Fallout (Crank 3)

me the way, happy to have both. When

I get back to camp, Kyle is messing

with a campfire. Someone left a few

sticks of firewood, he says. Nice of

them. Too dark to be hunting for it now.

I sit on a big log, watching him work to

start it. Before long, a small flame slithers

up thin sticks of kindling, licking at a log.

Kyle’s face is handsome in the building

firelight. Rugged. “You remind me of

a cowboy. Or maybe a fur trapper.”

He laughs, sits next to me. Guess that

makes you the lonely schoolteacher

waiting for me to come ravage you.

He kisses me, and it is sweet, despite

the smell of his smoke-stung clothes.

Too soon, he pulls away. Hungry?

I nod, and he goes to the truck,

brings back nuts. Jerky. Water

to wash both down with. I chew

for a while. Finally I notice Kyle

hasn’t touched the skimpy feast.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” I ask.

He shakes his head. Maybe later.

I’m not really hungry right now.

He goes to poke at the fire.

I close the bags carefully. Gulp

water, wishing I’d thought to buy

a toothbrush. “Are you scared?”

You kidding? Even if we get caught,