Right Here Waiting

“She's in the building with us,” Rebecca said in a whisper. She fiddled with the arm of her glasses, the right lens cracked along the top. Her warm sweater hung on her, she'd lost so much weight over the last month. Donna was worried about her; there was enough food since the rotters didn't take the canned stuff or anything packaged well enough that it didn't smell like food. The younger woman was simply unable to bring herself to eat often enough. Rebecca had become separated from her daughter and the former Marine who had been looking after the two of them shortly before Donna found her; their secondary goal as a group was to get Rebecca back to her daughter and hopefully bring the former Marine into their group. The primary goal, of course, was living long enough to do so.

“Are you sure?” Donna asked. Shorter, more confident, fierce in a fight, she had become a bulwark for the other two women and the de facto leader of their small group. Percy, though he avoided leadership moments, needed less emotional support and was usually content to do his own solitary work. Right now Percy was scouting out the school the small group had holed up in, making sure it was safe enough and checking for food and supplies.

“I heard a door open back that way,” Rebecca said, gesturing to the west of them. “Percy's that way.” She gestured in the opposite direction.

“They can't open doors, can they?” Sherie asked. Freshly bandaged, having been injured in the fight with the strange flu rioter they were currently hiding from, she was sitting in the reading corner rocking chair with her wounded leg propped up on a tiny desk chair. Her hair fell into her face. Usually an endless font of humor and dirty jokes, Sherie looked worn out and the pain of her injury was clear on her face.

“We've got this door pretty secure,” Donna said, giving the chair they had wedged beneath the doorknob a pat. “I've never seen them open a door before, but this rotter is weird. It had a following and it was giving them some kind of orders.”

Percy had been the first of the group to start calling them rotters, originally because he'd been so tired he'd slurred the word rioters one late evening. The name had stuck.

“That was creepy,” Sherie muttered.

“Well, it doesn't have a following now,” Donna said, fire in her voice. “It's alone. We will be just fine.”

“I'm going to write this down while it's fresh,” Rebecca said. She opened her backpack and pulled out her ragged journal. “It's new, it needs documenting. Boss rotters and follower rotters.”

“Thank you, Rebecca,” Donna said. “Anything, any information, we can give the soldiers at the dam is going to be helpful.”

“Was planning to get to Vegas sometime,” Sherry said. “Kinda pictured way more strippers and naked ladies in general when I get there, though.” Donna pulled a blanket out of her backpack and covered the other woman up. “Thanks, beauty,” Sherie said.

“Nap,” Donna said. “I'm going to go find Percy and warn him.”

Rebecca looked up in alarm.

“Wedge the door shut with the chair after me,” Donna told her. “If the rotter starts messing with the door, use the airhorn to warn us, and we'll be right here to take care of it.”

Rebecca nodded and set her journal down, moving to do as Donna said. Donna's belly clenched as the door shut between them, her in the hall, the other women safely in the classroom, and she heard the chair being wedged beneath the doorknob again.


Rebecca walked around the classroom, searching for vulnerabilities and supplies. The windows were low and operable as a fire escape, but sturdy and locked. She wasn't sure if the boss rotter was capable of planning to break the windows, so she closed the shades to make less of a target, reasoning she could peek around the shades to keep watch. There was a small, narrow window in the door to the hall, she left that uncovered so she could watch for Donna or Percy.

She found warehouse store sized boxes of granola bars, fruit leather, and cheddar crackers shaped like fish in the teacher's storage closet. There was also a pile of floor cushions and some small fleece nap blankets; she spread out some of the floor cushions to make a mattress and a raised spot for Sherie's foot, then helped Sherie into the closet to stretch out.

“This way we can barricade ourselves in here if the boss rotter makes it through the door before Donna and Percy get to us,” Rebecca told Sherie. “And you can really rest. There's snacks here, and little bitty water bottles. Gonna leave the door open unless there's trouble, though.” She covered Sherie with a couple of the small fleece blankets.

“Keep the airhorn with you,” Sherie reminded her. “Love ya, girl, but it's naptime for me right now.”

“Will do,” Rebecca said, and returned to the main classroom to walk between the windows and the door, watching for trouble.

Percy swept from room to room, silent, eyes adjusted to the interior darkness, club hammer in hand. He had several guns on him, but guns brought attention, both from the rotters and from human survivors, and he preferred to be the one doing the finding in both cases. This hammer lacked the sharp edges of his shingling hatchet, but it was heavier and more easily cracked skulls. Cracked skulls wouldn't always kill a rotter, but it would knock them silly long enough to finish them off.

The old movies used to always say kill the brain, kill the zombie, but that wasn't completely true now that the walking undead surrounded them. You had to kill the creature enough that it couldn't heal before it died, and they healed fast. He'd seen plenty of rotters around missing limbs or with caved in heads. You had to make them dead enough that in the before world, they'd have died before an ambulance arrived.

It's not like they healed in front of you, just that if they didn't immediately die, they'd go hide somewhere until they did heal.

Parts of the school looked absolutely destroyed by fire and smashing damage. The cafeteria was wrecked, tables strewn about with visible violence. Enough of the building stood untouched, though, that locked up, it would be a fairly safe hidey hole for now, until they could move Sherie, had a working vehicle, and built up their supplies again.

He heard soft, careful footsteps behind him and ducked into the deeper shadows of an alcove with broken drinking fountains in it. Carefully, he edged up enough to look toward the footfalls, and saw Donna warily inching along the wall, clearly looking for him.

“Hey,” he said quietly, and she jumped, then hurried to the alcove where he stood.

“Rebecca heard a door open up that way,” she said, as quietly, pointing to the west. “They're barricaded into the class room. I came to let you know, and so we can go check it out together.”

“You don't have to come with,” he said.

“Yeah, I do,” she said, smiling, though her tone was sharper than her expression. “Teamwork, and also not leaving us wondering what happened to you. If she got you, I'd still have to come out to find you.”

“You're the boss,” he said, mildly.

“I guess you're the Enforcer,” she said, grinning.

“The Enforcer is my middle name, actually,” he said. “It was my mother's name.” He glanced down, confirming Donna held her Louisville Slugger. “All right, let's go see what we see. Everything's locked down and empty this way. I blocked any doorway that couldn't be locked that offers entrance into the school from the outside.”

“Anything in the kitchen for supplies?”

“Not at a glance, but there's a couple store rooms yet. I just made sure they didn't open to the outside, I didn't inventory them.”

She nodded, then moved behind him so they could begin the search to the west of the building. Donna felt a moment of gratitude that the building was a small enough elementary school that there was no upper floor, just the main level and presumably a basement.

“Basement secure?” she whispered. He gave her a look over his shoulder, reminding her he'd taught them whispering was easier to hear than careful, quiet speech.

“Haven't run into the basement yet.”

