More than Survival: A Post-apocalyptic Love Story (3 page)

My fingers were numb by the time I was finished stacking wood inside the kitchen. The gloves I’d worn the previous day were the thickest pair I had, but they were still wet from hunting. These didn’t do much to protect me. I laid several logs out into front of the fire in hopes that they would dry faster, but I didn’t have time to rest. With each passing second the wind picked up, and the harder it blew the more the snow came down. We were on the verge of a blizzard. There wasn’t much time to find more wood.

Back outside I went, shivering from head to toe. My teeth chattered, but I did my best to ignore it, pulling my scarf tighter around my nose and mouth. Hoping to block out the wind. The cold stung my eyes and the tip of my nose was numb. So were my toes and fingers. My gloves were already wet from the snow, and I knew I needed to be back inside fast. I couldn’t risk frostbite or hypothermia.

I shuffled through the snow and past the shed, out into the woods, picking up sticks as I went. My arms were soon full and I was able to make a trip back inside, but I wanted to bring in a couple more armfuls.

After the third trip I considered stopping, but the amount of snow that was now coming down frightened me. It could trap me in the house, and then I’d be in trouble. I’d have to resort to burning the furniture, which I might never be able to replace.

I was hurrying, my arms loaded down with sticks. Barely paying attention to where I put my feet. The toe of my boot caught on something buried under the snow, and my body lurched forward. I cried out as I fell, trying to put my arms out to brace myself. But my arms were full of branches. My body slammed into the ground and I screamed when a sharp pain sliced through my left shoulder. My hands were shaking, and the snow was coming down so hard it made it difficult to see, but not so much that it covered up the splatters of red dotting the snow beneath me.

I rolled onto my back and grabbed at my throbbing shoulder only to have my stomach jumped when I realized I had a branch jutting out from under my left collar bone. Buried in my skin. Just thinking about the sharp stick piercing my body made my stomach lurch so hard I had a difficult time controlling it. I closed my eyes and swallowed down the nausea, trying to figure out what to do. I needed to get it out, but it was going to hurt like hell. As it was, the throbbing pain in my shoulder and chest was so intense, I felt on the verge of passing out.

My whole body shook, but I wasn’t sure if it was from the cold or the pain. Maybe both, but I knew I needed to get up and get moving. Get myself to safety. My skin was like ice and I was bleeding, only I didn’t know how bad the injury was. I grasped the stick with both hands and took a deep breath, then tugged. White-hot pain ripped through my body as a scream tore its way from my mouth.

The edges of my vision grew dark.

I blinked, but it didn’t help.

“No!” Tears squeezed their way out of my eyes, freezing on my cheeks as I rolled to my side in the snow. Shivers shook my body. I
needed
to get up. “Move! You can do this, Lucy!”

I tried to get on my hands and knees, but the branch pressed against the ground, causing more pain to slice through me. My stomach lurched when blood dropped onto the white snow. My head spun, but I forced myself to get up. To stand. The forest swayed, a blinding world of white that made it impossible to find my bearing. I was on my feet and determined to get inside the cabin, but I had no idea which way to go. The snow made everything look the same and it was coming down so hard I couldn’t see more than a few feet in front of me.

I was lost.

I stumbled forward a few steps, but had to lean against a tree for support. My vision faded and I blinked. My eyes didn’t focus any better. I forced my legs to move, trying to block out the blinding pain as the wind blew against the branch jutting out of me. It would be better if I could get it out, but if I tried to pull on it again, I’d pass out for sure. Then I’d be dead.

My feet felt like they were moving on their own as I made my way through the snow, but after a couple more steps my legs wobbled and gave out. I collapsed, falling forward. The branch hit the ground and I screamed in agony as pain tore at my shoulder. This time when darkness moved in, I couldn’t stop it…

“Shhh. I’ve got you.”

The words came from far away. I tried to open my eyes, but couldn’t. Someone rolled me onto my back, their hands gentle against my aching body.

“Damn. Looks like you got yourself in quite a mess.” Whoever it was had a deep voice, but it was softer than Seamus’s. More gentle. “This is going to hurt.”

