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Authors: Meghan Ciana Doidge

BOOK: After The Virus
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He talked about each item in terms of function and safety as he tucked it away in the backpack. She watched his hands more than his face, but as he zipped the pack and crossed around the table to hand it to her, she slipped off her stool and turned her back so he could slip it over her too-slim-for-such-a-burden arms. She patted his knee and later added her crayons and coloring book to the empty outside pocket.

Then he taught her how to shoot a gun.

CHAPTER FIVE

RHIANNON

Other than evidence of travelers along the road, she hadn’t seen anyone since Wee Wee a week back, after which she’d changed course twice.

Rhiannon had known something was up the second she entered this middle-of-nowhere town. Except for a few boarded windows, the buildings were… tidy. Even though the place looked deserted, she leashed B.B. The mountains loomed immediately behind them, but here the land was flat and dry.
 

After she’d found the Beretta, she traveled by day. It was easier to shoot what you could see, and thanks to lots of film prep, she was deadly.

She eyed the almost inviting hotel, but as she approached the general store, she heard the music.
Paul Simon
, she thought.
He’s old then.

She adjusted her hat so it was low, but without compromising her sight lines. She’d been dressing as manly as possible for her slight frame.

As if he’d heard her approach, he stepped around the corner of the store. His rifle was slung over his shoulder. He stopped when he saw them.

B.B. didn’t growl.

He grinned, and she was surprised that she noticed he was oddly beautiful — rough, tanned and manly — not her usual type. He threw his head back and laughed, delighted, and then hunkered back on his heels and held his hand out to B.B. She let B.B. off the leash.

B.B. hesitated. The guy wiggled his fingers, still grinning, and to Rhiannon’s surprise, B.B. wagged the tail she barely had and bounded to him. B.B. nuzzled his hand. Then he let her lick his face, all the while laughing like a kid. She was unjustifiably jealous of B.B.’s affection.

She moved closer and caught the dark look that passed across his face when he saw B.B.’s numerous newly healed wounds. Then he looked up.

He wasn’t old. Maybe younger than her; if she ever admitted her true age. Then, with a thrill, she realized, there was no reason not to.

“It’s been months since I’ve seen a dog,” he said.

Now that she was near, she thought he might be part native, but that didn’t fit her impression of the twang in his accent.
A native cowboy?
She shouldn’t tease, but she thought it best to know quickly how easily he rattled. So she pulled off her glasses and asked, “And a woman?”

CHAPTER SIX

WILL

Her sky-blue eyes cut his soul, though he instantly felt stupid for thinking so. He also thought he might know her, but dismissed that.

“About the same,” he drawled, glad, not for the first time, that his sister’s tendency to leap around corners had made him hard to surprise.

He glanced at the gun on her hip, the knife strapped to her leg, as he slowly gained his feet. He didn’t want to stare, but couldn’t help it. She’d looked away to survey Main Street, so he could really only see the line of her jaw. She must be sweltering under all those layers.

“Where are all the bodies?” she asked and he noted that she had no distinguishable accent.

“I cleaned,” he replied, blunt but kind about it.

“Ah,” she breathed, and then actually raised her perfect nose to sniff the air. “Bonfire,” she concluded.

“Seemed best,” he agreed.

She stepped away to look into the store. He’d been restocking the shelves, which, he was aware, might make him seem more than a little crazy.

“You alone?” He called her attention back, but then instantly regretted the tension his aggression evoked as she placed her hand on her gun.

“Just B.B. and me,” she answered, testily. The dog glanced at the woman, opened its mouth in a big grin and lifted its nose for another pat.

“Well, I imagine you’re both hungry,” he offered, and was confused when her jaw clenched and she looked out of town as if planning to leave.

“Just because you didn’t rape me at first sight doesn’t mean I’m your friend,” she finally sneered, and he caught the edge of fear in her.

“I never did make friends easy.” He spoke in a light tone like he would with a wounded animal, which, he didn’t have to guess, she’d been. The woman looked at the dog, B.B., who hadn’t left his side, and then suddenly, he could feel the utter weariness she didn’t let show.

She pulled a glove off and offered him her gun hand. “Rhiannon,” she said. Her skin seared his when he folded his callused hand around hers.