“Shit.”

“Yep.”

Sherie napped, exhausted, snoring lightly. Rebecca crouched near the door of the classroom, listening. It sounded to her like something was moving around a neighboring classroom, pushing furniture around, making soft noises that could be speech.

She hoped it was Donna and Percy.

And I'm Bound To Keep On Ridin'

Todd lay in the dark for his last night in the little turquoise RV. There was a queen size bed taking up the entire back alcove, with a narrow hallway between the mechanicals and the tiny bathroom, opening at the other end on the postage stamp kitchen, sitting and dining area. He could close a pocket door here and have a closet-sized bedroom if he wished.

He had yet to do that, though, since his tall frame barely fit the bed or the walls around it. Closing the door would only make him feel more trapped.

The ceiling back here curved up and forward, reminding him a little of the inside of a shell. His mind drifted as he stared up at it, only half seeing it.

It had taken a couple days after the loss of his parents before he'd decided to get moving, to hurry back to Minnesota and look for Eve and the children. One of the neighbors in that sprawling farmland and woodland where his parents had their little cabin had been a survivalist; he was also a Red Flu Rioter. Todd had killed him very carefully, trying to save the useful looking military jacket from bloodstains. The neighbor had been trapped in his own bomb shelter, and unfortunately, quite a mess was made.

Luckily there had been another military coat in with the supplies Todd had raided after dispatching the zombie neighbor. He also helped himself to the enormous Ford F750 and the trailer that was sturdy almost to the point of being armored. He took everything he could fit in the trailer and truck, all the food and wool blankets and first aid supplies and all the weapons and ammunition. Turned out most of the zombie's survival supplies fit pretty well in the truck and trailer, and Todd assumed that had been the point.

A day later and farther North, he'd found Marvelle Jones and Ryan Michael Crombey, sitting on her front porch, Galaxie prancing at her feet. Ryan had been her neighbor; his father had sent him to hide in her tornado shelter while he'd fought off a biter that had already destroyed Ryan's mother and sister. Later, privately, Marvie told Todd that biter had actually been Ryan's uncle, who had taken shelter with the Crombeys when the riots started.

Ryan and Marvie had stayed in the tornado shelter for days, until lack of food had sent them back into Marvie's little shack of a house. They'd taken to sitting on the porch during the brightest hours to watch for travelers in hope rescue would come.

Well, Marvie sat. Ryan free-wheeled all over the yard and porch like an overly caffeinated bird. And Todd stayed the night, then helped them get Marvie's ancient motor home running well enough to follow the F750 down the highways.

A week later, parked in some desolate little town, combing through a combination bar and gas station for supplies, Todd had noticed a wary young face watching them through a crack in a heavy bathroom door. He borrowed Galaxie to lure out the watcher and found Kirsten and her toddler brother Kolby. Marvie had scooped up the toddler and taken the children under her wing, giving them shelter in her motor home as the growing group continued their journey North.

It was with great relief when the next two survivors Todd came across were grown and healthy adults who could help defend the more vulnerable survivors he'd already gathered up. Both had simply walked up into camp on their own; Tim as evening fell about a week after Kirsten and Kolby had been found, Lewis Pontillion one morning after having been watching them since the night before. It was Lewis that had the travel trailer that he and Tim took to sleeping in, the rickety thing that Marvie pulled with her own motor home. At that point, Todd was in the habit of sleeping in the truck.

At least until he found this RV and thought how much Eve would love it. She had a powerful fondness for mid-century colors and design. “The end of the world had come to a halt, and people were so optimistic!” she said. “It is architecture of blooming and hope.”

He'd wanted her to have this piece of that optimism, but it was more important to simply find the Aubreys and make sure they were safe. She'd managed to text him a few times in the first days after the riots started, but then his phone had died, and even after he found the solar charger in the survivalist's bunker, there had been no signal. At least they'd been alive and safe last time he'd heard, so he was going to find them and bring them to the Fort and keep that little family safe.

Todd didn't remember falling asleep, but he woke up to the smell of coffee. It was hard to find sugar anymore, but coffee apparently hadn't smelled like food to the rioters. He sat up, careful not to scrape his head on the curve of the roof.

Ryan stood in the squeezed hallway, holding a cup of coffee very carefully and trying very hard and very obviously not to become un-still and drop it.

“Thank you, young sir,” Todd said gratefully, and Ryan beamed at him. Todd took the cup so Ryan could go back to being Ryan, tracing the outlines of the cupboard and tapping things with some interest. The older man drank the hot, rich coffee as fortification. Young Ryan chattered and fiddled with the camper. “Hey, buddy, take this cup back to Marvie and then come help me move my stuff out of here, ok?” Todd said when he finished the cup. Ryan nodded eagerly and grabbed the cup to return it to Marvie. Todd sighed a moment later to see the boy running around the campsite trying to catch some small rodent with the cup.

“Redirect and support good behavior,” he murmured. “Never show fear. They smell fear. And donuts.” Leaning out of the RV, he caught Kirsten's attention and nodded at Ryan. The older girl ran and reminded him of where the cup belonged. Miffed, Ryan stalked back to Marvie's motor home to return the cup.

“Thanks, kid,” Todd said, when Kirsten came back to him. “Everyone up?”

“Yes, sir,” Kirsten said. “Except Kolby, but we'll let him sleep until we're on our way. Miss Marvie said to tell you she needs you when you get up. Lewis and Tim got everything squared away so we're ready to go once you have your stuff out of your camper.”

Todd handed her a battered old Jansport backpack. “This is my stuff. And I've got a box of stuff I'm keeping from the camper. Can you put this bag and the box on the dining bench into Joy Rider for me and I'll go check in with Marvie?”

“Done and done!” she said smartly, clearly glad for any job that wasn't wrangling the younger children.

“I'm low on my medications,” Marvie said, solemnly. “I know what I need and I know we need to keep moving, but...”

“We can't make it without you, Miss Marvie,” Todd said, affectionately. “We'll stop at the next standing pharmacy we see. Got a list?”

“Of course I do, I ain't about wasting your time, young Todd.” She gave him her sweet, wide smile, her pink gums flashing in the early light. She handed him a note in neat script with three medications listed. “My blood pressure medicine, my medicine that helps with the acid from the blood pressure medicine, and my arthritis medicine.”

“Got it,” he said. “Done and done. We could use the stop to grab a lot of useful things.”

“Just leave us a good gunslinger to keep us safe while you forage, ok?”

“Of course! Not that I have any doubt you could simply charm the zombies into obedience. I figure I'll take Lewis and Tim can stand guard. First decent pharmacy we see.”

“Are we ready?” she asked, with that big smile.

“We are always ready,” Todd said. “I'll go start up Joy Rider and off we'll go. Soon as I make sure everyone has their radio on.”

