by Staci Hart
He nodded as he pulled his hand out of his pack and extended them to me. “I get that. I have a hand crank charger for my old phone. I just use it to play Candy Crush and music. Thank God I downloaded all my playlists before the end hit.”
I took the steps to close the distance between us, relief pumping through me. I could go home now that I’d completed my mission, which seemed so stupid now, I couldn’t even admit the real reason I was out there to myself. “Thanks. You don’t know what it means to me.”
“Oh, I do. I get it,” he said as I took them. “I’m Beck.”
“Like the singer?” I asked with a smile.
He shot me a smirk. “Yes, except less cool and not a Scientologist. Also, alive.”
“I’m Annie.” The batteries in my hand felt like a king’s ransom.
He zipped up his backpack. “Nice to meet you,” he said as he slung it on again, and we shared a long, awkward moment.
I didn’t want to leave, not with the first person I’d seen in two years standing there in front of me. Somehow the universe had granted me a beautiful, seemingly kind and funny guy out of all the probable humans left in the world. But I didn’t know him. If I took him home, he could pillage and plunder everything, kill me, who even knew. Not that he’d have to fight me to pillage anything existing between my legs. I had a feeling Beck would be a much better lover than Von TickleFritz, my leopard print hummer.
Could I trust him? There was no way to know.
Maybe I could work it out. Darryl Dixon was about as vicious as a bunny rabbit, but I could protect myself. Could I kill him if I had to? I looked into his eyes and didn’t know for sure.
In that moment, I really wished he’d been ugly and not charming at all. And then, I did something I probably shouldn’t have.
“You hungry?” I asked.
His breath hitched, and I realized then that his eyes were a little sunken, the space under his cheeks a little hollow. “I could eat,” he said genially.
I smiled. “Well, as long as you promise not to murder me in my sleep, I’d like to take you to dinner, Beck.”
He smiled back. “I promise not to murder you. So long as you feed me.”
And that was how Beck found his way into my post-apocalyptic life. And wouldn’t you know it — I didn’t end up needing those batteries after all.
2
Welcome Wagon
As we walked out of the toy store, I was so hyper-aware of Beck walking behind me that I could barely stand it. I’d thought my nudie mags and plethora of battery operated boyfriends were enough to keep me happy. But just sharing air with Beck made me realize I’d been wrong. So, so wrong.
Don’t get me wrong — I hadn’t planned on having sex with him.
Okay, that’s a lie. I totally hoped that would happen. But I wasn’t going to throw myself at him. I mean, I still had scruples. The z-pocalypse hadn’t taken that from me.
What I should say is that riding Beck like a cowgirl hadn’t been my only intention. I wanted to talk to someone who would talk back. I mean, Beck was as blond and hairy as Darryl Dixon, but he had opposable thumbs, he could smile, and he could tell me what the world had been through in the last two years.
The batteries had been deposited in my pack, and as we stepped onto the sidewalk, my knife and gun were at the ready. Beck stepped in front of me, a gesture of protection that did nothing to stop my insides from clenching. He was like a wall in front of me, and I felt as safe as I did locked in my steel trap underground.
“So,” he started as we walked down the street toward the upper body of the dead guy, who was still trying to follow me, leaving a trail of goo in his wake. “Eleven others, huh?”
He was teasing me, and now that I was taking him home — a colossal mistake that would probably end badly — I wouldn’t be able to lie. So I didn’t.
“Nah, it’s just me.”
He glanced over his shoulder at me, and I noted the concern lining his forehead. “Who have you lost?”
I shrugged. Gutsy the Zombie was close enough now that I could hear him gurgling and hissing. “Everyone probably. But I’ve been alone.”
Beck approached Gutsy — who reached for him with bloody, gray hands — and stomped the dead man’s head like a cantaloupe with his giant boot. The look on his face was feral, full of hate and resentment and sadness, but the expression disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. He kept walking, unaffected otherwise, and shot me a look of skepticism.
