“Kelly, Bodey says you’re limping. Can I look at your knee?” John bent down, waiting for me to push my injured leg toward him. He didn’t lift my pants, what would he see in the dark anyway, but he gently pressed around my kneecap and behind the bend.
I flinched when his thumb pressed into the soft tissue to the inside of my leg.
John stood. “Okay, I think you twisted your knee, which shouldn’t be permanent but could get worse, if we don’t let it rest. Let’s find a place to camp and we’ll do what we can.”
“Where? There’s not much here.” Bodey opened his arms wide and turned in a circle.
“Athol’s right through there.” John pointed past the next bend in the trees. “We’ll check and see if there’s a place we can hide out for a while. Bodey, grab her other side, will ya?”
They flanked me, each pulling my arm around their necks and half-carrying me as we walked. At least they didn’t completely immobilize me. I had to be able to carry some of my weight. If not, survival of the fittest didn’t apply to me at all.
The path wasn’t wide enough for all of us and Bodey or John would lurch forward in the weeds, tripping over hidden rocks and roots.
The last stagger brought us all down. I’m not sure who went first, but John landed on my leg and I cried out, reaching for the offended part.
“Alright, this isn’t working.” John scrambled off me, holding out his hand to Bodey. “Give me your pack, Kelly. Bodey, if you’ll grab her, I can lead. We’ll take turns until we find something.”
Bodey hefted me into his arms. I never realized how strong he was. I mean, muscles, yeah, but I never considered them as functional – just beautiful. When he had carried Mom, the thought never crossed my mind because she looked so slight.
He found a rhythm with his pace. I tried holding myself stiff with my head up and my back tight, but the rolling lumber of his steps sucked at me. I had been awake for too long and gone through too much. This time I wouldn’t fall asleep.
Finally in Bodey’s arms, no way was I going to miss a second of it.
~~~
Athol appeared after no more than five minutes of solid walking. Finding a safe place to hole up proved to be more difficult. John refused to let us stay in any stores where food was commonly stocked. The pawn shop and second-hand store didn’t make the cut either since those places traditionally carried supplies.
Bodey and John hadn’t switched me between them. I was extremely comfortable staying in Bodey’s arms. I just hoped he didn’t mind.
John finally settled on the flooring store and when he jimmied the backdoor, I lifted my eyebrows at Bodey. Why would we stay in a carpet store? How odd.
Bodey wiggled his eyebrows back at me and twisted his lips, baring his teeth. I giggled. Held so close in his arms, with my hands hooked around his neck, I refused to believe the proximity was sibling-like.
Would he notice I hadn’t showered in a few days and I probably didn’t smell right? Oh, I could see myself praying about that. The thought kept me from completely relaxing.
“Come in, guys, the building’s empty.” John whispered toward us from inside.
Glancing at me with a normal smile – one which still made my heart leap a bit – Bodey moved inside. He was careful not to slam my head or my feet on the doorjamb.
We waited for John to tell us where to go next. He motioned us further into the store, while he took a few fluorescent light rods and placed them on end in front of the door. If someone touched the door, the tubes would crash to the floor – possibly shatter on impact. We would hear the noise and be alerted to any danger.
John’s resourcefulness might challenge my mom’s.
The moment neared when Bodey would put me down. While I didn’t want to be a burden and I’m sure I was getting too heavy to carry much longer, I didn’t want to lose the connection we formed in those few minutes of being close.
“Let’s try in here, guys. Zero windows and one door, so if we’re careful we could light a candle or something and not worry about being found out.” John led the way deeper into the store. The large cavernous center echoed our steps back to us like a large cave.
The scent of fresh paint replaced damp wood and dry needles and I breathed the change in.
Slabs of tile, granite, marble, and other material hadn’t been touched in the breakdown of the world. Nothing had been disturbed – at least what we could see in the dim lighting. We could’ve been shopping as we walked through the interior. Well, minus the darkness, the late hour, and the lack of salesmen.