“That's a big old chain pharmacy off on the left there,” Todd said into the radio, some hours later. “Still early enough in the day we can stop and grab some things, and if we park near enough, we can come back in the morning, too.”

“Sounds good,” Lewis said, from the truck. “I'm thinking there's a rest stop about a mile and a half up. Good place for camp.”

“ROGER,” Ryan shouted into the radio.

“Got it,” Tim said a moment later, having grabbed the radio back from the boy. Tim generally drove for Marvie, who liked to sit in the dining booth and try to keep Ryan occupied with games and books. “Let's get the to the rest stop, and y'all can head back to the pharmacy.”

The rest stop was a vast, empty parking lot, an overgrown field, and a squat little building with vending machines, and two dark and cobwebbed bathrooms separated by gender. There was an old fashioned water pump outside and an RV dumping station.

“Thank the Lord,” Marvie said. “It is beyond time for that.”

“It all looks good around here,” Lewis said, walking back to the parked vehicles after his circuit of the rest stop. “Opened up the vending machines.”

“YES,” Ryan said, and Kirsten scooped up Kolby and they all hurried to grab snacks.

“I'll help empty the holding tanks and refill the water,” Tim said, making a bit of a face. “See you guys when you get back.”

“Keep an eye out,” Todd warned. “We'll be fast.”

“Easy peasy,” Tim said. “I'll make sure everyone's in before the light starts to fade. Don't worry about us. Worry about you guys.”

There Is A Taste of Thyme-Sweetened Honey

“I think this is what the ancients would call a score,” Todd Bolin said to himself, hands on his hips, battered military field coat crusted with crystalline snow. He could see his own shadow stretching toward the object of his quest, cast by the bright sunlight behind him through the open door of the city's utility garage. “I think I will call you Joy. Joy Rider.”

Ms Rider, Joy to her friends, sat alone in the middle of the garage, other machinery farther in the shadows or in other bays. She was bulky and powerful, taller by half again at least than Todd's own six foot four height. The plow on her front gleamed in the sunlight, beneath a light blanket of dust.

“Really? The ancients? From, like, three months ago?” Tim Walter asked, edging into the garage, keeping his eye out behind them for zombies. Some might call them biters, or rioters, or red-eyes – he called them as he saw them. “Not even gonna comment on 'Joy Rider' as a name for a municipal snow plow.”

“I know, it's perfect,” Todd said. The younger man, slightly shorter but many shades darker and several measures thinner, made a sarcastic noise only half under his breath. “No, don't thank me. Thank Joy.”

“Can you start her up?” Tim asked.

“It's not a question I get asked often,” Todd said. “My skill is renowned. But yeah, I think Joy and I can come to a mutually beneficial agreement.”

They swept the garage with their flashlights, finding nothing. The building had been properly locked for some time before the Red Flu Riots; there were few opportunities to use a snowplow in southern Illinois in the late summer and early fall.

Tim climbed into the passenger seat and watched as Todd pretended he was going to hotwire the snowplow.  With a flourish, Todd held up the keys, which had been barely hidden beneath the seat.

"Wow," Tim said.

Todd turned the key in the ignition and the plow made several coughing, grumbling noises and started up, the engine unbearably loud in the small space. The young man instinctively locked his door.

“Good call, bad neighborhood these days,” Todd said.

“Can you drive it?”

Todd raised his eyebrows and stared at Tim. “Joy and I have come to a mutually beneficial arrangement,” he said firmly.

“Time to get back to the others?”

“We'll go slow and make sure we're not gathering attention first. Keep an eye out.” Todd pulled a small, ivory colored pendant out from beneath his shirt and kissed it, then tucked it back in and put the machine into drive.

He pictured Eve Aubrey making the face she always made when she was excited and joyful – hands clasped up beneath her beaming face, sometimes accompanied by a little dance. She was always child-like in unguarded happiness.

His hand strayed to touch his Brigit pendant beneath the double layers of tee-shirt under his sturdy coat.

They pulled the plow up just outside the tall, fenced in lot where they'd parked the motor homes. Inside the fence, a travel trailer, two motor homes, and a Ford F-750 tank of a truck hooked up to a reinforced supply trailer formed a rough circle. A sandy-haired boy no more than twelve years old came bolting pell-mell for the gate, followed quickly by a teenage girl still young enough to keep her bright red hair in stubby pigtails.

“I got it, Ryan, chill out!” she hissed. “Go back to Marvie.”

“HI TODD! You're back!” Ryan shouted, grabbing the chain link with his hands with a clang. The men in the snowplow quickly looked around to make sure the boy's yelling wasn't bringing any hungry attention.

“Ryan, dammit,” Tim began, rolling the window down.

“Got it,” Todd said, opening the driver's door and swinging out and down to street level. “Hey, kid, good to see you again, it's been a couple hours. So, Kirsten's going to open the gate, I need you to go make sure Kolby and Galaxie are safetly contained. You know it's too big a job to ask Marvie to do it by herself, and a man's gotta look out for his people, right?”

Ryan nodded importantly and bolted back toward the circle. Kirsten gave Todd about as haggard a look as a fourteen year old could manage, clearly worn out from trying to keep Ryan and little Kolby occupied. The teenager swung the gate open while Tim, now out of the vehicle, stood watch. Todd climbed back in and pulled the plow inside the fence. The other two locked it up behind them, everyone safe inside.

“Everyone” was a grand total of seven folks and one tiny dog. One Todd Bolin, traveler heading for the family he was separated from; one little old lady, Marvelle Jones and her Yorkie mix, Galaxie; one toddler, Kolby Dowling and his big sister Kirsten; one unmedicated preteen with ADHD, Ryan Michael Crombey, who made a point of introducing himself earnestly with all three of his names; two young men, both all that remained of their own folks, Tim Walter and Lewis Pentillion. All gathered up a couple at a time, except for the young men who joined the group one at a time, by Todd after he'd left his parent's farmhouse to go back to Minnesota and find – and protect – his family.

Lewis stood on top of the supply trailer, shotgun at rest over his arm. He gave the two returning men a nod, unlit cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth. Though it was chilly and icy snow frosted the ground and buildings around them, Lewis wore only an AC/DC tee shirt covered by an insulated flannel shirt, grubby jeans, and cowboy boots.

“Ho, the Mullet guard!” Todd saluted as he, Tim, and Kirsten passed back into the circle of recreational vehicles.

“Hey, smartass,” Lewis grumbled.

“That mullet has grown more majestic in the time we've been gone,” Todd said. “Any more majestic and a bald eagle's gonna land on your head.”

“Fuckin' right,” Lewis said. The cigarette moved to the other side of his mouth. “All quiet here.”

