by Lissa Bryan
It was getting harder to force the words out of her tightening throat. Carly hugged her arms tightly around herself and shivered, though the day was warm. “H-he hit me. Hit me so hard I fell out of my chair onto the floor, and then he was choking me. I know he didn’t mean it. He never would have hurt me, not in a million years, but the fever—I shoved him off me, and he hit the wall at a bad angle, and his neck broke. I killed him. I killed my dad.” The last word was barely a whisper, but she had gotten through the worst of it. In the midst of the pain, there was a small glimmer of relief.
“Carly, honey,” Justin said softly. “I had no idea you were carrying a burden like this.”
Almost over. Tell him the rest of it, and let it be finished. “I don’t remember much after that. I know I put him in bed next to my mom. She died less than an hour later.”
Justin must have heard the guilt in the last few words because he said her name and moved toward her as though to hug her. Carly stepped back. If he took her into his arms, she’d cry and maybe never be able to stop. She had to finish this.
“I clasped their hands together. I took some things—my dad’s ring and my mom’s pearls— and left. I went home. I tried to call 911, but it always rang busy. I kept trying until the day the phone didn’t work anymore. I just left them there, Justin. I should have . . . I don’t know. I should have done something for them.”
His warm fingers, rough with calluses, tilted her face up. Her vision was blurry from the tears. She blinked and they fell onto her cheeks, and she drew in a shaky breath. “Now you know. I killed my dad.”
“He’d be proud of you, you know.”
Her mouth dropped open slightly, and she stared at him. What in the world did he mean by that?
“He would have been proud you fought back and saved your life. Honestly, I can’t say I knew him well, but I know Carl Daniels would have wanted his daughter to be able to defend herself and be capable of getting away from someone hurting her.”
“But . . . it was my dad.” She didn’t know how to explain her confused feelings because she’d never quite managed to sort them out herself. Guilt and sorrow warred with her practical side, which reminded her again and again she hadn’t had a choice. If only her head could convince her heart.
Justin pulled Carly into his arms. She sank gratefully into the hug, hiding her face against his chest. The rumble of his voice was soothing. “No, he wasn’t your dad at that moment, just like you weren’t his daughter. As you said, Carl never would have hurt his daughter. You were someone else to him. A stranger. An enemy. And he was someone else, as well. He would have wanted you to save yourself, Carly. There’s not a doubt in my mind about that. Even if you had meant to kill him, I’d say the same thing.”
Carly closed her eyes. She could hear the strong, steady thump of his heart beneath her ear. “You’re not just saying that to try to make me feel better, are you?”
“I wouldn’t do that. If I thought you’d done wrong, I’d tell you. And then I’d tell you to forgive yourself and do better with your life from now on. But I don’t need to say that. Because you didn’t do anything that needs forgiveness.”
She could hear the sincerity in his words, and as she had told him before, she knew he was right in her mind, but her heart was another matter.
“Do you believe in God, Carly?”
The last question threw her. It seemed so out of the blue, and for a moment, Carly didn’t respond. “I suppose. I mean, I’m not religious, but I’m not an atheist, either.”
“Do you believe in the afterlife? Meeting up again with your loved ones?” She felt something brush against the top of her head and wondered if it was his lips.
She thought about it for a moment. “I like that idea. I’m not sure how much faith I put into it, but I hope it’s true. I would love to see Mom and Dad again.”
Justin’s voice was low and gruff. He tucked his fingers under her chin and lifted her face until she was looking up into his eyes. “The first thing he’ll do when he sees you, Carly, is tell you how proud he is of you and how much he loves you.”
“How do you know?” Carly asked. She didn’t want to sound snarky, but the question came out a little irritably, nevertheless.
“Because that’s how I’d feel.”
Three days later, Justin had to admit he was in trouble.
