.  The light from the fire had cast an eerie glow on their serious visages.

I stood up abruptly.  “I’m, uh, I’m gonna go find some more wood for the fire,” I announced.

My dad stared at me for a moment.  We didn’t need more wood; the fire was big enough to melt snow and he’d already cooked the rabbit meat.  We’d be packing up and leaving in a short while.  But he seemed to understand that I needed space.  “Okay,” he said, nodding slowly.  “Don’t go too far though.”

+++++

I couldn’t breathe.  I sucked in deep, gasping sobs as I crashed through the thin forest, putting distance between myself and our campsite.  If any bandits had been lurking nearby, they would most certainly have heard and found me.  But I didn’t care.  I threw myself down on a built-up snowdrift when it felt like my lungs were going to explode inside my chest.  I wanted to scream.  I wanted to howl.  I hadn’t properly mourned my mother’s death and now, combined with my grandmother’s unannounced departure, the flood gates had opened. Tears stung my eyes and burned down my sunburned cheeks.

I had bonded better with my father growing up.  We talked sports; we talked cars.  I had few things in common with my mom besides shared DNA.  She loved gardening and baking and scrapbooking.  She was always reading the latest chic-lit novel from the New York Times bestseller list or going to the movies with her friends to see the newest romantic comedy starring whichever celebrity People magazine had named Sexiest Man alive.  I didn’t have the patience for any of that.  What I wouldn’t do to be able to go back and watch Love Actually with my mom.

I stopped and tensed when I heard the unmistakable sound of twigs snapping beneath boots. What had moments ago been uncontrollable sobs, stilled in my throat. Now you’ve done it, Sam. I scolded myself.  You’ve announced to the world where you are.

I held my breath, expecting the worst.  I was sure a bandit had found me.

“Do you need help?” Nora’s annoyingly sexy, yet concerned voice alerted me. “Your dad said you were getting wood for the fire.” I didn’t know how she’d found me, but I’d probably made footprints the size of Yeti’s in my scramble to get away.

“No, I’ve got it.” I scooped up a handful of twigs, hoping she hadn’t seen me crying.  My errand was of the futile variety and I wondered if she knew that.

“I want to help.  I feel so useless,” she said, flapping her arms like a flightless penguin.  If I wasn’t so concerned about masking my emotions, I might have actually found it endearing. “Your dad won’t let me help either.”

“He probably figures you’ll just mess something up,” I answered truthfully. My statement wasn't meant to be a reflection on her competency, but she seemed to take it like that.  She made a frustrated noise, huffing and scowling. My dad was a very independent man, but I also think he harbored some OCD tendencies.  He was unusually particular about certain things – like how you folded bath towels – and his quirks had worsened since we’d left Williston.  Things had to be just so for him to feel a sliver of stability or control.  I guess I could understand why he felt that way.  I was craving some stability as well.

“I’m sorry about your grandma.”

I felt my lower chin start to wobble and tremble.  No, not now.  Not in front of her.  Keep it together, Sam.

Nora continued staring at me and I was in awe of her boldness.  I hated confronting sickness or sadness.  Whenever people told me sad stories it made me uncomfortable. Nora, however, seemed unaffected, yet genuine.

“We should sleep in the same tent,” I blurted out.  As soon as the words tumbled out, I recoiled.  I didn’t know why I had said the words out loud.  Perhaps my grandmother’s departure had left me feeling a little vulnerable and needing to make connections.

Nora arched a pale eyebrow.  “Is that a pickup line?” Her mouth curled at the edges.  “Does that kind of fancy talk work on the kids back where you’re from?”

I could feel a blush warming my normally icy cheekbones.  “My dad gave my grandma his tent when she left, and I really don’t want to share a tent with him,” I said, ignoring her jab.  “He snores like a semi-truck downshifting.”

Nora smirked at me. “So I’d be doing you a huge favor, huh?”

“It’d help you, too,” I interjected. “Our combined body heat will keep the tent at a higher temperature if we stay together.  We could share a floor pad so you don’t have to keep blowing up your air mattress.”

“I had no idea you were a cuddler.  You don’t look like the type.”

“Can you be serious for a second?” I said, throwing my hands up in frustration.

“Probably not.  I say inappropriate things when I’m worried or scared,” she admitted.  “It’s kind of my thing.”

“Well there’s nothing to be scared about,” I said with a confidence I didn’t know I possessed anymore.  “My dad knows his stuff.  He’ll get us where we need to go.”

She bit down on her bottom lip, but finally gave a tiny, barely perceptible nod.

“And what do you mean I don’t look like a cuddler?” I demanded.

She grinned at me, almost mischievously, and walked back in the direction of our campsite, leaving me on my own to wonder about her comment.

+++++

My dad pushed us harder than before after my grandmother left.  I didn’t know if it was his way of coping – to just keep moving and put as much distance between us and sadness – or if there was a reason for his haphazard actions.  My stable, reliable rock seemed to be falling apart.

My mother had always been the voice of reason on those rare occasions when he acted recklessly.  With her gone though, I supposed that task fell to me.  I’d never been very good at communicating with my dad.  Maybe he and I were too similar, too stubborn, too convinced of always being right, to really get along.

I was keeping up fine with our hurried pace and long hours, but I could tell that Mr. West was struggling.  When I noticed the redness of his face and the ragged tug of his breath, I jogged up to my father’s side at the head of our small caravan.  “We should stop for the night soon.”

He glanced at me, meeting my gaze without blinking, but said nothing.

“Mr. West is really starting to struggle,” I added.

He made a noncommittal sound.  It was a move I’d pulled a hundred times and now I knew why it pissed so many people off.

“It’s not smart for us to keep going, Dad,” I tried instead, speaking to his logical side.  “The moon’s not that bright tonight.  We could get lost or one of us could fall into a crevice or something.”

He stopped abruptly and I nearly stumbled over him.  “Is there something you want to say to me, Samantha?” He looked at me hard.

“No, I just…we’re just…” I stumbled over my words. “I get wanting to reach Eden as soon as possible, but it’s not helping anyone if the guy who’s supposed to help us find it doesn’t make it.”

“I suppose we’ve gone far enough tonight,” he grunted.

“We must be getting close, right?” I asked, trying to pry some information from him about the location of Eden.  It didn’t make sense to me why he was being so close-lipped about this secret facility.  But my father was a man of few words.  He’d always kept his emotions to himself, and since my mother’s death, he’d closed up even more.

I’d dissected a starfish in high school biology once.  Starfish knew just how much pressure and energy to use to slowly exhaust a tight-clamped clam.  Eventually the clam would tire and the starfish would pry open its shell.  Then it kind of pushed its stomach out through its bellybutton to consume the vulnerable, tender flesh of the clam.

My dad was like that tight-lipped, frightened clam.  I just wish I were clever enough to get him to open up.  I wanted to yell at him.  Shake him out of this funk.  Remind him that he still had me.  I felt powerless, but also like I would never be enough – he’d lost both his wife and mother.

In a way, I suppose I was thankful we’d bumped into the Wests.  Not only did Eden give us something to hope for, but they were two more travel partners.  It would have been a very lonely existence only traveling with my reticent father across the country.

+++++

I didn’t know why I felt so nervous. Okay, that was a lie. I knew exactly what it was that had put me on edge.  Nora and I were going to share a tent for the first time that night. I used to feel this same discomfort moments before I would hang out with Andrea after I’d labeled my feelings for her as more than just friendly. That same uneasy knot I’d feel in my stomach had settled into my gut as I waited for Nora to come to the tent.  Even though she annoyed the hell out of me, I couldn’t deny that she was attractive.  Her voice made me literally weak in the knees and the reward of her smile could warm even the iciest day.

Like Nora’s pack and winter parka, the tent was top of the line. The ones my family had were nice enough – they weren't made of that cheap tent material that leaked when you touched the walls of the tent – but Nora’s was a lot nicer.  Her tent was bigger than the one I had shared with my grandmother, and it was pale pink instead of our hunter green.  Neither color was inconspicuous in the snow so I couldn’t justify being annoyed by the lack of camouflage.  It also smelled very girlie. I always smelled like campfire, which I didn’t mind, but somehow Nora managed to always smell feminine and sweet.

Before I had laid out my sleeping bag for the night, I’d detached my sleeping pad from my backpack and had unrolled it to cover much of the bottom of Nora’s tent.  It was probably a four-person tent, and the extra space was more than enough for our two bodies and our few belongings; it would be nice not being crammed like I’d been in the tent with my grandma.  Between the high-rated tent and lined cocoon sleeping bags we didn’t need to huddle together to share body heat.  I frowned looking down at my foam pad laid out on the tent floor.  If both of us wanted to share the foam pad to put that extra layer between ourselves and the frozen ground, we’d have to snuggle up.

I snapped to attention at the sound of a zipper unfastening as Nora made her way into the tent.

“You’d better not snore,” she said curtly.

I didn’t know what had gotten her so pissy, but I didn’t push back even though I wanted to.  She could easily revoke her invitation and I’d have to sleep in my old tent with my dad.  It wasn’t the worst thing that could happen, but as much as I hated to admit it, I preferred Nora’s company to my dad’s. When she wasn’t complaining she was relatively inoffensive.  It was an improvement over the grunts my dad routinely tried to pass as conversation.

I self-consciously adjusted my ski cap on my head. “If I do you can kick me out.”

“Yeah, but then who am I going to cuddle with?” she countered, effortlessly downshifting from pissy to flirty.

We both settled into our respective sleeping bags. Without my foam pad directly beneath me, I could feel the chill seeping up through the ground.  I wasn’t going to whine or complain though.  I’d suffered through worse.

“Are you even on the sleeping pad?” Nora asked.  I’d tried to put as much space as I could between our sleeping bags without being obvious, but it was clear she’d noticed.

“I’m fine. I’m warm enough without it,” I insisted. My frozen body would hate me in the morning, but it seemed like a better option than the alternative of sleeping cozied up to an attractive girl.  I knew too well the punishment of being close to something you could never have.

“Wiggle over here, Sammy,” Nora called out playfully. “There's plenty of room next to me.”

“I don’t think anyone’s called me Sammy since kindergarten.”

“Well I think it’s cute,” Nora remarked. “I’m bringing it back.”

“I wish you wouldn’t.” I’d always hated that nickname.

“This sleeping pad is actually pretty impressive,” Nora announced. She twisted in her sleeping bag so she was facing me. “I mean, it’s no inflatable mattress, but it’ll do.”

“I can’t believe you actually packed one of those,” I snorted. I rolled around a bit.  A tree root was jutting into my tailbone.  What I wouldn’t do for an inflatable mattress right now.

“It was fine when we were driving,” she defended herself. “I plugged the air compressor into the cigarette lighter in the car.  And then we slept in the back of the SUV with the seats folded down.”

“You two never considered what would happen when your car ran out of gas?”

“I don’t think either of us knew it would be so bad out here, too,” she said, her voice getting quiet and somber. “It made sense that the cities would be a mess, but I guess it was a little naive to think it would be any better out here.”

I sighed and looked at the tent ceiling. “I don’t think anyone could have imagined it would ever get this bad.”

+++++

CHAPTER SEVEN

In those days after my grandmother’s departure, life once again fell into a routine.  We’d wake up, build a fire and eat whatever my father’s traps had caught during the night, take down our campsite and travel during the daylight hours, stopping only to hydrate and consult maps.  When the sun came close to setting, we’d stop for the night.  Our fathers had the task of setting up the tents while Nora and I gathered whatever dry wood we could find in the vicinity for that night’s fire.  It became a kind of competition between the two of us – who could find the most wood, who could find the driest wood.

Despite my attempt to be nicer to Nora, I found moments when my annoyance got the best of me.  And to her credit, Nora never backed down from a good verbal fight, particularly on the coldest days, when fuses were shorter and tempers flared.  I was sure it was driving both of our dads crazy.  It probably wouldn’t have surprised either of them if we had busted out with an “Are we there yet?”

When our dads crammed around the road maps and made plans for the next day they probably entertained the thought of leaving us both behind. We were all starting to get sick of so much time together with no one else to talk to.  It was a never-ending road trip. I felt like we’d been walking forever, but we were still only in Montana.  It seemed like we were crossing the entire country, not just a single state.   Reaching Eden felt like an impossible task.

It had gotten late enough that we would soon be setting up camp for the night when we came across something I didn’t think I’d ever see again.  Running water.

“What is this place?”

My father crouched beside me in the snow and peered into the small body of water. “It looks like a mineral spring. I can’t understand why it’s not frozen over though,” he said, thinking out loud.

Nora fell to her knees beside me and plunged her hands into the pool of water.  The protest died in my throat when she appeared to be fine.  Her gloves would be soaked through, but she’d be able to dry them over the fire we would build tonight.

“It’s warm.” Her voice was so quiet and softly reverent I almost didn’t hear it.

I pulled off my gloves and tentatively dipped my hands into the water.  It was warm.  I stared at the way my hands moved through the water without obstacle, relishing in the way the liquid slipped through my fingers.  I cupped my hands and experimentally brought some to my mouth.  God, it tasted good.  I drank greedily, letting some of the water spill past my lips and down my chin.  It was a luxury I had nearly forgotten.

My head whipped up when I heard the distinct sound of branches snapping.  Someone was lurking in the woods.

My dad’s voice filled my head.  A single word. “Run!”

I immediately scrambled to my feet and took off in the direction where my father had gone.  I took only a moment to look behind me.  Nora and Mr. West were close behind, and following them were several darkly dressed figures.  Bandits.  I didn’t take the time to count the bodies, but I could tell they easily outnumbered us.

I picked up my knees to trudge more quickly through the uneven terrain and high snow banks, but it had gotten dark and I was moving too haphazardly.  I knew something was wrong the moment my right boot made contact with the ground.  Something shifted beneath my step.  My body went one way and my ankle went the other.  I couldn’t hear the popping sound over the heavy crunch of boots tearing through old snow and the loud noises of being chased, but I could certainly feel it.  I shrieked in pain, but also in surprise as my leg gave out on my unsure footing and I fell hard to the ground.  My knees hit against something that stuck out of the snow-covered ground.  It felt like a tree root, but it might as well have been made out of concrete.

My dad heard my cry and spun around to come back for me.  But before he could reach me, a head swooped under my armpit and a sturdy arm wrapped tight around my torso.

“Get up, Sammy,” Nora gritted through clenched teeth as she helped me to my feet.

My dad appeared satisfied that I was being helped and he turned back around to focus on evading the group pursuing us.

“Don’t call me Sammy,” I said through gritted teeth.

I couldn’t put weight on my ankle.  Every step was excruciating.  I couldn’t have been quiet if I’d wanted to.  Every time my right foot touched the ground, I let out a tortured sob.  I began to panic. What if I’d done something serious to injure my foot?  There were no walk-in clinics, no emergency rooms for broken bones and torn tendons. What if I couldn’t walk as before? What if my dad had to leave me behind to survive?

“Just a little faster,” Nora coaxed in my ear.  The weight of her arm held fast around my waist, but it felt like an anchor.

“I-I don’t think I can,” came my shaky reply.  I thought I had a high tolerance for pain, but I felt like I might pass out or at least throw up.

“Forget about using your right foot.  Use me like a crutch,” she urged.

I nodded and swallowed down another wave of nausea that had been brought on by the pain.

“Put down the gun!” an unfamiliar voice called out.

Nora and I both froze.  Instead of continuing to run away, Nora’s father had produced a handgun.  The people chasing us stopped as well and formed a half circle around our group. Mr. West kept waving the gun around, changing his aim on a new masked figure every few seconds.

“We mean you no harm,” one of the men called out to us.

“Then why the hell do you have guns aimed at us?" Mr. West yelled back.

The man said something to the other members of his group, but we were too far away to hear his muddled instructions.  Regardless, the others lowered their weapons at his command.  Only when the other group holstered their rifles did Mr. West lower his firearm as well.  He didn’t put it away though; his right hand was still wrapped around the pistol grip, but it hung loosely at his side.

The man who seemed to be in charge of the darkly dressed group surveyed us. “You look like you could use some assistance.”  His gaze seemed to linger on Nora and me.  Her arm was still tight around my waist.  In our panic to get away, I hadn’t had time to feel uncomfortable by her closeness, but now that we’d stopped, I was acutely aware of every tense squeeze around my torso.

“We're fine,” my father crisply informed the strangers.  He pulled himself up to his full, impressive height and threw his shoulders back.  I knew he was trying to look intimidating and strong, but they clearly outnumbered us and were armed. “We’re just passing through. We’ll be on our way in the morning or tonight yet if that’s what you’d like.”

“I can’t let you leave.” My stomach dropped at the masked man’s words. “It wouldn’t feel right sending you on your way with part of your group injured.”

I breathed a sigh of relief.  Maybe we’d be okay.

“She hurt her leg and she’s in too much pain to go anywhere,” Nora informed everyone, speaking on my behalf apparently, and sounding brattier than usual.

She trailed off when one of the men approached us.  He promptly stooped and picked me up.  He literally swept me off my feet and an embarrassingly girlie squeak slipped out of my mouth.

“Is this okay?” he asked me.

Nora looked unimpressed. “Yeah, I guess that works, too,” she answered for me again.

We marched away from the woods and the mineral stream until we came upon a small, deserted town less than a mile away.  Well, I didn’t march. I was carried like some damsel in distress.  I felt ridiculous and embarrassed.  I didn’t know what to do with my head. I didn’t want to rest it against this stranger’s shoulder, but my neck was getting stiff from holding myself so rigid and erect.

No one spoke, which fed into my feeling of foreboding.  No one asked who we were, where had come from, or where we were headed to.  And no one in our group asked the men who they were or where they were taking us.  I wanted to speak up, but I took my cue from my father and remained silent despite the questions milling through my brain.

The little town was dark, just like every other city across the country.  Store-front windows were intact and the buildings were graffiti free. I wondered how this place had not been looted by bandits or even its own townspeople.  We turned into the parking lot of the town’s public high school.  “Welcome! Home of the Savage Heat” was written in magnetic letters on the front kiosk.  Its irony was lost on no one.

I thought we were going inside the high school, but we walked right past the main building and marched in the direction of the sports fields behind the school.  We finally stopped when we reached a metal shack near the track.  It looked like it might have been a concession stand before the Frost.  The man who seemed to be in charge pulled out a ring of keys and unlocked the blue metal door. He went inside and we followed.

With no windows, it was pitch black inside the concession building.  It smelled like popcorn and dirt.  Our group kept moving and I lost my sense of place.  Where were we walking to?  How big was this building? I might have been imagining it, but it felt like we were traveling at a decline and walking into the earth.

We stopped again.  I heard the jangle of keys coming from the front of the group, followed by the sound of a heavy metal door swinging open.  When the door opened there was a light glowing on the other side.  I tried to get a better sense of where we were with the addition of this new light, but there still were no windows and the walls looked like they were constructed of thick metal painted with the same kind of glossy, anti-rust paint you see on giant boats.

We walked into what I could only imagine was an underground bunker.  More and more questions flooded my head. How big was this place? How was it lit up like a Christmas tree when everything else was dark?  How long had it been here?  Was this what Eden was like?

We were now in a wide hallway when the massive vault-like door was closed behind us, basically locking us in.  I felt claustrophobic.  I squirmed, trying to break free of the masked man’s hold on me, but his grip only tightened.  Some of the group took off their ski masks and walked away, unconcerned about the fate of us, the newcomers.

“Stay right here,” the man in charge instructed.  “I’m going to call our doctor so she can take a look at your injuries.” A few moments later, his voice echoed over an unseen PA system. “Paging Doctor Allyse. Doctor Allyse to the sick-bay.”  The man still carrying me started to walk down the hallway.

“You can put me down whenever,” I said, uselessly swinging my legs.

“Nope.  Taking you to see the doctor,” he replied determinedly.

“I’m really okay,” I insisted. “I just tweaked my ankle a little.”  I twisted my head so I could see behind us.  My ankle did actually throb, but I didn’t want to get separated from my group.

“Where are you taking her?” Nora called after us.

The man stopped and turned on his heels to address her. “I'm taking her to the infirmary,” he said. “She needs that ankle looked at.”

“I’ll come with,” Nora chirped.

The masked man tried to reason with her, but he underestimated her stubbornness. “That’s really not –.”

“I’m coming with,” Nora insisted. “We’re all coming with.” Her tone indicated she wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

The “hospital” wasn’t much to look at.  It was really nothing more than an average-sized room, much like a bedroom, populated with a few cots and shelves and cabinets.  I saw no fancy medical equipment or anything that looked vaguely hospital-like.

An attractive woman, probably in her late-twenties or early-thirties, rushed into the room.  It was clear we’d woken her up.  Her shiny brunette hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail and wild strands stubbornly stuck out.  She wore teal scrubs which very well could have been pajamas, or her work uniform, or both.

“Ryan?” The woman stopped when she saw our rag-tag group crowded in the modest room. “Is that you under there?”

The man still wearing his ski-cap chuckled.  With his hands full of me, I suppose he couldn’t really take it off.  “Damn, you’re good, Doc.”

The woman, the doctor apparently, trained her gaze on me next.  “And who is this?” I saw her eyes move past me and land on my father, Mr. West, and Nora, who had been trailing closely behind. “And why are you the knight in shining ski-cap?”

“We found these folks over by the springs,” the man named Ryan said.  “They were pretty banged up, so we brought them down here.”

The woman’s face scrunched up.  “That’s never happened before.”

Ryan shrugged. “I know.  But Paul gave the order.”

“Must be nice to be on the council,” she snorted.  She cleared her throat loudly. “So what seems to be the problem?” she said, snapping into a more professional tone.

“My ankle,” I said weakly, still embarrassed that I’d been carried for what felt like a lifetime by this masked man.  “I twisted it.”  I tried to flex my foot to show her which one, but it ached too much.

“She hurt it when were running away from your goons,” Nora blurted out.

“Nora,” her father’s voice was low.

The doctor nodded curtly.  I had to hand it to the woman.  In her position, I would probably have been overwhelmed and confused by our sudden intrusion, but she seemed to take it all in stride.

“Ryan, set her on one of the cots.  And you,” she said, pointing at Mr. West, “get comfortable, too. I don’t like the look of your coloring.”

The doctor pressed her fingers into my skin and seemed to be feeling for something.  I sucked in a sharp breath when her fingers moved over a particularly tender spot.

“Well, it doesn’t appear to be broken,” she announced after a little more poking and prodding.  “It’s probably just a nasty sprain.  If we had an x-ray machine or an MRI scanner I could tell you more, but we’ve got to make due with the resources we have.”

“Thank you for taking a look at it,” I said, remembering my manners.  I hadn’t used them in a while.

She flashed me a toothy smile.  I instantly liked her.  “It’s what I get paid the big bucks for,” she brushed off.

She wrapped my ankle tight in an ace bandage and securely fastened two metal butterfly clips to keep the wrap in place. “Keep it elevated as much as you can,” she instructed. “I’ll get you some ibuprofen to keep the swelling down.”

“And what happened to you?" she asked, turning to Mr. West who was seated on a nearby cot.  She straightened her ponytail.

“Just a little cut,” he said, touching his fingers to his forehead. “I’m fine.”

The doctor yanked off his ski cap and Mr. West made a pained noise. “Just a little cut,” she echoed mockingly.  She removed the bandage that my grandmother had applied days ago.  “This needs stitches,” she said, frowning at the wound. “You’re lucky it’s not worse with all the dirt and sweat and fire ash and who knows what else getting into this open wound.”  She looked to Ryan who, for some reason, had yet to take off his ski mask. “I’m going to grab these folks some extra clothes to sleep in and then, Ryan, why don’t you show them to the bunks while I stitch up their friend?”

“Absolutely not,” Nora’s voice rang out. Of course she would object.

“Nora, I’ll be fine,” her father coaxed. “Go get settled and I’ll come find you when I’m done here with the doctor. Besides, Sam might need some help.”

I was about to object; why was everyone treating me like an invalid?

The masked man, Ryan, made a movement toward me, but I held up both my hands. “Not that I don’t appreciate the help,” I said, “but I’m going to take it from here.”

He shrugged, nonplussed. “Follow me to your bunks,” he announced.

I went to stand and before I was even to my feet, Nora was at my elbow. “I've got it,” I said under my breath.

“Stop being stubborn.” She grabbed my elbow and led me toward the doorway where my father and Ryan had gone.

It hadn’t gone unnoticed that my father hadn’t uttered a syllable since we got here. He was a quiet man, yes, but this silence was palpable.

“Where do you think we are?” Nora asked me in a hushed tone. Ryan and my father strode side-by-side ahead of us a few feet as Nora helped me hobble down a long corridor.  Like so much of what else I had seen of this place, it was well lit, windowless, and had a short ceiling.

“Underground, for sure,” I said, “but beyond that I have no idea.”

I didn’t see anyone else as we walked down the somber-looking hallway.  No sounds of life indicated if we were the only ones here. Ryan stopped at a juncture in the hallway. “Girls down that hallway and men down the other,” he said.

“We can’t stay together?” Nora worried aloud.

“It’s the rules,” he said.

“But we’re a family,” Nora objected.  “You can’t split up family.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Ryan shrugged again. “I’m down here with my mom and my little sister.  They’re in the female bunks and I’m over in the men’s bunks.  You’ll have to hand over your backpacks, too.”

“Why?” This time I was the one with the question.

“It’s the rules,” he echoed his earlier statement. “Hoarding is explicitly not allowed. You don’t want to start a riot in the bunk houses.  If you want to stay, this is the way it is.”

All three of us reluctantly parted with our backpacks. I felt vulnerable and not a little naked without it.  It had been my constant companion since we’d left Williston.

“It’s lights out right now, so be as quiet as you can,” Ryan noted. “Find yourself a free bunk.  Breakfast is in the mess hall between 06 and 08 hundred tomorrow.”

“Where’s that?” Nora asked.

Ryan jerked his thumb in the direction from where we’d just come. “It’s near the doctor’s office. Just follow the stream of people. Everyone will be going there tomorrow morning.”

“Will you two be alright on your own?” It was the first words my father had uttered we’d gone underground.

Nora slung her arm around my shoulder awkwardly.

“Don’t worry, Mr. P,” she said with sunshine in her voice. “I’ll keep Sam out of trouble.”

He looked between the two of us, looking unconvinced. “I'll see you in the morning at breakfast.”

+++++

The women’s bunkroom was large with tall, vaulted ceilings. It reminded me of a high school gymnasium that had been crammed with bunk-beds.  The room was dark, but not pitch black.  There were no windows, but skylights in the tall ceiling provided just enough moonlight for us to maneuver around until we found a vacant twin bunk.

The bed was crisply made up and the sheets smelled musty, but it was a bed and we were safe and warm. The mattress creaked and groaned beneath me.  It wasn’t the most comfortable bed I’d ever slept on, but it was certainly cozier than the frozen ground we’d been sleeping on lately.

My stomach growled and I wished I still had my backpack and some extra-salted jerky to fight the dull ache in my stomach. The promise of a hot breakfast in the morning would have to tide me over for the next few hours.

“Sam?”

I looked up at the coils of Nora’s mattress above me.  I’d gotten the bottom bunk by default.  With my swollen ankle there was no way I’d be able to climb up to the top.

“Are you awake?”

“No,” I grumbled.  “Go to sleep, Nora.”

I heard her heavy sigh.  “I can’t sleep.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Is it weird that I’m sleeping in a room with 200 other people, and I’m actually lonely?”

“Keep it down!” came a sharp, hissed whisper.  “People are trying to sleep!”

“Mind your own business,” I snapped back to the darkness.

The mattress coils groaned and protested as Nora tried to get comfortable above me.  I watched the movement of the springs as her slight form tossed and turned.  God.  I hated her thrall over me.  I liked my space.  I hated that she was always crowding me.  Kind of.

“Nora,” I growled quietly.  “Get down here.”

“Really?”

“I won’t tell you again.”

The mattress made more noises as she scrambled off her bed and down to my own.  I moved to one side of the twin-sized mattress and she wiggled in next to me.  The heat radiating off of her body was going to make me sweat in more ways than one.

“Thank you, Sammy,” she whispered.

“Don’t call me Sammy,” I quietly hissed.

“I know.”

“Go to sleep.”

+++++

CHAPTER EIGHT

The next morning, I woke up to Nora’s hand between my thighs.  She was still sleeping soundly beside me, her breathing slow and even, but her hand seemed to have other plans.  Somehow during the night it had migrated up my leg and was now rested against the bare skin of my inner left thigh.  The sleep shorts Doctor Allyse had given me had ridden up at some point in the night, too, so there was no barrier between the heat of her palm and my naked skin. It was completely innocent, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t feeling equal parts awkward and turned on.

I had limited options.  I could wake her up and experience her wrath – I could practically guarantee she’d turn on Turbo Bitch Mode if I made a big deal about where her hand had spent the night.  I could try to wiggle out of bed like some masochist coyote ugly reject and pray she didn’t wake up in the middle of my escape.  Or, I could go back asleep and pretend it had never happened and just hope her hand was gone by the time I woke up.

Unfortunately, I didn’t have time to make any of those decisions for myself.

“Good morning, Sammy.” If I had thought her voice uncommonly attractive before, it paled in comparison to the way my name rolled off her tongue first thing in the morning.  I felt her dangerously placed hand give me a firm squeeze.

I immediately sat up and threw the covers off of me.  I think all that traveling through snow and icy winds had altered my body’s internal temperature.  I could feel the sweat start to trickle down the small of my back.

Nora sat up slowly in bed.  “Where are you going, weirdo?” Her eyebrows crunched together.

“I’m gonna go check on my dad,” I called out as I escaped out of the bunk house.

+++++

I looked up at the ugly rattle of a plastic food tray plunking down next to me.  I expected to see Nora and her knowing smirk, but was instead surprised to see a tall, dark-haired guy, who looked fresh out of high school.  He settled into the vacant seat right next to me.  It was a little unnerving.  The cafeteria wasn’t all that crowded and there were plenty of other seats available.  That he decided to take the seat right next to mine was honestly annoying.  I liked my space.

I had come directly to the mess hall from the men’s bunks.  I probably should have stopped back at the women’s bunk to pick up Nora before breakfast, but I was still rattled from our brief morning interaction.  The men’s bunks themselves were messy with their own unique odor from so many men living together in one space. It reminded me of the bachelor rows that had sprouted up in Williston during the oil boom. Men in various stages of undress shuffled around me, unconcerned about my presence. I had gotten so accustomed to people being bundled up because of the Frost that all that human flesh on display was a little disorienting.

Thankfully, I had found my father easily as he and Mr. West had claimed a bunk close to the main door.  I was relieved that my dad seemed to be back to his normal self.  His extreme silence the previous night had alarmed me.  I was thankful that he didn’t look so tired and worried anymore.  Maybe this was the break he had needed – that we all needed.

“How’s your ankle?”

The question from the guy sitting next to me was startling.  Either word moved really fast in this place, or he had been part of the group that had found us. Everyone had been wearing ski masks that covered everything but their eyes and mouths though; I wouldn’t have been able to recognize him from the previous night if I’d wanted to.

“I’m the one who carried you,” he clarified.

“Oh, uh.” I felt my face reddening.  “Thanks for the help.”

“Not a problem.” He grinned broadly.  “I’m Ryan, by the way.”

“Right.  I remember from last night,” I nodded. “I’m Samantha,” I introduced myself.  “But everyone calls me Sam.”

“You look familiar to me,” Ryan said as he dug into his breakfast sandwich.  “Have we met somewhere?  I mean, before last night?”

I crinkled my nose.  It was the end of the world and the pick-up lines still hadn’t improved.  “No. I just have one of those faces.  People say that all the time.”

He stared hard, really examining my face. “I swear I know you from somewhere.”

I shook my head.  “Sorry.  I don’t think so.”

Ryan shrugged and went back to devouring the food on his tray.  He didn’t really eat, it was more of a shoveling motion.  If he’d had better table etiquette I might have actually called him attractive – good cheekbones and a square, serious jaw.  His dark olive skin tone set off his closely-cropped jet black hair.  I figured he was at least part Native American like a good portion of the population in this part of the country.

“What is this place?” I asked.  “I mean, where exactly are we?”

“Underground.”

“Well, duh.” I rolled my eyes at the response. “But how and why does this place exist?"

“Mayor Klein used to be a professor over at Montana University.  I’m not sure what he taught, but it had something to do with science or space.” Ryan paused to chug down nearly half of his glass of water.  “When they first made the announcement about Apophis,” he continued, “Klein convinced the town to build this bunker. Like Noah and a big ass ark.”

“Your entire town is down here?” I openly gaped.

“Yup.” He grinned proudly. “Hot Springs, Montana, population just under 550.”

“Wow.  And I thought North Dakota was small.”

“Is that where you’re from?”

I nodded and took a tentative bite of a pile of mystery goo.  It tasted like a mixture of pudding and canned fruit.  “Yeah,” I said around my mouthful.  “I grew up just outside of Williston.  It was one of those towns that got built up because of the oil boom.”

“Cool.” Ryan wiped at his mouth with a napkin.  He balled it up and tossed it on his tray.  “Well, I gotta get going.  I’ve got kitchen duty.  I’ll see ya around, Sam.”

Once again seated by myself, I returned my attention to the food on my tray.  It wasn’t a feast, but the variety was a welcomed change from our usual fair of small game and canned fruit and vegetables.   The fresh baked bread was my favorite. It reminded me of my grandmother.

I felt the table move just slightly when Nora plopped down next to me.  She looked annoyed and I expected her to complain that I’d come to breakfast without her. “These powdered eggs look disgusting.”

“Beggers can’t be choosers,” I said.  I didn’t tell her that they tasted disgusting, too.  I’d let her discover that all on her own.

“Who was that guy you were talking to?” Nora asked.  She stabbed experimentally at the yellow glob on her tray.

“Just some guy,” I shrugged.  “He’s the one who carried me last night.”

Nora stared after Ryan.  “He’s kind of cute.  In a backwater kind of way,” she observed.  “I suppose that’s your type though.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I demanded.

“Nothing.”

I didn’t have time to dig deeper into her commentary because Nora’s father rushed over to our table.  I hadn’t seen him since the previous night and he had a fine line of black stitches high on his temple. “Hurry up and finish your breakfast, girls,” he said, looking red in the face.  “The Mayor wants to meet with us.”

+++++

Mayor Steven Klein was a diminutive man who wore a crisply ironed shirt tucked into pleated slacks. I didn’t know what I’d been expecting when Mr. West said we were going to meet the mayor of Hot Springs, but the man who stood up from behind an old metal desk when we entered his office, wasn’t the man I thought he’d be.  Maybe because this underground complex had such a militaristic, rigid feel to it I’d thought the mayor would be, I don’t know, taller? Former military?  More like the men who had found us near the springs themselves, at least.  It was a little like pulling the curtain away to reveal that the Great and Powerful Oz was only a man.

“Welcome, welcome,” the man cheerfully greeted.  He adjusted his too-large glasses on his nose.  They were the kind once fashionable in the 1970s that came back again, but it was clear that Steve Klein did nothing with irony.

“I had heard you all were a little worse for the wear.  How’s the leg?” he asked me.

I opened my mouth, but as usual, Nora was the first to speak up for me.  “She needs better medical attention than what you’ve provided.  I suggest rounding up a group of volunteers, heading over to the nearest hospital, and getting the medical supplies Dr. Allyse really needs.”

I glared at her.  I was so sick of her speaking on my behalf.  I had opinions.  I could handle my own business.  But I bit my tongue for the moment.  I didn’t want to squabble in front of this man.

Mayor Klein steepled his fingers and looked deep in thought.  “This here is a democracy, and I can’t just make decisions like that to use our town’s limited resources to go gallivanting around above ground in search of supplies.  But twice a month we hold city council meetings for decisions and grievances such as yours, and you’re more than welcome to petition the Council to consider your request.”

“How very evolved,” my father murmured beside me.

Mayor Klein flashed my father a smile. “Well, we do our best.  In times such as these, there’s need for structure and routine more than ever.”

“When’s the next meeting?” I asked.  I knew my ankle would be fine, but I was still curious.

“Next Monday.”

“What day is it today?” my father asked.  When we still lived in North Dakota he had kept careful record of the days of the week and the seasons that never came, but once we started on the road, those details had become unimportant.

“It’s Wednesday.”  Mayor Klein sat back on his desk.  “In the meantime, I’ll give the good doctor a call and authorize you for a hot springs bath.  The water here does miracles, you know.  In fact,” he chuckled at some untold joke, “our town’s motto is ‘Limp In, Leap Out.’”

A kind of awkward silence fell over us until Mr. West broke the ice. “This is an impressive structure, Mayor Klein,” he complimented.

Steve Klein shoved his hands into his pants pockets and leaned back on his heels. “Thank you. We try hard.”

“To be able to rig up a generator that works off geothermal energy,” Nora's father continued to openly admire, “that's no small accomplishment.”

Mayor Klein settled back on his feet.  “Are you familiar with such a thing?” he asked.  He looked with interest upon our small group for the first time as though maybe he’d underestimated us.

Mr. West held out his hands. “The company I ran experimented with nontraditional and renewable energy sources. I know a few things,” he said without malice or pretension.  It was one of the things I had come to admire most about Nora's father.  He clearly was a successful, educated, and powerful man, but he never acted boastful or showy.

Mayor Klein regarded us for a moment longer while sucking on his teeth.  He looked at my father. “And you?  What did you do before the Frost?”

“I was a loan officer at a bank.”

