by Ariel Bonin
Andrew squinted at her and bit the inside of his lip. "That's not very romantic. I figured you'd be a little happier to see me."
She rolled her eyes playfully. With a quick look in both directions, she reached across to grab the front of his shirt. "Come here," she whispered.
Their kiss was slow and deep, with an intense heat that simmered just below the surface. Lindsey slipped her hand under the collar of his shirt, brushed it across his chest, and then gripped his warm shoulder. Her other hand rested innocently on his waist. She decided to throw caution to the wind by sliding her hand down into his back pocket and pulling him against her. He made a humming sound deep in his throat and gently pushed her away. Disappointment flooded her body. They were both breathing heavily, and it was obvious that Andrew was clenching his jaw in an attempt to maintain his self-control.
"I'm sorry, but one more minute of that and we'd be…" Andrew started to say as one of the older survivors stepped into view down the line. She waved and continued to hang clothes. Lindsey returned the wave with a friendly smile and looked back at him. He appeared to be stifling a grin, but it didn't quite meet his eyes.
"Is everything okay?" Lindsey asked as she felt her stomach tense with apprehension.
Andrew cleared his throat. "Robert needs medical supplies. We're goin' on a run and I'd like for you to come with us."
She was about to respond when her conversation with Zoey popped into her head.
'He left again. He is always leaving.'
It wasn't exactly the best time to have this discussion with him, but it would have to do. She just hoped that he wouldn't blow her off. It was important to Zoey, so it should be important to him.
"I need to talk to you about something," Lindsey said, swallowing her nerves.
Andrew's eyebrows drew together. He took a step closer and spoke softly. "I know we need to talk about it—us, but it's going to have to wait."
Lindsey closed her eyes and took a breath. When she opened them, she focused on his bright blue gaze to show him how serious she was.
"Andrew, that's not what we need to discuss, at least, not right now. It has to do with the trip you're planning to take today. I think that maybe you should sit this one out."
He held her gaze and waited for her to continue.
"Your kids need you. There are plenty of people willing to go out for supplies. It doesn't always have to be you."
Andrew stared at the ground, then off into the distance. He seemed to be uncomfortable with what she was saying to him. Panic stirred in Lindsey's chest.
"I know it's not my place to talk to you about your children—"
He raised a hand to stop her. "You're right. It's not your place. How would it make me look if I send everyone out and then hang back to play house?"
"Like a parent," Lindsey replied, steadfast.
"You wouldn't know anything about that, so don't act like you do," Andrew spat back.
Lindsey felt like she had been punched in the gut. As her blood ran cold, Andrew pressed on.
"I sure hope you're not just saying this because of what happened last night—some desperate attempt to keep me here so you don't have to worry about me out there?"
Lindsey shook her head. Tears threatened her vision, but she wouldn't let them fall. "We're done talking," she whispered in a hoarse voice, and walked away.
Chapter 11
Lindsey knelt in the vegetable garden, her glove-covered hands buried in the loose soil. She heard Charlie's Ford before she saw it. She sat back on her heels and watched as he led the way for their black sedan. Once the gate was open, they took off. When the cloud of dust finally settled, she found herself staring at the empty road.
Andrew was gone.
As mad as she was at him, it still pained her to not have said goodbye. She felt sick to her stomach when she thought of never seeing him again. Life was too short to hold grudges, especially now, but she knew he needed his space.
She also felt guilty about staying behind. She tried to volunteer herself, but Caren had said all the spots were filled. Charlie, Eric, Ana, Darius, and Andrew rounded out the group.
Unsure of what to do with herself, Lindsey had decided that the new section of their garden needed a good weeding. She worked hard into the afternoon, skipping lunch, simply munching on the occasional cherry tomato.
Sweaty and exhausted, she called it quits when the mosquitoes became more vicious than the turners. As she meandered up the path to the school, she tugged off her filthy work gloves. The dirt had found its way through the material and caked under her nails. She tucked the gloves under her arm and began removing the dirt using the tip of her thumbnail.
