Chapter Four

Chapter Four

Elk Springs

ZACH

I bar the door and grab my rifle, adrenaline coursing hot through my veins. Probably that sick man from last night. I should have known he’d be back. These encounters are always terrifying and unpredictable. It’s like being in an earthquake. You never know how long it will last and how bad it will get—a singular point in time where your life is at risk.

Peeking through the porthole, I spot a lone guy wandering into town. Hmm. Not the guy from last night, and he doesn’t look sick. That calms my nerves a bit. But a few things are odd about him.

First, he’s not holding any weapons. That’s extremely unusual. Second, he’s alone. Every encounter with looters and thugs has always been three or more. Safety in numbers and all that. And they’re usually doing some poorly executed tactical drills, jumping behind cover, and yelling “clear” a lot. Third—and this is by far the most interesting—he looks…normal. Like the Great Collapse has had no impact on him.

Most people I encounter are somewhere on the spectrum, from dirty and ragged to full-on mountain man. But this guy looks clean-cut, like he’s had a recent shave and a real haircut. His dark hair is clipper short on the sides, the top longer and kind of messy. He’s about five foot ten and young. I’d guess around my age, maybe a bit older, eighteen or nineteen. He’s muscular but not too bulky, his skin medium olive. And he’s dressed all in black, wearing boots, cargo pants, and a V-neck T-shirt.

He doesn’t have that desperate look everybody has now. The look you get after living on your own for a year, not knowing where your next meal is coming from. Or if you do, you’re worried somebody will take it.

Usually, I’d be firing off warning shots and yelling at him to clear out of town by now. But instead, I watch him and wait. Curiosity replaces my apprehension. His confident and fluid movements captivate me. He’s trying to be stealthy. It’s kind of funny to watch, actually. Especially after the way he clattered through the cans on the way into town.

There’s a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach. A little fluttering.

Oh crap.

I forgot this feeling existed. This doesn’t happen anymore. Nowadays, it’s survival or nothing—zero guy distractions. But this guy is fricking cute.

He continues down the road, peeking into each shop, then approaches a 4Runner parked on the street. He tests the doors, and they open. But he’s wasting his time. It has no keys, a dead battery, and an empty gas tank. That’s true of every car for miles.

Well, there’s that one car at the junkyard. It’s ever-present in my mind. My escape hatch to Seattle, where I used to live with my family, where I left my ex-boyfriend and first love, Felix. I don’t even know if they are dead or alive. They must all be dead. Everyone I’ve ever known or loved is dead.

Cute Guy must have figured out the car was useless because he exits it and continues on. As he approaches the general store, I panic. He’ll find Wilson.

Damn it, Zach.

The defense system doesn’t work if I don’t use it. If I set it off now, there’s a good chance I’ll hit him.

Without taking time to think things through, I open the bank door and run out with my rifle.

I shout across the street, “Hey! Don’t move or I’ll shoot!”

*

AIDEN

A voice calls out behind me, and I swing around fast. A guy is pointing a rifle right at me. That’s a sight you never want to see. My hands shoot skyward. This isn’t my day.

He has a haggard look about him. Long and frazzled light-brown hair goes almost down to his shoulders. It’s matted into clumps, like he’s not combed it in months, and he’s got a wispy, unkempt beard. A few patches of pale, freckled skin show through what’s probably weeks of dirt covering his body.

It’s hard to tell through his grizzled exterior, but he looks young.

He’s shorter than me, around five foot eight. I’ve got thirty pounds of muscle on him, easy. If it came to it, I could take him. But I hope it doesn’t. Violence is always my last resort and always nonlethal. There’s enough death around already.

This calculation is required for each new person I come across. And I hate that. I used to enjoy meeting new people and could strike up a conversation with a total stranger. Now, I assume all strangers are trying to kill me. Everyone’s a murderer until proven otherwise. So, let’s see what this guy is.

“Don’t mean any harm. Just passing through.” I stretch my hands up farther.

His eyes narrow, but he says nothing. He stares at me like he’s not sure what to do next. His hands quiver, making the barrel of the rifle shake slightly. Maybe he’s new to this whole “holding a person at gunpoint” thing.

I clear my throat. It’s your move, dude.

“Well—uh—keep passing through, then.” He points his rifle down the street as if to show me where to go. Based on his voice, he’s definitely young. And definitely scared.

“Look, some guys ambushed me.” I wave toward the road I came in on. “I lost my car and all my supplies. Can’t make it much farther with what I’ve got.”

“Well, you won’t find anything for miles. Everything’s picked over. Including the cars.” He nods toward the 4Runner I just checked.

I keep my face calm, but my insides churn. This is bad. It’s hard to say how long I’ll last if I leave this town with nothing.

But this guy doesn’t strike me as a killer. I could try taking his gun, but a nervous trigger finger mixed with a loaded weapon is a recipe for getting shot. He came out here for a reason and hasn’t killed me yet, so he must want something.

“Any chance I can trade for some of your supplies? Got nothing of value, but I can work off anything I take. I’m handy with tools, and I’m pretty strong.” I flex my bicep and point to it.

He makes a snorting laugh and rolls his eyes. But quickly refocuses and steadies the gun. “Keep those hands up.”

But that’s good. For a second there, he showed a sense of humor. I can work with that. I need to make him feel at ease and trust me.

“You’re the boss here,” I say.

“Um—turn around. Do you have any weapons?”

“Nope, no weapons.” I do a slow three-sixty, keeping my eyes on his gun the whole time.