“He’s gotten us this far and he saved those two from bandits,” I interjected.  I felt the need to add to my dad’s resume. He was just as valuable and as good of a man as Jerry West.  I glanced nervously at my dad, worried I’d spoken out of turn.  The edges of his thin lips curled up.

“Bandits, hmm? Most unfortunate. But I suppose they’re to be expected when everything has gone to hell up there.” Mayor Klein shook his head. He clapped his hands, snapping us out of a melancholy that had seemed to slip over us like a fog. “Well then, I hope you’ll be happy here in Hot Springs.”

“You’re letting us stay?” my father inquired. “Just like that?”

Mayor Klein waved a dismissive hand. “There’s just the four of you. We’ve got enough space.  Plus, I’m interested in your banking background. Perhaps we can talk about setting up some kind of economic system down here.  The Council and I are keen to avoid people not pulling their weight.”

My father nodded. “I certainly can help with that.”

“And you, sir,” the Mayor added, looking to Mr. West.  “Let’s chat technology.  I’d love to pick your brain about some other ideas I have for our energy situation.”

Mr. West spread his hands open. “Of course.  It’s the least I can do for you folks taking us in.”

“But, Dad,” Nora spoke up. “I thought we were –.”

“We’ll talk about it later, Nora,” Mr. West cut her off. Nora’s brow furrowed, but he gave her a pointed look that kept her silent. His voice was a little too loud and rushed for my liking, and that admiration I’d once felt turned into suspicion all over again.

+++++

After leaving the Mayor’s office, Nora and I walked back to the women’s bunks. My father had suggested we unpack our few possessions before meeting up again later at lunch.  Mayor Klein had returned our backpacks, but they were significantly lighter.  All of our food was gone and anything that remotely resembled a weapon had been confiscated – that included my hunting knife and, more obviously, Mr. West’s gun.

Nora had been conspicuously silent ever since her father had sharply reprimanded her in the Mayor’s office.

“So you and your dad are still planning on leaving?” I asked her.

She ran her fingertips along the smooth contours of the hallway wall.  “I thought so – until just now,” she shrugged. “The plan was always to make it to Eden.”

“This place seems pretty nice though,” I noted, turning down the corridor and into the women’s barracks. “And what's to say Eden even exists?”  The bunkhouse was relatively empty.  Most people were still at breakfast or doing some assigned job, I supposed.  I wondered when we’d be assigned something to do during the day.

“If my dad says Eden exists, then it exists,” Nora scowled. “Besides, it gives me something to believe in.”

We walked back to the bunk-bed where we’d spent the previous night.

“You could come with us?” Nora’s eyes fluttered. “You and your dad, I mean.” She started to unpack the few possessions in her backpack that hadn’t been confiscated.  Each bunk-bed had a built-in shelving unit at the head of the bed and a small ladder at the foot.

“And give up a good thing for something that may not even exist?” I posed.  Despite her insistence, I still wasn’t convinced Eden was real.

“This place isn’t going to stay ideal forever.  It’s just going to get colder and more and more people will flock to this place.”  Nora looked around the nearly vacant bunkhouse. “How long until this room is filled with desperate people?  How long until the supplies run out?”  Her eyes scrunched and she tilted her head.  “And why haven’t they run out already?”

“They’ve obviously been planning this place for some time.  It’s underground,” I pointed out.

Nora shook her head. “Maybe, but not as long as the government had been preparing Eden.  We might as well be in a tin can buried beneath the ground.   From what my dad’s told me, the government’s got thick walls of concrete and his company retrofitted everything to make the space as comfortable and livable as possible. They set it up for survival, not to just wait out the Frost.”

I scratched at the back of my neck. This place did seem like a comfortable haven compared to how we’d been living, even back in Williston.  But how far ahead had those in charge planned? What happened when the temperature dropped so much that even the hot springs froze solid?  How deep were we buried before the permafrost breached the walls?  Would the practical thing be to keep looking for Eden while the temperature outside still allowed for comfortable travel?  Or should we stay here until the situation grew dire enough that the existence of Eden was a last hope? Her words had a lot of truth to them.

“You look like the hamster wheel is working overtime,” Nora teased.

“I’ll talk to my dad about it,” I told her finally.  “But I won’t go anywhere unless he’s coming, too.”

She regarded me, contemplatively.  “You two are really close, huh?”

“Not particularly. Really only since the Frost,” I admitted.  “I don’t think I appreciated him until then.”

She barely nodded.  “I get that,” she said somberly.  Her eyes had taken on a faraway look.  I wondered if she was thinking about her mom or maybe someone else from her past.

I cleared my throat.  “So, uh, what were you studying in college?” I wasn’t really curious, but I’d noticed she liked to talk about herself.  Her sadness was contagious and I wasn’t in the mood to feel sorry for myself.

Her face brightened with the topic change.  “Environmental sustainability.”  She let out a bark of a laugh, but it held no amusement.  “Ironic really.”

“How is that ironic?”

“I can make biodiesel and soap out of cooking fat, but I can’t make a fire without a lighter or matches.  I could rig up solar panels to power an entire house, but I don’t know how to set-up a camping tent,” she went on. “Give me big, fancy, expensive lab equipment and I’ll cure world hunger.  But give me simple tools and I’m useless.”

“Wow.  You can do all that?” I openly admired.

She shrugged and gave me a half smile.  “Fat lot of good it’s done us so far though,” she remarked.  “My dad’s SUV ran out of gas, and we got attacked by bandits.”

I smiled despite myself.  We’d gone a long way since then.

“Hey, you!” Nora called out loudly.  A girl who’d been walking past our bunk-bed froze in place. “Where are you going?” Nora demanded.

I felt the urge to jab Nora in the ribs.  She was being weird and rude.  That was my job.

The girl quirked an eyebrow. “I’m going to take a shower?” She was wearing a towel around her midsection and she held miniature shampoo and conditioner bottles in one hand.

“A shower?” Nora echoed.

“Yeah.” The girl, who couldn’t have been older than 15 or 16, self-consciously tightened the towel around her body. “You know that thing where you turn on a faucet and water magically falls from the sky?” I didn’t blame her for the snarky tone.  She hadn’t expected to be interrogated.

“There’s running water?” Nora’s voice pitched an octave higher.  Her excitement was palpable.

“Um, yeah, they’re right over there.” The girl pointed to the opposite side of the bunk house where I saw an entryway I had yet to explore.

“We can take a shower!” Nora practically tackled me.  Her arms went around my neck and my body lurched from the force of her excitement.  If she had been any taller and me any smaller, she would have tossed me straight onto my back on the bed.  Even though we’d spent the night sleeping next to each other, I didn’t like the butterflies that attacked my stomach when I thought about us in bed together.

The girl, she told us her name was Maggie, led us to the shower room.  It was nearly the size of the women’s bunkhouse and looked like a horse stable or something with all the individual stalls.  There was a large bin full of clean towels and two other bins filled with various travel-sized toiletries.

Nora looked around the vastness of the room. “How did you guys harness the mineral waters to make electricity?  You’re not just pumping hot spring water straight in here, are you?”

Maggie shrugged. “I have no idea.  All I care about is when I turn on a faucet, hot water comes out.”

I could feel myself practically salivating as we stood there.  The word “hot” had slipped from my vocabulary.

Nora turned to me. “Oh my God, let’s shower right now.”

I cleared my throat and hazarded a glance at Maggie.  She stared back at me with unblinking eyes. Normally I admired good eye contact, but hers was too intense; it made me feel small and shrinking.  “Thank you for showing us the showers, Maggie,” I said routinely. “I think we’ve got it from here.”

Maggie shrugged. “Sure thing,” she said before disappearing behind one of the shower curtains.

“You really want to shower right now?”

Nora already had a towel tucked under her arm and was digging though one of the bins of toiletries. “Why not?”

“We’re supposed to be meeting up with our dads for lunch soon,” I reminded her.

“They’ll be fine if we’re a little late.” She peeled off her thermal shirt, the one she routinely wore under her heavy winter jacket, and sprinted for one of the shower stalls.

Left behind, I could either waste some time before lunch or I could take my first real shower in nearly two years.  It didn’t take long for me to make a decision.  I fished out two tiny bottles of shampoo and conditioner and a bar of hotel room-sized soap from one of the massive bins. It looked like someone had Supermarket Swept through the travel aisle in the beauty section of some store. Mini tubes of toothpaste were interspersed with the shampoo and conditioner bottles.  I felt the urge to fill my pockets, but no hoarding seemed to be rule number one in this place.  I hadn’t even been allowed to take back any leftover breakfast to our room; it had to all be eaten in the mess hall.

Clutching the twin travel-sized bottles and the tiny bar of soap, I shuffled from the corridor into the shower stall closest to me.  I pulled the shower curtain closed behind me and fastened it to a few metal rings that served as the only barrier between the main room and my modesty.  The shower stall was an open room with a shallow ledge at belly-button level upon where you could set your soap and other shower toiletries.  There was also a fold-down ledge far enough from the showerhead to set your clothes on so they wouldn’t get wet.

I quickly stripped, now suddenly eager for this shower. I made sure to carefully fold my clothes and the ace bandage that was holding my ankle together and tucked everything far enough from where I imaged the spray of the shower would reach.  My nakedness felt foreign. I hadn’t properly bathed since my family had been uprooted from Williston; when it’s sub-freezing outside, you put on more layers, you don’t take them off.

The shower knobs were an overly complicated system with one handle that controlled the water pressure and the other the water’s temperature.  After a few episodes of trial and error, I found the perfect combination of heat and spray.  The water pressure was underwhelming; a weak, tired stream trickled down on me and the water was lukewarm at best, but it was the first real shower I’d taken since everything had gone to hell.

Back in North Dakota the water had shut off earlier than other parts of the country, so we’d had to heat up buckets of snow if we wanted to get clean.  My mom had had the foresight to get dry shampoo that required no water and we’d been using that to freshen up on our cross-country travels.

“I’m just standing here!” I heard Nora announce from a few stalls away.  “I should feel guilty just standing under all this hot water, but I totally don’t!”

“How’s your water pressure?” I hollered back.

“It’s not too bad, actually.  I’ve probably stayed at hotels with worse.”

“Lucky!” I loudly complained over the spray of water.  “My shower sucks.  And the water’s not even that hot.”

“You should totally try mine,” she called back.

I was sure it wasn’t an invitation to join her right that moment, but it still made my stomach turn somersaults.  I chose to ignore her offer and concentrated on finishing my shower as quickly as possible.

The fact that I knew Nora was naked, like me, just a few feet away with only a flimsy barrier between us was torture.  I needed to stop being so attracted to this girl.  Life was hard enough without an unrequited crush.

I turned off the water when the last of the conditioner and soap was rinsed away.  I twisted my hair over my shoulder and squeezed away the excess water.  It was only then that I realized I’d forgotten to grab a towel.  They were all sitting in one of the giant bins near the entrance.  It was like I was living in a junior-high gym class nightmare.

I had two options.  I could put my clothes back on without toweling off, or I could quickly grab a towel and hop back behind the cover of my shower stall, hopefully before anyone saw me.  I was fairly confident that Nora and I were the only ones showering besides that girl Maggie, and I could still hear the water running in her stall near mine.  I unfastened the metal rings that held my shower curtain closed and gingerly poked my head out like a prairie dog peering for predators.  There wasn’t a person in sight.

I quietly tiptoed out of the shower stall.  My swollen ankle still ached, and walking on my tiptoes seemed to heighten the pain, but the tub full of towels was close.  I quickly grabbed one from the top of the pile.  I suppose I’d gotten too cocky or had let my guard down; my ankle wasn’t quite strong enough for all this added stress.  When I turned on my heel to return to my shower stall, it buckled beneath me and I fell hard to the tiled floor.  My wet, naked body made an obvious slapping sound as it came into contact with the floor.

I laid still, staring at the whisper white ceiling mentally assessing if I was okay or not.  Before I was able to take stock of all my body parts, the water shut off in Nora’s stall, and I went on high alert.  I scrambled to my knees and tried to get back up on my feet, towel now forgotten.  Nora’s shower curtain was crisply thrown back and when she stepped into the bathroom corridor, fully dressed, I froze.

Her eyes seemed to take their time traveling from the floor, up my naked body, before making eye contact.

“What are you doing?” she asked in a calm, even tone.

“I slipped,” I said lamely.

“I see that.”

“I forgot to grab a towel and my ankle gave out when I came out here to get one.”

She didn’t comment on my nakedness, for which I was thankful.  I was sure she was saving this moment in her memory banks to tease me about later though.

“Do you need help?”

I was still halfway sprawled on the floor in a kind of sprinter’s stance as if I was waiting for the gun to go off and signal the start of the race.  In other words, I looked ridiculous.

“No.  I’m fine.”

She frowned and pushed wet locks made darker from her shower behind her ears.  “Don’t be so stubborn, Sammy.”

To my horror, instead of leaving me to my shame, she swooped down.  Her head went beneath my armpit, her arm wrapped around my waist, and she helped me right myself just as she had when we’d been startled by the group from Hot Springs.  Only this time we were both damp and I was naked.  Repeat – I was naked.

“This could only happen to you, you know.”  Her voice echoed in the bathroom as she helped me stand up.  She didn’t seem to mind that I was getting her clothes wet.

I frowned and tugged at my lower lip with my top teeth. “It’s not like I forgot my towel on purpose.”

“You should see Dr. Allyse again.” Her breath against my ear produced a warmth in my belly like no campfire could ever hope to recreate. “Your ankle must be hurt worse than she thought.”

“I need clothes,” I awkwardly pointed out.

“Oh, right,” she said absently as if she’d completely not noticed.  “Which one’s your shower?”

I pointed to the stall with the curtain cast aside and she helped me hobble my way back.  She picked up my carefully folded clothes, looking amused, and helped ease me down to sit on the fold-down shelf.

“Um, can you get me a towel?” It had been the reason I’d re-twisted my ankle and I’d forgotten it again outside my stall.

She left and returned a short moment later.  “This one’s a little damp,” she seemed to apologize.  “I could dig around and find you a drier one.”

“No, this is fine,” I said, gratefully taking the towel from her.  It was soggy at the edges, but it would serve its purpose.  I immediately wrapped it around my torso to cover up my naked body.

Nora continued to linger in the stall. “Do you need any help getting dressed?”

I cleared my throat. “Ah, no.  I can handle that.”

“Okay.  If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.”

“By the way,” she said, a wide lazy smile stretching across her face, “nice tattoo.  It’s very unexpected.”

I’d wanted to do something rebellious and unlike me, so for my eighteenth birthday I’d gotten the outline of bird, tethered to a long string, tattooed on my right hip.  It was located low enough so my parents would never see it.

I ducked my head, unwilling to make eye contact again.  “Thanks.”  For some reason her seeing me naked and floundering on the floor hadn’t been nearly as embarrassing as the compliment.  It was still embarrassing, but in a different way.  Something about her seeing my tattoo made me feel more vulnerable than when I’d been naked.

“Okay, well just give me a holler when you’re dressed and I’ll help you get to the infirmary.”

“I’ll be fine, really,” I insisted as I started to gingerly re-wrap my ankle.

“I’m helping you, and that’s final,” she said with equal stubbornness.   We were quite the pair – two rams continually butting heads.

“Fine, fine,” I grumbled.  Nora slipped out of the stall and I began to dress, careful this time not to slip again.

+++++

We found the doctor in the sickbay room by herself, reading a book.  When she saw the two of us, Nora with her arm around my mid-section, and me favoring my ankle again, she leapt into action.  Unfortunately, it could only be a limited action.

“I’m sorry, Sam,” Dr. Allyse apologized.  “The best I can do is set you up with an air cast and crutches.  It’ll at least keep your ankle immobile until it can heal itself.  I’ll also give you some more painkillers, but don’t expect anything like Vicodin that’ll actually work.  We have medical supplies,” she said apologetically, “but they’re painfully primitive and short-sighted.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” I said. “This is great.” I tried to flex my ankle, but the air cast kept it securely in place.  It was a significant upgrade from the ace bandage and butterfly clips.

Dr. Allyse’s solution wasn’t good enough for Nora though.  “It’s not like the world above ground was decimated,” my feisty travel-mate pointed out.  “Can’t we just round up some people, head on over to the closest hospital, and lug an x-ray machine and other supplies back here?”

Dr. Allyse ran her hand over her face.  “I wish it were that easy.  But the closest hospital with equipment like that is in Plains, over 20 miles away.  We’d have to find a vehicle big enough for transport and then siphon off gas from someplace.  Honestly, even if I thought it was worth the trouble, I’m sure my fellow townsfolk wouldn’t agree.”

“Well, who do we have to talk to in order to make this happen?” Nora demanded.

“The Mayor,” Dr. Allyse said with a small frown.  “And the four council persons.  They say it’s a democracy down here, but it’s been more like a theocracy with those men in charge.”

“The air cast will be fine,” I said awkwardly.  I hated being such a bother.  My ankle wasn’t broken.  It just needed some time to heal and I’d be better.

“Why are there separate bunks for men and women?” Nora asked the doctor.

“Why do you ask so many questions?” I threw back at Nora.

She glared at me. “Because I’m curious. And so far, Dr. Allyse has been the only one willing to answer my questions.”  She snapped her attention away from me and looked expectantly at the doctor, waiting for her answer.

“Population control, I suppose,” Dr. Allyse guessed. “Life underground can be pretty boring. That’s why conception rates are always highest in cold states during winter months, you know.”

“I suppose sex does help to pass the time,” Nora noted thoughtfully. “So even married couples have to sleep in the separate bunks?”

“Married people were kind of a minority in Hot Springs before Apophis,” Dr. Allyse revealed.  “There’s a separate bunkhouse for them, but I hear it’s a bit of an orgy.  I myself steer clear of that part of the compound and I’d suggest you girls did, too.”

As much as I might have wanted to join the conversation to feel included, it was too embarrassing to my sensibilities to be talking so frankly with a stranger about sex.  Add Nora to that equation, and I’d turned into a blushing adolescent.

“What about families? Parents with small children?” Nora pressed. “They all have to live split up?” Her questions seemed unending.

“Children under 3 or 4 are even more rare than married couples,” Dr. Allyse noted.  “But I know the Mayor is very interested in changing that.”

“So there’s three bunkhouses, a cafeteria, and a hospital,” Nora ticked off.  “What else does this cozy little bomb shelter of yours have?”

“It’s your bomb shelter now, too,” Dr. Allyse remarked.  “I hear that the Mayor’s letting you stick around.”

“That’s never happened before, huh?” I said, finally chiming in now that the conversation had steered toward a more comfortable topic.  I vaguely remembered the doctor’s comments about that from the night we’d arrived.

Dr. Allyse shook her head. “Not before you folks, no. Everyone down here is native to Hot Springs.”

“Does that worry you?” Nora asked. “That the Mayor is letting us stay?”

“It sets an uncomfortable precedent,” the doctor said carefully. She chewed on the inside of her cheek before continuing. “As part of my medical training, I had to take the Hippocratic Oath.  But that doesn’t mean I’m willing to sacrifice my own survival so someone else can live.”

+++++

Between the shower and the unexpected visit to the doctor, we’d completely missed lunch.  I had thought it strange that our fathers hadn’t come looking for us when we didn’t show up in the cafeteria.  But when we tracked them down after leaving Dr. Allyse’s office, I found out why.

“Check.”

“Damn it.”

In addition to the bunks, the doctor’s office, and the mess hall, Hot Springs was also equipped with a room for worship, a library that doubled as a school house, and a recreation room.  We found our fathers deadlocked in a competitive game of chess in the latter room.  Apparently they had missed lunch, too.

Nora pulled up a chair and sat down next to her father.  “Wow, Dad,” she remarked. “Mr. Poulsen is kicking your ass.”

Her father made a humming noise, but his stare stayed focused on the few white chess pieces that remained – his King and three pawns. There were over twice as many black pieces on the board.

My attention was stolen from the nearly complete game by a cheer of voices in the far corner of the room.  A flat screen television was set up on an entertainment center and a group of boys, most of them in their late teens, were playing video games.  I recognized Ryan, the guy who had carried me when I’d originally injured my ankle, in the center of the group.  Our eyes locked momentarily and he waved.

Seeing them playing video games as if they didn’t have a care in the world felt like a slap to the face.  Above ground, people were freezing and starving to death.  It felt wrong enough having just had a warm meal and a hot shower without the addition of an Xbox.

“You okay over there, wiggle-worm?” Nora must have noticed my agitation.

“Yeah.  I’m still adjusting,” I said. “All of this feels a little surreal.”

She nodded her understanding and then returned her attention to our fathers’ chess game.  “But it sure beats sleeping on the ground.”

+++++

That night, when I returned from the bathroom after brushing my teeth with my allocated ration of toothpaste on my allocated toothbrush and after washing my face with my allocated washcloth, I discovered someone was already in my allocated bed.  Since we were now official citizens of Hot Springs, we’d each been given a small bundle of supplies complete with a few changes of clothes.

I leaned my crutches against the frame of the bunk-bed.  The crutches were a little short for me, but they served their purpose.

“You’re really going to make me climb up top?” I sighed.

“Of course not.”  Nora flipped the top covers back and slid to the far edge of the mattress to make room for me.  “Unless you like it on top?”  She arched her eyebrow at me.

I rolled my eyes, the double entendre not lost on me.

“I thought we could have another sleepover party tonight, if you don’t mind,” Nora explained.

I gingerly sat down on the mattress and slid beside her, mindful to keep my ankle as immobile as possible so as to not reinjure it.

“This feels like summer camp,” I remarked.

“It feels like prison,” Nora countered.

“You speaking from experience?” I was only half teasing.  For all we’d been through, I admittedly knew very little about my bunkmate.

“No,” she scoffed.  “But I’ve watched enough TV.”

“I don’t think they let people sleep in the same bed in prison.”

“You speaking from experience?” she teased me back.

“Yeah,” I snorted.  “I’m a hardened criminal.”

“What was your mom like?” Nora asked me.  Her hand slid under the covers and found mine.  Her slim, feminine fingers intertwined with mine.  It was a friendly show of solidarity, but the familiarity behind it made me sweat.  I wasn’t expecting the question either, but it momentarily took my mind off of her hand.

I sucked in a deep breath.  “She was…a sunflower.  And my dad was her sun.  I’ve never seen two people more in love.”

Nora blinked once. “People don’t talk like that.”

“I know.”

When I felt her thumb start rhythmically stroking along the top of my hand, my eyes nearly rolled in the back of my head.  I was wound up too tight.

“What about your mom?” I shifted in bed so I could look at her, but she refused to let go of my hand.  If she wanted to keep touching me, I wasn’t going to stop her.

Nora’s mouth twisted.  “She was your typical WASP, I suppose.  We didn’t always have money, but she acclimated to the lifestyle pretty quickly.” She made a face.  “Maybe too quickly.  I got shipped off to the most expensive boarding school she could find as soon as my dad’s first major paycheck cleared.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s what you do to your kids when you’re rich,” she stated as if it were the most obvious answer.

“What was boarding school like?” I was genuinely curious.  I’d only ever gone to public schools.

“Horrible at first.  I didn’t know anybody,” she sighed.  “And there were all these unwritten rules that everyone seemed to know about, but not me.  But then I caught on and it wasn’t so bad.  Besides, it was better than being at home.  My dad was gone all the time, traveling for his job, and my mom…” she trailed off.  “We just didn’t get along.”

Her velvety voice was hypnotic. Its rich tenor lulled me into a feeling of false security.  It was addictive after such a long stretch of living on edge.

“Are you listening to me or have you tuned me out already?” she accused.

“I’m listening, I’m listening.  I’m sorry.  I’m just having a hard time keeping my eyes open.  I think all our traveling finally caught up with me.”

“Some slumber party,” she pouted.

I stifled a yawn.  “You wouldn’t want to invite me.  I don’t know how to braid.”  While I was climbing trees and tearing up the knees of my jeans, other girls were learning how to put on makeup and were stuffing their training bras and memorizing facts about their favorite member of their favorite boy band.  It wasn’t anybody’s fault by my own, though.  I had rejected each of my mother’s attempts to turn me into a girl.

“You can start a fire with your bare hands, but you can’t braid?” she asked incredulously.

“You teach me to braid and I’ll teach you how to build a fire.”

The overhead lights flicked off for lights out and I could no longer see the aqua blue of her eyes.

“You’ve got yourself a deal.”

+++++

CHAPTER NINE

The next morning I woke up to Nora’s hand on my knee. It was certainly less awkward than the compromising position I’d found myself in the previous morning, but it still made me sweat nonetheless.  I was attracted to her, yes.  But just the feel of her hand resting solidly on my knee was comforting.  It made me feel human.

She turned out to be a heavy sleeper, or at least pretended to be, so I was able to wiggle out of bed without interrupting her sleep.  I smiled a little as I lifted her hand from my knee and felt her fingers curling as if refusing to let go, even while she slept.  If I hated myself I would have put her hand back on my knee.  I would have basked in the comfort it provided, its solid, reassuring weight. I would have let myself get used to the heat of her body making me sweat for so many reasons.  But instead I got out of bed.

The first thing I did when I stood up was flex and stretch my ankle. I’d taken off the air cast before going to sleep so my foot could breathe during the night.  The swelling had reduced significantly and the dull ache only flared to full on pain when I lifted my toes and arched my foot.

The second thing I did was glance back at the bed and a still-sleeping Nora. Her strawberry blonde hair framed her heart-shaped face. She remained sleeping even with the din of others waking up and getting ready for the day. Her mouth was slightly open and when she pushed air in and out of her lungs, it made a whistling noise. I might have denied myself the indulgence of staying in bed with her, but I allowed myself a hungry look while she slept.  I shook myself out of the self-induced trance.  This kind of thing had to stop.

After having breakfast and a shower, I didn’t know what to do with myself.  We hadn’t yet been assigned any chores or a job, so I found myself in the recreation room.  A few people were playing board games and that same group of boys were playing video games.  I wondered if perhaps playing Madden all day was their designated job.

Ryan, in the center of the teenage boys, called out to me as I hobbled in on my too-short crutches.  Luckily I hadn’t slipped again in the shower that morning.  Nora, naturally, had offered her assistance to lessen the chances of me reinjuring myself.  I, naturally, had turned her down.

“Hey, Sam,” he greeted, jogging up to me.

“Hey,” I returned, nodding my head.

He handed me a video-game controller. “You play?”

I arched an eyebrow. “That depends.  Do you like to lose?”

His grin grew.  “Oh, you’re on.”

A handful of lopsided victories later, Ryan and I had changed games.  I hadn’t been joking earlier; I was really good at video games.  When you grow up in a small town, entertainment is limited and you acquire certain skill-sets.  Mine included Madden and Grand Theft Auto.

“Are you really playing ping-pong?” I heard Nora’s incredulous voice ask.

I kept my eyes trained on the little white ball as it fluttered over the net.  “No, Nora,” I deadpanned.  “We’re baking a cake.”

I could practically feel her scowl even though I wasn’t looking at her.

“I’m bored,” she pouted.

“Then pick up a paddle and join us.”

“You shouldn’t be on your ankle, Sam,” she nagged. “You’re just going to hurt yourself again.”

I let the ball fly by me.  “I’m a big girl, Nora,” I sighed.  “I’ll be fine.”

Her eyes traveled between me and Ryan, who stood at the other side of the table. “Fine,” she huffed. “I’m sure you know best.  Sorry I made you lose a point.”  Without another word, she turned on her heel and left.

“What’s up with her?” Ryan asked.

I retrieved the ball and tossed it back over the net.  “Who knows,” I sighed. “Your serve.”  I knew there was no use trying to figure out Nora and her Personality of the Day.

Ryan served the ball awkwardly, and when it bounced back my way, it hovered too long in the air for me not to take advantage.  I waited patiently for it to bounce again on my side before spiking it back across the net.  Ryan thrust his arm out, but he was too slow for my volley.  The ball went sailing past his outstretched paddle.

“Nice shot, Venus,” he joked.  He grabbed the ball off the ground and tossed it back over to my side.

I set the paddle and ball down on the table.  “Sorry I can’t stick around to beat you properly, but I’m gonna get going.  I probably shouldn’t be messing around on my ankle anyway.”

Ryan snorted. “Right.  Because ping-pong takes skill.”

I arched an eyebrow in his direction.  “Let me guess – you hate losing to girls.”

His lip curled at the edge and he shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his oversized cargo pants.  “Well it’s hard to impress a girl when you keep losing to her, even if it’s just video games and ping-pong.”

I cleared my throat. “Times must really be tough if you think you wanna impress me,” I said uncomfortably.  Lord, I didn’t want to lead this kid on.

He shrugged his broad shoulders and looked away.  “You don’t seem so bad,” he said stiffly.  “Don’t sell yourself short.”

“Thanks for the compliment,” I snorted.  “I think.”

He looked back at me and grinned.  The wide smile made his boyish features look even more youthful.  “See you at dinner later?”

“Yeah,” I nodded.  “I’ll be there.”

“Awesome.  I’ll save you a seat.”

I didn’t think the cafeteria area ever got crowded enough to warrant saved seats, but I kept my comment to myself.  I nodded again instead.  “See you later, Ryan.”

+++++

I didn’t have a plan for the rest of the afternoon since I hadn’t yet been assigned a job, but I didn’t want to be stuck playing ping-pong and video games with Ryan all day.  Plus, I hadn’t explored the rest of the compound and I was curious what else was available to us besides ping-pong, video games, and food.  So far, Hot Springs resembled a horrible man-cave or a fraternity house.

I stopped over at the women’s bunks to see if Nora had hidden herself away there.  I didn’t find her back at our bunk or taking another shower, but I wasn’t too worried.  If she’d wandered off, I was confident she could find her way back.  This place wasn’t that big.

I eventually found her in the library.  The room was smaller than the recreation room, but larger than Dr. Allyse’s office.  I wondered why Hot Springs needed a library, but I guess it made sense, what with the town’s mayor being a former college professor.  Most of the books looked like they were fiction, but there were some nonfiction science tomes on the shelves as well.  Besides the books, a few lumpy-looking futons and couches filled up the room.

Nora was sitting on one of the worn couches.  The hardcover book in her hands was missing its dust jacket, so I couldn’t immediately place its title.  That Nora might read something other than fashion magazines or one of those trashy gossip rags was honestly a surprise.  I knew she’d gone to college and had some fancy degree in something that sounded smart, but she seemed to me the kind of girl who preferred US Weekly.

I sat down next to her. When the couch cushions depressed, her eyebrows crinkled together, forming a deep ridge between her eyes.  “There’s other empty couches in here,” she muttered out of the corner of her mouth.  She turned the page of her book and didn’t bother to look over in my direction.

“Maybe I just wanted to cuddle,” I retorted.  There were a handful of other people in the room, and I didn’t know what etiquette was in a bomb shelter library, so I kept my tone low so as to not draw attention to our couch.

Her eyes snapped off the page and she twisted her neck so quickly I was worried she’d given herself whiplash.  From the way the hard look softened when our eyes met it was clear she hadn’t realized I was the one who’d sat down beside her.  Her guard only relaxed for a moment though. The softness that came with recognition disappeared in favor of distain.  “Where’s that boy that’s been following you around like a lovesick puppy?”

I rolled my eyes.  I didn’t know why she was acting so stiff and inconvenienced today.  It would take someone with far more patience than I had to figure this girl out.  “His name is Ryan,” I emphasized.  “And he’s not lovesick,” I protested.  “I’m sure he’s just lonely for more people his own age.”

“I’m his own age, too,” she mumbled.

“And if you’d remove that stick from your ass long enough, all three of us could hang out.”

She met my gaze briefly. “I’m not interested in a threesome, Sam,” she said in a chilled tone.  She turned back to her book and resumed reading.

“You’re never going to make any friends here with that attitude,” I pointed out.

Her eyes rolled in the back of her head in a hyper-exaggerated motion.  “I don’t need friends,” she said, still paying more attention to her book than me.  “My dad and I are leaving this place as soon as he feels better.”

“When?” My voice cracked a little.

“He wants to wait a few more days to get back to full health, but then we’re heading out for Eden.”

“Oh.” I chewed on my lower lip.  I hadn’t talked to my dad about going to Eden with them yet, but I didn’t need to – I could anticipate his answer.  It was too dangerous.  We had a good thing here.

“What are you reading?” I asked.

“Nothing you’ve ever read, Fargo.”

At her words, I stood up. I wasn’t going to let her insult my intelligence or my home state.  I might not have been able to go to college and maybe North Dakota wasn’t the most glamorous place, but I loved it and its people. I could feel the alarming prick of hot tears threatening to spill from the corners of my eyes and fuck it all if I was going to let her see me cry.  I didn’t know why I was getting so emotional, but I guess her calling me, “Fargo,” like it was something I should be ashamed of had really gotten to me.  I only stopped from storming out when I felt her cool fingers close around my wrist.

“I’m sorry, Sam.” Her aquamarine eyes were fierce, yet apologetic. “I get rude and inappropriate when I’m uncomfortable.”

“That must be all the time then,” I shot at her.  I knew it was a mean thing to say, but I’d had it with this girl and her flip-flopping attitude.  I was tired of trying so damn hard to be civil when she clearly didn’t care to do the same.

Her blue eyes bore into me. “Ever since you and your dad saved us from those bandits, I’ve been existing in a state of disequilibrium.”

Even under the library’s unflattering halogen light, which should have made her freckled face look washed out and sickly, she somehow managed that enviable, fresh and rosy cheeked complexion.  I thought she looked beautiful, but I dismissed it for jealousy.  I was as pale as she was and I always looked translucent – a little blue, even.

“Well, you don’t have to take it out on me,” I pointed out sourly. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Except be the cause of my disequilibrium.”

“What?”

She broke eye contact. “Nothing. You’re right,” she said, only finally letting go of my wrist so she could pick at the frayed threads on the worn couch cushions.  “You haven’t done anything wrong.”

I stood there, awkwardly, not sure of what to do.  I had been so ready for a dramatic exit, but now her vulnerability made me want to stick around a little longer.

“Do you want to go to dinner with me tonight?”  I felt my face flush as soon as the words came out.  I was just trying to be polite and make her feel more included, but it came out sounding like I was asking her out on a date.

“Thanks, but I’ll probably just bring a tray of food to my dad in the infirmary and eat with him.”

“He’s in the infirmary?” I hadn’t seen Mr. West since his chess game with my dad yesterday, but I hadn’t really worried about his absence.  I hadn’t seen much of either of them since we’d found this place.

Nora nodded.  “He’s staying there for observation or something.  Dr. Allyse thinks his head injury is worse than just a concussion or something.”

“I’m sorry.”

She shrugged. “It’s not your fault.  Speaking of the doctor, how’s your ankle?” she asked, nodding toward my foot.  “Is she gonna have to amputate it?”

“It’s okay.  The air cast has helped a lot.”

“I’m still really annoyed that they couldn’t x-ray it for you,” she frowned.  She finally closed her book and set it on her lap.

“I know you are,” I observed.  “I think you’re more concerned about my ankle than I am.”

“You should be worried.  All we have is our health.”

“I’ll be fine,” I insisted. “I just need time to heal.”

Nora shook her head. “Time is the one thing we don’t have, Sammy.”

I made a face. “Why do you insist on calling me ‘Sammy’ when you know I hate it?”

She gave me a goofy grin that looked out of place on her recently stoical features. “I think you just answered your own question.”

+++++

After dinner that night, I had to stick around the cafeteria.  Everyone had to contribute if they wanted to continue living in Hot Springs, and it was my turn to help out in the kitchen.  Normally I hated any kind of domestic task, but I figured that having something tangibly useful to do would break up the monotony of days underground.  I would go crazy just playing board games and reading books all day.  Ryan was also assigned to the kitchen that night.  Before Apophis, his mom had been the head cook at the public school.  Now, she was in charge of the daily menu for the people of Hot Springs.

The mountains of food they’d amassed were impressive.  I saw an entire room filled with giant bags of rice and another room whose deep shelves were lined with more canned goods than I’d ever seen in my life.  And those were just two of the stock rooms.  Ryan told me there were entire bunkers elsewhere filled with other foodstuffs.

I plucked a tin can from a shelf and turned it so the label faced forward.  “You guys have Jack ‘n Jill in Montana, too?” I asked, recognizing the label. “I thought that was just a North Dakota grocery chain.”

Ryan didn’t look up from his peeling. “I don't know,” he grunted. “Never been.  Hey, you wanna grab a knife and a bucket and help me out?”

I wrinkled my nose. “Do I have to?”  I’d just finished loading a literal mountain of dishes into one of those giant dishwashing machines you find in industrial kitchens.  Ryan had been hand-peeling potatoes for the better part of an hour.

I grabbed an empty bucket and flipped it upside down so I could sit on it.

Ryan opened a drawer beside him and pulled a knife out for me. “You should feel lucky my mom’s giving you a try-out in the kitchen,” he said. “Kitchen duty is the best.”

“And why is it the best?” I questioned.

“Well, besides getting to hang out with me,” he grinned, “you also get a say in that day’s meals.  And you can sneak some food when no one’s watching.  Just not too much.  The walls have eyes,” he warned with an ominous chuckle. “Although I don’t know if my mom will want to take you on full-time,” he added.  “I've gotten through three potatoes and you’re still on your first one.”

“Hey,” I protested. “It’s hard work. And you gave me a dull knife.”

“Uh huh,” he snorted, flipping another peeled potato into one of the gleaming silver pots.