As she washed her hands in a basin of rainwater—careful to avoid her bandaged finger in the process—she heard the familiar sound of a bouncing basketball. Quite often a group of kids played on the court outside. Lindsey stopped short when she rounded the corner and found Andrew and Zoey on the court instead.
Zoey went in for a basket, but it bounced off the rim. Andrew's voice echoed throughout the schoolyard. "Oh, almost."
A ghost of a smile played on Lindsey's lips. Apparently, in spite of everything, he had listened to her. He could be as mean as he wanted to be to her, but if it kept him around for his kids, she'd take it. Her heart swelled, knowing she didn't miss her chance to say goodbye after all. They could still fix this—if he wanted to.
Lindsey was about to turn away when Zoey caught sight of her.
"Hey, Lindsey! Want to play?"
Andrew had his back to her and she watched as his posture stiffened. Slowly, he turned to face her. She couldn't read his expression. He didn't look particularly happy to see her, but he certainly wasn't mad either—maybe just uneasy.
She walked a little closer, so they were now a few feet apart. Neither Andrew or Lindsey said anything. Zoey looked between them, clearly wondering why they weren't speaking.
Lindsey turned to Zoey and smiled politely. "Thank you, but—"
"Hey, Andrew," Robert interrupted, having just exited a side door.
"Yeah?"
Robert looked worn out as he said, "Nadie has come down with the flu. She needs you to take Jacob."
Andrew nodded. "Of course. We'll be right in."
Lindsey glanced at Zoey. Disappointment clouded the girl's face. Lindsey knew she would probably regret this forthcoming statement later, but she'd continue to stick her neck out for Zoey—even if it ruined her relationship with Andrew.
"If it's all right with you, I'll watch Jacob for a little while. That way you and Zoey can finish your game," Lindsey suggested, her gut twisted into knots. She saw a flicker of hope light up Zoey's features.
Andrew balanced the basketball on his hip, a sight Lindsey never thought she would see. Luckily, her nerves squashed any amusement that might have appeared in her gaze. He studied her for a moment, and then nodded.
"There's a bassinet in my room. You can take him in there, if you'd like."
Lindsey smiled. "Sounds good. You two take your time." She leaned toward Zoey and whispered just loud enough for Andrew to hear. "Kick his ass."
Zoey laughed. Andrew just shook his head in good humor and sauntered back to the court.
_____
About an hour and five games of P.I.G. later, Andrew and Zoey called it quits. Zoey had won 3 - 2. In celebration, she announced that she was going to hang out in the common room with a boy she liked. Andrew conceded—after feeling at least two more hairs turn gray—and went off to find Lindsey and Jacob.
As he neared his room, he could hear Lindsey's soft singing. It took him a minute, but when he recognized the tune, he chuckled. He leaned against the doorway and watched Lindsey sway back and forth, Jacob's head on her shoulder. She had her back to him, thus, she continued to sing. He didn't want to startle her and wake up his sleeping child in the process, so he lightly cleared his throat. Lindsey still jumped a little, but Jacob's eyes stayed closed. She turned around and Andrew asked, "'Americ
an Pie'?"
Lindsey cracked a smile. "He cried for probably twenty minutes before I remembered that he likes singing. Nadie doesn't seem to sing him traditional lullabies, though." She paused. "My mom used to sing that song to me. I figured that since it worked for her, it was worth a shot."
Andrew appreciated that tidbit of information. It showed Lindsey was still willing to confide in him.
Jacob began to fuss again, so Lindsey rubbed his back and hummed quietly. Andrew allowed his mind to wander for one brief moment. He imagined that Lindsey was Jacob's mother; that she had carried his child. Those thoughts brought on a warm sensation in his lower abdomen. Oh, how badly he wanted her—in every possible way.
Lindsey glanced past Jacob and started blushing under Andrew's heated gaze. "What?" she asked, breathless.
"You would have been a fantastic mother," he murmured. He watched her bite her lower lip and look back at him with so much affection in her eyes, it almost broke his heart. "I'm sorry about what I said before. It was cruel. You deserve better."
