Chapter Three

Chapter Three

"I can do this," Carly said to herself. "I can. It's just a matter of willpower. Keep pushing. We're almost there. I can do this."

Her calf muscles burned with exhaustion, and it wasn't even lunch time yet. Carly leaned forward and pushed. The bike wobbled beneath her. She pushed down with the other leg. "Come on. Come on..." She was going at a slower-than-walking pace. Justin turned to look at her, and that's when Carly lost her balance and toppled over. The bike clattered on the pavement, and she scraped her palms when she landed. Fortunately, she was wearing her jeans, so her knees were protected.

Flushed with embarrassment, Carly climbed to her feet.

Justin hopped off of his own bike and came over to help her up. "Let me see your hands."

"I'm fine."

"Carly, let me see." His voice was low and coaxing, which made her feel even more foolish for objecting, but she just wanted to get back on her bike and forget about it. "I'm fine."

"No, you're not. Even a small scrape is nothing to fuck around with now. If you get an infection..."

"Justin, it didn't even break the skin. I'm fine."

"Sit down," he coaxed. "Come on. Please?"

With a sigh of exasperation, Carly did as he asked. Justin took her hands in his and examined her palms.

"See? No big deal."

"They should still be cleaned, just in case."

"Fine," she said with ill grace. "If it means that much to you."

He went to the wagon and brought back a bottle of peroxide. She stretched out her arms and let him pour a stream of it over her wounds. She hissed at the sting; maybe it was deeper than she thought.

"Your knees?"

"Will you believe me if I say I'm fine?" she asked with a small smile.

"Probably not. And anyway, it gives me a chance to check out your legs."

Carly giggled and pulled up the hem of her jeans daintily, like a Victorian maiden displaying a bit of ankle. "Seen enough?"

He grinned at her and pushed up the cuff to her knee to examine the bruised skin there. "Better check the other one, just to be on the safe side."

She pulled up the leg. "There. Satisfied?"

"Oh, honey, the jokes I could make with that one..."

Carly blushed and wondered, not for the first time, if he was flirting with her a little. But then again, knowing him, it could be something to take her mind off unpleasant topics, like how she was going to get up the stupid mountain.

"Why don't we walk?" he asked. He sounded relaxed and casual, as though the slower speed didn't bother him a bit, but then again, as slow as she'd been pedaling, walking would probably be faster. "Toss your bike in the wagon."

She didn't want to give up. She hated looking weak and helpless in front of him, but she had to admit to being tapped out. "Maybe we can walk for a little bit."

"Sounds good." He helped her to her feet and put her bike in the wagon.

"Why won't you hook that thing up to Shadowfax?"

"We don't know what kind of training she's had. Give her a little time."

"You're afraid she'll run off with our stuff?"

"It's always a possibility."

Carly hitched up her jeans. Even with the belt Justin had made for her by cutting down one of his, her jeans were too loose and kept drooping down to her hips. But as Justin thought they would reach White Pass today, he wanted her to wear her gun. She wore the rectangular nylon holster pouch with the .22 inside clipped to her belt, and she was always aware of its somber weight against her hip. She was nervous carrying a loaded gun around with her, but Justin said he wanted her to get used to wearing it.

"Do you think I hurt the gun?" she asked. The woven nylon of the pouch was scuffed from her fall.

Justin's eyes sparkled, but his voice was solemn as he answered. "Nah. They're tough."

"I really wish I didn't have to wear it."

"Remember, I told you we're bound to run into other survivors," he said. "Some of them might not be nice people. The law is dead, Carly. We're in the jungle now, and the only law is survival of the strongest."

"Why did you bring me, then? I'm not one of the strongest. All I'm doing is weighing you down."

He grinned at her. "I keep picking up trade goods. I bet I could get at least a dozen cans of ravioli for you."

"That's it?" She pretended to be offended. "I would think a case, at least."

He shrugged. "Well, you can't cook. That brings down the price a bit. And you talk in your sleep."

"I do not!" she said, indignant.

"Then how do I know you dreamed of french fries last night?"

Carly fell silent. Well, maybe she did talk in her sleep. She tried to remember all of the dreams she'd had since they'd begun sleeping in close proximity, hoping she hadn't babbled about anything embarrassing.

"Oh? No witty retort? Don't leave me hanging."

She said nothing. Her cheeks felt hot.

They were silent for a few minutes until he glanced over at her. "I don't think you're weak," he told her. "I think you've just been dumped into a situation you weren't prepared for. Now that you know what we're up against, I'm absolutely confident you'll rise to the challenge. I've seen weakness, Carly. And you're not weak."

Carly didn't look at him. She appreciated the kindness, but she didn't entirely believe him. He was just being nice about it. Carly knew she didn't contribute anything of value. She kicked a rock lying in their path and sent it skittering across the pavement. Sam gave a joyful bark and chased it. They'd played a lot of games of fetch when he was smaller and could be exercised by running back and forth across her little apartment. He brought her back the slobber-covered rock, and she patted him. She threw it overhand, and he bolted after it.

"You don't believe me, do you?"

How did he do that?Sometimes it seemed as though he could read her mind. "I think you're trying to be nice."

He shook his head. "I wouldn't have brought you if I didn't think you were a survivor. You'll surprise yourself, Carly. Mark my words."

They stopped for lunch at noon, judging by the position of the sun. Carly didn't feel all that hungry, but Justin insisted she eat to build her stamina. Their current meal was cold spaghetti rings from the can by the side of the road. Carly watched Sam try to coax Shadowfax into a game of chase, but the horse still didn't cotton to the idea of being chased by a wolf. It brought up her instinctual fears. He nipped at her forelegs a couple of time, and Carly saw a big "trouble brewing" sign flash above them. Before she could swallow her bite of cold pasta, Justin called Sam to come over and lie down beside them before he made Shadowfax nervous enough to lash out with one of her hooves. Carly gave him a tentative smile. It was nice to know she wasn't the only one Justin was looking out for.

Late in the afternoon, they finally arrived at the summit of White Pass and the border between the U.S. and Canada. Cement barriers, like those on the bridge, had been erected to block traffic, and a line of cars sat on both sides. Tattered flags flapped on the poles mounted on the rocky summit. Carly was disappointed. "I thought there would be something here."

"Like what?"

"I don't know. Tourist shops or something. A building of some kind." Not just a tiny log shack that held maintenance supplies. It wasn't even large enough for them to sleep in with all of the stuff crammed inside, and they were too tired to even consider hauling it out.

"I learned in history class there used to be border guards who stayed out here to check to make sure each man had the required ton of supplies before allowing them to pass."

Justin glanced at their wagon. "Puts it in perspective, doesn't it?"

She stopped at the base of the flags. One more foot forward and she would leave Alaska for the first time and likely never see it again. She looked back over her shoulder for a long moment and was hit by the fleeting temptation to turn around and coast back down the mountain to Skagway. But she turned to face forward, to face the future, full of unknown perils and uncertainties. It was a long and winding road to an unknown destination, a road that would take courage to face. And she found she had that courage, the same courage her history teacher had said drove the gold miners onward when there was just a narrow trail through these mountains.