“I can’t believe we’re going to have mashed potatoes tomorrow.”

"Not if you keep butchering that potato.  Just shave off a little of the peel,” Ryan corrected my technique.  “This stuff doesn’t grow on trees, you know.”

“Where did all these potatoes come from? Do you guys have an underground farm or something?” Back in Williston we had run out of produce only a few months into the Frost. Root vegetables like potatoes, onions, carrots, and radishes had kept longer in the basement, but we were nearly two years into this deep freeze and these potatoes looked like they’d just been dug up. “And how have  you guys managed to feed over 500 people, three times a day for this long?”

“I don’t know,” Ryan said, unaffected. “Food shows up and we cook it.”

“And you’re not curious?”

Ryan stopped peeling. “I'm just happy to be alive.” His dark brown eyes regarded me. “Maybe I should ask questions, but maybe I won’t like the answers.” He tilted his head back down and resumed peeling.

I bit my tongue after his solemn answer and focused my attention on the potato in my hand. When I was little I used to eat raw potatoes like they were apples.  My grandma finally had to lie and tell me that they were poisonous so I’d stop raiding her root cellar.

“Damn it!” I hissed out a curse. The knife had slipped and I now had a deep gash on my palm.

“What’d you do?”

I shook my hand out and winced at the pain. “I cut my hand on that damn knife.”

Ryan smirked. “Guess it wasn’t so dull after all.”

I shook my good fist at him. “Watch it, buddy.”

“Go find Dr. Allyse to patch you up.  I’m sure everyone will appreciate it if you don’t bleed all over the potatoes.”

I curled my lip at him, but didn’t snark back at him.  The cut wasn’t that bad, but if it got me out of potato duty, I was more than happy to find the doctor.

+++++

When I got to the infirmary, Dr. Allyse wasn’t there.  The hospital, in fact, was completely empty.  I sat for a few minutes on one of the cots, waiting for her to return, but when she didn’t show up I took to the task of finding a bandage for myself.  I found what I thought might be a storage closet and pushed the door open.  I pushed a little too hard though, and the door slammed noisily against a plaster wall.

Inside, sitting on one of the cots, was Nora.  She looked justifiably startled by my abrupt entrance.  “Sorry,” I apologized with an embarrassed smile.  “I was just looking for Band-Aids.”

She turned her back to me and vigorously wiped at her eyes.  “It’s okay,” she choked, clearing out a lump from her throat. “I think I saw some over there.”

I flicked my eyes to the indicated corner and nodded curtly when I saw a shelf of gauze and rubbing alcohol.  “Good call,” I approved, walking more fully into the room and striding over to the shelving unit.

I heard Nora shuffling around on the cot.  “D-did you, uh, hurt yourself?” she sputtered out. “You’re kind of accident prone, aren’t you?”

I scanned the stacks of medical supplies, not sure what I needed.  “Kind of sliced my hand open peeling potatoes.”

“You cut your hand on a potato?” Nora’s voice sounded rough.  I’d noticed she’d been crying when I first walked in, but I didn’t want to make a big deal about it.

“On the knife that I was using to cut the potato,” I clarified.  I grabbed a roll of gauze and some medical tape. “I don’t think they’re hiding razors in the potatoes.  It’s not prison, after all.” I spun on my heels and headed back to the infirmary door.  I paused, however, as I walked past Nora, still seated on the cot.  “Hey,” I said, an eyebrow creeping up my forehead.  “Are you okay? You look a little…uh…soggy.”

Nora inhaled sharply through her nose.  She grimaced when her nostrils made an unattractive sound.  “I’m fine,” she said, waiving a dismissive hand.

I hesitated at the doorway and felt my body twitch as indecision flooded me.  Do I stay or do I go?

Finally, I pushed a deep breath out of my lungs and sat down next to Nora, who continued to quietly sniffle. “Spill it,” I grunted, my injury momentarily forgotten. “What’s up?”

Nora bit her bottom lip. “No really, I’m fine,” she wetly lied.  A new batch of salty tears sprung to her eyes, and she hastily wiped them away with the backs of her hands.

I frowned. “Uh huh,” I rasped, my voice not unkind. “I don’t think you’re fine.”

Nora’s slender shoulders slumped forward.  The silent tears fell freely now, creating small wet spots on her pants.

“Nora, whatever it is, I’m sure it’ll turn out fine.”  I smiled, even though I knew she wasn’t looking at my face. “Even if Eden doesn’t exist,” I guessed, “at least we found this place.” I placed a hesitant hand in the small of her back.

Although I meant for my words to comfort and reassure, Nora’s frail body shook harder.  “Shit,” I grumbled.  I dropped my hand to my side and stared at the floor.  I knew I was bad at consoling people, but I hadn’t realized I was that bad.

“I-I’m sorry,” she gasped between choking sobs. “I know you’re just trying to help.”  She wiped uselessly at her dripping nose with the sleeve of her shirt.  A long strand of mucus stuck to the cotton material. “Oh, gross,” she mumbled, making a disgusted face.

I chuckled lowly. “Don’t worry.  I won’t tell anyone that you’ve got snot like the rest of us.” I winked playfully. “It’ll be our little secret.”

Nora laughed a wet giggle and I exhaled.  She looked down at the sleeves of her shirt whose arms were streaked with unmentionables and what looked like black mascara.  “Well this shirt is ruined,” she muttered.  Her hands went to the bottom hem of her top and she began to yank the shirt off of her torso.

“What the—” I sputtered from my seat besides her.  My eyes went wide as I watched Nora awkwardly yank her shirt over her head.

Nora looked perplexed.  “What?” she asked, looking down at the tank top that had been hidden beneath her long-sleeved top.  “I’ve got layers on, Sammy,” she smirked, momentarily forgetting her angst. “I wasn’t giving you a free show.”

I felt flustered. “Yeah, well, not like I was worried or anything.  Nothing you’ve got that I haven’t seen before,” I mumbled, trying to slip on a mask of nonchalance.

“I’ve seen much more of you, anyway,” Nora noted.

I cleared my throat uncomfortably, but didn’t acknowledge the truth to her statement.

Silence fell once again between us.  Nora sighed deeply and swung her legs back and forth.  “Your hand still cut?” she muttered, glancing sideways at me.

I blinked hard, momentarily confused and then stared down at my hand.  A long gash in the palm of my left hand stared back at me.  It was a shallow cut and had stopped bleeding soon after I’d cut it. “Oh, right,” I said, shaking my head slightly.

“Want me to fix it for you?” she offered, turning on the cot.

“Uh, sure,” I shrugged.  I stuck my hand out and slightly shivered when she took my hand in her own.

Nora chewed on her bottom lip and busied herself with the medical gauze.  The cut wasn’t anything that would require stitches, but it was probably a good idea to cover the wound to keep out infection.  “There,” she breathed when she was satisfied with the patch-up job. “Good as new.”

I stared down at my hand and flexed my fingers around the tidy swatch of gauze and medical tape. “Nice job,” I approved.  “You should ask Dr. Allyse if she needs help around here.  You’re a pretty decent nurse.”

Nora sighed deeply. “Yeah, my career options are wide open.”

I stood up from the cot and stretched my legs.  “Well, I should probably get back to the kitchen.”  I jerked her head toward the door. “Don’t want Ryan thinking I’m a slacker or something for not pulling my weight.”

Nora remained seated and nodded.  “Yeah.  Wouldn’t want that to happen,” she said dully.

I chewed on my lower lip, still tempted to say something about her previous tears, but instead I turned and made for the storage room’s exit.

“Sam?”

I paused and turned my head over my shoulder. “Yeah?”

Nora worried her bottom lip.  She opened her mouth and took a deep breath.  But the words never came.  She snapped her jaw closed and shook her head sadly.  “Nothing.  Never mind,” she mumbled miserably.  “You should get back.”

I felt troubled and perplexed, but finally I nodded.  “See ya.”  I walked out of the room and closed the door behind me.

I flexed my fingers around the neat bandage.  “Goddamn it,” I growled to myself.

I turned on my heel and burst back into the storage room.

Nora was still on the cot where I’d left her.  Her eyebrows went up to her hairline in confusion. “Did you forget something?”

“I hate that you think you can’t talk to me,” I blurted out. “I know that we had a rough start, but I’ve really been trying to be nicer.  And when it’s clear you have more to say, but you hold back, it makes me think all my niceness has been for nothing.”

Nora released a manic laugh.  I felt momentarily confused and then my face clouded over with anger. “What’s so funny?” I demanded, folding my arms across my chest, instantly feeling self-conscious. “You don’t have to laugh at me,” I snarled.

I was quickly silenced by Nora’s warm fingertips on my lips.  She was now standing in front of me, her beautiful face serious.  I tried to ignore the way her hipbone felt pressed against me.

“I wasn’t laughing at you,” she murmured. “And I do recognize that you’ve been nicer, even though I don’t always make it easy on you,” she softly revealed, letting her fingers fall from my mouth.

I dropped my hands to my sides and my rigid body involuntarily relaxed. “Oh.” I felt my face flush.  “Then why…” I trailed off, “why won’t you tell me why you’re crying?”

“Because it’s embarrassing.” Nora sighed deeply.  She rubbed her hands roughly over her face.  “And if I say it out loud, it just makes it more real.”

I stood my ground, silently indicating I wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

“Fine,” she sighed again, flapping her arms at her side. “Don’t tell anyone, but I saw my dad and Dr. Allyse kissing.”

I blinked hard. “You saw what?!”

Nora cringed at my volume. “Not so loud, geez,” she winced.

I shook my head, dumbfounded. “Your dad and the doctor were kissing?  No offense, but isn’t your dad like old enough to be her father?”

Nora made a face. “I know.  It’s totally gross.”

“Hey, I’m not the one snotting all over about it though,” I cheekily pointed out.  “But,” I scrunched eyebrows together, “why the water works?”

Nora sighed and her face and shoulders fell. “You’re gonna laugh at me,” she lightly complained, sitting down on the cot once again.

“You may be surprised,” I grunted, falling easily beside her, “but I’m finding none of this funny right now.”

Nora looked over at me. “It’s just that…everyone’s got someone except me,” she revealed in a rush.

I took a moment to let her words sink in.  “And you feel left out?” I tentatively guessed.

Nora sighed miserably. “You make it sound so petty,” she grumbled. “But everyone’s all paired up down here.  It’s like Noah and the ark,” she spat out.  “My dad and the doctor, you and Ryan.  What if my dad won’t want to go to Eden anymore?” she worried.

I held up my hands. “Woah, slow down,” I insisted with wide eyes. “Ryan and I have just been hanging out. Nothing’s going on between us.  Besides, he’s not my type.”  I could have smacked myself as soon as that admittance came out.

“He’s not?”  Nora’s pink tongue poked out between two lush lips.  “What is your type?”

You, duh. I could feel Nora’s eyes on me.  I pretended to be interested in something on the wall. “I don’t know.”

“Now I think you’re the one holding back.”

I desperately needed to change the subject. “Maybe Dr. Allyse will want to go with you guys to Eden.  I’m sure they could use another doctor, right?”

As if she could sense we were talking about her, Dr. Allyse’s head popped through the doorway.  “Oh hi, girls,” she said brightly. “I thought I heard voices.”  She looked a little relieved and made no indication that she’d heard the content of our conversation.  “I’m glad there’s actually people in here,” she chuckled.  “I was worried the voices were in my head.”

I popped up from the cot, feeling guilty.  We hadn’t been doing anything wrong, but I still felt like she’d caught me with my hand in the cookie jar.

“How’s that ankle doing, Sam?  I see you’re off the crutches now.”

I smiled a little too brightly. It felt unnatural on my face. “It’s much better, thank you.  I’ll bring the crutches by in the morning.  I think another day or two with the air cast and I’ll be back to my old self.”

“Wonderful.” Dr. Allyse cleared her throat.  “Um, Nora, have you seen your father recently? I need to take his stitches out.”

Nora stood up from the cot and I braced myself for an epic confrontation.  “I’ll tell him you’re looking for him the next time I see him.” I was surprised by the evenness, the civility in her tone.  It was absent of any warmth, but at least she hadn’t been mean.  That was an improvement, right?

I gave the doctor a pained smile as Nora and I left the infirmary.  Because of my extended detour, I had probably blown my chances of getting assigned kitchen duty again, but that wasn’t the worst thing that had ever happened to me.  I didn’t know what I was going to do with the rest of the evening, but I had a hunch it involved listening to Nora complain.

+++++

CHAPTER TEN

The next day, there was no work to be done, so after breakfast I went to the library to read.  The library doubled as the school and the children of Hot Springs, only numbering a few dozen, were in the middle of their daily lesson.  I grabbed a few books from their shelves and took a seat at a vacant table on the other side of the room so as to not interrupt.

As I paged through the books I’d chosen, looking for something interesting to read, I started to think about Hot Springs and my future here.  I was warm and well-fed and I had a real bed to sleep on, but to be honest, I kind of preferred life above ground when the four of us had been constantly traveling.  Food might have been scarce and sleeping in a tent got old really fast, but at least there was a reason to wake up every morning.  At least above ground we’d had some kind of purpose.  Down here, it just felt like we were all biding our time until something happened – what that something was, I didn’t know.

I saw movement in the direction of the library doorway and frowned when I saw Ryan walk through the open door.  Hot Springs wasn’t that large – only a few acres, if that – but it felt even smaller when I kept running into Ryan.  I tilted my head back down and lifted my book, hoping it would obscure my face and that he’d either not notice me sitting here or wouldn’t interrupt my reading.

I jumped at the sound of solid flesh hitting the wooden table. Ryan stood on the other side of the table with one palm flat on its surface.

“This is you, isn’t it?”

I didn't know what he was talking about until I saw the sheen of photography poking out from beneath his flattened hand. He'd slapped a photograph on the table like we were engaged in a game of poker and he was showing off the cards in his hands. In a way though, he was.

I stared at the photograph and gasped when I recognized it.  I smoothed over the folds and creases at the corners as if not believing what I was seeing.  It was a picture of my mom, my dad, and me.  I was in my high school graduation outfit and she was in a flower-patterned dress.   My dad was in one of the suits he routinely wore to his job at the bank.  I remembered on the day of the graduation ceremony my mom had told me over and over again how proud she was of me.  She’d framed the photograph and had placed it on display on the fireplace mantle.

“How did you get this?” I whispered.  It didn’t take me long to put the pieces together.  A sharp cry escaped my lips and the photograph slipped from my fingers.  I watched it flutter to the ground.  “Y-you.”  The single word was a shaky accusation.

Ryan dropped his head.

”It’s not possible.”  I shook my head hard.  “Bandits killed my mother,” I said with conviction.

He looked up and grimaced.  “Bandits didn’t do that, Sam.  We did it – the people of Hot Springs.”

“But that’s hundreds of miles away!” I exclaimed.  I couldn’t control the volume of my voice and I knew that everyone in the room was looking at us.

Ryan nodded gravely.  “Paul convinced the Mayor to send a group across the state border because he knew about the oil-drilling equipment in Williston.  The plan was to bring all that equipment that was just sitting around and bring it back here.  We were going to use it to dig deeper and expand the compound.”

I blinked, unable to really wrap my head around what Ryan was telling me.

“When we got there, we hopped from one house to the next until we could siphon off enough gasoline for the return trip,” he continued.  “Most of the houses we raided were shabby trailers with hardly any supplies.”

I nodded, numb.  “The bachelor houses,” I vocalized.  “The temporary housing for transients working for the oil companies.”

“But then we found your house.”

“And my mom.” I was surprised my voice didn’t break with emotion.

“It was an accident,” he insisted. “She surprised us.  We thought the house was empty – every place else had been empty up until that point.  It’s like your family was the only one left in the whole damn town.”

“Who killed her, Ryan? Was it – was it you?” I wanted to know, but I was also afraid of the answer.

“No.” He shook his head.  “And I didn’t see who did it.  I promise.  All I know is that it happened really quick – I wasn’t even in the house yet.  When I got inside, the guys were all yelling at each other and freaking out.”

I felt sick, like I was going to throw up.  I swallowed down the bile and clenched and unclenched my jaw, feeling my back teeth grind together.  “Why do you have my picture?”

He picked up the photograph, which had remained on the floor since I’d dropped it.  He ran his finger along a worn edge.  “I guess…I didn’t want to forget what had happened.  It seemed too weird to me that this woman would have been living all by herself in this house.  I wondered what had happened to the other people in the picture.  I wondered if they’d died.  If they’d left her behind.”

“I was upstairs.”

He looked up suddenly. “How did you…?” he trailed off.

“My dad built an emergency escape upstairs.  My grandma, my dad…we thought you were bandits.”

Ryan looked pale.  “We might as well have been.”

I swallowed again.  “What did you do with her body?”

“We buried her.”

“But the ground is frozen,” I noted.

“I know.  But we had that excavating machinery.  It made it a little easier.”

“Where is she?”

“We found a city park that had really high snow banks.  The ground was softer there because of the high snow drifts.”

I was somewhat pacified to know that at least she’d been buried and not cannibalized.

A sudden thought popped into my head. “You took all our food.”

Ryan hung his head.  “I know. And after we came back from North Dakota, Paul convinced the Mayor and the rest of the council that the only way we’d survive is if we leeched off of the neighboring towns like we’d done in Williston.”

My eyes widened. “You can’t steal from other people, Ryan! It’s just like killing them, taking all their supplies and leaving them to starve.”

“It’s us or them,” he said stiffly.

“Why didn’t you just shoot me and my dad and the Wests on sight when you found us the other night?  We’re four more mouths to feed.”

“We’re not murderers,” he protested weakly.  “We’re survivalists.” It was the second time I’d accused him of being a murderer.   He sighed deeply.  “I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but they’ve planned another trip.  We’re going to Kalispell in the morning.  It’s a city about 60 miles north of here.”

“We have to stop them,” I asserted.  “They can’t do that.”

“We can’t stop them, Sam,” Ryan countered. “And if you don’t sign on with the program, they’ll kick you out of Hot Springs or worse.”

“I can’t sit idly while you take advantage of people who have done you no harm.”

“I can’t.  I’ve got my family here.  My mother…my little sister.”

I nodded curtly.  “I understand.  But you have to understand that I can’t turn a blind eye.  I can’t stay here and I doubt my dad will want to either.”

I could tell Ryan was internally battling with his conscience.  I wondered why he’d told me about the raids and my mother at all.

“Let me at least get some supplies for you,” he said.  “I can get back all the stuff we confiscated from your group.  It’s the least I can do.”

“You’re right,” I practically snarled.  “It is the least you can do.”

When Ryan left me in the library, I didn't know what to do with myself.

“Hey, Sammy.” Nora skipped into the room. “Whatcha up to?  Need help sounding out any big words?” she winked playfully.  Nora was in an unusually good mood.  I, however, felt like puking.

“Have you seen my dad lately?” I asked.

“Yeah. He’s playing chess with my dad in the rec room.  I think they’re addicted.”

I stood up shakily from my seat. “Let’s go.”

“What's wrong?”

“Just follow me,” I snapped.

+++++

“Sam is acting weird and she won’t tell me what's wrong,” Nora announced when we walked into the recreation room.

I didn’t know how to tell my dad the truth about my mom’s death.  I could still hardly believe it myself.

“I know who killed mom.” I could feel myself shaking, but I tried to keep my voice even.

My dad’s head lifted and his attention snapped away from his chess game.  “What?”

I swallowed hard. “Ryan, a boy I’ve been hanging out with,” I shot a look over at Nora. “He told me that he was part of a raid – a group of people from Hot Springs – who went to Williston looking for construction equipment so they could make this place bigger.  They’re the ones who killed mom.” My mouth felt dry.  I worked the muscles in my throat. “He also told me they’ve been raiding neighboring towns ever since.  That’s the reason why this place is so stocked; they’ve been stealing food and supplies from other people.”

Mr. West’s eyes darted between my dad and me. “How did you…why did he tell you?  Does he have proof?  Maybe he was just showing off for you.”

“By telling me he killed my mother?” I spat out.  “Yeah, that’s really a good way to impress a girl.”  My mother would have been disappointed in my outburst, but my resolve was close to snapping.

My dad looked similarly agitated, but he wasn’t the type to raise his voice.  He clenched onto a chess piece; it looked like a bishop.  His knuckles had turned white and I worried he might crush the chess piece in his hand. “We have to leave,” he said gravely. “Right away.”

“We’ve got to do something!” Nora hissed. She had all the delicacy of a bull in a china shop. “We can’t let them keep robbing and killing other people!”

“There's only four of us and there’s hundreds of them,” her father said pragmatically. “You have to pick your battles.”

“So we’re in agreement, then,” I pressed.  “We’re all leaving?”  My father, Mr. West, and Nora all somberly nodded.

“Ryan said he'd get everything that had been confiscated from us and some extra food.”

“You trust him?” Mr. West asked.

“He came to me,” I said. “He told me about the raids. He didn't have to do that.”

“We’ll be cautious,” my dad said evenly. “Let me know when this boy gets you the supplies back. We’re leaving right after, even if it’s in the middle of the night.” His icy blue eyes flashed in the direction of Nora and me. “But don’t be obvious about it.”

Nora and I left my father and Mr. West in the recreation room.  I wanted to start packing up my backpack right away so when it was time to leave, I’d be more than ready.  How our fathers could return to their chess game was beyond me.

“How are you so put together right now?” Nora demanded.

“What do you mean?” I felt shaken, rattled, by the day’s revelations.  I was anything but put together.

“You’re so cavalier about death,” Nora huffed. “When your grandma left, you hardly cried.  And now that you’ve found out who killed your mother, you’re about as emotional as a robot.”  Her tone was accusatory.

I stopped and turned on my heels. “What's your point, Nora? Just say what you want to say to me.”

She stared me down. “Do you feel anything other than distain?”

“I have all kinds of feelings and emotions,” I defended myself. “I just...there’s no point acting out on them. Crying isn’t going to solve anything,” I clarified, lest she read into my words.

As soon as we made it back to our bunks I began shoving my few belongings into my backpack.  My father had said not to be obvious, but no one really paid much attention to Nora and me.  We weren’t from Hot Springs.  We were outsiders and therefore not on anyone’s radar.  I figured that’s how it would always be.  Ryan had really been the only one to approach me or try to establish a friendship.

Ryan showed up not soon after we’d returned to the bunk.  I was worried his presence in the women’s barracks might garner us some unwanted attention, but no one seemed to care that an 18 year-old-boy was in the women’s bunks.

“You have a lot of nerve,” Nora said, ice in her words.  I didn’t know if she was referring to him being in the women’s quarters or chastising him for being complicit in my mother’s death.

Ryan looked justifiably uncomfortable.  “I got your things back and I slipped a little something extra in there.”  He shoved a canvas bag in my direction. “I’m sorry it’s not more; they’d notice if I took too much.  The pantry’s basically on lockdown.”

I felt a glass bottle nestled snuggly in the bag.  I looked up questioningly. “What’s this bottle in here?”

“It’s just some homemade hooch.  It won’t freeze, and I don’t know, it’s good for stuff,” he shrugged. “Cleaning wounds, keeping warm.  I’m sorry.”

I shoved the canvas bag under one of the bunk mattresses and out of sight. “So how do we get out of this place?” Surviving above ground with scant supplies didn’t worry me; getting out of Hot Springs did.  I hadn’t seen anyone coming or going since we’d first come underground.

“There won’t be anyone guarding the main entrance after lights out.  That will be your window to leave.”

I nodded. “Thank you, Ryan.”

“Don’t do that.” He ducked his head. “You’ve got nothing to thank me for.”

+++++

Ryan hadn’t lied.  Soon after the overhead lights flickered out that evening for lights-out, the halls emptied.  My father and I and Nora and her father silently stalked, seemingly undetected, to the front entrance. We were bundled up for the world above ground, backpacks secured to our backs, supplies divvied up amongst the four of us.  The only thing that separated us from the outside was the long corridor that climbed above ground.

“Be as quiet as you can,” my dad instructed. “We’re not safe yet.”

I followed his lead through the thick darkness just as I had that first night when the group from Hot Springs had raided our home. Above ground it was silent, the only sound the crunching of snow beneath our boots. The air was still, absent of any wind, making the night temperature manageable. We’d be able to travel with the moon as our guide tonight without freezing.

My dad poked his head around the corner of a cinder block building on the old high school grounds.  He quickly pulled his head back and quietly swore.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Two men,” he whispered. “They look like guards.”

I peered around the corner. Two men, bundled up in heavy overcoats, smoked cigarettes just outside the compound's main entrance. They looked relaxed, leaning against a chain-link fence. Their guns, long barreled and glinting beneath the moonlight, were propped up against the fence as well.

I looked to my dad for reassurance.  How were we going to leave without them seeing us?  Beside me, I heard him take a deep breath. He stepped out from the shadows before I could stop him.

“Hey guys.”

“Who’s there?” one of the men called out.  They both discarded their cigarettes and retrieved their guns.

“It’s Brandon Poulsen.  I’m part of that group you all took in a few days ago.”

The two men rattled their weapons. “You’re not supposed to be up here,” one of the men said. His voice sounded nervous and unsure.

My dad held up his hands. “I know.  But just listen, my family and I, we need to leave. No hard feelings, but we just can’t stay here anymore.”

One of the men lowered his weapon, but the other had his still raised. “Did you talk to the Mayor about this?”

“Yeah,” my dad lied without hesitation. “He said he understood why we had to go.”

Both men now lowered their guns, and I felt a wave of relief as I continued to hide behind the cinder block building.  Nora, standing beside me, nudged me in the ribs, but I held up a gloved finger to my lips, indicating she should remain silent.

“I need to make a call to confirm that,” the man who’d been doing all the talking stated.

My dad’s voice sounded tight. “I figured you would.”

The man picked up a corded phone inside a port-a-potty that had been unusually converted into a guard station.  He didn’t dial any number; it seemed to be a direct connection.  I held my breath as I watched my dad and the other guard have a staring contest.

“Hey, Paul? It's Mike B,” the first guard said into the receiver. “Yeah, I’m up top on duty. There’s a guy here who said he talked to the Mayor about leaving.” He held his hand over the mouthpiece. “What’s your name again?” he asked my dad.

Before my father could answer him, a loud crack pierced the thin winter air.  It was so loud and so nearby, I nearly fell over.  The man who’d been on the phone clutched at his stomach, groaning. The phone fell from his hand to hang limply near his side.  He fell first to his knees and then sideways in the snow.

At first, I didn’t realize what that sound had been and why the guardsman was doubled over until the second guard brought up his assault rifle and aimed it in the direction from where the noise had come.  Another gunshot rang out, hollow and chilling.  It had missed the second gunman, and he started to shoot indiscriminately.

I closed my eyes and huddled in my hiding spot.  In the chaos, our group had split up.  I didn’t know where my dad had gone and I didn’t know where Mr. West and Nora were hiding either.  The shooting continued, single gun shots from wherever Mr. West was, followed by the rapid multiple shots from the second guardsman and his more lethal weapon.  I heard a woman shriek over the gunfire and my body went rigid when I recognized it as belonging to Nora.

Ryan had been able to recover Mr. West’s handgun along with my hunting knife.  Even when my dad had returned the gun to its owner when we’d divided up our supplies before going above ground, I had thought it was a bad idea.  Now, crouched in the snow, I hated that I’d been right.

The gunfire paused momentarily on both sides, maybe to reload or maybe people were out of bullets.  Either way, I leapt from my hiding spot and rushed toward the continued cries coming from behind a wooden shed.

Mr. West was on the ground. His eyes were open, vacant, and lifelessly staring up at the sky.

My dad appeared at my elbow. He glanced down at Mr. West’s body, but made no comment. “We need to move,” he said gruffly. “More people will be coming.  There’s no way Paul didn’t hear all of that on the phone.”

As if his words had caused their appearance, five or six dark figures bounded out of the main entrance, all holding menacing-looking guns that seemed out of place in a wintery landscape and more appropriate to some sandy desert in the Middle East.  However, as I thought about it, those sand dunes were probably snow drifts now.

“Go!” my dad barked, rattling me from my train of thought.

Both Nora and I sprang to our feet and took off running.  I heard shouting behind me, distant voices that I didn't want to get any closer.  I didn't know where I was running to; all I could think about was getting away without my ankle giving out.

We hid behind one of those giant sleds that football players shove across the field during practice.  I clamped my hand over Nora’s mouth when two men dressed all in black ran past our hiding spot.  It was too dark. They wouldn’t be able to follow our footprints with any speed.  Only when they were out of sight did I remove my hand.

“We have to go back.”  Even with only moonlight as our guide, I could see the wet tears streaming down her face.

“No.  We have to keep going,” I insisted.  “We have to put as much distance as we can between us and this place.”

“But my dad,” she choked out.

“He’s dead,” I hissed. “And if you go back, you’ll be dead, too.”

“What about your dad?” she countered.  “You’re just going to leave him behind?”

My throat constricted. “If he got away, he’ll make it to Eden – as long as your dad didn’t lie and there’s actually such a place.”

Her chin elevated and stuck out.  “My dad wouldn’t lie.  Eden exists.”

“Can you get us there?” I asked.

“I-I think so.” Her voice was shaky and unsure, and it did nothing for my confidence.  “If I can get my hands on a road map, I think I can find it.  I’m not that familiar with this part of the country, but he showed me a few times in case we ever got separated.”

It wasn’t ideal, but it was better than nothing.  “We have to get moving,” I said, pulling on a brave façade.  One of us had to be strong, and it was clear that at least for the moment, it wasn’t going to be her.  “Let’s go.”  I shouldered my pack.  “We need to put some distance between us and Hot Springs.  We’ll look for a gas station to find a road map later.”

I could tell her instinct was to defy my orders.  Her right cheek concaved as if she had to bite on her inner cheek to refrain from disagreeing.  I was glad her common sense kicked in and she complied; I wasn’t in the mood to argue with her anymore.

We walked single-file in silence.  I didn’t know our destination and that made me uneasy.  But I steered us west and kept moving, ever mindful that Hot Spring’s hostile residents could be tracking our steps at that very moment.  There was no hiding our steps in the crunchy, stale snow, however.  The best we could do was use each other’s foot impressions to lessen evidence of our existence and not make too much noise tromping through the woods. The longer we could walk hidden by trees, the better.  They’d offer us cover from any bandits roaming the streets and we’d have better luck finding shelter for the night than in the long stretches of flat prairie.  I bent my head and hastened my step, eager to leave Hot Springs and its residents behind.

“Sam, I’ve gotta stop,” Nora’s thin voice sounded behind me.  “I can’t keep going.”

I stopped and hooked my thumbs beneath the straps of my backpack.  I took stock of our surroundings.  The woods were fairly dense; it seemed as good of a spot to stop for the night as any.  Plus, I was getting tired, too – not that I’d ever admit that to Nora.

I shrugged out of my pack and let it drop to the powdered snow.  As soon as the ground covering fluffed up around my discarded bag, I realized we were in trouble.

“Shit.”

“What’s wrong now?” Nora snapped.  I could tell she was ready to crumble.  This little bit of bad news might push her over the edge, but she was going to find out sooner or later.

“My dad’s backpack had our tent in it.  I don’t suppose…” I trailed off because I honestly expected the worst at this point.

Her eyes were as large as plates – big moon eyes like a cartoon character.  “My dad had my tent, too.  He wanted to lighten my load.”

“Mother fucker,” I cursed again.

“Sam.” Nora’s voice wavered on my name.  “What are we going to do?  It’s getting colder – there’s no way we’ll make it to Idaho sleeping in just our sleeping bags.”

I nodded.  She wasn’t saying anything I didn’t already know.  We could try to tough it out in the open, just bundled up in our sleeping bags.  It would really be a test to see how true those sub-freezing thresholds were.  But trying to weather a snowstorm or a particularly vicious windstorm in nothing but a sleeping bag would be foolhardy and suicide.  We needed something more permanent.  I could always build a shelter out of fallen logs like a rough log cabin. It would provide just enough of a wind break to keep us warm enough for survival, but constructing such a structure every night would take too much time and drain my energy, and I doubted I’d be able to find enough wood in the vicinity appropriate for such a task.

My thoughts went back to a cave I’d spotted just a few moments prior to Nora’s plea to stop for the night.  If it was deep enough and empty, it would do the job for tonight.

“Come on,” I said, sliding into my pack again.  The brief relief from the bag’s added weight had been nice.  My lower back was starting to ache as I began retracing our previous steps.

“Wait.  Where are you going?” Nora demanded.  “I’m not going back to Hot Springs.  I’d rather freeze to death than make peace with those animals.”

“We’re not going back,” I promised her.  “I thought I saw a cave about a hundred yards back.  We might be able to sleep there tonight.”

Her boots started to crunch in the snow indicating she had resumed following me.  I kept to the single-file trail we’d left behind so as not to draw more attention to our trek by making it wider.  I also kept my eyes peeled for any indentations in the surrounding snow that might indicate a large animal lived and hunted in the vicinity. Actually, I almost hoped there would be some wild animal living inside.  I didn’t know if my hunting knife alone would be up to the task, but we could have a really nice meal.  I tried to not get my hopes up.

I re-spotted the rock formation I’d seen before.  I mentally crossed my fingers that the moonlight hadn’t been playing tricks on me and there actually was a cave.  I stopped just in front of the mouth of the cave and crouched down. The opening was large enough for us to easily pass through, but it was large enough for predatory animals or other humans, too.  I couldn’t make out any discernible tracks in front of the cave, but if a strong wind had recently been through the area, it very well could have wiped the ground clean, erasing all signs of life.  I wished I had a lighter or a flashlight so I could peer inside.

Nora remained silent by my side.  When I began to move forward, she stopped me, snagging me by the elbow.  “Are you sure it’s safe?” she whispered.

“No.  That’s why I have to go in.”

“There’s not another way to check?”

“Not unless you want to stand out here until morning.  And even then, depending on how deep this cave goes,” I noted, “the sunlight might not be enough to illuminate the entire thing anyway.”

She dropped my elbow and nodded solemnly.  “Then we go in together.”

“That’s not necessary,” I protested.  “I’ll be fine.”

“I just lost my dad, Sam.” Her voice wavered on the words unsteadily.  “I’m not going to risk losing you, too.”

I sighed.  I knew she was too stubborn and had too much of an independent streak to let me win this argument.  She grabbed my hand with her similarly gloved hand and tugged me forward.

I felt around blindly with my free hand.  Eventually I had to let go of her hand so I could move more efficiently once inside the cave.  The ceiling was about four feet high – an awkward height at which I felt foolish crawling on my hands and knees, but too short to walk upright without some serious stooping.  The toe of my boot caught on something and I fell forward.  My arms flailed, trying to find something to break my fall.  When my hands grabbed something soft and plush and I heard the startled noise Nora made, I realized my mistake.

“Not the cave,” she mumbled.

“Sorry.”  I felt heat inflame my cheeks.

I took off my gloves so I could feel around the outer edges of the shallow cave.  I willed my eyes to adjust to the darkness.  I didn’t want to waste any resources trying to illuminate the place.

“Do you have something to start a fire with?” Nora asked. “Should I go look for some wood to burn?”

“A fire’s just going to make things worse. Best case scenario, we get choked out by smoke. Worse case, the fire acts like a beacon and the people from Hot Springs find us and kill us.”

“Do you really think they’d do that?” Her voice trembled from fear or from the cold, I couldn’t tell which.

I didn’t think now was the time to remind her that they’d gunned down her father. Mr. West had drawn his weapon first, but that didn’t excuse his death.

“Let’s not chance it,” I said simply.  I hoped it would be enough. “I’m gonna go sweep away our footprints and set up an animal trap. Maybe it’ll catch us breakfast.”

Nora didn’t really look like she’d heard me. “Don't go far.” She looked up at me, eyes red around the edges. “I've lost too much already tonight.”

+++++

When I came back inside the cave, Nora had unrolled both of our sleeping bags.  She snapped to attention at the sound of my footsteps.  “I don't think I’m going to make it through the night, Sam.”

“You’ll be fine,” I told her as I sat down beside her. “The cave blocks out most of the wind and we still have our sleeping bags.”

“I don’t mean the cold.  I mean because of what happened to my dad.” She buried her face in her gloved hands and I heard the unmistakable sound of her grief.

Her vulnerability in front of me, how she was allowing herself to fall apart, was one of the bravest things I’d ever witnessed.  I stroked her back through her thick jacket. My touch was tentative and I wondered if she could even feel it. “I’m sorry everything has gone to shit.”

“If I hadn’t been so insistent that we leave for Eden, he’d still be alive.  If I had done a lot of things differently...” she mumbled off. She stared straight ahead.

“If he hadn’t pulled out that god damn gun, he’d still be alive.”

She looked sharply at me and I held up my hands, surrendering. “He was protecting me.”

“I know. I’m sorry,” I uselessly apologized again. “I just don't want you blaming yourself over this.”

The hard look on her face softened at its edges. “Thank you, Sam.  But I don’t deserve your kindness. I’ve done nothing but be an annoying thorn in your side since we met.”

“You helped me when I twisted my ankle,” I reminded her. “At the springs when we were being chased. And after.” I felt the blood rush to my face, remembering how uncomfortable I’d been when I’d slipped in the shower.  But she’d surprised me by letting her concern for me trump the obvious teasing that should have come from that incident.

“Well, I couldn’t just let you flop around on the bathroom floor forever like a fish out of water.”

When I braved a glance back up to her face, I saw a small, fleeting smile play across her lips.

