“You don’t owe me anything beyond what we agreed to. Supplies for labor.”
I hope he doesn’t lean too hard into this “owing his life” thing. The last thing I need is somebody following me around, thinking I’m a hero.
I keep alert, making sure the cougar is gone for good. Scanning around, a half-eaten rabbit in a snare trap at the edge of the garden catches my attention. “That could be part of the problem.” I point to the mangled rabbit. “The cougar may think of this area as a food source.”
“I put those there to keep the rabbits out of the garden. Never thought it would bring cougars.” Zach laughs nervously. I’m glad he’s getting over the shock and can laugh a little.
Zach wiggles a finger in his ear. “I still hear ringing.”
“I’m sorry I had to shoot right at you. The plan was to shoot straight up to scare it, but then it started charging.”
“I won’t lie. The gun blast scared the crap out of me.” Zach gets up and jumps around, shaking the tension out of his arms and shoulders. “But I think I’m okay now. Let’s keep going.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. It’ll help me take my mind off it.”
He finishes the tour of the outside grounds, showing me the rest of the little world he’s built here. His resourcefulness is impressive. He’s what I’d call a hard-core tinkerer. A MacGyver. I’ve known a few people like that in my life. They’re good to have around in a pinch.
“Where did you learn how to do all this stuff?” I ask.
“My dad owned a repair shop, and I helped him out a lot. I guess it rubbed off on me. He was also an amateur inventor.”
“That explains some of it, but you clearly have a gift for mechanics.”
Zach shrugs. “I guess I’ve always liked taking things apart and putting them back together. My mom would get so annoyed, until she realized things ended up better when I was done.” He lets out a sad laugh and has a distant look in his eyes.
He really does have a gift. With luck, he could stay here indefinitely. But that’s just it. He’ll need a lot of luck. The world is a nasty place now. If you have something worth taking, people will try to take it. Youneedto protect it. His defenses are enough to hold off a few disorganized looters and an Infected or two. But he couldn’t withstand a real assault.
For about five seconds, I contemplate taking him with me. Like I said, he might be good in a pinch. But then I’m hit by a wave of terrible memories.
I was traveling with Connor, a fellow courier. When we were attacked on the road, he fought back, but I froze up. All I could do was watch him die as he fell off a bridge a hundred feet to his death. He sacrificed his life to save me, and I’ve never forgiven myself for that. I can’t ask anyone to die for me ever again.
Nope. I travel alone. No exceptions.
“Hey, Aiden, you there?”
I come back from that dark place. “Huh?”
“You spaced out for a second. You okay?”
“Yeah.” Memory buried. Focused again. “Let’s get to work.”
*
Zach has no end of projects. First, we work on moving the huge rain barrel he told me about. It’s awkwardly large and heavy. Lugging it over from the nearby house takes our entire combined strength. And it doesn’t exactly make my ribs feel great.
Once it’s next to an overflowing rain barrel, Zach sets up a siphon hose between them. The water in the small barrel flows into the big one until their levels equalize. He has this natural intuition for how things work.
Zach puts his fists on his hips and admires the work. “That’ll hold ten times the water now. Thanks.”
“You’re the brains. I’m just the brawn.” I smile.
The good news is, he’s no longer grabbing for his rifle every time I get near. Closer up and in the sunlight, I get a better sense of what he looks like. He’s not bad-looking per se. He’s just—how did he put it—a mountain man? His wispy beard covers most of his face in weird patches. Layers of dirt cover every inch of his skin, and his hair is a disaster, constantly getting in his eyes. His clothes are all dirty and frumpy, really adding to his hobo aesthetic. But sometimes, in the right light, at the right angle, maybe he’s kind of halfway attractive. Not that it’s remotely relevant to my current situation. I simply need to finish his tasks, get the supplies, and then go. I’ll never see him again.
Speaking of Zach’s tasks, the next one is fixing the chicken coop. One entire side fell over and was too heavy for Zach to lift himself. It’s easier than lifting the rain barrel, but it still doesn’t feel fantastic on my ribs. Maybe agreeing to manual labor wasn’t the best idea.
Rounding up the chickens is interesting. Many are still in the coop, apparently happy with the shelter and soft straw. Lots of others are milling about nearby. Some appear to be victims of certain predators we’ve recently become familiar with. Random feathers and miscellaneous chicken parts are all that remain.