CHAPTER SEVEN

RHIANNON

He held her eyes with his own, which were dark brown, and then, with a grin, offered his name. ”Will.” She remembered she should let go of his hand.

He sauntered around the store with B.B. at his heels. She knew she would follow, but momentarily thought of the freedom she had found alone. He looked back, not assuming her compliance, but really genuine in his concern, which was almost impossible to fake even for the most cunningly skilled.

B.B. trusts him
, her weary brain offered, while her gut screamed to keep on moving and moving on. She was just too tired to keep walking.

B.B. climbed into the back of the truck like she did it every day. Maybe she had; her history was a mystery, not like her own puppet strings. The truck was an old red Ford, and Rhiannon wondered if he liked pretending to be a cliche; a certain safety came with playing a role. He opened the door for her, but then crossed to the driver’s side.

“You have gasoline,” she stated.

“No one to compete with,” he replied.

She climbed in and immediately started digging through the glove box. He didn’t seem to mind; she found a handgun, a knife, and granola bars.

“Perhaps it’s rude to mention, but the two of you look more than a little banged up, though mostly healed, so…” He let the question linger.
 

“I took care of it,” she answered, tersely. True, that billboard still haunted her, but there’s no way they’d be following her through all her random turns.

“I’m sorry it was necessary at all…” he started, but she cut him off.

“That’s just the world we live in now.”

He didn’t push the subject.


They continued in silence for another ten minutes. Then, the road rapidly left the little town behind and curved into the mountain valley. Seemingly at random, Will stopped and hopped out of the truck to clear some brush, drove in, and then concealed the entrance to the turn-off again. So he left the town open and inviting, but hid where he laid his head. She wondered what that said about him, but was really not into analyzing anything at the moment.

A large well-kept house was nestled in the evergreens at the end of a long driveway. Its cedar shingles had grayed. Will parked by the front double doors.

Still not sure about this, Rhiannon crossed to the truck bed and lowered the tailgate to put B.B. on leash. Will grabbed a box of supplies, which included Froot Loops cereal: odd choice for a grown man.

She turned to the house and saw a nine-year-old girl holding a sawed-off shotgun trained on her. The girl held the gun hip high and wedged against a front patio post.

“Ahh.” Actually, she didn’t know what to say. Will carted his box up the stairs, and the girl adjusted her aim around him as he passed.

“This is Snickers,” Will said, as he entered the house.
 

The girl didn’t move, so Rhiannon didn’t move.

B.B. also seemed a little unsure.

Will crossed back out.

“Um, she’s your sister?” she asked, as he grabbed another box from the truck.

“Nope,” he unhelpfully responded.

“Hello, Snickers,” she tried.

No response.

“Snickers doesn’t talk much, like, not once since we met, but she’s a great cook!” Will said.

“And, I’m guessing, she can shoot that gun,” she said, grimly.
 

“Wouldn’t do her much good if she couldn’t,” he replied. “We practice, lots. Snickers, that’s enough aiming of the gun. This is B.B. and Rhiannon. I wouldn’t bring them here if I thought they’d hurt you.”

Snickers grudgingly lowered the shotgun, slung it across her shoulders with a silk scarf she had tied to each end, and entered the house.

So we’re not his first strays
, Rhiannon thought, and instantly felt more at ease. The girl looked unscathed, definitely loopy, but no bruises. And, even though she knew it was a dangerous thought to have in this chaotic reality, she actually whispered out loud, “Maybe, maybe this is all going to be okay.”

Then she followed B.B., who was already loping off into the house.

CHAPTER EIGHT

WILL

He’d been worried about the introduction, had hoped the presence of the dog would smooth it, but B.B. didn’t seem to register for Snickers. He felt off. Snickers’ shotgun swung from her shoulders, Rhiannon all but radiated heat behind him, and B.B.’s nails clicked on the hardwood.

They’d settled into a kind of routine, Snickers and him, for the last ten days, but Rhiannon was an unknown, another in a long list.

Snickers climbed on her stool to stir the pasta sauce she had made. He put the box on the table and turned to catch Rhiannon’s reaction. Rhiannon stared at the working electric stove and raised her hand to flick the light switch. The light over the kitchen table turned on.