“I made chili,” Marvie said, poking at a kettle suspended above their campfire, set in a small hole dug into the gravel of the parking lot. The fenced in area they'd camped in for the last night had once been a storage lot of some sort; the building attached had burned some weeks ago. Enough of a wall stood yet on the fenced in side to offer enough safety that young Ryan, baby Kolby, and dainty Galaxie could be allowed some freedom to play inside the circle.

“It smells heavenly,” Tim sighed. “Smells like home.”

“Smells like Hoosier fucks,” Lewis said. “Smells like something that might make them wanna climb a fence and have a bowl.”

“Lewis,” Marvie chided, looking over her glasses at him, small brown face disapproving. “They're not Hoosiers.” After pinning him with her most stern face, she broke into a charming, naughty grin. “They're not THAT bad. They just eat people.” She giggled, covering her mouth. Galaxie danced around at her feet, delighted by her owner's mirth.

“All right, let's eat up fast and store the food for the night,” Todd said, with a nod of agreement at Lewis. “If we have it put away by the gloaming, less for the red-eyed people eaters to come looking for.”

“Where's the gloaming?” Ryan asked, confused. “Is it packed away?”

“For the moment, kid,” Todd said, grinning. “Just for the moment.

“He just means when it starts to get dark. Gloaming is a time, not a place,” Tim said, exasperated.

“Says you,” Todd said.

“Boys!” Marvie said stoutly. “Let's eat, shall we? And plot out what we mean to do tomorrow? Tim, you still got that map, right?”

“I do, Miss Marvelle. Of course.”

“Well, set down then. Let's eat. You heard me, Ryan Micheal Crombey. Set.”

“I think we'll leave my trailer behind,” Todd said, regretfully, as they pored over the map much later in Marvie's motorhome. Kirsten and Kolby were asleep on a pull out sofa against one wall and Ryan was sleeping in a full sized bunk above the driver's area.

“Thank goodness,” Tim said solemnly. “It's old, hideous, and not in great shape.”

"Not all 'at different from Todd, actually," Lewis said.

“Yeah,” Todd said, quietly, letting the insult pass untopped. Eve would have loved that motor home, though – turquoise, chrome and white, still fitted with the vintage turquoise appliances inside. He'd found it in a backyard as they'd driven past, him in the Ford, Marvie and the kids in her Winnebago, and Tim and Lewis in the Airstream, being pulled however improbably by the Winnebago. Todd had pulled the convoy to a halt so they could investigate, then take, the motor home. Lewis had been happy to take over driving the Ford so Todd could drive the 1964 Travco. “But the snowplow is more important. I can drive it up front, and keep the roads clear for all of us. Only gonna be more snow as we get more northerly.”

“Minnefuckingsota,” Lewis grumbled.

“Language,” Marvie said, absentmindedly.

“Sorry, ma'am,” the rough young man said dutifully.

“There's a Fort there with people in it,” Todd said. “We can be safe there. I know someone there.”

He sounded so very sure, the others had no doubts to express. And he was sure, if only because if he'd lost the little family he'd left behind the way he'd lost his parents, he was certain he'd lose his mind.

A Time To Every Purpose Under Heaven

Daria puffed her breath out, her hands pressing hard into her lower back. “Not today, baby, I ain't got our room set up right yet. You gotta stay put. Another week. You ain't supposed to be here for another week anyway.”

“Baby's impatient?” Haley asked, a little wistfully. The girls were making their beds in the little bunk room that would become Haley's room when Daria went into labor and was moved into the birth room Dana was making at the northwestern end of the hospital. Haley didn't really care about having her own room; it was reassuring to wake in the night and hear Daria breathing across the room. She was wistful mostly because soon Daria would see her baby, and hold it, and be a mother. Her own due date seemed so far off in contrast some days she felt the baby might be imaginary.

“Think she's gotta be a girl, she's all impatient like me,” Daria said.

“That would be nice, a little girl. So cute. Like all in pink and little bows.” Haley smiled at the thought.

“They brought back so many baby clothes last time,” Daria said. “I'm gonna try sorting and stacking them in the plastic bins in the storage room. You think I should do it by size and what kind of baby it is? Or should I do like a whole wardrobe for a baby, and the moms can just take a whole bin and that's their baby clothes?”

“Do it by size. I'll come help. I'll organize the diapers and stuff.”

“It's kind of a surprise for Ruth,” Daria said. “She was gonna do it later today when she got back from helping Ed and Ben get water. But I need to do something. What job you got today?”

“I already did it. I helped Amanda and Eve clean up the bakery and move some furniture out of the barracks and down into storage until more people come.”

“All while I was napping?”

“Yeah. I needed something to do, too. I miss Facebook.”

Daria laughed at that; high, squeaking peals that had Haley laughing with her.

Eve and Katrin stumbled into the bathroom with the shower much later that night, covered in soot and dirt.

“I hate bakeries,” Katrin said, dramatically.

“You loved Cupcake.”

“I never had to clean Cupcake,” Kat said. Her mother checked their camp showers and decided the water was hot enough. The camp showers were thick black plastic bags with shower hoses on them, meant to be left in the sun to heat up. Eve had left these two in her kitchen near enough the fireplace to warm up properly and Will had brought them down to the shower only moments ago.

“I have plans for the bakery.”

“You have plans for everything. You used to have plans for everything AND we never had to scrub out a whole bakery,” Kat groused. “You just did the plans part in nine hundred notebooks.”

“Yes, but now I am SuperEve, Mother of Multitudes, and your Glorious Leader.” Eve, half undressed in the icy bathroom, clenched her hands into fists and let her head fall back to make a good evil genius laugh.

“No,” Kat said, unimpressed. She stood in the shower and Eve hooked her camp shower up over the shower rod so Katrin could get cleaned up first. Eve used a cold washrag and the bucket of clean water near the sink to try and wipe off the first layer of grime while she waited for her turn at the hot showers.

“I hope you have plans for cupcakes,” Katrin muttered in the shower.

“I heard that!”

“I don't like it bikkiks all a time,” Val said grouchily. “I want bread you buy it from store.”

“Sorry, bud. The biters ate all the bread,” Eve said sympathetically. “And most of the packets of yeast, even, or I'd make you real bread.”

“My dad made real bread,” Owen said. “And he would make us cinnamon rolls with the leftover dough.”

“Man, those were so good,” Aiden said. “I miss-” The older boy cut himself off, looking at his friend with a worried look.

“That sounds like a very happy memory,” Eve said, gently.

“It is,” Owen said, beaming. “I miss my dad but I like thinking about his cooking.”

“Yeah,” Aiden said, relieved.

Samson lurched up from the spot where he'd been dozing near the kitchen fire and launched himself from the room, barking ferociously. He scrabbled his paws against the back door, growling and barking urgently.

Amanda reached him first. Eve signaled to Owen, Aiden and Katrin to stay with Val and Baby, then followed the others, taking her axe up as she passed where it rested against the kitchen threshold. Ahead of her, Amanda, Ben, Travis and Will were already armed with bows and Will's iron hoe.

