Page 51 of Resurrection
“Sure. Good timing too. I don’t think we have much water left.” He looks back towards our sleeping beauty and the beast spooning on the ground, pulling mygaze to them as well. “We can start breakfast when you get back.”
“Sounds good. Back in a jiff.”
The creek, not a river, is hidden amongst the tree line, which is about two hundred yards away from the barn. I can still see it from the waterbed, but I can almost guarantee they can’t see me from there. If I got into any trouble out here, I’d be fucked. They’d have no clue.
Gotta make this quick.
I unscrew the first canteen, dipping the spout into the cool, fast flowing water before repeating the motion with the others. It’s quiet, but then I hear multiple branches crack and snap in the distance, causing me to drop the canteen I’m working on and instantly raise my pistol, pointing it in the direction the noise came from. I sweep the tree line, willing the culprit to come out from its hiding spot. A minute passes. Two. I pass a glance across the space again, surveying the forest for any threats. Nothing. I let another moment pass, never letting my gaze faulter, and then, in the distance, I spot the cause as a squirrel darts across the brush. And then another. And another. There’s at least a dozen of those little tree rats chasing one another through the trees. I shake my head at them and take a calming breath. “I gotta fucking get out of here. Losing my damn mind.” I lift the final canteen and finish what I started. Once they’re all loaded up with fresh water, I turn and start the trek back to the barn. The side door is relatively silent as I reopen and close it when I return, but Cole senses my arrival almost as soon as I cross the threshold.
“All good?” Cole asks.
“All good,” I respond, unstrapping the canteens from my shoulders and setting them down on the ground along with the bundle of sticks I picked up on the way back, choosing not to embarrass myself and mention the fucking squirrels. “Gonna set up a fire on the concrete back here. You know, away from all the flammable shit.”
Without turning around, he gives me a single nod of confirmation before asking, “What’re you thinking for breakfast?”
I shrug, even though I know he doesn’t see it. “No fucking clue, but I’ll figure something out.”
“I’m sure you will. Think I could get a cup of coffee if we have any?”
“Yeah, I’ll check the packs. I’m pretty sure we have some instant mix left over. Don’t think we have any cream or sugar to make it how you like it, though.”
“At this point, I’m not gonna complain. Caffeine is caffeine,” Cole grumbles out, wiping a hand across his face.
“Roger, roger, Doc. Spicy bean juice, coming up.”
It's funny. After that night in the farmhouse, I thought for sure shit was going to change with us.
I fucking kissed him for fuck’s sake!
And he kissed me back!
You don’t come back from that without some sort of awkwardness. Or... at least I didn’t think you would. But somehow, nothing’s changed. It’s just like it was before, only now...
I cantastehim.
Is it wrong that I want to do that again? Would Aly be upset if I asked for more? Would Cole?
He seemed to be just as into it as I was. And, after our talk on limits and histories last winter, I don’t think he was opposed to the possibility, even back then.
Fuck... I need to talk to him. Clear the air. That’s what I should do. That’s what a responsible adult would do, and I am a responsible adult. So, I’ll talk to him.
Once we get to Tryon.
We don’t need my sexual hang-ups mucking up this place, it’s already filthy enough in here. Besides, it’s not the time for my bullshit; It’s time for breakfast.
I keep the fire small, just enough to place one of Jax’s cast iron skillets over it, and allow the water to boil for a few minutes before setting it aside to cool. Each of our packs is stocked with food options, so I open mine and start hunting. The package of instant coffee practically leaps out of my pack—probably knowing just how much we’re all going to need its awesomeness this morning—and lands in my lap. Diving back in, it doesn’t take long until the distinct rectangular shape and plastic feel of a package I know very well finds my grasp. Luckily, the military deemed us worthy enough to offer breakfast offerings in MRE form, and Jax’s prepper assdecided to hoard and pack every single one he had left for our lovely stroll to salvation. I lift the package, smiling at the label. While many despised this particular bag, it was one of my favorites: The Veggie and Cheese Omelet.
Fully packed together in all its brick-like perfection, the veggie and cheese omelet is a testament to modern engineering. Eggs, in their most natural form, are not supposed to resemble building materials, but this beauty could probably hold up a steel building.
Functionalanddelicious.
At least to me, anyways.
The other perk about this particular MRE: it is fully fucking loaded, ready to make breakfast its bitch and provide plenty of nutrients for all of us. One by one, I pull out the contents.
The ever-tasty cinnamon scone. Beautifully dehydrated granola with powdered milk and blueberries. Crackers with scrumptious apple butter. French vanilla cappuccino instant powder... because we’re fancy like that. Salsa verde to add a bit of zest. And of course, the absolute cherry on top of this rustic buffet, the veggie and cheese omelet.
I set out the pouches, opening the granola with blueberries and dumping its contents into my metal canteen holder. It’s not a bowl by any means, but it’s round and holds shit well, so who the fuck cares? A little water goes a long way, and before long,boom,cereal... with actual blueberries.
