It was all fantasy, just like my girlhood dreams about him had been.
Still, I couldn’t stop myself from holding his eyes and face in my mind, overwhelming emotions for him in my heart as I grew more relaxed with the blanket of sleep slowly covering me.
Dreams were close, on the edge of my awareness, but part of me that was still awake heard something. My ears pricked at the sound, and then I realized the door to the bedroom was opening. I had a fleeting thought then, wondering why I’d been closing it all this time. It had only been the first night that I’d slept with it open, and since then, I’d kept it shut, but that was probably silly. After all, some leftover warmth could make its way into the bedroom overnight, but as the fire dwindled to nothing during our sleeping hours, it probably wouldn’t make much difference. Whatever the reason behind my decision, I’d been doing it most of the time I’d been sleeping in there…and now the door was opening.
My senses weren’t panicking, though. Something inside me was quiet, calm, and knew it was okay and so I continued to lay there on the edge of sleep, not giving in while I waited for whatever would come next.
I thought I heard my name whispered, but my brain, drugged with the promise of slumber, wouldn’t let me lift my head to check.
I felt him sit on the bed and, after a few minutes, he got under the covers.
And then he held me close, just like he had that afternoon, and I fell asleep before I could be consumed with emotions I wasn’t equipped to handle.
Chapter Eight
When I woke up the next morning, it was still dim in the bedroom because the sun hadn’t fully come up over the mountains to light up the valley. But it was light enough in the room for me to confirm that I hadn’t been dreaming. Kevin lay on his back, his arm around my shoulders, with my head resting in the crook of his arm, my hair splayed over his covered chest.
The sweet scent of the conditioner I’d used at the cottage the day before clung to those locks. It still felt like a dream, whereas our everyday existence bordered on nightmarish.
As I awakened more, I realized I was freezing—not just my nose and cheeks, like on most mornings. My arm and shoulders, even though covered by a shirt, were as cold as ice, and I figured Kevin’s exposed limbs had to feel the same way. I pulled the blankets up and over us, and my movement caused him to stir. He opened his eyes in the dim light and looked at me.
Even in the near dark, his were beautiful, intoxicating, and mesmerizing, and I felt like I could see inside his soul. He smiled first and I couldn’t help but return it. My voice was soft as I asked, “Is this real?”
He blinked, his smile growing wider, and he moved his head slightly to the side. “Nina.”
I already felt vulnerable, so I decided I had nothing to lose. The part of me inside that was scared wanted to lower her head back to his blanket-covered chest, but the strong part of me—the adult Nina—chose to continue taking in his visage as I talked. “This is a shitty place to be. It’s horrible and hopeless and maddening. It’s fucked up, and I have no idea how the hell we’re gonna get home.” I swallowed. “But I’m glad you’re here.” My voice had dropped again and, after the words came out, only to be gobbled up by the engulfing silence and unrelenting cold, I wondered if he’d heard me. If he hadn’t, I thought that might be the universe’s way of telling me to let it go, to not grab hold of something so fragile, so destined to fucking fail.
But I’d always been a creature of hope. It was how I’d survived for so long.
He pulled his hand out from under the covers and ran two fingers along the side of my face, pushing the hair back. I blinked, willing back tears that I’d had no idea were hovering close by like water filling a bathtub to the brim, and I swallowed the saliva that had pooled in my mouth. Two simple words made all the anxiety fly away like it had wings. “Me, too.”
Somehow, facing what we had to do for the day no longer seemed as daunting as it had in the past…because I now had a partner.
* * *
The next few days were much like so many days we’d already served on that mountain—Kevin and I would get water while the Dingels gathered kindling. We did a little halfhearted exploring, but I knew we all had the same thoughts in our hearts: it was useless to keep trying, not while winter was bearing down on us like a mother trying to push an overdue child out of her womb.