They had just left the town of Watson Lake after staring in bewilderment at the Sign Post Forest. Hundreds of poles and trees were covered in signs of all shapes and sizes, from road signs to hand painted plaques, which all bore the name of a town. Handwritten names and stickers adorned some of them. Some were veritable antiques, faded and weather-beaten, while others were bright and new.
“I wonder how something like this gets started?” Justin asked. He shook his head slightly as he gazed around at the innumerable messages around them. He’d never seen anything quite like this in all his travels. “Who was the first person who put up a sign, and why?”
“It’s leaving a mark,” Carly said. “It’s a way of telling the world, ‘I was here. I was.’ In that way, they can become a part of it, you know?” She reached out and touched a wood sign with burned letters that read Shreveport, with a name carved below. “This person—he imagined someone coming along fifty years from now and thinking of him, even just for a moment.” She traced over the letters, a thoughtful expression on her face. “The ancient Egyptians believed that as long as your name survived, you were immortal. Maybe people still think that way.” Sadness briefly crossed her face, but she turned away and they headed into the town.
The wagon was bulging with supplies. They could have taken more from Watson Lake if they’d had room, and Justin mourned that fact. Justin had even looked for a larger wagon or a second he could hook to Carly’s bike but had no luck. He could tell Carly was tired after a long day of scavenging, so they set up camp on the outskirts of town.
Carly and Sam had gone down to the lake for a bath and a swim, respectively. Justin was gathering firewood, and he honestly didn’t mean to go toward the lake, unless his body had become a tractor beam where she was concerned. That seemed likely, considering he’d woken the last two mornings on her side of the tent, with Carly’s back spooned against his chest. He’d managed, both times, to carefully ease away without waking her.
Carly stood with her back to him, her arms raised in graceful pale arcs above her head as she shampooed her hair. The wood fell out of Justin’s arms with a clatter, which she didn’t hear because Sam went bounding through the small waves at the shore to pounce on her and knock her into the water. Carly sputtered and laughed as she surfaced. She stood, and that’s when Justin knew he was doomed.
She was wearing a white tank top and white cotton shorts. He thought all women knew the danger of wearing white cotton in water, but Carly didn’t seem to realize she might as well have been nude for all the transparent-when-wet material revealed. She giggled and playfully lunged at the wolf.
She didn’t notice Justin in the tree line, intent as she was on her game with Sam. Sam darted around to her back and knocked her into the water again, and Carly laughed as she lunged to try and catch him. It was such a sweet sound. She didn’t laugh enough.
Yep. Doomed.
Feeling like a pervert, Justin gathered up the bundle of sticks and small logs he’d gathered and headed back to camp. He laid them in a pile on the ground beside the fire ring he had already constructed. Carly intended on starting the fire for practice. He sincerely hoped she changed her clothes first.
Justin had tried to fight his attraction to her. He told himself sternly he was much too old for her. He sure as hell wasn’t good enough for her; her father would have killed him before he’d allow Justin within ten feet of her. And it would be wrong to take advantage of her feelings of gratitude and dependence.
His body disagreed.
Vehemently.
He’d tried to force himself into a paternal role with her, but then he ruined it by saying something
flirtatious. He couldn’t help himself. He delighted in seeing her giggle or blush.
Sam trotted back to camp, smelling of vanilla-scented shampoo. He gave his fur a vigorous shake as if to throw the aroma off him and gave Justin a doleful look.
“Sorry, man,” Justin said. “Girls like that stinky shit. And if you roll in anything, she’s just going to wash you again.”
Sam lay down with a long-suffering “Hmph!”
Carly followed him into the campsite just a few moments later. Her hair and torso were wrapped in a towel, and Justin said a silent prayer of thanks at that. She smiled at Justin and disappeared into the tent. She emerged a few minutes later in a T-shirt and pajama pants that were light blue and had little white sheep printed on them. Her wet hair hung down her back in soft waves. Justin had been all over the world and admired female beauty of many races and cultures, and in his opinion, Carly’s hair was the most beautiful he’d ever seen. He liked it best when she left it loose to tumble down her back. It caught the sunlight and turned to gold. In the firelight, it was rich amber with dark honey shadows.
