- - End of All Things, The (7 page)

Justin pulled her into his arms and whispered soft, soothing things. He rocked her and let her cry against his chest until her sobs had diminished into hiccups. A wet nose pressed against her face, and Sam cleaned her tears off her cheeks. His amber eyes were strangely compassionate, as if he understood more about the world around him than an animal should.

“Better?” Justin asked, smoothing back her tumbled hair.

“Yes, I’m sorry, I just . . .”

“It was overdue. You needed to get it out.” His smile was gentle, and she gazed into his eyes, so dark brown they seemed almost black from some angles. Though the color should have made them seem sinister, they were warm and kind. She lost track of time for a moment, gazing into their depths before Sam jarred her back to reality by bumping her with his head.

Carly realized she was draped over Justin and struggled to her feet. Justin rose, as graceful as a ballet dancer, and took her hand. She held onto it long after they had finished crossing the bridge.

Chapter Two

The door to the gun store was solid metal with a set of bars over the top of it. The windows were darkly tinted and menacing, covered with bars as well, and placed high on the walls. Justin couldn’t simply bash his way inside this one. He reached into his pocket and took out a kit of tiny tools. “Hold these for me.”

Carly held out her hands, cupping the little tool kit of tiny, pick-like instruments. “What is this?”

“Lock-picking kit.” Justin knelt down in front of the door. He inserted one of the tools into the keyhole and jiggled it before selecting another one and inserting it above the first.

“Where did you learn how to pick locks?” Carly asked, both impressed and a little horrified.

“Gymboree.”

She giggled, and he turned to grin at her before selecting a different tool.

Within moments, the lock clicked, and he pushed the door open with caution. “Stay out here for a minute,” Justin said, and she certainly wasn’t going to argue. He slipped inside, and she saw his flashlight beam bounce around through the window beside the door.

“Come on in.”

Carly pushed her cart to the side and parked it next to Justin’s. She and Sam walked inside in a pool of light from her flashlight. She flashed it around the room and gave an impressed hum to see almost all of the stock intact. The store was overcrowded with merchandise. Racks of hunting clothing took up most of the floor space. Carly wove her way between them to the back where Justin was selecting guns from the wall behind the counter.

“Yeah, I know. No looting.”

“This shop is—
was
— owned by John Drake. Knowing him, he probably sat outside the door with a loaded shotgun and dared people to try it.”

“Have you ever fired a gun, Carly?”

“My dad took me to the shooting range once.”

“Just once?” Justin seemed surprised. “I would have thought . . . Well, never mind. Do you remember how it’s done?”

“Just point and pull the trigger.” Carly shuffled her feet. He seemed to be indicating he wanted her to have a gun, and she was a little uncomfortable with the idea. Why did he want her to have it, anyway? So he’d be more comfortable with leaving her behind when he moved on?

“It’s a tad more complicated, but that’s a good start, at least.” Justin smashed the butt of his flashlight into the top of a glass case containing pistols and plucked one off the velvet liner. “Hold this one and tell me how it feels.”

Carly took it. She rotated her wrist and looked down at it. “It feels like a gun.”

“Silly girl, hold it like you’re going to shoot it.”

She slipped her finger through the trigger guard and gripped the butt with her palm. “It’s awkward. It makes my hand hurt to stretch that much.” 

“Try this one.” Justin handed her a smaller gun, and this one fit into her hand perfectly.

“It’s a twenty-two, so it’s not going to have a lot of power or range, but it will work well on close targets.” Justin hopped over the counter and began to fill one of the store’s shopping bags with small boxes of ammunition. “Give me your tote. We need to take as much of this as we can.”

“What kind?”

“Any of it. If it won’t work in our guns, it will be excellent for trading.”

“You keep talking about trading. With
whom
?”

“We’re sure to meet other people on the road.”

