The whole looting experience was horrific, to be honest. After my uncle died, I stayed locked in his home for as long as I could. But after a few weeks, my dwindling food supply forced me to venture out and start scavenging. I could tell the instant I went into a home if the owners had skipped town or stayed and hunkered down. It was the smell. I don’t like to think about it.
Looters had already done a number on the town. They took every car with keys and siphoned the fuel from the rest. Picked every shop clean. Luckily, most of the houses were still untouched. Probably because of all the corpses. And the sick ones.
Going into each house was terrifying. Some were empty or only had dead people. In a few, one sick person remained, but never more than one. Survival of the fittest, I guess. They don’t seem to have qualms about killing each other. When I found a house like that, I’d open the door and run to the bank. They would eventually find their way out and wander into the forest. That sick man last night may very well have been one of the ones I set free, surviving in the forest somehow.
Once the houses were empty of people, I stripped them of everything useful and carted it all back to the vault. It turned out to be a good idea. Over the next month, looters took care of anything I left behind. Every time I saw somebody stroll into town, I’d go hide in the vault. That was all before I had the Wilsons and my armor-plated bank lobby. Now, I don’t put up with that crap.
With Aiden occupied, I’m free to start cooking. “Hey—um—I’m going to be making some rabbit stew. Let me know if you need anything else.” A weird laugh escapes my lips.Geez, I’m like a giggling schoolgirl.
“Will do,” Aiden says flatly, not noticing my awkwardness or just ignoring it.
He cleans up the scrapes on his arms and face while I finish skinning the second rabbit. The whole while, I keep stealing glances at him, half to keep my eye on him and half because I can’t help myself.
With the rabbit cleaned and deboned, I cut it into chunks. The teller’s desk is my kitchen. The long marble slab makes an excellent surface for prepping food. A stock of dishes, pots and pans, spices, and cooking supplies are all lined up along it.
Aiden’s finished tending to his wounds, and now he’s hovering, hands in pockets, watching what I’m doing. Those pale-blue eyes pierce into me. I’m so distracted I nearly cut my finger off.
“Hey, if you want something to do, you could get a fire started.” I point over to the pile of firewood and wood stove set up behind the teller’s desk, next to my bed.
“Sure. I can do that.”
The cast-iron stove has a flat surface on the top. It provides heat and a space to cook. A pipe extends up to the ceiling to vent smoke. What fun that was getting the stove all the way to the bank, taking me hours to drag it from a nearby house.
I grab a stack of bound twenties off the cart and throw it to Aiden. “Here. For kindling.”
It gets a laugh out of him, so it was worth every penny.Every penny. See what I did there? Yep, my mind tells jokes to itself. I’ve been alone for too long.
Once the fire has heated the cooktop, I sear the rabbit meat in a large Dutch oven. For the rest of the stew, I add a few jars of vegetables and potatoes. Some fresh thyme and rosemary from the garden help to enhance the flavors. I mix it all up and let it simmer. It’s a beef stew recipe I used to make with my mom but substituted with rabbit. It reminds me of her.
The scent permeates the room, and Aiden breathes it in. “Wow, I haven’t smelled something that delicious in a long time.”
“Thanks.” I’m trying hard not to blush ateverynice thing he says.
He comes up right next to me to get another sniff. My mind fills with conflicting emotions. Attraction and repulsion are all mixed into one. He’s too close, and it’s freaking me out. I lurch back, unconsciously grabbing for the rifle slung over my back.
Aiden backs off, hands up and eyes wide. “Sorry.”
“I’m—Look, I’m gonna need some space.”
“I’ll keep my distance.”
“Have a seat.” I point to the lobby chair. “The food will be ready soon.”
I’ve spent the last year surviving on my own, not trusting anyone. Caution has kept me alive. I can’t turn that off like a switch just because some cute guy rolls into town, even if he’s traveling to the exact place I want to get to. It’ll take some time to get used to this. I have to let things run their course.
I clean up the kitchen in silence as the stew cooks. Once the flavors have melted together, and the meat is tender, I ladle out a decent portion into two bowls and hand him one.
“Thanks,” Aiden says as he takes the bowl. Now that he’s cleaned up his scrapes, it’s easy to make out four long scratch marks running down his right arm. They look like defensive wounds.
Oh god. What if he’s sick and doesn’t show it yet?
I move quickly to the other side of the lobby, hoping he doesn’t notice my reaction.
“You don’t need to worry about those.” Aiden points to the scratches. “I’m immune. That happened a week ago, and I’m fine. You’re probably immune, too, if you’ve made it this long.”
Immune? Is that even a thing? I suppose it explains why some people have survived. I assumed they were all isolated and lucky, like me. Being immune would be nice and all, but I’ve never been scratched. So I’m not so sure.
“How do you know you’re immune?” I ask.
