He clears his throat, reaches for his water bottle in his backpack, unscrews the cap, and holds it out to me.
“I have my own,” I murmur.
“Just drink.”
I hesitate, then take it. “Thanks.”
I take a sip, barely tasting the warm, metallic water, and hand it back. He takes a swig, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and goes back to leaning against the wall. The air is charged, static electricity waiting for a spark, but neither of us strikes the match.
We just sit in the semi-darkness, alive, safe, and worlds apart.
TWENTY-ONE
DAKOTA
Afternoon bleeds into evening without a word.
Julien’s hunched over his project. He’s shaved bark from a branch he dragged in earlier, piling it into a rusted pie tin he found under a stack of water-damaged comics.
The lighter sparks. A tiny flame catches the tinder, casting his face in flickering orange. He pulls two cans from his pack and punctures the lids with his knife before setting them directly on the small fire.
“Dinner,” he says. “Gourmet chef’s special.”
“Five stars.” My voice comes out raspy.
The tiny space fills with the smell of warming soup, almost homey if you ignore the monsters waiting outside and the chasm between us.
Minutes later, the soup bubbles, spitting droplets into the fire. He wraps his sleeve around one can, lifts it off, and slides it across the floorboards, stopping inches from my boot.
“Careful. Hot.”
“Thanks.” I blow on the steaming can. “For this. And for earlier.”
He nods once, focusing intently on his own meal. “Anyone would’ve done it.”
Not anyone. Just him.
I wait until the can cools down to swallow a spoonful, scalding my tongue. “Tasty.”
“It’s canned.”
“I have low standards.”
The corner of his mouth twitches.
We eat without looking at each other. I scrape the bottom of the can with my finger, catching every last drop of warmth before the night chill sets in.
“Think they’re still out there?” I set my empty can aside.
Julien rises to peer through a crack in the wall. “Few stragglers.”
“When do we leave?”
“First light. We’re close. One hour on foot if we’re lucky.”
Where we’ll hopefully meet the others, and then I’m not his burden anymore.
“Did I… did I slow you down today?” I ask. “When I followed you instead of running?”