“Here.”  I pulled out the bottle of moonshine Ryan had given me.  Unlike any other beverage, this wouldn’t freeze no matter how cold it got.  “Drink this.”

She didn’t ask me what it was.  She lifted the bottle to her lips and drank.  The moment the alcohol hit her tongue she began sputtering and coughing.  “What the hell?” she angrily choked.  “You could have warned me.”

I took the bottle back and drank deeply.  The fiery liquid burned down my throat, but I’d been expecting the heat and didn’t choke on it like she had.  “It’ll warm you up,” I said simply.

“So would a fire.”

I took another long pull and wiped at my mouth with the back of my hand.  “We can’t risk it.  There’s not enough distance between us and Hot Springs.  And I don’t want every bandit in a 10-mile radius sniffing us out.”

“Give me that bottle.” She snatched it from my hand before I could offer it her way.  She took another long pull and this time only sputtered a little bit.  When she brought the bottle back up to her lips for a third drink, I grabbed onto her wrist.

“Slow down, Princess.”  She glared at me and the new nickname.  I’d have to remember that for the future.  “We may need that later.”

She practically growled, but she relinquished the bottle.  I twisted the cap back on the bottle and returned it to its place in my backpack.

She smacked her lips, capturing any remaining booze.  “So now what?”

I zipped up my backpack and puffed it up like a pillow.  “Now we go to sleep.  We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow.  We need more distance between us and Hot Springs and we need a map so hopefully we can figure out where Eden is.”

Her mouth did that strange convulsing thing again.  It was her instinct, I knew, to argue with me.  But we’d have a long day – probably the longest since the people of Hot Springs had destroyed my family and our comfortable existence.  We’d both lost our fathers tonight.  At least I could hold onto a sliver of hope that mine had escaped as we had and that we’d meet up again at Eden.  She didn’t have that luxury.

“We’ll move at first light.”

I laid down on the solid floor of our sheltering cave.  I knew it was going to be a long night. Even with my thick sleeping bag, it was useless to find comfort on the solid, cold ground.  I’d gotten too comfortable in Hot Springs.

Nora didn’t look like she was faring much better. In the dim light of the cave, the moonlight just barely spilling in on where we lay, I could see how her shoulders shook.  I scooted myself and my cocoon sleeping bag across the cavern’s floor until her body was within reach.  I rearranged myself directly behind her and flung my arm over her mid-section and pulled her tight against me.

“What are you doing?” she complained.  The annoyance in her tone was palpable.

“I’m keeping you warm,” I grunted.  “You’re shivering so much, it’s making me cold.”

I didn’t know how anyone could smell so good.  I breathed in through my nose, inhaling her sweet scent.  We had used the same shampoo and conditioner and soap at Hot Springs, but I certainly didn’t smell like that.

“Are you smelling my hair?” she scoffed.

“I’m just breathing.  God,” I sighed loudly, feigning annoyance to cover my embarrassment at being caught, “does everything have to be about you?”  My arm was still lightly around her waist and she made no attempt to move it.

“I'm sorry,” I sighed. The phrase tumbled out of my mouth around her more than I liked.  I didn’t like apologizing and I hated admitting when I was wrong even more. “I didn’t mean to snap at you.  It’s been a rough day for both of us.”

“You don’t have to apologize.” I felt her fingers, slim and slightly colder than mine, wrap around my wrist and pull my arm tighter against her chest.  “I’ve been acting like I own a monopoly on loss. Your dad...”

“He’ll be alright,” I said firmly.

“I hope so,” she responded in a quiet, far off voice I almost couldn’t hear because of the wind shrieking beyond the cave walls.

She mumbled something else, and this time I really couldn’t hear her.

“What’d you say?” I asked.

She spun under my draped arm and suddenly we were nose to nose.  My eyes widened and I swallowed hard.  She was too close.  I shouldn’t have offered to keep her warm.  I was just setting myself up to fail.

If she recognized how her proximity had caused me to stiffen up, she didn’t comment on it.  “Do you believe me about Eden?”  Her voice had dropped an octave or so.

I didn’t know why I felt the need to whisper, too.  “At this point, I kind of have to.”

+++++

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The next morning I woke up before Nora and slithered out of the cave as quietly as I could so she could continue to sleep.  I had barely managed a few consecutive hours and I couldn’t imagine she had fared any better.  Outside of our emergency shelter, the sun was already bright and high in the sky.  I stood there for a moment, just letting the sun’s rays heat my face.

God, my body hurt.  I didn’t think I’d gone soft from the few days we’d been at Hot Springs, but my joints ached like never before.  It didn’t help that my ankle hadn’t healed entirely before we were once again running knee-deep in snow drifts. I wondered if my body would ever feel normal again. Maybe this stiff achiness was my new normal. We needed to find a tent; we couldn’t keep sleeping in caves.  But even more than that I couldn’t assume that we’d continue to find caves or similar shelters every night on our way to Eden.

I spied something small and furry and dead in the trap I had set the previous night.  When I saw the squirrel, it felt like a victory even if it was puny.  We’d rebuilt our strength while at Hot Springs, but we would need to keep hunting to support our diet.  The weather wouldn’t defeat us, but exhaustion would if we didn’t keep our energy up.

I won’t lie.  As I crouched in the snow, skinning the tiny animal that had been foolish enough to wander into my baited trap, the thought of leaving Nora behind did cross my mind.  I would travel a hell of a lot faster without her.  And it would be a whole lot quieter and headache free.  But I just couldn’t do it.

I began the task of gathering sticks and fallen logs that looked dry enough to start a fire.  We wouldn’t be sticking around this place for much longer that morning, so I didn’t need to find a lot of fuel – just enough to cook the squirrel I’d caught – but it would be nice to get thoroughly warm before we started on another long day of walking.

“Will you show me how to do that?”

“Jesus,” I yelped.  I promptly dropped the sticks I had cradled in my arms. Nora’s voice startled me. I had been so lost in my own thoughts that I hadn’t noticed her exit the cave.

“Sorry.” She bit her lower lip and looked properly apologetic.  “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

I gave her a look of disbelief.

Her smirk gave her away. “Okay, so maybe I did.”

I crouched down to recollect the wood and arranged it like a tiny teepee on the ground.  I stood up and brushed some snow away from my knees.  “What do you want me to show you?”

“How to start a fire.”  She looked away.  “It seems like something I should know how to do.”

I nodded slowly.  “Yeah, I can do that.”  I pointed at a nearby cluster of trees.  “See those birch trees over there?”

Nora shielded her eyes from the glare of the sun to look in the direction of where I was pointing.  “Those black and white ones?”

“Yeah,” I confirmed.  “Go pull some bark from one of the trees and bring it back.”

She dutifully marched across the snow-covered field and did as she was told.  She had to stand on her tiptoes to reach a spot on the trunk that hadn’t been stripped clean.  I assumed it was the work of hungry deer, not other travelers.  I doubted that any deer or similarly large wild animals were still alive though.  It would just be small creatures like rabbits, squirrels, and chipmunks from now on.

While Nora collected birch bark, I made sure the sticks were arranged just so and retrieved my fire starter from my backpack.

Her boots crunched in the snow as she returned to my side.  “Do you use a lighter or matches or are you some kind of fire-starting MacGyver?”

“Matches can get soggy and lighters need fluid.”  I knew I sounded like my pragmatic father. “All you need is a little flint and steel.” I handed her the fire starters for inspection. “The flint will wear down eventually, but it’ll last a lot longer than a book of matches.”

She turned the flint and steel over a few times in her hands before returning them to me.

I wrapped the metal ring around my knuckles. My father had taught me how to start a fire like this soon after the news had broke that the climate was going to dramatically change.  At the time I’d thought the steel striker looked like brass knuckles.

I struck the steel against the grey flint.  Sparks jumped from the rock and landed on the fibrous nest of birch bark I’d made.  I cupped my hands around the knot of papery bark and gently blew.  “It’s all about the nest,” I said.

The bark smoked before igniting.  I heard Nora make a noise when small, nascent flames leapt from the bark.

“Careful,” she warned. “Don’t burn yourself.”

I flashed her a brief smile. “It’s not my first rodeo.”  I took three careful steps toward the small pile of sticks I’d assembled.  I still gingerly held the smoldering and flickering bark cupped in my hands.

“So now I just put this inside the little teepee,” I said, “and we’ll have a fire provided the sticks I picked are dry enough.”

I must have been a little too cocky and nonchalant about how quickly the birch bark nest would ignite, because it suddenly combusted and singed the palms of my hands.

“Damn it,” I cursed.  I reflexively dropped the flaming nest and could only watch in horror as the nascent fire fizzled out in the snow.

“Not your first rodeo, huh?” Nora teased.

I rubbed my palms across the ground.  The snow helped ease the sting.  I hadn’t really burned myself, but I was embarrassed that I’d messed up in front of Nora.

When I was a little girl, maybe 5 or 6, my mom went on vacation for a long weekend with her sisters to the Twin Cities.  The Mall of America had just opened and it had become the premiere destination for Midwestern moms. It was also the first – and the last – vacation my mom took without my father and me.  In preparation for the long weekend, she had stocked the fridge with everything we’d need while she was gone – hot dogs, macaroni and cheese, and chicken nuggets – all meals she’d reasoned my father could manage on his own.

On the Friday that she’d left, my father was making mac and cheese on the stovetop.  My job was to set the dinner table.  I’d wanted to be extra helpful, but when I was trying to pour two glasses of milk, the plastic jug slipped from my hands.  It had been a brand new gallon that was supposed to last us until my mom got back on Monday.  I remembered I’d felt frozen with the indecision of youth, but with a mixed rapture, watching all that milk cascading like a frothy waterfall over the edge of the table as it had spilled across the dining room table and onto the carpeted floor.

Despite my father’s quick temper, he hadn’t scolded or punished me.  I just remembered him soaking up a gallon of milk with a mountain of paper towels and mumbling, “No sense crying over spilled milk.”  Maybe he recognized that it was just the two of us and we’d have to soldier on without my mom to fix things.  Now, a decade and a half later, every time I made a mistake, I was transported back to that moment of being a child and feeling like it was the end of the world because I’d wasted a gallon of milk.

Like my father, so many years ago, I was just beginning to realize that it was just the two of us now – it was just Nora and me – and we’d have to figure things out for ourselves.

I grabbed some of the extra bark Nora had collected and made a new nest.  This time I concentrated on the task at hand and successfully got the fire going without further incident.

“That’s some trick,” Nora openly admired.  The fire snapped and popped in response.

“Next time we come across a town,” I said, stoking the fire to make sure it didn’t die on me before I could cook breakfast, “we’ll find a camping store or something that might have flint and steel so you can have your own fire starter.”   I knew it wasn’t smart to linger around towns because of potential bandits. But Nora’s smile was wide and genuine and it was all for me.

“So what’s the plan for today?” She pulled her arms through the puffy sleeves of her winter coat. “I hope it includes finding a tent.”

I looked up at the sky. “Get more distance between us and Hot Springs and closer to Eden, I suppose.”

“How do we find Eden?”  Good question.

“We’ve got the sun and I’ve got a compass, so we keep traveling west,” I noted. “Hopefully we run into a town and find a map.”

“That sounds awfully iffy.”

I couldn’t have agreed more, but what other choice did we have at this point?

“You might want to look away,” I grunted.

“Why?”

“Because I’m going to butcher this squirrel for breakfast.”

“Sq-squirrel?” she stuttered, eyes wide.

“It’s delicious.”  It really wasn’t, but we needed the protein.  “Just pretend it’s rabbit.”

“Rabbit?!”

“Oh, God,” I groaned. “Just look away.”

I pulled my hunting knife from its protective sheath and carefully sliced away at the meatiest portions of the animal’s legs, arms, and torso.  The animal was small, so it took some talent to salvage enough meat to make the kill worth it.  When I’d butchered the animal, I skewered the meat as best as I could with the two straightest, sturdiest sticks I could find.  The campfire hissed as I held the dripping meat over the crackling flames.  As I held the skewers, I wistfully dreamed of corn on the cob and watermelon. What I wouldn’t have done for a vegetable or a fresh piece of fruit.

Once I was satisfied with the look of the meat, sure that it had been cooked through, I handed Nora a stick that contained a spindly leg. She turned up her nose, looking thoroughly horrified at the prospect of eating a near-rodent for breakfast, but eventually she took the stick from me.

I didn’t care, so I tore into the tough, gamey meat with the help of my canines, shredding through the animal’s body.  The hot juices licked the tips of my fingers.  I eagerly consumed the smoky flesh and wiped the back of my hand across my face, no doubt smearing grease across my cheeks. Even without inspecting myself in a mirror or looking at the reflective nature of an iced-over pond, I knew I was a mess – my hair matted beneath my hat, my clothing bloodied and dirty, and my skin raw from overexposure.

Even though I couldn’t deny anymore that I was attracted to Nora, I couldn’t afford to be dainty in order to impress her. There was only survival now.

+++++

After our spartan breakfast, we packed up our things and proceeded to walk west for the rest of the day.  The sun and my compass were all we had for now, but I hoped we’d run into a little town soon so we could get a proper map and more food to supplement the few items Ryan had been able to steal for us.

We walked all day, only stopping periodically for water breaks. The landscape was becoming more mountainous, which helped regulate the temperature while we remained in the valley below. I tried to remember what they’d called it in my 8th grade earth science class.  A chinook? I couldn’t remember.

“What are we going to do about shelter tonight?” Nora asked.  Her voice nearly startled me.  She had been quiet most of the day.  I had wanted to keep her mind off of the events of the previous night – namely the death of her father – but I knew there was nothing I could do or say to her that would make a difference.

“Well, we’re not going to get lucky and find another cave tonight,” I noted, shifting the slight weight of my backpack from one shoulder to the other.  I hated how light it felt.  It reminded me of just how few supplies we had.  Between the two of us were two sleeping bags, a fire starter, one small animal trap, a can opener, a bottle of barely passable moonshine, an assortment of canned goods, and a few paraffin candles.

“Only you would think about getting lucky in a cave, Fargo,” Nora quipped.

“That's not what I said!” I sputtered.

“I know,” she beamed. “But I love making you squirm.”

“I guess we could build a lean-to to block out the wind,” I said, thinking out loud and trying to dismiss the butterflies in my stomach. Her seemingly innocent flirting still made me uncomfortable even now. “We’ll have to stop walking for the day earlier than usual so we have time to build it before the sun sets, but as long as we can find enough fallen wood, we’ll be fine.”

“And that’ll keep us warm enough?” Nora questioned.  Her breath made small puffs of white smoke as she spoke.

I tried to sound more confident than I felt.  “We can keep a low fire going through the night and the wall of fallen trees will block the worst of the wind gusts.  Our sleeping bags will have to do the rest.”

“If I wake up a Popsicle,” Nora snorted. “I’m coming after you.”

She started to walk again, but then abruptly stopped in her tracks. “Do you see that?” she called out.

I stopped too and peered across the horizon. “Is that a Ferris wheel?” I wondered aloud.  It looked like a mirage in the distance and for a brief moment I worried that I was starting to see things that weren’t really there.

“You see it, too,” Nora said with some relief.  She must have been wondering the same thing about herself.  She picked up her pace, not quite running, but noticeably faster than before.

“Nora!” I called after her, annoyance creeping into my voice.  She didn’t slow down, so I was forced to hurry my step, too.

Nora stopped when we were about a football field length away from what looked like a state fair.  The horizon was dotted with carnival rides – the giant Ferris wheel, a tilt ‘o whirl, bumper cars, and booths hanging with stuffed animals and games designed to not let you win.

I had gotten used to how lifeless and silent the world had become, but something about this deserted carnival creeped me out. “This is the thing nightmares are made of,” I muttered beneath my breath.

“I think it’s kind of charming,” Nora remarked.  “Like it’s frozen in time, just waiting for things to go back to the way they used to be.”

I stared up at the Ferris wheel.  Its two-person cars squeaked on their hinges as they tilted back and forth with every slight breeze.

“I don't do heights,” I announced.

For as far back as I could remember, I’d always hated heights.  In high school I had stood with my feet firmly planted on the ground while my friends all paired up and hopped into Ferris wheel cars at the country fair grounds.  I would have been content to wait it out until everyone had gotten their spin on the wheel if not for Andrea’s hand finding mine and dragging me onto a vacant car.  While she had gabbed about her disappointment that some guy she had a crush on had picked another girl to ride the Ferris wheel with, I had white-knuckled the bar sitting lightly across our laps.  Not even Andrea’s proximity had been able to ease my discomfort.

“We should get going,” I murmured, still eyeballing the Ferris wheel with contempt.

“Corndogs,” Nora muttered beside me. “Why am I suddenly craving corndogs?”

I gave her a wry smile. “You from a year ago is crying right now.”

“I know,” she laughed.  Her good mood managed to shatter my feelings of foreboding. “What’s wrong with me?”

“I guess when you’re starving even corndogs sound good,” I shrugged.

“Let’s look around,” she suggested. “Maybe there’s something here we can use.”

I hesitated.  Even when frozen in place that giant Ferris wheel was like a giant beacon to anyone within a mile radius.

“Just a quick look,” I relented despite my misgivings. “But then we really have to leave.”

She nodded crisply, aware as well of the unnecessary danger this detour put us in.  My dad never would have stopped here, I thought to myself.  But this was no longer a dictatorship with him in the lead. Nora and I were partners in this. We’d both be responsible for our bad decisions.

We passed the Midway with its rows upon rows of carnival games. Giant stuffed animals swung stiffly from their hanging places, adding a new sound to the crisp snap of stale snow under our feet. Their black beaded eyes stared blankly ahead.

Nora stopped in front of a one of those booths where you throw a softball and try to knock down milk jars filled with sand.  She hefted a neon yellow softball in one hand, tossing it from one gloved hand to the other.

“Don't you dare throw that,” I warned her.

She smiled mischievously. “What are you gonna do to me if I do?” she taunted. She lifted her arm as if to toss the ball at the neatly stacked milk bottles.

I lunged for her and she let out a girlie shriek, immediately dropping the yellow softball.  We both tumbled to the ground, the thick snow breaking our fall.

“I wasn’t going to throw it,” she huffed.  “I'm not an idiot.”

I’m sure a part of me knew that. But another part, a bigger part, had wanted an excuse to tackle her.

Her aqua blue eyes stared up at me.  I realized I was practically on top of her, one leg thrown over midsection.  I also realized I was breathing heavy.  But after all the walking we’d done over the past few weeks it had nothing to do with exhaustion or overexertion. It had everything to do with her proximity and an unexpected emotion reflected in those expressive, wide eyes.

My head snapped up when I heard a sound I didn’t recognize. I rolled off of Nora and crouched low.  Her eyes, which had previously mirrored something else, now looked scared.  I held a single finger up to my lips.

I wasn’t sure what my plan was, but still in my crouched position, I shuffled in the direction of the unfamiliar noise.  Nora grabbed me by the leg of my snow pants and shook her head.  I gestured with my hands that it was going to be okay and that I was just going to take a look.

I started to slowly stand up so I could see over the half-wall of one of the carnival booths.  The wind was knocked out of me though when I found myself being tackled from behind.  Arms wrapped around my waist and when I hit the frozen ground – hard and face first – I landed on balled up fists that forced the air from my lungs.

“What’s your problem?” I hissed to the woman now on top of me.

“I had to stop you from doing something stupid,” Nora’s voice filled my right ear.

“So you decided to do something stupid instead?” I charged.

If anyone had been lurking in the area, they certainly would have heard the noise I’d made when I face-planted.  When no one came investigating, my worry that bandits were in the area abated.

Nora rolled off of me and I pulled myself out of the snow.  I yanked off one of my gloves and gingerly pressed my fingers to the side of my face.  My right cheek was stinging where it had made contact with the solid ground.

“Did I do that?” Nora’s gloved hand moved toward my face, but I jerked away so she couldn’t touch me.

“Yeah.  Thanks for the face-wash,” I complained.  I shoved my hand back into my glove.

She frowned and looked guilty.  “I’m sorry, Sam.  I wanted to stop you from being a hero.”

I tried my jaw, opening and closing it a few times.  My lower jaw was sore, but nothing was broken and I still had all my teeth.  My face, however, was another story.  I could feel the sting of tiny cuts on the right side of my face.

“Duly noted,” I clipped. “Don’t be a hero.”

“We should stay here tonight,” Nora pronounced.

“We might not be alone.”

“Do you have a better idea?” she challenged. “It's not going to be light for much longer and we still don’t have a tent.”

I knew she was right, but that didn’t mean it was a safe option. But if we kept moving who knows what we’d find out there for shelter.

“Okay. But we have to leave as soon as it’s morning.”

Nora nodded. “Agreed. Now let’s go find some corndogs and someplace to spend the night.”

We didn’t find any corndogs – every concession area we came upon had already been picked over by someone else.  But we did find someplace to spend the night.  It was a small trailer, maybe belonging to whomever had overseen the daily operations of the carnival.  Inside was an old couch, an office chair and desk, and a primitive kitchenette with only a sink, small refrigerator, and some storage cabinetry.  More importantly though it had a single window and a door that locked.  If someone really wanted to get in, the locked door would only keep them out for so long, but it gave me enough security that I’d be able to sleep that night.

I unrolled my sleeping bag on the floor.  The carpet was probably dirtier than most surfaces I’d slept on, but it was dry enough and warm enough and soft enough to be an improvement over the cave from the previous night.

“You can have the couch,” I offered.

“Thanks, but I’ll pass.” Nora curled her lip. “I don’t even want to think about all the gross things clinging to that couch.  I’ll rough it on the floor, too.”

She dropped her pack and started investigating the contents of cabinets and desk drawers.

I finished setting up my sleeping area. There was still enough daylight coming in through the trailer’s single window to illuminate the space.

I sat down on top of my sleeping bag, choosing to avoid the couch, too.  “Find anything?” I asked.

Nora held up two empty glass bottles. “They’re out of alcohol.”

“If you’re really desperate, we’ve still got that moonshine,” I reminded her.

“I’m convinced you’re trying to poison me,” she quipped in return.  She hugged herself when a brisk wind shook the trailer.  “I don't suppose we can build a fire in here.” The trailer was little more than a tin can and every time the wind blew, the temperature seemed to drop a few degrees.

I slapped my palm against my forehead. “Oh my God,” I exclaimed. “I can't believe I forgot about that.”

Nora gave me a confused look as I dumped my backpack on the floor and began rummaging inside for three essential items. I pulled out a sealed can of green beans, the can opener, and my fire starter. “Hand me one of those candles from your backpack, will you?” I instructed.

I looked around the trailer for something to empty the beans into.  I found a Styrofoam cup that didn’t look too disgusting.  I caught a bit of paper on fire with my flint and steel and used the flame to melt the wax at the bottom of one of the candles.  The wax stayed hot and soft just long enough for me to adhere it to the bottom of the empty bean can.  I then lit the wick on the opposite end.

“Ta da!”

“What am I supposed to be impressed with?” Nora blinked.

“The candle will heat up the can and the can will heat up us!” I beamed, proud that I’d remembered one of the winter survival tips my dad had taught me.

I set out to make a second tin can fire so we would each have one.

Nora looked skeptical. “A tin can and a candle is going to keep me warm?”

“We won't need much heat,” I remarked. “This trailer is pretty solid and we’ve got our sleeping bags. The cans will be just enough to take the chill off.”

She still looked unconvinced.

“Put your hands around it,” I urged.

“That sounds like a line from a porno,” she deadpanned.

“You’re gross.”

“Oh!” Her eyes lit up. “It's warm! It’s like I’m holding onto a cup of coffee.”

“Just don't get confused and take a drink of it,” I laughed.

“God, I miss coffee,” she sighed.  She kept her hands wrapped around the tin can while I made one for myself.

“Looks like it’s going to be green beans and sliced peaches for dinner tonight,” I said, holding up the second open can.  “Do you have a preference?”

“Green beans, I guess.” Nora sighed and sat down next to me on my sleeping bag. “I don't suppose you have any of your grandma’s beef jerky left?”

“Not worried about the size of your ankles anymore, huh?” I teased.

“I think that was more force of habit than a genuine concern.” Her shoulder pressed into mine as she rested her weight against me. “I was on a diet everyday once I got into middle school. I was a fat kid.  And then I was a fat teenager.”

“I can’t picture you ever being fat.”

“It wasn't pretty,” she snorted as she fished out a few green beans and popped them into her mouth.

“And I can’t imagine you not being pretty.” Damn it.

She made no comment. Maybe she hadn’t heard me or maybe she was one of those girls who ignored compliments. I stared into my can of sliced peaches. They floated in a sugary syrup goo that I’d always hated.

We finished our unfulfilling meal in silence as the sun dipped below the horizon and another day came to an end.  Soon, moonlight floated through the single window of the trailer and our canned candles provided another layer of illumination.  We both wiggled into our respective sleeping bags.  Even though we had the entire trailer to ourselves, I couldn’t help but notice that Nora had set up her sleeping area so that our sleeping bags practically touched.  I tried not to let my brain over-think it and make too big of a deal out of it.

“What’s the most shallow thing you miss from the way things used to be?” Nora asked.

“I don’t know,” I said, not really giving her question meaningful consideration.

“I’m serious,” she prodded.

“I don’t know.  It’s a complicated question.”

“That’s not an answer,” she complained. “Just be human for once.”

I was silent for a moment, thinking.  “I miss the beach,” I said finally. “I miss the feeling of wet sand squishing between my toes. The smell of the water.”

Nora shifted in her sleeping bag and reclined on her side.  “They had beaches in North Dakota?”

“It wasn’t like Florida or anything, but there were a few sandy shorelines near my hometown.”

Nora’s features had taken on a faraway look. “I miss the scent of fresh cut grass.  And I miss laying in an overgrown field of tall grasses and wild flowers and staring up at the sky and looking at the clouds make shapes.”

“That’s a good one,” I approved.

I used to lay for hours on a grassy hill in a nearby park with Andrea.  I remember laying next to her in the summer months, our bare arms just barely touching.  I’d lose track of time and conversation just from that innocent contact.

“I miss that first day on campus in college when spring has shrugged off the winter winds and everyone wears shorts and skirts and flip flops,” she continued. “All that bare flesh exposed to the sun for the first time in months.”

“I wish I’d gone to college,” I said, thinking aloud.

“What would you have majored in?”

“I have no idea.”

“Did you have an occupation in mind?”

“Not really,” I admitted. “I just know I didn’t want to end up like either of my parents.”

“What did they do for a living?”

“My dad worked at a bank and my mom was a school teacher.”

“How very wholesome and middle class,” Nora remarked. I couldn’t tell of she was teasing me; her face was too serious to tell what she was really thinking.

“You said I was pretty.” Okay, so she had heard me earlier after all.

I cleared my throat uncomfortably. “I have eyes, don’t I?”

Our small homemade lamps reflected against her strawberry blonde hair, making her natural highlights look even more red than usual.  Her pale pink tongue appeared between two lips and slowly made its way along the length of her lower lip.  I found myself fixed to the spot and unable to look away.

“You know, you can kiss me if you want.”

I snapped out of my daze and recoiled. “Someone’s full of themselves.”

She shrugged, nonplussed.  “You just had this look in your eyes.”

“Sorry, but I’m not that desperate,” I snorted defensively, immediately hating myself for the cruel words.

She cocked her head to regard me carefully. She didn’t look offended.  “Did you have boyfriends in high school?”

“I wasn’t allowed to date,” I told her truthfully.

“Were you in some kind of religious cult?”

“No.” The idea made me chuckle.  My family was about the most irreligious family I knew in Williston. “My parents just wanted me to wait until college.”

I hadn’t been allowed to date in high school, but that honestly hadn’t bothered me.  None of the boys had interested me and the girls just scared the hell out of me.

Nora seemed to wiggle closer if that was even possible.  I knew I should move back a bit to put more space between us, but I didn’t want to lose this game of chicken.  I was naturally competitive and she seemed to bring out the best (worst?) in me.

“So have you ever kissed anyone before?”

I found myself self-consciously licking my lips.  Her eyes darted to where the tip of my tongue darted out.  I swear I saw her nostrils flare, but I couldn’t be sure in the dim light.  “Reggie McFarland.” I said the first, safe name that came to my head.  “Junior Prom.”

Reggie was a nice guy whom I’d know since preschool.  I had no intention of going to Prom, but at my mother’s urging I’d said yes. Reggie had held my hand the entire night.  I could still remember how sweaty his hands had been.  When Prom ended a group of us had gone to a friend’s family cabin. Most couples had used it as an opportunity to split off from the group to different respective rooms. Reggie had been bold enough to suggest we do the same, but I’d asked him to take me home as soon as I’d seen Andrea go off with her date, some guy on the football team who I knew wasn’t smart enough or kind enough or cute enough for her.  After Prom I stopped pretending. I knew I was gay and there was no use putting on a show for everyone else.

“So you don’t like girls?”  The look she gave me was challenging, daring me to tell her she was wrong about me.

“Why are you doing this?” I asked.  My voice wavered of its own fruition.

“Doing what?” Her aquamarine eyes blinked back at me.

“Go to sleep, Nora.”

“I’m just making conversation.”

“You’re just making trouble,” I growled, my voice harder than I wanted it to be.  “We need to sleep.  Tomorrow will be a long day.  Everyday is a long day,” I unnecessarily reminded her.

She made a huffing noise and promptly spun away from me. I thought about rolling away, but I knew the extra body heat would do us both good. When she wiggled backwards and pressed the roundness of her backside into my pelvic area, however, I second-guessed sticking around.

“Night,” she clipped.

I punched at my makeshift pillow.  The zippers on the backpack were digging into my head.  “Night.”

+++++

CHAPTER TWELVE

The next morning, I changed our strategy.  Up until this point, we’d been following the sun and going west.  It was a safe plan – conservative – but there was no guarantee that we’d ever find a town that way.

“We have to follow a road,” I announced when we’d finished our breakfast of snow and a can of fruit cocktail divided between us.

Nora raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t that breaking one of your dad’s rules?”

“Spending the night here was breaking one of his rules, too,” I pointed out. “We don’t really have a choice.” I had actually slept pretty soundly compared to our night in the cave, a mixture of discomfort from the solid rock floor but also the disequilibrium of being without my father.

The longer we were on our own, the more I began to appreciate that rules were ineffective. When it came to survival, sometimes you had to throw out even the most well-intended yet prudent guidelines.

The closest town, Plains, Montana, was 5 miles away according to a green marker we found after walking on County Highway 28 for a few hundred yards.  The road wasn’t going to bring us east, just a little south and west, so I felt better about our plan. At least we weren’t going to have to backtrack and waste a day of travel.  Now I just had to hope that Plains was big enough to have a gas station with a convenience store so we could find a road map and hopefully some more supplies.  Dr. Allyse had mentioned it as being the closest town with a hospital, so I thought our chances were good.  It was too much to hope, however, that we’d find another tent at this point, but maybe we could at least find a tarp or something we could turn into a makeshift emergency shelter.

We traveled in silence until we made it to the tiny town of Plains, Montana, population 1,048.  As we tromped into the town center, I hoped the current population was zero.  We didn’t find a roadside gas station, but we did find a U.S. Forest Service Ranger Station, which was like a big camp store.  The Station was ransacked, picked clean of anything that looked remotely usable.  The map section was picked over, too, but I spotted a larger map book and flipped it open to the Idaho page.

“So where are we going?” I asked Nora.

She bit on her lip and lowered her eyes to the page.  “This isn’t the map my father had.”

“It’s just made by a different company,” I said, keeping the annoyance out of my tone.  “The towns and roads are all the same, trust me.”

She flicked her expressive eyes toward me. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Take your time,” I said.  My voice lowered of its own volition, to something that remotely sounded compassionate and encouraging.  It sounded foreign to my ears.

“I can’t figure this out with you breathing down my neck, Sam.”

I nodded. “I’ll go explore a little bit – see if there’s not some things we can make use of here.”

I grabbed a candy bar and ripped it from its wrapper.  Nora curled her lip and winkled her nose.  I ignored her disgust and bit off a mouthful of chocolate and peanut better.  “What are you gonna do when all the healthy food is gone?” I posed to her.

In truth I would have killed for an apple.  Who knew when and if I’d ever get fresh fruit again. “You suppose they have apples in Eden?” I asked.

“I don’t know.” She gave me a goofy, playful grin. “Just don’t eat from the Tree of Knowledge if a snake starts talking to you.”

“Cute.  Real cute,” I deadpanned.

I stuffed as many food items that would fit into my pack.  I thought about throwing away the bottle of moonshine Ryan had given me to make more room in my bag, but I eventually decided to hold onto it a little longer.  I even found a pair of sunglasses that didn’t look too horrible on me.

I set a few food cans next to where Nora sat. “Fit as much of this into your pack,” I told her.

She looked up long enough from the map to see what I’d set beside her. “You really think we’ll need sloppy joe sauce?”

“Hey, you never know.  It might be good with squirrel.”

Nora wrinkled her nose. “God, I really have changed. I actually want to try that.”

When she saw the meat stick in my hand, she arched an eyebrow at me.  “You eat a lot.”

“I’m a growing girl,” I said around the mouthful of dried meat.  “You should eat more, too.  We need calories.”

Nora sighed. “Packing on the calories. Yup, I really have changed.”

I squatted beside her, peering at the map she had unfolded on the floor. “Any luck?” I didn’t want to frazzle her by being overly anxious, but the longer we stayed in this Ranger Station, the more likely it was that we’d run into bandits.

“I think so.”  She patted the space beside her, so I sat down Indian-style. “Our goal is to get to Idaho.  Eden is located somewhere on this little peninsula over here,” she said, pointing to a spot on the map. “But we’ve got a pesky mountain range in the way.  I don’t know about you,” she commented, “but I’d rather avoid the Rocky Mountains if we can help it.”

I nodded.  Her words made sense.  I had been both dreading and looking forward to seeing the mountains up close.  North Dakota was just about the flattest place on Earth besides the Badlands.  But if we could get to Eden without having to climb a mountain, I was all for that strategy.

She traced her pointer finger along a topographical map.  “That giant mountain to the north seems to be Baldy Mountain.  If we take a slight southwestern detour, we can miss it entirely.”  She tapped her finger on what looked like a major highway.  “Highway 200 will take us to Eden. It follows this river which seems to cut right through the mountains.  It’s probably a little elevated, but if we stick to this route, we’ll avoid any serious climbing.”

I studied the map.  “We should stay away from highways for any long stretches, though,” I countered.  “We’re more likely to run into bandits.”

“Then we’ll follow the river instead of walking on the highway itself,” Nora said. “Which would you rather face, Sam? The uncertainty of running into bandits or the certainty that the Rocky Mountains are going to slow us down?”

I chewed on my bottom lip. “How far away is Eden from here?”

“A hundred miles.  We’re close,” she encouraged.

Following a river and a major highway through the Rocky Mountains seemed to be exactly the kind of thing my father would have avoided.  Chances are, if he had gotten safely away from Hot Springs, he would be taking an alternate route to Eden.  But between the choice of 100 miles of rock climbing and 100 miles of level terrain, the latter certainly sounded more appealing.

“Okay,” I hesitatingly agreed. “We’ll go your way.” As to signal the finality of our decision, I folded up the road map and tucked it into the front zipper of my pack.

“Why do you get to hold onto the map?” Nora complained.

I sighed and rolled my eyes, but I kept the unnecessary and probably mean comments to myself.  Instead I plucked another road map from its kiosk and thrust it in her direction. “Here,” I said, shaking the map a little until she took it from me. “Now we each have one in case we get split up.”

My words gave her pause. “Do you think that might happen?”

I pulled on my pack, feeling its familiar weight on my back.  It was heavier than before, now filled with extra food. “I don't know. But I guess we’d better be prepared in case it does.”

+++++

If I had thought finding a map and formulating a plan signaled the moment when life got easier, I was terribly wrong.  It reminded me of that saying: Man plans, God laughs.  A few hours after we’d left Plains, Montana and the Forest Ranger Station, the wind picked up and we found ourselves in the middle of a blizzard.  We couldn’t stop though.  We still hadn’t found a tent.  I just had to keep moving.  As long as I was churning my legs, I’d be alright.

“Sam,” Nora’s voice cut through the wind.  “Sam, we have to stop.  This isn’t smart.”

“Just a little bit further,” I yelled back.

I squinted my eyes into the wind.  I could hardly see what was in front of me and I had no idea if my compass still worked at these arctic temperatures.  I couldn’t remember seeing anything that could serve as shelter in the past ten minutes either.  We’d just have to keep pushing on.  There had to be something.  Even a large tree trunk would be better than stopping right now with nothing but our bodies to break the wind.

I heard a soft cry and turned just in time to see Nora drop to her knees.  I turned back, lifting my feet high to save the wear on my shins.  I grabbed her around the waist and with my help she was able to get back to her feet.  I was vaguely aware that she’d helped me similarly just a few days ago when I’d twisted my ankle.  Hot Springs felt like a lifetime ago.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

Her head drooped forward.  “I’m just so tired of this.  Why does it have to be so hard?  When are things going to get easier?”

“Come on.  Just a little more,” I urged. “We’ve got to find someplace to stay the night.”

We stayed like that, my arm around her, the two of us huddled together against the wind, not stopping the movement of our legs, until we came to a valley. There wasn’t much that broke up the landscape beyond just acres and acres of snow-covered fields. But nestled in the heart of the valley was a tiny structure.

