Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 119764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
“We left two years ago,” Rabbit adds. “It’s been great.”
I manage a smile. Her version of how things have gone is different than mine. I haven’t let her know how stressed I am about our living situation, how every day I triple check our rations to make sure she has something to eat, how I’ve gone without so she wouldn’t. I don’t regret leaving the fort, but I wouldn’t say it’s been a breeze.
“Good for you, honey,” Aggie says to Rabbit. “You and your mom are doing great.”
“You are too,” she tells them, all smiles. She leans in, and I ache at the eagerness on her face, because how long has it been since Rabbit had a friend to talk to? A mom isn’t the same thing. “So you and Dottie left the fort to go out on your own? And that’s how you got here?”
“Kinda?” Aggie looks over at Dottie again.
Maybe it’s mom radar, but that look bothers me.
CHAPTER 26
DAKOTA
“What fort were you in?” I ask, oh so casually. I squeeze Murr’s hand in mine without realizing I’m doing so, and when he squeezes back, it startles me.
Dottie is the one that replies, her tone calm and measured. “We came from Kansas City.”
“That’s a long, long way away. You two walked?” My bullshit meter turns on. It took me and Rabbit two years to make it here from Amarillo. You can’t travel fast anymore. The roads are overgrown and broken, so you have to walk on foot. You have to be careful to avoid dragons and their attacks, not to mention other people. You have to forage for food or scavenge every building you come across in the hopes of scraps from Before. The fact that these two elderly women made it that far on their own tells me they’re either lying or there’s something they’re not sharing.
“Not exactly,” Dottie continues. “We rode bicycles all the way down to Oklahoma City. Took a bit, but it ain’t that hard to do.”
“I used to bike to work every morning back when we still had corporate jobs,” Aggie mourns. “I had the prettiest road bike, too. Lightweight, but the best glide. Bright yellow, too. I called her Little Mama.” Her mouth purses and for a moment she looks genuinely sad. “She served me well for several years, but when we got to Oklahoma, her tires gave out. Couldn’t find a replacement so we ended up trading her for parts.”
“We sold my bike to a guide,” Dottie says. Her expression hardens. “He was supposed to guide us to Fort Dallas, but he tried to kill us and ran off with the bike just a few hours outside of the last fort. After that, we decided not to deal with forts—”
“—or men,” Aggie chimes in.
“—or men,” Dottie continues. “No more for us. We’re done.”
“If I see that bastard again, I’m gonna take the bike and shove his shitty beard through the spokes and ride away,” Aggie seethes.
That…has to be a coincidence. Lots of people ride bicycles in the After, simply because they don’t require gasoline. Lots of guys have beards too, because razors are at a premium. And yet, I have to ask. “What did that guide look like, if you don’t mind me asking?”
I feel sick to my stomach as the two women describe who could be the nomad we met earlier. Long, unkempt hair. Scraggly beard. Smarmy smile. It could be anyone, I tell myself. Could be any number of men that just don’t bother to cut their hair and grow a beard. Any number of men with a bicycle.
Any number of men wandering the area that Aggie and Dottie just happen to show up in at close to the same time.
“I think we met him,” I say, deciding to put all the cards on the table. “He came by yesterday and we ran him off, but I’m sure he’ll be back.”
Aggie pushes her glasses up her nose and sits upright. She rubs her hands together. “He’s around here? Good, because I want to kill him.”
My daughter shoots me an uncertain look. “I thought you said he left you outside of the fort. Why would he follow you all the way here?”
My smart, clever daughter. She’s suspicious, as she should be. These ladies might be friendly, but it doesn’t mean we can trust them. I’m both proud of her and terrified of what this could mean.
Motherhood is pretty much just endlessly being terrified for your child’s safety at any and all times.
“Who knows why he’s here?” Dottie says, her voice even and unbothered. She puts a comforting hand on Aggie’s knee and gives me a clear-eyed look. “I know you’ve got Rabbit to look after, Dakota. We don’t want you to feel like you’re in danger over a couple of strange old ladies. This is your home, not ours. We’ll trade with you for a couple of Sudoku books and go on our way.”