“Why?”

“Why what?” I ask.

“Why no weapons? Seems kinda stupid walking around without any.”

I laugh. “Sorry to disappoint you. But it’s not by choice. I had to ditch my car in a hurry. Like I said, I lost everything.”

He grips the rifle tighter. “Turn out your pockets. Slowly.”

Man, this guy is really on edge. Gotta figure out how to calm him down. I reach into all my pockets and turn them out. “See? Nothing.”

“Let me see in that backpack.”

Shit. The last thing I want is him snooping around in my backpack. I take it off, unzip it, and show him the inside. Please don’t notice the box.

He leans in to look. “What’s in the box?”

Fuck.

“Just medicine.” I keep my voice steady, fighting back rising panic.

“What kind of medicine?”

“Antibiotics,” I lie.

“Show me.”

Deep breath, Aiden. It’ll be okay. I remove the box with the utmost care and crack open the lid. Sunlight glints against the three vials of pale-green liquid packed tightly in padding. I figure he’s only looking for weapons. But if he tries something stupid, like trying to take them, that would get ugly, fast. My entire body tenses, expecting the worst.

But all he does is nod and take a step back. I let out a deep breath and put the box away.

Shit, that was close.

“No hidden weapons?” he asks.

“Nope.”

“Then drop your pants.”

I bark out a laugh. “Excuse me?”

“I said drop ’em.” He gestures with his gun. “Better not see any guns or knives strapped to your legs.”

Wow. He’s not kidding. “Like I said, you’re the boss.” I unbutton my pants and lower them to my ankles. Sure glad I wear underwear. A breeze tickles the hairs of my exposed legs, giving me goosebumps.

“See? No weapons,” I say. “Only one place you haven’t checked.” I slather that last bit in sarcasm, trying to crack through his nerves with some humor.

He jerks his head back, eyebrows raised as if he can’t believe what I said. We both stand frozen for a moment. Did I miscalculate?

“Not on the first date,” he says in absolute deadpan.

He lets out a short laugh, and then I do, too, which cuts the tension.

“Alright, pull ’em back up.”

As I do so, he lowers his gun, and his stance relaxes.

Whew.

“So, where did you say you were headed?” he asks.

His tone is noticeably calmer. Almost friendly. The sudden change is a little startling.

“Seattle. I’m looking for family. I was on the East Coast when all this shit went down.”

Family is not why I’m going there, of course. But keeping my answers vague and close to the truth makes it easier not to get caught in a lie.

But when I mention Seattle, his eyes go wide. “I’m from Seattle,” he blurts out. “I’m admitted to University of Washington—uh—I mean, I was admitted.”

Cool. Another way to win him over. He’ll think we’re best friends in no time.

“Yeah. U-Dub is great,” I lie. Never been there. Yet. But that’s exactly where I’m headed. UW Medical Center. “So, how’d you end up here?” I gesture around the small main street.

“You mean ass-end-of-nowhere, Montana?”

We both laugh.

“Yeah, that.”

“I was visiting my uncle. But he’s dead now.” He says it so matter-of-factly. But there’s sadness in his eyes.

“Where’s everybody else in town?”

His eyes shift downward, but he says nothing. That’s all the answer I need. It’s only him.

I nod. “I can relate. It’s tough.”

“Yeah, it sucks.”

“How have you survived out here on your own? With the Infected and all,” I ask.

“The Infected? Oh, you mean the sick ones?”

“Yeah.” I nod. “That’s what I call them.”

“Being in the middle of nowhere has helped. Off the radar. The rest is being resourceful. And lucky.”

Surviving alone is no simple feat, and it’s impressive he’s made it this long. But he’s right about being lucky. And it’s hard to say how long that luck will last.

He’s getting more comfortable with me. With his gun lowered and guard down, this would be the time to act. And I almost do it. But something holds me back. There’s something about this guy. Out on the road, I’ve learned to judge character quickly. Not everybody is ruthless. There are good people out there. If I can, I’d rather work with him instead of against him. And to be honest, some company doesn’t sound like the worst thing. It’s been weeks since I’ve talked to a soul. I’d guess it’s been longer for him.

“My name’s Aiden.”

“I’m Zach.”

Aiden. Zach. A to Z. Mnemonics help me remember names.

“We’ve got the whole alphabet covered.” Zach chuckles.

I snort out a laugh, more from surprise than anything. Great minds think alike, I guess.

“So, was that true about the cars?” I ask. “Nothing for miles?”

“Yep. Checked them all out myself. No gas. Looters took care of that long ago. But none of them run, anyway. No keys and dead batteries.”

I let out a sigh. “So whatcha think? Trade supplies for labor?”

“Look, you seem like a good guy.” His eyes soften. There’s kindness there, and it’s a bit disarming. “I’ll share some supplies. I’ll figure out how you can pay me back. Maybe some things around town you can help with.”

The tension in my body releases. If he turned me away, I don’t like to think about what I’d have to do. He must understand that too. He seems smart.

He starts to turn around but then faces me again quickly, gun slightly raised. “But don’t try anything. I’ve got my eye on you.” He’s trying to sound tough, but it comes across more as scared. I nod solemnly, but inside I laugh a little.

With that, he heads to a building with the words Big Sky Bank carved into the granite facade and gestures for me to follow. “Come on.”

“Thanks,” I say. “You’re a lifesaver.”

Zach glances back. “Don’t make me regret it.”