“What is that?” Nora asked. I could feel her lean against me even more to peer down on the valley. “Is that a house?”

I squinted my eyes. The blizzard gave us limited visibility and made strange shadows and shapes below.  It was a little like looking down at an oasis in a barren desert. “No, that doesn’t look that much bigger than a shack,” I said.

“I think it’s a house,” Nora decided. “Let's go check it out.”

Before should she launch herself down the hill and go bounding into the valley, I stopped her.

“We have to be more careful,” I admonished. If there was someone down there they’d easily be able to pick us off as we tumbled down the hill.

“There’s no smoke,” she pointed out. “If there were people living down there, we’d be able to see it.”

I still hesitated. That moment you realize you’re just like your parents is horrifying.  I used to hate my dad’s careful, overly protective nature.  Now I was finding out that he and I were the same person.

“There might be something down there we can use, even if it’s just a shack.  A tarp or something.  We wouldn’t have to find another cave.”

“That’s a good point.”

“I’ve been known to have a few good ideas in my day,” she replied drolly.

I couldn’t give her a good reason why we shouldn’t investigate besides my own fear.  She had proven time and again that she would continue to thumb her nose at whatever obstacles life threw at her.

I sighed heavily. “Fine,” I conceded despite my misgivings. “But let’s not go charging down there like we’re a two-woman avalanche.  I think we should wait until the sun starts to go down. That way if anyone is staying down there, they won’t be able to see us coming.”

“If we wait until dusk, we won’t be able to see them either,” she pointed out.

I made a frustrated noise. It was a gamble. I hated not having a pragmatic option. But we were beyond that now. The time for pragmatism had probably vanished the moment Apophis exploded in the atmosphere.

“I’m going down there right now,” Nora declared. “Playing it safe never did anybody any favors.”

Without waiting for me or my permission, Nora charged down the hill.  It was a steep incline and I was sure that with the velocity with which she’d launched herself off our lookout spot that she’d tumble face forward all the way down.  But even in snowpants and cumbersome boots, she still managed to be graceful.

I shook my head. This wasn’t smart. But it would be less smart if we separated and I let her go down there by herself.  I trudged down the rolling hill to follow Nora.

“Wait up,” I panted behind her.

“Look,” she said, pointing at the snowy ground. “No foot prints.”

“They could have swept them away like I did with the cave.”

Nora shook her head. “Not possible. No one’s as cautious as you are.”

The closer we got, the larger the structure became. I had been right – it was too small to be a house. But it also wasn’t a shack.  It turned out to be a charming cottage.

Nora stopped just before the steps leading up to a small covered porch.

“Come on,” I urged. I was actually getting excited we might find some supplies we could use on the rest of the trip.

“I’m starting to second-guess myself,” she said, turning to look at me.  “What kind of person would live all the way out here by themselves?  We haven’t seen any houses since the Ranger Station.”

“So there’s probably some hillbilly cannibal living inside,” I pronounced.

“Yup.”

I shook my head and tried the door handle.  It was unlocked.  I turned the knob slowly, satisfied that it twisted noiselessly.

“Well this looks cozy,” Nora mumbled from behind me.  She dropped her backpack on the well-worn wooden floor.

I walked into the center of the open-plan cabin.  In the far corner sat a well-loved futon frame covered with a thin black mattress.  Mismatched throw pillows covered the cushioning and a crocheted blanket laid across the back of the seating. Along the opposite wall was a small wood-burning stove, sitting on top of a brick hearth.  A tiny set of pine cupboards adorned another wall, flanked by a foldable table and chair set, large enough for two. A thin, thread-barren space rug struggled to cover the center of the room, barely covering the smooth, wooden planks beneath. It looked like someone’s hunting or fishing cabin rather than a permanent residence.

The sun was dipping lower in the horizon and rather than taking the time to make sure we were truly alone in the tiny house, I mechanically walked to the potbellied stove to assemble what we needed for a fire.  Stacked next to the woodstove was a tight bundle of long-burning hardwood and the kindling I’d need.

The potbelly stove fought off the dank chill of the empty cottage. It was small and sturdily build and it didn’t take long until I started to feel warm with my jacket on.  Nora must have been feeling the heat too because she’d soon shed her boots, coat, and snowpants.  She hung her winter clothes over the back of one of the two chairs situated at a small square table.  She placed her boots and socks by the wood-burning stove so they could dry out.

She combed her fingers through her hair which had been trapped beneath her ski cap.  Beneath her jacket and snowpants she wore a light thermal long-sleeved shirt and skintight but breathable pants.  She’d lost weight since my family first found hers, but she still had the slight womanly padding in her backside and thighs.

“Why don’t you take off your coat and stay awhile?” she lightly teased.

“Oh. Right.” I had been caught up in my own little world watching her get comfortable.  I dropped my gaze to the front of my jacket and busied myself with zippers and fastens. “Um, I’m just gonna do a quick sweep around the perimeter to make sure there’s nobody hiding out there.”

“Is that really a safe thing to do alone?”

It wasn’t and we both knew it, but it felt infinitely safer than being alone in this cozy space with her.  I needed a moment to clear my head.

+++++

The wind that had been brutal just moments ago was subdued down here in the heart of the valley.  I did a quick circle around the log cabin.  Except for the cottage and skinny trees that sparsely populated the surrounding area, there was nothing else in the sunny valley.  I had hoped that maybe there would have been a shed behind the house, extra space where supplies might have been stored.  I snapped a low-hanging branch from a nearby tree and used the fanned out twigs to wipe clean the tracks I had just made along with our footprints that led to the front door.

I re-entered the cottage a few moments later.  Even though I was desperate to put some space between us, I didn't want Nora to worry that something had happened to me.  I was met with a warm, dry blast of air.  The woodstove was really starting to kick off some heat. I stomped my feet on the welcome mat to knock the snow from my boots.

I didn't see Nora when I came back in and it made me worried. The open-floor plan of the first floor left little space where she could be hiding.

“Nora?” I called out.

“Upstairs!” she responded.

I let myself relax upon hearing her voice.  I quickly shed my boots, jacket, and snowpants, checked to make sure there was enough wood stacked in the woodstove, and climbed the stairs to the loft above.

The lofted space was a little larger than my childhood bedroom.  It was large enough for a double bed, a rocking chair in one corner, and a stand-alone bookshelf.  Nora was sitting on the bed with my backpack beside her.  The contents of my pack were scattered across the patterned quilt.

“What are you doing?” I demanded.

Nora’s head snapped up.  I’m sure she could hear the ice in my tone. “I was unpacking your backpack.”

I stormed across the length of the room and snatched my near-empty pack away from her.  “I never asked you to do that.”

Rather than wither under my defensive attitude, Nora’s posture became rigid and her chin elevated.  “I know you didn’t.  I don’t know about you, but I feel more human when I’m not living out of a canvas bag.  I put my things on that bookshelf.  I was waiting to see where you wanted yours.”

I held my pack in front of me like a protective shield.  “I’m sorry,” I said, the words not really reflecting my attitude.  “I just don’t like people rummaging through my things.”

Nora’s voice lifted an octave.  “I wasn’t –.”  She cut herself off and pressed her lips together.  She shook her head, apparently deciding it wasn’t worth it to keep arguing over things of little importance.  This should have been trivial.  I felt foolish and childish for blowing up such a mundane thing.

I scanned over my meager belongings that Nora had laid out on the bed.  I picked up one of the photographs I’d brought with me.   Without a protective album, the corners had become slightly worn and creased.

“Is that your mom?” Nora asked.

I nodded.

“You look nothing like her,” she observed.

“I know.”  It had always been a corny family joke that if my mom hadn’t been present at my birth I might actually have been someone else’s kid.

Before I could stop her, Nora picked up the other photograph, the one of Andrea and me.  “Who’s this?”

“Just a girl.”

“Just a girl that you’ve been carrying with you across half the country.” Her eyebrows lifted.  It was clear she didn’t believe a word I said.

“We were friends,” I said, determined not to reveal too much.

“Oh, Sammy.” Nora’s voice dripped with regret and sympathy.

“What?” I demanded, feeling instantly self-conscious.

“She broke your heart, didn’t she?”

“She – no. No. It was nothing like that,” I protested.

Nora gave me a long, hard look. “Are you sure?”

Finally, I released a resigned sigh. “She didn’t break my heart; she ripped it from my chest and twisted it until it tore in half. Are you happy? Is that what you wanted to hear?”

Nora didn’t say a word.  She simply stood up, tilted her head to one side, and pressed her lips solidly against mine.

I pulled back abruptly. “What was that?” I snarled. “Pity?”

Nora bit down on her bottom lip. “No.”

She kissed me again and this time I didn’t have the willpower to pull away.

She slid her tongue along my full bottom lip, pulling a quiet sigh unbidden from my mouth. I pulled away from the mouth that I knew would be my downfall.   I was out of breath.  “We should-we should stop.”  Stopping was the last thing I wanted to do. “We can't do this.”  I didn’t know what I was saying.  I didn’t know why we couldn’t.  But I did know there was no way this girl was actually choosing me.  I didn’t want to be pitied.

“Please, Sam,” she croaked. “I need this.”

I pulled back and inspected her features.  Her bright aqua eyes bore into me.  Her face, neck, and collarbone looked flushed.

“Why?”

“Because there’s a fucking hole in my heart,” she choked out, “and I need to feel something that’s not ugly or cruel.”

I sucked in a deep breath.  I was suddenly back in high school and the girl of my dreams wanted to be with me, if only for the night.

“I don’t know if we should,” I hesitated again.

“It’s not like it’s going to cause an apocalypse,” Nora assured me.  “I’m pretty sure Apophis already took care of that for us.”

We stared at each other for a moment before Nora subtly leaned forward and into my personal bubble again.  I leaned forward as well, but I was determined to keep my feet firmly planted on the ground.  Nora closed her intense, penetrating eyes and I followed suit as we continued to lean forward. Her breath felt warm on my face as we narrowed the space between our lips.  Her nose slid along the side of mine as our mouths inched together.

I softly pressed my lips against Nora’s warm, inviting mouth. A low growl rumbled out of her throat when I dug my nails into her arms, unthinking.  My own aggressiveness surprised me, but there was also desperation and sorrow lingering in the air.

This time, Nora as the one to pull away first. “See?” she slightly panted. “That wasn’t so bad. And the world didn’t blow or up anything.”

“N-no,” I stuttered. “Not bad at all.” Although Nora had ended the kiss, I wasn’t ready to lean away from her mouth just yet.  It was as if she had magnets in her plump lips and my mouth possessed the opposite charge.

Nora looked down, and her face revealed her surprise when my hand fell on her knee.  Encouraged by her lack of Running Away, I slid my palms along her upper thighs and up her tiny waist, lingering at the hem of her light thermal top. The bandage on my palm, the one she had made for me when I’d cut my hand, caught and rolled.  I was acutely aware of how I needed to see more of her and how much I wanted my mouth on her.  In my frustration I tore the bandage away.

Nora looked at me, puzzled by my actions.

“I just want to feel you,” I explained. “I don’t want anything between us.”

“Not even a Band-Aid?” she lightly teased.

The answer was obvious enough so I didn’t waste time with a reply.  Instead, I pressed my mouth against hers once again, darting my tongue into her mouth. She moaned throatily, a kind of approving hum.

I slid my hand under her light thermal top and beneath the elastic band of a sports bra.  There’d be no sexy lingerie tonight.  It was a little disappointing because she had a body built for lace.  I’d have to save that imagery for my daydreams.  I couldn’t justify making a Victoria’s Secret run on our way to Eden.

I cupped the slight swell of her breast in my palm and gently squeezed.  I raked my fingernails down her breast, making sure to let my short nails scrape against a rapidly hardening nipple. I tugged at the bottom hem of her shirt. “Need this off,” I grunted like some sort of Neanderthal.

She immediately reached for the lower hem and pulled her shirt off.  I didn’t allow her the moment to feel self-conscious about her partial nakedness.  I grabbed the straps of her racer-back bra and yanked them down her pale shoulders until her breasts fell free of the restrictive material.  I immediately dove for a nipple, tonguing and nipping at it with my teeth.  Her fingers snaked to the back of my head and she pressed me more firmly against her chest.  I ran my palms flat against the smooth planes of her back. Her skin was impossibly soft.

When my fingers curled beneath the waistband of her spandex pants, her hands fell on top of mine, stilling the motion.  I looked up questioningly, confused as to why she wanted me to stop.

Her eyes, large and unblinking, studied me.  “Have you…done this before? With a girl?” she clarified.  I could practically see her self-confidence fading in front of me.  The way she shamelessly flirted and tempted me had had me under the impression that she was a pro.

I sat up slightly, but kept my fingertips just under the elastic band of her pants.  I could feel the soft swell of her stomach and the heat of her skin.  “Just once,” I admitted. “Have you?”

Her gaze cast to the side.  “No.  Not-not this far,” she admitted.

I started to pull my hands away from her waist.  Her eyes widened, looking almost panicked. She firmly held my wrists, pinning my hands against her.  “But I want to,” she breathed.

I didn’t want to draw out this conversation and figure out labels and sexual identities.  I had never labeled my own sexuality, so I didn’t expect her to either.  Besides, I wasn’t going to fool myself.  This wasn’t about love or romance or a burgeoning relationship.  This was about convenience and the need to distract ourselves from loss and life.

I tightened my grip on her pants and began to shimmy them down her slight hips.  She lifted her backside from the bed to help.  I pulled her pants down her slender legs, past trembling knees and ankles, and down over her feet.

She grabbed fistfuls of my shirt and yanked me back up to her face.  “You don’t have to…you know…”

“Eat you out?” I posed with a small smirk.  She was so bossy and controlling all of the time.  It was more than nice to be able to take some of that control back.

Her eyes darted to the side.  “It’s just that I haven’t gotten to shave since we left Hot Springs,” she lamented.

I reached between our bodies so I could trail my fingertips over her naked sex.  My fingers were met with nothing more than a soft peach fuzz, sparse and fine.  I ran a single digit along her outer folds and she let out a soft sigh.  She arched into my touch, but continued to hold her body rigid, clearly anxious that she wasn’t impeccably groomed.

“I want to taste you, Nora,” I encouraged.  I made eye contact while I continued to stroke my fingertips along her soft, swollen lips.  Her legs twitched beneath me when I swiped the pad of my thumb over her clit.  Her breathing had become uneven, short little gasps every time my thumb made contact with her clit.

I wanted to say more.  I wanted to tell her how long I’d wanted to touch her like this, but I kept my confessions to a minimum.  I didn’t need to give her any ammunition to use against me at a later time.  I worried that if I shared too much of myself that she’d throw it back in my face at the next available opportunity.

When I pushed my middle finger inside her, her hips jerked upward to meet me.  Her legs spread wider for me and a small groan escaped her mouth when that single digit turned into two. She writhed on top of the mattress as I sank deep into her.  She reached for me and pulled me up to her so she could kiss me while I continued to slide in and out of her in solid, rhythmic thrusts.

She tilted her head back and made a guttural noise, so I took the opportunity to drop my head to one of her bare breasts and take a pert nipple between my teeth.  Her fingers thread through my hair, pulling me at the roots.  She pulled me back up to her mouth and gasped into my mouth, trying to kiss me, but unable to without making those sexy little noises.

I could hear the sound of her sex click with every thrust. Her face was beautiful, frozen in a half smile, half moan the entire time.  She rocked against me.

Her breaths came in shorter pants now – sharp, punctuated breaths followed by small mewls.  She tightened around me and even in my inexperience, I knew she was close.  She made a noise like a mix between a swallow and a pant and sat straight up in bed.  “Oh my God,” she managed to gurgle out as her sex squeezed around my fingers.

She pushed me back on the bed, forceful but not rough. “Your turn,” she panted.

The mattress creaked noisily as we shifted positions and my clothes joined hers on the floor. She raked her nails down my stomach, and I couldn’t help the embarrassing moan that leapt from my throat.  My body arched off the mattress and she looked pleased with herself.

“I’ve been thinking about your abs since we took that first shower at Hot Springs,” she told me with heavily lidded eyes.  “Who knew you were hiding this tight body beneath all those layers?”

I had always kept myself pretty fit in high school playing team sports, but my body had only hardened to this extent because of the desperate situation in which we were.  Malnourishment and daily treks through snowy forests had transformed my body so it was nearly unrecognizable to myself.  When we’d showered, I’d been uncomfortable, feeling emaciated and unfeminine while she looked soft and sweet in all the right places.  Knowing that she actually liked the flat plane of my stomach and the tightened curve of my lean biceps, however, emboldened me.

As Nora’s lips expertly moved against mine, I couldn’t help comparing kissing her with kissing Andrea.  For one, Nora’s mouth felt more assured than Andrea’s, as if she knew what she wanted and knew she possessed a talent for it.  There was a natural confidence and ease that radiated off of Nora, even if she couldn’t start a fire, and it seemed to spill over into the realm of kissing as well. I had certainly enjoyed kissing my best friend, but thinking now about our awkward coupling was enough to make me blush.

Nora left my mouth and traveled further south down my naked body. Her fingers dug into my hipbones.  She rubbed her hand flat against me, separating my lips so she could concentrate on my clit. She held tight onto my hips and licked hard against the spot where my tattoo was. Ever since I'd gotten it, that spot had been extremely sensitive.  My hips bucked, but she only held me tighter.  She sucked on my clit and I saw stars.  I practically sobbed when her finger swirled around my entrance and pressed inside to the second knuckle.

God. I had no idea it could be like this.  Andrea hadn’t done that with her fingers, and she certainly hadn’t done that with her tongue.

I heard Nora clear her throat. “Who’s Andrea, and why do I suddenly feel jealous?”

Oh God, no.  Did I actually say that out loud?

I slowly opened just one eye. Nora was positioned between my thighs looking slightly amused.

“Is she the girl in the photo?”

I nodded after a moment of hesitation. I didn’t want to talk about Andrea, especially not with Nora.

“Was she your girlfriend?”

I shook my head no.

“But you wanted her to be.”

I sighed and nodded again.

Nora pulled herself up and wrapped a sheet around her torso. I wanted to tell her not to stop.  I wanted to tell her how close I had been, but I knew that I’d ruined the moment by saying another girl’s name.  I was pretty sure I’d broken the cardinal rule of lesbian sex.

“Spill it, Sammy.”

I bit my bottom lip. “I’m sorry I did that.”

“Don't worry about it. You’re not the first person I’ve been with who’s said someone else’s name,” she said flippantly, “and I’m sure you won’t be the last.” She paused, sobering. “Actually, you might be the last. Who knows how many other bi-curious girls are still alive.”

“I'm not...” I shook my head, trying to collect my thoughts. “I don’t think of you as a replacement. You’re nothing like her.”

“Remember that I don’t know anything about this girl, so I don’t know if I should be offended or charmed,” she deadpanned.

“Neither. It’s just a fact. You’re different.”

Nora and Andrea weren’t exact opposites, but I struggled to find anything – besides that they were both beautiful – that they had in common.  Even in their beauty they were different. They had similar builds, but Andrea was a little taller and leaner and Nora was proportioned in ways that no one would mistake her for a boy. Andrea was tan skinned with dark eyes and even darker hair.  Nora's pale complexion rivaled even mine with glossy strawberry-blonde hair that I longed to run my fingers through again.

Nora flopped onto her back and stared at the ceiling.  She released a loud sigh. “So now what?”

My brow creased.  “I don't know.  Are we, um, done?”

She rolled over and regarded me.  The sheet had slipped from the movement and I forced myself to stare at her face and not the rosy caps of her nipples. “You screamed another girl’s name, Sammy.” As if I could have forgotten.

I felt my cheeks redden. “I didn’t scream,” I lamely protested.

She wet her lips. Her gaze never broke away from mine. “You’re right.  Challenge accepted.”

She pounced on me.

+++++

CHAPTER THirteen

I was having a dream. It was the kind of dream where you know you’re dreaming, but the dream-world is so much nicer than reality that you don’t want to wake up.  The sound of the ocean crashing onto the sandy shore reverberated in my ears and when I opened my eyes, I was forced to squint and hold my hand over my eyes to block out the glaringly bright sun.  I sat up on my elbows and languidly took in my tropical surroundings.

I was sitting on a sandy shoreline, feeling muddy sand squish between my bare toes.  I wiggled my toes freely and felt the dirty grit of the beach.  Rolling waves, not quite whitecaps, dotted the horizon. They traveled closer to shore where they tapered off and licked at the tips of my toes.  Even the water was warm, not the surprising chill of most of the bodies of water I was used to.

I watched a small hermit crab scuttle across the sand.  Its detached eyeballs seemed to dart around nervously, cautiously taking in its surroundings and staying alert for potential enemies. The small creature’s claws worked busily and efficiently as it rummaged through the bits of rock and sand, scrounging for food.

When my eyes finally fluttered open, it took me a moment to remember where I was.  I turned my head on my pillow to find Nora staring back at me.  I gave a start, not expecting her aqua eyes to be the first thing I saw in the morning.  Although I have to admit, I wasn’t mad about it.

Rather than averting her gaze in embarrassment or offering up some explanation for why she’d been watching me while I slept, her grin widened. “Good morning,” she greeted.   She stayed in the same position, lying propped up on her side with her head resting in her hand.

I cleared my throat and ran my hand over my face.  “Morning.”  My voice sounded raw.

“Sleep well?”

“Uh huh,” I confirmed.  “A little too well.”  I sat up and swung my legs over the edge of the mattress, intending to get out of bed.  I wasn’t sure what to say or do now that it was the morning after.  She’d said she didn’t want things to change between us, so I assumed that meant I shouldn’t cuddle with her, breathing in the scent of her shampoo.  Not that I wanted to do that.

The top comforter slipped off my body as I sat up. I’d nearly forgotten I’d fallen asleep naked.  With a fire blazing in the nearby woodstove and Nora’s body heat to compliment my own, I hadn’t bothered to put on any clothes after we’d exhausted ourselves.  Now though, the fire should have long extinguished itself. I should be feeling the bite of the early morning cold, but instead I was still warm.   I twisted just my waist to look back at Nora.

“Did you make a fire this morning?”

Her grin was so wide and her dimples so deep I was worried the rest of her face was going to fall into those dimples.  I imagined an avalanche where her nose and eyebrows and lips would just slip into those twin craters.

“When I woke up earlier, the fire had gone out,” she explained. “You’d left all the fire-starter things out, so I thought I’d try.  I figured worse case scenario, I’d burn down the house. But at least we’d be warm.”

“You did it, Nora,” I breathed reverently.  I momentarily forgot my nakedness and turned around to fully face her. “And you even remembered to open the flue so the room didn’t fill with smoke.” I didn’t know how many times even my dad had problems with that.

She pursed her lips, which made her look a little like a duck, and shrugged her thin shoulders. “I paid attention.  I noticed all the little things you did to make the perfect fire last night.” Her eyes dipped a few inches and her top teeth bit into her full, bottom lip. “I've also noticed that you’re missing your shirt.”

My eyes dropped down to my chest area as well. Yep. No shirt. They were okay breasts, I suppose as far as those things went. I usually had them bound tight beneath a sports bra though and with the temperature drop I didn’t anticipate being in a bikini all that often.

I was a tomboy growing up. I played Little League instead of softball, Peewee Football instead of gymnastics or ballet.  I’m sure my dad loved it when I even took an interest in helping fix up his old Cadillac.  To say that he’d been disappointed I was born a girl would have been unfair to him. I knew he loved me. But I also knew he had always wanted a son.  So when I hit puberty and all the boys on my sports teams could run a little faster and hit a little harder, and I grew out of my training bra, I stopped playing “boy” sports.  Since then, my breasts had just been a reminder that I wasn’t exactly who my father wanted me to be.  Being gay had never been part of the equation either.

I didn’t know if I liked the way she was looking at me. It was different last night because it had been dark with only the fire in the woodstove and the moonlight lighting our way. Now, under the unforgiving light of morning, I felt vulnerable beneath her scrutinizing gaze.

I turned away from her and started to look for the clothes I knew were somewhere on the floor. “We should probably get going.”

Daylight was limited, making early starts necessary. We still had many miles to travel before we made it to Eden.  We needed to find a sports or a camping store and find a new tent since we’d been separated from our old ones at Hot Springs.  Luck had found us this cabin last night, and I wasn’t going to continue to roll the dice.  If we didn’t find dependable shelter, we’d never survive.

“What if we stayed?”

“Huh?”

“You can’t deny it feels pretty fantastic waking up in an actual bed.”

It had been nice.  And having Nora sleep next to me had made it even nicer.  I wasn’t about to voice that though.

“I think we could be happy here, Sam,” she said haltingly.  “It’s cozy.  It’s comfortable.  Maybe we don’t need to risk our lives trying to find Eden.  Maybe we’ve got everything we need here.  You could hunt, and I could…well, I could find some way to be useful.”  She licked her lips.  “I know I’m at least good at making you feel good.”

I cleared my throat and looked away.  That wasn’t an exaggeration.  My limbs still ached in the most delicious way.  Even though we hadn’t left the cabin, my muscles felt like I’d been tromping through high snowdrifts all day long, and I didn’t even care.

“I don’t want you to take this the wrong way,” I prefaced, “but if there’s a chance that my dad could still be alive, I have to go to Eden.  I have to know, Nora. I’d never be able to live with myself not knowing.”

Her shoulders drooped, but she sighed and nodded.  “I know.  I get it.  I guess I’d feel the same way about my own dad.”

I worried my lower lip.  I hated to see her so let down and know that I was the reason for it.  “Let’s stay one more night,” I offered. “Then in the morning we’ll get back on the road and back on our way to Eden.”

When she squealed and clapped her hands in happiness I knew I was in trouble.

“I’m gonna check out the surrounding area – see what hunting I can do.”

“I’ll check out the inside and see if there’s anything left to eat or some tools that might be useful,” Nora said, smiling.

It was the first genuinely happy look I’d seen on her face since we’d escaped from Hot Springs.  It seemed to make her face come alive.  I wanted to kiss her.  I wanted to reach for her and hold her and tell her that maybe things were going to be okay from now on.  But I was unsure what last night meant, if anything, and I wasn’t willing to put myself out there if she didn’t feel the same.  Instead, I clasped her hand in mine and squeezed.

+++++

In the light of day I felt braver exploring and digging around the cottage for anything that might help us along the way.  I wanted to catch something like a caveman would, showing off for his mate, but I knew there was little chance I’d have a successful hunt before Nora came looking for me.  The best I could do was set a few traps and hope that I’d catch something before dinner.

I hadn’t felt so nervous around a girl since Andrea.  And once I'd admitted my attraction to her there was little I could do to stop it or even keep it out of my thoughts.  I tried to push it off as the desire to distract myself from our dire circumstances, but that couldn’t account for how I’d only really started appreciating her when we were at Hot Springs and I’d begun to believe that we may actually outlast the Frost.

When I came back inside after setting a few animal traps in close proximity to the cottage, I found Nora reclined on the first floor couch.  In her hands was a large book that looked like a photo album.

“You're the nosiest person alive,” I remarked, pulling off my boots.

She didn’t look up. “I’m just curious about who used to live here.”

I flopped down next to her on the worn couch. “Was it the Unabomber?” I guessed. “Inbred cannibal hillbillies?”

She turned the page of the photo album and it made a plastic crinkling noise. “Nope. Just a regular family. Mom, Dad, and two kids. A boy and a girl.  I think this was their family cabin or something.”

I straightened from my relaxed position so I could see what she was looking at.  The smiling faces of a family of four grinned up at us from the scrapbook.

“Where do you think they are now?” Nora said in a voice no louder than a whisper. “Do you think they’re still alive?”

I closed the album and took it from her hands.  When she leaned her head against my shoulder and released the saddest sigh in the history of sighs, I rubbed my palm in small circles against her back. She seemed to be leaning all her weight against me, but I didn’t mind. I could be strong for her.

She lifted her head from my shoulder and looked into my eyes. Her own were a vibrant blue, but a little red around the edges. Her palm skated along the definition of my jaw line and she regarded me seriously.  She rhythmically stroked my cheek.

“So last night was, um...”

Nora dropped her hand from my face.  I seemed to have a singular talent for opening my mouth at the wrong time.  She stared expectantly at me, but I couldn’t finish the sentence.

“Fun? Earth-moving? Transformative? The best orgasm of your life?” she supplied for me.

“I was going to say ‘unexpected,’ but yeah, those all work, too.” My cheeks were burning and I looked away.

“How was it unexpected?” Nora pressed. “It's just the two of us, holed up in this isolated cabin.  It was snowing outside and there was a fire in the woodstove.  It doesn’t get more romantic than that.”

I couldn’t disagree with her about that. “Yeah, but aren’t you...you know...” Again, the words wouldn’t come.

“A Leo?”

I made a face. “No. Straight.”

“Is that why you were weird this morning? Well, weirder than usual,” she unnecessarily added. “Did you think you’d somehow corrupted or taken advantage of the straight girl?”

I wrung my hands in front of me.  I hadn’t thought I was being that obvious when we’d woken up. “I’m not worried I corrupted you.”

Something flickered across Nora's face. Her lips curled up at the edges. “Oh, I get it now. You’re wondering if I’m straight because you’re wondering if we’ll ever get to do that again.”

“No, that’s not it either.” By now I was sure my typically pale skin was bright pink. “I just want to make sure we’re on the same page.”

“And what page would that be?”

I sighed. “I don’t know. That's why I’m asking you.”

“Look, Sam. We don’t have to make a big deal out of this, okay? I had fun last night and if the sounds you were making were any indication, you had fun, too. We don’t need labels. And we don’t need to over-analyze it.”

I stood up and wiped my palms on the tops of my thighs. “I’m gonna look around upstairs and see if there’s anything useful we can take on the road with us.” I tried to keep my tone neutral so she wouldn’t think I was upset.

She nodded.  “I’ll keep looking downstairs.”

Her answer to my question hadn’t been satisfactory, but it was the best I could hope for.

I opened a closet in the loft and let out a yelp of surprise when its contents tumbled out on top of me.

Nora’s feet pounded up the loft staircase. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” I nudged at a cluster of empty shoeboxes with the toe of my boots. With half of the closet’s contents now scattered on the floor, I could see other items that had been stored in the back. I pulled out a cylinder-shaped canvas bag tied at the top. “Oh, please let this be what I think it is,” I mumbled.

I unfastened the yellow tie on one end and tipped the bag upside down. There was another jarring noise as fiberglass collapsible sticks fell from the bag. The other items were stuck and I tugged them free. It was a tent.

I crouched down to give it a closer inspection.  Nora peered over my shoulder while I checked the tent for rips.  “Is that a tent?”

“So far so good.”

“Oh.  great.”

“You don't sound excited,” I observed.

“No. It’s...it’s really great, Sam. No more caves or carnival.” She looked around and seemed to sigh. “Or cozy cottages.”

I stood up and brushed at my knees. The floor of the closet had been covered in dust. “We can still find better places to spend the night,” I reassured her. “But at least now we don’t have to worry about finding shelter every night.”

“Yeah. You’re right,” she finally conceded. It sounded like it pained her though to admit that I might be right.  I worried that she might still be trying to convince me to stay here rather than go to Eden.

We spent the remainder of the day resting our bodies and staying warm.  Nora had put herself in charge of keeping the fire stoked and I let her.  Now, she sat on the bed upstairs, inspecting her bare feet.

“Is it shallow of me that I'm really craving a pedicure?”

“Yes.” I was inspecting one of the road maps for the umpteenth time that day.  I wanted to be ready to go in the morning and make good time.

She flexed her toes and made a face. “You're not supposed to agree with me.”

“I'm not?”

“No.” She swung her legs over the edge of the narrow mattress and flipped her feet back and forth. “You're supposed to reassure me that I’m not a horrible person and that snowpants don’t make my ass look big.”

“I am?”

Nora rolled her eyes. “You really didn’t have a lot of girl friends did you?”

I knew she meant girls who were friends, but the phrase still made me uncomfortable. All I’d ever wanted in high school was a girlfriend.  But it had been North Dakota and I was a coward.  I didn’t know anyone who was gay, and it had made me feel so alone. I had ached to be just like everyone else.  Now, stealing glances at Nora and admiring the healthy glow of her skin made me realize that I was still a coward.  When words failed me, I shrugged.

She sighed heavily. “What good is surviving the End of the World if you’re not allowed any vices?”

I didn’t have an answer for her, so I shrugged again.  All I knew was that in the morning we’d be back on the road.  Today had been a nice reprieve from that, but it was time to stop playing house and get back to the real world.

“Come to bed?”

She held out her hand to me and my stomach seriously flip-flopped like I was in the backseat of a speeding car that had just gone over a bump. Those aquamarine eyes bore into me. Maybe I could play house for a little while longer.

+++++

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

“Are you ready yet?” I called up the stairs.

“Don’t ask stupid questions,” Nora’s voice floated down.  “If I was ready, I’d be downstairs with you.”

My hand clenched and unclenched around the wooden banister.  I was anxious to get back on our journey.  I could admit that our  detour had been nice, but the people of Hot Springs could still be following us, and in hindsight, two days of remaining in one place hadn’t been the smartest strategy.

Nora’s boots were loud as she tromped down the wooden stairs.  My stomach flipped when I first spotted her.  It was a ridiculous reaction, I knew.  Nothing was going to change between us.  She was still an entitled brat and for me, reuniting with my dad was priority number one.

A cross look soured her beautiful face. “Sorry it took so long.  My hair was being stubborn.”

“Why did you fix your hair?  It’s just going under a hat as soon as we go outside.”

“Maybe I wanted to look nice for you in the five seconds you’d actually see it.” She tugged on her hat, covering the hair she’d just spent time to actually fix.  Just the tips poked out where her hair was slightly longer than the material of the hat.

“Oh, well, uh…” I didn’t know what to say.  She didn’t seem to be flirting with me; her tone was very matter-of-fact.

“You’re kind of cute when you’re uncomfortable, Fargo,” she winked.

I didn’t bother pointing out that I wasn’t from that city.  She knew the difference; she just wanted to pull a reaction from me.  I grabbed my own knit cap and tugged it on.  At least she hadn’t called me “Sammy,” so I suppose it was an improvement.

The sun was high in the sky and I slipped on my sunglasses to combat the glare.  I checked my compass and the location of the sun and went west.  When I came to a little hill, I grabbed onto the tall grasses poking up through the snow to help me climb the brief, but steep incline.  I stopped when I reached the top and turned to help Nora up as well.  Her feet slipped where my boots had broken through the snow bank, but after a brief struggle, she reached the apex as well.

We both took a moment to look back at the little cottage.  A thin plume of smoke clung in the air just above the chimney from the fire I’d left dying in the woodstove.  Nora’s light blue eyes had taken on a faraway look as she gazed back at our temporary sanctuary.  I could almost hear her plea in my head: It’s not too late, Sammy.  It doesn’t have to be so hard.  We could always just stay.

“How much longer do you think it’ll be?” she asked.

I looked at the road map and the black mark Nora had made with a sharpie.  “I can’t say for sure because who knows what kind of weather we’ll come across,” I prefaced my estimate, “but I’m hoping less than a week.

“That doesn’t seem so bad.”

I shook my head.  In the grand scheme of things, a week on the road was hardly a hardship.  We’d certainly endured worse this month.  But I wasn’t going to let my guard down.  The weather could take a turn for the worst, we could be attacked by bandits, and worse yet, Eden might not really exist.  I wanted to believe Mr. West’s story and that we hadn’t been chasing ghosts across the country.  But I also had to be pragmatic and prepare, at least mentally, for the very real possibility that there was no salvation coming.

I didn’t want to think about it too much though because if Eden didn’t exist, the chances of reconnecting with my father was slim to none. We couldn’t go back to Hot Springs – that would be suicide.  But they’d had the right idea camping by the natural hot springs.  Certainly it wasn’t the only geothermal resource in the area.  We’d just have to find another one and try to make a go of it.

I wondered what my safety-minded, logical father would do in my place.  Would he leave behind a safe haven for the uncertainty of finding me again?  Would the risk be worth the reward?  He’d already lost his wife and his mother to the Frost – what was one more heartache?

“Hey, are you okay?” Nora’s hand rested on my forearm.  Her piercing irises looked at me with concern.

“I’m fine,” I choked out.  I self-consciously wiped my gloved hand across my face, which dislodged her hand from my arm.

She kept searching my face and her penetrating gaze unnerved me.  I didn’t want to be so easily readable, even to her.  We’d shared a vulnerable moment two nights ago, but I couldn’t suddenly let my guard down around her and voice my fears whenever they popped unbidden to my brain.  I had to stay strong and make sure we made it to Eden.  We were so close.  I couldn’t fail her now.

I shouldered the backpack I’d restocked with the limited items from the cottage’s pantry.  It felt nice to feel the reassuring weight of the pack, knowing our supplies could probably last us until we got to central Idaho.  I think Nora was waiting on some words of wisdom or encouragement from me, but I was currently tapped out.  I needed to ration those niceties and optimism like the canned goods in my backpack.  This trip was becoming just as mentally challenging as it was physical.  I looked down at my compass again even though our direction hadn’t changed – it was just a nervous habit by now.

“C’mon,” I said, hiking my backpack higher on my shoulders. “It’s time to go.”

+++++

With our bodies relatively rested, we were able to make good time that day.  Mile-wise I didn’t know how far we’d gone, but it felt like we’d traveled farther than any other day so far.  It helped that the terrain remained relatively flat as long as we kept close to the frozen river that carved through the mountains.  It was also lucky that we’d found that tent in the cottage because more permanent shelter remained scarce.