“Hush,” Amanda told Samson, and the dog fell immediately silent, his body tight and nearly vibrating with alertness. At Travis' raised eyebrow she said “I found that one out when we were clearing out the storage buildings.”

Ben reached around the dog and Amanda to start opening the door.

“Heel,” Amanda said, and Samson took the position.

“Will,” Eve said. “Go let Tammy and Haley know we have a ruckus up here, and to be alert. Quietly.” Will nodded and hurried to the front door and out toward the catwalk and the Round Tower.

Eve passed the jackets forward and they shrugged them on, then the four and Samson slipped out the back door, closing it tightly behind them. Amanda and Ben had their heavy duty flashlights out, but not on, the night was lit well enough by the moon right now and any light might actually obscure their vision and make it easier for someone or something to hide in the shadows.

Samson led them down the back stairs and then up on top of the Half Moon Battery behind the Commander's Quarters. He pointed tensely down at the trail below them.

His people crouched behind the wooden barrier and searched the shadows below them. He whined a little and scratched the flat wood platform forming the roof of the Half Moon Battery.

“There, down there,” Ben hissed in a whisper, pointing. He nocked an arrow, holding down and ready. Amanda copied his action, scooting low on her toes over to look where he was pointing. They crowded around him.

The moon lit the trails below them like a river of alabaster snow in the absence of the leaves, the bare branches black and stark against the reflected moonlight.

At first Eve couldn't tell what they were looking at, only that someone had been making tracks on the trail, a broken ripple on that river of moonlight. Then she caught motion and sucked in her breath.

A group of at least ten Red Flu rioters were scrambling through the snow below them, following the trail. The going looked tough, the ones at the front were being trampled on as the ones behind them went over them in a low, on all fours swarming movement. Slightly behind the main group, one figure walked upright, stepping in the snow they'd compacted, the chaotic trail they were leaving. They didn't seem aware of the watchers holding their breath up on the Half Moon Battery.

“Who's having a party up here?” Ed called out, climbing up the steps. Travis was on him in a second, bringing him down to a crouch, holding his finger up to his mouth to silence him.

“We're observing a phenomenon,” he whispered. “Do not fire that weapon.” He indicated the rifle Ed held. “We watch. Then we will go back to Eve's to discuss what to do. We're safe right now, we won't be if we get their attention.”

“Scratch that,” Eve whispered back to them. “We can meet at Ed's if that's all right with Ed. Let's not have this discussion in front of the children.”

Ed nodded his agreement with an air of pleased importance. Will's head popped up high enough to see as he came up the stairs.

“Get Dana and meet us at Ed's,” Travis said quietly, stopping him before he came all the way up. Will gave a disappointed nod and hurried off again.

“They're out of sight,” Amanda said. “Let's go in.”

“I say we hunt them down, splatter 'em against a wall,” Ed said, leaning on his fireplace mantle. The others gathered around in chairs and on a bench. Lila fussed around making sure everyone had some coffee and then sat next to Eve on the bench.

Eve gave her a smile before turning her attention back to Ed, who clearly felt that he was leading this meeting. Something about Lila reminded her of a small, yappy dog kicked too many times. Like she desperately needed some kindness, but there was a fair chance she'd bite if you offered her any.

“I think we need to track them and watch them, if we can, for a bit. They were being led, did you see that?” Amanda asked.

“Yea,” Ben began, but was interrupted by Ed.

“By the guy at the back? That's leading?” Ed asked.

“We've seen that behavior before, at Target,” Travis said. “One clear leader, who seemed able to give commands without speaking. Looked like they were on the move following someone's orders, all of them working together and not eating each other.”

“Fucking weird,” Ed muttered.

“Yep,” Amanda said shortly. “Which is why it would help if we can figure out what's going on with them. So we can know better how to protect ourselves from fucking feral packs of them, instead of just one at a time biters.”

Ed sighed loudly. “Yeah, ok.” The others looked to Eve.

“We can start tracking them tomorrow in daylight, while they're sleeping. Find where they're holed up and observe. And from tonight we'll need an extra watch up on the Half Moon Battery. They can't attack us from back there, but we'll need to keep an eye out for them. Objections?”

“Agreed,” Dana said, and the others echoed her, Ed last. “I can take this watch. We can alter the official schedule in the morning.”

“I'll take after her,” Ed said. Ben volunteered for the watch after that.

“That brings us to daylight,” Eve said. “We can meet at the schoolhouse after breakfast. I have to get the runts tucked in. Goodnight, folks.” She stood, stretching her back a little.

“See ya in the morning,” Ben said, and she left them there, gathered in Ed's little parlor.

“I need new story,” Val said grumpily, tucked into his bunk. “I tired of mouse cookies. I want Sharknado.”

“No!” Katrin snapped. Both girls were tucked in with Val for the moment. Once the story was over Katrin would hurry back to the room that used to be Eve's, and her mother would carry Baby, and they'd both be tucked into the double bed in there. Then Eve would head upstairs to rest in her new bedroom, the formerly empty spare room upstairs. It was still mostly used for storage, but now Eve had a bed tucked in between the dormer windows, too.

“I am going to read you Harry Potter,” Eve said. “And then you're all going to sleep and dream of being wizards.” And not, she thought, that maybe we are under siege by organized monsters.

Jokers To The Right

Eve had a bound journal in front of her as she stood at the teacher's desk in the schoolhouse in the Fort. Amanda stood near her, the other residents of the Fort sat in the benches facing her. A fire muttered and sparked in the fireplace behind her, lending a decent amount of warmth to the room, and lanterns set on the window sills gave plenty of light despite the weight of the winter darkness outside.

The children were in the back, and Val was amusing Baby by having her settled on his lap in the rocking chair Amanda had set up for him and sharing a picture book together. The other children were valiantly trying to be grown up enough to be at the meeting.

“So we have a number of new people, so let's all stand one by one and introduce ourselves,” Eve said. “Obviously I am Eve Aubrey. I'm over in the Commander's house.”

Ed Bender sneered again, and Lila looked around nervously to see if anyone noticed. She saw only the short Native midwife even glance at them.

Eve pointed to Amanda, and the young woman introduced herself, then pointed at Travis, who was sitting closest to them, and the introductions went around the room in a fairly orderly fashion. Val and Baby both ignored their cues, so Eve introduced them.

“Ok, so I'll act as the meeting manager, almost like this is one big IEP,” Eve said, and chuckled, then looked abashed when no one else but Amanda seemed to get the joke. “An IEP is an educational plan for special needs kids,” she explained, lamely. Ben smiled encouragingly. “So, we are going to have a meeting like this every third night for now,” she said. “And all the adults need to be here -”

“So you're not gonna have all these noisy kids here next time?” Ed said loudly.