Okay, nothing about it was normal. But the ambience felt safer then outside without anything around us. That was as close to normal as I needed to be.
John closed the door behind us in the small room. We stared into the blackness, unadjusted to so much dark even after hours in the forest at night. John fumbled with his bag and after another short minute he brandished a small penlight which lit up the room with its meager beam.
A table ran the length of the wall. Stacks and stacks of carpet samples lined the side and under the counter-space. John retrieved a couple of the rectangles and shoved them under the door where the smallest crack would let even a smidgeon of light out.
Staying out of people’s awareness had never made more sense to me before. We couldn’t trust anyone. What if we came across more like Charlie or some affiliated with his group? What if the people had their own group and weren’t interested in helping us but using us?
Bodey crossed to the table and set me down, allowing my feet to dangle over the edge. I slid my hands slowly down his chest as he pulled away. The texture of his jacket roughed the tips of my fingers. Disappointment must have been pretty obvious in my expression because he chuckled and chucked me under my chin with this knuckle.
Like a friend.
Double crap. For all he knew, I could be the last girl his age alive on earth and he was only giving off vibes reeking of friendship. I tucked my hands beneath my thighs and kicked my feet softly to cover my embarrassment. The movement didn’t hurt when I moved my legs.
School all over again. Great.
John moved around the room purposefully, moving squares here and there into more elongated piles until they took on the shapes of —
“Beds. You’re making beds, John?” I watched him, anxious for him to finish. I would love to fall asleep. I hadn’t slept in for what felt like forever. I could only hold off thoughts of my mom for so long before I lost my emotional grip again. I was tired enough I wouldn’t be awake long to entertain thoughts of loss and loneliness.
“I am. I’ll have you over here and Bodey’s is there.” He pointed to opposite ends of the room. The separation wasn’t lost on me, but he didn’t have anything to worry about. Bodey didn’t seem to think of me like that and it was achingly apparent.
Bodey moved to help me down, but I warded him off with an upright hand. “I’m okay, thanks. I can manage.” The line came from one of Mom’s old movies. Michelle Pfeiffer had amazed me and I often tried being her in one way or another growing up. I always wanted to use it.
Gingerly, I slid from the table, putting most of my weight on the uninjured leg. Hopping toward my pile of carpets, I trailed my hand along the table for stability and to maintain some semblance of dignity. Holding onto pride in that situation couldn’t be more impossible, especially limping away after half-groping a boy you crushed on for an eternity.
His dad saw a problem with us sleeping near each other, but I was in no danger of being bothered by Bodey.
Dang it.
I sat on the stiff stack and stretched my legs, careful not to move my sore knee too fast. John brought my bag to my side and set it on the floor by me.
“Do either of you need to use the restroom?” John waited for our answers. I shook my head. Bodey must’ve too, because John sat on his pile and untied his shoes. “Let’s get some sleep. I’ll head out in the morning and see what I can find.”
I kicked off my boots and didn’t ev
en bother doing anything with my jacket or socks. It wasn’t freezing in the store, but the concrete floor – odd for a carpet vendor – wasn’t putting off any heat either. Lying down, I rolled to my side and wrapped my arms around my waist. I was too tired to care and a little embarrassed. Okay, a lot embarrassed.
A slight weight covered me. I glanced over my shoulder at Bodey. He straightened a blanket over me and smiled softly before padding back to his side of the room.
Unsure what to make of his kindness and certain I was overthinking things, I gripped the edge of the blanket and pulled the soft material to my chin. The added warmth lulled me.
John turned off the light and the immediate darkness left me with nothing to think about. “G’night, you two. Get some sleep.”
“Goodnight.” I murmured, ignoring the tears working down my cheeks. Where had they come from?