Yep. Doomed.
Carly whipped it into a braid and caught it at the bottom with a black elastic hair tie. Where did she keep getting those damn things? Whenever Justin came across one, he made sure it got “lost.” He must have tossed a hundred of them so far, but she had an apparently inexhaustible supply.
“I’m going down to the lake,” Justin announced. He grabbed the things he needed from his pack.
“Okay.” Carly tossed him a bright smile and started building a tiny pyramid of kindling. She had his knife and had worked the piece of flint out of the pommel. He wanted to stay around and watch because he knew as soon as she managed to get a fire going she would give that proud little grin that always made his heart swell.
Doomed.
Justin walked out into the water, holding back the urge to shout a curse at how cold it was. He had no idea how Carly stood it as well as she did. Maybe she had acclimated to it while growing up in Alaska, but as much of a “city girl” as she had been, he doubted it.
Justin washed quickly with a bar of unscented soap, a habit he had acquired in The Unit. He’d once detected an enemy due to the faint scent of his aftershave and had used unscented products since. He wondered if Carly would like it if he got a bottle of men’s shower gel—the stinky shit they sold in those stores that just carried lotions and perfumes. Maybe he should keep an eye out for—
Justin chided himself. If anything, he ought to be thinking of ways to keep her away, not to attract her.
He shaved, the first time he’d done it in months, and it was a relief to get that itchy fur off his face. He walked back onto the bank and scooped up his towel just as Carly burst from the tree line. “I did it! I did it!” She slammed on the brakes when she realized he was nude save for the towel he held in front of his junk.
“Sorry!” Carly blurted and spun around. “I—uh . . . I wasn’t thinking. I was just so excited I wanted to tell you right away.”
“It’s okay.” Justin blushed and then was embarrassed for blushing. He pulled on a pair of boxers and his jeans and hoped the heat would fade from his cheeks before she looked at him again. “I’m decent now.”
She spun around again with a big smile before it suddenly died as her eyes went wide. She stared, openmouthed. Justin glanced over his shoulder to make sure she wasn’t staring at something behind him. “What?”
“You shaved.”
Justin rubbed his hairless jaw. “Yeah, I did.”
“I didn’t—You—”
“I don’t usually wear a beard, if that’s what you mean. I only had one because I couldn’t find any decent disposable razors before this.” He couldn’t get a read on her right now, which troubled him slightly. She just stared at him, openmouthed. Justin heard himself talking and realized he was babbling, which brought the blush back. “I found one in that Carcross store. It’s like men all over the country said, ‘Oh shit, it’s the apocalypse. I might not be able to get refills for my Gillette Mach3, so I’d better stock up.’ ”
Carly chuckled weakly, still staring.
He patted his cheeks and throat, checking for blood. Did he really look strange to her without the beard? “What?”
“N-nothing.” Carly turned and walked back toward the camp.
Doomed.
Justin was no longer the scruffy Biker Guy who had lurked outside Carly’s apartment building. He was still the same tall, muscular man, but shaving had transformed him.
Carly kept stealing glances at him as he cooked dinner. For the first time, she noticed his high cheekbones. His nose had been broken and had a crooked bump at the top, but it somehow only enhanced the rest of his features. He looked . . . strong, especially since his angular jaw wasn’t hidden under all that hair, and she discovered he had the cutest dimple in the center of his chin. Carly couldn’t resist peeking at him again.
She wondered where he’d gotten the numerous scars he had all over his body before she blushed when she remembered how much of that body she had seen. From his wide shoulders down to his knees, his body was covered in scars. Some were smooth and thin, and others were jagged and twisted, like a wound left to heal on its own without the benefit of stitches.
