Total pages in book: 163
Estimated words: 150878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 754(@200wpm)___ 604(@250wpm)___ 503(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 150878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 754(@200wpm)___ 604(@250wpm)___ 503(@300wpm)
I smiled over at him, but his face seemed to harden minutely before he said softly, “It’s nothing.” And then he looked away.
That evening, we came upon an old, dilapidated barn that had clearly been abandoned long ago. If there had once been a house nearby, it’d long since been torn down. We unhooked the horse and Tuck tied her near the side of the structure that provided her some patchy grass to munch and a few puddles of water from what must have been a recent rain. Then we slipped through the gap in the double doors and entered the space, pearly light filtering through the multitude of gaps in the wood. I watched Tuck move through, his head tilted back as though he was assessing whether or not the ceiling was likely to fall in. And though it had obviously gone unused for what must be decades, it seemed sound enough to sleep in for one night.
I dropped my backpack on the cleanest-looking portion of flooring and began clearing some refuse to make a big enough space to lay out our sleeping bags, when Tuck said, “Stay put. I’ll be right back.”
I watched as he ducked through an opening between some missing boards in the rear wall and then headed off into the trees still wearing his gear.
“Why does he need his backpack to take a piss?” Charlie asked as he dropped his stuff and started bending his neck from side to side.
“What?” I had a moment of intense fear, like he’d leave us and never return, and for a flash, I felt as helpless as a child, but I also experienced a wave of something I could only call grief overcome me. I reached out for the wooden post next to me, the rough grain of the wood bringing me back to the moment, a splinter stabbing my skin but also serving to pierce the odd fugue state that I’d slipped into momentarily.
“Hey, you all right?” Charlie asked. “Earth to Emily.”
I looked over at Charlie, the sight of him standing there almost confusing me for a second. He seemed all out of place, like he’d breached some time barrier, and I was standing in the middle of two different universes. “Yeah. I’m just… I think all the events from earlier today are catching up to me. And I’m hungry. And exhausted.”
His eyes did a sweep of my body, and then he walked over to where I stood, bringing his hands to my waist and squeezing. “We have a few minutes while he’s gone,” he said, giving me a suggestive smile.
Seriously?
For a moment I considered punching him in the face. Instead, I mustered a smile, but then shrugged him off and turned toward the area where I’d been preparing to bed down. I wasn’t even vaguely in the mood for him to touch me, and it wasn’t only because he hadn’t even asked me if I was okay after stabbing a man in the neck. “I’m too starved and exhausted to think about anything other than food or sleep,” I said. “I can’t believe you have the energy for anything else either. This day feels like it’s lasted for a hundred hours.”
Charlie sighed. “I could’ve mustered some energy,” he muttered, but then he unhooked his sleeping bag and started laying it out.
It was probably a good idea just to go to sleep even though the sun hadn’t fully set. We’d eaten a can of tuna the Goodfellows had so generously given us earlier and would have to forgo dinner tonight and search for something tomorrow. The last couple of days had been warmer than when we’d started out, and so at least there was plenty of melting snow to fill our water bottles.
I startled when I heard the muted crack of gunfire. “What was that?”
Charlie stood straight and walked over to the break in the back wall, peering out at the woods. “Tuck has the gun with him. Maybe he came up on some trouble.”
My heart dipped then rose, giving me a momentary head rush. “Trouble? What kind of trouble?”
We both stood at that gap in the boards, looking out into the dwindling light like two children peeking out from under the bed, waiting for a monster to arrive. And so, when the foliage rustled and it was Tuck who stepped through the trees, the relief that overcame me was sudden and fierce. I released an exhale, my gaze going to his hand where he was carrying a dead rabbit by its ears, his other arm filled with branches. “He shot a rabbit,” I said.
“Gross,” Charlie muttered.
Tuck stopped outside the barn where he began setting up a campfire well enough away from the structure that I imagined would go up like kindling with so much as a spark.
I stepped through the boards and Tuck looked up when I approached. I bent and picked up one of the rocks he’d gathered and set it next to the others he’d already placed. We worked in silence to build the makeshift firepit, and then Tuck situated the branches in the center and went through the process of building the fire using the box of matches the Goodfellows had given us.