Page 33 of Wildflowers

“You know you can talk to me about anything, right?” I say. “We could talk about friends you had at school or things you used to do at home, or anything really.”

She blinks big eyes at me. “I just did talk to you.”

“Yeah. Cool.”

The child gives me a look of such dubiousness. Never before have my inadequacies been so eloquently expressed without words. I am doing amazing at this parenting thing. Just ask me.

Dean doesn’t return for half an hour or so. And when he does, there’s a light sheen of sweat on his skin. His running around searching towns after he got shot yesterday is perhaps not the best idea. But suggesting he take it easy would be a waste of time. The man thinks he’s made of steel.

“What do you think?” I ask, handing him a water bottle.

He downs a mouthful and then says, “I think you’re not the only one who wants this place.”

“Leon and I got here Tuesday from Boise,” says Natalia, and her husband gives her hand an affectionate squeeze. The way they act like newlyweds is sweet. Lots of affectionate looks and handholding. It’s what I imagine love would be. And the size of the rock on her finger doesn’t hurt none. “My first husband brought me here once on a fishing trip. I thought it might be a nice quiet corner of the world to see out our days in.”

They’re seated on the porch of the midcentury stone house they’ve settled into, while Dean and I stand a cautious distance away on the grass. None of us seem sick. No signs of fever or congestion or coughing. But it won’t hurt to be careful and take things slow.

The house sits a block up from the town square and has azaleas blooming by the front steps. Both Natalia and Leon are in their seventies, at a guess. He’s a retired police detective, and she worked as a bookkeeper. Her long braid is silver and the same goes for his short afro and beard. Leon has a shotgun within reach and isn’t hiding it. Which probably balances out whatever’s on Dean.

“How did you get that bruise on your face?” asks Natalia.

“It came care of some not-so-nice people we encountered out on the road the other day,” I answer. “Dean dealt with them. They won’t be bothering anyone again.”

Natalia nods. “Good.”

“I could do without any more company,” announces Leon. “But I suppose to stay here, we’re going to need help disposing of the bodies. And no doubt other jobs will arise.”

Dean nods. “Be happy to help, sir.”

“You look big enough to be useful. Let me guess…Marine?”

“That’s right.”

“Knew there was a reason I didn’t shoot you on sight,” says Leon pleasantly.

Natalia watches Sophie do cartwheels on the grass with a smile. “How did you all survive?”

Dean keeps his mouth closed. But a muscle shifts in his jaw. Yeah. Telling people he kidnapped and caged me probably isn’t the best idea. Not at the start. Not if we all want to stay. And what I do know about Dean for sure is that he would die for Sophie and me. Which is damn useful in an apocalypse.

“We were neighbors,” I say. “Dean had a friend in government circles who gave him warning last week. He told me I’d probably die horribly if I didn’t shelter in place with him. Then Sophie found us when we stopped in her town on Tuesday.” And it’s all sort of the truth. Sort of. Just leaving outthe little fact that I was in a cage when he told me he was saving my life.

“She was alone?” asks Natalia.

I nod.

Leon sighs. “Poor child.”

“How about you two?” I ask.

“I didn’t even know it was happening,” says Leon. “Imagine my shock when I go to make my usual once-a-month grocery trip into town and find everyone has died.”

“Apart from me.” Natalia’s smile is hesitant. “He found me sipping warm sweet tea outside an ice-cream shop. I didn’t know what to do with myself. My daughter and her husband and all their three children caught the virus and died. Those poor sweet babies. I tended to all of them, but never had so much as a sniffle.”

My eyebrows reach for the sky. “You mean you’re immune? But you didn’t pass it on to Leon, so…”

“So, no Typhoid Mary,” says Dean. “That is welcome news.”

“I wasn’t sure who I should tell,” says Natalia. “If my blood could be used for a cure or what. But by the time I tried to call the government and the hospitals, there was no one left alive to answer. It all happened so quickly. My daughter died first, and I couldn’t…I couldn’t just…”

---