Chapter 20
John tossed Bodey and me chunks of jerky from his pack. “I think it’s a good thing this store hasn’t been looted. It will be even better if the grocery stores haven’t, but that’s wishful thinking.” He stuffed a strip of dry meat between his teeth.
I tore off a section of my own and chewed its unrelenting texture, grateful I had something to fill my stomach. “Thank you.”
Glancing at me, John pushed to his feet. “Can you two handle being alone for a little while? I need to look around and get a feel for what we’re doing here.” He didn’t say anything about losing his safety zone, his home base, because of me. Nothing in his mannerisms suggested anger toward me. Why wouldn’t he be? I would. I knew myself enough to recognize I would definitely hold a grudge.
John slung a bag over his arm and gave us last minute instruction. “It’s morning, so keep the door open in here and you should have enough light. I’ll be back as soon as possible, hopefully with more food and water.”
Bodey and I nodded. I yawned. Resting had been what I needed. Now when Mom crossed my thoughts I didn’t spring eternal tears, only misted a little. I could handle mist. The stormy rain did me under.
Disappearing around the side of the door, John missed my grateful smile. My knee had stopped throbbing sometime during the night, but moving too fast sent sharp pain in shafts up and down my leg. Yet the injury paled because I’d slept inside and hadn’t been safe in a long time.
Even with full daylight outside, the room’s dim atmosphere lent a dusky kind of sensation. I blinked my eyes hard and rubbed at the corners.
I drew up my uninjured leg and leaned my cheek against the smooth part of my thigh where it met my knee. Crossing my arms around my shin, I sighed. Bodey still hadn’t approached me, almost like he forgot I was there.
“So…” Great, my best line ever. How could I be so eloquent? “What I mean is, um…” Dang those ever-ready tears. They weren’t because of my mom or all the stupid stuff happening or even because of the pain in my leg. I teared up because, quite simply, I had Bodey Christianson all to myself for the first time ever and I couldn’t use full sentences.
He already thought of me like a sister. Why not add more to his platonic impression of me? Why not make myself out to be incompetent or slow?
I rolled my eyes and turned so my forehead rested on my knee and my tears could fall into my lap. Blowing things with Bodey compiled with the pressure of guilt over him and his dad having to leave their house, with Mom’s inability to keep herself safe because of her responsibility to keep me safe, and with the loss of Jeanine who had so much more to give.
Yeah, my tears started slow and quiet, but my sobs came in like a thunderous band of bass and cellos. My shoulders shook and I dragged in deep gasps but couldn’t get control of myself.
Arms encircled me. I jumped.
“Shhh. You’re okay. I got you.” Bodey turned me until I was cradled in his arms. He turned, lying down with me tight in his embrace, and gently pulled my face to his shoulder.
Almost against my will – except not at all – I wrapped my arms around his waist and pressed my nose into his warmth. He was solid. He was there. He wasn’t dead. He wasn’t even hurt.
He allowed me to cry, but my sobs lessened and I didn’t feel so hopeless.
Sniffing, I turned my face to the side, resting my cheek on his chest. His heart beat thudded strong and steadfast beneath my face. If I had the guts, I could turn my head and kiss the spot where his heart was. But I had less guts than a horse fly. At least right then.
I could be blunt, but not aggressive.
“Why aren’t your mom and sister with you, Bodey?” Would he notice if I traced the muscle lines under his shirt with my finger? I placed my hand on his chest opposite my face and made the smallest circles with my index finger, like it was an afterthought and I wasn’t focusing my entire being on the small connection.
“They went to town for some groceries. Mom had this thing about shopping with Shayla. Girls’ time, you know?” His voice came out husky and I inhaled sharp but short. Maybe he was as affected by me as I was him? Or maybe I was just allowing the hopeful sensations to crash over me, tainting everything. He made me believe better was possible.
Or it was hard for him to talk about his missing family. I understood the difficulties myself.
I lowered my gaze. “I’m sure they’re making their way up…” But if they did, they would return to a burned down home and no husband or father or brother or son waiting.