Perhaps it was because the border was so anticlimactic, but Carly was much happier when Justin told her that night they would make it to Fraser the next day. "Seven miles, all downhill," he said, and in the morning she was eager to go, wolfing down her eggs and coffee with gusto. She couldn't have said why seeing buildings and some measure of civilization was so important to her, but she was excited to get moving.

The downhill trek would have been more fun if Justin hadn't been such a killjoy about her speed. He insisted she take it slow and easy, and Carly teasingly stuck her lower lip out at him. He reminded her that the animals couldn't keep up such a pace, which convinced her to slow down.

Justin gazed around them, his eyes wide as he took in the vista before them. "Carly, are you seeing this? It's beautiful."

Carly had to admit she hadn't noticed it. She'd grown accustomed to the majestic views, but she supposed someone from Omaha would find them incredible even if he had seen them once before on the way into the state. The awe on his face made her take another look at the jagged mountains over the sparkling water in the valley below, an image she engraved in her heart, knowing as she did, she was unlikely to ever see it again.

Fraser had only about half a dozen buildings, including a corrugated metal customs hut in a repulsive shade of yellow-brown and a small collection of identical split-level houses for road crew workers. Beside the tracks stood a red clapboard railroad station with a train parked in front of it. Carly nudged Justin with her elbow when they dismounted at the edge of town. "Can you drive one of those?" she challenged.

"Nope, you got me," he said with a grin. "Never had an occasion to drive a train."

"Yeesh, look at that thing." Carly pointed to the strange, fan blade-like machine on the front of the train. Sam trotted around sniffing at the wheels.

"I think it's a snowplow for the tracks. I've heard of them, but I've never seen one before."

He wandered over to look at it, and Sam bounded after him. Carly headed toward the train station. The door was unlocked and she walked inside the silent and stuffy building. A pair of restrooms was in front of her, and to the left a door led into the rest of the building. It creaked when she pushed it open, and she had only a moment to gather an impression of a large, dusty room with an office desk before a blinding pain slammed across her upper arm and back. She was knocked to the floor by the force of it and saw a man standing above her, holding a two-by-four. In her old life, he was the kind of man she would have asked for directions—a plump, pleasant-looking man in his mid-fifties wearing rimless glasses. But behind the lenses, his eyes gleamed with gleeful hate.

"The black cowboy says you're the seventh!" He drew out the "s" sounds with a snakelike hiss and swung the board down. Carly rolled, avoiding the blow, which would have probably crushed her skull. The man howled and dropped the board from the painful vibrations of striking the floor, and Carly scrambled to her feet to dart around the back of the desk. The man charged at her, and Carly grabbed the back of the office chair and slung it at him. He tripped over it as she had intended but regained his footing and lunged at her with an inhuman screech. "You won't take my petals!"

Sam burst through the door and used the top of the desk as a launch pad to pounce on the man with a vicious snarl. He sank his teeth into the man's shoulder, and the man screamed in pain. He punched Sam in the side, and Sam went sprawling with a high-pitched yelp from the force of the blow. Carly fumbled at her belt and pulled the gun out of its holster. She didn't even have time to shout a warning as the man surged to his feet and barreled at her. She pulled the trigger as fast as she could, nailing him with three shots to the chest. It didn't stop his momentum; he plowed into Carly and knocked her flat on her back, landing on top of her with a bone-rattling thud.

"Get off me!" She shoved him to the side and scrambled over to Sam, who had gotten to his feet and was testing out his legs. Carly grabbed his collar and hauled him toward the door. Her only thought was to get them out of there and away from the crazy man.

"Jesus Christ!" Justin shouted as he ran toward her. He caught her as she staggered out the door. "Where are you hurt? Show me, Carly. Where are you hurt?"

She realized she was still holding the gun, and the front of her body was soaked in blood. Justin yanked up her shirt. "It's not me, it's not me. Check Sam."

"What the fuck?"

"I shot the man," Carly said. "I shot him." She looked at the gun still in her hand and released it. It dropped to the gravel with a dull clatter, and Carly swayed on her feet.

A mantle of icy calm fell over Justin. "Tell me what happened."

Carly pointed. "The crazy man, he tried to hit me—he did hit me. With a b-board. He was crazy. He—he was going to k-kill me."

"Stay here," Justin ordered. He dashed inside the building as he drew his own gun. Carly sank down until she was sitting on the ground. She spotted a penny mashed down into the gravel. She picked it up and rubbed off the dust with her finger. Canadian. Sam, limping with every step, circled around Carly as though trying to guard her on all sides.

Justin's boots crunched on the gravel again when he returned. He took her by the arm, and Carly cried out in pain. Without a word, he whipped her shirt over her head and examined her arm and back.

"Check S-Sam," Carly said. "He got p-punched."

Justin said nothing. He was gently prodding Carly's arm. He moved to her back, pressing all around the wound. He let out a relieved breath and handed Carly her shirt. He felt over Sam's ribs with the same gentle prodding. Sam whined but endured it.

"There's one hell of a vicious bite on that man's shoulder." He rubbed Sam's ears gently. "Good boy, Sam."

Carly started to pull her shirt back over her head and then recoiled from the blood. She tossed it aside with a grimace.

Justin scooped up the gun and helped Carly to her feet, keeping a grip on her forearm. Her body shook from adrenaline, and she felt a cold flutter in her stomach. "Is he dead?"

"Yeah, Carly. He's dead."

She nodded. "Excuse me." She staggered over to the side of the road and lost her breakfast, from the pain as much as from the shock. She'd killed someone and it wasn't even noon yet.

Justin's large, warm hand was on her back. He held out a bottle of water to her. Carly took a small sip and swished out her mouth. She handed it back to him. "I'm sorry."

"For wandering off like that? You should be. You nearly got yourself killed."

"No, I mean for wussing out and getting sick."

"I did the same thing." He stared off into the distance for a moment and his voice was low and gruff. "The first time I killed someone, I puked, and then I cried. It's not supposed to be easy, Carly."

"Can we—Can we please move on, Justin?"

"Yeah, honey, we can. You want to rest for a minute?"

She shook her head and climbed onto her bike. As soon as she tried to lean forward to grip the handlebars, she knew she couldn't do it. Pain ripped through her back where the board had struck her. She glanced over and saw Justin hadn't tried to mount his own bike. He was watching her, waiting for her to say she couldn't ride. But why?

Probably so he doesn't have to listen to you yammer on about how you can do it, her mind helpfully supplied. She flushed and dismounted from the bike. The compassion in his eyes made it a bit worse. Was she really that predictable? She tried for dignity. "Should we set up camp here or try another one of those buildings?"

"I'm going to check out the houses. Rest here, all right?"

She nodded.

"Sam, stay," he ordered and Sam gave a little "woof" of agreement. She leaned her bike against the wagon and sat down in its shade. Sam lay down beside her and pillowed his head on her thigh, though he remained alert, his ears locking in on any sound. He sighed, puffing air out the sides of his muzzle, and Carly stroked his head. "Thank you for coming to rescue me. I hope your ribs aren't hurt."