I had lost track of time. All I knew was that the days had been getting shorter and shorter, and so I knew it had to be December. I didn’t want to ask any of my companions for fear of what they would say. I only knew that, until the days started getting longer again (although I doubted I’d be able to tell subtle second differences here and there), winter had yet to officially begin.
Which meant we had a hell of a long way to go.
One good thing was I seemed to have adjusted to the cold. Yes, I still wanted warmth and I continued to prefer shelter when it was particularly frigid outside, but I was able to handle going outside better than I had in the past, and being perpetually cold in my extremities was becoming more bearable. As long as I had a coat, a pair of gloves, and two pairs of socks on in addition to the other layers, I could take whatever the hell Mother Nature dished out.
Of course, I remembered my aunt saying winters were hell until March…but I wondered if she’d mentioned if January and February were worse than November and December. Something was tickling my mind about that, but I honestly couldn’t recall what she’d said.
Somehow, I thought it was close to Christmastime…but I had no reason to think that. It was just a feeling.
I was chopping up veggies for a beef stew. Larry had said he was craving “meat—any kind of meat” and had gone through my aunt’s chest freezer in the garage. Just as we’d figured, all the food inside was still plenty cold, and Larry had found a package of cubed beef. That meat had inspired me to make a dish I used to make during winter months that my whole family loved. I knew I wouldn’t be able to remember all the spices and amounts, but I hoped I’d get close.
First, I gathered the vegetables—onions, carrots, and potatoes—to chop, and then I’d take all the food to the fireplace and see what I could do. I’d already gathered a little flour for thickening and all the spices I thought I’d need, and that little act set me to reflecting once more—about how, in our modern world—we were so fortunate. If we four were stuck here the rest of our lives, how would we ever acquire spices again? I knew I could find wild garlic in these hills, but salt? Black pepper? Any other subtle (or pungent) spices I’d grown accustomed to? I somehow doubted that, if I wound up being stuck here for the remainder of my time on this planet, I would ever have access to the flavors of oregano, thyme, coriander, cumin, rosemary, paprika, cinnamon, and the like. I wouldn’t even know where to find them or how to grow them.
I’d have to get used to the taste of food without them…and, having been spoiled by my life up to this point, I wondered how that would go.
Maybe I’d adjust. I’d already forgotten how amazing homegrown food tasted until dining on it over the past several weeks. There was nothing like the taste of peas or carrots or corn from my aunt’s garden. Produce from the supermarket just couldn’t compare. These vegetables, even having been in cool storage for months or canned or frozen, had still captured the intense flavor that homegrowing had given them.
I was lost in these thoughts when I felt hands on my shoulders. All my companions had been doing their own thing—Vera was upstairs bathing (after Larry had nagged her repeatedly for days, begging her to do it) in front of the small fire her husband had built just for her, and the men were outside, but I didn’t know what they were doing. It was a sunny day, and I’d seen them heading out and talking, but I didn’t know what they’d been up to.
So, when I felt the hands on my shoulders, I was certain it was Kevin. He must have just come in from being outdoors, and it was nice feeling his hands on me. He was squeezing my muscles, helping them relax.
Ah. I hadn’t felt that kind of a
touch in years. There was nothing like it—firm but loving, its intent to work out the stress and pent-up emotion of the day. I closed my eyes and let my head drop forward, my neck bent. He took advantage of that angle and brushed my ponytail aside so he could massage my neck. I let out a breath, feeling much like cat curled up under a sunbeam, my human petting me and making me purr.
“Mmm.” I half expected him to touch his lips to the skin there and I hoped he wouldn’t, because I was afraid of being caught by the Dingels. I don’t know why I worried about it, but I did. For some reason, I imagined it could cause some friction, jealousy, and mistrust.
“When do you think the stew will be ready? We’re working up quite an appetite.” I froze. That was not Kevin’s voice—it was Larry’s. So many questions swam through my head, but the bottom line was this: his touch was inappropriate…and kind of creepy. Like his wife, though, Larry was beginning to feel a little unstable, and I didn’t know that outright rejection would work well.
