Standing, John offered me his hand. I had to let go of Bodey’s to reach for it. That wasn’t my favorite thing to do, but I did it. John pulled me to stand beside him and Bodey followed suit.
We followed John to Shorty’s Stuff and waited while he checked out the grounds. In seconds, he returned and we followed him into the yard.
The junkyard stood sentinel on the far side of town, opposite the direction of Bayview. The exterior didn’t encourage visitors with its trashed out old cars bordering its edges and towers of tossed out tires forming the fence.
Trails through piles and piles of shapes and shadows twisted and turned as we walked. I would probably never find my way out. John led us to the back, showing us the cars and pointing out separate ones for us to put our things. He was a dad, I liked that about him.
But while we waited for the world to come to its senses, how was I going to be able to kiss Bodey again with him so far away?
Chapter 23
Rubbing my hands together, I huddled with Bodey and John in front of the old Chevelle. The separated hood protected us from the strongest gusts of the wind. We were too far from the center of the small town to hear any gun shots. While the Monaghans had a lot of people in their family, there weren’t so many members that it would take a long time to kill them all.
If the people killed the women.
My naiveté hadn’t lingered long enough with Mom’s experiences to believe men would simply kill women. Not when they could use them for other tasks.
“What are we going to do now?” My teeth chattered as I spoke and an involuntary shiver made me hunch my shoulders forward.
The stars disappeared and the moon faded in and out above us.
John squinted at the sky and around the yard. “To be honest, I’m hoping for rain. We’ll be safe and hopefully the soldiers will move on.”
“You saw soldiers? From who? Were they ours?” Bodey leaned forward, hands clenched at his sides.
John shook his head. “No, far as I could tell, they aren’t ours.”
“Does it matter whose they are?” I sighed. Everyone was bad by then. We were on our own. Good people were few and far between.
John nodded my way, stomping his feet. “You’re right, Kelly. I don’t think it does.” He leaned close to us, his face inches from ours. “I need to go help the Monaghans best I can. You two stay together. If I don’t come back—”
“What do you mean?” I broke in, a catch in my voice. If he didn’t come back? What was this? “You don’t have to go. Stay here.”
John held up his hands. “Listen, getting hurt is a possibility, always. So if I don’t make it back, you two need to get as close to Bayview as you can. They have a Naval submarine training site. There will be some serious militia men and they take protection very personally. You’ll be looking for a Captain Simon Phahn.”
He reached for both of us, gathering us into a tight embrace. A sinking feeling in my gut worried me I’d never see him again.
My brow furrowed and I clung a little longer than normal to him. He pulled back, winked at us and walked away, disappearing around a corner in the piles of junk all around us. I longed to chase him down, prevent something that I couldn’t understand.
Right then, the clouds opened and rain dropped around us.
On us.
Cool drops threatened to claim every last speck of warmth. John would be getting wet, too. He needed to come back to us.
“Let’s go.” Bodey yanked me into the car John assigned to him.
I tucked in beside him, bringing my legs up so I could warm my hands between my knees. Watching out the window in case John changed his mind, I bit my lip. “I don’t think I’m supposed to be in your car with you. I should probably be in my own car.” Blinking at him, I held my face straight, trying not to break into laughter – even worried about his dad I couldn’t help enjoying the time with him.
“I think Dad wasn’t planning on this. We need to stay warm. So come here.” He hauled me across his lap to land in his arms. He reached up and twirled my loose hair around his fingers. His voice husky, he watched me as he spoke. “I need to be distracted, Kelly. I’m worried about Dad. None of this is fun, you know? Besides being with you.” He lifted my hand and kissed the center of my palm, slow and warm.
He had so much of his own concerns, it wouldn’t be right for me to add to them. How did I tell him for the first time since Mom died, I really wanted to pray?
I wanted to pray because I didn’t have a good feeling about his dad going to help others.
My gut instinct wouldn’t reassure Bodey in any way.
So I kept my mouth shut and didn’t say anything as my stomach twisted and burned more with each passing heartbeat.
~~~
Bodey’s breath had evened out what seemed decades ago. I held his hand, while I was tucked under his arm against his side. Watching the rain drizzle down the windshield from the backseat, I controlled my rising panic.
I couldn’t sleep. Just thinking about John and what could happen dredged up memories of Mom dying in my arms. I couldn’t prevent the thoughts. Not one bit. And Jeanine running away from me. And the dog. That kid at the school. All the people.
Everyone.
Except for the people who should’ve been dead. Why couldn’t they be gone and the good people stay around?
Closing my eyes, I slowed my breathing and pretended Mom sat next to me. What would she say? What would she do?
She’d freaking pray.
Help. Oh, help us. Please bring John back safe.
Please.
~~~
Tap. Tap. Tap.
I blinked. Smashed against the cold window, my forehead hurt. I looked up, finding John staring at me in the rainy dawn. A red streak of blood zig-zagged from his upper hairline down his forehead to his nose and cheek.
Chapter 24
I don’t think I’ve ever moved so fast. Ever.
