Leon narrows his gaze on the stranger.
“Just long enough to make sure he’s protected,” says Nash. “He needs a family. But Porter knows we ran into you outside Santa Rosa. He knows you’re out here somewhere, and he has nothing better to do than keep looking.”
“He’s going to have to be dealt with,” says Dean.
I just nod. Because from everything we’ve seen and heard, the likelihood of him letting us live in peace is as low as can be.
“We need more people to keep this place safe,” says Natalia.
“You do,” agrees Nash. “And I have some ideas about where you can find them.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
THURSDAY
“Eleven out of ten,” I announce with the utmost authority.
Hazel and Sophie fall about laughing. Even Bowie manages a small smile. We’re hanging out in the backyard of our house having a handstand competition. It’s been a strange day, starting off with a bang. I long for the times when death and dead bodies weren’t the normal. But here we are. Sunset isn’t for another couple of hours yet. We decided to get together and eat early. Have everyone inside their houses with the curtains drawn, blocking out any light, before dusk. Just to be safe.
The watch is continuing, of course. We’re now each doing duty twice every twenty-four hours. Once during the day and once at night. If the figures Nash gave us are right, then there’s no way we can stop Porter and all of his people, should they find us. But we can give each other warning and hopefully get the children safely out of town.
Hazel sets her hands on her hips. “That handstand was atwelveout of ten.”
“I’ll give you thirteen out of ten and that is my absolute last offer,” I say, waving a wooden spoon at the girls. Which sets off the giggling all over again. They are so high on life and it’s beautiful to see.
“You cannot be serious.” Avan shakes his head with much woe. “That handstand was clearly a fourteen. I’ve never seen such a spectacularly upside-down person!”
“Oh no,” I say. “There’s a dispute between the judges. What are we going to do?”
“More handstands,” shouts Sophie with glee.
I wish my phone hadn’t died. It would be good to have some pictures of times like this. The girls smiling in the late afternoon light.
We spent most of the day working in the garden. Dean didn’t want Nash helping with the bodies, in case he took the opportunity to pick up a knife or something in one of the houses. Given what happened this morning, and what he told us, it seems unlikely. And if he wanted to cause trouble, he could do it with his hands. But trust takes time. Leon helped with the gardening today too. Though he was mostly there to keep an eye on Nash.
Reema spent an hour or so teaching the children about photosynthesis and pollination and other garden-relevant science. They loved the attention, and they loved listening to her. She must have been amazing at her job because she’s an exceptional speaker. And she seemed to enjoy it too.
Bowie and the girls also dug in the dirt, searching for worms for a while. It was part of learning about composting and soil quality. He seemed okay so long as Nash was near. Which is fair enough, given he’s the one constant in the child’s life right now. Currently, they’re seated together on the edge of the back porch, watching the handstand competition.
Nash wants to use the radio to contact some friends who might be interested in joining our small town. People who know how to help us keep everyone safe. It sounds good in theory. But we’ve known him for approximately five minutes. And in that time he’s pointed a gun at us twice. Life continues to be complicated in new and strange ways. But a population of twelve, with three of those people being children, can’t survive against thirty assholes.
Drastic measures must be taken.
In the meantime, dinner is canned ham and pineapple fried rice cooked on a camp stove. Avan and I are in charge. Natalia,Reema, and Naomi are gathered on the cane porch chairs, keeping an eye on Nash while discussing recent events. Charlie and Leon are on watch.
And Dean is walking back from his afternoon wash at the creek. His dark wet hair slicked back with those hints of silver showing. Blue jeans riding low on his hips and his bare chest…huh. He sure is a healthy specimen. There are pecs and nipples and abs and all of that. And I am not drooling. My saliva production just got away from me for a minute.
One scar curls around his side. But I think the bulk of them are on his back. His shoulders and biceps flex as he pulls a tee on over his head. The view of his bare chest is going, going, gone. So sad. Woe is me. How dare he makemewet too. And the kicker is the way his steady gaze stays on me the entire time. He knows exactly what he’s doing. Manipulating my hormones in this way is the work of a cad.
“Fuck me,” mutters Naomi. She’s such a harlot after my own heart.
Though it’s not like Natalia and Reema and Avan aren’t staring too. The only adult who seems unimpressed by the display is Nash. I believe he mumbles something involving the words “show” and “pony.” But I can’t quite catch what he says.
“Dean, watch this!” shouts Sophie as the girls perform a series of cartwheels and handstands.
“Excellent work,” he says. “I swear you guys are getting better at this stuff every day. You must be the best gymnasts in the whole wide world.”
Hazel and Sophie soak up the praise.