Carly stole another glance at him and then forced herself to look away. Being attracted to him would only end badly, she told herself, because despite his lighthearted flirting, she was pretty sure he wasn’t interested in her that way. If she had to guess, she would say Justin saw her in the same light as if she were someone else’s pet he was taking care of while they were on vacation. That is, a somewhat annoying, sometimes vaguely amusing pain in the ass he’d be grateful to offload at the first chance he got. Carly wasn’t even sure he really saw her as an adult, or as a woman, and not a silly little girl he had to take care of. And every time Carly did something stupid, like fall off her bike or stumble into danger, and he had to rescue her yet again, it made it worse.
At least Carly had proved tonight she was able to start a fire. Justin had been full of praise when he returned to the camp and saw it burning brightly, the flames dancing high and strong above the pyramid of logs. They had to let it die down a bit before he could cook, so they both settled down to rest and relax. Carly took her book from her pack and saw Justin had done the same.
At some point, Carly looked up from her book to see Justin struggling with his own. He closed one eye. He tried bringing the book closer and then holding it out further away. Carly watched his eyes drift over the page. He blinked hard then tried to focus again.
Carly got up and went over to her pack. She was hesitant knowing Justin didn’t like to talk about his dyslexia. When she’d seen these in one of the stores they’d visited a while back, she had grabbed this item, wondering how she might approach it and if it might work for him.
Carly walked over to where he lounged with his back against a tree. Justin glanced up at her. “Hey, what’s up?”
She gnawed on the inside of her cheek. “I wanted to see if you felt like trying something.”
“Trying what?”
Carly held up the report cover. It was light blue, transparent plastic. “My mom used to volunteer to help tutor kids in summer school. This was one of the tricks they used to help the dyslexic kids with reading. If you’re willing to try it, we’ll start with the blue one because blue was the color that worked for most of the kids.”
Justin arched both brows in skepticism. “I never heard that.”
“It’s worth a try, right? We can just throw it away if it doesn’t work.”
He took the report cover from her and opened it. He laid the top layer over his book and held it up again to read. He was silent for a long moment, and then he looked up at Carly in astonishment. “It really does help. It’s not perfect, but this is amazing, Carly. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Carly grinned and barely restrained herself from skipping as she went back over to her own spot on th
e other side of camp. She lay down on the sleeping bag on her stomach and propped the book she was reading on the pillow in front of her. Her legs were bent up behind her, ankles crossed in the air. She didn’t know Justin was watching her until she looked up. His expression was strange, indecipherable. When he caught her eye, he quickly looked back down at his plastic-covered page, a small frown on his lips. She thought she detected a hint of a blush and wondered why.
God, she hoped she hadn’t offended him in some way. People could be really sensitive about that sort of thing.
Later, as Justin cooked, that small frown returned. Carly couldn’t contain her curiosity any more. “What are you thinking?” she asked.
“Nothing important.”
“You seem to be concentrating on nothing rather intently.”
“I’m sorry, Carly. I just have . . . some things on my mind. Don’t let it worry you, all right? And thanks for the plastic idea. It really helped me.”
“You’re welcome.” Maybe that was what was bothering him. Who knew? She could never figure out men’s thinking patterns.
After dinner, Carly took their dishes down to the beach to wash them, and she sat there afterward, looking out over the water at the mountains. She was leaving behind everything she knew and trying to shape herself into the kind of person this new world required. Struggling to adapt, just like in evolution, to develop the traits she needed to survive. Then, maybe, Justin wouldn’t see her as a helpless little pest. Maybe he would see her as . . .
Carly didn’t finish the thought.
Their days soon fell into a comfortable pattern. Justin was careful not to rush them. Every day, Carly got stronger, and they were able to cover more ground. They traveled with the sun. Justin woke her each morning at dawn, and they’d have breakfast before tearing down the campsite and reloading the wagon. They were usually ready to start moving again by the time the sun broke over the horizon. When it began to set in the evening, they would stop and set up the camp again.
