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  Moving to all fours, I tucked the last of my things into the backpack John had given me the day my mom died.

  I would be nineteen. And still a virgin. At the end of the world. What was wrong with that picture?

  ~~~

  Bodey wrapped his arm around my waist and we walked, our steps in sync, on the cement sidewalk.

  The sun had risen an hour ago. Birds sang in the trees and clouds puffed across the blue sky. Grass lawns had overgrown to large patches of dandelions and knee high blades with overgrowth tan amongst the green. Weeds encroached into the lines of the sidewalk and cracks of the driveways we passed.

  Fences gave under disrepair. Chipped paint on the wood ones with faded boards paled next to the dirty spottiness of vinyl fencing. Many fences missed planks and posts, some chopped out and others broken out like they’d been kicked in.

  Leaves on maple trees were turning to flames on branches. They would start to fall soon.

  Another winter would be upon us with only the resources we carried on our backs.

  “Do you think we’ll have a more stable place this winter?” I reached for Bodey’s hand and he dropped his arm from my waist to hold my fingers in his. I loved that he needed to touch me, even just casual touching. I wished he would give in and do more with me than kiss. Feeling alive and more in control of my life had become so wrapped up in whether our intimacy was physical or not.

  I couldn’t explain why. Maybe I just needed to be wanted.

  He sighed, watching the street ahead of us and glancing behind us to check our rear. “I hope so, but as long as that creep continues tracking us, we’re not going to be able to stay in one place for long.” Of course, he was right. He could’ve been his dad with everything he learned alongside John. The men had become the world to me. I loved them, but I kept it bottled inside.

  I swallowed. We hadn’t said the words yet, but I wanted to, so badly. I opened my mouth but Bodey clenched my fingers in his and pointed toward a white house with a dark blue door. Multiple levels trimmed in red demanded attention.

  “You don’t think that nice of a house has been looted yet?” Of course it had. Probably every home in the neighborhood had been. We weren’t the only survivors and evidence of that fact grew everyday with lessened amounts of supplies we scavenged. Where there used to be a box of cereal or crackers and a bag of sugar, there might only be baking soda and oats. Most likely not even oats.

  Baking soda didn’t fill any holes in anyone’s stomachs.

  “You might be right. I wouldn’t feel right though, if we didn’t at least check.” He smiled at me and my heart skipped. He tugged me beside him, never letting me fall behind. Why couldn’t every moment with him feel so great? Why did we have to run for our lives?

  Cautious, but not worried we would find anyone – nothing moved – usually by that point a warning greeting would be given. Being met by landowners wasn’t so bad. Usually we could barter with them, gather information, and share ours. But when they hid? Too many variables for safety.

  This time, though, nothing moved. No curtains, no blinds.

  Up over the patio steps and to the front door, we stepped around a hole in the broken slats of the deck steps. Rusty nails had worked themselves up from their holes, staring at us as in crooked rage as we walked by, suspicious in our doings.

  Bodey tested the door, the handle giving easily to his twist. I looked behind us once more before we ducked inside.

  Nothing moved.

  Even the bright day seemed to pause.

  “Wow, what a beautiful home.” I trailed my fingers along the railing of the stairs leading up. Pictures of people and places and pets graced the hallway. Books stacked shelves lining the den. We tread quietly on the mauve carpet runner framed by wooden flooring.

  “Would you want a home like this?” Bodey looked back at me, his eyes blue, brilliant, and warming.

  I shrugged. “Maybe? But how safe is it? What could I do with that many books? Start a fire?” A house like that was designed for a family. For kids. My laugh didn’t develop all the way. Mom would want grandbabies, but I wasn’t ready for that type of thinking. I couldn’t guarantee my safety, how could I do so for little ones?

  Bodey pulled me to his side as he drew to a stop in the kitchen doorway.

  We faced each other, our chests barely an inch apart and then he lifted his hands and cradled my face as he slowly kissed my lips. Passion consumed me, helping me forget we had walked into someone’s home and they were probably dead.

  His hands worked up my sides, his fingers trailing my ribcage. He pulled me closer until we touched from knees to shoulders. I moaned, his tongue tracing my lips. Drawing back from me, Bodey watched my face like he searched for clues to the lost world.

