19
Jon sat by his bike with the tools at his side, the morning breeze cooling his face. He used the wrench to tighten the last bolt before swapping the tool for a rag. He then used the rag to wipe down his bike, cleaning away dirt and dust.
No one had bothered him, leaving Jon to work on his bike in peace. That was why he’d woken up so early. But when he glanced around, he saw people staring at him. Most of them pretended to be doing something else, but didn’t do a good job of hiding that they were gawking. In a region as rural as this one, Jon doubted that the camp got many visitors or new residents. He let them look, ignoring them as he continued to clean his bike.
When he finished touching her up, Jon mounted the bike. He cranked it, the motor coming to life as he revved it up a few times. Then he shut it off, sitting on the bike for a few moments and staring forward.
“That won’t wake anyone up.”
Jon turned to see Brooke approaching. She had her hair up in a ponytail as usual, but the morning sun shined on her face, illuminating it in a way that Jon hadn’t noticed before. The woman was beautiful, but it was if he was seeing that for the first time. He shrugged off the thought, his eyes shifting to the plate in her hand.
“Brought you something to eat.”
On the plate was a hard-boiled egg, some lettuce, and a small potato.
Brooke smiled. “What? It’s not like I poisoned it.” She extended the plate closer to him.
Jon laughed and got off the bike. He accepted the plate and thanked Brooke for bringing it to him, which she acknowledged with a nod. He used the fork to eat some of the lettuce first, enjoying the satisfying crunch.
“Where did you get this?” he asked.
Brooke pointed her thumb over her shoulder. “We’ve got ourselves a little farm at the back of the camp. There’s a vegetable garden and a chicken coop. We grow as much as we can. Luckily, potatoes and lettuce are pretty easy. We get some good carrots, too, when the season is right. We even had a goat at one point, though only for a couple of weeks. Damn, I miss the milk.”
“What happened to it?”
Brooke frowned. “The Vultures took it. We knew that would happen, but it was nice to have her while she lasted.”
Jon wanted to pry, but he instead picked up his hard-boiled egg and ate half of it.
“I see you found where we keep the tools,” Brooke said, changing the subject.
“Yeah, I hope Mouse won’t mind I got these out of his garage.”
“It’s fine. When we bring someone into our camp, we allow them to treat it like it’s their home, whether they decide to stay or not.”
“I’ll put them back after I’m finished with this. I just wanted to double-check the repair I made yesterday, considering I made it under the light of my cabin on fire.”
“Look, I didn’t really get to say this last night, but I’m so sorry that happened to you.”
“You didn’t burn it to the ground. It’s not your fault.”
“But I’m still sorry.”
Jon scoffed. “There’s no time to be sorry in this world.”
Brooke crossed her arms. “Do you really think it has to be like that? People are still capable of being empathetic.”
“Yeah, well, go tell that to the guys who stole your goat. Who burned my cabin to the ground. Ask them what they think about empathy.”
Brooke raised her chin and shook her head. “I never said anyone there has empathy.”
Jon ate the rest of his egg and then wiped the corner of his mouth. “Tell me where ‘there’ is, and I’ll go take care of it.”
“You don’t understand, you can’t—”
“Mommy!”
Jon looked past Brooke to see a little boy around the age of seven running toward her. Brooke turned to face him, kneeling down and hugging the child.
“You were sleeping so hard, sweetie,” Brooke said. “I didn’t want to wake you!”
“Some loud noise woke me up,” the boy said. “It sounded like someone was about to drive a truck through our house.”
“That was just this gentleman’s motorcycle.” Brooke looked over his shoulder and smiled at Jon.
Jon scratched his head. “Sorry about that, kid.”
“Lucas, Mommy wants you to meet someone.” Brooke took her son’s hand and faced Jon. “This is Mr. Jon. He came into the camp last night. Jon, this is my son, Lucas.”
“Hi, Lucas. Nice to meet you.”
“Don’t you know you’re supposed to shake someone’s hand when you meet them?”
“Lucas,” Brooke said, squeezing her son’s hand. “Don’t be rude.”
“It’s fine,” Jon said, smiling and looking down at the boy. “I’ve got all this grease on my hands is all. Wasn’t trying to be rude.”
“Everyone around here has dirty hands,” the child said.
Jon laughed. “Well, alright, then.” He stuck out his hand, and the young boy shook it firmly. “Quite the grip you’ve got on you.”
Brooke rubbed Lucas’ hair. “He’s a tough kid. Not sure where he gets it from.”
“I think it’s pretty obvious where he gets it from.”
Brooke smiled, averting Jon’s gaze. Her cheeks blushed. Jon had said the words without realizing how they could be received, and he wanted to take them back, but that would only make things more awkward. Instead, he stood silent.
“Lucas, sweetie, can you give me and Mr. Jon a few minutes to talk? Why don’t you go see if Miss Jessica needs any help with the dishes?”
“Okay,” Lucas said. “But then I want you to come color with me.”
Brooke grinned. “Promise.” She leaned down and kissed her son on the forehead.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Jon,” Lucas said.
“You, too, Lucas.”
The boy hurried away, and Brooke watched him for a moment before facing Jon again.
“Sweet kid,” Jon said.
“He’s my world. Honestly, he’s the only real reason I haven’t left here. It’s hard living under the Vultures, but I just can’t risk going out and trying