Pushing Bodey’s leg off mine, I unlocked the door and shoved it open. The rain had slowed to a fine mist, sticking to my hair strands and clinging to John’s beard in droplets.
“John, you’re here. Are you okay? You’re bleeding.” I tenderly touched around the scrape which had zinged away a piece of his hair.
He moved his lips but didn’t say anything. His eyes glazed over and I reached for him as he fell.
I barely caught him, oomphing to the ground with him on my forearms. Cold mud soaked my pants through to my skin. I kicked my foot on the car. Thud, thud, thud.
Screaming like I wanted to might bring negative attention and I couldn’t do that to Bodey and John. I struggled to keep the majority of John’s torso and head off the wet grass and mud.
Bodey peeked over the windowsill. His eyes widened and he joined us immediately in the swampy mess on his knees. “Dad! Kelley, what happened?”
“He passed out. I’m not sure before that. He tried speaking, but he fell first. Help me get him out of the cold.” The chill seeped in deep, fast. I couldn’t imagine how cold John was. His clothes were soaked through.
“In here. It’s warmer where we were.” Bodey backed into the car and pulled John while I pushed, laying him across the backseat. Bodey lowered his head, pressing his face to his dad’s cheek. “What are we going to do?”
I learned from my mom. I had this.
Apply pressure.
Tearing through the bag closest to me, I handed a sock to Bodey to press to his dad’s wound. “Push on his cut and hold tight. Head wounds bleed the worst.”
Bad. Worse. Worst.
Because I had so much experience with that type of thing.
~~~
We took shifts holding John, checking on him. He didn’t get a fever which helped me hold my stress together.
When my turn to watch him came, and Bodey slept, I cried. Flashes of Mom dying in my arms mere days ago bombarded me, overlapping his face and his weight.
Every hour we traded shifts. Minutes blurred into hours.
&
nbsp; Bodey stepped out to scavenge some water from the well. I bent my head close to John’s. “It’s too soon, John. Mom already died. You can’t leave us.”
Shadows under his eyes frightened me further. Specks of mud spotted his pale skin.
He coughed, groaning with his eyes fluttering open. His gaze met mine, his voice caught in the fog of sleep. “Kelly? Where’s Bodey?” John tried to sit up, pushing his hand to his head. “I was shot.”
“You what?” I hadn’t seen a bullet hole. “No, it’s just a deep scratch.”
“No, they shot me.” He swallowed, the effort painful. “Can I have some water?”
“Bodey went to get some.” I checked under his dressing, the gash not as deep looking without all the blood weeping from the lines. “Wow, this looks better. How are you feeling?”
I didn’t mention the crazy fear running through me, controlling Bodey, distracting us from gathering resources or getting things checked out.
“I’m fine. I’d just run a long way and bleeding awhile.” He glanced up when Bodey opened the door. A gust of moist wind blustered through the car.
“Dad, you’re up.” Bodey climbed into the front seat, handing over the canteen of water and smiling with relief at both John and me. He shut the door, blocking out the warmth seeking weather.
John smiled at his son, struggling to sit up on the bench seat. “I’m awake. We can go back to the store.”
“What about the soldiers? Can you tell me what happened?” Bodey settled onto his heels, watching as his dad drank thirstily.
“They’re gone. The group after Kelly and her mom came and they killed each other. I think the remaining members of the soldier group headed toward Bayview, so we’ll stay here in Athol.” He looked down at the lip of the canteen. “All of the Monaghans are gone. I...” He swallowed, avoiding our eyes. “I tried, but I couldn’t save them. Not even the twelve-year-old. I forgot his name.”
Bodey’s eyes glistened. “What’s going to happen to us, Dad?” He leaned across the back of the seat and gripped my free hand and John’s shoulder.
John shrugged softly. The patter of the rain as it started up again with a vengeance broke the tension in our silence. He inhaled and then spoke slowly. “We keep surviving, son. Together. We’ll do what’s needed.” He pulled our hands into his, holding us together in a tight group. “As long as we stay together, we’ll be fine.”
Stay together. Another rule I would be forced to break?
Epilogue
Six months later
We still hadn’t made it to Bayview. We’d made it everywhere else in the northwest, I could’ve sworn to that.
I shivered, rubbing my arms briskly. Even all my layers didn’t ward off the flesh freezing wind. “Three... blizzards in... two days?”
Bodey chuckled, pulling me into his arms. “I think we can call it one storm that won’t stop.” He turned his back to the wind, protecting me with my shoulders against a tree. The evergreen branches above held the majority of the snow at bay.
A shrill whistle reached us through the swirling snow. John waved from across the street. He didn’t yell or anything else, just that long piercing signal.
Bodey grabbed my hand and we jogged to John, our backpacks bouncing at our waists, smacking the back bones of our hips. Joining him alongside the boarded building, we huddled under the eaves of the warehouse.
“I can’t believe it, but our stuff hasn’t been touched since we left. We’ll camp here while the weather is rough, but we won’t be able to stay much past that.” John pulled my pack off. He motioned us to the door. “Come on. There might still be some food in here.”
I followed John and Bodey into the flooring and carpet building where we’d started out.
Six months jumping camps and scavenging for survival items took its toll.