He licked her hand.

"It's so strange," she told him. "It's already starting to feel like a dream I had instead of reality. I know I had to, but..." She swallowed past the lump in her throat. "But it doesn't make it any easier. Do you think he had family? Friends? At one time, I bet he did. Before the Infection, at least, even if he doesn't now."

Gravel crunched and she looked over her shoulder to see Justin approaching. She stood.

"I found us a house," he said. "And I've got a wonderful surprise for you."

She followed him up the hill without much interest. They walked inside the house, and Justin flipped a switch. The lights came on.

Carly jumped and gasped. "How is this possible?"

"There was an article on the refrigerator. They have a micro-hydro station. The electricity is generated by the creek, powering a turbine."

"Oh my God, Justin, does this mean..."

He grinned at her. "Hot showers!"

Carly burst into tears.

Justin took her into his arms and stroked her hair. "Hey, honey, no reason to cry."

But she couldn't stop. A tumult of emotions, into which guilt and some leftover adrenaline were stirred, had broken loose, and she had to get them out. He murmured to her while she wept and waited until the storm had passed. He led her to the living room and instructed her to lie down on the sofa. Sam lay down on the floor right in front of her, his head pillowed on his paws.

Justin returned in a moment with a few bags of frozen vegetables in his hands.

"I really don't feel like cooking now," she said with a wry smile.

He chuckled. "They're for your back. Lie on your stomach."

She realized at that moment she wasn't wearing a shirt. Her sports bra was more concealing than a bikini, and she'd worn it several times in the gym with nothing over it. But she was acutely aware of the amount of skin she was showing. Justin didn't appear to be. He laid a towel over her back and then put the frozen vegetables on top of it. "I'll get you something for the pain and swelling."

"No," Carly said. "Save it. We may need it later."

"Just over-the-counter stuff, honey. We can find more. In fact, I bet if I look in the medicine cabinet, I'll find a bottle of it."

He went upstairs instead of out to the wagon and returned with a bottle of naproxen, and he dumped out a number of tablets. "Take two of these and call me in the morning."

She didn't get it.

"Sorry, old joke. Here." He dropped the tablets in her hand and got her a bottle of water with which to take them. She tossed them back into her mouth and swallowed them before stretching out on the sofa with her head resting on her arms. She watched as he pried open Sam's mouth and expertly shoved a pill into the back of his throat before Sam even realized what had happened. Sam gave Justin an offended look and huffed as he lay back down.

"I'll be right back," Justin said. "You all right for a few minutes?"

Carly nodded. It was a lie; she didn't want to be alone. But she didn't want Justin to think she was a coward, either. She heard the front door open and gazed around the room to take her mind off being alone.

The house was sternly utilitarian, with no attempt at decoration on the white walls. The carpet was plain beige, as was the cloth sofa upon which she lay. Two matching recliners shared the other wall, and all of the seating pointed at a television.

Television!They had electricity! The remote control lay on the end table between the sofa and the recliners. Carly grabbed it and turned the television on. A place this remote would have satellite, and sure enough, the remote bore the logo of one of the satellite companies. She turned it on and began to flip through the channels.

No signal.

No signal.

No signal.

Carly tried every channel, and none of them showed anything but a black screen with those two words. She turned off the television and dropped the remote back on the end table. Sort of silly of her to hope for anything different, she thought, but tears still stung her eyes. Modern America was truly gone if there was no television.

No more American Idol. No more evening news. No more daytime soap operas. At that moment, The Young and the Restless should have been on. It had been her daytime guilty pleasure when she wasn't working. No more commercials, even. She would have given anything just to see an infomercial, something that would tell her there was someone out there, and that somewhere there was a pocket of normalcy. Justin had told her there was no normal anymore, but she still couldn't force herself into believing it.

He came back inside with the bag in which they'd been storing their dirty clothes. "I'm going to toss these in the washer." His eyes sharpened as he took in her glum expression. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Just being dumb again. I tried the TV."

He came over, crouched down beside the sofa, and gently tucked her hair behind her ear. "I'm sorry. Can... Is there anything I can do for you right now?"

She shook her head. "I'm sorry, too. I'm sorry I can't wrap my head around the fact everything is dead and gone."

"Don't be too hard on yourself. It's an enormous thing to digest; I'm not sure I've fully accepted it, myself." He patted her shoulder, rose, and went into the little laundry room off the kitchen. He sang Come Sail Away as he loaded the washer, and Carly stifled a giggle. Being that off-key had to be intentional; another of Justin's efforts to cheer her up using humor.

Justin came back into the living room and checked her back under his makeshift ice packs. "You're going to have some bruising, and you'll be sore for a few days. So, what do you say we stay right where we are until your back is better?"

Carly shook her head. As nice as it was to be inside a house, and one with electric power at that, she wanted to leave as soon as possible. "I want to go in the morning."

"We'll see how you and Sam are feeling."

She glanced down at the wolf, who was deeply asleep, his paws twitching as he dreamed.

"How did you know what he could take?"

"I had a dog myself at one time." Justin said this in a nonchalant tone, but she could detect hurt under his words, the pain of losing a pet. Carly smiled at him with sympathy.

"Would you like to watch a movie? There's a DVD player. We could watch The Lord of the Rings, if you like."

He knew she was carrying the DVD. Carly wondered when he had snooped in her pack and why he hadn't said anything before. She shook her head. That movie belonged to the memory of her and her father. "Not that one."

"They have a nice selection," Justin said quickly, sensing that he may have hit a sensitive area unintentionally. "I saw more in the other houses. Most of it's comedy and action."

"You pick."

He put in a DVD and settled down on one of the recliners. It was Dumb and Dumber, a movie Carly had seen more times than she could count; it always made her laugh, but at that moment, the humor fell flat. She kept wondering if any of the actors had survived the Infection. She wondered what had happened to the actress in the movie who also played Drucilla on The Young and the Restless. Her character had fallen off a cliff; a nice, open ending, leaving room for her to come back, but there was no more show to which she could return. Is she dead for real, now? Carly decided she didn't really want to know.

Justin wasn't watching the movie. He was watching Carly. She was stronger than she thought, but she had a tendency to push aside trauma rather than deal with it in the present. His greatest concern was that killing the man in the train station would push her back into her state of shock.

He wondered if he should tell her what concerned him the most about the incident; the man who attacked her wasn't Infected. Justin had touched the body only moments after he died and the man was not fevered. Justin wasn't sure what to make of it yet because it presented a troubling possibility—some people may have survived the Infection, but lived with brains fried from the fever. Healthy and insane.

Not everyone who had the Infection had turned violent, of course. It seemed dependent on the personality of the individual. Some searched for lost loved ones. Some hid in their homes, paranoid and terrified of monsters only they could see. Some tried to flee, as though the illness was something they could leave behind if they just got far enough. Justin thought of those bodies scattered on the ferry's piers, those in the cars on the bridge, the people who had waited to be allowed to pass and died where they sat, still waiting. And he thought of the bodies he had seen at the town's borders—bodies with bullet holes, those who persisted when the quarantine guards told them to stop. He didn't think Carly had seen them. She always averted her eyes when they came upon bodies, a trait for which he was grateful.