I felt pressure on the stick and every muscle inside me tensed, then there was a snap. The stick moved inside my body and stars burst across my already dark vision. I screamed again.

“I’m sorry,” the man said.

Arms lifted me, firm and strong. The man cradled me against him, but I was too disoriented to hold on. He started walking. Carrying me, but to where I didn’t know. My heart pounded, causing the ache in my wound to increase. I moaned, but couldn’t get any real words out. I knew there was a reason I didn’t want to go with this man, only I couldn’t remember what it was. My body hurt too much.

A door opened and I was carried inside a building. It was warmer than it had been outside, but not by much. The man carrying me grunted as he laid me down.

“No fire?”

I blinked, trying to force my eyes to focus. When they did I saw we were in my cabin, and I was laid out on my couch. It was the same ugly, burgundy plaid pattern as the overstuffed chair I loved so much.

The man who had carried me inside stood in front of the fire. His back was to me, making it impossible for me to get a good look at him, but he was tall and broad shouldered. So much bigger than me or Seamus. Even through his jacket I could tell how muscular he was. Despite my achy, freezing state, fear clenched my heart.

He leaned down and felt the logs in front of the fire, then shook his head. “These are wet. Shit,” he said, talking to himself. “It’s probably going to be morning before they’re dry. Looks like a cold night.”

He let out a deep sigh as he ripped his hat off and tossed it aside, then turned to face me. He was quite a bit older than me, but not yet middle aged. His dark hair was straight and just a little too long, but didn’t go much past his ears. He had a couple day’s growth on his handsome face, and striking blue eyes that reminded me of the sky on a clear, spring day. His gaze focused on the room, sweeping over everything before moving back to me. His mouth turned down.

“We’re going to need to take care of this,” he said, kneeling at my side. “It’s not going to be fun, but if we don’t get it clean you could die of infection.”

I was breathing heavily, and the second his hands moved to undo my jacket all the air left my lungs. My uncle’s warning rang in my ears.

“Lucy, you’re a beautiful girl. There are men in this world who would take your virtue by force, and not even think twice about it. Society isn’t what it used to be, and there’s still no real law. I can’t keep you safe unless you listen to me.”

The man didn’t seem to notice my discomfort. He unbuttoned my jacket, but taking it off was impossible with the stick still jutting out of my shoulder. His hands went to the hem of my sweater and my heart beat even faster. But he paused before pulling it up, seeming to think better of it.

His blue eyes moved over my body to my face, studying me like he was searching for something. After a few seconds he nodded to himself, almost like he’d found the answer he was looking for.

“I want to get a look at your injury before I pull the stick out. Understand?” I nodded and he tilted his head to the side. He acted like he thought I didn’t really get it. “I’m going to pull your shirt up.”

He was right, I hadn’t understood. My cheeks grew hot and the urge to scream for help was so strong I had to swallow it down. There was no one to help me, anyway. I was alone and it hit me like a punch in the face how much I was at this man’s mercy.

He didn’t move, waiting patiently for me calm down. It took almost a full minute for my breathing to slow, and even then I was so tense it felt like my body had turned to stone.

“Ready?” he asked, moving his hands back to the hem of my shirt.

I nodded, then squeezed my eyes shut as he slowly pulled my sweater up. Cold air caressed my stomach, then the skin over my rib cage. When my bare breasts were exposed, the tiny buds at their peaks hardened from the icy air. I sucked in a deep breath, and the man moved my sweater higher. When he exhaled, I couldn’t keep my eyes closed any longer.

His eyes met mine and the blush that had warmed my cheeks earlier grew until I was sure my face would burst into flames. He didn’t seem to be embarrassed at all, though, which only made the whole situation even more mortifying.

“I need to pull it out,” he said gently.

I swallowed, trying to find my voice. Thinking of him removing the stick from my body wasn’t nearly as awful as laying in front of him naked. I wanted it over with. No one had ever seen me without clothes on, and having this stranger so close to my bare flesh made my whole body tremble with fear.