Chapter 20
John tossed Bodey and me chunks of jerky from his pack. “I think it’s a good thing this store hasn’t been looted. It will be even better if the grocery stores haven’t, but that’s wishful thinking.” He stuffed a strip of dry meat between his teeth.
I tore off a section of my own and chewed its unrelenting texture, grateful I had something to fill my stomach. “Thank you.”
Glancing at me, John pushed to his feet. “Can you two handle being alone for a little while? I need to look around and get a feel for what we’re doing here.” He didn’t say anything about losing his safety zone, his home base, because of me. Nothing in his mannerisms suggested anger toward me. Why wouldn’t he be? I would. I knew myself enough to recognize I would definitely hold a grudge.
John slung a bag over his arm and gave us last minute instruction. “It’s morning, so keep the door open in here and you should have enough light. I’ll be back as soon as possible, hopefully with more food and water.”
Bodey and I nodded. I yawned. Resting had been what I needed. Now when Mom crossed my thoughts I didn’t spring eternal tears, only misted a little. I could handle mist. The stormy rain did me under.
Disappearing around the side of the door, John missed my grateful smile. My knee had stopped throbbing sometime during the night, but moving too fast sent sharp pain in shafts up and down my leg. Yet the injury paled because I’d slept inside and hadn’t been safe in a long time.
Even with full daylight outside, the room’s dim atmosphere lent a dusky kind of sensation. I blinked my eyes hard and rubbed at the corners.
I drew up my uninjured leg and leaned my cheek against the smooth part of my thigh where it met my knee. Crossing my arms around my shin, I sighed. Bodey still hadn’t approached me, almost like he forgot I was there.
“So...” Great, my best line ever. How could I be so eloquent? “What I mean is, um...” Dang those ever-ready tears. They weren’t because of my mom or all the stupid stuff happening or even because of the pain in my leg. I teared up because, quite simply, I had Bodey Christianson all to myself for the first time ever and I couldn’t use full sentences.
He already thought of me like a sister. Why not add more to his platonic impression of me? Why not make myself out to be incompetent or slow?
I rolled my eyes and turned so my forehead rested on my knee and my tears could fall into my lap. Blowing things with Bodey compiled with the pressure of guilt over him and his dad having to leave their house, with Mom’s inability to keep herself safe because of her responsibility to keep me safe, and with the loss of Jeanine who had so much more to give.
Yeah, my tears started slow and quiet, but my sobs came in like a thunderous band of bass and cellos. My shoulders shook and I dragged in deep gasps but couldn’t get control of myself.
Arms encircled me. I jumped.
“Shhh. You’re okay. I got you.” Bodey turned me until I was cradled in his arms. He turned, lying down with me tight in his embrace, and gently pulled my face to his shoulder.
Almost against my will – except not at all – I wrapped my arms around his waist and pressed my nose into his warmth. He was solid. He was there. He wasn’t dead. He wasn’t even hurt.
He allowed me to cry, but my sobs lessened and I didn’t feel so hopeless.
Sniffing, I turned my face to the side, resting my cheek on his chest. His heart beat thudded strong and steadfast beneath my face. If I had the guts, I could turn my head and kiss the spot where his heart was. But I had less guts than a horse fly. At least right then.
I could be blunt, but not aggressive.
“Why aren’t your mom and sister with you, Bodey?” Would he notice if I traced the muscle lines under his shirt with my finger? I placed my hand on his chest opposite my face and made the smallest circles with my index finger, like it was an afterthought and I wasn’t focusing my entire being on the small connection.
“They went to town for some groceries. Mom had this thing about shopping with Shayla. Girls’ time, you know?” His voice came out husky and I inhaled sharp but short. Maybe he was as affected by me as I was him? Or maybe I was just allowing the hopeful sensations to crash over me, tainting everything. He made me believe better was possible.
Or it was hard for him to talk about his missing family. I understood the difficulties myself.
I lowered my gaze. “I’m sure they’re making their way up...” But if they did, they would return to a burned down home and no husband or father or brother or son waiting.