Ben turned to shoot him a dirty glance. “Do not interrupt our Glorious Leader.”

“I don't see how she-” Ed began, and Amanda slammed a yardstick down on the teacher's desk. Eve jumped back, startled, and Ed fell silent.

“In the interest of orderliness, Eve is managing this meeting,” Travis said, mildly. “She's been here longest, and Gary appointed her the leader.”

Eve cleared her throat. “Ok. I need to stop saying ok. First, Travis and Ben have compiled a list of jobs that need to be done daily, and I've made a calender for the next three days on the blackboard behind me here. When we get everyone assigned, I'll draw it all up properly and hang it up on this bulletin board over there between the windows. There's twelve main jobs, some of which need several people. And then there's patrolling. There's ten of us who could probably patrol if we include Will and Haley.”

Will winced to be considered the same ability level as the slightly younger pregnant girl.

“Um!” Ben's hand shot up.

“Ben?” Eve said, patiently, pointing to him to acknowledge his need to speak.

He stood up. “I'm going to suggest we keep Dana and Haley off the patrol list. Haley's going to need more rest right now and Dana is our medic. We need her alert if someone is injured.”

“I'm a midwife, actually,” Dana said, standing up.

Travis turned to her. “We need you to stay seated and raise your hand,” he said, firmly. She sat down quickly and raised her hand.

Eve gestured to Ben to sit back down, then pointed at Dana. “Dana.”

Dana stood up again. “Actually, I am a midwife, not necessarily a medic.”

“This is ridiculous!” Ed snapped, and Travis turned to him.

“It's not your turn.”

Ed muttered under his breath.

“Closest we got right now,” Eve said. “And you do know your stuff. You keep patching the young people up.”

Ben's hand shot up again, and he wiggled a little in his spot. Amanda glared at him, but it didn't slow him down any. Dana glanced at Ben, up at Eve, gave a short nod of agreement, and sat back down.

Eve turned back to Ben, pointed at him, and said his name. He shot up. “That's what I mean. She's the midwife, she's got two pregnant girls to take care of, and we need her alert enough to also patch us all up. So I think those two should be exempt from the patrol.” He sat back down, finally relaxed. Behind him Haley's hand shot up.

“Haley.”

The teenager gave Ben a mutinous look as she stood. “I can patrol.” She sat down and crossed her arms over the small mound of her belly.

Dana raised her hand again.

“Dana.”

“She would be fine for about two more months yet, I think,” she said. “I wouldn't want her up on the Round Tower or anything – your balance changes as your pregnancy progresses. But she could patrol other places.”

“Ok,” Eve said. “So here's the tentative plan. We'll do patrols of three hours each. First patrol will always include Haley, and she'll sit up on the catwalk. Whoever is drawn with her will take the Round Tower. After three hours the next two will come on, and we'll draw groups, and one of each group will take the catwalk and the other the Round Tower. If that sounds fair, raise your hand.”

“Wait, who gets to vote?” Ed asked loudly. Dana, Ben, and Travis turned to him. “I know it's not my turn,” he snapped. “But everyone's gonna be raising their hand to vote in a moment and no one would have seen I was trying to ask a question.”

“It's fine,” Eve said. “Sixteen and up.”

“Yes!” Will said under his breath.

“Aw...” Kat muttered.

Daria raised her hand tentatively. Eve recognized her and Daria levered herself awkwardly to her feet, on hand supporting her enormous belly.

“Miss Eve, I'm fifteen.”

“That's too bad,” Ed said, still seated. “Fifteen and pregnant. Bad enough. She don't need to vote.”

Dana whipped around to bare her teeth at Ed. “Everything we discuss affects her and her baby.”

Lila piped up. “No, Ed's right, she's too young and she clearly makes bad choices anyway.”

The people on the benches began to argue amongst themselves until Amanda shouted. “ENOUGH.”

“Thank you,” Eve said to Amanda. “Do we need to do a secret ballot? What age should be the cut off?” The others nodded to each other, murmuring assent. Eve passed out paper and pencils, and Amanda collected the votes in a basket, adding her own before she collected the others.

Eve tallied the votes on the chalk board, showing each ballot to the group.

“That's one each for the cut off age being twenty one, six, eighteen, eleven, and ten. That's two for fifteen. That's six for sixteen and two abstaining, Baby and Val.”

“Wait, the retard gets a vote?” Ed interrupted. Eve turned to look at him, her face red.

“Yeah, you sure do, Ed,” Amanda said, raising her voice. Ed stood up, his face turning nearly as red as Eve's.

Travis and Ben stood up and turned to face him down.

“You are here by Eve's choice,” Travis said, his voice again so calm Amanda knew he was furious. “I'd suggest you use respectful language when talking about her children.”

Lila stood up beside Ed. “He didn't mean anything bad by it. Ed is good to the retarded kids. He donates in the jar at the corner store all the time and give his quarters to-”

“EVERYBODY SIT DOWN,” Eve thundered. Travis and Ben waited until Ed and Lila obeyed before doing the same.

“You,” Eve said, pointing at Ed. “My son is not 'the retard”. His name is Valiant James Aubrey and you may call him Val, but you will not again refer to him the way you just did.”

“Fucking sensitive,” Ed muttered. Lila laughed nervously.

“This is a safe place and we all need to live here in cooperation and peace,” Eve snarled. “The voting age is sixteen. Now everyone who thinks the patrol plan is fair RAISE YOUR DOGGONE HANDS. Thank you. Passed. Now on to the rest of the agenda.” She took a deep breath and visibly released all of her pent up upset.

“Hate dat guy,” Val whispered to Baby.

“Book!” Baby yelled.

Val carefully kissed Baby's head, and opened her book to share with her.

Cain's Blood

“This is the main bathroom we use,” Ben told Tammy, giving her the tour. She'd arrived just before dawn and had been waiting patiently just outside the front gate, knocking every now and then. Ben had found her, since Travis was nowhere to be found, not even already at Eve's mooching breakfast in that chaotic, welcoming kitchen. He'd figured out who she was pretty quickly; when she went by another name, she'd been mentioned enough by Gary, though Ben had never met her.

So now Ben was showing her around. She'd stowed her things in one of the barrack rooms, the one closest to the little Fort store.

“This is the grey water barrel. We flush the toilet from it and we fill it from the shower water or wash water, et cetera. There's the shower, it's usable, we fill the camp shower with the hand pump. You can heat the camp shower up near your fire or in the window so it gets sun. Just... watch it if you put it near the fire. Eve's melted two now.”

“Got it,” Tammy said. “Don't melt the camp showers. Don't bathe in the grey water. Don't flush the clean water.”