Carly fell asleep halfway into the movie. She hadn't even noticed when Justin added a sleeping medication to the small handful of pills he'd given her to take. He waited a bit longer to make sure she was fully under and then rose and turned off the television.

Justin went into the kitchen and picked up the telephone from its wall-mounted cradle. He hadn't been sure, but he'd suspected that this place would have a satellite telephone system because of the border patrol station, and he was pleased to discover he'd been right.

Because of his dyslexia, Justin had memorized the phone numbers of his contacts. He dialed a number and listened to it ring. He tried another with the same results. And then another. He didn't expect any of them to work, so it caught him by surprise when he suddenly heard the voice of a friend.

"Carter, it's Justin."

"Fuck me!" Carter exclaimed. "I can't believe it. I've been keeping my phone charged using car batteries, but I thought it was only wishful thinking on my part."

"I've dialed seventeen numbers. You're the only one who answered."

"Where are you, man?"

"British Columbia. You?"

"Fucking France." Carter sounded disgusted by the circumstance. "We're headed south. Think we'll settle in Nice."

"You've got someone with you?"

"My wife."

"Your wife? That's incredible. I'd say you're probably one of the few intact couples in the world. The odds against both of you being immune are astronomical." It gave him some hope that others he knew may have survived. Perhaps the Infection hadn't been so bad in some areas. Perhaps—

"She wasn't immune," Carter said, his voice grim. "She... Well, the fever did something to her. She's different now."

Justin dropped his forehead against the wall. He'd hoped he was wrong about it. "I'm sorry."

"I'm just glad to have her with me, even if she's... different. She's still in there. I see a glimmer of her old self now and again."

Justin closed his eyes. He'd only met Carter's wife once, but she'd been a nice lady, and Carter was head over heels for her. He couldn't imagine what his friend had gone through, or what it must have been like to have to accept that he would never have his wife back the way she was before the Infection.

Carter changed the subject. "How the hell d'you end up British Columbia, anyway?"

Justin told him about deciding to go on the Deadhorse Rally on a whim and his detour where he had watched Juneau from the nearby woods. He'd tried to keep his cell phone charged from car batteries as Carter had, but as the Infection grew worse, it had been a risk he grew less willing to take. And by the time it was over, he couldn't get a signal any longer. Carter was in one of the few areas where cell phones would still work because some of the French cell phone towers were powered by solar and wind, technologies that had been tested there for use in developing countries.

"Shit," Carter said softly. "I had sort of hoped... remote places like Alaska..."

"Juneau is a big tourist draw, and the incubation period was so long..." He thought of the cruise ships anchored in Juneau's harbor, the floating tombs of those who had probably brought the Infection to the sleepy little town.

"That's what we've been finding too," Carter said. "Every little village we pass through... Have you encountered any survivors?"

"One." Justin cleared his throat. "A girl I found in Juneau." He did not mention the man in the train station.

He could hear the smile in Carter's voice. "She cute?"

Justin clenched his fist. "I'm trying not to think that way."

"If you've got the only sane and healthy woman in Alaska, I recommend you start thinking that way."

Justin ignored him. "What would Lewis say about your situation?"

It was a catchphrase in The Unit: What would Lewis say? They'd even had rubber bracelets made up with the letters WWLS? Lewis had been one of the first commanders of The Unit, a cold, calculating man who could give exact odds on the success or failure of a mission. He had been technically retired, just as most of them were after a service period of five years, but he still showed up at the office every day, helping to organize and plan the missions. And he was almost always spot-on in his predictions. The one time Justin hadn't listened to him had been bad. Really bad.

"Probably five-to-one," Carter said after a pause. "I ain't gonna lie to you, man. It's bad here. I'm trying to skirt the populated areas, but I keep running into trouble, and one of these days, sum'bitches are going to get lucky. I'm saving back two shells, if you know what I mean."

Justin thudded the side of his fist against the wall. "We can't stay up here. We can't grow enough food or keep warm in the winter."

"I understand, man. Just stay frosty. And keep that girl close to your side. I'm glad you found someone, Justin, I really am."

Justin was startled. Had he let something slip, or had his tone spoken louder than his words? He teased and flirted with Carly because he just couldn't help himself, and she was so cute when she blushed, but he hadn't intended to let it go any further than that. "She's dependent on me, Carter, and I'm not going to take advantage of her gratitude. You and I both took the same psychology classes."

"You're afraid you'll fall in love with her, but her feelings for you won't be real."

Justin closed his eyes. "I don't remember you being a relationship counselor."

"As you said, we both took the same psychology courses. And this is probably the last chance I'll ever get to talk to you. If you've got a chance with this girl, take it. Life is way too fuckin' short, especially these days. You can't miss out on what might be a good thing just because you're afraid of what may or may not happen in the future. You may not even have a future, dude, so grab what happiness you can."

Justin snorted, but it was good-natured. "Thanks for the advice, Dr. Phil."

Carter chuckled. "Take care, man."

"I will. Best of luck."

"Vaya con Dios, buddy."

The line went dead. Justin hung up the phone and closed his eyes.

Carly sang while she was in the shower—a long, hot shower that felt so incredibly good. She'd woken very late; it was almost noon before she got out of bed. She called down to Justin to see where he was, and he shouted back that he was cooking lunch.

Carly washed her hair twice and conditioned it, and then she shaved her legs and under her arms. She felt really clean for the first time in months. She wrapped her hair in a towel and put on a clean T-shirt and yoga pants with socks before she headed for the staircase. The aroma made her stop in her tracks, her eyes wide. It couldn't be...

Carly ran down the stairs, through the living room and into the kitchen. She lost the towel from around her hair somewhere along the way but didn't even notice. She came to a stop in the kitchen so fast her feet slid on the linoleum.

Justin stood at the stove, pushing something around in a skillet with a metal spatula, something that hissed as it fried in oil.

"That's not..."

"Yup. French fries. I found them in the freezer."

Carly thought she was going to cry. "Oh, my God..."

He glanced at the timer. "They'll be done in about five minutes. Why don't you get out some plates for us? And, keep an eye on these. I gotta run outside."

"Why?" She was leery of the town, and going outside seemed risky.

"Burgers on the grill," he said and grinned when she hopped up and down with undisguised glee.

Burgers and fries. She couldn't believe it. She poked at the fries, shoving them around in the skillet. Through the window over the sink, she could see Justin on the patio in front of a large gas grill. Shadowfax grazed on the grass in the small yard behind it. Sam had followed Justin outside and was trying to get the horse to play chase again, but Shadowfax ignored him. Disappointed, Sam followed Justin back inside, his head tilted back as he sniffed the air, tracking the delicious scent of the burgers.

Justin brought in a plate heaped with hamburgers and cheeseburgers, which he sat down on the counter before fishing the fries out of the oil, salting them, and placing them on a paper towel to drain. While he did so, he teased Carly that women hadn't evolved to be able to grill as well as men, and it made her laugh, thinking of when she'd told him about her theory as to why men couldn't find things. And she thought of her mother teasing her father that the only time he would ever cook was when he used the grill, and the memory didn't make her sad.

