by Siara Brandt
As he headed for the deep shadows under some trees, he didn’t see a low hanging branch. It gouged him deeply in the forehead narrowly missing one of his eyes. When he recovered, he started to run again.
Behind him, Arlend heard Benson Cabot say, “Open the gate and let him out.”
Arlend kept running through a zombie infested world much like Cain had, with a crime behind him and a mark upon him for all to see.
“EM? I THOUGHT WE MIGHT- TALK.”
Reyne shifted his weight uncomfortably on one combat boot and then the other.
Emma looked up at him in silence and then made room for him on the step beside her.
After he sat down, he glanced covertly in her direction, but she was staring straight ahead so that he could not read her thoughts. He had tried to prepare himself ahead of time, like he’d do for any dangerous mission. He wanted to say something memorable, something dramatic that she wouldn’t forget.
All he got out was “Uh, nice weather.”
And nothing after that.
Brilliant on his part. She’d never forget that. And here he’d always prided himself on being a halfway-decent conversationalist.
And then, because he couldn’t think of another word to say, she filled the silence between them. “What do you want, Reyne?” He looked to see that she was staring at him with eyes that were dark and unfathomable.
What did he want?
“How’s the dog been doing?”
The dog? That was the best he could come up with?
“He’s fine.”
“How’s it working out for you here?” he asked next, working his way to the heart of the matter.
“I already told you I was planning on staying,” she reminded him.
“Your mother like it here?”
“She does.”
There was a soft, dreamy expression on her face as she turned and looked up at him now. And- was she smiling faintly? He was so drawn to that smile - it transformed her - that he forgot what he had been about to say.
“Kiss her, Reyne.”
Reyne, of course, didn’t hear the onlookers who had taken up positions so they wouldn’t be visible. They were, after all, trained in covert ops.
“Geeze, Reyne, don’t make the woman wait all day,” one of them said.
“He’s going to blow it. Hell.”
Down below their position, on the porch step, Reyne only wavered for a second more before he decided that a direct assault would be the best approach.
“What I’m trying to tell you, Em, is that somewhere between that- first night, and here I- ”
He looked like a man who had suddenly surrendered, fully and completely.
“I fell in love with you,” he finished and then waited for mercy.
“That’s good,” she said softly as she raised her hand and laid it lovingly against his cheek. “Because I fell in love with you, too.”
To the smothered glee of the onlookers on the hill up above them, he finally kissed her. Long and hard and deeply. With all his heart and soul.
And she?
Kissed him back.
Long and hard and deeply. With all her heart and soul.
Because although the whole world might be falling apart, some things will always remain the same.
ARLEND BIGGERS HAD KEPT RUNNING UNTIL, desperate, hungry and chased, he found a new group, one that he had come across quite by accident.
One would have hoped that he would have learned from his mistakes of the past. But as he reached the place they called the Compound, he had already fabricated a story that even he himself believed. He told the people there a heart-rending tale of suffering, about the last place he had sought refuge and how he had been treated little better than a slave there. The worst part of his sad story? It was about how his wife had left him for another man and turned their only son against him. He repeated the story to anyone who would listen.
The scar on his face? He had gotten that when he had saved a child from a zombie attack.
The man who had stood listening to his latest lamenting commented shortly, “Uh-huh. Well, we try to get along here. Everyone’s equal. Everyone works. I can start you out helping with our food supply.”
Arlend’s scarred face immediately brightened. How lucky was that?
But he wasn’t feeling so lucky when he was shown the actual food supply. Long, long lines of plants stretched out before him in what seemed like endless rows.
“There’s always work to do here,” Bram said and proceeded to tell the newcomer all about the garden and their future plans to expand it, including new fencing.
Harvest time was right around the corner, Bram went on. There would be plenty of work to do and extra hands were always more than welcome.
The cigarettes would have to go, though, he was told. He was going to have to give up smoking altogether if he was going to stay. They couldn’t risk contaminating the tomato plants with tobacco mosaic virus. Priorities were priorities. Especially in a zombie apocalypse. So that meant food before cigarettes.
“We all have to make sacrifices,” Bram added, noting the soft hands of the man who was looking so dejectedly out at the rows of ripening vegetables. “But there’s always a good side. My wife says that weeding is one of the best things for the soul,”
As he handed the man a hoe, he was thinking that everyone deserved a chance. It was difficult sometimes, but Bram liked to think there was hope for everyone.