Page 5 of My Apocalypse Mountain Man
"Good thing you've got help."
The confidence in her voice, the assumption that we're partners in this, makes my gut twist in ways it hasn’t in forever.
"It's been a long time since I worked with someone," I admit.
"How long?"
Three years, eight months, and twelve days. But I don't say that.
"Long enough."
She doesn't push, which I appreciate. Instead, she returns to studying the map, occasionally asking questions about terrain, sight lines, zombie behavior patterns I've observed. Professional questions that keep us focused on survival rather than the awkwardness of two strangers forced into proximity.
"You were in the military," she observes. "The way you mark positions, your sight line calculations. Communications?"
"Army. Signal Corps."
"That explains the radio setup. Even damaged, it's more sophisticated than most settlements manage."
"Training sticks."
"Is that why you are isolated? Something that happened during service?"
"No." The word comes out harder than intended. "That came later."
She backs off immediately, recognizing the closed door. "Fair enough. We all have our reasons."
"What's yours?"
"My what?"
"Your reason for being alone at that outpost while everyone else evacuated."
Her expression tightens. "Someone had to coordinate. Make sure everyone gets out safely."
"But not you."
"I was supposed to leave last. After everyone was clear." She shrugs, but I can see the weight of it. "I miscalculated how fast the storm would move in."
"Or you prioritized everyone else over yourself."
"Same difference."
"No, it's not."
We look at each other across the map. We're both the type to put ourselves at risk for others, even when those others don't necessarily deserve it.
"I should check the equipment," I say, breaking the moment. "See what we have to work with."
"I'll help."
"Your feet—"
"Are fine. Sore, but functional." She tests her weight, grimaces slightly but stays standing. "I'm not going to sit around while you do all the work."
"Stubborn."
"Practical. Two people work faster than one."
