- - End of All Things, The (30 page)

Justin rolled over to face her. His hand tightened on hers until it was an almost bruising pressure. “Oh, God, Carly, do you really mean it?”

“Yes, I mean it. I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it with all my heart. I’ve never felt this way.”

He brushed the hair back from her forehead. “I love you, Carly.”

She choked back a gasp. “Really? I—Are you—?”

Justin chuckled. “Articulate as ever, sweetheart. Yes, I love you. Did you ever doubt it?”

He’d never said the words, but looking back, he didn’t need to. He’d said it with every one of his little acts of kindness, his thoughtfulness, and his care for her. It was in the sweet gestures he made, like the picnic in the library, the wildflower he’d picked the week before and inserted in her hair behind her ear. Tears trickled from her eyes as she drew him down for a soft, sweet kiss.

Chapter Seven

Carly was pissed. She stomped around the campsite and yanked things from the back of the wagon, glaring at Justin whenever he dared approach. He gave her a tentative smile, but all that earned him was a snarl. She yanked out a plastic box of meds and slammed it down on top of another, her lips pursed so tightly they were nothing but a small white line.

The day had started out well, but after breakfast Justin had said he felt much better and intended to bike back to the pileup where he’d been shot. Carly had argued he wasn’t healed enough for that, especially if he ran into trouble. Then she tried insisting she go with him, but he wouldn’t be budged on that either.

Justin picked up a case of water bottles and moved it to the ground, hiding a wince when the weight of the thing irritated his wound, but Carly was far too observant to let it go unnoticed. She crossed her arms and tapped her foot.

“Carly, honey, I’m
fine
. Just a little sore, okay?”

“You don’t know that! You could be pulling your wound open and bleeding inside or something.”

“This isn’t the first time I’ve been shot,” he said. “I know my limits. I won’t overdo it. I promise.”

Her eyes widened in horror, and he didn’t think she’d heard the latter part of his statement. No, it was the thought of him being shot before that horrified her.

“The scars,” she said, her voice faint.

He chuckled. “Well, not all of them.” He tugged her into his arms, and she laid her head over his heart. He could feel the tension fade away as she snuggled against him. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Please,
please
be careful.”

“I will.” Justin kissed her, and she clung to him for a long moment before releasing him. She pushed a lock of hair back behind her ear and gave him a wobbly smile. “I intend to be mad at you again when you get back.”

He laughed. “Thanks for the warning.”

“Take Sam with you,” she urged.

Justin shook his head. “I want him here, with you.”

She sighed. “You know, Justin, one of the most important parts of a relationship is compromise.”

“I’ll work on that,” he said and gave her lips another quick kiss. “As soon as I get back.”

“Hurry.”

“I will.”

She brought him one of the assault rifles—proof of how much anxiety his proposed journey gave her; he didn’t think she’d touched one of those rifles since they’d left Juneau. 

He set off down the driveway, pulling the lightened wagon behind his bicycle. He was tired by the time he got to the road. His wound had made him weaker than he thought. He couldn’t tell Carly, though; she’d probably make him stay in bed for a week.

He chuckled ruefully. Carly had a bossy streak he hadn’t expected, but he found it adorable, knowing she did it from love. That stubborn refusal to give up had probably saved his life.

He’d been wrong. Carly was not dependent on him. She had shown she could rise to any challenge. His worst fear had nearly materialized: leaving Carly on her own to fend for herself, and she had proven she had the guts and strength of will it took to survive, even if she didn’t quite realize it yet.

It was comforting to know she would be able to make it on her own if something happened to him. As he pulled his bike up to the two wrecked cars, he reflected how it almost had.

The two bodies lay where they had fallen, and a pair of buzzards picking at the woman’s face gave him sullen looks before taking off to wait in a nearby tree. Justin found the body of the man at the side of the road just as Carly had said, one hole in his chest and another two in his head. He smiled slightly as he recalled the way he’d explained the need for a second shot to her.

“You’ve seen horror movies where they shoot the bad guy and then turn around to gasp in relief, and he stands up behind them to chase after them one last time?”
She had giggled, but he was glad to see she’d taken it to heart.

The woman lay in front of the cars. Justin scooped up her crossbow from the road beside her and yanked off the quiver of arrows she wore. He tossed them into the wagon for trade goods before circling around the cars to their campsite.

A pitifully small fire had been built but had burned out before it consumed the wood. It told him all he needed to know; they were ill-equipped to survive in this new world, so the couple had turned to preying on others. He wondered if the burned-out house had belonged to one of them. It would make sense. They could have set it on fire accidentally with a candle or cooking fire and moved out here to steal from those who traveled the road.

There was a small selection of cans in a red Radio Flyer wagon and a few boxes of ammo, though no guns for it. He supposed it was possible someone had come by and already taken them, but it was more likely the crossbow had been their only weapon, and the ammo had been scavenged or stolen from another unwary traveler. 

He picked up Carly’s bike, put it in the wagon, and left the bodies to the buzzards. Creatures like that didn’t deserve a burial. He’d seen their kind before—too many times—in Rwanda, Somalia, and Darfur; places where the ugliest side of human nature had been unleashed when law and order had fallen apart. 