We set up camp just before the sun set.  I was in charge of making a fire and setting up animal traps while Nora took care of assembling the tent.  That evening we cooked canned potatoes in the fire and had pineapple chunks for dessert.  With little else to entertain ourselves with and stomachs not entirely satisfied, we extinguished the fire and climbed into the tent.

“Do you ever think about heat?”

I rolled over on my side inside of my sleeping bag.  Nora laid on her back with her hands positioned under her head for a makeshift pillow.

“Sorry.  That was a dumb question,” she laughed to herself.  “Of course we all think about heat.”

I nodded, agreeing. “Why do you ask?”

“I was just thinking which scenario would be preferable – freezing to death or burning up.”

“I’ve always liked cooler weather more than summer,” I admitted. “And you can always put on more layers, too. If it’s too hot there’s only so much you can take off until you’re just naked.”

“Yeah, but I worked so hard to get into bikini shape. It’s a shame  no one gets to appreciate it.”

I rolled my eyes. “Are you always so big ego’ed or do I just bring out the best in you?”

She rolled onto her side to face me. Her movement brought us practically nose to nose and my eyes crossed at the closeness. “Oh, it’s definitely not you.  I’ve always been like this.”

“Well that’s good,” I said sardonically. “Wouldn’t want to think I was special or something.” I was trying to keep up with her playful banter, but the words just sounded bitter.

Her eyes perceptibly narrowed, and I couldn’t help but notice the wounded look on her features.  She’d been teasing, but I’d unintentionally turned things ugly with my insecurities.  I hated not knowing how Nora felt about me, but I was too afraid to start that conversation.

“So you think I just have sex with every girl I stumble across?”

The wind howling outside our shelter sounded like a banshee shrieking.  I should have taken it as a warning sign not to continued down this conversational path.

“Whatever,” I stupidly scoffed. “Let’s not pretend the other night meant anything except what it was. You were hurting and I was sexually frustrated.” I didn’t know where all these hateful words were coming from, but I couldn’t seem to turn them off.

She stared at me a little longer before licking her lips. “Nice to know where I stand.”

“Don’t know what to tell you,” I said, tugging at my sleeping bag.  I drew the defensive words up around me like a shield.

“How about that you’re rude, stubborn, and you think you’re better than me.”

“Correction,” I snapped.  “I am better than you.”

Her body went rigid.  “And why’s that?  Because you know how to make a fire without matches?” she scoffed.  “That doesn’t make you better than me, Sam.  It only makes you a little better than a cave man.”  She tugged at the corners of her sleeping bag so it wrapped around the bottom half of her face, obscuring her mouth. “You might think I’ve lived a privileged life,” she continued, “but you’re more standoffish and judgmental than any of those girls I went to boarding school or college with.”

“Let’s just get some sleep,” I said wearily. I hadn’t expected a fight tonight and was quickly fading.  And if we kept fighting I knew I’d continue to say things that I would regret in the morning.

“Whatever.” Nora flopped around angrily next to me until she found a comfortable position.

I wouldn’t try to snuggle or keep her warm that night. I sighed heavily and stared at the nothingness in front of my eyes.  With one fell swoop, I’d ruined all the progress we’d made.

+++++

I had a hard time sleeping that night.  I kept thinking about our brief, but hurtful fight and what I could do to make things better.  It was my own insecurities that had been the fuel on the fire, not anything Nora had done. I managed to grab a few hours of sleep, but eventually ended up crawling out of the tent before the sun woke up.  I made a fire and checked the animal traps – empty.  I rummaged through the food in my backpack and tried to come up with something creative for breakfast that might help put us both in a more amicable mood.  I had an idea, but I wasn’t sure if it would work.

I carefully picked my way down to the iced-over river and found a relatively large river stone, flat and polished smooth.  When I made it back to the campsite, Nora was still in our tent.  I put the copper kettle we used to melt drinking water into fire and scooped handfuls of clean snow into the pot.  Then I set the stone in the hottest part of the fire and waited.

Some time later, when the sun was nearly at its highest point in the sky, I heard the zipper of our tent door.  I grinned despite myself at the disgruntled noises Nora emitted when she exited the tent.

“Sleep well?” I asked, not diverting my attention away from the fire.  The river rock was still heating up and the copper kettle was nearly filled to the top with melted snow.

“I’ve had better.”

I looked up to see Nora playing with the zipper of her jacket. “Do you like pancakes?” I asked her.

“Pancakes?” she echoed.

“I found an unopened package in the pantry at the cottage,” I explained.  “There weren’t any maggots in it, so I’m assuming it’s still good to eat.”

Her beautiful face immediately crumpled. “I could have gone without you mentioning maggots.”

I grinned broadly. “Not hungry anymore?”

“Oh, I’m starved.  I’d eat the hell out of pancakes, maggots or not.”

I sprinkled some pancake powder into the copper kettle we typically used to make drinking water.  I stirred the mixture until it made a smooth batter and poured a generous amount onto the river rock I’d collected.  I hadn’t been sure it would actually work, and I mentally high-fived myself when the batter began to sizzle.

Nora crouched down beside me to get a better view.  “That’s a pretty impressive trick.”

I shrugged nonchalantly even though I was pretty proud of my creativity. “My grandma used to cook like this for us.  Not exactly on a hot rock, but close to it.”

Nora brushed her fingers along the side of my face and tucked some hair behind my ear. “Your hair is so pretty,” she murmured. “It’s too bad you have to hide it under a hat all day.”

I ducked my head and my hair fell in front of my eyes like a curtain. “It’s nothing special.”

“I think you're kind of amazing, Samantha Poulsen,” she breathed. The intensity and wonder in her aqua-blue eyes made me uncomfortable, so I looked away.

I chewed on my lower lip and watched the pancake batter start to bubble. “I’m sorry we fought last night.”

“I’m sorry we did, too,” she sighed.  “Let’s promise never to fight again.”

My mouth curved into a smile. “Is that the kind of thing you can promise?”

“You made me pancakes with a rock,” Nora noted. “I think just about anything is possible.”

+++++

“Have you noticed it’s kind of beautiful out here?” Nora tilted her head up toward the sky and released a long breath. It formed a single white plume of condensed air.

I adjusted the straps of my backpack and looked over the scenery to which Nora was referring. I didn’t know where we were exactly, but I wouldn’t have been surprised if this had been a National Park once. We were flanked by mountains on either side. It gave the impression that grey storm clouds were just on the verge of rolling in. I looked straight up and saw blue sky.

“Have you ever been this far west?” I asked.

“My dad took us to California once for a work thing, but I’ve never been up here before. Is this what North Dakota looks like, too?”

I shook my head. “It's not as pretty as this,” I remarked. “The Badlands are nice, but most of the state is one giant, flat piece of land.”

Nora got down to her knees and removed her backpack. She pulled a granola bar from her pack and unwrapped it.  She offered me a half of it.

“Did you like living in Connecticut?” I asked around a mouthful of oats and raisins.  The granola bar was a little on the stale side, but I didn’t care.

“I wasn’t there much.  I was in New York City most of the time at boarding school and then in Massachusetts at Smith.”

“I’ve never been to the East Coast,” I said wistfully. “I’ve never really been anywhere.”

My family was wealthy enough that we could have gone on vacations, but my dad’s job made it hard to get away for an extended amount of time.  We’d taken long weekends to Minnesota or South Dakota, but for the majority of my life I’d never really left Williston.  College was supposed to be that opportunity.  I was supposed to study abroad for a semester in Europe and go backpacking and live in hostels.  When I thought about having an adventure and backpacking across the country, I hadn’t meant what we were currently doing.  I should have been more specific.

“Well now you’ve been to Montana and I’m pretty sure we’re in Idaho now,” Nora said cheerfully.

I made a noncommittal grunting noise, but said nothing.  Some accomplishment.

“What's that?”

I looked in the direction of where she was pointing.  White billows of what looked like smoke were coming from the ground.

“Is that a fire?” Nora's voice sounded both confused and concerned. “Are there people over there?”

“I think it’s another hot springs.” I tentatively walked in the direction of the translucent steam. “They're probably all over this area.”

“Could someone have build an underground shelter here, too?” she asked uneasily. It was clear the idea of another Hot Springs scenario made her uncomfortable.

“Maybe, but it’s unlikely.” I felt confident that Hot Springs, Montana had been an anomaly. It would have taken significant foresight and resources to construct something its equal.

Perhaps emboldened by my words, Nora stepped a little closer to one of the steaming pockets. “That's just warm air coming out of the ground, right?”

“Not too close,” I warned her.  “The ground might look like it’s solid, but it could be hot mud that’ll suck up your boots like a tar pit.”

It was tempting to go closer to the geysers and enjoy their heat, but unlike a fire, the steam was wet heat. It would feel amazing standing in the steam, but the moment you moved away from them, you’d freeze.

She bent and scooped up a glove-full of snow and shoved it in her mouth. “Are you sure we can’t go over there?” she said around her mouthful of melting snow.

“I’m sure.”

“Not even for a little bit?” she questioned.

"Not even for a little bit.”

She pouted so adorably, I wanted to throw caution to the wind. But I knew it would be foolish to go frolicking in the hot steam. If the mud didn’t get us, the moisture from the steam would.

“I’ll build you a big fire tonight,” I promised.

No sooner had I made my promise when a noise – a loud pounding – echoed in my ears.  I grabbed Nora and threw my body, along with hers, behind a large boulder. When my body met the solid ground I tried to stifle the pained moan.

Two horses, both with chestnut colored manes and flanks, galloped along side each other, kicking up the fine layer of snow that dusted the earth.  The bright overhead sun shimmered off their still glossy coats.  The weather had taken its toll as their rib cages were visible, but they were still beautiful with strong muscles flexing as they ran unrestrained.

I didn’t know what I thought I was going to do, but I reflexively reached for the knife at my hip.  The horses weren’t going to attack us and there was no way I would have been able to take down a wild mustang with a knife.

Nora grabbed my elbow. “Please, Sam. Don’t.”

My hand fell away from the handle and my body relaxed.  It had taken all this time for me to realize that it wasn’t Mother Nature that scared me.  It was the threat of other humans.

“Let's keep moving.” My voice sounded as gruff and raw as I felt. “I want to get a few more miles in before we stop for the night.”

“I’m getting a little nervous,” Nora said.

I brushed my hands together, knocking some of the powered snow from my gloves.   When I’d thrown us both to the ground, I’d gotten covered in snow.  “About what?”

“One more day and we should be in Eden.” Nora worried her bottom lip. “What if it’s not there? What if I got the location wrong?”

We had only another day or two of walking until we reached the location on the map – a tiny peninsula in Idaho that had been part of a national land preserve. But if Eden didn’t exist, I didn’t know what we were going to do for food.  Despite finding the Ranger Station and the cottage, our foodstuffs were down to a few cans of assorted food. My animal traps had been empty for days, and I hadn’t even seen prints in the snow.  It was like this whole area had been picked over.  Or, worse still, that the earth was growing uninhabitable.

“Do you think you could be wrong? Do you want to look at the map again?” I asked.

“No.” She shook her head hard and her face had taken on that familiar stubbornness. “I got the place right. I remember the peninsula. When my dad first showed it to me I remember thinking it was the perfect location.  All of that water surrounding the peninsula – they could use hydroelectric as well as geothermal power to electrify the whole place.”

“What are you really worried about, Nora?”

Nora hesitated. “What if he was lying this entire time? What if Eden really is just an urban legend? We dragged your family all the way out here and now your dad and grandma are gone. I feel responsible for them.” Her eyelashes fluttered. “For you.”

I took her hand in mine. I wished we didn’t have these damn mittens separating us because I really wanted to feel the heat of her skin. “If it’s not there, if Eden doesn’t exist,” I said, “we’ll figure something else out. We’ve made it this far. We’ll make it further.”

Her bottom lip quivered until she bit down on it to make it stop moving. When she’d reigned in her emotions, she leaned forward, close enough so she could brush her lips against mine. They were a little chapped, but I certainly didn’t mind.

“What was that for?” I asked.

She gave me a small smile. “For knowing exactly what I needed to hear.”

+++++

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

It felt like we’d walked across the entire planet and not just a few states, but we finally made it.  We made it to that circled mark on the road map.

“Hope Elementary School,” Nora read aloud from the kiosk adjacent to the county highway we’d been traveling on since leaving the Ranger Station. In the distance, I could see the single-story building with its pitched blue roof.

“The entrance to Hot Springs was through a high school,” I noted.  “Think it could be how we get into Eden, too?”

Nora shook her head.  “I honestly don’t know.”

“Let’s keep going a few more miles and see what we run into,” I suggested.  I referenced the map again.  “We should be coming up to the downtown area soon.  If nothing jumps out, we can always come back here and explore.”

We continued to walk alongside the county road.  It looked like it had recently been plowed and that gave me hope.

“What’s so funny?”

I hadn’t realized I’d been giggling out loud. “Sorry.  I just realized the name of this town – Hope, Idaho.  The government couldn’t have been more deliberate if they tried.”

She pursed her lips. “You’re cute, Fargo.”

Abandoned semi-trucks and RV campers dotted the road.  Normally the extra cars on the road would have worried me, but it made sense – supplies would have been shipped to Eden before the worst of the Frost set in and families would have needed a way to reach such a remote location, especially when the trains, planes, and buses had stopped running.

Not far from the school was a cluster of buildings that look like they’d once been apartments as well as a graveyard for motorboats.  The lake was frozen solid, but the parking lot was crammed full of boats on their trailers.  I looked to Nora for some sign that we might be closer, but she continued to look worried.  I remained silent and we kept walking.

The long stretch of highway hugged the shoreline.  A metal safety guard separated the road from a modest drop-off that led to the lake.  On the opposite side of the road were small mountains or large hills – I couldn’t tell which – covered in evergreens.  I wondered if maybe Eden had been carved out of the belly of a mountain like NORAD in Colorado, but I kept those thoughts to myself.  Nora looked worried enough; I didn’t need to pile on top of her already mountainous anxieties.

We came across a second harbor, larger than the first.  Boating must have been popular in Hope, Idaho.  Nora kept walking and so I followed.  Eventually we found the small downtown business district.  The main street was narrow.  Abandoned boutique stores competed with national chain-stores for attention.

I felt on edge walking down the abandoned streets of the isolated Idaho town. The snow was thin but it crunched loudly beneath my boots. It’s like every step I took was a warning that we should avoid this place.  I looked back and forth as we walked down the center of the main street, keeping my eyes peeled for movement that might indicate we were being watched.  My father had always instructed me to avoid cities and any formerly populated place where bandits might be lurking. Nora looked similarly unsettled, but I think her apprehension was less about bandits and more about Eden.  I could understand her unease.  If I had been her, I’d feel an unfair amount of responsibility. After all, I’d put all my faith in her that Eden existed.

“So we’re here,” I noted quietly.  “Now what?”

Nora looked troubled.  “My dad told me the name of the town,” she admitted, “but that’s about it.  He said I’d know it when I saw it.”

“Why wouldn’t he have just told you exactly how to find it?” I pressed.

Nora shook her head.  The worry lines were deep on her forehead.  “He was a really secretive guy.”

I instantly worried not only for ourselves, but also for my dad.  If Mr. West had told my dad the name of the city, had he given him enough information so my dad would be able to find Eden’s entrance?

“It couldn’t be that easy,” she mumbled out loud.

“What?”

She walked up to one of the storefronts and stopped just in front of the store’s closed doors.  The design screen-printed on the door was pretty unsophisticated.  It was a red bird, but comically out of proportion with a wild shock of yellow atop its head.  There were light blue streaks peppering its wings and it looked to be wrestling a pink worm out of the ground.  She put her hand flat against the painted design and didn’t move.

“What is it, Nora?” I didn’t recognize the design as being the brand of a specific company or product.

“I drew this,” she breathed.  Her fingers traced over the outline of the figure.  “When I was five or six, I was obsessed with birds.  I wanted to fly so badly.”

“Did you jump off the roof of your house with feathers glued to your arms?” I teased.

She looked at me and rolled her eyes.  “I was five, Sam.  Not stupid.”

“But you drew this,” I said.  It seemed improbable.  “Are you sure?”

“My parents put this drawing up on the refrigerator and never took it down.  I saw this bird every time I came home for a school vacation.”

There were no other markings on the storefront besides the redbird with its yellow mohawk.

“So do we just go in?” I asked.

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

I pushed on the horizontal door handle. I expected to be met with resistance, that the store would be locked, but surprisingly it swung open.

Inside, the shop was empty. It looked like it had been well-picked over by looters or bandits.  It was hard to piece together what the shop might have been before the Frost, but it kind of resembled an old video rental shop.

Nora walked in after me. “I don’t get it,” she said, puzzled. “Where's the entrance to Eden?”

I cautiously stepped around the shop, fully expecting that someone might pop out at us.  The whole store was eerily silent except when my boots walked over a random discarded DVD case. The only hopeful sign of life was a space heater in the corner that was churning out enough heat to make my gloves and hat overkill. This had to be the right place – no average generator would still be functional to supply that kind of energy.

“Is there a back room, maybe?” I suggested. “Or a basement?”

Nora looked lost in thought. “Where is everybody?”

I leaned against the front register area. Behind the front counter were assorted office supplies, but no key rings that might lead us to a secret room.  Sitting all by itself on the counter was a silver bell – the kind you’re supposed to ring for service.  “What do you think about this?” I asked as I pointed to the bell.

“It couldn’t hurt.”

I pressed down on the bell’s top button.  The bell sounded crisp and loud in the nearly empty store.

We stood, unmoving and unbreathing, as we waited for something, anything, to happen.  Our eyes met and when at least a minute had passed, her disappointment was salient.

I was just about to offer up some encouraging words when a door I had somehow overlooked opened.  A willowy woman, no more than 40 or so, breezed into the room.

“Can I help you?”

Nora stepped up to the counter.  “Uh, I’m not exactly sure how this works.  If there’s a password or something.”

The woman quirked an eyebrow.  “What exactly are you looking for?”

“My dad built Eden.”

The woman looked unfathomably amused. “So your dad is God? Think you can ask him to turn down the air conditioning? I’m freezing.”

Nora flushed. “No, his name was Jerry West.”

“Was?” the woman asked, now looking interested instead of amused.

“Yeah, he, uh, he died a few days ago. He was shot just outside of Hot Springs, Montana.”

“And you two girls made it out here all by yourselves?” she asked. Her eyes flicked from Nora's face to mine.

“We’ve come a long way, lady,” I snapped. My patience ran thin and I didn’t approve of the way this woman was toying with Nora. “So is this the gateway to Eden or not?”

The woman’s brown eyes remained steadily locked on my face as if she was trying to remember my face for a police composite drawing later. “No. It’s not.”

From my peripheral vision I saw Nora’s shoulders slump forward.

“We don’t call it Eden,” the woman supplied. “We call it West Genesis.”

“West Genesis?” Nora echoed. Her voice and body language perked up.

“Genesis, like the book in the Bible,” the woman who had yet to introduce herself clarified. “And I had thought the west part was because of our location on the West Coast, but now that I think about it, it could be named after your father.”

Her gaze went back to me. “And who might you be?”

“This is Samantha,” Nora spoke up before I could even open my mouth. "She’s my little sister.”

The woman's gaze continued to travel back and forth between our faces. I was sure she was looking for some kind of resemblance and finding none.  Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she picked up a landline and dialed a number.  I held my breath, fully expecting security or something to come busting through a wall like the Kool-Aid man.

“I’ve got Jerry West’s two daughters here,” she spoke into the phone. There was a pregnant pause. “No. Just them.” Her voice dropped. “Mr. West didn’t make the trip.”

I glanced over at Nora.  She held her body extremely upright and her lips were drawn in a tight line.  I grabbed her hand, hidden by the tall ledge surrounding the front counter and gave it a squeeze.

The woman hung up the phone and turned her attention back to us. “Because of his service to constructing West Genesis, your father was to be granted accommodations for three.”

Nora, her father, and her mother, I thought to myself.

“For the time being,” she continued, “you two will be allowed to live in one of the family-sized suites, but you may be asked to downsize to one of the smaller apartments if we need the space later.”

“That will be fine,” Nora said. “Just as long as my sister and I aren’t separated.”

“Of course,” the woman replied with a curt nod. “We never like to split up families.”

“Does someone have to stay up here all the time on the off-chance that someone comes in looking for this place?” I asked.

“It’s not so bad,” the woman shrugged. “The back room is nicely heated and I get to catch up on all the reading I never had time to do before Apophis.  We’ve got the Library of Congress’s holdings digitized and there are resident writers in West Genesis who earn their keep writing new novels and poetry.”

“Earn their keep?” I questioned. Something about that phrase sounded more sinister than peeling potatoes at Hot Springs.

The woman waved a hand. “You’ll learn all about it at orientation.”  She turned her back to us and removed several carpet squares to reveal a panel on the floor.  It looked like the entrance to a crawl space or cannery cellar, except for a complicated set of dials.  She expertly spun the dials this way and that as if she’d done it thousands of times before.  When her hands stopped moving, there was a series of metallic clicking noises and the floor boards shifted out of the way to reveal a set of stairs that disappeared into the darkness.

She waved her hand like a game show prize model.  “Welcome to West Genesis.”

Both Nora and I stared down at the dark hole.   The first four or five steps were illuminated by the store’s overhead light, but beyond that was a murky darkness.

“So we just go down those stairs?” Nora asked.

“Simple as that,” the woman confirmed.  “At the bottom of the stairs you’ll find another West Genesis resident.  His name is Henry and he’ll take you the rest of the way down.”

I breathed in a shaky breath and appraised Nora.  She still looked uncertain.  “Ready, sis?” I asked.

Her eyes snapped up and she met my gaze with a girlish smile.  “You bet, Sammy.”

We made our way down a metal staircase that spiraled into the earth. I started counting stairs, but when I got to two hundred, I stopped.  Small in-wall sconces struggled to provide enough light so we didn’t stumble blindly down the stairs.  My boots echoed noisily against the metal grate.  The banister felt gritty under my bare hand like it had just been sandblasted to eliminate rust.

“Not exactly handicap accessible, is it?” I remarked.  My voice seemed to get swallowed up by the darkness.

“Something tells me only able-bodied people are allowed in West Genesis,” Nora noted darkly.

I stopped and looked straight up.  The woman at the top of the stairs must have shut the floor panel because I no longer saw the window of light.  “Are we sure we want to go down here?”

“Not really,” Nora admitted with a sigh.  “That woman upstairs was horrible.  But your dad might be down here.”

“I should have asked her about him.” Damn it. I’d completely forgotten.

“Yeah, but who knows if she would have told you the truth.”  She continued down the stairs, so I followed. “We should see for ourselves.”

When we finally reached the bottom of the staircase, we were met by a man with salt and pepper hair.  He was dressed casually in jeans and a long-sleeved shirt.  He offered an outstretched hand and a winning smile to Nora, who’d reached the bottom first.  “Miss West,” he greeted, “I’m Henry Couch.  Glad to have you aboard.”

Nora accepted the handshake and poured on the charm. “Nora West,” she introduced herself.  “And this is my sister, Samantha.”

I flashed Henry a quick grin, but I’m sure it looked more pained than genuine.

Henry pulled and pushed at an elaborate set of handles.  A series of gears twisted and churned and it sounded like something was unlocking.

“That’s pretty elaborate,” I spoke up, feeling unwontedly brave despite being who knows how far underground. “Is that to keep people in or out?”

I felt a sharp stab in my ribs as Nora’s elbow found my side.  “Don’t mind her,” she smiled a little too brightly.  “Sam doesn’t know how to do subtle.”

Henry seemed unconcerned by my question. “It’s okay,” he laughed pleasantly, eyes crinkling.  “It does seem a little bit overkill.  But all these checks and balances were already here when we inherited the place.”

“It was a nuclear bomb shelter before, right?” Nora noted.  “It makes sense.  I suppose they’d want air-tight seals and fancy locks to keep safe from nuclear fallout.”

“Does the President live down here?” I blurted out another question. I immediately wrapped my arms around my ribs incase Nora’s elbows were on the way.  She held back though when Henry chuckled again.

“I don’t want to give too much away,” he said vaguely. “You’ll learn all about that at orientation.”  He looked pointedly at me.  “And don’t be afraid to ask questions, Miss West. We try to be as transparent as possible in West Genesis.”

“Thank you, Henry.”  I made sure to stick my tongue out at Nora.  It added to the whole “sibling” vibe, I’m sure.

Henry yanked on the handle of the large metal door, which slid horizontally across the floor.  I half expected another set of rusty stairs to take us deeper into the ground, but instead the door slid open to reveal the inside of an elevator.

“Now this wasn’t part of the original structure,” Henry noted.  “This was all your dad.”

I peered inside suspiciously.  It looked harmless enough – just an oversized service elevator.

Henry motioned grandly with his arm. “Going down, ladies?” he grinned.

Nora flashed him another practiced smile and strode into the center of the elevator.  I offered Henry a less impressive smile and followed her inside.

“Are you coming with?” Nora asked.

“No,” Henry shook his head.  “I’ve got a few more hours before my shift is over.  We have people stationed at all the checkpoints 24-7 because there’s still a few more people who’ve yet to show up.”

“What happens when everyone is present and accounted for?” Nora asked.

Henry smiled mildly. “I see curiosity runs in the family.”  Then, before either of us could comment, the elevator door slid closed.

Another set of mechanical locks clicked and snapped into place.  The elevator shuddered and jolted.

“Steam powered,” Nora mused aloud.  “We must be near another natural hot water spring.”

The elevator compartment jumped again before we began our long descent.

“Can you imagine if they really named this place after your dad?” I remarked. “You’re gonna be like royalty down here.”

“So are you, sis,” she laughed.

I hadn’t forgotten about that detail.  “So I’m your sister, eh?” I murmured out the side of my mouth. I didn’t want to speak too loudly in case we were being watched by a hidden camera.

Nora stared straight ahead. “It was just a precaution,” she said in an equally quiet tone.  She must have been thinking the same thing as me about being watched. “They might not have let you in otherwise.”

Again, I became more worried for my father than for myself.  Had he come here asking for Eden only to be turned away by the stubborn woman at the shop front? Or had the name Jerry West been enough to garner him access?

A very short woman with thick eyeglasses greeted us when the elevator door slid open again.

“Good afternoon, girls,” she chirped. “My name is Cynthia Hook.  I’ll be bringing you to your apartment.” She reminded me of an ostrich with her pencil sharp nose, long neck, and short fluffy haircut.

Nora slid back into her role as gracious guest once again.  “Ms. Hook,” she purred, “so nice to meet you.”

“Oh, call me Cynthia, dear,” the be-speckled woman said.  “We’re a pretty informal bunch down here.”

I thrust my hand at her.  “I’m Sam,” I said.  It was awkward.  Everyone was so polite and so civilized.  I felt like an unwashed ogre.

Nora looked amused. “And I’m Nora.”  Her voice, which had always contained a velvety quality to it sounded even more plush than before.  I wondered if the altitude was affecting my hearing.

“Well, Sam, Nora,” Cynthia Hook nodded at each of us, “let’s get you to your bunk.  I’m sure you’re eager to get settled in.  But first, a little detour.”

A hidden door slid open along a long, smooth wall in the brightly lit hallway. A wide-set man stood on the other side of the panel.  His bald head shone under the glare of unforgiving lights and his skin was the color of coffee beans.  He looked like he’d been a nose tackle in another life.  He crossed his beefy arms across his broad chest.

“What is this?” Nora demanded.  Her voice bordered on shrill.

“We just need to go through your bags before we can let you go any further, girls.” Cynthia explained, ushering us inside a small, windowless room.

“Why?” I asked.

“It’s all part of processing and getting you ready for life in West Genesis,” she said matter-of-factly.

I felt a sense of foreboding settle in when the automatic doors closed behind us.

“You’ll need to surrender any weapons and illegal narcotics,” the burly man announced in a deep, gravely voice.

“No weapons?” I openly challenged. “What about the 2nd Amendment?”

“We’re in a state of emergency, dear. Some rights have had to be suspended for the good of the whole,” Cynthia justified.

The security guard looked expectantly at me. “Weapons, please.”

I glanced over at Nora who could only shrug helplessly.  I cursed under my breath, but eventually unfastened my hunting knife at my hip and handed it, along with its protective sheath, to the man.

One of his eyebrows, which looked far too manicured for my liking, rose on his forehead.

“That’s it?”

“What did you expect?” I snorted.  “A grenade launcher?”

He ignored me and unzipped Nora’s backpack first.

“The only weapon you’ll find in there are nail clippers,” Nora huffed.  She stood still while the man shuffled through the contents of her backpack. He seemed satisfied after only a minute of rummaging and zipped the bag back up.

“I gave you my only weapon,” I protested when the man made a move to open up my pack.

He grunted, but ignored my hostility. He unzipped my pack and immediately pulled out the bottle of moonshine.  The bottle was mostly still full as we’d only opened it up that first night in the cave.

“What’s in here?” he asked.

“Alcohol,” I said stiffly. I wondered if that would be considered contraband, too.

He opened the bottle and took a sniff. “Wooh,” he exclaimed, jerking his head back. “That stuff will put hair on your chest. You girls really drink that?”

“Do we get to keep it or are you confiscating that, too?” I huffed, ignoring his original question.

He resealed the bottle and slid it back into my backpack.

“Okay!” Cynthia clapped her hands together. Apparently our “processing” was complete. “Time to show you girls to your apartment.”

We left the security detour and continued down a hall.  After taking so many left and right turns, I was completely disoriented.  Finally, we came to our destination.  The ground shuddered slightly under my feet.

“This place is big enough that you have a subway system?” I gaped.

“There's an elevator system, too,” Cynthia chirped proudly. “There are multiple levels, each serviced by its own monorail system.”

The monorail rolled to a smooth stop and the doors swished open.  A cheerful, robotic voice called out the name of the stop. “This is Madison.”

“All of the subway stops on the red line are named after U.S. Presidents,” Cynthia informed us as we stepped onto the train.  “The blue line stops, which is the entertainment section, are named after famous artists.”

Nora whistled under her breath. “How big is this place?”

“I’m not sure of the exact square mileage, but West Genesis is broken into sectors. Residential, commerce, and entertainment. All areas are open to residents except other people’s apartments, obviously.”

“Obviously,” I mumbled under my breath.

Nora gave me a sharp look, but Cynthia either ignored or hadn’t heard me.

After a few more stops and a line transfer (onto the yellow line, which Cynthia informed us serviced the residential section of West Genesis), we were finally at our new home.  It was disorienting not knowing where we were going and how deep we were under the ground.

“Don’t lose this,” Cynthia warned.  She handed us both a rectangle piece of plastic that looked like a motel keycard or a credit card. “This is both your apartment key and your money.  You can use it at any of the stores or restaurants in the commercial areas.  It works just like a debit card.  But spend your money wisely,” she cautioned. “You get a weekly allotment for food and another amount for miscellaneous things – clothes, entertainment, anything you might want for your apartment. Honestly, there’s not a lot of things to spend your money on, but the limit cuts down on hoarding.”  She laughed at some unspoken joke.  “But I’m getting ahead of myself.  You’ll learn all about that at your orientation tomorrow morning.”

I was feeling overwhelmed by all this information and our new surroundings, but I didn’t know what to do about it.

“Enjoy your first night in West Genesis, girls,” Cynthia smiled.  “I’ll be back at 9am tomorrow to bring you to orientation.”

“So we can do whatever we want until then?” I asked.

She spread her hands out at her sides.  “If it was legal above ground, it’s legal down here.”

“No, I just mean we don’t have lights-out or a specific dinner time?”

“This is still America, Miss West.” Cynthia smiled mildly.  I thought it odd she’d reverted to our more formal names even though she herself had insisted we use her first name.  “You may come and go as you please.  Just be sure you’re back by 9am for orientation.”

Nora used her keycard to gain entrance to our room.  I didn’t know what to expect, but I wasn’t mentally prepared for what was on the other side of the door.  I’m not sure what I’d been anticipating, but Hot Springs’s accommodations certainly had influenced my expectations.   In Hot Springs we’d all slept on uniform military-issue bunk beds.  We’d eaten in a communal mess hall and had showered in community bathrooms.  When Nora opened the door to reveal our living quarters, one thought popped into my head – there was an apocalypse above ground, but you’d never know it.

Nora whistled. “This is...”

“Amazing,” I finished for her.

The main room was an open floor plan divided by three types of flooring, carpet for the living room, hard wood for the dining room, and tile for the kitchen. Unlike Hot Springs where the furniture had come straight from people’s houses, it was clear that everything in our quarters was brand new.  Everything was updated, stylish, but also kind of stiff.

Nora shook her head. “It’s too much. Three people don’t need all this space, let alone the two of us.”

“I bet it’s just extra plush because of your dad.  He made this place. Why wouldn’t they give him the best digs?”

“Maybe.”

“Something’s been bugging me.”

“What’s that?” Nora hummed.

“If your dad helped design this place and knew they were saving a spot for your family, why did you guys wait so long to start coming over here?  You could have moved in right away instead of waiting two years after Apophis.”

Nora’s face fell and I knew I shouldn’t have asked that question.  “It was my fault.  I didn’t want to go.  I thought all of this was just a phase and if we waited long enough the Frost would pass.” She sighed miserably. “I don’t know why they didn’t just leave me behind.”

“Because they loved you.” The L-word felt funny coming out of my mouth as if my tongue wasn’t used to shaping that word anymore.

She gave me a sad smile. “And look what good that love did them. It got them killed.”

I sat down next her on the sofa. “You can’t let yourself think that way.  Nothing guarantees that they’d still be alive if you'd left earlier.”

Nora fiddled with a throw pillow, picking at the material. “My dad wanted to leave before Apophis hit. We would have flown in the company jet from Connecticut straight here.” She looked up and her eyes were wet. “They would still be alive,” she said thickly.

I bit my lower lip.  Shit.  I didn’t know what to say to that. The airplane could have crashed and then you'd all be dead? I was grasping at straws.

When words failed me, I stumbled on an apology. “I’m sorry, Nora. I shouldn’t have pried.” I was shit at consoling people, especially her. I had a talent for making things worse.  I tentatively reached out to rub her back, but before my hand touched her, she hopped up from the couch.

“No more moping,” she coached herself. She rubbed her eyes roughly with her palms. “It’s time to focus on finding your father.”

I was slower to get to my feet.  As much as I wanted to find my dad, I was exhausted and wanted to sleep.  But more than that, right now there was still the possibility that my dad was alive and safe and underground with us.  If we went searching for him, that kernel of hope could be extinguished. He might not be here at all and then what?

“Do you have any ideas?” I asked.  “Just ask everybody we see if they know my dad?”

“There’s got to be a master list of who all is down here, like a phonebook or something.”

“Maybe we should wait until orientation and ask then.” To be honest, I was a little nervous to walk around and explore before we’d gone through a formal acclimation.

“Do you really want to wait?”

I couldn’t tell what her tone was – if she was judging me for delaying or if she was telling me the decision was entirely up to me. “Does that make me a horrible person?” I grimaced. “I’d really love a shower and fresh clothes.  And maybe a long nap.”

“You’re not a horrible person, Sam.  We’ve had some really hard days since leaving Hot Springs. Why don’t we freshen up and recharge?” she suggested. “Then we can start looking for your dad in the morning.”

“I like that idea.”

Nora yanked her top off, revealing her taunt torso and sports bra. When her hands went to the snap on her snowpants, I spun on my heel and looked away.  I knew my cheeks were flushed, and for once, I couldn’t blame the weather.

I could hear the swish of her snowpants rustling and coming off, followed by her deep chuckle. “Getting shy on me, Sammy? It’s not like you haven’t seen all of me before.”

“Yeah, but that was different.”

“You looking for a repeat performance?” she pressed.

My jaw opened and closed a few times, but no response came except for a ridiculous choking noise.  I could tell she was pleased with my reaction.

She stalked toward me, only clad in her sports bra and the black tights she always wore beneath her snowpants.

“I’m gonna test out the shower if you change your mind,” she winked.

She sauntered off in the direction of the single, but spacious bathroom.  I couldn’t help but admire her tight backside and how the muscles in her shoulder blades coiled and flexed as she strode away at an even gait.

I hated not knowing what this thing was between us. Nora could go from somber to flirty in no time at all, but that didn’t mean she liked me or wanted to pursue a relationship. Was she just having fun with me or would she want more than just something physical?  Did she even genuinely like me or was I the recipient of her flirtations because I was conveniently here?

I listened for the telltale sounds of a faucet being turned on and then the shower starting up.  Rather than allow myself to be distracted by mental images of Nora naked in a shower, I busied myself checking out the rest of the apartment.

Besides the bathroom, which was currently off-limits, there were three other rooms.  The large living area included a couch, love seat, coffee table, and flat-screen TV mounted to the wall. There didn’t appear to be a true kitchen besides a thin refrigerator, stove, and single sink, but there was plenty of built-in storage and a square wooden table with four chairs. Everything looked new, but uniform and functional, kind of how I imagined dorm room furniture being.

Out of curiosity I opened one of the top kitchen cabinets. It was stocked with an assortment of dishes enough to host an impressive dinner party.  The fridge and range stove were smaller than the ones my parents had had, but the fridge was stocked with fresh fruits and vegetables. I immediately grabbed a green pear from the crisper drawer.  It was small and hard and tasted a little woody, but I couldn’t have been happier.