"Thank you," she whispered.
He pushed off from the jamb and closed the space between them. He cradled her face in one hand and brushed her cheek with his thumb. As tenderly as he possibly could, he touched his lips to hers. His hand slid into her hair, deepening the kiss. Jacob started to squirm between them, and Andrew stepped back.
"Why don't you go get something to eat?" he suggested, his voice heavy with suppressed desire. "It's been a long day."
Lindsey agreed and carefully passed Jacob to him. She turned to leave, but Andrew reached out to grab her hand. He pulled her in for another quick kiss, their fingers intertwining. Eventually, he let her go. After a gentle wave, she was gone.
_____
The party of scavengers returned just before dark. Andrew rushed out to meet them, breathing a sigh of relief when he saw that they'd all returned just as they'd left.
"Did you find what we needed?" Andrew asked Charlie, his voice urgent.
Charlie motioned to an unfamiliar figure standing by the truck. "Yeah, and more."
Andrew was shocked he hadn't noticed the man sooner. "Who is he?"
Charlie spoke low, ensuring they wouldn't be heard. "Name's Dean. He's former military, like you. Found him holed up in an abandoned Red Cross camp. We warned him about the bug goin' around, but he still agreed to tag along. Wasn't much left for supplies there, but we stumbled across a nursing home that hadn't been looted yet. Hit the jackpot on that one."
Andrew raised his eyebrows in disbelief and then took a moment to assess the newcomer. With fierce brown eyes and short black hair, the man was well over six feet tall. His worn out clothes didn't hide the fact that he was in peak physical condition. Andrew had always looked at someone that served as his fellow brother in arms. There was a certain level of camaraderie, even with complete strangers. He didn't feel that with Dean, though. Something about him didn't sit well with Andrew. He tended to stick with his gut, especially when it came to first impressions, but wanted to give Dean the benefit of the doubt.
Striding over, he held out his hand. "Captain Andrew Flynn, U.S. Army."
The man completed the handshake, his grip firm. "Staff Sergeant Dean Mason, 3rd Infantry."
"So you served…"
"Came all the way from Fort Benning. Ain't much left there."
"I think that can be said for everywhere."
Dean nodded once. "Definitely seen my fair share of the dead. Sometimes they make better company than the living."
"Care to elaborate on that?"
"I spent some time with a group in Alabama. They loved their weed and liquor almost as much as the fresh meat on their barbecue every night."
"Good place for hunting?"
"Not for animals. You'd be lucky to find a squirrel in that wasteland."
When Andrew understood what Dean was suggesting as their abundant food source, he scowled. Dean continued on, hardly noticing him take pause.
"Listen, I really appreciate your hospitality. It looks like you've got a good thing going here."
Andrew crossed his arms. "We've had our fair share of troubles, but we manage."
Dean's eyes moved past him and, for a moment, held a flicker of awareness. Andrew glanced over his shoulder and saw Lindsey approach them. While he would have given her the same look, he didn't approve of the other man giving it to her. His own sudden possessiveness caught him by surprise, but he and Lindsey had something special happening. He wanted to see it through without any third-party distractions.
Lindsey didn't pay Dean any attention, much to Andrew's delight. She'd only come out to tell him that Jacob and Zoey were asleep.
"Could you stay and help unload the supplies?" he asked, wanting to keep her close.
"Sure," she said.
"I'll give you a hand," Dean offered, perhaps a little too quickly.
As Andrew forced a grateful nod, Charlie backed up the truck. He pulled down the tailgate and lifted the first box. They brought the supplies into a classroom, and after the fourth heavy box, Lindsey stopped to dab at her damp forehead.
"You all right?" the stranger asked, his voice deep, but polite.
She simply nodded.
"Dean Mason," he introduced with an outstretched hand. She glanced at his hand, but didn't shake it.
"Lindsey," she answered as she went for the next box.
He waited a second before moving to one side of the truck. "Just, 'Lindsey'? No last name?"