What road?
And then she remembered what he had said about leaving
. Going to . . . Where was it? Florida, or something like that?
And then she realized he’d said
we
as though he assumed she would be going along. She felt her temper flare but another idea occurred to her. She forgot about her anger as her eyes widened and her heart sped up. “Do you think there are places where the Infection didn’t reach? Places that are still normal?”

Justin stopped taking boxes from the shelf and turned to her, his dark eyes full of sorrow. “No, Carly. There aren’t any places that weren’t hit by the Infection. I had contacts in other countries, all around the world. No place was left unscathed. There isn’t any ‘normal’ anymore.”

Carly blinked hard, trying to force back her tears. She didn’t want to accept it. She didn’t want to believe it. But she couldn’t hide from the truth any longer. She saw the gun lying on the counter, and for just a moment, she considered—

Justin put his hand over it and said her name, his voice low and soft. Carly shook her head and turned back to the ammunition, raking boxes into her tote bag.

He selected a few more guns, placing them inside a long tote case he found in the accessories section. Carly winced a little when she saw some of those evil-looking rifles. She was relatively uncomfortable with a handgun. She hoped he didn’t expect her to use one of those black machine guns.

Justin selected a folding crossbow and took all of the arrows in stock.

“What’s that for?”

“It’s silent.”

Carly didn’t want to think about scenarios where that would be important. She helped him load the guns and ammo into their carts without comment.

They walked back across the bridge. Carly kept her eyes glued to the sidewalk this time and didn’t look up until they reached the other side. She trudged behind Justin, leaning on her cart handle as she went.

“Go on upstairs,” Justin said when they reached the apartment building. “I’ll carry this stuff up.”

“I’ll help.”

Justin shuffled through the bags and handed her several of the light ones, and then he tied the handles of two bags together and laid them over Sam’s back, who seemed very proud to be carrying part of the load. Carly trudged up the stairs and unlocked her door. Sam bolted inside and went straight to his water bowl, lapping eagerly. 

Carly smacked her forehead. “Oh, Sam, I’m sorry! I should have thought to take along some water for you.”

“What’s wrong?” Justin asked, a huge mass of shopping bags dangling from each hand.

“He was
thirsty!
” Carly pulled another bottle of water from the case on her counter and poured it into his bowl. Sam wagged his tail and gave her hand a lick of thanks.

“Carly, it’s okay. He was fine.”

“I’m so inconsiderate!” Maybe it was the combined stress of the day, or maybe she hadn’t cried out all of her tears on the bridge. Whatever it was, Carly felt like she was an inch or so away from collapsing into a blubbering mess.

“Stop,” Justin said, and his voice was so calm and firm, she felt a little foolish. Her embarrassment actually helped to get herself under control. She didn’t want Justin to think she was a flake. “Don’t beat yourself up over this. He was fine. Now, come here and help me put some of this stuff away. I don’t know where you put things, but I imagine there’s some alphabetizing involved.”

Carly flushed a little, but she was able to give him a small smile. “It makes things easier to find.”

“I’m sure it does. I’m more of a
shove-things-around-and-swear-until-you-find-it
kind of guy.” He started opening bags and placing the items on the counter. Carly smiled at him, though his back was to her and he couldn’t see it. She appreciated his attempts to lighten the situation with humor. A few days ago, she never would have imagined the scary-looking Biker Guy could be so kind.

She tried for a joke of her own. “It’s not your fault. You’re a man, and you didn’t evolve to be able to find things.”

“Okay, I’ve gotta hear the explanation for this.” Justin crossed his arms and leaned back against the refrigerator while Carly put away the canned food. He smiled at her in encouragement.

“It’s simple, really. Our brains developed in different ways because of the different tasks we had. Men just had to run around, find something to bash over the head, and drag back to camp as food, while women had to remember where the berry bushes and fruit trees were. So, we women ended up with a better visual memory, and you guys ended up standing in front of the refrigerator, yelling, ‘Honey, where’s the ketchup?’ ”

“That is an interesting theory.” Justin chuckled and scratched his chin. “Another theory is we don’t want to waste time looking for stuff, so we yell to ask you where it is since you’re the one who probably put it away.”

