* * *
Hours later, Zach had made some kind of stew from freeze dried beef and canned vegetables. It was tasty enough that I forgot that it came out of cans and packages. I even licked the spoon when it was all gone.
Kara said, “We’re going to have to start growing things. Not next year. But maybe in a couple. A garden. A big one. And we’ll have to can things.”
The future. It frightened me. Kara saw a future where we set up as some kind of family. I wasn’t even used to being in the same room with them. What if I got accustomed to them? What if I started to love them? What if something happened to them? What if I was alone again?
The fear must have shown in my face because Zach made a noise and reached a hand toward me as I sat in the bed. I put the bowl and spoon quickly down on the night stand. I had changed into loose jeans and a looser baseball jersey they had procured from someone’s house. So I stood up and offered to clean up.
Kara scoffed inelegantly and gathered up dishes herself. She was using the apartment that the hotel manager had lived in. She put them on a tray and said curiously, “Why does the water still work?”
“It won’t for long,” Zach said, his expression intent on mine. “The electricity that allowed the reservoirs to fill up is off. Once the levels drop the water will stop. There’s about a dozen other things that can happen, too, to make it stop. We’re lucky right now.”
“Lucky,” I repeated. I went to the door and inched around Zach to stand on the walkway. Was it that obvious that I didn’t want to touch him? The previous black clouds had blown clean away and left the skies clear. The sun was starting its descent, and it was another brilliant orange-red, Oregon sunset.
“Maybe you should go back to bed,” Zach said softly.
I watched Kara walk down the stairs. “A little exercise won’t kill me,” I said just as softly. I put my feet into flip flops that they had provided as well and shuffled to the stairs. I just wanted to walk around a little to get my heart pumping. I was weak, but I didn’t want to baby myself. Babying myself didn’t seem to do anything productive. Zach followed along after a disapproving grunt.
Pausing at the top of the steps, I thought about my strength level. We were on the second floor, and I thought I could get down the stairs, but I wasn’t certain if I would get back up by myself.
Zach seemed to be a mind reader. He said gruffly, “If you want to go down, go ahead. If you can’t make it back up, I’ll carry you.”
My face wrinkled in a frown that he couldn’t see from behind me. “Thank you,” I said faintly. I would make it up the stairs by myself, even if I had to crawl.
So I went down, slowly and carefully, minding the pull of healing flesh from both my shoulder and my back. Neither wounds were incapacitating; the prolonged fever had sapped my strength to nothingness. I came to the bottom and resisted the effort to wipe the beads of sweat that had appeared away from my upper lip. “I just want to walk around the motel, okay?” I said to Zach. “Build me back up.”
“Okay,” he said, and even I could tell that the word contained the resistance he felt in it. He didn’t approve, and he didn’t like it. That was okay. He didn’t have to.
I meandered around the motel parking lot on the side and passed the office/apartment where Kara was merrily banging pots and pans together. She looked out the window and waved cheerfully at us. Zach kept behind me and didn’t say anything.
I didn’t say anything to him because I was beyond uncomfortable. He kept…looking…at me. I mean, I didn’t know what to say. I wasn’t a raving beauty. I didn’t have boogers hanging from my nose. I had checked in the mirror. My hair was still shoulder length, and my eyes were still gray. I was a little skinnier than I had been. I didn’t get it.
Climbing up a half flight of stairs to the back of the motel had me breathing a little heavy. I stopped and sat on a brick wall. Zach crossed his arms over his chest and looked off to the north.
Finally, he said, “We want to go south for the winter. Kara and I want you to come with us.”
Again, I was at a loss for words. He’d said they wouldn’t leave me. Of course, I hadn’t said I would come with them. Finally, I nodded shortly. It had been my plan to head south anyway. It would be better to go with them. Frankly, I wasn’t sure if I could go without them.
“Good,” he said.
I rose to my feet and continued my trek around the motel. Oh, I was determined to make it. I could almost feel waves of censure emanating from Zach. It made me all the more dogged. (Sounded like a challenge to me.) We got closer to the fire pit that he had told me about. It was a large thing, ringed by the bricks, covered with a grill. It looked as though the motel would light fires there on those windy nights that required their guests to enjoy all the aspects of the Oregon coastline.
The fire was a pile of glowing red coals that radiated heat even to where I stood. There was a large covered pot there with what must have been the remains of the stew Zach had made. Sitting on the grill right next to the pot, was a blackened skull. Its dark eyes stared endlessly.
I saw it and recognized it for what it meant. Immediately I couldn’t move.
Zach muttered something about stubbornness before he realized that I was frozen in place. He looked at the fire pit and cursed. Then he gathered me up in his arms and ran for the other side of the motel. Calling to Kara, he hesitated at the office door.
We both sighed with relief when she stuck her head out the door.
“Time to go,” Zach said. “We can’t stay here.”
Kara didn’t question his tone. She only nodded.
And I trembled in Zach’s arms, knowing that the other man was still alive, still about. Perhaps he was watching us at that very moment. I made Zach put me down, and I threw up the entire contents of my stomach.