“Alone? For two years? How’d you manage that?”
I followed him, my eyes on the grotesque, flattened trough where Beck’s boot had ended Gutsy’s afterlife. “I was prepared for the end, that’s all.”
“And when it went down, you were totally alone?”
I nodded. “I used to live in Kansas City, but I moved here a couple of years before the end. Spent all my money tricking out my basement, gathering supplies. I worked from home doing graphic design, and I didn’t really make local friends. Once the internet went offline, I didn’t have a connection to anyone. Only a few people even had my address, and I doubt any of them could have made it here from KC.”
He stopped so fast, I almost ran into him. The intensity in his eyes had me leaning away from him.
“You’ve really been alone?” His words were quiet and hard, but not cold.
“Not all alone,” I said just as quietly. “I have a dog.”
And just like that, he laughed. “A dog. You and your dog have been living in your basement surviving on SPAM?”
“Beef jerky and cheese doodles.”
He laughed harder, and I smiled at the sound until he looked at me again with a touch of hysteria. “Two years. Have you even left this town? Was it you who went through all these stores?”
My cheeks flushed. “No,” I said, not wanting to admit the truth.
But he wasn’t taking that for the end. “You had enough supplies to last you all this time? You mean to say you haven’t run out yet?”
“Yeah, that’s what I’m saying.”
He shook his head and passed a hand across his lips. “You’re gonna have to explain this to me. I feel like I just found the holy grail.”
We were still standing in the middle of the deserted street, and I looked away, my eyes finding a store window where a walker stood banging on the safety glass, smearing his gooey face all over it.
“I don’t know what you want to hear. I’ve been sitting in my basement for two years with my dog, and today I ran out of something I needed for the first time. So I left. And here I am.”
He was very still — the only thing that moved was his broad chest as it rose and fell and the skin of his neck over where his pulse thumped. “This is your first time out?”
I nodded, feeling ashamed, feeling like a coward, feeling like a fool.
“I don’t even know what to say to that.”
“How about you don’t respond and we get out of the street? Remember the cheese doodles.”
He watched me for a second longer before nodding once. We walked on with him still in front of me, seeming even more alert than before. Probably since he realized I was a liability. Luckily, I also possessed clean water and junk food, bumping me up the priority list.
“Where’d you learn to manage your gun?” he asked as we turned off Main Street and up the hill toward my house.
“I took classes when I moved here. I told you, I was one of those survivalist nuts. Everyone thought I was crazy.”
“Well, everyone’s dead and you aren’t, so joke’s on them.”
It didn’t seem like a joke at all, even though he tried to laugh. I changed the subject, not wanting to divulge anything else yet. “What happened after everything went offline?”
Another glance over his shoulder. “You really don’t know, do you?”
“Wouldn’t have asked otherwise.”
He sighed. “I was in Denver when it all started. My sister and I left within a few days — our parents had a house in Breck
enridge. But when we got there … well, it was too late for them.”
My throat clamped shut. He didn’t wait for a response.
“Breck even proved to be too big, too many people. When we heard that Denver had been bombed, we decided to stick to the mountains, hoping the elevation would help, and I think it did. Winters are almost unbearable, but there aren’t walkers to speak of. I think they freeze and then thaw out in the spring. Amelia and I used to hunt them in the winter trying to cull as many as possible.”
“Do … do they die off eventually?”
“They deteriorate, but they don’t die unless we kill them. They don’t seem to be growing in population, maybe because we’re remote. I don’t know what the cities are like.”
“What about the people you’ve met?”
“Well, I guess you could figure that’s the worst part. I’ve met people like me, just trying to survive. I’ve come across people who just want to kill you and steal everything you have. I’ve been in a few groups, but it never lasts. Too many people means lines drawn, sides taken, power struggles. Amelia and I had been on our own for a while before …” He trailed off, and I didn’t want to push him, even though I wanted to know what happened to her. He cleared his throat. “Anyway, small groups are better, I’ve found. The less drama, the less likely someone will slit your throat when you sleep.”