I sat up slowly and said, “Never if I don’t get these vegetables peeled and chopped.” I turned my head slightly to the side and he dropped his hands. I felt immediate relief. “What are you guys doing that’s making you so hungry anyway?” I finally forced myself to look up at him—and, while I didn’t like the look in his eyes, it was fading and he’d at least taken a more neutral position.
“I lifted the tarp on the next couple cords of wood and saw that, even though they’re stacked, they’re not split. Those logs are too damn big to try to shove in that fireplace. We found an axe and a stump for cutting under another tarp, and we’re taking turns. One of us chops and the other stacks and unstacks.”
I wanted to ask him what the fuck he was doing in the kitchen then, but I found a nicer way to word it. “So what’s your job right now?”
He grinned. “I just got done chopping. Kevin’s at it now. I’ll be joining him shortly.”
I drew in a deep breath through my nose. “You can let him know dinner’s coming along just fine.”
I heard, rather than saw, him chuckle and then heard his boots cross the tile to the carpeted living room area before he walked back out the door. I hadn’t looked at him again, didn’t want to give away the fact that I was feeling vulnerable and creeped out. His response before leaving indicated to me that he might have known exactly how he was making me feel, and confirming it would only make me that much more a target. I didn’t want to take that chance.
Later that afternoon, though, he acted like nothing had happened. He and Kevin said it was getting lots colder outside, but they’d managed to get through quite a bit and were trying to decide if they should do more…which meant they needed to discuss their thoughts with Vera and me. So, after the rest of us took our baths and then rejoined around the fire to enjoy dinner (which turned out to be one of the better meals I’d managed to make during our stay here), Larry introduced the subject.
I was blowing on the first spoonful of my stew when Vera asked, “So what’s this big news you guys wanted to tell us?”
Larry shook his head. “Not news, Vera, but a realization.”
“And?”
Larry looked over at Kevin and nodded. I was next to him on the couch. He hadn’t yet picked up his spoon and I could tell this announcement—or whatever it was—had been gnawing at him all afternoon. He relaxed his jaw and sucked in a deep breath through his nostrils before speaking. “Larry and I had a long talk while working on the wood this afternoon, and we’re starting to think we just need to face facts.” I imagined his face dropping even more, as if his disappointment had grown simply by having to talk about it again, but he couldn’t find the words.
Larry had no issues with it. “Ladies, it’s getting too cold and we’re having too much bad weather to keep trying to convince ourselves that we’re getting out of here before spring. We’re just not, and we need to face facts—conserve energy, make the most of what we’ve got.”
Out of everyone, I hadn’t expected Vera to pipe up. “Bullshit.”
Even in the low light of the living room, I could see Larry glowering. “Not bullshit, woman. What kind of progress do you feel like we’ve been making?”
I could see her roll her eyes. “If you didn’t feel the need to kill every damned one of them, we might have found more people who weren’t infected.”
That was news to me. I hadn’t realized Larry had been on a killing spree. Maybe it came as a shock to me because Kevin and I had—up until we’d found the solar-powered cottage and made love—told the Dingels all the details of our journeys. I hadn’t heard Larry once mention that they’d had to kill any infected, much less lots of them.
“Well, what do you expect me to do? Just let them keep wandering around so they can find us here and attack us? That sound like a good idea to you?” When she didn’t answer him, even though he paused for several seconds waiting, he resumed. “Savage and I talked about it. You guys aren’t having any more luck than we’ve had as far as finding people or vehicles or gas or anything else, and—as bad as this weather’s been—January’s right around the corner and I guarantee the next two months are gonna be worse than what we’ve had. We need to focus on staying alive—water and heat—and, if a day’s really nice and we feel up for it, then great. We can explore. Otherwise, we just keep survivin’ till spring. Once spring gets here, we’ll have weather that we can survive in and more daylight. We could probably hike to Chipeta Springs once spring gets here.”