I peered up at the overhead lights.  They weren’t traditional track lighting or even halogen bars.  They instead resembled skylights.  You’d never know we were deep beneath the earth’s surface from the look of them.  There was a panel of light toggles near the entrance and a touch-screen panel.  I touched a few buttons experimentally and discovered you could change the settings of the overhead panels to mimic different environments and weather patterns.  One minute it was sunny, the next it could be overcast.  It was a neat trick, one I’m sure the residents appreciated.  I’d underestimated how inventive Mr. West and his team had been when they set up this place.

I did a little more exploring. In addition to the living room and bathroom, there were two bedrooms located on either side of the bathroom, connected by a Jack-and-Jill entrance.  The rooms were smaller than my childhood bedroom, but they were both equipped with beds and a writing desk and chair.  Two twin-sized beds arranged on opposite walls filled one of the rooms.  In the other, a double-sized mattress sat center. I sat down experimentally on the edge of the bed. The linens smelled fresh and were warm to the touch as if the bed had just been made.

I closed my eyes and leaned back until my head hit the pillow.  I took a moment to breathe in deeply and exhale. This was it.  We’d made it.  I might have to pretend to be Nora’s sister for the rest of my life, but I was alive, and I was warm.

In the bathroom the water shut off.  I dreaded having to ask Nora which bedroom she wanted.  Part of me was afraid she’d suggest we share the double bed.  The other part of me was scared she wouldn’t.

“Making yourself comfortable already?”

With my eyes still closed, I felt a little embarrassed that she’d found me like that.

I slowly opened my eyes to see she’d wrapped a fluffy towel tightly around her figure and another was coiled up around her hair. It looked like she hadn’t toweled off properly. Large droplets of water clung to her shoulders and clavicle.  While I was distracted by the water residue, she let the towel drop from her head.

“Your hair!” I gasped. “What did you do?”

“What does it look like?” she retorted. “I cut it.”

“But why?”

“Haven’t you ever just wanted a fresh start? A clean slate?”

I thought about my impulsive decision to kiss Andrea the summer before our junior year and how everything had changed between us, but not for the better. “Yes.”

She ran her fingers through her newly shorn hair, still wet from her shower. “This is a new start for us, Sam. We get to re-invent ourselves. Be who we want to be.”

I touched my fingers to my own hair, limp and dirty from a week on the road, suffocated beneath my ski cap. “I don’t have to cut my hair too, do I?”

She laughed, and it was music to my ears. “You’re a cute one.” She licked her lips. “Why don’t you take a shower and then we can go do some exploring?  We can get something to eat that we didn’t have to kill ourselves.”

As if on command, my stomach growled.  I clutched at my abdomen, self-conscious.

Her expressive mouth twisted into a wry smile.
“Hustle up, Fargo.”

The vanity mirror was still half-fogged from Nora’s earlier shower. I opened the medicine cabinet. The tiny shelves were lined with every convenience. Toothbrushes and toothpaste. Deodorant and aspirin. All signs of civilization.

A pair of scissors sat on the vanity counter.  I touched them.  Tiny bits of Nora’s hair were still stuck between the two blades. The rest of Nora’s hair was in a wastebasket situated between the toilet and the sink.

I reached for the razor, but stopped just short. Should I take the time to shave my legs and other body parts?  Now that we were settled would we resume our happy co-habitation like it had been at the cottage?  Or would I get rejected the moment someone else came along who caught Nora’s eye?  I tried to push those thoughts from my mind.  I still was determined to find my father.  I couldn’t selfishly worry about my romantic life while he was still missing.

+++++

“Oh my God. I want one of everything,” Nora practically groaned. “What are you getting?” she asked, swiveling on her stool to face me.

“A fatty cheeseburger and fatty fatty French fries.” I folded my menu closed and set in on the diner counter.

“Mmm,” Nora hummed approvingly.

“What are you thinking about getting?”

“I told you,” Nora said, going back to eyeballing the laminated menu. “One of everything.”

The waitress, a wide-set woman with dyed ginger curls, drummed her acrylic nails against the counter.  Her uniform included a name pin that announced her name was Grace.

Our food came up not long after.  The smell of ground beef and fried potatoes made my stomach rumble in anticipation.  Grace set our plates in front of us.  It was beautiful. A warm, decadent, and hopefully delicious dinner, and I hadn’t had to kill it and cook it myself.  I could have cried.

I paused before diving face-first into my cheeseburger. “Do you think this is going to be too hard on our stomachs?” We hadn’t had this kind of rich food in months, maybe even in years.  I had no idea what reintroducing French fries to my body was going to do.

Nora rubbed her hands together.  She’d ordered fried chicken and mashed potatoes.  “I don’t care if I’m puking all night.”

“You two are new, huh?” a man seated in our vicinity observed. He had a full beard and arms as thick as tree trunks.  I didn’t like men with facial hair.  I found it too secretive, like they didn’t want anyone to really know what they looked like under all that hair.

“Whatever gave you that idea?” Nora said, cocking her head to one side.  Her long eyelashes fluttered.

“This place isn’t that big. I’m sure I would have noticed you before.” The man, not much older than either of us, leaned perceptively closer.  I didn’t like it.  Not him or his beard.  I shoved a fistful of fries into my mouth to cover my displeasure.

“Well, I just cut my hair,” Nora noted, fluffing at her recently shorn hair.  It was a little uneven in spots, but I thought she still looked as beautiful as ever.  “Maybe that’s what’s throwing you off.”

The man made a humming noise. “Maybe that’s what it is.”  He stuck his beefy hand out.  “I’m Brian.  Brian Stohl.”

Nora took the proffered handshake. “Nora West.  And this,” she said, turning to me, “is my sister Samantha.”

I gave him an obligatory smile with my mouth full of French fries.

He looked less than impressed to make my acquaintance and turned his conversation back to Nora. “So when did you get here?” he asked.  “It must have been recent.  You’re still wearing winter boots.”

I made a mental note that tomorrow we would have to do some shopping so we could diversify our clothing. With our thermal underclothes and heavy boots, we looked like greenhorns.  Nora and Beard-Man continued to make friendly conversation.  I, however, put both elbows on the table and ate my burger and fries before they got cold.

+++++

After dinner we were able to retrace our steps and find our apartment again without having to call Cynthia for help.  I was also thankful that when I used the keycard on our apartment that the door had unlocked without issue.  Part of me worried that whoever was in charge would find out we weren’t really sisters and would kick us out for the deception.

I stopped just inside the front foyer to pull off my boots.

“Are you feeling okay?” Nora asked. “You’ve been awfully quiet since dinner,” she observed.

It was true.  I had spent the entire monorail ride in silence, staring out the window, while Nora had chattered on about sustainable living.  I was interested in what she had to say, but I was bothered that someone had clearly flirted with her at dinner, and while she hadn’t encouraged it, she certainly hadn’t discouraged it either.  I knew I was being ridiculous, but I was jealous and I didn’t know how to tell her without it turning into a conversation that I wasn’t ready to have.  Coward, my brain scolded.

“I suppose I should turn on a light,” I laughed anxiously. I wondered how long it would take to get used to having overhead lights again.

“We don’t really need them,” Nora breathed. I was suddenly aware of how close she stood to me.  She took a breath and placed two fingers gently on my temple. “At this point, I could draw your face in my sleep.”

I closed my eyes, caught up in a spell cast by the rasp of her voice and her velvet touch.  I felt her fingertips slowly move down the side of my face, over my cheek, and along the sweep of my jaw.  I caught my breath with a faint hiss.  The exquisite strokes descended the slope of my throat until her fingers came to rest in the hollow at the base.  They lingered there, as if considering going lower.

I opened one eye to see Nora studying me, gauging my reaction even in the dark. “What…what are you doing?” I asked.

A small, coy smile played at the corners of her generous mouth. “Isn’t this how all dates end?”

I released a deep shuddering breath that I didn’t realize I had been holding in. “I don’t know.  I told you, I wasn’t allowed to date.”

Nora carefully licked her lower lip.  I watched the tip of her tongue swab across its length, and I couldn’t help but imagine what else she could be licking in moments if I ignored the flashing “Danger” signs in my head and obeyed my aching body instead.

“Then let me educate you,” she said simply.

I reached out blindly and finally found the light-switch panel.  When I turned on the overhead light, the spell we’d been temporarily under seemed to dissipate.

“I-I think I need something to drink,” I responded shakily.  “Does coffee sound good?”

Nora nodded. “Sounds perfect.”

“I’ll see if they gave us some.”

Her smile started small, but grew into something alarmingly predatory. “Okay.  But don’t take too long.”

I cringed when I slammed the doors to the kitchen cabinet near the sink with too much enthusiasm.  I opened another set of cabinets and scowled when I came up empty again. Did we even have a coffeemaker? I silently wondered.

I abandoned the hot beverage idea and opened the refrigerator instead.  Milk, pulp-less orange juice, and V8 – not exactly drinks to offer someone late at night.  You could always just offer yourself, I silently mused, but instantly discarded the idea out of embarrassment.

What was I even doing still up at this hour?  I should have just said goodnight and retreated to one of the bedrooms alone so I could over-analyze what had happened tonight.  I opened another cabinet and grimaced at its contents.  I took out the long, slender bottle and prayed I was doing the right thing.

+++++

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

I woke up with a jolt.  I sifted my fingers through a layer of down feathers that covered the head of the bed.  “What the…?” Had I murdered a goose in the middle of the night?

I swung my feet over the edge of the mattress.  The room began to spin, and I pressed my palm into my forehead.  “God,” I groaned. We’d hit that bottle of moonshine pretty hard and now I was feeling the aftereffects.  “Jesus.  What happened last night?” I smacked my lips together.  My mouth felt dry.

Nora’s voice answered my rhetorical question. “You drank a little too much of that poison your boyfriend from Hot Springs packed you,” she said drolly.  I hadn’t even noticed she was in bed next to me.  I must really have been hung-over.

I chose to ignore her comment about Ryan.  As tempted as I was to wonder how the people of Hot Springs were faring because of the few people there who’d shown us kindness, they’d also been responsible for too much heartache.

“Did I do or say anything I shouldn’t have last night?” I worried aloud.  Most of the evening after we’d gotten home from dinner was a complete blank.

“I was worried you were going to be a weepy drunk,
Nora replied, “but the more you drank, the funnier you got.”

I looked down at my state of undress.  “We didn’t, uh, do anything did we?”

The smile on her face morphed into a disappointed frown.  “Don’t tell me you don’t remember that either, Sammy.  It was the single greatest night of my life.  The things your tongue did to me; I didn’t think it was humanly possible.”  She couldn’t keep a straight face for long.

“You’re such an asshole,” I said crossly.

“You should have seen your face,” she grinned cheekily.  “You looked horrified you might not have remembered another roll in the sack with yours truly.”

“Whatever,” I snorted.

She leaned closer and my breath caught in my throat.

“Believe me, lover,” she said, her voice dropped to a low burr.  “No amount of alcohol could make you forget that.”

I wanted to complain about her larger-than-life ego, but instead I found myself trying to suppress a whimper when her hand snaked beneath the sheets and found my upper thigh.  Her short nails slowly raked down my bare skin.  I fully expected Nora to take advantage of our closeness and my nakedness, but she pulled away and simply smiled.

+++++

She sat at the lunch counter, pale hands surrounding a coffee mug.  While others seated at the 24-hour diner where we’d eaten the previous night were bent and hunched over their early morning meals, she sat with her back erect.  Her strawberry blonde hair was short, but just long enough that she could pull it back into a tiny ponytail.  A jumble of bobby pins kept the shorter chunks clamped close to her skull.  Despite her best efforts, a few pieces near the nape of her neck had defiantly sprung free.

I found myself staring at the way the wispy strands curled to hover just over the back of her neck.  She’d haphazardly chopped it off in a fit of desperation and I privately hoped she’d let it grow back.  She still looked like perfection, even without the long cascading curls.  But I couldn’t help but mourn the loss of being able to wrap my fingers around her long hair when we kissed.  If we ever kissed again, that is.

She turned her head slightly when the man seated beside her struck up a conversation.  He was an oversized man with a grizzled beard.  Ugh. Another beard.  Maybe that was Nora’s type.  He vaguely reminded me of a bear.  She smiled, beaming really, as they made conversation.  About what, I couldn’t tell; I was too far away and the clinking of ceramic dishes and morning conversation drowned out their individual voices.

She tugged at the neck of her grey cardigan.  That morning she’d surprised me by producing an entire outfit I hadn’t realized she had. The thin top was impractical for a cross-country trek, but I couldn’t deny how good her arms looked wrapped in the heather grey material, thin with a hint of toned muscle.

“You ready to head back?” I grunted.

Nora smiled placidly.  “Almost.”  She turned back to talk to her new friend.

I cleared my throat, loudly.  “We really should get going, Nora.”

She turned her head to appraise me and arched her eyebrow.  “Right this second?”

I nodded.

She sighed, a big dramatic thing.  “Oh, alright.”  She hopped down from the spinning stool and straightened the neckline on her dress.  That she had packed such an impractical thing in the middle of an apocalypse should have surprised me.  But I knew her too well by now to be surprised by her dedication to appearances.

We walked, side-by-side, arms swinging, in the direction of our shared apartment.

“What’s the big hurry?” she asked me.  Her ballet flats skipped to keep up with my longer, faster strides.

“We have orientation in half an hour.  I don’t want to be late.”

Her front teeth tugged at her lower lip.  “You weren’t jealous that I was talking to that guy at breakfast, were you?”

“Me? Jealous?” I squeaked.  “You really think too highly of yourself.”

She grabbed for me, immediately intertwining our fingers and brought our enjoined hand up to her mouth.  Her breath was warm against my knuckles.  “Not even the tiniest bit jealous, Sammy?”

I’d always hated that nickname – it made me sound too young – but somehow, when it came from such a perfect mouth, it didn’t make me so angry.  I sighed, resigned to the fact that this woman had me wrapped around her annoying little finger.

+++++

Promptly at 9am, Cynthia was at our apartment door.  Not only was she in charge of greeting new additions to New Genesis, she was also in charge of orientation.  When she wasn’t busy with those tasks, she worked at the library.  Our orientation included riding the extensive monorail system from one section of New Genesis to the next.   She showed us the highlights of the underground city – it was more like a pointing tour from the monorail, but it did the job.

“You’ll have to forgive me,” she apologized after about an hour of riding the subway. “My legs aren’t what they used to be.  I’m in the queue for hip surgery in a few weeks, and then I’ll be able to move around better, maybe shed some of these extra pounds.”  She laughed good-naturally and slapped at her thighs for emphasis.

“What did you do before the Frost?” I asked.

“I was retired, but before that I taught preschool.”

“I don’t suppose anyone gets to retire down here,” Nora posited. “Everyone’s got to earn their keep?” she echoed the word’s of the rude woman from above ground.

“Well, it’s not like I could afford to not work above ground either,” Cynthia noted as she tottered over to the next monorail platform. “And this certainly beats being a greeter at Walmart.  Speaking of which, one more stop on our tour,” she announced. “Time to get you two gainfully employed.”

“How exactly does that work?” Nora asked. “Does everyone get paid the same or are there jobs that pay better?”

“Everyone gets paid an equal living stipend in lieu of an hourly wage or salary. We’re certainly not a socialist or communist society because you have consumer options,” she was quick to assert, “but if you go to your job and do your best and don’t miss shifts, everyone gets paid the same.”

“Why was that decision made?” Nora questioned. “It seems like a radical change from the way things used to be.”

Cynthia nodded in agreement. “It was the only way we could convince people to do work they may have deemed beneath them. Not everyone can be a doctor or a lawyer down here. We need people to empty garbage cans and stock the shelves at the grocery store.”

The monorail came to a stop at the Jefferson platform.  The three of us exited on Cynthia’s instruction.

“If you two don’t mind, this is where we part,” she said. “I’ve got to get back to the library.”

“Yeah, we can find our way back. Thank you, Cynthia.” Nora said, taking the woman’s hand in hers.  “It was a very thorough tour.”

Her face lit up with a smile. “If you have other questions, don’t hesitate to give me a call or drop by the library.”

“Actually, I do have one more question, Cynthia,” Nora announced. “Are we allowed to leave?”

“What do you mean?”

“If we decide that this place isn’t for us,” Nora clarified, “are we allowed to leave?”

Cynthia blinked a few times behind her owlish glasses. “Of course.  But why would you want to?”

“I have one more question, too,” I blurted out. “Is there a master list somewhere of who’s down here? Like a phone book or something?” I had no intention of telling her I was looking for my father; my pretend father, Jerry West, was dead. But if anyone had the answer to my question I figured it would be the woman put in charge of orientation.

Cynthia looked momentarily thoughtful. “That's a good question. We get newcomers every few weeks, so there’s nothing physically printed. It would be obsolete almost as soon as the ink dried. Once people are assigned to an apartment, their address and phone number are recorded digitally,” she told us. “There's a search feature on your TV for that.”

After a few more thank you’s and reassurances that we’d stop by the library to say hi sometime, we shook hands and parted ways.

“Ready to get a job?” I asked Nora.

She stared at the closed door that read “Human Resources.” “I feel unprepared for a job interview. I don’t have a resume and I’m hardly in professional clothing.”

“Relax,” I said, taking her hand. “You look amazing. I’m sure you’re gonna get a great job.”

Her eyelashes fluttered.  “I look amazing, huh?”

“Nothing gets past you,” I grumbled.

She gave my hand a squeeze before releasing it.  I don’t know what had possessed me to hold her hand in the first place, but it had felt right.

+++++

“You’ve got to be kidding me," Nora drawled. “You're in charge of HR?”

The woman from above ground who’d been so rude before stood up from behind a desk. “Yes.  Me.  Is there a problem?”

“No,” I quickly jumped in.  “It’s just unexpected, that’s all.  I don’t think either of us was expecting to see you again so soon.” I tried to soften the brashness of Nora’s tone.  She’d been so polite and friendly up until now.

“Everyone pulls their weight in West Genesis,” the woman explained, “even me.  Please, have a seat.” She motioned to the two chairs near us. “I know we’ve met before, informally, but let me introduce myself.  My name is Lisa Winters.  And you are?”

“Nora and Samantha West,” Nora stated robotically.

The woman pressed her lips together. “Yes. That’s what you said above ground.  How about the truth now?”

Nora visibly tensed beside me. “What?”

“Who are you really?” Lisa inquired. “The records we have on Jerry West indicate he had one daughter, not two.”

My stomach tightened. “My name is Samantha Poulsen. She’s Nora West.”  I swallowed.  “Are you going to kick me out?”

“I’m not going to kick you out, Miss Poulsen. I just wanted the truth.  So thank you for being forthright.”

“Well since there’s no more secrets,” I said. “I was wondering if you could help me with something. Did a man named Brandon Poulsen come to the above ground entrance?  It would probably have been around the time Nora and I got here – maybe a day or two before.”

“Poulsen,” Lisa repeated. “He’s related to you?”

“He’s my dad,” I confirmed.

“No one by that name showed up during my shifts,” Lisa said.  Her voice almost sounded apologetic.  It was the first human emotion she’d shown us. “I'm obviously not there around the clock though.  I’ll check with the others.”

“He might have used another name,” Nora noted. “Maybe my dad’s name, or at least he might have mentioned my dad’s name.”

“I’ll check and let you know,” Lisa said with a curt nod.  “In the meantime, let’s set you up with some jobs.” She eyeballed the two of us. “If you’re serious about staying, that is.”

“We’re serious,” I confirmed.

Lisa spun a pen between her fingers. “Any special skills or training I should know about before I give you your jobs?”

“We’re assigned to jobs?” Nora spoke up.  “Isn’t there a list of greatest needs and then we can apply to the ones we’re most interested in?”

Lisa stopped spinning her pen. “No. It doesn’t work that way. I know our areas of greatest need and as head of HR, I position you where I find it most appropriate. So, special skills or training?” she asked again.

I had no idea what to say. I had no special skills, no advanced training. “Uh...”

“Sam is an expert at survival skills,” Nora supplied for me. “She can live off the land with barely any survival gear. I know I never would have made it this far without her help.”

I looked over fondly at Nora.  She had her intense gaze leveled on Lisa, but I gave her an appreciative smile regardless.

Lisa wrote down a few notes without comment. “And you, Miss West?  Is there anything you’re particularly skilled at?”

I cleared my throat, nearly choking because I half expected Nora to make a thinly veiled sexual comment.  Instead, she maintained her professional composure.  “I graduated from Smith College, summa cum laude, with a degree in environmental sustainability with a minor in food systems.”

Lisa made a humming noise as she wrote on her legal pad.  She set her pen down and finally looked up to address us again. “I’ll let you know.”

“What do we do now?” I asked.

Lisa shrugged. “Now you do whatever you’d like until you get your job assignment and schedule.”

“And how long will that take?” Nora questioned.

“Not long. I’ll send a message to your apartment before the end of the work day today.”

It was clear she was through with us, so I tugged on Nora’s hand before she said something to get us in trouble.  She’d recovered from the initial shock of seeing a familiar face, but I didn’t want to press our luck in case she shed her polite veneer again.

“Oh and girls,” Lisa called after us before we had left the office, “it’s up to you if you want to keep telling people you’re sisters – it doesn’t matter to me either way – but if you do, you may want to refrain from making out in public.”

I thought about Lisa’s parting advice as we our way back to the apartment.  Nora and I hadn’t kissed in public.  We hadn’t done anything except for maybe an innocent touch here and there and a hand squeeze once in a while.

“Do you think there’s surveillance cameras in our apartment?” I asked as we rode the monorail back to our new home.

“I doubt it. It would be a waste of energy,” Nora reasoned.”

“Then why did Lisa say that about us?”

Nora shrugged. “She probably just saw you getting all jealous this morning when I was talking to that guy at breakfast.”

I snorted. “Whatever.”

+++++

I turned on the television while I waited for Nora to emerge from her shower.  It was her second one of the day.  I hadn’t commented on it, but she told me she was having a hard time feeling completely clean. Watching reruns wouldn’t keep my mind from drifting to thoughts of her wet and naked with just a door dividing us, but it was better than nothing.

Whatever I was watching, one of those cop-detective dramas, was interrupted by a blue screen.  It looked like we’d received a text message or email over the television.  I grabbed the TV remote and followed the instructions on the screen.

“The TV’s doing something weird,” I called out when I heard the water shut off in the bathroom. “I think it’s our job assignments.”

Nora came out of the bathroom, toweling off her hair. “What’s it say?”

“Nothing. I mean, nothing that makes sense at least. It’s just our names and then some numbers and letters.”

I glanced over at Nora.  She was completely naked.  “Nora!” I sputtered.

She wrapped her short hair up in the towel. “What?”

“You’re naked!”

“And the award for most observant goes to...” She inspected the message on the screen. “Do you suppose it’s an address or coordinates of some kind?”

I still couldn’t get over the fact that she was stark naked.  Sure, I’d seen her naked before at the cabin, but there had been blankets and the lighting had been dim.  Here, under the bright lights of our apartment, there was nothing to hide every dip and curve and gentle swell.  She hadn’t dried off fully and water droplets clung to her skin. It was ridiculous, but I was jealous of that water.

“Earth to Sam.”

I shook my head violently hoping the motion would shake away the image of me on my knees and licking those errant drops from her inner thighs like someone who’d been lost in the desert suddenly drinking water for the first time.

“Huh?”

“Do you think those are addresses?” Nora asked again.

I shrugged, not trusting myself to not say something incriminating.

“Well, I guess we’ll find out in the morning.  What do you want to do in the meantime?” She wiggled her eyebrows at me suggestively.

“You could always put clothes on.”

The playful look on her face faded away. “You don’t like the view?”

I was too chicken to have a serious conversation with her about sex and romance and us.  For now it seemed like we were destined to keep tip-toeing around the topic with her shamelessly flirting and me blushing furiously in response.

“Speaking of clothes,” Nora said, still not bothering to cover herself up, “Cynthia said we had money on our keycards for things besides food, right?”

“Yeah,” I confirmed. “What did you have in mind?”

Her aqua eyes glimmered. “I think it’s time for a shopping spree.”

+++++

It wasn’t really a shopping spree – not one of those no limitations, buy anything you want, kind of excursion that I’m sure Nora would have preferred. We decided we’d each buy just one or two new outfits since our thermal underclothes were out of place and unnecessary. Convincing me that we needed new clothes had taken very little persuasion from Nora. If there was something I had desperately wanted all my life, it was to feel like I belonged – to feel like I fit in.

I was sure the lone women’s clothing store in West Genesis was a disappointment to Nora, but unlike the girl I had met weeks ago, this one didn’t seem to complain about trivial things anymore.  There was a uniformity, function not fashion, to the clothes available. I imagined most people here had had the advantage of bringing their entire household underground, including their wardrobes, so there wasn’t much demand for high fashion or designer labels.

We shuffled through the racks of clothes in relative silence.  There were a few other shoppers, but none of them made eye contact or looked interested in acknowledging our presence.  I’d noticed that about most people we saw. With the exception of the men who flirted with Nora at the diner, people tended to keep to themselves. The sole woman who worked at the store sat behind the front register station, not looking up from her book. I guessed she wasn’t paid on commission.

Nora grabbed a few items from the clothing racks – a sweater, some jeans, and what looked like a dress. “Can I try these on?” she announced in the direction of the store’s only employee.

The woman looked startled to have been addressed, but she nodded and pointed toward the rear of the shop. “Fitting rooms are in the back.”

Nora turned to me. “Find anything?”

I had never been too interested in fashion, so clothes shopping was one of my least favorite activities.  Without really looking at fit or size, I pulled a few things off their shelves and racks. “Sure.”

I followed the slight sway of Nora’s backside to the fitting rooms.   She’d taken off the sweater and dress from earlier and had returned the black, skintight thermal outfit that was normally hidden beneath layers of snow gear.  My lower lip found its way between my top and bottom teeth as I let my gaze fall to her spandex-encased backside.  No wonder that man at dinner had been drawn to her.  It was a good thing she’d been sitting down or we might never have shaken loose of him.

She stopped and I nearly ran into her, fully distracted by the view.  “Wanna share a dressing room?” she asked. The fitting rooms were individual stalls partitioned by half walls with curtains as doors.

I cleared my throat.  “Uh, I’ll just go in this one.”  I darted into a vacant stall and quickly pulled the curtain door shut.  I thought I heard Nora chuckle, but I couldn’t tell.

“Sammy?" Nora’s voice called to me.

I finished pulling on a sweater that didn’t look terrible on me. “Yeah?”

“Can you zip me up?”

I abandoned my own search for clothes to go next door and help.  I knocked as best as I could on the curtained door.  The sheet of fabric was thrown back to reveal Nora in a state of half dress. The dress she’d chosen to try on was light yellow and it hit mid-thigh.  She hadn’t been able to zip up the back and stood with her hands pressing the top of the dress against her chest.

I licked my lips and indicated for her to turn around so I could get to her zipper.  She did so and I nearly choked on my tongue.  Gone was the practical sports bra, replaced by a delicate lace undergarment whose light pink color nearly matched the tone of her peach skin.

Without thinking, my fingers traced along the bottom of the bra’s back where the double-hook fasten was located. Her skin seemed to tremble beneath my touch.

“When did you get this?” My voice sounded foreign to my ears.  It was far too deep and raspy to be my own.

“I’ve always had it,” she murmured. “I’ve just never had an opportunity to wear it.  Do you...do you like it?”

My knees nearly gave out.

She seemed to have forgotten the reason she’d called me over to help her.  Or maybe she hadn’t needed my help at all.  She spun to face me.  “Sam.”  She said my name, breathy and full of reverence.  I swallowed back a telling whimper. “When are you going to kiss me again?”

I didn’t need to be asked twice.  I grabbed her firmly by the hips and heard the breath hitch in her throat. I felt momentarily smug, enjoying the fleeting surprise in her eyes.  I let go of her right hip just long enough to reach behind me so I could jerk the dressing room curtain closed.

Without boots on she was a few inches shorter than me.  I dipped my head just slightly to accommodate the height difference.  My nose slid along hers on my way to her mouth.  At first, the kiss was slow and hesitant, just her pliant lips molding to mine, feeling warm and tender.  Her tongue brushed against my bottom lip, not demanding entry, but testing.  When my lips parted and her tongue slipped between them, there was a sense of exploratory wonder that ripened into something hungry.  It became more than a kiss that said “I want you.”  Instead, it was a kiss that said “I need you.”

She was soft and perfumed and I was doing everything I could to play it cool when all I wanted to do was pant and beg for her to touch me in return.  I licked up the fine column of her neck.  She arched into me, groaning like she didn't care that we had an audience just beyond the closed curtain.

“Sam,” she panted. She grabbed me by the neck of the sweater that didn’t look too ridiculous on me and pulled me up to eye-level. “I…You surprised me.”

I audibly swallowed.  I could feel my heart working too hard, pumping hot blood throughout my body.  Maybe I’d been too eager.

“Sam,” she panted again. “Take me home.”

The monorail ride back to our apartment was less than a four-minute trip, but it felt like four-minutes too long.  I didn’t trust myself to sit next to her, the urge to feel her skin too palpable, so I purposely plopped down on the bench across the aisle from where Nora sat.  I didn’t want to be obvious on the train, not knowing the community’s level of tolerance or even Nora’s level of comfort with PDAs.

I stole furtive glances at her during the commute.  She smiled back at me, fully aware of what had to have been a hungry gaze on my part.

+++++

“So.  Do I have to wait until the third date?”

We stood outside the apartment door and I didn’t know where to put my hands, so I settled for cramming them into the back pockets of the jeans I had just bought.

“I think we can overlook that one little rule this time,” she smiled. She grabbed onto my elbow and pulled me inside.

The door closed and our mouths met, tentatively, as if we hadn’t done this before.  It was like I was rediscovering her body even though I knew it well.  Our clothes were quickly abandoned, scattered across the floor on the way to the bedroom like an odd patchwork quilt of cotton-blends and denim.

I gently eased her body down on the soft duvet and allowed my eyes to drink in her nakedness before taking a seat on the bed next to her reclined form.  I ran my right hand along the length of her naked body and she arched her back to meet my touch.

But my body was trembling and she noticed.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, sitting up.  Her gorgeous aquamarine eyes were filled with concern.

“I-I don’t want to mess this up,” I admitted to her softly.

Her hand moved up to touch the side of my face, and I closed my eyes, unable to hold back the sigh that left my lips.  Her fingers tangled in my hair and she pulled me in for a searing kiss.  Her mouth moved magically against mine.  But as good as it felt, I needed more.  I needed more of her touch.  I needed more of her body.  I regained my confidence and pushed her back down on the bed.  Her short, strawberry-blonde hair fanned out on the comforter, framing her angelic face like a golden-red halo.

I hovered above her body, holding myself up with my arms and toes like a frozen push-up.  I leaned down to capture her lips again in a gentle kiss, and she moaned into my mouth when my naked breasts brushed against her own chest.  I could feel her hard nipples pressing into my skin and I shivered.  I lowered myself just a little more, still not resting all of my weight on top of her, even though I knew she could take it.

I ground my naked sex into hers and groaned when I felt her arousal spread against me.  I wanted to taste the source of that arousal, but I wanted to take my time.  I continued to slowly grind into her, moving my hips in small circles.

“Fuck, Sammy. That feels so good,” she softly sighed.  She rubbed the bottoms of her feet against my bare calves, opening herself up even more to me.

I wedged my right knee between her slender thighs and rested my own thigh tight against her sex.  She closed her eyes and bit the bottom of her lip, groaning in the most delicious way.  I loved the noises she made; she never held herself back.  I pushed up into her wet sex, pulling out more of those sighs and murmurs from her enticing mouth.

“Please,” she whispered, her breath hot against my ear.  “Touch me, Sam.  I need you so much,” she begged.

I reached between our bodies and slid my fingers through her shaved wetness.  I couldn’t help the moan that escaped my lips when I felt just how wet she was for me.  I wanted her to saturate my skin.  I wanted to drown in her arousal.  I slipped through her silken folds and she pushed up against me, her pelvic bone roughly bumping against my own enflamed core.  I dropped my head down and bit where her neck met her collarbone to keep from crying aloud.  I wanted to leave my mark all over her body to show the world that she belonged to me.

She whimpered and her hips thrust slightly to receive more friction against the movements of my hand.  I could feel her wetness pooling on her inner thighs.  I knew she wanted me to touch her clit, but I needed to feel more of her before giving in to her immediate needs.

“Inside,” she panted, telling me exactly what she wanted.  Her hands clawed desperately against my naked back.  “Inside me.”

I bit my bottom lip and slowly slid my middle finger inside her wet core.  Feeling her like this was making me painfully aroused like I’d never experienced before.  She was swallowing me whole and I didn’t mind at all.

I buried my finger deep inside her and cupped her sex with the rest of my hand.  From this position I could slowly thrust inside her and simultaneously rub her clit with my palm.  Her wetness clicked all around me, filling my ears with its rhythmic harmony.

She gasped sharply and grabbed my ears unexpectedly to pull my face back down and capture my mouth in another desperate kiss.  She thrust her tongue inside my mouth.  I knew she was close.  I could feel her tightening and pulsing hot around my single digit.

She wrapped her legs around my lower body and pulled frantically on my forearm, encouraging me to thrust harder and deeper inside her.  Her moans were replaced by groans as I quickened my pace.  My body was overheating; I could feel the sweat trickling down my back as I pushed my body to its limit. I closed my eyes and concentrated on her voice; I focused on pushing her over the edge.

And when I succeeded, she looked up at me beneath those luscious, thick eyelashes with a small, post-orgasmic smile curled on her satisfied mouth.  I slowly rolled off of her sweaty form and onto my back for a breather; but she quickly found her second wind, and I found myself covered in her body like a human blanket.

She stared down at me with those devastating aqua eyes.  Her gaze was full of promises that I was too scared to hope for.

+++++

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The next morning we were to report for our first day of work.  It was unsettling when we parted, each of our respective new jobs in a different part of West Genesis.  It made me realize that we hadn’t been apart from each other for any extended amount of time since we’d met. Even in Hot Springs we had always managed to run into each other after an hour or so.

I was nervous. All I had was an address.  And even at that it was simply coordinates, not an actual street name with numbers.  I fiddled with the hem of my new sweater and shifted in my jeans. I doubted my ability to just fit back into some kind of civilized society. Even wearing normal clothes had become confining.

I rode the red line to its last stop – the Washington platform. When I exited the underground train I was blasted in the face with a shock of cold air.  I hadn’t thought I’d need my winter jacket for work, but now I was lamenting leaving it behind. The lowered temperature made me even more nervous than I had been before.

The train had stopped in a large empty bunker that looked industrial compared to the entertainment section of West Genesis –the Blue sector – where we ate our meals and had shopped for our new clothes.  For a moment I worried I’d misinterpreted the directions. I thought about going back to the train and heading back to our apartment, but the monorail left the platform back towards the compound’s more populated areas.

I saw a man heading toward a nearly hidden metal door.  I watched him use his keycard on an electronic sensor located by the door’s handle. The sensor light went from red to green and he opened the door.

My voice was caught in my throat, but I hustled over to the door. It shut in my face, too late. I took out my keycard and experimentally moved it back and forth in front of the sensor like I’d seen the man do. The light switched from red to green and I heard the door unlock.  Before it could relock, I grabbed the door handle and yanked.  On the other side of the door was a metal ladder that went up.  I looked up the dimly lit shaft, but it was too dark to see how far up the ladder went and what was at the top.  I had another urge to turn around and wait for the next train to come by, but I shoved those emotions away and began to climb up.

The ladder was metal and cold against the bare skin of my hands.  I climbed up, rung after rung, and my winter boots made an echoed sound with every step.  I reached the top of the ladder, a point at which I could no longer go any higher because there was now a ceiling above me.  I pushed tentatively against the metal ceiling until I felt it give.  A square section swung up on hinges like I was crawling out of a sewer through a manhole.

It was colder still once I moved the trapdoor out of the way. I found myself in a new part of West Genesis, and it teemed with activity.

“You look lost,” a young woman said.  She was bundled up in winter gear and appraised my own outfit of sweater and jeans with amusement.

“I’m not sure if this is where I’m supposed to be for work,” I told her truthfully. “I’m new.”

“HR assigned you a job?”

I nodded and pulled back the sleeve of my sweater where I’d written down the coordinates I’d received yesterday.

She grabbed my arm and twisted it so she could read the numbers. “Run out of paper?” she chuckled.  When her eyes crinkled at the corners, a hidden dimple made itself visible.

It might have been cold wherever we were, but I could still feel my cheeks burn with embarrassment. “I’m still getting acclimated,” I mumbled.

She gave me a half-smile, the corner of her pink lips lilting up. “Sorry. I’m just giving you a hard time.  I’m Jazmin. And you’re in the right place.  Welcome to the Retrieval Team.”

Retrieval turned out to be a group of scavengers.  It was our job to go above ground and salvage what we could.

“Here.” Jazmin pulled a heavy jacket with a fur-fringed hood out of a nearby metal locker. “You can borrow my spare jacket for today. Just be sure you bring a jacket for tomorrow.”

“Thanks.” I pulled the jacket on.  It was a little big on me, particularly in the chest area, but it would work. “I’m sorry I didn’t know to bring my own,” I said gratefully. “No one told me what I’d be doing.”

