“Sounds like you got lucky,” I said.
She snorted. “I wouldn’t call this shit lucky. Anyway, I’m wanting to get out of here, head west. I have family in Alliance. Don’t suppose you gals are headed that way?”
Something in the way she asked made me think she knew we were headed to Seattle.
“Safety in numbers,” she said when neither Lana nor I replied. “I have a rifle and I’m a good shot.”
I glanced at Lana, then back to the woman. “Dee Harper-Smith. This is my wife, Lana Smith-Harper.” We shook hands and the woman leaned her elbows on the table.
“You guys have kids?”
When we nodded, she said, “How do they do the last names? The kids, I mean.”
“They use Smith-Harper,” I said when Lana stayed silent. It wasn’t like her to ignore someone, but perhaps she was tired or still traumatized over the little girl or hell, over everything that had transpired.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Ivy Latske. Trucker by trade. Love ‘em and leave ‘em kind of gal, not that it’s pertinent to this situation, sorry.” She laughed at herself with a self-aware charm I kind of liked. “Anyway, I don’t know if you want another passenger, but perhaps I could help out. Three can look out better than two, right?”
I took Lana’s cold hand, worried about her silence and the way she sat so still. “Give us a minute or so to talk it over.”
“Sure, sure. I know exactly where you’re coming from. I’ll take a stroll around the hall, let you decide. For what it’s worth, I want to thank you for even considering it. Haven’t found anyone yet who’d say yes.” She winked, clicking her tongue at the same time, then got up and walked away, hands in her pockets.
I leaned into my wife and nudged her gently with my shoulder. “What’s up?”
“You want to take her with us, don’t you?”
The tone of her voice made me wary. She was angry about something and if I wasn’t careful, I’d step right in it and catch it too. I shrugged carefully. “I thought she made a good point about having another set of eyes. Are you thinking it’s not a good idea?”
She speared a piece of beef and smeared her potatoes around with it. “I feel selfish even thinking this but … I don’t want you getting killed saving that woman.” She hesitated, then said, “It wouldn’t matter what gender. A third person means our attention is divided. It could put one of us at risk if she got into trouble and we felt compelled to save her.”
She said ‘we felt compelled’ but she meant me. She knew I had a huge savior complex and while she’d never been selfish about that before, these were different times, weren’t they? Where a stupid mistake could get us killed.
“I totally get where you’re coming from,” I said, and then, miracle of miracles, I stopped right there.
I was dumb sometimes when it came to my wife, but other times I wasn’t so clueless. She was the one who had to decide Ivy was coming with us, which meant I needed to sit back and let her make her choice. If I pushed, Lana would double down even if intellectually she knew there was safety in numbers.
“You do? No ‘safety in numbers’ arguments?” She wiggled quote fingers and then studied me as closely as a detective would their suspect, searching for any prevarication.
I hoped my face was blank. I hoped to hell it was. “Nope.”
She huffed and popped the meat in her mouth, chewing as she glared at Ivy across the room. “You have to swear right now that you won’t save her if it means putting yourself in danger. Swear it.”
I put my hand on my heart, knowing I was taking a risk at making her mad if she thought I was making fun of her. “I’m getting back to our boys. I vow it. You and I come first over anyone else we come across. I so swear. Do you?”
She blinked as if it hadn’t even crossed her mind that she would save anyone else but me. “Of course I swear. You’re my only, Dee. Haven’t you noticed?”
I leaned in and took the kiss she offered. “Maybe I just need a little reassurance in the zombie apocalypse.”
“Mmm,” she said against my lips, and then she pulled away to eat the rest of her food with a bit more gusto.
When Ivy came back around, I told her the good news. She slapped the table, the biggest grin on her face. “I knew I could count on my fellow females to help me out. Damn that feels good. Thank you. Thank you! When are we leaving?”
“Tomorrow,” I said, having already hashed that out with Lana. A night in safety and then we’d hit the road with our new companion. Soon boys, I thought. We’ll be home soon.
13
Now
The house is empty and she resists the urge to make another round—it would be her fifth—to check the dark spaces, the windows, the locks on the doors. They left the doors open when they came out to attack her, so she didn’t have to break a window or lock to get in. And now the doors are locked, with heavy furniture pushed against them, just in case.
There are two fireplaces, one downstairs and one up. There is wood. It’s like they were waiting for her to come and this was her reward if she won the game of cat and mouse.
If they had won? Well, she would have been dinner.
A quick glance to make absolute sure the curtains are drawn tight, and she resists the urge to get up and check them all again.
Someone is watching, someone is watching, someone is watching.
The refrain dances around in her head until she wants to scream. Anxiety is a living monster