We were quiet for a few minutes as we let his words sink in. It was what I’d been considering an inevitable possibility for some time now, but the reality and acceptance of the fact didn’t make it any more palatable. And then I realized that he’d said it was almost January, something I’d been wondering but hadn’t known for sure. Kevin spoke then. “So, we’re chopping up the rest of the wood. We did some estimating, and we think we have enough to make it till we won’t need it anymore. So, Larry’s right. We just figure out how to keep surviving and then, once the weather’s nice and the days are longer, we plot our way out of here.”
It was grim, but I appreciated the lack of sugarcoating. I could better face it if I knew what I had to do.
I was relieved that I at least felt there was one person I could trust. Otherwise, I didn’t know that I could handle it.
Chapter Nine
I had no idea how long we’d been away from home, but I was pleasantly surprised by a few things that had happened since. My body and my mind, for instance. Aside from worrying about my children and extended family, it was amazing how free and quiet my brain had grown, except for when I needed to focus. Thought felt clearer and I felt more relaxed. I listened to my body, too—I slept when I was sleepy and woke up with the sun—without an alarm.
My body? Well, I’d been honing it with the work we performed daily and the lack of junk food and other crap lying around that was easy to grab and down before we came here. But that wasn’t the only change I was marveling at. My skin felt good. I wasn’t using soap on it—just water—but no moisturizer either. The only skin that needed extra care was on my hands, and I knew that was because of having to wash dishes and maybe due to the cold, so we shared the lotion we found in my aunt’s place, but none of us went crazy or used more than we should have. My teeth also felt amazing. We’d managed to find enough toothbrushes and used the toothpaste sparingly—our thought was that as long as we brushed them, we were removing bacteria, and a little bit of toothpaste would just have to go a long way; we had no choice.
My hair gave me the biggest surprise. It didn’t feel as dirty as I would have expected and, in fact, it seemed healthier, even seemed like it had grown longer and stronger since we’d gotten stuck here. My fingernails were obvious in that they were longer, maybe tougher, and I probably needed to trim them. One thing I noticed was that I didn’t look in the mirror as much as I used to. Part of it was that I wasn’t getting ready for work every morning, putting on makeup and doing my hair. When I did look, though, I was sometimes
shocked. My face was thinner but it was also darker—all the time outside under the winter sun was adding color to my face, color that hadn’t been there in ages, except for painted-on color.
So, there were some pleasant surprises, but none of it changed the fact that we were away from home, out of touch with the rest of the world and wondering about our loved ones. They were always on my mind, whether at the front, weighing heavily, or nestled in the back, a constant reminder under the surface.
Kevin and I were doing a water run one day. We’d both been quiet as we walked down the mountain, deep in our own thoughts, but we’d been looking around. The sun was out, bright and relentless, but the bitter cold lashed at our cheeks and noses. “You said your husband died…of MS?”
I blinked. I wouldn’t have guessed, after all we’d been through the last couple of months, that my husband’s passing would still feel raw, but it did somehow.
I knew why, though. Mourning his death and dealing with my feelings had been something I’d put off to a degree. Part of it was due to all the guilt I felt.
I had to give Kevin an answer, though, instead of just continuing to trudge down the mountain like he hadn’t said a word. “Yeah. A couple of years ago.” Exactly how long, I had no idea, because I didn’t know the date anymore. Time wasn’t as good a measure as it had been before. I only suspected it was January now, which made it almost, not quite, two years before—and, in some ways, it still felt fresh.
That didn’t mean I wanted to talk about it, and my rather reticent companion had said very little about his own past life. I needed to shift the focus to him and get my mind off my own sorrows. “What about your wife? Er…ex-wife?” It was probably a path I shouldn’t trod, because I still had my doubts as to the finality of his previous relationship (and that would affirm that ignorance does, in fact, love bliss), but maybe it was because we hadn’t discussed it.
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