I think Dan would be pleased to know his concoction has helped several pregnant ladies. Except for Jamie, who’s in her fifth month with not a bit of sickness. He’d be even more pleased to know that I teach the kids astronomy as well as art. It’s always been useful knowledge, but it’s more important than ever now that they’re what are left to guide us.
Peter snuffles on my neck until I turn for a proper kiss and tuck my icy hand in his shirt. He doesn’t mind as long as I let him do the same with his warm one, which is never a bother.
“Get a room,” Penny mutters.
I laugh. “Pregnant Penny’s back. You really want to see me like that, Petey?”
“Nope,” he says, and grins at Penny’s scowl.
He’d like kids—a little Jane or Eric. I would, too, but I can’t bring myself to intentionally add another person I love to this world—one more person who could be ripped away so easily. Peter tells me it was always that way and that if anyone knows it the two of us do, but I’m holding out.
Nelly opens the brewery’s door. “You guys coming in or what? The rumors are flying fast and furious in here.”
James throws Anamaria over his shoulder and leads Penny inside. I turn to look at the streets that make up this tiny village I love. And although I’ll always miss Adrian and Ana—and all the others I loved who didn’t make it here—I’m exactly where I want to be.
“Everything okay?” Peter asks.
I touch his cheek. “Everything’s great. And I love you.”
“I love you,” he says. “Promise.”
He always says that, and he hasn’t broken a promise yet. I’m certain he never will.
“I love you more.”
He leans on the doorjamb, eyebrow lifted. “More than all the stars in the sky?”
“Well…” I twist my mouth and pretend to think. “I definitely love you more than salmon.”
“Thanks a lot, weirdo,” he says, and pulls me inside.
The building is full, kids playing quietly in the back. They’ve spent so much of their lives being quiet. I’m waiting for the day they can be as loud as they want without fear. And from what I just heard on the radio, that day might come soon. The survivors south of us, those who have eked out an existence on the peaks of mountains and other inhospitable places, say that the mold is winning. We’ve seen it, too, on the few who make it to our fences before the cold comes again. The survivors told me of millions of bodies that have collapsed into black dust and bones under the summer skies, and that the remaining Lexers aren’t far behind. They believe this will end next year or the one after that. It’ll be all right.
Maybe we’ll leave here one day. Head back east to more fertile soil and warm summer nights where the stars are visible. But, honestly, I don’t care if I never see the summer stars again. Not if I have the people I love more than anything—more than all the stars in the sky.
About the Author
Sarah Lyons Fleming is a Laura Ingalls devotee, wannabe prepper and lover of anything pre-apocalyptic, apocalyptic and post-apocalyptic—or anything in between. Add in lots of humor and some romance, and she’s in heaven.
Besides an unhealthy obsession with home-canned food and Bug Out Bag equipment, she loves books, making artsy stuff and laughing her arse off. Born and raised in Brooklyn, NY, she now lives in Oregon with her family and, in her opinion, not nearly enough supplies for the zombie apocalypse. But she’s working on it.
Visit the author at http://www.SarahLyonsFleming.com
Spam-free mailing list: http://eepurl.com/FZhVz
Acknowledgements
Once again, I have folks to thank for reading and editing and helping me get this book done.
As always, my parents, both in-law and not, who read and comment and find those pesky typos.
Jamie Mcreynolds, who always reads and annoys the crap out of me until I give her a finished product—which is great. Tracy Nielsen, who gives me a lovely boost.
Danielle Gustafson, who laboriously types out her notes and my typos. With four kids. FOUR.
Jessica Gudmundson, who, in giving me some Canadian expertise, became my lovely, funny internet friend. And, being Canadian, she’s super nice (of course!).
Lindsey Fairleigh, a talented author and all-around wonderful gal, who gave me some advice and pointed out an inconsistency or ten (Read her books!).
Melissa Jane Keaton, who gave me some dental advice when I was unsure about just how much dentists know.
Charlene Divino-Williams, who offered to proofread and edit and gave me thoughtful, insightful comments.
John Evanston at Bi-Mart, for letting me wander around his distribution center and imagine standing just out of reach of hundreds of zombies. I know where I’m heading in the zompoc—wait, maybe I shouldn’t have told you that.
Lindsay Galloway, who gave me some good Winnipeg-area advice for no reason other than to be helpful.
Google Maps, without whom I would have had no idea about Canadian geography. We’ve become very close.
My husband, Will, who amazes me every time with his knowledge of grammar and his ability to see things others have missed, whether they be good or bad. A book isn’t finished until he’s worked his magic. I’m a very lucky lady.
Until the End of the World (Book 3): All the Stars in the Sky Page 37