by K. M. Fawkes
“It wasn’t you, you know,” she said as she patted her lips with the white napkin. When she put it back on the table, it was crumpled and stained with her lipstick. The shade she’d chosen to wear was even darker than the wine. “It was me. It was always me.”
Brad leaned across the table. “What do you mean? It had to be me. Tell me the truth, Anna. Tell me what I did!”
She smirked and shook her head. “There were go again. What did you do? Oh, Brad. You still don’t understand.”
“No, I don’t! Anna, all did was care about you,” he said. “I would have died for you and Sammy—”
“I know, you cared about my son more than I ever dreamed anyone else could. And you made me feel safe,” she said, taking a delicate bite of the food that the waiter put down in front of her. It looked like deer chili, which made Brad blink in surprise and glance around at the other diners. He couldn't tell what they were eating, however; they were all too far away. The place had certainly seemed much too fancy for deer chili, though.
He looked around more carefully. There were crystal chandeliers overhead and carpet so plush that he felt his boots sink into it under the large wooden table. The tablecloths and napkins were spotless white linen, except for the one that was now stained with Anna’s blood-red lipstick. The waiter had left the wine on their table, but Brad didn’t even have a glass. He briefly considered lifting the bottle and drinking it down right in front of all of them, but he was distracted by Anna.
She had always been beautiful to him, but tonight, she was gorgeous. Anna was dressed to kill in a plunge-neck green satin dress. There were diamonds around her collarbones and there were some twined into her hair, too, in an elven sort of coronet.
In contrast, Brad was horrified to look down and see that he looked like he’d been working outside all day. His hands were black with dirt. His jeans and T-shirt were dingy under the ambient light of the chandeliers overhead.
“I’ve never had a good relationship,” she said wistfully, looking at him across the table. “I told you that, didn’t I?”
“Anna, I don’t—”
“I’ve never seen one either,” she said, taking another bite and patting at her lips once she’d swallowed. “My parents…they didn’t get along.”
It felt like information he’d heard before, but he couldn’t place it. He also couldn’t understand why they were talking about it now. There were more important things than the past. He needed to know where they were so he could find them!
“Anna, that doesn’t matter,” he said, leaning across the table and speaking urgently. “Nothing that happened in the past matters now. Tell me where you are.”
She smirked again, but this time he saw the sadness that filled her green eyes. “Yes, it does,” she said heavily. “Of course it does. An apocalypse doesn’t erase issues, Bradley. It amplifies them.”
“It doesn’t have to.” Distance began to grow between them, the table lengthening in front of his eyes. He reached for her hands and her fingertips just skimmed his as she got further away.
“Anna?” he asked. He wanted to stand up, to run after her, but he couldn’t seem to get his legs to move. They felt as if they’d turned to lead under the table.
She shook her head, looking down. “I’m sorry, Brad. I did what I had to do.”
“You didn’t have to leave!” he yelled. “You didn’t have to leave me to face them alone!”
He didn’t know if she didn’t respond, or if she was just so far away that he didn’t hear her answer. The noise in the dining room grew and grew as people stared at him, asking questions he couldn’t answer.
“I don’t know,” he said in response to their stares, but their voices only grew louder. “Shut up and stop staring!” he yelled.
As they converged on him, still asking questions, the room began to grow darker. Brad ducked the grasp of the waiter and nearly fell out of bed.
He moved more toward the center of the mattress he’d woken on to find himself hanging off, and pulled the blankets more tightly around him. Then, he simply stared up at the ceiling, shaken by the dream.
It had been a long time since he’d dreamed that deeply. He hadn’t even known that he was asleep, a feeling that always unsettled him. Even the dreams about the cabin hadn’t sucked him in like this one had. And those had at least made sense.
What the hell had this dream even been about? He didn’t consider himself to be a very spiritual man, but he did believe that dreams had a purpose. They were usually the subconscious shouting at you. Except, this time, it was like his subconscious was shouting at him in a language he didn’t speak.
