“Well, duh. Why do I assume he has to havebreakfast?” There was no reason other than culture to reserve certain foods for a specific time of day. “Besides, he should be happy I feed him at all.” She emptied a survival packet of chili beans sans meat into a pan, added water, and set it on the two-burner alcohol stove.
While it heated, she whipped up some reconstituted eggs, added powdered cheese and dehydrated mushrooms for an omelet. She fixed a cup of instant coffee for herself and then loaded all the items on a tray and carried it in.
He’s getting room service now.
“Here.” She slapped down his bowl of chili, pissed that she’d become his personal maid, mad at herself for creating the problem, and angry at him for having cleaned up and looking almost attractive because of it. All traces of the dried blood were gone, leaving his skin even more luminescent. Or maybe what infuriated her was his stupid, appreciative, vegan smile.
How dare he be thankful! The asshole!
Without another word, she stomped to her side of the room. No longer hungry, she ate for the nourishment while glowering at him.
She analyzed her anger. Why did his gratitude piss her off? Would she prefer him to be ungrateful and rude? Unless she starved him, which she didn’t have the stomach to do, she had to feed him. It would be insult to injury if he acted like everything she offered was his due.
Gratitude humbles him.Humility made him likable and weakened her hatred.
Or maybe that’s the game plan—act sweet and nonthreatening, so I’ll trust him and release him.
Fat chance!
Releasing him would make her life easier—but only in the short run. Cutting him loose could spring back to bite her in the ass later. While she believed he wouldn’t hurt her if she let him go, she couldn’t risk the long-term, unpleasant repercussions.He could encounter another Progg and tell him where he’d been.
Presuming she found a solution to the Grav problem, then what? Could she stand spending the rest of her life alone in a cave? Did she dare move into her parents’ house? She’d have more physical comforts there, but could she bear living with the memories? Plus, the house could be seen from the road. The light and generator noise would be a beacon.
The interactions with Grav had exposed the depth of her loneliness. She’d gotten so desperate for company she was willing to converse with a Progg.
She couldn’t spend the rest of her life in solitary confinement. She had to reconnect with other people. Venturing out would mean taking risks, but it had to be done. She could start with Big Creek. The town had looked deserted, but people could be hiding in any of the buildings or living nearby and scurrying to town for supplies.Somebodyhad shot Grav. But would hooking up with others make her more vulnerable? A group provided a bigger target than a lone individual.
Since the invasion, she’d only been living day to day. Taking Grav prisoner had caused her to think about the future again.
“The food is good,” he said.
She didn’t answer.
“You’re angry.”
“You think?”
“I do think that, but I don’t know why.”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“Not if you don’t tell me,” he said.
“Don’t be so reasonable!” she snapped.
“How would you like me to be?”
Unlikable. She needed to despise him. She would never forgive the Progg, but her hatred toward this one was dissipating.
“I’m mad because I’m stuck with you!” she snapped. Why did that sound petulant rather than righteous? She had a right to be angry—the Progg deserved every ounce of opprobrium.
“You could let me go,” he suggested.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Not gonna happen.” She paused. “Just out of curiosity, what would you do if I released you?”
