Page 10 of His to Take

“Before The Fall, this location was known as Chamela, in Jalisco, Mexico. Cressida Labs is a bit north and east of the city. This particular area was green, mountainous, and forested, though much of Mexico and the American southwest was relatively dry and covered with inhospitable deserts,” I explained, pointing to a spot on the map.

“Was there much around this place before? From this map, it seems like it was rather hidden in the more wooded areas, right?”

“Yes. It would have taken quite a while to get to unless they had some sort of airplane runway or a helipad somewhere to move people in and out.”

“I’m not sure how this area fared in the war,” he murmured, his voice thoughtful.

“I didn’t come across many current records of it in my search,” I responded.

“Pacifica might have a few resources at their disposal that we can make use of.”

I tempered my excitement at having access to something like that. I wondered what he could mean. Were there more records I could comb through? More evidence of ancient bridal artifacts? My heart pounded excitedly in my chest and I tried to temper the smile that threatened to light up my face.

“That would be great,” I said.

He popped a big green olive into his mouth. I didn’t realize I was staring at his lips until he started to smirk.

“Enough about work, though. We can come up with a plan together tomorrow morning at your office. I want to know more about you, Naomi,” he coaxed.

I blushed unwittingly. There it was again, the quiet purr of my name on his tongue.

“What about me?”

I couldn’t even imagine what a man like him would want to know about a woman like me.

“What do you like to do in your off time? On the weekends?”

I cleared my throat again. There wasn’t much to know about me other than work. I got up in the morning, brewed a pot of coffee, and went to the office. I ate the nutritionally sound meals prepared in the cafeteria at lunch, took a second meal to my office for dinner, and worked all day until it was time to go home and go to bed. I usually spent the weekends tending tohousehold chores, reading whatever I could find, and resting in preparation for the week to come. There wasn’t much time for anything else, nor were there many recreational opportunities available in New Englandia, but there was one thing I could think of.

“Sometimes, on the weekends when the museum is closed, I like to volunteer at the animal extinction prevention facility.”

“Do you have a favorite animal?” he asked, tilting his head with interest.

“Definitely the wolves. Once mostly wild creatures, they’re more domesticated, or I should say, have more potential to be domesticated now than people realize. Once, I was invited to be a handler for one of the females in the pack.”

“Did she have a name?” he asked the simple question with an obvious desire to know, with a light in his eyes that drew me into the discussion.

“Mishka,” I grinned.

“You should introduce me to her one day. I’d love to meet her,” he replied. There was a surprising warmth in his voice that seemed to connect instantly and directly to a place in my chest. Some deep, subconscious place in me reported quietly to my conscious mind how odd and new the sensation was.

“Really? Most people think it’s a lost cause, but the center is simply trying to sustain a variety of animal life for as long as possible until they can repopulate the rest of the planet.”

“I don’t think it’s a lost cause; animal life is important.”

“What’s it like? Outside the border, I mean?” I asked, feeling myself falling into the ease of conversation with this interestingand curious man, letting my nervousness drift away as we warmed to our topics.

“Have you never seen any of it?” He seemed genuinely surprised by my question.

“No. Outside travel isn’t really allowed.” I shook my head and met his eyes.

“I forget how different your city state is from mine,” he mused. He looked at the flowers on top of the island, his expression soft and nostalgic. “Some areas are just as you would imagine it would be, devoid of all life, nothing but a dust bowl of radiation and dirt and the odd artifact of previous human occupation. Some areas are slow to recover, but the signs are there. Fresh shoots of grass breaking through the earth, a colorful weed here and there, the first hints at tree life growing once more. Other places have thoroughly rebounded, lush and fertile from ash and fire, untouched by humans for hundreds of years. Pure wild nature,” his descriptions filled in my mental illustrations with greater detail than I’d been able to imagine.

I swallowed a mouthful of wine, enjoying the way the honeyed cheese brought out the blackberry undertones of the red wine and, for some reason, it made me feel brave.

“You mentioned how very different your home is than mine. Is it as old-world as they say it is?” I pressed.

“Old-world?” he echoed. He lifted a brow, studying me for some hint as to my meaning. I turned my gaze down, picking at the food that lay before me. I settled on a dried date, dipping it in a little bit of jam before I popped it into my mouth.

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