I laughed, but he didn’t, and shame rushed over me. “God, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. You’ve been sheltered from it. You’re the lucky one.”
“Not lucky. Selfish,” I said, realizing just how shitty it was, just how selfish I’d been. Tears pricked the corner of my eyes. “I could have helped, but I hid instead.”
He stopped again, turning to face me, his telling eyes now showing compassion. “Don’t do that. I mean it. Someone would have taken everything from you. The first days were the hardest, the most desperate. Those of us left have learned how to survive, but then? In the beginning?” He shook his head. “You wouldn’t be alive if you’d tried to help anyone.”
Worry niggled at the back of my mind. “And how about now? I’m taking the first person I met back to the very thing that’s kept me alive. How stupid am I?”
He smiled at that. “Not stupid. Lucky. Because I won’t hurt you.”
“How do I know you’re telling me the truth?”
“You don’t. But that doesn’t make it any less true.” Beck searched my face. “You don’t have to take me back. I mean it. I’ve made it this long. And even though finding someone else, someone alive, someone who’s funny and beautiful … even though finding you has been the highlight of my year, I can walk away and leave you alone, if that’s what you want.”
I blinked. He’d called me beautiful. I was so vain that it was the only thing that stuck. Maybe three guys in my entire life had called me beautiful.
I then realized that he must not have seen a woman in a very, very long time.
“I want to take you back,” I said. “It’s safe there. I can feed you. You can get sleep without being afraid. I … I don’t want to be alone again. Not yet.”
He nodded, relieved. “Thanks, Annie. I mean it. And if you change your mind, I’ll go. No questions. Deal?”
I smiled. “Deal. Now, come on. I’ve got Ding Dongs and Star Crunch galore, just around the corner.”
Beck laughed, and I decided then that it was the sweetest sound I’d ever heard. “All right.”
A twig snapped in the woods around us, and we whipped our heads toward the sound, weapons up. Beck favored an axe, clean and sharp, though the handle was bloodstained. His eyes were trained on the tree line. “Don’t fire your weapon unless it’s absolutely necessary,” he whispered, and I nodded my assent.
A walker tried to walk through the brush, eyes on us and hands splayed and reaching, but he tripped and fell into the street. Another plowed through behind him, growling and groaning, and Beck sprang into action. He spun the ax around before grabbing the handle with both hands and swinging it like a baseball bat with perfect form, slicing through the standing zombie’s head. It crumpled like it was made of stuffing as he whirled around and buried the ax in the head of the one trying to stand up. Two more stumbled out of the trees in the same moment.
“Behind you!” I screamed as he dislodged his ax and spun around. I charged past him and the undead woman behind him just as he swung for her, and I went for the one farthest away with a rebel yell, nailing the bastard in the yellow eyeball with my hammer. He hit the ground and didn’t move — I watched him for a few seconds to make sure. When I turned around, Beck was watching me, smiling.
“Not bad at all, for a rookie.”
I smiled back, proud of myself. “Thanks.” I scanned the bodies and burst out laughing when I saw the walker Beck had decapitated. Her hair was curly and matted, probably once blond but now closer to gray, and she wore the nerdiest overalls ever, with white Keds and a turtleneck covered in snowflakes.
I nudged her with my boot. “Man, she never stood a chance, did she?”
“Most people didn’t. But I’d be willing to bet snowflake here was worse off than most. I was a baseball player, once upon a time.”
“Well, that explains a lot,” I said as we started walking again. “You swung that ax like you meant it.”
“I used to carry an Easton, but the ax is cleaner. Plus, I felt like Negan from Walking Dead sometimes, bashing people’s brains in with a bat. Couldn’t have that.”
