Dark clouds are gathering on the horizon. No idea what the plan is for our temporary accommodation tonight. However, sleeping under the stars is out of the question. The thought of going from house to house, searching for an abode unoccupied by the dead, does not appeal. Death has a smell that seeps intoyour pores and isn’t soon forgotten. Guess we’re going to have to get used to it. For a while at least.
The silence is deafening. I noticed it as soon as Dean stopped the motorcycle engine. Birds and insects are still doing their thing, but the human-made noises are gone. Chatter, engines, electronics, and all of the other background sounds we contributed have disappeared. This whole new world seems so empty. Signs of life are few and far between. The raiders we ran from and the infected man in the park are the only people we’ve seen since starting our travels. It’s like we’re the only people left alive in this corner of the country.
Now, Dean is back at the smashed window, waving me forward.
“What are we getting?” I ask, always eager for some shopping.
“Decent boots for you. Come on. Watch where you step—you don’t want to slip. There’re no doctors left to pick glass out of your ass. Only me.”
“Yeah. Let’s maybe avoid that situation.”
He escorts me to the relevant aisle with a hand to my lower back. I don’t hate it for some reason. It would seem any uninfected human contact in the apocalypse can be a comfort. And the man has had a hard day, what with having to shoot a complete stranger and all. This doesn’t mean I like him or anything. I am, however, able to think rationally about the incredibly messed-up situation. Or at least I hope I am.
There’s enough sunlight to see the first half of the store. Then his flashlight comes in handy for the shadowy rest. Whoever went shopping here before us only took what they needed and didn’t attempt to trash the place. Which is the right attitude to have. There might not be many of us left to share the current surplus of resources, but there’s no need to be a dick about it.
“We should probably talk about what happened.” I select a pair of nice blue-and-gray hiking boots. “Oh, these are on sale.”
“I think the days of worrying about what things cost are over.”
“I just mean the boxes are stacked here instead of out back.”
“How about that,” he says. “I knew your shopping skills would come in handy.”
Happily, they have one last pair in my size. “Do they have thick socks? Wearing these in is probably going to be a bitch.”
He hands me a pair of woolen socks from another rack. “We don’t need to talk about what happened.”
“You killed someone. Um. Those are neon orange.”
He blinks, tosses the offensive socks aside, and reaches for another pair. This time they’re an acceptable shade of cream. “I eliminated a deadly threat. You’re welcome. How about these?”
“Thanks.” I sit down and start the process of swapping out footwear. My poor sweet Converse. They have served me well. But if hiking boots will make him happy, then I am willing to play along. For now. There’s also a small chance he might have a point about them being sturdier and better suited to this new lifestyle. “I believe it’s important that we take the time to process the things that happen to us. Let’s be honest. It’s not like therapy is going to be as readily available as it used to be.”
He snorts.
“I am being serious.”
“I know you are, and I appreciate the concern.”
“Then come on,” I say. “You’re the one who wanted me along for the ride, buddy. So talk to me.”
He hangs his head for a moment. Then he says, “It’s not the first time I’ve killed someone.”
“Oh. When you were in the Marines. I didn’t think of that.”
“That guy in the park…there was nothing anyone could do to help him. He got a quicker and less painful death than he would have otherwise. I promised I’d protect you. That’s a promise I intend to keep.” He drops to one knee and tightens the laces on my boots. “How do they feel?”
“Fine. Good. Let’s move on to the next topic of conversation,” I say. “So what are you actually going to do if and when I want to leave?”
He pauses.
“I know we touched on it briefly the other day, but I feel like it deserves a more thorough and robust discussion, now that we have a minute or two to spare.”
He gazes up at me, face shadowed in the low lighting. “You could have just left now, while you were outside alone.”
“Would you have come after me?”
It takes him a moment. But eventually he answers, “Yes.”