Jazmin chuckled. “Sounds like Lisa Winter’s handy-work. You must’ve pissed her off for her to have been so vague with your assignment.”

“Yeah, I don’t think she likes my...” I trailed off, unsure of what label to give Nora. What were we to each other? “…roommate,” I finally decided on.

“Let me show you your sled.”

We walked up to a long row of snowmobiles. There had to be at least be 50 or so.

"Holy cow. Where do you get the gas for all of these things?” I asked, openly impressed with the number of snowmobiles.

“They’re electric.” Jazmin pointed toward a giant electrical panel. “It’s pretty fancy.  No one knows exactly how it works, but the machines plug into that circuit board thingy.  They charge at night and in the morning, they’re ready for our use.”

“Circuit board thingy, eh?” I lightly teased.

She smirked. “I don’t need to know how it works.  I just know that it does.”

All told, there were about 100 people on the Retrieval Team.  Jazmin and two other guys, Charlie and Greg, were the members of my immediate team.  Jazmin was kind and patient and thorough while Charlie and Greg laughed a lot and teased me good naturedly.  They reminded of the kind of guys I used to hang out with back at home.  Today, our task was to loop in a twenty-mile radius and to be on the lookout for people to save.  Jazmin told me our daily task, but Greg translated.

“Today, we get to fool around on the snowmobiles,” he laughed. “There’s never anyone out there.” He removed two keys from a metal cabinet lined with rows and rows of similar keys and tossed one of them to Charlie.  Each key was tagged with a number that I suspected corresponded to a specific vehicle.

“They found people in the beginning,” Jazmin said, defending the importance of our job. “Things have slowed down lately though,” she said with a small frown.

“And we do that everyday?” I asked.  They must not have been too good at their job because I hadn’t heard snowmobile engines or even seen snowmobile tracks in the snow. Although I probably would have just hid if I’d seen a group of people on snowmobiles.

“Just for today,” Greg chimed in. “Teams rotate tasks daily, so it doesn’t get too boring.  Sometimes we go into small towns and look for supplies to bring back, sometimes we get to track animals.”

“And sometimes we get to goof off,” Charlie said matter of factly. He climbed onto a two-seater snowmobile and turned the key in the ignition.  It was pretty fancy.  My family had only ever had those tug-rope starters like a chainsaw or lawnmower.

“Hop on,” Charlie told me.  He tossed a black snowmobile helmet in my direction.

I snatched the helmet out of the air and rested it against my hip. “Why do you get to drive?” Oh god. I was turning into Nora.

“You know how to handle one of these things?” he asked, looking amused.

“I grew up in North Dakota,” I snorted, pulling on the helmet and attaching the chin strap. “We drive snowmobiles out of the womb.”

It was a bit of a graphic exaggeration, yes, but I’d been driving a snowmobile on my own since I was 13.  When snow covers the ground for nearly half the year, learning to drive a snowmobile takes priority over things like parallel parking. I’d learned how to parallel park between two snow piles in the Walmart parking lot.

Charlie scooted backwards so he was sitting on the two-up seat. “It’s all yours.”

I climbed on and his arms went around my waist. “Woah, woah, woah,” I yelled over the thin sound of the electric motor. “Don’t you have something else to hold onto?”

He dropped his hands to the handles for the passenger and didn’t say another word. I didn’t want to make a big deal about it, but I didn’t know this guy. What made him think it was okay to cling onto me?

I revved the engine and waved to Greg and Jazmin on the other snowmobile to indicate we were ready to go.

I tightened my grip on the accelerator and the snowmobile jerked forward.  For an electric motor I was impressed with its pick-up.

We zipped forward, effortlessly catching up with Greg and Charlie.  It was a rush. Maybe things were finally starting to look up.

+++++

I was in an awfully good mood when I got back to the apartment.  I didn’t know if I should chalk it up to a good work day or the fact that I got to go “home” to a wildly attractive woman.  I assumed the latter.  They’d even given me back my confiscated hunting knife because of my job.  I resisted the urge to yell “honey, I'm home!” when I entered the apartment and saw Nora’s boots by the front door.

She was just exiting the bathroom, toweling off her recently shortened hair with another towel wrapped around her torso.  More urges came over me that I successfully ignored.

“How was work?” I asked, pulling off my boots and dropping them by the door near hers.

Her nose crinkled up. “I’m a waitress.”

“What?”

Nora made a frustrated noise and tossed the towel she’d been using to dry her hair onto the floor. “I’m so pissed off,” she growled, stamping her foot for emphasis.

“Did you talk to Lisa in HR about it?”

“I called her as soon as I got home. She said that with my background in food that waitressing would be perfect.  I said food systems, not food service,” she steamed.  “She did this on purpose to me.”

“Maybe there’s someone else higher up the food chain you could talk to about it,” I suggested.

“I called Cynthia, and she said I could take it to the CEO.”

“West Genesis has a CEO?”

“Apparently.”

“Then set up a meeting with this person.” It sounded pretty straight-forward enough.  I was sure it wouldn’t have been the first time Nora had gone above someone’s head to get what she wanted.

“Let’s go out,” I suggested. “We can explore a little more.”

Nora stuck out her bottom lip. “I’m not going to be good company.”

“Are you ever?” I immediately held up my hands, surrendering.  “I’m kidding! I’m kidding!”

She didn’t look amused by my joke.

“Come on,” I cajoled. “It’ll be more fun than sulking around here. You can put in a work transfer in the morning.”

Nora tugged on her short hair. “But I can’t get the smell of fried food out of my hair,” she pouted. “I’ve already washed it twice.”

“You’re probably imagining it.”

Nora stomped up to me and, grabbing a chunk of her hair, thrust it under my nose. I inhaled. There was no lingering stench of fried foods – just the sweet perfumed scent of Nora. My eyes involuntarily fluttered.

“Yup,” I panted. “All in your head.”

My answer satisfied her. She stomped in the direction of the bedroom we shared to finish getting ready.

+++++

Outside of our apartment we didn’t get too far before my stomach started growling.  Life on the road had been hard and food had been scarce and now I think my body was trying to make up for lost calories.

Nora eyeballed me and my slab of meat. My mother would have been horrified at my disregard for table manners, but it was the most amazing, tender steak I’d ever had.

“Did you know that in the 19th century, people equated food intake with sexual appetite?” Nora said.  “If you wolfed down your food in public, people assumed you were a nymphomaniac.”

I curled my lip at her. “You're making that up.”

She delicately stabbed her leafy salad. “I take history very seriously.”

I hesitated with my fork hovering over my plate. “You don’t think I’m a nympho, do you?”

Nora grabbed my knee under the table. “Let’s be serious, Sammy,” she said leaning in, “I'm the one jumping you, not the other way around.”

I cleared my throat and proceeded to push my mashed potatoes across my plate.  Could I be brave and use this opportunity to talk about feelings and what exactly we were to each other?  It wasn’t that I wasn’t enjoying whatever we were doing, but I liked labels. I liked boundaries and parameters. I knew how to act when there were rules in place.

My contemplating was interrupted when I heard a familiar, jovial voice. “Hey! It’s the New Girl.”

I looked up from my half-eaten meal to see my work crew, Jazmin, Charlie, and Greg.  Greg was waving wildly at me. I momentarily felt bad that they hadn’t invited me along if they were planning on going out together after work, but I’d only been on the job for one day. It would take longer than that to break into their clique.

“Friends of yours?” Nora asked.

“Play nice,” I said under my breath. “I work with them.”

Nora’s hand left my knee. I instantly hated my new co-workers.

“Hey guys,” I waved them over.

“Who’s this?” Charlie asked, nodding at Nora. “Scoot over, New Girl.”

“This is my, uh…my...” There was that word again. “This is Nora.” I made room in the booth for the newcomers. “Nora, this is Jazmin, Charlie, and Greg.”

“Nice to meet you.”  She said the words, but nothing in her tone or her facial expression supported the validity of her statement. It amazed me that there were moments when this girl could pour on the charm, light up a room with her presence, and make you feel like you were the only good thing in this world. And other times, like right now, when her disapproving stare rivaled the icy weather outside.

“Nice to meet you,” Charlie said, leaning closer to Nora and attempting to ooze charm.

“And I’m even nicer to meet,” Greg contributed.

Jazmin rolled her eyes. “I don’t know why I hang out with these two.  It’s like a zoo sometimes with all the peacock’ing going on.”

Nora’s mouth twisted into a peculiar smile and I felt her gaze steady on me.  “I guess it’s a good thing I’m not into feathers.”

+++++

“Would it kill you to be nice to people?” I threw my keycard on the kitchen table.  After an awkward ending to our interrupted dinner, we’d come straight back to the apartment rather than do any additional exploring.

“I’m nice to you,” Nora shrugged. “Sometimes.”

“Have you always been this anti-social?” She had been rude to Ryan in Hot Springs and now she was being rude to my new co-workers, too.

Nora looked frustrated as she yanked off her boots. “I’m not going to pretend to be interested in other people or look for things we have in common when I have no intention of making friends.”

“Why not?” I challenged.

“Because I’m not staying.”

“What?”

“I can’t live down here. Why should we be the privileged ones while everyone else suffers above ground?”

I didn’t have an answer for her.  There was no justifiable reason why we should be among those safe in the belly of the earth.  I had no great talent, no specialized skill or training.  At least Nora had a degree in sustainability.  She could make biodiesel out of bacon grease or something like that.

“Are you sure this isn’t because Lisa gave you a waitressing job?” I challenged. Part of me wondered if any place would ever be good enough for her.  She’d found flaws with Hot Springs even before we found out they’d killed my mother, and now she was picking apart the Garden of Eden.  The only time she hadn’t complained about a place was our little cottage in the Montana woods.

“No. This has nothing to do with her. We’re only here because my dad happened to own the right company and won a government contract.”

“I know, but...” I honestly had no response. Any reason justifying why we should be saved over anyone else sounded weak and self-serving.  I wasn’t any better than anyone else.  I was just the winner of an unlikely lottery of sorts.

“Come with me.”

“But my dad –.”

“Isn’t here,” she cut me off.

“Maybe it’s just taking him longer to get here.”

She shook her head. “Even if he somehow found the store entrance to West Genesis, what are the chances that they’d even let him in?”

“I’ll ask Lisa if she’ll leave a note that they should let him in,” I suggested. “I’m sure we can work something out.”

“Yeah. Whatever,” she stated dully, clearly not listening to me anymore.  “I’m going to bed.”

I wasn’t sleepy, but I didn’t want her to go to bed angry and alone.  Before I could make up my mind though, she’d already slipped into the bedroom we’d been sharing.  The door closed behind her silently.  I sighed, looking at the closed door that divided us.  I knew I should go in there and talk to her, but I didn’t know how to make people feel better – I was completely inept at consoling people.  Melancholy just made me nervous and uncomfortable.

I sat down on the stiff couch feeling as rigid as the foam cushions.

+++++

After hours of watching re-runs, I slid into bed as unobtrusively as I could. Her body heat beside me was familiar and comforting. I inched my legs closer.

“Your feet are freezing,” I heard her grumble.

I quickly jerked my feet back to their original spot.

She rolled over in bed so she was facing me.  I could just make out the outline of her face to know that she was looking at me.  My eyes weren’t yet adjusted to the dark and there was no moonlight creeping through a window. There was only a small nightlight that struggled to throw off any light.

“I’m sorry I was rude to your new friends.” She sounded contrite.

“I don’t really care about them,” I admitted. “Those guys are kind of meatheads.” I could almost feel her smile. “But it would probably be a good idea to make some friends down here. We can’t just keep to ourselves.”

“Why not?” She didn’t sound defiant, just truly curious. “We were fine with just the two of us before.”

“Yeah, but that was only like a week,” I pointed out. “This is the rest of our lives.”

“So you really believe the Frost isn’t going to end?” She couldn’t mask how small and tight her voice had become.  I knew she was still holding out hope that this freeze wasn’t permanent.

I pushed out a deep sigh. “Not in our lifetime.”

She was quiet then, thinking.

“Will you try to make friends?” I asked again. “I certainly like having you all to myself, but I think it would be good for you.”

“I’ll try harder.”

I went to sleep believing that things would only get better from now on.

When my alarm went off the next morning, the room was dark and I was snuggled warm in bed. It was the worst combination and it reminded me of winter days in Williston when my mother couldn’t drag my teenage body out of bed to get to school on time.  I hit the alarm off instead of the taunting Snooze button.  It was my second day of work; I couldn’t be late and make a bad impression.  I didn’t know what happened if you got fired down here – if they reassigned you or if you simply got kicked out of the compound.  Either way, I didn’t want to find out.

I rolled over in bed, taking half of the covers with me. My body had gotten too accustomed to sleeping bags I tended to get sheets and comforters wrapped around me like a cocoon.  I pried my arm free from the tight blanket cocoon I’d unintentionally constructed and reached out for Nora.  Eyes still closed, I felt for her in the dark. Nothing.  The sheets felt warm though, so I wasn’t concerned. She was probably in the bathroom or making breakfast.  I hoped there’d be coffee.

I stretched, yawned, and scratched at my head.  My hair was wild from sleep. I had baby fine blonde hair and any sort of tussle in the night knotted and crimped my stubborn hair until I ran a brush through it or took a shower. One of the benefits of wearing a knit cap nearly 24/7 was never having to fix your hair. But in exchange for the hot shower I would enjoy that morning, I suppose I could deal with the hassle.

The living room was dark when I wandered out of the bedroom, but I managed to find the light control panel.

“Nora?” I called out.  I waited for her voice, but heard nothing.

I looked in the bathroom, in the extra bedroom, but there was nothing, no sign of her or even a note letting me know that she’d gone out.  I wasn’t her keeper; I didn’t have the right to demand to know where she was at all times, but that didn’t mean her absence didn’t annoy me.  She could have at least left a note.

I got ready for the morning, still feeling annoyed. I kept waiting for her to burst into the apartment and exclaim how late she was going to be for work and how the line at the coffee shop had been so long or that she’d gotten lost on the way back. I waited as long as I could for her to show up, but I didn’t want to be late on only my second day at work. When she still hadn’t returned, I wrote her a note (even though she hadn’t found it important enough to leave one for me), telling her I’d gone to work and that I’d see her at the end of the day.

Eight hours later, she was still missing.  A feeling of dread settled in my gut when I unlocked the door to our apartment. That uneasiness heightened and intensified when I entered the living room and neither saw nor heard Nora.

“Nora? Are you here?”

I started to panic when I realized that I was once again alone in the apartment. I didn’t know who to alert or even how to alert them or if her continued absence from the apartment was even worth fretting over.

I picked up the landline and stared at the phone as the dial tone hummed in my ear.  I hung the phone back up.  I jotted off another note for Nora telling her that I was looking for her and that she should stay in the apartment until I got back.  I grabbed my keycard and was out the door again.  My stomach kept doing somersaults as I rode the subway train to the only person I knew that might be able to help me.

The library was located just a few stops from our apartment, jammed between the residential and the entertainment sectors.  West Genesis itself was generally quiet, most people kept to themselves in public spaces on their way to or from work, and the library, predictably, was no different.  I had to use my keycard to get inside and walked in to the quiet, constant clicking of people on computers.

That the internet would still exist even in West Genesis shouldn’t have surprised me.  What did surprise me, however, was that there didn’t appear to be any books in the library.  Instead, people sat in overstuffed easy chairs reading from a variety of electronic readers and tablets.

Cynthia was behind a long half wall that resembled a bartop. A large sign that said Circulation Desk hung above her.  Her attention was on a computer monitor whose screen was hidden from the public.  I strode up to the front desk.

“Cynthia?”

Her bespectacled head snapped up. There was a moment of confusion on her features as she tried to place my face, I’m sure, but then a broad smile split her face. “Samantha West!” she beamed. “How’s life in West Genesis been treating you? Do you like your new job? Are you making new friends? How’s that sister of yours?”

“That’s actually why I found you,” I said, biting my lower lip. Now wasn’t the time to inform her that Nora and I weren’t related. “I can’t find her.”

Cynthia’s nose scrunched up. “Oh dear.”

“She was gone when I woke up this morning,” I continued, feeling more and more uneasy as I went on. “I thought maybe she’d just woken up earlier than me and had gone to get coffee or breakfast or something, but she was still missing when I came home from work.”

Cynthia picked up the receiver of a cordless phone. “I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation.”

“Who are you calling?”

“Human Resources. They’ll be able to tell me if she showed up for work today or not.”

She punched a few numbers into the phone and I waited impatiently for an answer.  Nora had been talking about leaving West Genesis, but I hadn’t really taken the threat seriously.  I knew she was unhappy with her job placement, but that wasn’t a reason to run away from stability and survival, was it?

“Lisa? Hi. This is Cynthia. Yes, I’m well, thank you. I’m calling because Samantha West can’t find her sister. I’m wondering if you know if she showed up for work today.”

My throat tightened as I waited for the response.  Cynthia hummed a few times, but made no indication if the news was good or bad. Finally she said goodbye and hung up the phone.

“What did she say?” I clutched into the edge of the circulation desk.

“She said you two aren’t really sisters.”

“We’re not.  I’m sorry we lied,” I hastily apologized. “But what else did Lisa say? Was Nora at work today?”

Cynthia’s hand covered one of my own.  “No.” Her face took on a look that I recognized – sympathy.  Pity.  “I hate to be the one to tell you, but Nora left West Genesis this morning.”

I jerked my hand away. “What?!”

“Lisa told me she showed up at the front gate this morning and demanded to be allowed to leave.  We don’t have a policy against that, so the person staffing the main elevator left her go.”

“Did she say if she was coming back?” I felt panicky.  I could feel a small trickle of sweat in the small of my back.

Cynthia frowned. “She can’t come back. It’s part of the contract you signed during orientation.  You’re free to leave West Genesis, but if you do, you forfeit your spot,” she explained.  I hadn’t remembered reading that clause, but I honestly hadn’t read much of the contract. “We can’t hold apartment spaces indefinitely for people to come and go as they please when there’s so many others who could be saved.”

I started to feel a little lightheaded. She’d left. She’d left me behind. Where would she have even gone?

“I’m sorry, dear.  I wish I had better news.”

I swallowed hard and mentally shook myself.  I needed to make it back to my apartment so I could fall apart. “No. Thank you for telling me the truth, Cynthia.”

“I’m sure now’s not the time to bring this up, but Lisa said they’ll probably re-assign you to a different apartment.”

I nodded.  “Doesn’t make sense for me to take up all that space.”

She nodded, but continued to look at me with large, sympathetic eyes. “If you know someone with an extra bed you can pick where you’ll be relocated.  Otherwise the housing department will match you up with roommates.”

I stumbled toward the front exit, not really listening to her instructions. “Thanks again for your help, Cynthia.”

“If you need anything, dear,” Cynthia called after me, “just let me know.”

I gave her a brief wave and a half-hearted smile of gratitude. And then I left the library to catch a train to go home.

+++++

“Good morning, sunshine.”

I grunted, not ready to make nice. My morning had been anything but nice. If I had known how to call in sick, even though it was only my third day on the job, I would have.

“Ouch.” Jazmin laughed at my lack of response. “Rough night?”

“You could say that,” I sighed.

“Hey, I wanted to say something yesterday, but we got so busy that I didn’t have the chance to, but I hope you didn’t mind us crashing your dinner like that. Greg and Charlie are kind of like overgrown puppies. And once they get a hold of a bone, they don’t want to let go.”

I shook my head. “No, I’m glad you guys said hi.”

A look of relief passed over her face. “Good.  I was worried we’d gotten you in trouble.”

“In trouble?” I echoed.

“Yeah, with that girl. Nora, right? Are you two, um, dating or something? Cause it’s totally cool if you are,” she quickly supplied. “I was friends with a couple of gay people before Apophis.”

“I’m not – we’re not...No.” I forced a smile. “We’re not dating.”

Jazmin's dark eyes grew even larger. “Oh, God.  Did I just insult you? Cause I didn’t mean anything, it’s just that that girl was kind of acting possessive like a jealous girlfriend or something, and so I just assumed....” she trailed off. “Shit,” she cursed. “I’m just gonna stop talking now.”

“Jazmin, you’re fine.” Another forced smile made its way to my face. “Nora puts off a weird vibe sometimes. What are we doing today?” I asked, eager to change the subject.  I’d been hoping coming to work today would help take my mind off of Nora, not be a continual reminder.

“Oh, um, we’re checking traps today.  We’ve got a number of live traps set up within a few miles of the entrance.”

“Live traps?”

“Yeah, we don’t kill the animal. We bring it back, fatten it up, and hopefully it’ll have babies.”

“And then we eat the babies,” I guessed.

Jazmin laughed, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Or, depending on the animal, we put them in the zoo, or we shave them and use their hair for things,” she countered. “It’s not just all for food.”

“There’s a zoo?” I gaped.

“Yeah. It’s really amazing. You should definitely check it out. I think they brought all the animals from the National Zoo in D.C.”

I realized immediately that I wanted to tell Nora about the zoo.  I wanted to take her there and for just one moment feel like we weren’t living underground – that we were just two girls out on a date. But that wasn't going to happen.

Jazmin’s voice pulled me from my personal pity-party. “Hey, are you okay?”

I self-consciously wiped at my eyes. “Yeah.” I choked on emotions. “Let’s go round up some animals.”

+++++

If I had looked more closely, I would have realized she’d left for good. Most of the nonperishable canned food in the pantry was missing.  In the coat closet where we’d hung our backpacks and other camping supplies, her pack was gone. So were her sleeping bag and the tent.

As I packed all my things into my backpack that night, preparing for an inevitable move to a different apartment, I turned the apartment upside-down. I couldn’t believe that she hadn’t left a note of explanation, some sign that she’d left reluctantly, some indication that leaving me behind had been difficult.  But there was nothing.

She’d left me. I felt like she hadn’t fought hard enough for me to go with her.  I couldn’t imagine why she hadn’t thought it necessary to let me know she was leaving. It hurt my heart just thinking about how little I must have meant to her for her to be able to do something like this.

I think I probably went through all the stages of grief that night. I thought about the empty moonshine bottle, wasted on nerves when I could have been washing down my emotions.

I couldn’t sleep. I stared at the ceiling and played with the weather and seasonal controls on the skylights.  I’d fall asleep for an hour at a time. The digital clock next to the bed counted down each hour. I sat up and threw the covers off me. I grabbed my packed bag and changed out of my pajamas.  I shoved my feet into my boots.  I was angry and tired and frustrated.

There was no one in my car of the monorail and no one entered my car as the subway made its scheduled stops.  I rode the monorail alone all the way to its final stop.  I preferred that though because that meant there would be no witnesses to what I was about to do.

My keycard gave me access to the panel where all the keys were hung.  I had a choice.  I could take one of the electric snowmobiles or an SUV.  The car would protect me from the elements and I could sleep inside it when the sun sank low, but it wouldn’t get me very far.  The snowmobile would go further before it ran out of power.  Plus, there was more of a chance they’d go after me if I stole one of the SUVs and not just one of fifty snowmobiles.

I lifted one of the snowmobiles from the rear so only the front two skis touched the ground.  I couldn’t risk starting up the machine inside the hanger.  The noise would echo off the tin walls.  I tugged on the bulky machine and winced at the sound of the metal skis scraping against concrete. Every noise I made had me looking over my shoulder, expecting to see someone standing there to stop me.

I imagined a hidden camera trained on me at this very moment and that security was hustling to the surface to stop me.  I had no idea what they’d do to me if they found me up here trying to steal a snowmobile.  There was probably some sort of prison system in West Genesis, but banishment was probably a more punitive measure.

I was sweating and my back and arms burned by the time I pulled the snowmobile free from the hanger.  I still was expecting to get caught and was honestly shocked that no one had found me yet.  I fumbled briefly with the key, but the snowmobile roared to life, its electric engine sounding distinctly different than an oil burner.

I didn’t know where Nora had gone to, but I knew of one place where we’d both been happy. I would look there first. The snowmobile wouldn’t last much longer than that, and I had no way of knowing if I’d even make it that far before it ran out of power.  But I had to try.  I could stay here.  I could stay in West Genesis and survive. But what use was survival without happiness?  Without…love.

+++++

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

My limbs and face were frozen and my ass ached from nearly 24 hours on a snowmobile.  I’d gone nonstop knowing that the battery would drain while it was turned off and I needed every mile this thing could give me.  I patted the snowmobile’s seat.  It had gotten me this far.  I was amazed by its resilience.

My heart leapt in my chest when I reached the top of the crest that overlooked the shallow valley where the cottage stood.  A steady plume of grey-white smoke billowed from the stone chimney.  Nora.  It had to be her.

I rushed down the little hill, my feet snapping branches as I haphazardly made a wide berth to the cottage.  I couldn’t see footprints in the snow, but it was dark and I’d taught her well about covering her tracks to avoid being followed.  That she might not want to be found, even by me, had never crossed my mind.  I pushed that thought from my doubting brain though as quickly as it appeared.

When I tried the front door of the cottage, I found it unlocked.  Okay, so maybe Nora hadn’t listened to everything I’d told her about wilderness safety.  The door swung silently open and I was greeted with darkness.  Only the warm, orange glow spilling from the woodstove’s frosted windows illuminated the room, but even that wasn’t enough to light up the darkest corners of the open-concept main floor.

Not seeing her on the first floor, my stomach flopped.  I suddenly realized that whomever had taken up residency in the old cottage might not actually be Nora.  Nothing on the main floor suggested she was here – no boots, no jacket, no backpack.  Nothing looked out of place from when we’d left the cottage just over a week ago except there was less wood stacked by the woodstove.

I craned my neck to look up the short staircase that led to the lofted bedroom.  I couldn’t see anything encouraging with the dim lighting and I couldn’t hear anyone moving around upstairs.  I could always call out her name, but if I was wrong and it wasn’t Nora, I’d have just given the cottage’s mystery occupant the heads up that I was down here.

I felt for the long hunter’s knife in its sheath at my left hip.  I didn’t withdraw it, but I kept my fingers closed tight around the handle.  As silently as the aged stairs allowed, I crept up the flight to the second floor.  The wood on one of the middle stairs was warped and when the bottom of my boot made contact, it made a noisy complaint.  I froze at the sound, sure that I’d just alerted whoever might be upstairs of my presence.  I listened again, hard, for telling noises, but was again met with only silence.

I stilled at the top of the stairs to slow my breathing and let my eyes adjust to the darker surroundings.  The loft was significantly warmer than the ground level since it was higher and had no windows out of which heat could escape.  The second floor also didn’t benefit from the warm glow of the downstairs fire and no moonlight had crept beyond the first few steps.  I could, however, make out the pinprick of amber light of a very recently extinguished candle near the bed.  Tiny wisps of smoke twisted around each other.  The bed was also unmade, with the covers pulled back as though someone had quickly leapt out of bed.  But where had that person gone in such a hurry?  I hadn’t noticed tracks in the snow either coming or leaving the cottage and the now-extinguished candle wick suggested whoever had left had done so only moments before.

I swept my gaze around the room.  The empty double bed.  The black pipe from the potbelly stove below.  An old rocker with an elaborate quilt thrown over it.  The closet where we’d found the tent.  I blinked, staring at the slatted closet door.  It was ajar.

My pulse elevated and my breathing became shallow.  Someone had to be in the closet.  My hand defensively tightened around the thick handle of my knife.  I slowly stalked forward, mindful of how the floorboards creaked and groaned with each step.  There would be no more element of surprise.

I watched my free hand, the one not clutching the knife handle, slowly reach out in front of me.  My outstretched fingers brushed against the ajar door.  Just the tops of my fingers curled around the door’s edge.  I took a deep breath, mustering my courage.  On the exhale I swung the door wide open.  Almost simultaneously a widespread pain exploded across my left shin.  I cried out in surprise and pain and doubled over to clutch my leg.  Then came the noisy scramble of feet on wooden floors and a body shoving past me, out of the closet and into the room.

I sucked in a sharp breath through my nose and the pain in my leg dulled, but was still very much present.  And at that moment, over the wood smoke and scent of stale, boarded up air, I smelled it.  I smelled her.

“Nora?”

The dark figure halted at the top of the staircase.  “Sammy?”

With some effort I righted myself and took a ginger step forward.  The pain in my left leg re-awoken. “Hi,” I managed to choke out.

“Oh my God.”  There was a noisy clatter of something heavy and metal hitting the floor and then she was rushing across the length of the room and enveloping me in a tight embrace.

“It’s you,” she breathed, pressing her face into my neck.  “You’re really here.”  Her fingers twirled around the hair at the base of my neck.  She pulled back just slightly.  “How are you here?”

I lifted my shoulders and let them fall.  “I had a hunch you’d be here.”

Her beautiful, delicate features crumpled. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

“How did you find this place again?”

“I followed the road.”

She slugged me in the arm, hitting my bicep.  “Hey! What was that for?” I complained.  I rubbed my arm.  First my shin and now my arm.

“I told you once before not to play hero,” she scolded. “What were you thinking coming after me like that?  You’re not here to bring me back, are you?  Because I’m not going back there.”

“No.  That’s not why I’m here.”  I stroked my thumbs along her warm cheekbones, mapping her features without really being able to see her face in the dark.  “What did you hit me with?”

Her hold around my waist loosened.  “Shit.  It was a golf club I found in the closet.”

“You’ve got a wicked swing, girl.”

“Are you okay?” she worried, tugging her lower lip into her mouth.

I put all my weight on my left leg and gave a little bounce.  The leg held with only a ghost of an ache.  “I’ll survive,” I decided.

She pulled all the way back and I instantly missed the closeness.  She eyed me curiously.  “Are you just checking in on me?  Because I can take care of myself, you know.  I made a fire in the woodstove and I remembered to sweep away my footprints leading up to the cottage.”

The way she continued to stubbornly insist her independence and self-reliance was endearing.

“You forgot to lock the front door,” I pointed out.

“I know.”  Her eyes dipped demurely.  “I realized my mistake the moment I heard someone coming up the stairs.”

I tweaked her nose affectionately, not really knowing what to do with my hands or how to show her I was beyond happy that I’d found her.  I didn’t know where we stood even if she’d given me a tight hug in lieu of a verbal hello.

“I’ll be right back.”  I realized I’d forgotten to lock the front door, too.  I turned and hobbled down the stairs, using one of the banisters to keep the full weight off of my injured leg.  I didn’t think she’d seriously hurt me, no bone fractures or anything, but there’d certainly be a raised welt on my shin in the morning.

I latched the two locks on the front door. The locks couldn’t protect us from other people – my mother’s death was proof of that – but it gave me a slight reassurance of safety nonetheless.

When I went back upstairs, Nora was sitting on the edge of the bed, staring down at her stocking feet.

“All locked up,” I announced. “Safe as houses.” I’d never understood that saying.  I still didn’t.

“Why did you leave West Genesis, Sam?”

“I missed eating squirrel.”

A frown marred her beautiful face, and I wiped the nervous grin from my own.

“I missed you,” I said.

Her eyebrows lifted. “You did?”

I chewed on the inside of my lip, afraid to say more. If she rejected me, should I leave? Would it ruin our arrangement and we’d live out our days in awkwardness?

I took a deep breath. “I don’t know how you feel about me, but I’ve grown fond of you.”

“Grown fond of me?” she mimicked. “People don’t talk like that, Sam.”

I swallowed the lump lodged in my throat. “But I do,” I rasped. “My dad is gone. I’ve made my peace with that.  I’ll probably never find out what happened to him – if the people of Hot Springs killed him, if he escaped but died on the road, or if he’s still alive and surviving the best he can like us.  I can’t continue to live in the past. My family is gone and Andrea could never love me the way I deserve to be loved.”

Nora’s eyebrows rose even higher on her forehead. I think this was the most I’d ever said in one sitting. Ever. I was out of my element.

“I’m-I’m hoping that maybe you feel the same way,” I continued, awkward in my phrasing, “and that you don’t just want me around because I’m a warm body and I can make a fire.”

She blinked once. “I’ve got a quilt and I can make a fire by myself.”

“So what does that mean?” I pressed.  Did that mean she no longer needed me?

“It means I’ve grown fond of you, too, Fargo.”

“But you left me.” How could she say those words to me when her recent actions spoke louder?

“I know.”

“I woke up and you were gone. No goodbye. Not even a letter, explaining yourself.”

She remained silent, eyes downcast.

“It made me feel worthless,” I continued, picking up steam. “Like you didn’t care enough about me to bother saying goodbye.”

“I’m so sorry, Sammy,” she hushed. She cradled my face in her hands and her thumbs stroked over my cheekbones comfortingly.  “I hate goodbyes.  And I couldn’t make you choose between me or your dad,” she said, searching my face. “Between survival in Eden or uncertainty on the road with me.”

“You should have let me make that decision for myself rather than you making it for me,” I grumbled.

She gave me a lopsided smile. Her thumbs continued that comforting motion. “I can’t believe you gave up West Genesis for me.”

“Hey now.” I tried to pull away. “Don’t get cocky.”

She grabbed my face again and pulled me in for a long, lingering kiss.  I moaned at how soft and sweet she was. This girl had a singular talent for making me forget that I was supposed to be mad at her.

+++++

I laid there awake, with Nora lightly snoring and using my chest as a pillow, for a long while.  I absently stroked her soft hair, twirling the short locks around my fingers and gently moving the tips of my fingers against her scalp.  I let my mind wander dangerously onto thoughts about what might happen to the two of us all alone out here.

I could hunt and there was enough wood to burn in the surrounding area to live comfortably for a few months.  We never had to worry about water because of all the snow, but this couldn’t be a permanent solution. We couldn’t last, especially as the years dragged on and it became colder and colder.  It was lucky that Nora had a degree in sustainability, but she herself had lamented it was only so useful when given primitive tools.  This cottage we’d found was the essence of primitive. I doubted it ever had electricity even before Apophis. Realistically the perfect place for Nora and her educational skill-set would be Hot Springs, but I knew she would never agree to that.  Neither would I.

“You’re still awake?” Nora’s voice was heavy with sleep. She pulled herself up and leaned on one elbow to gaze over at me.

I brushed a few strands of hair out of her face.  She smiled sleepily and leaned into my touch.

“Sorry.  Did I wake you up?”

She shut her eyes and shook her head. Her loose blonde hair fluttered around her face. “No.  But you should get some sleep, hun.”

I felt a tug inside my chest at the small endearment. “Maybe I just want to watch you sleep.”

“Creeper,” she teased.

My eyes fluttered when she traced her fingers along the tattoo on my hip.  She dragged the pad of her index finger along the dark lines.

“Tell me about this.”

I would have been content to let her keep touching me without need for conversation, but she clearly had other ideas.

“It’s a bird on a string,” I said. My breath hitched when her fingertips traveled dangerously close to a more intimate area, but then they returned to their previous innocent spot on my hip.

“I can see that,” she said, lightly swatting at me. “But what does it mean? Why did you get it?”

“It’s stupid. I was 18,” I said, as if that answer alone would satisfy her.  I should have known better by now.

Nora frowned and removed her hand from my hip. “You’re not very good at telling stories.”

I grabbed her hand and put it back on my tattoo.  I’d tell her whatever she wanted to know as long as she kept touching me. “It represents the need to be free from constraints.”

Her fingertips resumed their dance along my skin.

“I love my family, but I was never able to be myself around them. They never would have accepted me if I...” I trailed off.

Nora’s hand paused, but she didn’t remove it completely. “If you what?”

I bit my lower lip. I had never said the words out loud before. “If I had told them I was gay.”

Nora didn’t blink. “You should have. Maybe they would have surprised you.”

I sincerely doubted that, but there was no point arguing about it with Nora. My parents wouldn’t have done something extreme like disowned me or thrown me out of the house, but they would have never been okay with it.  If I’d told them, they probably would have denied it and then we never would have talked about it ever again.

“Did your parents...I mean, did you ever...” I stumbled over my words.  I didn’t want to assume she self-identified as anything.

“I never talked to them about relationship stuff.  But even if I had told them I liked girls, my mom would have turned it into all about herself – like me being gay was my way of punishing her or something.” Nora made a face. “But seriously Sam, if you don’t go to sleep right this moment, my feelings are going to be hurt.”

“And why is that?”

A small smile curled her lips up. “Because if you’re not exhausted, I didn’t do a good enough job on you.”

“Oh, I’m tired all right,” I reassured her. “I'd be surprised if my legs actually still work.”

My response seemed to satisfy her, so she planted a near-chaste kiss on my mouth before rolling over in bed.  She wiggled backwards until her backside was curled into my side.  Then she grabbed my arm furthest away from her so she could rotate me onto my side as well and drape my arm across her midsection.  She had just bossy-spooned me.

I let all of my concerns for the future slip away as she curled back into me.  I would worry about it tomorrow. I nuzzled my nose against the back of her head and inhaled.

“Are you smelling me?” The first time she’d asked me that question, her tone had been cold and hostile. Now, however, I heard only mirth.

I took another deep breath, no longer hiding it. “Yes. Yes I am.”

+++++

FIN

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Eliza Lentzski is the author of lesbian fiction, romance, and erotica novels including Winter Jacket, Second Chances, Date Night, Diary of a Human, Love, Lust, & Other Mistakes, and the forthcoming Bittersweet Homecoming (Spring 2014). Although a historian by day, Eliza is passionate about fiction.  She calls the Midwest her home along with her partner and their cat and turtle.

Follow her on Twitter, @ElizaLentzski, and Like her on Facebook (http://www.facebook.com/elizalentzski) for updates and exclusive previews of future original releases.