He pushed his hands through his hair, trying to go back to sleep. He could worry about the crazy dream in the morning, when he’d have plenty of time on the fence inspection duty he’d been assigned. The Major hadn’t been pleased about the coyote, so he’d assigned everyone a section. It would be a lot of work, and he could really use a few more solid hours of rest. He could get them if he went back to sleep right now.
He closed his eyes, ordering himself to shut it off and go to the sleep. His eyes popped open again a few minutes later, though. An idea was slowly dawning in his mind. He had heard her words before.
“I’ve never had a good relationship.”
Anna had told him that once over dinner. And she’d also mentioned that her parents’ relationship had been strained. She’d told him that it had ended in a bitter divorce.
Those were the things she’d told him over the course of the months they’d spent together. But there was plenty that he didn’t know as well. For instance, she’d never told him what had happened with her twin sister—the one Brad hadn’t even known about until the night she’d told him about her birthday party.
In short, Anna was a woman who kept plenty of secrets, but he could piece something together with all of that. Something that explained why she had run. It explained it very well, in fact.
Despite the fact that it had taken so long to kick in, his subconscious mind had done a fair job of summing up the problem. Anna had been terrified. Terrified of giving up the control she’d fought so hard for once Sammy was born, but equally terrified of her own choices. That was why she’d insisted on so much work leading up the winter. She needed to feel in control, even within the confines of safety.
“An apocalypse doesn’t erase issues. It amplifies them,” he whispered into the darkness of his bedroom. “Damn straight it does.”
Their issues had simply been at odds during the end. He’d clung so tightly to the cabin that he’d lost everything to keep it. She’d run from someone who never would have hurt her because of all of the people who had.
He should have listened to his instincts. He shouldn’t have kissed her that night. Then, maybe she would have been less afraid of him bending her to his will over the cabin and they could have talked it out.
Or maybe she would have run anyway. He knew that he wasn’t wrong in thinking that she’d developed feelings for him. So maybe nothing he’d done would have mattered and she would have done exactly the same thing. But maybe she wouldn’t have.
At sunrise, having finally given up on the idea of getting any more sleep, Brad got up and got dressed. There was no point in lying in the dark reliving how beautiful Anna had been in the dream and how much more beautiful she’d been back in the cabin. He had a fence to inspect.
“Hey,” Jack said when Brad stepped out of his front door.
“Hey,” Brad said, doing a double take. “You’re up pretty early.”
“Yeah,” Jack said. “I thought I’d get a head start.”
Brad was impressed. Jack tended to sleep as late as he possibly could. “Well, that’s—”
“And I stepped in a hole in the dark and twisted my ankle,” Jack finished with a wry grin. “I guess that’s what I get for trying to earn another gold star. And for getting out of bed early.” He winced as he moved just slightly. “I’ll never do that again, I promise you.”
“Do you need me to take a look at it?” Brad asked.
Jack shook his head. “No, it’s not a big deal. I mean, I’ve sprained it before, so I know it’s not serious.”
“No swelling?” Brad asked pointedly.
“No. Well, I mean, just a little.”
“I’ll be right back.” Brad walked across to the cow pen and leaned down, chipping some ice out of the water trough.
He stuffed the ice into one of the plastic bags that usually held feed and walked back to Jack. “Here you go,” he said, holding the bag out. “Put the ice on it for twenty minutes. Then, just leave the bag out here. It won’t melt. Ice it once every hour and keep it elevated.”
“The only problem with that is that I’m supposed to be checking the fence,” Jack said as he shifted in his chair once more, making a face when he accidentally put weight on his injured ankle.
“I’ll check your sections for you,” Brad said. “It’s not a problem.”
Jack looked tempted, but then he hesitated. “I don’t know, Brad. Every man does his own work around here, you know.”
“Every man isn’t even awake yet,” Brad said with a grin. “I’ll do your section and mine and initial for us both at the sheet. No one will be done before me, anyway.”
