rough hills closer to me–was beginning to take shape on the horizon. It had an unusual, distinctive shape. Melanie watched it grow as we traveled, pretending indifference to it.
Why did she pretend not to care when she so obviously did? I was disturbed by her strength when I tried to find out. I couldn't see any way around the old blank wall. It felt thicker than usual, though I'd thought it was almost gone.
I tried to ignore her, not wanting to think about that–that she was growing stronger. I watched the peak instead, tracing its shape against the pale, hot sky. There was something familiar about it. Something I was sure I recognized, even as I was positive that neither of us had been here before.
Almost as if she was trying to distract me, Melanie plunged into a vivid memory of Jared, catching me by surprise.
I shiver in my jacket, straining my eyes to see the muted glare of the sun dying behind the thick, bristly trees. I tell myself that it is not as cold as I think it is. My body just isn't used to this.
The hands that are suddenly there on my shoulders do not startle me, though I am afraid of this unfamiliar place and I did not hear his silent approach. Their weight is too familiar.
“You're easy to sneak up on.”
Even now, there is a smile in his voice.
“I saw you coming before you took the first step,” I say without turning. “I have eyes in the back of my head.”
Warm fingers stroke my face from my temple to my chin, dragging fire along my skin.
“You look like a dryad hidden here in the trees,” he whispers in my ear. “One of them. So beautiful that you must be fictional.”
“We should plant more trees around the cabin.”
He chuckles, and the sound makes my eyes close and my lips stretch into a grin.
“Not necessary,” he says. “You always look that way.”
“Says the last man on Earth to the last woman on Earth, on the eve of their separation.” My smile fades as I speak. Smiles cannot last today.
He sighs. His breath on my cheek is warm compared to the chill forest air.
“Jamie might resent that implication.”
“Jamie's still a boy. Please, please keep him safe.”
“I'll make you a deal,” Jared offers. “You keep yourself safe, and I'll do my best. Otherwise, no deal.”
Just a joke, but I can't take it lightly. Once we are apart, there are no guarantees. “No matter what happens,” I insist.
“Nothing's going to happen. Don't worry.” The words are nearly meaningless. A waste of effort. But his voice is worth hearing, no matter the message.
“Okay.”
He pulls me around to face him, and I lean my head against his chest. I don't know what to compare his scent to. It is his own, as unique as the smell of juniper or the desert rain.
“You and I won't lose each other,” he promises. “I will always find you again.” Being Jared, he cannot be completely serious for more than a heartbeat or two. “No matter how well you hide.
I'm unstoppable at hide-and-seek.”
“Will you give me to the count of ten?”
“Without peeking.”
“You're on,” I mumble, trying to disguise the fact that my throat is thick with tears.
“Don't be afraid. You'll be fine. You're strong, you're fast, and you're smart.” He's trying to convince himself, too.
Why am I leaving him? It's such a long shot that Sharon is still human.
But when I saw her face on the news, I was so sure.
It was just a normal raid, one of a thousand. As usual when we felt isolated enough, safe enough, we had the TV on as we cleaned out the pantry and fridge. Just to get the weather forecast; there isn't much entertainment in the dead-boring everything-is-perfect reports that pass for news among the parasites. It was the hair that caught my eye–the flash of deep, almost pink red that I'd only ever seen on one person.
I can still see the look on her face as she peeked at the camera from the corner of one eye. The look that said, I'm trying to be invisible; don't see me. She walked not quite
Why did she pretend not to care when she so obviously did? I was disturbed by her strength when I tried to find out. I couldn't see any way around the old blank wall. It felt thicker than usual, though I'd thought it was almost gone.
I tried to ignore her, not wanting to think about that–that she was growing stronger. I watched the peak instead, tracing its shape against the pale, hot sky. There was something familiar about it. Something I was sure I recognized, even as I was positive that neither of us had been here before.
Almost as if she was trying to distract me, Melanie plunged into a vivid memory of Jared, catching me by surprise.
I shiver in my jacket, straining my eyes to see the muted glare of the sun dying behind the thick, bristly trees. I tell myself that it is not as cold as I think it is. My body just isn't used to this.
The hands that are suddenly there on my shoulders do not startle me, though I am afraid of this unfamiliar place and I did not hear his silent approach. Their weight is too familiar.
“You're easy to sneak up on.”
Even now, there is a smile in his voice.
“I saw you coming before you took the first step,” I say without turning. “I have eyes in the back of my head.”
Warm fingers stroke my face from my temple to my chin, dragging fire along my skin.
“You look like a dryad hidden here in the trees,” he whispers in my ear. “One of them. So beautiful that you must be fictional.”
“We should plant more trees around the cabin.”
He chuckles, and the sound makes my eyes close and my lips stretch into a grin.
“Not necessary,” he says. “You always look that way.”
“Says the last man on Earth to the last woman on Earth, on the eve of their separation.” My smile fades as I speak. Smiles cannot last today.
He sighs. His breath on my cheek is warm compared to the chill forest air.
“Jamie might resent that implication.”
“Jamie's still a boy. Please, please keep him safe.”
“I'll make you a deal,” Jared offers. “You keep yourself safe, and I'll do my best. Otherwise, no deal.”
Just a joke, but I can't take it lightly. Once we are apart, there are no guarantees. “No matter what happens,” I insist.
“Nothing's going to happen. Don't worry.” The words are nearly meaningless. A waste of effort. But his voice is worth hearing, no matter the message.
“Okay.”
He pulls me around to face him, and I lean my head against his chest. I don't know what to compare his scent to. It is his own, as unique as the smell of juniper or the desert rain.
“You and I won't lose each other,” he promises. “I will always find you again.” Being Jared, he cannot be completely serious for more than a heartbeat or two. “No matter how well you hide.
I'm unstoppable at hide-and-seek.”
“Will you give me to the count of ten?”
“Without peeking.”
“You're on,” I mumble, trying to disguise the fact that my throat is thick with tears.
“Don't be afraid. You'll be fine. You're strong, you're fast, and you're smart.” He's trying to convince himself, too.
Why am I leaving him? It's such a long shot that Sharon is still human.
But when I saw her face on the news, I was so sure.
It was just a normal raid, one of a thousand. As usual when we felt isolated enough, safe enough, we had the TV on as we cleaned out the pantry and fridge. Just to get the weather forecast; there isn't much entertainment in the dead-boring everything-is-perfect reports that pass for news among the parasites. It was the hair that caught my eye–the flash of deep, almost pink red that I'd only ever seen on one person.
I can still see the look on her face as she peeked at the camera from the corner of one eye. The look that said, I'm trying to be invisible; don't see me. She walked not quite
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