Carly closed the cupboard doors as she tried to smother a grin. “You’d rather be thought of as lazy, than accept women have superior brains?”

“Ah, but we men are better at bashing things.”

“Conceded.” Carly went over to the line of bags along the wall that contained the drugs and guns—an awful-sounding combination. “Where do you want to put this stuff?”

“Do you have a spare bedroom?”

“Yeah, it’s down the hall, second door to the right.” Justin hauled it all into the bedroom, except for the bag he brought back with the explanation that it contained her
girl stuff
. Carly snatched it from him with a bit of a blush and took it into the bathroom. There, she stared with longing at the toilet. She really had to pee, but what could she do?

She opened the door. “Um, Justin, could you come here for a moment?”

He stepped up to the door. “Yes?”

“There’s no way to make my toilet work.” Carly bit her lip. “Any suggestions?”

“Since I suppose using a bucket is out of the question, I’ll walk down to the creek and get a few buckets of water you can use for flushing.”

Carly beamed at him. “Thank you! Hey, where have you—” She stopped. “Never mind.”

Justin laughed as he headed out the apartment door.

Carly thought about it while he was gone and came to a decision as he came through the door, carrying two large pails of water. 

“Justin?”

“Yeah?” He put both buckets in the bathroom and took off the lid of her toilet tank.

“I was thinking you could stay in the spare room if you wanted. You don’t have to sleep out in the hall.”

He nodded. “Thanks, Carly. I’ll do that.” His smile told her he understood what a big step she was taking toward trusting him by allowing him to stay in her home.

Carly shuffled her feet for a moment and then headed back into the kitchen. She was a little nervous about it, truth be told. No man had ever stayed in her apartment with her, and she still wasn’t certain she could trust him. But he’d been good to her, kind to Sam, and helpful in ways she didn’t fully comprehend yet. She was thinking about her situation with a clearer mind since they’d talked about it.

Carly opened two cans of pork and beans and poured them into bowls. A cold dinner, but at least they’d have something. If it had been left up to Carly, she would probably be staring with dull helplessness into her empty cabinets, wondering what to do next. She owed a lot to Justin already.

“What’s for dinner, honey?” Justin asked with a grin.

“Pork ‘n’ beans. Eat it while it’s cold.”

He chuckled. “If you’d prefer, I could go outside and start a fire, and we can heat it up and eat hot food like civilized people.”

“Too much effort.” Carly shoveled in her first bite. 

“Have you given any more thought to your situation here, Carly?”

She set the bowl down on the counter, no longer hungry. “I have. I think you’re right. I don’t have what I need here to survive. And as much as I hate it, I think I’ll have to leave. I don’t know if I want to go to Florida, but I have to find a better place to live than my apartment. Maybe a house with a fireplace or something.”

“Do you know how difficult it is to keep a house warm using only a wood fireplace or stove?”

“No, not really.” Carly admitted it with a bit of reluctance. “I know there are lots of people who do it, so it can’t be too bad, right?”

Justin shook his head. “For one person? Chopping all that wood?”

“
Chopping
. What do you mean? Like, cutting down trees?” She had been leaning more toward finding wood to burn. There was a hardware store on the other side of town that sold lumber but she’d still have to cut that up, wouldn’t she? 

He chuckled, and Carly felt a flare of anger. “Look, I’m sorry I don’t know this stuff. I may look stupid to you, but I—”

“Wait, Carly, no, I don’t think you’re stupid.” His humor vanished the instant he realized she’d been stung by his comment, and his voice gentled. “You just don’t have an inkling of what it takes; most people wouldn’t if they had no experience with it. But, you need to understand we’re talking about life and death here. You could freeze to death if you didn’t know what to do, or if you weren’t able to get enough wood split to keep you warm over winter. Even with chainsaws and log-splitters, it’s a lot of work. That’s why I suggested a warmer climate. It would be better for you in the long run.”