I snorted. “I kinda felt like Tyrese with my trusty hammer here.” I held it up in display. “I came across my dead neighbor in my initial sweep for batteries and my buck knife didn’t work — I couldn’t get it through his skull.”
He nodded like he knew just what I meant. “You’ve got to be precise — hit them in the temple or eye. Roof of the mouth if you’re pinned down. Knives are way better for the living.” We crossed the bridge over the brook to my street. “So you trained in firearms, what else?”
“Martial arts. I worked a lot with the knife on my own. But this is my first time doing any of this in real life. It’s … well, it’s not really the same.”
“Nothing ever is, is it?”
“I guess not.”
The conversation died for a bit as we walked up the street, my house already in view.
“It’s really weird talking to someone after so long.”
He smiled over at me. “Yeah. It’s been months since I’d uttered a word other than to myself.”
“I talk to my dog some, but it’s kind of a dead end conversation.” I turned to walk up the driveway, and he looked over the house as we approached.
“This it?”
“Home, sweet home.”
We walked through the living room, over the broken glass, and to the basement door, the first one. Down the stairs we went, which felt darker than I remembered from just a few hours before. Had it really only been that long? It didn’t seem possible. The second door was a different story. There were three locks, each with a different key. The whole thing was a vault, able to withstand nukes, easily keeping looters out. Not a lot of power tool access in the apocalypse either, I guessed.
I unlocked each deadbolt and turned the massive lever handle with two hands, opening the door with a creak and a groan.
Darryl Dixon barked and jumped on me, licking my face and wagging his tail like he thought he’d never see me again, and I laughed, hugging him around the furry neck.
“Hey, buddy. Good to see you too.”
I shifted to turn to Beck, my heart stopping when I caught sight of him.
His face was pure wonder as he looked around, from the shelves and shelves of supplies, barrels of water, the lightbulbs glowing from the ceiling lights.
“Electricity,” he whispered.
I smiled. “And running water.”
He gaped at me. “Are you fucking serious?”
I nodded, my smile stretching into a grin.
Beck kicked his head back and laughed, then rush
ed me, picking me up around my waist, spinning me around. I hung onto his neck, giggling, and he slowed, leaning back to look me in the eye.
He looked younger then, his eyes bright and cheeks high and pink.
“God, I could fucking kiss you right now. Do you have any idea how incredible this is?”
Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me. “I guess it’s all right,” I breathed, and we stared at each other for a moment before he lowered me to the ground — I slid down his long body, leaving my hands on his chest.
He let me go and spun around slowly, looking everything over, landing on Darryl. “Your dog. Man, I haven’t seen a pet dog in forever. Out there …” he glanced at me, then back to Darryl, kneeling down to pet him. “Well, let’s just say it’s been a long time. Hey, buddy. How are you, boy?” he asked as Darryl licked his face.
I headed to the supplies. “So, what are you hungry for? I’ve got pretty much everything of the nonperishable junk food variety. Plus loads of canned vegetables and meats, but mostly I’ve been living on cheese doodles and Combos for the last couple of years.”
He smirked. “How’d you stay so skinny?”
“I masturbate a lot,” I blurted, thinking it would be unexpected.
I was right — his head whipped around, face full of shock before he busted out laughing. “I didn’t realize that could burn off Little Debbies.”
“Yeah, well, I’m committed to giving it my all.”
“Commendable.”
“I’m mostly kidding. I have a BowFlex.” I gestured to the corner of the room where the monstrosity stood. “Darryl Dixon and I like to run laps. Upsides to having a basement that’s over two thousand square feet. I’ve got rollerblades, too. Sometimes I imagine I’m an Olympic skater. At least until I sprained my ankle trying to do a triple lutz.”
Another laugh as he ran his hands over the food. “This is amazing. I don’t even know where to start.”
I folded my arms across my chest, enjoying watching him ogle my food. “Well, I’ve got a gas stove and oven and have gotten pretty damn good at making bread.”