If he could have one wish, it would be to protect Carly from this, to ensure she never knew the staggering evil of which human beings were capable. Her sunny optimism and belief that people were fundamentally good at heart were things he loved about her . . . and things he feared would change in this brutal new world.

He mounted his bike and started the ride back to the house, deep in thought.

Justin returned with her bike lying in the back of the wagon and Jeanie’s crossbow lying beside it. Carly had to swallow back nausea when she saw it, but she understood the wisdom of taking it. It had proven itself to be a good weapon, after all. He brought with it a quiver of arrows, each with a four-blade, razor-sharp tip. Carly shuddered when she saw them. Thank goodness the arrow had gone all the way through. She couldn’t imagine having to dig that out of his body.

“I’m proud of you, Carly,” Justin said. “You remembered what I told you.”

Carly nodded. “That’s how I found the creek, too. I remembered what you said about following the land to its lowest point.”

“Smartest woman I know,” he said, and she flushed a little at the pride in his voice.

“Good teacher.”

Justin pulled her into his arms and stroked her hair back from her face. “You saved my life, you know. In some cultures, that means I’m bound to you for as long as I live.”

She tried to smile. “That sounds fair.”

He lowered his face to hers and brushed a feather-soft kiss across Carly’s lips. “I love you, Carly. You own me, you know. Heart and soul.”

She smiled at him through the tears glistening in her eyes. “And I belong to you, so it’s an even trade.”

Carly helped Justin reload the wagon, gathering up the things she had strewn over their campsite in her temper, and blushed a bit when Justin teased her about it. “I just worry about you. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” 

She wished he could promise she’d never have to find out, but it wasn’t a world where that was possible.

They headed south. Justin’s chosen route followed the highway, but Carly convinced him to take the small side roads instead. They’d be much less likely to run into trouble that way. She liked North Dakota’s layout—very simple and straightforward—its roads and streets laid out in grids.

Their travel was slow. Justin still didn’t have all of his strength back. Carly tried to get him to exchange bikes and let her pull the wagon for a while, but he flat out refused.

By lunchtime, Carly could see he was exhausted, so she complained of leg cramps until he suggested they find a good place and settle in for the night. She feigned reluctance, but agreed, trying to hide her smirk.

There was a little house, tucked back off the road in a small patch of trees. Justin went to investigate while Carly lingered at the end of the driveway. She was a bit irritated he had insisted she stay behind; she wasn’t sure he was fully up to strength to face any trouble on his own. She knew he did it to spare her, in case there were bodies in the house, but it was dangerous to approach the house alone.
We’re a team, aren’t we
?

He came back around the side of the house and motioned her forward, and Carly rode her bike down the gravel driveway. They parked the bikes around back and entered the house from the back, as well. It was small, one story, and simple. In the yard behind it, a windmill turned lazily in the breeze. The house’s sternly plain façade was covered with white painted clapboards and its windows were plain rectangles, devoid of any ornamentation. The interior was a surprise, lovingly decorated with lush fabrics and the kind of bold color schemes on the walls she’d seen in magazines but would never be brave enough to try in her own home.

As she often did when they entered a home, she wondered about the woman who had chosen this décor. She had painted one wall of the living room a bright red, and the color was echoed in the throw pillows on the plump, padded furniture. The effect was warm and cheerful, and Carly wondered if one’s environment reflected their personality. Her own home had been strictly well-ordered, with plain white walls and color constrained to items affordably switched out when the mood took her. Simple, practical, neat. 

“They have a propane tank,” Justin said as he came back into the living room. “The stove is hooked up to it.”

Carly smiled. “Cooking on a stove? That seems downright weird after all this time.”

There was a small barn out back, not much larger than a tool shed, but there was still some straw in the mow above, and Carly spread a layer on the floor for Shadowfax while Justin unloaded the things they’d need for the evening from the wagon and wheeled it inside to conceal it from any passers-by. 

Shadowfax had discovered the vegetable garden behind the house and was in horse heaven by the time Carly had finished and headed back into the house. Though they always checked gardens for anything edible, after months of being untended, the vegetables were usually rotting or half-eaten by bugs and animals. Shadowfax, who was less particular than the humans feasted happily. 

Sam was a little nervous at being indoors and preceded Carly into every room, sniffing intently. In the bedroom, she stopped to change the sheets, using a folded set she found in the linen cupboard. Sleeping in someone else’s bed felt strange enough, but it also seemed unhygienic to trust the sheets were clean.

She went back into the kitchen and down the stairs into the basement. She shined her flashlight around and hollered up to Justin, “You’re gonna want to see this!”

She heard his feet clomp on the unpainted wood steps behind her. “Holy shit,” he said.

The homeowners had a huge stockpile of food. Most of it was stored in Mason jars, but there were also rows of cans on the shelf. They must have treated the basement as their pantry.

“I’m going to need a bigger wagon,” Justin said and rubbed his hands together in glee. “We’ve got to take all of this stuff. It’s too good to pass up.”

“We can restack the stuff in the wagon. There’s room if we move some things around.”

“But how do we keep the jars from knocking together and breaking?”