Because of me.
“I’m sorry. I showed up at your place and ruined everything for you guys.” Tears, again? Did I have any other way to show I was upset? Apparently, I only allowed myself to cry my way through the end of the world. I closed my eyes for a moment to stop the flow. He’d have a soaked shirt before I got off him. If I got off him.
His chest shook, a deep chuckle resonating under his ribs. “You think you ruined everything? Did you drop a particular bomb yourself or did you order this attack?”
I drew my eyebrows together, opening my eyes and tilting my head back for a glimpse of his face. “No, I mean…”
“I know what you meant. And I’m serious. This isn’t your fault. Any of it. I’m glad we could help you with your mom and escape safely.” His hand rubbed up and down my back, his fingers spread wide. “They’re not out in that mess out there. I don’t think they’re… alive. But Dad… Dad gets to believe they did, okay?”
I nodded because that’s what you do. “So what have you been doing? I didn’t see you at track. They had the mid-season awards banquet for Coach Simpson. He retired, remember? You didn’t go.” My tone felt accusatory, but I wanted to know. I’d worn my favorite blue dress and had even asked Mom to braid my hair. And Bodey hadn’t shown.
My finger didn’t stop dancing on his chest, the small taps and twirls almost involuntary. He fought back, the warmth of his palm traced my spine. If I forgot how to talk, it’d be a small sacrifice for him to keep going.
He paused, like choosing which question to answer. “We’ve been hearing about a possible attack, but the one we expected wasn’t scheduled for another couple months.” He spoke quietly, as if the walls had ears.
“You knew this was going to happen?” Disbelief warred with my loyalty to him. “You didn’t say anything to warn anyone?” How was that right?
“No, it’s not like that. Everything you hear on the Circuit is rumor or needs to be treated like a possible rumor. We’re not even sure who attacked this time. The one set up for this fall was actually our own government. They planned on coming in and bombing around all the military bases but keep the bases intact to give the appearance we didn’t have anything left.” He paused, letting that horror seep in, skimming my back – up and down, up and down.
“Attack their own country? Their own people?” The potential was unprecedented. But what if it was true? No one had fought them when they brought the stupid disease over the border – over and over and over. No one had said anything as thousands and millions had died, filling the streets. No one ever said anything – too worried about offending people.
Bodey shifted. I moved to sit up. He probably didn’t want to hold me any longer. But he pulled me closer.
My eyes widened and the tingling in my skin everywhere we touched zinged like electric shock with my awareness.
“When no one sticks to their agreements and turns on each other, you don’t have to stretch to see they’ll even turn on themselves.” He sighed, his chest heaving. “From the radio chatter we couldn’t figure out who bombed who first.”
“Do you know everyone bombed? Where can we go? Is anywhere safe?” What if America was the only stupid suicidal country? Bombing our own land. I never heard of any attacks or any wars on American soil in history class. But only a few years of the past in class didn’t cover much except pop culture, and who cared what diva dated who when?
“No one is left. Supposedly, the governments of the
countries down for a while already have small communities cropping up, but there hasn’t really been a way to verify anything that we’ve heard.” He yawned, squeezing me. “There’s supposedly a series of bunkers across the country outfitted to be used as concentration camps but the government is worthless now, right? So I don’t see them being used.”
Concentration camps… in our country. Dad had mentioned them once or twice, but never in a good way. Why would the US have them?
I swallowed, unsettled and not only because of his hand tracing patterns over my jacket and shirt. “What do you think will happen?”
“I don’t know. Dad says the best thing to do is to keep our heads down.” His words disappeared as he bent and placed a kiss on my forehead. “We’ll be okay. As long as Dad’s with us. He knows what to do.”
John was a commodity Bodey shared willingly. I didn’t know if I deserved their help. I hadn’t been much use to Mom and my skills weren’t exactly in abundance.
What did he mean by keep our heads down? I doubted causing groups of men to chase after you failed to meet the definition.
I blew out my air. Oh, man, it was turning into a long end of the world.