  I loved his tenderness. I pushed closer. “Do that again.” Lifting my face, I waited for his kiss again. But nothing. Dropping back down, I licked my lips. “Don’t you want to?”

  He glanced at my lips and then at my eyes. “I want to kiss you all the time.”

  “Then why are you stopping? We could go upstairs – or just in there.” I pointed to the couches in the living room. “Your dad won’t be with us for another hour.” I pushed against him suggestively – well, as suggestively as I thought I was. I was most likely bumping against him like a log in water.

  He chuckled, touching the tip of my nose with a finger. “You know I can’t. It’s not right.”

  Trying not to pout and failing miserably, I pushed closer. “Why? I... I...” I wanted to tell him I loved him, so much. But I couldn’t. What if he died tomorrow? What if something happened to us?

  Or worse, what if he didn’t love me back?

  What if I broke my silence and told him and he didn’t say it back? My stomach clenched at the thought.

  “Why? What if you got pregnant, Kel? I can’t get you prenatals or anything. It’s not like we can go do the clinic or go to the store for diapers and formula, you know?” He brushed my hair from my cheek, skimming my lower lip with his thumb. My lower body separated from the logic he tried injecting into the moment. His voice grew huskier. “I have something I want – no, need to tell you and I won’t wait anymore.” Bodey took my hands in his and pressed me back to lean on the doorjamb. Sunlight shafted through the front windows, lightening his golden hair with sparkles and shine.

  Tell me what? Nervous, I chewed my cheek. Moisture dampened my palms. I rubbed my hands on my legs, leaning my head back to train my attention on him. “Okay.” I offered lamely.

  His slow smile melted my anxiety. “I love you.”

  Time froze. Heat flooded me. I stared into his eyes, disbelieving. “You do?”

  His grin faltered. “Yes. Of course. I thought you knew.”

  I glanced at his collar. “No, I knew you liked me, but I never thought...” Meeting his gaze, I grinned slowly. “How could I be so lucky? I’ve wanted to tell you the same thing for so long, but I didn’t. I couldn’t.” The moment couldn’t be more perfect.

  “You wanted to tell me what? You have to say it.” His eyes sparkled as he teased me.

  I giggled, unable to tear my gaze from his. “I love you.” I glanced at the couch. “So, if we love each other, can we?” I lifted my eyebrow.

  “You’re terrible. No.” He shook his head, mocking a frown. “I want us married. You deserve that much. At least then I won’t feel so foolish, if you do get pregnant. And...”

  I arched my eyebrow at him as he trailed off. “And what?”

  He sighed. “I don’t want you running or camping like we’ve been doing, if you do get pregnant. We need to be in a community. I need you safe. This isn’t safe.” He slapped his leg. “Having a baby with just a couple of men to help isn’t safe.”

  Slapping my thigh, I stood away from the frame. Huffing, I bit the inside of my cheek. “So we’ll never be together. Not like that.” I slammed my lips shut tight, pressing them into a thin line.

  “Why not?” Bodey followed me as I paced onto the ti
led floor of the kitchen.

  “Because there’s no one left to marry us. There is no law. There’s nothing. We can’t even say vows because we don’t have anyone to officiate.” Hopelessness welled inside me. I didn’t even care that much about the sex. The need to feel less alone drove me.

  He said he loved me, mentioned marriage, but we didn’t have any way to see our dreams come to fruition. I fought frustration. I didn’t want to ruin a memorable day. He loved me, what more did I want? Besides him naked? “I don’t want to get pregnant either, but... how did mankind survive if women only got pregnant when a hospital was around?” Now, I just sounded pouty.

  Bodey cornered me, my back pressed to the counter. He braced his arms on either side of my waist. “Hey, you need to relax. I’m here. We’re here. Let’s take this a day at a time, okay?”

  I nodded, but did he mean it when he said he loved me? “Okay.” I swallowed. “Do you think there’s any food in here? Or do you think we’re just wasting our time?”

  A heavy footstep fell in the hallway. I stopped moving, resting my hands on Bodey’s inner elbows. I whispered, “What was that?”