It felt so strange. This was normal, a world she didn't think existed any more, a world of freezers and hot showers. A world where the clock on the microwave told the correct time. She hadn't known what the time was for months, except what she could glean from the position of the sun.

"There are no buns," Justin said apologetically. "All the bread was moldy."

"I don't mind."

"I didn't know what you'd want—a hamburger or a cheeseburger, so I made you both."

"And I'll take both!" Carly was salivating as she stared at the plate of juicy burgers. She wasn't alone. Sam sat beside her, looking up at the plate with an expression of agonized longing. Carly nudged his dog food bowl with her foot, and he glanced down with a doleful expression.

"There's mustard, ketchup, and a surprisingly large array of relish and pickles in the door of the fridge."

Carly opened the refrigerator door and wrinkled her nose. It needed to be cleaned out because some of the food had gone bad. She got the ketchup and mustard out of the pocket in the door. "What do you want?"

"Grab the bottle of hot sauce on the top."

"Hot sauce? On your burger?"

"Nope. For the fries."

"That's a sacrilege. Only ketchup or vinegar are appropriate for fries."

"You're in Canada, pumpkin. You need to add mayo to that list."

"God, that sounds so gross."

"It's not bad, actually."

"I think I'll stick to ketchup."

Justin piled fries on her plate and two of the burgers. Carly wanted to dig in right then and there, but she followed him to the little dining area and sat down at the table like a civilized person. She politely draped a napkin across her lap and then dove in.

Justin had to hide a smile at her enthusiasm. He hoped the burgers and fries might help convince Carly to stay until her back and upper arm were healed. Sam lay at his feet, watching the table with avid interest. When both of them declared themselves full—stuffed, actually, Justin picked up one of the burgers and offered it to Sam. Both of them expected him to gobble it down, but he carried it to the kitchen and laid it on the floor before lying down and holding it on its edge with his paws. He ate it in small bites, chewing enthusiastically.

"That is one strange wolf," Justin said. "Listen, Carly, I was hoping to stay a couple more days here. I managed to contact one of my friends and—"

Carly sat up in her seat and clutched at the table's edge. "How?"

"The telephone works."

Carly bolted out of her chair and ran so fast she slipped and almost fell when her socks skidded on the linoleum. She yanked the phone off of its cradle and punched in a number.

"Who are you calling?"

"My dad."

A frisson of alarm zipped up Justin's spine. "Carly..."

"His voice mail," Carly said. "I just want to hear his voice one more time."

She closed her eyes as she listened. She punched the number two to hear it again. Afterward, she gently replaced the phone in its cradle and leaned against the wall, just as Justin had after his conversation with Carter.

Justin got to his feet to offer her what comfort he could, but she straightened, picked up the phone again, and began to dial numbers, one after the other, listening to the phone ring, or getting the beep-beep-beep of a disconnected line. Tears streamed unheeded down her cheeks.

Justin laid a hand on her shoulder. "Who are you calling now?"

"My ex-boyfriend, Noah."

Why did that bother him? "Are you... Do you still have feelings for him?"

Carly shook her head. "Not like that. We stayed friends afterward, sort of. We just weren't suited to each other." She placed the phone back in its cradle. "That's the last number I know."

Her caramel-colored curls hid her face as she looked down at the floor, at the toes of her striped socks. "You're lucky to have spoken to one of your friends. I would love that. Just to know they're still out there somewhere."

"They could be. Maybe they're traveling like us, unable to answer their phones."

"Maybe," Carly said, but her tone implied she didn't believe it.

"There's something else I need to discuss with you. Why don't we go into the living room and get comfortable. I'll bring you another ice pack for your back and some pain medicine."

"Please get me something different. That stuff you gave me last time knocked me out cold."

He nodded. "Sure." He went out to the wagon and dug through the drugs until he found what he was looking for. He carefully traced his finger under the words on the label as he read it. Medicines were tricky for someone with dyslexia because so many drug names were similar, some only a letter or two apart. He shook the pill out into his palm, and it looked right to him.

Carly was curled up on the couch, and Sam lay next to her, his long legs sprawled straight out. His head was on her lap, and she cooed to him as she scratched his ears. Adoration shone in the wolf's amber eyes.

Justin retrieved the refrozen bag of peas and wrapped it in a dish towel. Carly leaned up so he could slip it behind her back. He handed her a Coke he had found in the garage. Carly used it to take the pill and sipped slowly, savoring each taste as though she realized it might be the last Coke she ever had.

Justin sat on the recliner and angled his body to face her. "Carly, the man who attacked you didn't have a fever."

Carly blinked. "He was one of the Infected."

"It appears some people survive the Infection, but their minds are permanently changed by the fever. My friend Carter's wife is one of them."

"No one survived once they got the Infection," Carly said slowly.

"It turns out that's not true."

She shook her head. "But, everybody... My parents..." Guilt twisted her features. "Did I do something wrong?"

He scooted forward so he could take her hand into his own. Carly blinked hard, as though she was struggling not to cry, and his heart ached for her. "No, honey. Most people didn't survive it. There was nothing you could have done. But it seems there are a few who did survive it. So we need to be cautious. Stay together. No more wandering off."

Carly's face pinked. "I'm really sorry about that."

He waved his hand. "It's an easy mistake to make, but we have to learn from it, okay? Keep Sam with you at all times."

She nodded. "No more wandering off. I promise."

Carly went out to the garage and turned on the light. There was a car parked inside with a dead man in the driver's seat. Carly looked away and scanned the walls for the item she wanted. She found it hanging on a peg near the garage door. Walking around the back of the car, she saw rags stuffed into the tailpipe. She shivered. She'd seen that in a movie once. They said it was a peaceful and painless way to go. She couldn't help but wonder if the man had been immune like Carly and Justin, unable to cope with a world in which he seemed to be the last living, sane person.

She took down the hammer and fished a nail out of the clear plastic drawer of the organizer on top of the tool bench. Carly laid the penny she had found in the gravel by the station on the table and positioned the nail near the top edge of the coin. She whacked the nail a few times until it had pierced through the penny, then laid down the hammer and pulled the nail out. She used the hammer to tap down the rough edges of the hole. Perfect.

Carly reached behind her neck and unfastened the chain she wore. On it was her father's ring and her apartment key, and she strung the coin on it, too.

She heard Justin call her name. "Coming!" she yelled and re-fastened the chain around her neck and dropped it under the collar of her T-shirt.

Carly agreed to stay the extra two days Justin had hoped for after he bribed her with the offer of more french fries. They spent the next afternoon collecting canned goods and other supplies from the other houses. At the last one, Justin went in by himself. He didn't offer a reason, but she could guess what it was. She wondered what sort of life he had led before the Crisis that the stench of death didn't bother him. Each of the houses had been well stocked with food, and the wagon was stuffed.

Carly took one last long, leisurely, hot shower the next morning. She was going to miss that. They headed out down the highway, with Sam trotting at Carly's side and Shadowfax loping along behind them.

