“Yeah, I’ll keep it going.” Artemis’s shift would be over soon, and I needed to sober up before taking over. I heard the rasp of Macon’s zipper and then the symphony of him relieving himself in the underbrush. Returning to the haloed glow of the fire, he laid himself out on his sleeping bag, yawned like a bear, and was snoring within minutes. I was jealous of anyone who could fall asleep that easily. I could only manage a deep sleep every couple of days, and usually only with the aid of narcotics.
I took out my supplies and rolled a couple of cigarettes in between tending the fire. While I smoked, I watched Kitten’s ribcage rise and fall with every breath. His lips were rather pretty when he wasn’t hurling insults at me, and honestly, they were pretty even when he was.
I wasn’t going to get attached to him though, no more than the others. I’d keep him safe and fed until we got to Atlanta, but any commitment beyond that was a losing game.
I was done with losing.
SIX
KITTEN
There was a rhythm to the scavengers’days. Macon, usually the first to rise, took over tending the fire shortly after dawn. Artemis went out to hunt while Teresa prepared breakfast–I helped with that. Gizmo crawled out of his tented tarp contraption around the time food was ready, which was also about the same time Cipher materialized from the woods and either Artemis or Macon replaced him to take watch.
After everyone was fed and watered, we packed up camp. Someone put out the fire, the trash was buried, and then we set to walking. Cipher scouted ahead of the group with his machete in hand to clear a path through the brush for the rest of us to follow. Macon brought up the rear, armed with an axe, and helped Gizmo carry his wheelbarrow over the rough patches. For two days, we didn’t come across another living soul, but even still, none of them let their guard down or deviated from the path they’d set.
Cipher was too quiet when he moved. I usually didn’t know he was right next to me until he called it to my attention. And although his voice was deep, he spoke softly. Most of the time, I didn’t hear what he was saying the first time around and had to ask him to repeat himself. Whenever that happened, he accused me of daydreaming, and I let him believe that was the case.
On our third day of travel, we stopped earlier in the afternoon than usual and set up camp. Cipher said he had a surprise for us all and led us on a short hike to where there was a waterfall spilling over a cascading tumble of rocks and gathering in a crystal-clear pool at its base. The summer heat meant that the water was refreshingly cool instead of just frigid as we stripped down to our underwear and climbed in.
Little Miss Purrfect occupied herself by hunting grasshoppers and other insects nearby, Artemis and Macon scaled the rocks to the top of the waterfall and jumped into the deepest part of the pool, and Cipher remained on guard, glancing over at us from time to time as if doing double duty as our life guard and sentry.
He did that a lot, I’d noticed, separated himself from the rest of the pack, choosing not to participate in order to stand watch. Gizmo often opted out as well, but he seemed to prefer tinkering with his gadgets.
“Aren’t you going to swim?” I asked Cipher, who was now smoking a cigarette on the rocky ledge that surrounded us.
“Don’t want to get my leg wet,” he said and thumped it with one hand.
“Then take it off,” I said and splashed him, forcing him to cup both hands over his cigarette so it didn’t get wet. “Come on, dad.”
I’d started calling him that whenever he acted too serious for his age, which was most of the time.
“How am I going to rescue you from danger with only one leg?” he asked.
“I’ll protect you.” I stood in the water and braced my hands on both hips like I was a caped superhero.
His gaze slid across my bare chest and down my stomach before flicking up to my eyes again. Thank God this water was cold because the heat that swept through me was intense.
“Let’s go, old man.” I splashed him again.
“Fine, brat,” he said moodily and wedged the butt of his cigarette between two rocks. He slowly disarmed himself, unbuckling and unstrapping his various leathers and setting aside his weapons, away from the water but still nearby. The machete he set right at the pool’s edge, then yanked off his t-shirt and removed his boot and sock. His cargo pants were last to go, and I watched the slow production until he was wearing only his briefs, which weirdly belonged to my brother, but I tried not to get hung up on that.
“You got an amputee kink?” he asked as he sat down to remove his right leg.
“Maybe,” I said. I definitely found him fascinating.
“This has got to be the world’s saddest strip tease,” he said as he laid his leg on top of his clothing.
I had nothing to say in response, but I admired the muscles in his shoulders and upper arms as he scooted to the edge of the pool and sunk into the water.
“Fuck, that’s cold,” he said.
“It’ll shrink your pecker.”
“Good thing I’ve got some length to spare,” he said haughtily.
For that comment, I dunked him, and he came up spluttering. “Cheap shot, Kitten. I’ve only got one leg.”
He made a grab for me, and I hopped along the bottom of the pool, careful to avoid the sharp points of rocks underneath us. He was quick, though, and determined, so it wasn’t long before he’d grabbed me with both arms and body-slammed me into the water. Then Macon came over and showed us both who was the king of the castle, so we ganged up on him until we managed to take him down too. Macon lifted me over his shoulders like a strongman and threw me across the pool, and I took the opportunity to swim under the water and grab hold of Cipher’s ankle, which scared the bejesus out of him, even though he tried to act tough about it.
