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August smirked at my expression. “Close your mouth before something flies in.”

“It’s just so…”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“But it is.”

August rolled his eyes. “Come and meet my grandma.”

Standing in this house, I was suddenly aware of how I must look. I didn’t want to meet August’s grandma. Not until I’d scrubbed myself clean and found better clothes. Clothes without holes that didn’t smell like they hadn’t been washed in some time, which they hadn’t. Not unless you counted the recent soaking in the red rain.

Sensing my reluctance, August left no room for argument, tugging me after him down the long corridor until we reached a door at the end. He pushed it open without announcing our presence, two women turning as we stepped inside. I assumed the younger of the two, the one that was standing, was Laura. She had blue eyes, short brown hair, and a smile you immediately warmed to and found yourself returning.

The second woman was older, much older, her hair completely silver. Her face told a tale of many years lived that hadn’t always been easy. Despite that, I could see the similarity to August in her bone structure and the shape of her nose. She didn’t smile, her expression curious as she spotted me hanging back behind her grandson. The smile came when she switched her attention to August. “Come here, you,” she said, holding out her arms.

His walk to her chair was brisk—almost a run. When he reached her, he bent to kiss both cheeks. I followed at a slower, more measured pace, feeling not only grimy but also like an intruder at a reunion that would have been better without me. Laura seemed to think so too. She slipped discreetly from the room, and I only wished I could do the same. Instead, I lingered and pretended to be interested in the decor to avoid being caught staring while they spoke softly to each other.

“This is Keaton,” August eventually said. I turned back to find August’s grandma studying me, her head cocked to one side. She might be old, but there was no disguising the intelligence in her assessing stare. “Keaton, this is Caroline, my grandma.”

I cleared my throat. “It’s nice to meet you. You have a beautiful house.”

She nodded, a spark of amusement lighting up her expression. “Thank you. I thought so when I stole it.”

I looked to August to see if she was joking. “It’s not quite how it sounds,” he said. “She didn’t grow up here, but once the apocalypse hit, any safe place that was empty was up for grabs. She just happened to find one of the better ones.”

“Once the apocalypse hit? But that would make you…?”

“Eighty-nine,” Caroline clarified. “I was twelve when everything went to shit, just a couple of weeks shy of my thirteenth birthday. We escaped London through the Underground. Well, my dad and I did. My mother and brother, unfortunately, didn’t make it. They got bitten and weren’t immune. We traveled for a couple of weeks, and then we happened upon this place. My dad built all the fences to make it safe, and the rest is history.”

I was still shaking my head at having met someone who’d been there when the world had gone crazy. “What was it like before?”

“Quiet,” Caroline said with a slight smile. “Uncomplicated. Not that I thought so at the time. I was a typical teenager who thought the be-all and end-all of life was whether a boy was interested in me.” The smile turned sad. “My childhood ended when the red rain came, but at least I survived.” She shifted slightly, a look of pain crossing her face. She patted August’s hand where it rested on the arm of her chair. “And if I hadn’t, this one would never have come to be, and wouldn’t that be a crying shame?”

“Yes,” I said, the answer leaving my lips before I could think better of it, heat immediately rushing to my face.

My answer seemed to please Caroline, and she sat up a little straighter. “Well, isn’t that something?” She gave August a little shove. “You can leave me to my nap now, and then we’ll have a proper dinner. All three of us. I’m looking forward to getting to know Keaton. Take him on a tour. A proper one. Make sure you take him shopping. The poor boy’s going to be showing parts of him I’m sure he’d rather I not see if he gets any more holes in his clothes. I won’t mind, but he probably will.”

“Shopping?” August was already tugging me from the room, though, and didn’t seem inclined to answer my question as he pulled me into a room on the other side of the staircase. My mouth dropped open at the sight that met me. Tall shelves dominated the room, each one full to the brim with books. Some big. Some small. Some vertical, while others lay on their side.

I reached out, August smiling when I stilled my hand before making contact. “You can touch them. They’re for reading, not for show. This is our library.”

I pulled one off the shelf and opened it up, August coming to stand behind me so he could see what I was looking at, chin resting on my shoulder. “It’s an encyclopedia.”

My reading ability was almost nonexistent, but there were enough pictures to keep it interesting as I leafed through the pages with August providing a commentary. “That’s a theme park. People used to get their adrenaline from going on rides. Nowadays we don’t need to. We get all the adrenaline we need from killing biters.”

“I’ve seen abandoned ones, but they’re all rusty.” I ran my finger over the picture. “This is so bright and colorful, and they look to be having so much fun.” I turned another page.

“Ichthyosaurus,” August said. “It’s a dinosaur.” When I shook my head, he motioned for me to move on. “Marco Polo. He was an explorer.”

I closed the book, the rush of information too much to take in. As was the fact that August seemed to know so much. I picked up another book. This one had a picture of a cartoon bunny on the front. “Where did all these come from?”

“Some were already here. Some I’ve picked up during my travels.” August tucked the encyclopedia under his arm. “In case you want to look at it later.” I didn’t argue. I wanted to take another look. “Ready to move on?”

I nodded, taking one last look at the room before we left. August waved a hand at an open door. “Dining room. You’ll see that later when we eat.” He pointed to another room. “Kitchen. Laura will be in there cooking, so we won’t disturb her. My grandma’s bedroom, so she doesn’t have to cope with the stairs anymore.” He paused before a door, giving me the impression he was in two minds about whether to include it in the tour.

After a period of deliberation that went on for some time, he pushed it open. “Workshop.”

Organized chaos was the best description I could come up with for this room. A long wooden counter covered in various tools and bits and bobs stood at its center. I picked a screw up and examined it. It was so tiny I could barely see it. “Whose workshop?”