“Electricity?” she asked.

“Multiple generators,” he answered, trying to stop his chest from swelling too large, but enjoying her amazement.

Snickers crossed to turn off the light and then resumed chopping carrots.

“We’re still careful about how much we use,” he said.

“Fresh veggies?” Rhiannon moaned as she removed her hat to expose her golden hair. He could feel the silly grin taking over his face again.

“Greenhouse out back, self-watering. It was crazy overgrown, but Snickers has tamed it.” He was happy he sounded steady, despite the grin.

Rhiannon swayed, dead on her feet. He reached for her despite the wary look Snickers threw his way, but she stepped out of his grasp.

“You’ll want a shower,” he offered as cover. “The bedroom to the left of the main bath has clothes that might fit.” He indicated the stairs.

Rhiannon looked unsure, but seemed compelled to ask, “A hot shower?”

“You wouldn’t want a cold one,” he teased.

“Right.” She seemed to be lost within her own thoughts.

“Snickers, we’ll have to pick up dog food for B.B.,” he said. Snickers leaped down to write DOG FOOD on the magnetic list on the fridge.

Rhiannon looked like her head might implode, and Will worried he was playing it too cool. If B.B.’s appearance was any indication, they’d been through hell and more.

“Or you could sleep,” he started, but then Rhiannon snapped to awareness.

“Yes, thank you… I… thank you.” She backed out of the room with B.B.

Will stepped forward to watch Rhiannon climb the stairs.

Snickers tossed carrots into the sauce.

He placed a hand on her tiny head, a gesture she accepted now.

“Maybe she’ll stay, maybe not,” he soothed, “but we’ll be okay either way. I found some Wagon Wheels.” He pulled the peace offering from the box of supplies.

CHAPTER NINE

RHIANNON

The clothes didn’t fit, but she didn’t care. They were clean and actually pretty… well, compared to the black canvas she’d been swathed in. The shower had been hot, just like he, Will, had said. There was honey and vanilla in the soap, and Rhiannon had almost started crying at the smell.

When she’d stepped out of the shower to make sure the door was locked for the second time, she noticed that B.B. was asleep on the floor.
B.B. feels safe
, she scolded herself, but then chafed at the idea of a man protecting her.
What if, what if
, her brain clamored, but never completed.

She’d heard him calling when she was dressing, but still testing him, she didn’t answer. He passed her open door on the way to the bathroom.

“Rhiannon? Dinner,” he called.

“Yeah?” she murmured. He turned back, and she, wearing only a skirt, made sure her bare back faced the door. She knew he’d caught sight. All the air sucked from the room. She pulled her shirt on, noting in the mirror that he stared steadily away.

“You up for some dinner? We found some canned meat for B.B.” His voice broke slightly, but maybe only a trained ear would have caught it.

“Thanks. We’ll be right there.” She turned toward him, but he didn’t look at her as he left. She felt oddly aroused, or maybe disappointed, but definitely awake.


Later, after the dishwashing — he’d dried — Rhiannon sat in the living room bay window and watched the sunset burn the sky behind the mountains.

B.B. slept by the unlit fireplace.

Will read a book,
World War Z
of all choices.

Rhiannon breathed. She hadn’t been this calm in… maybe ever. She watched Snickers, who was crashed on the sofa and cuddled up with her shotgun. She felt the moment Will’s attention hit her.

“We’re locked in for the night if that’s what’s worrying you,” he whispered.

She shook her head and indicated the gun. ”Not loaded, is it?”

“Wouldn’t do her much good if it wasn’t,” he replied, and returned to his book.

“That your answer for everything?” she asked.

He laughed, and then soberly stated, “It’s a world gone mad.”
 

Quickly changing the subject, she tried, “How long have you guys been here?”

He shrugged and guessed. “Two months, maybe, for me. Ten days for Snickers.”

“Snickers?” she asked.

“Were what she was eating,” he answered.

“Amazing she didn’t get snatched. If it’s not the rebuild humanity one-rape-at-a-time group, it’s murderers or the Infected.”

“The Infected?” he asked, and she was glad she had recent news to offer for his generosity. She never did like owing anyone.

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