Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 106092 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106092 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
“Don’t let him sell himself short. He’s my savior many times over.” I flick my gaze over to him and wink. He smirks, but his cheeks redden slightly at the compliment. “I couldn’t do this without him.”
I don’t come right out and say it, but the insinuation is there. Mine. Tyler is mine. Sorry, Strawberry Shortcake.
She smiles kindly at me and then points at Aaron first. “Let’s take a look at the gunshot wound.”
Aaron’s wound looks pretty nasty, but she quickly cleans it up, redresses it, and forces antibiotics down his throat. While I wait, Hope and Wayne gather the rest of the food to take to the others. They’re going to bring Hailey back so Amy can check out her mouth injuries.
All the while, Florence, Cora, Jared, and Harry all watch us with rapt attention. We may as well be aliens for how interesting they find us. It’s apparent that they’ve had their fair share of people passing through, but aside from lack of electricity and dwindling food supplies, life has continued on for them without much of a hitch.
These people haven’t lost those they love and care about.
They haven’t had to outrun marauders, lightning storms, and deadly sinkholes.
Not one of them seems to have missed any sort of meal.
Cora, though found wandering, still bears the childlike wonder and easy smiles found in most kids her age. For that, I’m grateful. Silas’s smiles were stolen long before his life was. Hailey and Jesse have been forced to grow up in a short amount of time. Even our damn group dog is traumatized.
Speaking of Pretzel, I hear him yip and howl, announcing his arrival in Hailey’s arms. She doesn’t meet the eyes of anyone here as Hope slowly leads her over to Amy.
“Do you have anything soft to eat?” Hailey asks, a soft lisp now present. “It hurts to eat.”
Florence and Amy both react similarly and at the same time, the two of them rush over to the slight girl to fuss over her. Florence sets off with the promise of some pudding cups while Amy tenderly holds Hailey’s face in her palms, tearfully inspecting the injured girl.
Tyler sidles up beside me, nudging me with his elbow. “How’s your belly reacting to this meal?”
I feel full. Fuller than full. Stuffed like I ate three Thanksgiving dinners one after the other. What I don’t feel is nausea, or worse, like I’m going to have the shits. Again.
“All good,” I say with a sheepish grin. “You?”
“Great.” His smile turns devilish. “Hope it stays that way until…”
Tonight.
He means tonight. When we’re clean, fed, safe, and tucked away in a soft bed. I feel the stirrings of anticipation in my groin at what this might mean.
Sex?
We’re going to actually get to have sex?
He leans in, hot breath tickling over my ear. “While Amy checks you over, I’ll see what sort of supplies I can round up.”
“It’s a date,” I say with a barely suppressed, needy growl.
This has been the most stressful, exhausting time of my life, but it’s also somehow been the best. Because of Tyler. If anyone can bring me a ray of hope in an eternally dark world, it’s him.
Tyler.
Mine.
Tyler
St. George is wild. Not wild in the whole “the-world-is-ending-and-everyone-is-dying-around-me” wild either. More like alternate reality wild.
These people are going about their day as though they’re mildly inconvenienced by a power outage rather than Earth trying to destroy itself. It doesn’t help their near-delusional state since they seem to be untouched by the horrors we’ve witnessed.
Kids kick soccer balls up and down Main Street. Elderly folks sit on front porches, drinking from steaming mugs. Several able-bodied men and women patrol the area but only half-heartedly, choosing to set down their weapon to join in on a kickball game or shoot the shit with one of the old folks.
Don’t they know our planet is dying?
Not just dying, but going absolutely homicidal on its residents in its suicide mission?
Nah, these people have no clue.
Must be nice to be so oblivious. I’ve seen things I’ll never recover from. Elise’s mutilated hands and Kyle’s brain matter all over the car seat are two images I can’t seem to erase no matter how hard I try.
Earlier, I made my way through the town, stopping at a couple of open shops. They were still accepting cash, even though it feels useless at this point, considering the state of the world. Luckily for me, the convenience store owner—Bud—allowed me to trade my “young, brute strength,” helping him move some boxes in exchange for a bottle of personal lubricant and a six-pack of beer I’ve never heard of.
I listened to the loud man with a problem with excessive belching as he gave me pointers on how to “woo a lady” on my date. I guess it’s obvious considering what all I traded him for. Wisely, I kept my mouth shut on asking him if the same rules applied to wooing a man.