It was a little more than seventy miles to the next town, Carcross, and luckily for them, they were on a downhill slope. Their route would skirt the edge of a huge lake, and Justin estimated it would take them a few days to get there. It would be much faster to take a boat down the lake, but they didn't encounter any large enough to hold Shadowfax. Carly was grateful Justin didn't say anything about the horse slowing them down.

Justin was again awed by the views, and Carly was able to see them anew through his eyes. It was majestic—the high, jagged mountains reflecting off the mirrored surface of the lake under the huge bowl of a bright summer sky. Though he'd seen the views on the drive into Alaska, he was still staggered by the beauty of this land. It reminded Carly once again this was the last time she was likely to see it, and Justin, as perceptive as always, asked if she wanted to stop for a rest. She shook her head.

They passed a few vacation and fishing cabins, and when a man ran out of one of them, waving his hands, Carly was startled enough to almost fall off her bike.

Sam whirled to face the stranger and jumped in front of Carly, his front paws planted far apart as he crouched to spring if necessary. His teeth were bared in a snarl, and the hair on his neck and upper back stood up. The man froze in his tracks and didn't try to come any closer.

Justin drew his pistol as soon as he had seen the man emerge from the house. He dismounted from his bike and approached with the gun held out in front of him, one hand around the butt and trigger, the other below to steady his aim. "What do you want?"

The man slowly raised his hands. "I just wanted to see if I could trade with you folks. You're the first people we've seen in months."

Carly looked past him at the windows and saw two frightened faces peering out from between the curtains. It was a woman and a small child. She couldn't tell if the child was a girl or boy.

"What have you got to trade?" Justin asked.

The man had a hint of pride in his voice when he replied. "Gold. I have gold. I bought it when the economy started going bad."

Justin shook his head. "It's worthless. The department store jewelry counters are full of it, and no one is even bothering to loot it. You would have been smarter to buy a few cases of whiskey and ammunition instead."

The man looked startled and discomforted by Justin's words. "But... I thought... The guy on the radio said..."

Justin lowered his gun and put it back in his holster. Sam took his cue from Justin and ceased his snarling, though he remained alert, his head dropped low with a piercing amber stare fixed on the stranger.

Justin's voice was gentler as he spoke. "Do you have anything else? Medicines? Guns?"

The man shook his head. "I was hoping I could trade with you to get some food."

"You're not from around here, are you?"

"No. We're from Jersey, visiting my wife's sister in Skagway. We came out here when the Crisis hit so we wouldn't be around the sick people..." He lowered his voice. "I'm begging you, mister. My wife and kid... we don't have enough food. I've been trying to catch fish, but I'm not very good at it. Please. Take anything we've got. Anything."

Justin sighed. Carly could see the sympathy in his eyes, but when he spoke, his words were firm. "You don't have anything we want. There's a place with power and running water a few miles back that way. You can get refitted there. I'd head south, if I were you. Come on, Carly."

"But you've got plenty in that wagon!" The man sounded indignant.

Justin put his hand on his gun. "We've got enough for us. Not to feed everyone we meet along the way."

Carly couldn't take her eyes off of the child's tiny face with its enormous, scared eyes. "Justin, maybe we could—"

"No."

"What about the horse? That's just another mouth for you to feed, right? I'll give you all of my gold and..." He snapped his fingers. "Clothes. My wife has lots of clothes that would fit your girlfriend. And I think we may have a bottle of aspirin. I'll give you that too."

"The horse isn't for sale." Justin mounted his bike. "Come on, Carly."

"Please!" The man surged toward Carly, whom he correctly perceived as being the more sympathetic of the two, but Sam snarled again. The man recoiled, and Carly could no longer look at his face and that desperate, pleading expression. She climbed back on her bike and followed Justin down the road. The man shouted after them, naming all of his valuables. Did he really think they would want a Blu-ray player or a dead iPhone? Carly pedaled faster, until she could no longer hear his voice.

"You're angry at me," Justin said, and he sounded resigned to it.

"No... more angry at the situation." Carly kept her eyes fixed to the road. "I know you made the right decision. We can't feed everyone we come upon while we're on the road. It just hurt to look at that little kid and refuse to help."

"Not everyone is suited for survival in this new world. It's harsh and cold, but it's the truth. That man's sitting there, waiting for rescue instead of trying to adapt and figure out a way to survive."

"Without you, I'd be in his same condition."

Justin shook his head. "No, I don't think you would."

Carly didn't argue, but she didn't think he was right. Without Justin she'd still be in Juneau, trying to survive on scavenged food, and she probably would have frozen to death or burned down the building around herself when she tried to put in a heater come winter. She would still be wandering around in a dazed state of numb shock, expecting the world would go back to normal any day.

He was right that some people were more prepared to survive than others. He came into the situation equipped with more skills than most people. "Justin, can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"I mean, I know you had to keep everything secret back in the old days, but I don't think that's still true now. I'm wondering how you learned all this stuff about survival. It's not just the things you know, it's a mind-set. What was The Unit? Did my dad know all of this stuff, too?"

Justin was silent for a long moment. "He did. We all received the same kind of training. Wilderness survival. Psychology. Physical conditioning and hand-to-hand combat. Tactics. Languages. We learned how to blend in, how to hide in plain sight. Medical training. Five years of training for five years of service."

"What did you do?"

Justin hesitated for a moment before he answered, and she wondered if it was from force of habit or because he didn't want her to know. "Many things. Reconnaissance. Spying. Assisting resistance groups. Targeted military strikes. Rescues."

"So, you were like a SEAL team?"

"In a way. We did the jobs they didn't want to give to a SEAL team. We were a shadow unit, not even officially acknowledged by the U.S. military."

"Why did you just serve for five years?"

Justin took a hand off the handlebars and rubbed his chin. "I... uh... Stress, I suppose. They thought we would burn out. And they were right. Some of us didn't even make it the full five years. Others stayed on after their term of service was up to become instructors, like your dad."

"He must have seen some awful things. My dad, I mean. Because when he had the fever—" She couldn't go on. "I think you must have seen some awful things, too."

"I have." He didn't elaborate, and his expression was carefully impassive. She knew better than to ask.

"But it made you better able to survive in this new world. You can do things other people can't."

He cursed softly. "That's not always a good thing, Carly." That impassive expression had become grim. She saw a muscle twitch in his cheek.

"You're not a bad person, Justin. Just one who's strong."

"What if I told you I was a bad person, once?" Justin's voice was low; it was almost lost in the whirring of their tire spokes.

Carly thought about it. "I'd say you're even more amazing for being able to change. Most can't, you know. Most bad people justify their actions, at least to themselves. I bet if you took a poll, very, very few people would say they're bad. They're good people with bad circumstances, they'd say. And even those who seek forgiveness in religion or in the secular world don't always manage to change themselves. That takes a massive amount of effort. Not many are able to accomplish it because it's just too hard, or maybe they didn't really want to change in the first place. They just wanted justification."

Justin laughed softly. "And you say you're not smart."