The chores had to be initialed every day at a sheet which hung on what had been the mailbox for the facility. Maybe that was what the Major spent his day doing…writing up the sheets. They did have to be done by hand, which was probably a pain in someone’s ass. He had a feeling that it was probably Neal’s problem rather than Major Walker’s, though.
Jack sat still for a moment. Then, he flexed his ankle and clearly only just bit back a grunt of pain. After another second he nodded. “Okay, I think I’ll have to take you up on that. I have the section to the west, near the woods.”
“I’ve got it,” Brad said. “And I’ll do that part first, so don’t sit here and worry about it. You just get some rest, okay? And remember what I said about the ice and elevation.”
“I’m headed right back to bed,” Jack assured him. “Thanks a million, man. I really appreciate it.”
Brad shrugged. “It’s no problem. Here, let me help you get into the house.” Jack started to protest and Brad sighed. “Stop it with the overly-masculine bullshit and let me help you. I’ve got two fence sections to do now because of your dumb ass.”
Jack looked surprised at first and then he threw back his head and laughed. “Okay, fine. This is your reward for helping me with my chores.”
Brad snorted. “I’ll be sure to treasure every single second. All right. Ready? One. Two. Three.” He pulled Jack up, bending slightly so that the other man could put his arm around his shoulders. He waited for him to get his balance on just one leg before he said, “Okay, you get the door.”
As he helped Jack inside, Charlie came down the hall, rubbing her eyes sleepily. “What’s going on?” she asked, then gasped when she saw Brad holding Jack up. “Oh my God, are you okay, honey?”
She hurried over, running her hands over Jack’s chest as if searching him for injuries. He gave her a smile as Brad steered him to the couch. Brad had to lower him down carefully around Charlie’s frantic inspection.
“Charlie, I’m fine,” he said when she continued to search him. “I just twisted my ankle while I was out checking the fences. It’s nothing life-threatening, I promise.”
His wife dropped down to the couch beside him and pressed her face against his chest. “Oh my God, Jack. I haven’t been that scared since we got here,” she whispered. “I thought something awful had happened to you.”
Brad was starting to feel like he was intruding so he walked back out and grabbed the ice pack. By the time he brought it back in, Charlie had just about composed herself. Brad saw tears glimmering in her eyes, but none of them had escaped to run down her cheeks. She reached out and took the ice pack, pulling Jack’s pant leg up before putting it gently on his ankle.
“Thank you, Brad,” she said. “I can’t believe that you got this stubborn man to let you help him into the house.”
“Hey, it’s no problem. And I’m unbelievably charming and persuasive; didn't you know?” Brad said with a smile. “I’ll leave you to keep him sitting down, Charlie. I’d better go get those fences checked before other people start moving around. I’ll drop by and check on you later.”
“Sure thing,” Jack said. “Thanks again, Brad.”
“Anytime,” Brad said as he walked to the door.
He finally set out on the job he’d started for, breathing in the cold morning air and wincing as he walked. It really was freezing cold. He didn’t know why he was so consistently surprised by it. Brad pulled his scarf up over his mouth and walked briskly, trying to warm up as fast as he could.
He had twice the amount of fence to check, so he had twice the amount of time to get warm. Or at least, that was what he told himself as he walked. In reality, it would simply be twice as long before he could get back indoors. And, like most of the things that had recently screwed him over, it was all because he’d decided to play the Good Samaritan.
But hey, wasn’t that what neighbors were for? It was interesting to use the word again. He really hadn’t expected that he would. At least, not so soon. He hadn’t had neighbors since even before the whole apocalypse. That was the price a person paid when they lived above their business.
He wished that he hadn’t thought of his business. He wondered if it was still there or if it had been burnt to the ground as well. If someone looted the supplies that he’d spend so much money to buy, that was one thing. If someone just pointlessly destroyed them, that was something else again. He ordered himself not to think about it and picked up his pace. The sooner he got done, the warmer he’d be.
