From a large Cabela’s shopping bag, he pulled out medical supplies, field kits, boxes of pain medication. I realized with surprise that he’d been able to read the labels.
He ripped open a package of wet wipes with his teeth. They were dry, of course, but he’d found bottled water.
Ten minutes later, I was de-blooded, dressed in warm, dry, slightly sandy clothes, and was contemplating a wide array of unappealing camper food.
“Expiration date: 2040,” he read, and opened an envelope of freeze-dried beef stew. Mixed with water and heated with canned fuel, it was bearable.
“Oh, geez,” I said, looking around with sudden understanding. “It was the plague. Everyone here died.”
“But what happened with the weather?” Tim asked, opening a can of something. “It wasn’t always a desert.”
“I don’t know.
”
After we ate, I felt 70 percent better. I could flex my whole hand and didn’t feel as light-headed. We grabbed some sleeping bags and hunkered down in a corner of the store. Just as I was falling asleep, I put out a hand and touched Tim’s arm. “Thanks for not leaving me behind,” I murmured.
He didn’t say anything, just stared up at the ceiling.
82
I WAS DREAMING—IT HAD TO be a dream. Ma was inside, making dinner. Pa was outside with our oxen, Ed and Ned. This was before he got his secondhand tractor. The huge animals were gentle and slow as they plowed Pa’s fields, and I loved them. In my dream I was feeding Ned a carrot, but instead of carefully lipping it up, he was growling at me. Growling?
I blinked awake slowly without moving, as we’d been taught. It was still mostly dark, but a dim light came from the left. I blinked again, controlling my breathing, staying completely still. My shoulder was killing me, throbbing and burning with pain, worse than before. Very slowly I turned my head and saw nothing. Stifling my groans, I sat up and glanced over at Tim to see if he’d heard the weird sound. My heart stopped.
He wasn’t there. He’d been lying next to me when I’d fallen asleep, but now there was no sign of him—his sleeping bag was gone, his pack was gone, his weapons were gone. Oh, my God—instantly I was wide awake, my pulse throbbing in my neck. He’d left me. He’d waited till I’d fallen asleep and then he’d left me. Hot tears filled my eyes—I was furious, but also couldn’t blame him. He’d made the right choice, the choice Ms. Strepp would have approved of. I was holding him up. We’d both known it. Oh, my God. Quickly my brain turned to survival: I could find useful stuff, could even maybe just stay here till my shoulder healed up. Then I could head east alone. Maybe meet up with him somehow. Brain him with a rock or something.
Grrrrrrrroooooowwwwwwwll. The noise was so low my chest vibrated. I’d never heard such an utterly menacing sound—it turned my blood to ice. Moving as little as possible, I turned my head and saw a large, gangly, smooth-coated dog hunched down, staring at me, its lip curled. Not—a wolf. Maybe a mastiff? A Rottweiler? It was about ten feet away.
My shoulder thudding painfully, I scanned the area and used every muscle I had to suppress a scream. Oh, God—there were more of them. Many more. Ten? Twelve? Their eyes reflected red in the darkness. They had snuck up on me as silently as Tim had snuck away.
I didn’t swallow—didn’t make a sound. Just tried to keep my shit together and assess the situation, as I’d been taught. The animals’ ribs were showing. Well, we were in a desert and we hadn’t seen any small prey. I wished I could tell them there was an enormous dead elk only a couple hours away.…
The largest dog inched forward, head lowered, growling. Clearly the pack was thinking I would provide at least one meal, between them.
Shit, shit, shit. Could I run, jump up on a display? Where was my gun? My fingers drifted to where it had been and then my terror turned to stunned disbelief. My gun is gone. Tim had left me with no weapon. That goddamn asshole! You need to leave, fine, leave! But give me a fighting chance!
Think, Cass, think. There’d been bows and arrows somewhere. My mouth was dry, my eyes hot. I had no idea where the bows and arrows were. I’d been so exhausted last night I hadn’t memorized the store layout. Ms. Strepp would think I’d deserve to die just for that.
My sleeping bag provided zero protection. Wait—I had a knife tucked into my boot. I’d have to be super close to the wild dogs to use it. Deathly close. But it was all I had. I gripped it in my left hand and faced the animals, pulling my knees in so I could jump up. I couldn’t swallow. After everything I’d been through, it was weird that this was how I was going to finally die.
I’m going to die today, a dim part of my brain registered. I’m going to die today. Tim deserted me, and now I’m going to die. And I’ll never see Becca again.
83
BECCA
“YOU ARE SHITTING ME,” I said flatly. The plain gray dress, its white apron tied neatly around the waist, lay over the back of a chair. The Loner patted it with one long, thin hand.
“It’s the best chance for success,” he said smoothly. “And it’s taken us almost two years to set this up, so don’t blow it.”
“A maid,” I said. “A housemaid.”
Nate turned from warming his hands at the fireplace. I hadn’t seen him or the others since dinner last night. I wonder where they slept. “Wouldn’t she have to have, you know, like domestic skills for that?” he asked, not even bothering to hide his smirk.
“I have domestic skills,” I insisted. I didn’t admit that in fact Cassie had inherited that gene. My domestic skills included almost being able to boil water for tea.
“You will be working in the kitchen,” the Loner told Nate, and handed him a pair of black-and-white checked pants and a white jacket. “The President entertains a lot and the kitchen is huge and well staffed. You’re going to start as a dishwasher.”