Carly shrugged. "I read it in a book somewhere. But I know you're not a bad person. A bad person would have hurt me and certainly wouldn't have brought me along, or let me keep Shadowfax. A bad person would have hurt that man back there and taken what little he did have. But you're able to be strong when you have to be. I would have given in and shared some of our supplies with that family. I'd be thinking with my heart, not with my head. But you? I bet you never think with just your heart."

"I have, a few times," Justin said, and that muscle in his cheek twitched again. "It usually didn't end well."

"Why did you join the army?"

His hands tightened on his handlebars until the knuckles were white. "I didn't have many options in life, Carly. I bounced around from foster home to foster home. I barely graduated high school and didn't have a chance in hell of going to college. The day I turned eighteen, my foster mother handed me a duffel bag with my belongings, gave me twenty dollars, and showed me the door. A few months later, I passed a recruiting station, and it seemed like a good idea."

"What did you do for those few months before you went into the army?"

"Things I don't want to talk about," Justin said bluntly.

"Okay." Carly had things she didn't want to talk about either.

"My recruiter happened to know Lewis, who was one of the commanders of The Unit at one time. He thought I seemed like a good candidate, and I was, but not for the right reasons. Ironically, it was The Unit that straightened me out."

"What did you do after you retired?"

"Wandered around, for the most part. I've got a good pension. Had a good pension, that is. So I just traveled where the road took me."

"Were you looking for something?"

Justin seemed startled by the question. He ran a hand through his hair and rubbed the back of his neck. "I never thought of it that way, but yeah, I think I was. I don't know what that might have been, though."

She was pretty sure she knew what it was. "A home."

Justin stared at her.

"You never had one, it sounds like," Carly explained.

"I owned a house in Chicago."

Carly shook her head. "That's not a home. A home is where people love you." It made her sad that he didn't know the difference.

"Tell me about yours."

She almost laughed at how he switched the focus to her, moving away from a topic he wasn't comfortable exploring, but she played along. "My home? You were there."

"Yes, but tell me what it was like before."

This was hard. Talking about it brought a lump to Carly's throat and made her voice husky. "I missed out on a lot because my dad was gone so much when I was little, but once he came home... I was the luckiest kid in the world when it came to my parents. My mom was sweet and kind, and she had this subtle sense of humor that always caught you by surprise. My dad was strict, but he was very loving, and he made sure I understood why we had the rules we did. I'm not going to say I was always obedient, and there were a few times during my teenage years that I caused my parents some grief, but they always loved me. When I was nineteen, I decided to get my own apartment on the third floor. I think, in a way, it was like college. Moving out and putting a toe in the waters of adulthood in a safe environment. I had my independence, but I knew they were right downstairs if I needed something."

"Tell me about the DVD you have in your bag. Tell me what it means to you."

Carly tried not to cry, but the tears spilled out anyway. She wasn't a confident enough bicyclist to let go of the handlebars long enough to wipe them away. She told him about watching the world die on cable news and how her father had poured her a drink. As she spoke, she realized it was the first time her father had ever talked to her as an equal, not as his little girl. Had he somehow known? Or had he seen these events as the true dividing line between childhood and adulthood for her?

Carly described watching the movies with him and how it had been a temporary respite from the horror and fear, a few last stolen moments with her father and one last happy memory. She scrubbed her wet cheeks against her shoulders. "What about your parents, Justin? What happened to them?"

"I don't know. I don't have any memories of them. From my social services file, I know I was abandoned at about the age of three at a fire station. They caught my mother and me on video from the bank across the street. She brought me up to the front of the station and sat me down on the retaining wall of a flower bed near the door. She gave me a toy, an Incredible Hulk action figure, and then just walked away. They found a note pinned to my shirt that gave my first name and date of birth, and that was all."

It was hard to speak around the lump in her throat. Her voice was unsteady. "She must have been in desperate circumstances to give you up like that."

"Or she was just sick of having to take care of a baby." There was bitterness in his tone.

Carly's heart ached for him and she wished there was something she could do to banish the ghost of that pain. "Justin, think about it, she took you somewhere she knew you would be safe, where you would be found quickly. If she didn't care about you, she would have abandoned you in an alley somewhere, or sold you, or even killed you."

"Yeah." Justin didn't look at her.

"What happened next? Did you go straight into foster care?"

"No, the records say I stayed with one of the firefighters for a few years while they searched for my mother. That's how I got my last name. The Thatchers wanted to adopt me, but the authorities wouldn't allow it unless they located my mother and secured her permission. They never found her, so I went into the system."

"Do you have any memories of them?"

"I have an early memory of a woman singing to me. That's all. I don't know if it's my real mother or the firefighter's wife, Martha."

"Why did they take you away from the Thatchers?"

"Age, and probably the fact that they'd never had children of their own. When they took me in, Jack Thatcher was a few months from retirement. The authorities decided they were too old and inexperienced to care for an active toddler and wouldn't approve them to be my foster parents, either."

"That's terrible!" What sort of system would think it was better for a baby to be taken away from people who loved him and given to strangers?

"That's bureaucracy." That hint of bitterness was back in his tone.

Carly was quiet for a long moment as she wondered what it must have been like for a little boy to lose his mother and then the people who had lovingly cared for him for several years. That had to leave some scars. "How many families did you live with?"

"Eleven." He hid behind that impassive expression again.

"Wow, Justin, that's almost one a year." Carly had always known she was a lucky girl to have such wonderful parents and such a happy home life. Half of her friends had divorced parents and some of them were tugged back and forth in their parents' bitter squabbling. But Justin's story was far, far worse than that.

"I wasn't the easiest kid to take care of. I was rebellious, always getting into fights."

"Were any of your foster families good to you?" She hoped for at least some bright spot in what seemed like a very bleak and unhappy childhood.

His jaw tightened. "Generally, indifferent. I had one family who..." He cursed under his breath. "They were the Altons—Steve and Cindy. That was the biggest mistake of my life, and I always wonder how things might have turned out if I had accepted what they offered me. But I wasn't used to someone trying to reach out to me. Cindy tried. God how she tried, but I rejected every overture. I was cruel to her."

"After all you'd been through ..."

That muscle in his cheek was twitching again. "My psychology classes later taught me it was a trust issue. I was testing the limits, trying to determine her sincerity by being as awful as I could be to see if she'd still treat me the same, if she'd still care about me. Eventually, I wore her down. I was fighting with her other foster kids, always getting into trouble, and lashing out at everyone. One day a social worker showed up, and I was taken to a group home for troubled kids. I never saw the Altons again."

Carly bit the inside of her lip so hard she tasted the metallic tang of blood.

"I always thought of tracking them down, to say I was sorry for everything I put them and their family through, but I never did it, and now I'll never be able to."

"It's not your fault, you know."

Justin chuckled. "Oh, Carly, you're so sweet. But it was my fault. I have to own my actions. I was old enough to know right from wrong, and I chose wrong."

"You were just a kid. A kid who'd had a horribly hard life." Has he been carrying this burden all these years? Has he been hating himself for something he did when he was a child, a lonely, scared little boy who'd never had anyone in his life that didn't abandon him?