  As if magically conjured, Charlie stepped through the doorway, his smirk crooked and dirty, framed in a matted beard. “Me, sweet Kelly. Just me.” He spread his arms, encompassing the room.

  No. Our special moment couldn’t be ruined by Charlie of all people. Dread dug around my heart, chilling my skin. I hadn’t seen him since the day Mom died and he’d destroyed Bodey and John’s home and killed their dogs. I backed up, my elbow knocking a picture from a shelf behind me. The crash startled me and I jumped.

  Charlie narrowed his eyes, his grin growing.

  “What do you want? We don’t have anything.” Bodey turned, his back braced against me, blocking Charlie’s reach.

  But Bodey knew what Charlie wanted.

  What he’d always wanted.

  Me.

  “Oh, but you do. I’ve been chasing after her for months. Too many months. Too long.” Charlie licked his lips, a fanatical fire in his weasely eyes. “Oh, Kelly, you took your mom from me. She was...” His eyelids fell to half-mast. “You’ll be a good replacement. You look just like her.”

  Bodey stepped forward, meeting Charlie in the center of the kitchen. He flexed his fists tight at his sides. “You can’t have her.” He glanced at me, unwilling to relent on that point.

  “Oh, little boy, I’ll have whatever I want.” Charlie’s fist swung through the air, connecting with Bodey’s jaw before he had a chance to look back.

  Bodey bent to the side, hand to his face. “You can’t have her.” Straightening his shoulders, he dropped his hands into a fighting position, foot back and fists protecting his face. He jerked his fingers toward his chest. “Try that again, old man.” A red spot marked the first hit.

  Charlie stepped forward, his fist zooming in the direction of Bodey’s face. Bodey slid across the floor, punching downward onto Charlie’s arm before slipping back into his original position.

  Grunting, Charlie spun, swinging his other arm around and catching Bodey in the side. They crashed to the ground, legs and arms a mixed blur as they rolled and oomphed on the hard floor. Flesh thudded into flesh.

  I flinched, edging around them, biting my nail. What could I do? I had to help Bodey. Scanning the counter, I reached for a meat tenderizer, the wooden handle like an old-fashioned, solid wood baseball bat. Pulling the club to my shoulder, I waited, watching, holding my breath. If I could just get a good shot, I wouldn’t mind —

  There!

  Swinging forward with my hips and pivoting on my toes, I smacked the metal cube into Charlie’s head. He jolted upright like a rod was shoved up his spine. He fell from Bodey, slumping to the floor in a heap.

  Blood dripped down Bodey’s upper lip from his nose. Numerous scrapes covered the right side of his face. Fingerprints bruised into his neck were already starting to show bright red. He shook his head and pushed from the floor, wiping at his lip. Wild and unfocused, his gaze skipped around the kitchen, landing briefly on me and then moving to take in Charlie’s unconscious form.

  “Is he dead?” He crouched, checking Charlie’s wrist for a pulse.

  Blood spilled onto the ground around the jerk from a head wound. I hadn’t made any effort to be soft. The bastard had everything bad coming to him. If I wanted to stretch things, I could almost convince myself Mom had helped me because of what he’d done to her back at camp.

  I shrugged, dropping the tenderizer to the counter. “I don’t care.” Crossing my arms, I settled my weight to my hip.

  “Why? You act like this every time we see someone dead. Like death doesn’t matter. It matters. Lives matter.” Bodey stood, trekking back and forth from Charlie to the sink.

  I spun, angry and biting back so many words I wanted to fling at the man I loved. But I maintained my calm, or at least barely gripped my control. “Lives matter. I agree. His? Nope. It doesn’t matter. He’s the guy who burned down your place. He doesn’t matter. He’s the man who raped my mom, got her killed. He doesn’t matter!” I swallowed back the angry bile creeping up my throat. Of course, Charlie could ruin my happiness even as he lay in a puddle of his own blood. “He won’t stop.”

  Bodey glanced at me, wiping his hands on a crusty towel beside the sink. “I couldn’t find a pulse. Don’t you worry what will happen when things get back to the way they were and you’re held accountable for the things you’ve done?” He thrust his hands to his hips and watched me like my answer shaped my future.

