Page 41 of Claimed By Ruin

“Let’s just hurry up.”

Caitlin, driven by mercy or maybe God, decided to show me a bit of favor today and said nothing.

We loaded the zombie into the wheelbarrow, rolled it to the burn pit, and started the fire.

It was a little more than half an hour of work, but my ribs burned, and the calluses on my palms had cracked.

It really wasn’t that bad, just the adrenaline leaving my system, making me feel a bit more of that tussle. It would pass.

But the ache lingered as day stretched towards night and Jack still wasn’t back.

My side throbbed, and the mottled bruise I found that night explained why. My hands shook as I changed into my pajamas, and as I pulled up the pants, I wondered if the snugness was real. I touched my stomach.

It was my body but it wasn’t. Was there a slight hardness there, the beginnings of a bump?

Had my carelessness today hurt my baby?

I tightened my hold on my stomach, not caring about the rolls of fat, just needing to touch that bump. To know that he was okay.

But I didn’t know that.

I wrapped my arms tight around my body, held myself, pretending it was Jack instead, even though I didn’t know when—if—he would come back.

That thought haunted me as I lay in bed, even though my brain screamed it wasn’t my concern.

Jack was a big boy.

He could take care of himself.

I told myself that as I lay in my obscenely empty bed. The light of the stars was the only thing piercing through the darkness.

I was sure that was my last thought before I finally succumbed to sleep.

“Asia!”

I sat up instantly, Lourdes’s voice piercing through my sleep fog.

It was morning, and she was at my door, the tenor of her voice telling me that something was wrong.

Something was always wrong.

“Come quick!”

TWELVE

Jack

“Holy cow!” Miles yelled.

He was off the porch before I came to a complete stop, the screen door slamming in his wake.

I rolled down the window. “Not bad, right?”

I put the brand-new, extended cab pickup in Park and hopped out, the new-car smell following me, reminding me of a world that no longer existed.

The cab and back were overflowing, and it wasn’t even a fraction of what I found. Miles walked around taking in the cases of canned goods, formula, diapers ranging from newborn to toddler. A flat box with a crib I couldn’t wait to put together. A new tool set and portable battery. Two small rifles and several boxes of .22 ammo. And clothes in every size I could find.

“Where did you get all this?” Miles said, walking around the truck, his face bright. “We scavenged almost everywhere.”