“Well, that was simpler. I should make a sign,” Ben said, and grinned at Tammy. “Ok, come back to the commissary and I'll get you a camp shower and some food. Eve generally feeds people, too, but then you have to give her some of your food to refill her pantry.”

“Eve was here first?”

“No, a man named Joe Raymond was here first. He was killed. Not by Eve,” Ben added hastily. “Eve is our Glorious Leader.”

“She's... kind of quiet for that, isn't she?”

“She didn't assign herself that name. Gary appointed her. Travis, Amanda and I are her right hands. So she's like an octopus of some sort.”

“I'm not trying to take her job,” Tammy said, her smoker's voice wry. “Just usually the Mad Max leaders tend to be way louder and way crazier.”

“It's ok. Gary trusted her, we trusted Gary, so she's the boss until she says she's not.”

“Trusted?” Tammy said, sharply.

Ben's usually grinning face fell. “Yeah. Gary's here, but he's passed.”

“What do you mean, here?”

Gary lay in a large wooden box, far bigger than a regular coffin, on the bottom floor of the Hexagonal Tower, several floors below ground level for the Fort. There were arrow-slit windows here, as the Fort was built along a cliff, and this tower clung to the side of that cliff. Gary was tucked between two of the slits.

“He's in here,” Ben said, unnecessarily. Tammy took a lighter out of her narrow-strapped purse and lit the candles set over the top of the box, solemnly.

“Why...” she gestured at the whole setup when she finished.

“Ground's frozen. Can't put him in the river – we don't know where the body will end up and we need the water. Didn't want to take him out of the Fort and risk him being eaten or us being attacked. So Travis and Eve – who has a creepy knowledge of body handling, by the way – figured this out. Gary's wrapped in a white sheet, then we put him in a barrel in the fetal position. The smell was not so nice by then. We filled the barrel with lime – Eve says it may preserve the body more than dissolving it. As I said, creepy. But he's in the lime, then we wrapped the barrel in plastic bags and duct tape, several times over, then surrounded the barrel in this box with more lime. Come spring we'll bury the barrel out by the chapel.”

“Across that little bridge outside the Fort?”

“Yep.”

Tammy lit a cigarette. Ben instinctively waved his hand at the smoke and she smirked a little. “These things will kill ya,” she said. “Don't pick the habit up.” She took a long drag.

“No worries,” Ben said. Tammy looked around, noted the materials for more grave boxes stacked along a back wall. In carefully organized piles were wood, barrels, and bags of lime. Small coffins were stacked beside the barrels, Tammy could see at a glance they were too small to have fit tall, stocky Gary. There was a wood box filled with other materials as well, Tammy could see some plastic sheeting sticking up a little, and a long table in front of all of it. She glanced back at Ben.

“You're prepared,” she said.

“We're working on it. We weren't set up to handle dead,” he said, and she could see the pull of grief for Gary in his eyes. “All right, let's go to the commissary and see if Travis is around so we can get you some supplies.”

Travis ran to the front gate, yanking his jacket on as he went. Some idiot on the other side was blaring an air horn. He whipped the door open, Amanda on his heels, and glared out at the noise-making duo on the other side. Amanda had her pistol leveled at them even as Travis had the door opening.

The man on the other side of the door raised his hands, taking his finger off the air horn's trigger. The petite woman behind him followed his example. Both were completely obscured by their snowmobile gear, the visors of their helmets down and covering their faces.

Travis reached through the door and jerked them both inside, closing and locking the front gate as quickly as he could. “Who are you?” he asked, his voice so calm that Amanda felt a little shiver at the back of her neck. He was furious, she could tell.

“Who the FUCK are you and your fucking air horns in the middle of the fucking zombie apocalypse, is what he means,” Amanda said, sharply. She lowered her pistol, but didn't tuck it away.

The man slowly lowered his hands, putting his air horn into the front pocket of his snowmobile suit, half sticking out. He slid up his visor, and the woman did the same. With a big pleasant smile that nonetheless caused a gut feeling of revulsion for Amanda, the man stuck his left hand out to Travis.

“Edmund Bender. But you can call me Ed. And this here is Lila, my wife.” Lila raised a hand in greeting. She looked more than a little terrified.

“Travis Green, and this is Amanda Johnson.” He shook Ed's hand briskly. Amanda settled her pistol into the holster and held her hand out to shake. Ed only seemed to notice her outstretched hand when Travis pointedly looked at it. Amanda made certain to shake Lila's hand as well.

“First rule if you want to stay here,” Amanda said firmly to the couple, “no air horns anywhere inside or near the entrance of the Fort. The biters are drawn to noise.”

“Oh, come on, they're all frozen by now,” Ed said, with a big blustery smile, and Amanda fiercely resisted the urge to punch him in his red, jerk face. She glanced at Travis and saw that he did not appear to be reacting at all.

“They are not, for some reason,” Travis said. “But we can talk about that more at the evening meeting. Come on, I'll take you to meet Eve.”

“You got this?” Amanda said, quietly, to Travis.

His face softened as he looked at her. “I got this.”

“Ok,” she said. “I'm gonna go work on the school some more, then.” She leaned up the barest amount and kissed him on the mouth. He was still grinning from ear to ear when he turned back to Benders.

“This way.”

The Benders settled in to the officer's quarters nearest Eve's house, the same quarters the trio had used when they'd first arrived. Travis found Ben waiting for him in the quartermaster's quarters when he led the Benders down that way for supplies.

“One of those, eh,” Ed said derisively half beneath his breath when he saw Tammy, before Tammy and Ben stood and introductions could be made.

Lila hoped miserably that no one had heard Ed. She hoped they could stay here at least a little while without trouble, but considering the looks Ed had given Eve and his comment - “Nice place you took for yourself here” - to the younger woman as he'd looked around Eve's house, she had a sick feeling things were going to get uncomfortable and it wasn't going to take as long as it usually did.

“Oh, Ed,” she whispered, and he gave her a sharp warning glare.

Travis went to the quartermaster's desk and pulled out his notebooks. “I'll get some supplies together for you guys and bring them over. Ben, wanna do the tour?”

“I can do that,” Ben said. “Again. Ben, the tour MASTER. Ben was a ranger, manly and alone in the wild, rugged and unshaven, but now Ben is a tour guide.”

“Dammit, Ben,” Travis began.

“This way, fair maiden and Ed,” Ben said, dramatically. He led them out of the quartermaster's quarters, closing the door behind them with a flourish.

“He was never rugged and manly,” Travis said, pained. “Or alone.”

“I wasn't thinking he was,” Tammy said, with a half smile. “So Ben tells me you are the Master of Stuff.”

“I'm sort of the de facto quartermaster, yes,” Travis said.

“I have some ideas about how to help,” Tammy said. “And we can put the store to use.”

Travis perked up visibly, and Tammy grinned.