We obsessed about food and keeping warm. The last stop before the warehouse, we camped in an old tool shed, sleeping on the dirt floor. The inside hadn’t been warm enough to keep our breath from fogging.
Even though the building was cold, the biting wind couldn’t reach us. I relaxed my shoulders in relief. Always fighting the elements sponged my energy. We had lost the majority of our fat stores as we fought to stay alive.
“Who do you think it was?” Someone followed us, always a step or two behind. I searched the corners, like John hadn’t already conducted a thorough search. Of course he had. One thing about John – his efficiency was never half-way. He accomplished what he set out to do.
The day he decided to go after his wife and daughter, we started our trip across the northern panhandle. I’ve never seen such dogged persistence.
People we spoke to and traded with would give vague hints suggesting they’d seen a mother-daughter duo. We would be excited and then a new person would refute the information from before, sending us into a discouraged spiral.
Every step stung when we didn’t seem any closer.
“I’m not sure who it could be. I thought for sure that gang who chased us from my place had all been killed with the soldiers at the Monaghan place, but maybe not.” John kicked an empty paint can upright and slid it across to the hidden fireplace he’d made so long ago. Pulling rolls of carpet from around the setup, he squatted to the can and blew into the belly of the stove. Ash and dust clouded around him.
Tucking paper and wood chunks into the fireplace, John flicked the lighter he’d found in a previously looted gas station.
Paper caught fire fast and in minutes wood crackled under the heat of the flames.
Warmth reached me in small waves which grew steadier. I edged closer, kneeling beside John as he stared into the heat.
Bodey dropped to his rear, holding his hands up, palms out to the budding flames. “Oh, wow. That’s amazing.” He sighed.
Pushing at the bag he’d dropped beside the wall, John dragged three cans of corn from the top pocket. Bodey and I watched with hunger.
We hadn’t eaten for two days. Water wasn’t hard to come by, but food... ah, food.
I helped open the cans, meeting John’s sunken in gaze. “We’ll get better at this, won’t we?” We’d come full circle, as if we never had left the small town of Athol, never searched for family lost in the bombs or the terror of survival. I’m not sure if we would leave that building or not, but at least we were together. At least I wasn’t alone.
A genuine smile split John’s somber mask. “Either we get better or we die. Nothing too serious.” He winked.
Bodey chuckled and I offered a courtesy laugh.
Wouldn’t it be better to die? How much more did we need to go through to reach the worst?
Hopefully this was the worst. I couldn’t handle something happening to Bodey. Or his dad. I’d grown very fond of them both... okay, I couldn’t lie. I was falling for Bodey and it hurt. Because what if I lost him, too? Losing someone I cared about wasn’t an option. Not if I wanted to survive any longer. Losing either of them might break me.
The cost of my survival had reached an all-time high, I’m not sure I could afford the price if it rose any higher.
I took a bite and chewed the firm kernels.
Surviving wasn’t the hard part. Not getting sucked in to the fear was.
I glanced at Bodey. He glanced at me and winked.
With those guys? I could survive a little longer.
The end of Cost of Survival, book #1 of the Worth of Souls series. Stay tuned for Exchange Rate, book #2, and see just what following the rules will cost Kelly, Bodey, and John.
Keep reading for a letter from the author as well as Chapter One of Exchange Rate.
AND click HERE to see the official trailer for the book! It’s amazing!
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About the Author
Bonnie R. Paulson is all about survival. Do you have what it takes to turn the page?
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Hello Survivor!
Here we are, at the end of Cost of Survival and you’re ready for the next book. I know I am. John, Bodey, and Kelley have turned into a huge part of my family and I hope you enjoyed them as much as me.
If you made it this far, you know about Megan, the mom. I don’t kill characters for fun – okay, sometimes I do – but not this character. Megan was... a huge piece of me? I think she’s the part of me that wants so desperately to have unwavering faith and to be calm in the face of emergencies. Come on, she drank tea with bombs falling around her. I don’t know if that makes her a female Rambo, or crazy. But I liked it. My grandmother is like that. Unflappable.
I would love to hear from you about the series or any of my work. Check my website for recipes and One Minute Survival Mama videos with quick tips on surviving life.
Thank you again and go grab Exchange Rate if you haven’t already.
I appreciate the time you’re spending with me. Your time is valuable and I know that. Thank you!
Stay Alive,
Bonnie
Exchange Rate,
Chapter 1
I’m not sure what I thought would happen when I escaped a group of men intent on selling me for resources. Hoping they’d forget about me, I didn’t tell John and Bodey why Charlie and his group followed us like the most rabid of hyenas.
At least at first.
John’s intuition nailed truth on the head. When he’d cornered me about the man, asking if he was the same one who’d stalked my mom and burned John’s house, I’d nodded, biting back tears. My shame haunted me. We ran from Charlie while seeking John’s family, using valuable energy to constantly look over our shoulders.
Even as John constantly warned us to stay together, his despondency at ever finding his wife and daughter grew. His depression worsened and more often than not he sent Bodey and me out on food hunts and resource scavenges.
Cost of Survival Page 17