She sighed. "Does it matter?"
Dean shrugged and put up his hands in defense. "Guess not."
They removed the last of the supplies and he tapped the tailgate to signal that they were done. Charlie pulled away to park the vehicle, and Lindsey started to walk back toward the school. With a sharp exhale, she turned around and stopped him.
"Listen, Dean? It's not that I don't want to shake your hand. With this bug going around, I'm just trying to be cautious of cross-contamination."
He shook his head. "You're right. I'm sorry."
Lindsey nodded once and began walking again. Andrew watched Lindsey ahead of him, Dean slowing his pace after they spoke. Andrew still couldn't shake his aversion of the man, especially with him apparently taking a liking to Lindsey. He'd have to put an end to that.
_____
It was the middle of the night, but Andrew still lay awake. The silence was deafening. He never liked the moments when he was left alone with his thoughts. The darkness of night always seemed to make them worse. It didn't take much, though, for the day's events to wear on him. It could only be described as a massive roller coaster: he and Lindsey made love for the first time, the turners damaged a section of fence, and he almost cut off Lindsey's hand. They fixed the fence, and then found out that they needed supplies for a flu outbreak. That was followed by his fight with Lindsey, but he'd listened to her and, because of it, had an enjoyable afternoon with his daughter. Lastly, he'd fixed things with Lindsey.
At least he'd ended the day on a high note.
Battling fatigue, he rubbed his hands over his scratchy beard. He considered rolling onto his side and attempting to close his eyes, but a sound fractured the silence of the school. It started out like a faint whine and gradually got louder. Somehow it was familiar to him. He finally made the connection when he heard Lindsey call out his name. While it wasn't a sharp, lucid cry, the raw sound of his name on her lips made him shiver.
She's having the dream again.
It was reminiscent of the night at the cabin, except this time he wasn't there when she woke up. The muffled whimpers that followed were the final straw for him.
Swiftly, he stood up and walked into the hallway. Her privacy sheet wasn't up, so he looked in and saw her laying in the fetal position, facing the wall. Her thin frame looked so fragile under the blanket. He pushed her door the rest of the way open and stepped inside. She jumped, sniffling, and turned to face him. For a second he thought she was going to try to cover up the fact that she'd
been crying, but the empathetic look on his face must have stopped her. She continued to cry and reached for him.
"Aw, Linds," he whispered. It killed him to see her like this. He had seen her strong and he'd seen her upset, but this time he was watching her break.
He lay down on the cot and wrapped his arm around her waist. She buried her face in his shirt and simply wept, her warm tears soaking through the thin fabric.
"Shhh, it's okay. I'm here," he whispered as he closed his eyes.
Her sobs dwindled and she stirred against him. With a gentle caress, Andrew brushed back her hair and held her face in his hands. Her lips parted as she took a ragged breath.
"Look at me, Lindsey," he pleaded softly. Her damp, dark eyes flicked up to meet his gaze. "I'm right here. This is real. We're alive."
Lindsey's bottom lip quivered. "I can't lose you, too. You're all I have left."
Andrew attempted to swallow the lump in his throat. "I know…"
He didn't know what else to say. He wanted to promise that everything would be all right; that she wouldn't lose him. Unfortunately, the only promise he could make was that there would always be more pain, more death.
Deciding to focus on an area where he might be of some help, he thought of this dream she repeatedly suffered through. He needed to help her get past it. There was a question he wanted to ask her, and hoped it wouldn't upset her more.
"Do you blame yourself for what happened to Jared?"
To his surprise, she barely reacted to the question. He could only assume that she had considered it before now. He took a moment to admire how her long eyelashes stood out against her lightly-colored cheeks as she contemplated an answer.
After a minute, she shook her head. "I don't blame myself. There was no way I could have known that would happen to him." She paused. "Guilt? That I do feel."
Andrew stared at her with sad eyes. He knew all about guilt.
She grimaced suddenly and he could feel her tremble under his calloused hands. "I left him. He was scared and in pain...and I left him to die alone."