Muskrat Love

Travis never slept well, so he usually got up, walked around the walls of the Fort looking for problems, checked the front gate by going up into the walkway over it, then went to to the Round Tower and used his binoculars to survey as far as he could see. Some nights he would stay up on the tower for a few hours star-gazing, until he was so cold he had to go in and get warm near the remnants of the evening fire in his and Ben's quarters.

Tonight, for the first time, Amanda was up on the Round Tower. He hadn't seen her from the ground because she'd made herself a bed from her camping mats and was laying there, fully bundled up and covered with more blankets, watching the sky in peace.

“Oh, I'm sorry,” he said reflexively. “I didn't mean to interrupt.”

She sat up and scooted over some, patting the mat next to her. “Come on. I brought cocoa.” She picked up a thermos in her mittened hand to show him.

“I have binoculars,” he said. “If you didn't bring yours.” He sat carefully next to her, close enough to be on the mat with her, far enough so he would only be in contact if she chose it. She gave him a look through her lashes, decidedly un-Amanda-like, then reached around him to tuck the blankets up around his waist and hers, and tucked her body closer to his, snugging up against his side with her head against his shoulder.

He stiffened in surprise, holding his breath, then very carefully managed his breathing to make sure he sounded normal, and forced himself to relax.

“It's cold,” she offered in explanation, and he nodded. That made sense to him. He didn't want her to get cold, so he slipped his arm around her to share his heat. She smiled up at him and he felt all of his insides clench and turn slippery. In the moonlight her eyes were pale as the moon itself; he knew they were blue as a cold spring morning in the daylight but in all their years of friendship he had never actually seen her this close in the darkness.

He blushed, and held his tongue, knowing no matter what he tried to say right now he'd sound like an idiot. He yanked his hat off with his free hand to try to cool his head off.

“Cocoa?” she asked sweetly, and he realized she was needling him, and wasn't sure about what.

He gave the most nonchalant nod he could manage and saw her suppress a grin. She poured their drinks in silence, handing him his tin cup filled with steaming hot cocoa without a word.

He took a quick drink and swallowed too hastily, making a strange, strangled noise. “Oh,” he gasped when he finished getting the sip down. “That's a lot of vodka in there.”

She grinned sideways up at him. “Maybe I'm trying to get you drunk.”

He stared at her, stuck, trying to figure out if she was teasing, in which case he should laugh in some easy fashion, or if she was serious, in which case laughing in her face would probably be insulting.

Travis settled for a short nod, his red, unruly curls sharply waving.

“How long have you been up here?” he asked, after a couple more sips, after his body relaxed a little more, allowing her to melt a little closer against him. She wasn't a small woman; she was tall and strong and was more likely to be able to drop Travis than he could probably drop her, but she fit very sweetly against him.  While she was apparently paying no attention to him, staring up at the sky and sipping her cocoa despite how close she was, he allowed himself to simply breathe in and enjoy her closeness.

“Maybe an hour.”

“You probably shouldn't be up here drinking in the cold alone,” he said, worried.

She put her mittened hand on his knee and he fell silent again.

“I'm not alone,” she said, reasonably. “I was waiting for you.”

“Ben-” he began, meaning to explain if she'd expected both of them, Ben rarely woke up with him.

“I know,” she said, patting his knee, and let her hand lay there.

“Amanda,” he said, his voice sounding both stern and nervous to his own ear. He took a moment to make sure he had the next words right.

“Yes?” she asked, sipping, staring up at him through her lashes again, her face suspiciously innocent, her eyes bright and amused. He wasn't usually good at discerning intent in these moments but he felt sure she wasn't laughing at him, regardless of what was amusing her about him.

“Do you want... are you... do you... want a cuddle?” he finally said, veering off from what he'd actually intended to ask. “Human beings require touch,” he added hastily in case she thought he didn't understand why she'd want a cuddle.

She set her cup very carefully down next to her thermos then turned her attention back to him. “A cuddle?” she asked, and this time he could tell she was laughing.

“I mean...” he began, but couldn't get his words together.

“Travis, are you attracted to me?” she asked. He felt his whole body move in an instinctive motion that felt like a bowstring being released.

“No,” he said before he could consider.

She leaned back to look up at him better, pulling her hand off of his knee as if she hadn't expected that answer. He quickly grabbed her hand, released it in case she didn't want him to hold her hand, then took it again. This time she gripped his hand, perhaps to keep him from releasing it again.

He met her eyes, deciding to toss himself right over some sort of cliff that he could feel as clearly as if it were a physical reality. “I am not just attracted to you,” he said, quickly, before he could frighten himself off with fears of losing her friendship. This was Amanda, after all, fiercely loyal to her friends – she might not feel the same way, but she wouldn't tear her friendship away from him.

“Ok,” she said, clearly a little confused. “Wait, are you attracted to me AND someone else, or are you MORE than attracted to me?”

I love you, he thought. I love you more than language works to discuss. I love you like there are atoms of loving you that I need to breathe in to live. “I am not attracted to someone else,” he said.

“Ok,” she said again. She relaxed against him again. “So you like-like me,” she said, grinning. “You big dork.”

He grinned back in relief. He thanked the universe he hadn't somehow catastrophically screwed this all up. She wriggled around a little until she was straddling him, facing him. Her mittened hands, cold and wet in spots from the snow, framed his face and she smiled at him from her new vantage point. He blushed again, harder, knowing she could feel his body's response to her. “You wanna go out some time?” she whispered.

He gave a short bark of laughter. “No.” She gave a gasp of faux-outrage and he grabbed her hands to hold her in place. “It's cold out,” he said in explanation.

“Are you saying you want to go in?” she said, primly, her eyes wicked. His mouth opened but he couldn't make words work, again. She leaned forward and kissed him very gently, her lips soft and cold against his, her mouth warm and tasting of cocoa and vodka. He wrapped his arms around her, half in fear he was dreaming.

She broke their kiss to take a shaking breath. “Oh, Travis, you are in such trouble,” she whispered.

“Sure,” he said, agreeing to whatever trouble she had for him.

With that she dumped a handful of icy snow down his back and stood when he froze in shock. She ran over to the stairs of the tower and turned back, her face alive with the trouble-making she loved so much, waiting.

“Well, ya big lug, your move,” she said, her smile flashing in the darkness. He was on his feet and after her in the space of a heartbeat, her squeal of joy streaming behind them as he chased her down the stairs.

He caught her at the base of the tower and swung her into his arms, silencing her whoop of laughter with another kiss. This time she wrapped her arms around him as tightly as he'd held her. He didn't dare speak, in case one of them woke up and left the other bereft in this space.

“So take me to bed, and we'll talk over breakfast,” she said.

“I don't want to talk,” he said, before he could censor himself. “I mean, I suck at talking.”

“Shhh, that's talking,” she said.

He took her hand and hurried to do as she'd asked.