Because of me.
“I’m sorry. I showed up at your place and ruined everything for you guys.” Tears, again? Did I have any other way to show I was upset? Apparently, I only allowed myself to cry my way through the end of the world. I closed my eyes for a moment to stop the flow. He’d have a soaked shirt before I got off him. If I got off him.
His chest shook, a deep chuckle resonating under his ribs. “You think you ruined everything? Did you drop a particular bomb yourself or did you order this attack?”
I drew my eyebrows together, opening my eyes and tilting my head back for a glimpse of his face. “No, I mean...”
“I know what you meant. And I’m serious. This isn’t your fault. Any of it. I’m glad we could help you with your mom and escape safely.” His hand rubbed up and down my back, his fingers spread wide. “They’re not out in that mess out there. I don’t think they’re... alive. But Dad... Dad gets to believe they did, okay?”
I nodded because that’s what you do. “So what have you been doing? I didn’t see you at track. They had the mid-season awards banquet for Coach Simpson. He retired, remember? You didn’t go.” My tone felt accusatory, but I wanted to know. I’d worn my favorite blue dress and had even asked Mom to braid my hair. And Bodey hadn’t shown.
My finger didn’t stop dancing on his chest, the small taps and twirls almost involuntary. He fought back, the warmth of his palm traced my spine. If I forgot how to talk, it’d be a small sacrifice for him to keep going.
He paused, like choosing which question to answer. “We’ve been hearing about a possible attack, but the one we expected wasn’t scheduled for another couple months.” He spoke quietly, as if the walls had ears.
“You knew this was going to happen?” Disbelief warred with my loyalty to him. “You didn’t say anything to warn anyone?” How was that right?
“No, it’s not like that. Everything you hear on the Circuit is rumor or needs to be treated like a possible rumor. We’re not even sure who attacked this time. The one set up for this fall was actually our own government. They planned on coming in and bombing around all the military bases but keep the bases intact to give the appearance we didn’t have anything left.” He paused, letting that horror seep in, skimming my back – up and down, up and down.
“Attack their own country? Their own people?” The potential was unprecedented. But what if it was true? No one had fought them when they brought the stupid disease over the border – over and over and over. No one had said anything as thousands and millions had died, filling the streets. No one ever said anything – too worried about offending
people.
Bodey shifted. I moved to sit up. He probably didn’t want to hold me any longer. But he pulled me closer.
My eyes widened and the tingling in my skin everywhere we touched zinged like electric shock with my awareness.
“When no one sticks to their agreements and turns on each other, you don’t have to stretch to see they’ll even turn on themselves.” He sighed, his chest heaving. “From the radio chatter we couldn’t figure out who bombed who first.”
“Do you know everyone bombed? Where can we go? Is anywhere safe?” What if America was the only stupid suicidal country? Bombing our own land. I never heard of any attacks or any wars on American soil in history class. But only a few years of the past in class didn’t cover much except pop culture, and who cared what diva dated who when?
“No one is left. Supposedly, the governments of the countries down for a while already have small communities cropping up, but there hasn’t really been a way to verify anything that we’ve heard.” He yawned, squeezing me. “There’s supposedly a series of bunkers across the country outfitted to be used as concentration camps but the government is worthless now, right? So I don’t see them being used.”
Concentration camps... in our country. Dad had mentioned them once or twice, but never in a good way. Why would the US have them?
I swallowed, unsettled and not only because of his hand tracing patterns over my jacket and shirt. “What do you think will happen?”
“I don’t know. Dad says the best thing to do is to keep our heads down.” His words disappeared as he bent and placed a kiss on my forehead. “We’ll be okay. As long as Dad’s with us. He knows what to do.”
John was a commodity Bodey shared willingly. I didn’t know if I deserved their help. I hadn’t been much use to Mom and my skills weren’t exactly in abundance.
Cost of Survival Page 15