  And maybe it did. What if I refused to pay for my actions later? What if I was asked how many people I’d killed? I scoffed. No way would I be honest. I hadn’t killed anyone. All I had done was protect my boyfriend. Self-defense. Plus, crime would be hard to prove with most of the population gone.

  I lifted my chin. “Back to the way they were? Are you serious? Things will never be the way they were. They can never be that way. We will never see OREOs again or Cap’n Crunch or anything. Cold milk? Nope. So stop saying things like it might come true.” My crying days were over. I hadn’t shed a tear since the first time I thought John had died. I didn’t have enough energy or enough water in me.

  In three large steps he crossed to me, taking my lower arms in his hands. “Kelly, we will. Things have to stabilize, return.” He gently shook me until my gaze met his. “Even if society doesn’t go back to the way they had it, I have to believe any family we have isn’t doomed to a life of scavenging and looting to survive. What kind of a life is that?”

  Family? I couldn’t imagine having a family life beyond what we had. Our attention focused on finding food and searching for resources to trade later. A kid or two in all that craziness didn’t seem fair to either party involved.

  Thundering footsteps echoed down the hall and John burst through the kitchen doorway almost at the same time the sound of the footsteps did. In seconds he took in the scene, my angry face and Bodey’s pleading one. “What happened? What’s wrong with your face?”

  “I fought him. For Kelly.” Bodey crossed his arms. I hadn’t even taken in the injuries. He’d fought Charlie for me. He’d protected me and there I stood yelling at him. Regret filled me.

  John inspected the scene again. He focused on me. “You asked him to fight for you?”

  “No, sir. Charlie wanted to take me and Bodey said he couldn’t. So they fought.” Shame filled me and I glanced down. “I think I killed him.”

  “You finished the fight? With what?” John scanned me as if for injury. His gaze lit on the tool I’d used as a weapon. “Ah. I see.”

  “How’d you know we were here?” I stepped around Charlie’s body, careful not to kick him but I can’t promise I didn’t step on his fingers. Bastard.

  “I’ve been tracking the group following us and their tracks led me to this neighborhood. The door wasn’t closed, so I took a chance. Looks like a good move to make on my part.” He checked the pantry beside him, pulling out a shaker of salt a
nd garlic seasoning. Lately we’d eaten as many dandelion weeds as possible. Sometimes we grilled them and sometimes just ate them like a salad – without the dressing.

  I had to ignore the body on the floor.

  Everything we attempted to eat went down smoother with flavor – even if the texture was off. A couple weeks ago, I’d made a pinecone broth which wasn’t great, but filled the hole in our stomachs for a few seconds. The brief respite was welcomed after hours and days of emptiness.

  As if on silent cue, Bodey and I turned to the cupboards and systematically checked them for anything we could use.

  Yells from the front yard reached us in the back of the house. We lifted our heads like prairie dogs, watching, waiting, and listening for more.

  John motioned us toward the back door. He muttered quietly. “This group is terrible. They were at the other end of the street when I got here. Let’s get going. Just leave him.”

  I pocketed packets of instant oatmeal shoved back into the corner of a deep drawer. About four of apple and cinnamon flavored. I couldn’t wait to show the guys. We pushed out the back door, stepping down the porch steps and using the cement border to keep us from leaving a trail in the overlong grass.

  We didn’t look back. I’d learned not to anymore. There was nothing behind me that would help me tomorrow or even later that day. Once we reached the woods, we hid behind a collection of thick trees and watched the house. My breathing had slowed, but my heart rate still ran fast. If Charlie really were dead, his men should find him soon and then we’d see what kind of a gang we’d just set off.

  I couldn’t care about killing him. My only regret was I hadn’t strangled him to death the night Mom and I had left that stupid camp. I’d tied him to a chair and didn’t bother finishing him off. Why? What was my reasoning? Why hadn’t Mom? Justifying unjust actions didn’t make sense to me. I shook my head and focused on the yells and shouts escalating through the house.

  Three men rushed onto the back patio, looking for someone to still be there. Like the killer would be stupid enough to hang out and have a picnic.