I didn’t realize I was trembling until John tightened his grip around me. I looked up at him, and his soft brown eyes were determined.
“Hush,” he said as he raised a hand to stroke my cheek. “No more about this being your fault, you understand me?”
“But—”
“No more,” John said firmly. “You can’t help that these people attacked you. I’m doing everything I can to make sure it never happens again. I’ll keep you safe.”
I nodded. I knew that. He’d proven it too many times for me to doubt.
“I just don’t want you to have to,” I said with a sigh, relaxing against him.
“You let me worry about that,” he replied, cradling my head with a tenderness that made me ache. I’d never been loved the way John loved me—unreservedly and fully, without question. I wouldn’t have believed it possible had I not felt the same way about him.
John stroked my hair for a long while, soothing me back into drowsiness. I’d almost drifted off again when he spoke, his voice barely a whisper.
“That’s what family does for each other.”
“But I’m not…” I trailed off, too sleepy to finish my contradiction.
“Shh,” he murmured. “Coming home with me means you’re my family now. Argue, and you’ll be skinning the rabbits—blood, guts, and all—all by yourself for a week. And maybe a spanking to really drive home the point.”
“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” I mumbled, and a low chuckle reverberated in his chest. “It’s been over a week.”
There was an unfortunate heat between my legs at the thought. As much as I loved Kimmy, camping with her all the time meant zero privacy. I missed being in bed with John. I missed his hot, naked body and the way his touch made me arch and moan with pleasure. I missed watching his tight control snap when he came, and the way he groaned my name.
“I know,” John sighed. “Trust me, I’ve been…painfully aware.”
The bulge of his erection brushed against my belly, and I giggled. He grinned, then kissed the top of my head before readjusting, preparing to sleep. I exhaled slowly, and I could sense his smile as I fell back into a peaceful slumber in his arms.
Somehow, it’d only been a week since we’d left the camp. It’d been a flurry of scavenging for supplies, covering our tracks, and foraging for food. Our tent barely slept two people, and the city outskirts were dangerous enough that one of us always had to be on watch at night anyway. We slept in shifts, which was tiring and left a weary ache in my bones that wouldn’t go away. We hadn’t seen any major gang activity since we avoided the city centre, but we’d spotted a few lone scavengers who were looking for supplies just like we were. We lay low, always choosing stealth over confrontation. We’d been sighted in only one instance, by a man and woman who were painfully thin and, as far as I could see, unarmed. They scurried away before we even had the chance to approach.
Nobody trusted anybody in the Wasteland. They couldn’t afford to.
October was upon us as we prepared for our trip northward to the Valley, the remote homesteading community that John and Kimmywere from. In my head, it’d been built up as a kind of wilderness Eden, beautiful and safe, where they had things like running water and electricity that nobody outside the compounds had anymore. First, however, we’d need to traverse over a thousand kilometres, all on foot, through dense wilderness and inclement weather. By John’s best estimate, it was going to take us at least a month of hard travel.
Seven months ago, I’d lived inside the Cave, a walled compound that had been my home my entire life. A brutal attack destroyed my home and forced me out into the Wasteland—our name for the outside world. An insurgent cult wearing mysterious masks painted with a distinct gold eye had killed everyone in the compound, including my then-husband, Neil. My dreams were still haunted by my mother and my sister, Holly, who’d revealed themselves as part of the cult that destroyed my world. Holly helped me and my friend Asha escape the compound in secret, but I hadn’t seen her since.
Asha.She and I had been separated after an encounter with a pack of cannibals. I didn’t know if she was even still alive. I still ached at the thought of what might have happened to her. More than that, I had a growing sense of what my father would’ve called survivor’s guilt. It didn’t seem right that I should have a future with a man I loved, in a home where I might finally be safe, when she was gone.
Despite my fear and distrust of Wastelanders and utter lack of survival skills, John and Kimmy took me in after John rescued me from the cannibals. Over time, John earned my trust and eventually, my love. He’d protected me from the moment we met, and eventually, the heart of gold beneath his gruff exterior was impossible not to love. I loved him like I’d never loved anyone, including Neil, who I’d only married because it’d been arranged for us by the shadowy leaders of the Cave. I’d never felt like I would’ve died for anyone until John, but it wasn’t difficult when I knew he’d do the same for me in a heartbeat, and we’d been in situations where it was a real possibility.
The masked murderers had then resurfaced and attacked the camp where I’d lived with John and Kimmy until a week ago. They’d come to find me and had tried to perform some sort of cult ritual. We’d fought them off, but it was why we’d left with such haste: there were more of them, and they somehow knew I was there. It wasn’t safe anymore.
“Not much here,” Kimmy called from the kitchen area of a partially collapsed house we were searching.
“This lovely set of broken dishes,” I volunteered, holding up a large shard of pottery that’d been on the floor. “Perfect for entertaining.”
Kimmy giggled. “The only use left for that is to stab someone’s eye out.”
“I’m not going to ask how you came up with that,” I replied, raising an eyebrow.
She laughed again. “Good, because I’m not gonna tell you.”
There was a dull thump as John landed on the worn wooden floor. The staircase had collapsed, so he’d climbed up to the third floor and rappelled back down using a long length of cord he’d brought from the camp. He’d attached a grappling hook that he’d fashioned himself, and when I’d asked what we could use it for, he’d chuckled.
“Looks like someone’s never had to climb,” he said.
“I’m not sure—given the twenty-foot walls around the place—that climbing was a valued skill at home,” I said, raising an eyebrow.