As he jogged along the fencing that had been assigned to Jake, he noticed a small hole. That was probably where the coyote had gotten in. He made a mental note of it and walked on. It wasn’t big enough for anything serious and he could probably patch it with some leftover chicken wire once he got done with the check.
The rest of the fencing was fine and he was heading back from initialing both his and Jack’s sections when someone called to him.
“Hey, Brad!”
Brad stopped and turned toward the farm area of the facility. “Hey, Ben, how’s it going?”
“To be honest, not that great,” Ben said bluntly. “Can you walk with me for a minute?”
“Sure,” Brad said, falling into step with the other man. “What’s up?”
“I didn’t want to say it so close to that group of kids,” Ben said. “Otherwise, the next thing you know, a rabies scare will blow through here like wildfire. But I’m afraid that the coyote bite is starting to get infected.”
Brad stopped in his tracks. “Are you sure?”
Ben shook his head. “I’m not one hundred percent sure, no. But it looks red and puffy. I thought you might want to come take a look at it. Just to be clear, I don’t think it’s rabies, but you know how the rumor mill works.”
“Good thinking,” Brad agreed. “And yeah, I’ll go right now.”
They walked to the cow pen, Brad’s mind already five steps ahead on what he should do for the cow. It could be a simple fix. He could have put the stitches in too tight since he was stitching in the dark. Or it could be an infection like Ben said. An infection wasn’t the end of the world. Ben hadn’t wanted to start a rabies scare and Brad agreed, but the word rang in his mind like an alarm bell the whole way there.
Brad tried to come up with more reassuring things, but nothing came to mind. He stepped into the pen and walked over to the cow. The skin around the stitches was swollen and dark. He sighed.
“Damn it. I’ll have to take the stitches out,” he said. “Will you help me get her back in the sling?”
Ben did as Brad asked and they began carrying out the exact same procedure that they’d done yesterday. Brad made sure to wash the wound even more thoroughly this time. Then, he injected th
e skin around the wound with penicillin. He should have done that the first time around, but he’d been afraid to use the medicine up. He rubbed antibacterial ointment into the bite and then stitched the animal up once more.
By the time he was done with the cow and had packed up the first aid kit for the second time in as many days, his poor night’s sleep was catching up with him. He held back a yawn as he hopped over the fence and headed back to his apartment. Maybe he could get a nap in before he went on hunting rotation tonight.
He’d completely forgotten about the hole in the fencing and his plans of patching it up. All Brad was worried about at the moment was getting some sleep so that he didn’t end up napping on duty. He had a feeling that the Major would really frown on that. Hell, for all he knew, they’d leave him lying there on the forest floor.
Chapter 14
It was November twenty-second, and Brad was pissed off. He supposed that he shouldn’t have been. He was still alive, after all, and there hadn’t been any fallout over his questions like he’d been afraid of. He wasn’t dumb enough to have relaxed his guard, and he’d done his best to continue to explore while staying under the radar.
He’d tracked down the supply house a few days ago, right before the snow had started. He’d been able to smell the iron scent of the impending storm, so he’d taken his chance while he knew that he wouldn’t leave tracks. His heart had felt like it was pounding out of his chest the entire time, but he’d found the place without incident.
He’d picked the lock and snuck in. Inside, he had found himself staring at rows upon rows of supplies. There was way more than ration bars in there. His gaze landed on cans of vegetables, pasta, chili, and soup. There were boxes and boxes of nonperishables and an entire shelf of five-gallon water jugs.
“So why are we gagging down MREs and busting our asses hunting every damn day?” Brad had muttered as he walked through, looking at the bounty that they could have been sharing every day.
The door had opened just then, and his heart had skipped one too many more beats than was healthy. He’d ducked down in the darkest corner, near some stacks of blankets. The cramped position reminded him of the time he’d waited in that SUV on the interstate. At least this time he wasn’t sweltering hot. Which didn’t mean that he wasn’t sweating.