“Do it fast,” I said, staring at the ceiling so I wouldn’t have to meet his piercing gaze.

The man took another deep breath as he grabbed the base of the branch. I expected him to count, to give me some kind of warning, but he didn’t. He yanked the wood out and my whole body jerked as my scream echoed through the cabin.

Blood pooled on my chest, seeping from the tiny puncture wound, and the man’s eyes got huge. “Shit. Do you have first aid stuff?”

“Kitchen,” I gasped, still trying to calm my pounding heart. “Pantry.”

The man got to his feet and ran for the kitchen, leaving me alone with my naked, aching body. I wanted to pull my sweater down, but there was blood everywhere. Instead, I covered the wound with my bare hand. The blood felt hot and sticky against my icy fingers.

A few seconds later, he was back, carrying a couple rags and the bottle of alcohol Uncle Seamus used for injuries. The man pushed my hands away and put the rag next to the wound, then poured alcohol directly into it. I sucked in a deep breath and forced myself not to cry out as the alcohol stung its way through the hole. It felt like it was searing my insides. I clenched my hands into tight fists and forced myself to hold still, knowing the pain was worth it. We needed to be certain the wound was clean.

“Hold this.” The man forced my hand over the rag, pushing it against the injury so hard it literally throbbed against my palm. Then he got to his feet and pulled me up to a sitting position. “We need to take this off.”

He slipped my jacket over my arms, then went for my sweater, causing warning bells to go off in my brain and every inch of my skin to heat up.

I shook my head, pushing him away with my free hand as panic swirled around inside me. “What? No!”

“We have to clean it.” His voice was tender, but firm. When I didn’t move, he let out a deep sigh. “Do it, or I’ll hold you down and cut the thing off.”

My body trembled harder, and my uncle’s words swirled through my head again. I was terrified of what this man had in store for me once he got me naked, but there was nothing I could do. Even healthy I would be no match for him, but with as weak and scared as I was right now, he would be able to overpower me with almost no effort. Maybe it was better not to fight.

I kept the rag pressed against the wound, so the man had to help me wiggle out of the sweater. It dropped to the floor, and my stomach followed. Now naked from the waist up, I had the urge to cross my arms over chest, but my injury prevented it. Then it didn’t matter, because the man pushed my hand off the wound and ordered me to stay still.

He moved closer, trying to get a better look as he cleaned it, and his wrist brushed against my nipple. An odd tingling sensation went through my body, and my face grew hotter than ever. I couldn’t look him in the eye, but when I snuck a couple peeks his way, he wasn’t focused on my breasts. He was too busy taking care of my injury.

“It doesn’t look too bad,” he said, leaning even closer. “I’m going to need to clean it out a little more, but it should heal pretty well. You got lucky.”

His warm breath brushed over my breasts and a very strange sensation began in the pit of my stomach. It was like nothing I’d ever felt before. It was pleasant, but in a confusing way, and as the seconds ticked by and the man’s strong hands moved over my skin more and more, the sensation grew in intensity. Soon, I found myself squirming under his touch, oblivious to the pain of him cleaning my wound. He moved closer and the warmth spread, turning into an ache that settled between my thighs. I had the almost uncontrollable urge to squeeze my legs together, as if that would somehow ease the ache.

I had no idea what my body was doing.

“That’s the best I can do.” He leaned back and pressed a clean cloth hard against my injured shoulder. “Hold this again.”

I nodded, unable to find my voice, and took over holding the cloth.

The man grabbed a roll of bandages off the table and slowly unwound it. “Hold your arm up.”

I complied, and he wrapped the bandage around me. Starting at the wound, he stretched the bandages under my arm then over my back and down my shoulder. Over and over he went, making quick work of it. His hands brushing across my skin, occasionally nudging my breast. Making the heat inside me increase and my heart beat faster. His knuckles swept over my nipple and I sucked in a deep breath. His eyes met mine, but he didn’t smile or act like he was in any way affected. Not like I was. Heat spread through me, but this time it was from more than just embarrassment.