"And not every kid who has a hard life makes the kind of decisions I did. I can't make excuses, Carly. I made my choices."

"You're not just talking about the Altons, are you?"

"No."

Carly sighed. "Everything that happens in our lives shapes us into who we are. I made mistakes, too, Justin, but looking back on them, I realize I wouldn't be who I was today if I'd made different choices. Right or wrong, good or bad, we're the product of all of those decisions. You wouldn't be the Justin who was selected to be in The Unit, and you wouldn't have learned all of this survival stuff, and you wouldn't be the Justin I know now."

"Maybe I'd be a better one."

"Better in what way? If you'd lived a nice, middle-class life with the Altons, would you have been a tax accountant? You never would have met me, that's for sure, since you wouldn't have gone into the army, and you wouldn't have been wandering around Alaska, headed to a motorcycle rally. Would the other Justin have given away some of our supplies because he was thinking with his heart, not with his head? Would the other Justin have had the stomach to go into those buildings where the dead were to collect the supplies we need in the first place?"

Justin rubbed the back of his neck again. "I see your point."

"So what's the point of living with regret? Let's say you had tracked the Altons down and apologized to them. Would it have changed anything? Would it have repaired any of the pain in the past?"

"You might want to practice what you preach, sister," Justin said, but his voice was mild, lightly teasing. "I can see you have your own regrets you carry with you."

Carly touched her father's ring—the bump it made below her T-shirt. "I'm carrying them in my heart, not my head. I can't help what my heart feels. It doesn't use logic. But my brain knows some of the things I regret couldn't have been changed. You, on the other hand, have them stuck in your head but aren't using logic. You know all that psychology stuff. Use it on yourself. You know why you acted as you did, so why not accept it as a lesson learned, the path your life had to take to lead you to where you are now, and let it go?"

"Easier said than done."

"Sure. It's a process. But you've got to want to do it. Maybe you're having too much fun beating yourself up over it to let it go."

Justin was startled again. He stared at her, and his mouth hung open slightly.

Carly shrugged. "Some people like to wallow in guilt. I don't think you're one of them, but you kind of seem like you do it on occasion." She glanced over at him and narrowed her eyes. "Did you use any of that psychology stuff on me when we first met?"

"Yes." Justin admitted it without a qualm. "You weren't thinking clearly, Carly, and I had to get you out of that apartment. So, yes, I tricked you a little and manipulated your emotions. If that upsets you, I'm sorry, but I don't regret doing what needed to be done in order to shake you out of your state of shock."

"I'm not mad about it. I understand what you mean about me not thinking clearly. And you sure weren't doing it for your own selfish benefit or anything like that. You were doing it to help me."

"I picked your locks, and I... uh... I turned off your water." He actually blushed a little at this confession.

Carly gave a bark of surprised laughter. "Tricksy hobbit!"

"That white pipe I took off to show you there wasn't any water in it? That was your sink drain."

Carly laughed so hard she had to coast her bike to a stop or risk falling off. "You're kidding!"

"Jesus, Carly, didn't you ever look at what pipe goes to what?"

"No. To tell you the truth, I don't think I'd ever looked at any of the plumbing under the sink."

"Too busy alphabetizing your cleaning bottles?"

"You're just jealous of my organizational skills." Carly remounted her bike and began to pedal again. Maybe she was fooling herself but biking for long stretches of time seemed to be getting easier. Her calves weren't even sore yet.

"‘Jealous of,' no. Disturbed by, slightly." Justin tossed a grin at her.

Carly stuck her tongue out at him, and he chuckled.

For a while, they pedaled in silence, and then apropos of nothing, Justin said, "Tell me about Noah."

"What about him?"

Justin gave a small shrug. "The usual. How long you were together. How you met. That sort of thing."

Odd for him to be interested,Carly thought. "He was a friend of a friend. I'd been introduced to him a couple of times, but I didn't know him all that well. Then, one day, he sent a flirty text to my phone. I messaged back, just a funny little quip or something, and we messaged back and forth for a few minutes. He asked me something about my brother, and I said I didn't have a brother. At that point we figured out he'd thought he'd been talking to another girl. He called me to apologize, and we chatted for a bit, and that's when he asked me out. We dated for about two years."

Justin waited for a moment. "That's it? That's all you're going to tell me?"

"What is it you want to know?"

"Were you... serious?"

Carly looked at him blankly. "What do you mean? I mean, we talked about getting married, but it was just talk. He never proposed, and I didn't have a ring or anything."

"Did he live with you?" Justin's voice was casual. He reached down to the frame of his bike and plucked his water bottle out of its carrier.

"With my dad two floors down? He would have gone after Noah with a shotgun."

"Oh." Justin squirted some water into his mouth and offered the bottle to her, but Carly didn't think she could manage to control the bike with only one hand. She shook her head. She could tell he was looking for a way to phrase something, and she sighed.

"Do you want to know if we slept together?"

"I... er... I..."

Carly thought she detected a hint of a blush on his cheekbones, and she was enchanted. "Yes, we did. Does that reduce the number of cans of ravioli you'll be able to sell me for?"

Justin laughed, but it was a little strained. "Sorry. I was just curious."

"Why didn't you just ask?"

Justin opened his mouth to say something and then closed it again.

"What about you?"

He seemed taken aback. "Me?"

"Well, if we're going to talk about my sexual experiences, shouldn't yours be open for discussion, too?"

Justin rubbed the back of his neck. "What do you want to know?"

"How old were you when you first did it?"

"Fifteen."

"I'll bet you've had scads of experience," Carly said. "Traveling around the world, a woman in every port."

"You're thinking of sailors."

Carly shrugged. "Same difference. Well?"

"Not as much as you might think."

"Really? Why?"

Justin grinned. "I'm picky."

"You see how picky I am about my shoes, and they only go on my feet," Carly quoted, and Justin laughed.

"Speaking of shoes, we need to stop and get you another pair," Justin said. "You really shouldn't be wearing sandals to ride a bike."

"I like these shoes," Carly said in protest. They were her favorite pair, strappy white leather with pink flowers stitched across the instep. "They're very comfortable."

"But not very safe. What if your toe got caught in the chain?"

"That can happen?" Carly looked down in alarm at the gears of her bike and nearly ran off the road into the ditch. She overcorrected and ended up sprawled gracelessly in a bush. Sam let out a sharp yip and bounded over. He sniffed Carly and bumped her with his head as though urging her to get up.

Justin hopped off his own bike and helped Carly to her feet. "Are you hurt?"

"Only my pride," she muttered. He helped her to her feet, and they froze for an instant with his hands resting on her upper arms. The tension grew. Carly bit her lip, and Justin's gaze lingered on it for a moment. He seemed about to say something, but he turned and walked to the back of the wagon to begin unloading their camping gear. She caught herself eyeing the back of him as he walked away and forced herself to look away.

"We'll stop here for the night." He didn't look at her as he said it.

"I'm sorry," Carly whispered. Shadowfax lumbered up to her and snuffled at Carly's ear, and Carly hid her face against the horse's neck. She hated that Justin was mad at her, but she guessed she had been kind of dumb to crash her bike like that.