Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 67694 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67694 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
But imagine losing your life over such a thing. You’d get more for a freshly baked loaf of bread than you would for a diamond ring these days. Wander into the right museum and you could bag yourself a crown to wear if you were so inclined. The old ways and wealth are dying a swift death.
Be wild to see if any of the billionaires survived by hiding in bunkers. Their currency and crypto or whatever would be worthless now. All of the tech bros’ technology is dead for the time being. Would the former elite still wield any power in this new world, or would they have to content themselves with becoming one of the little people?
There are a couple of cars parked on the street and a child’s bike is lying abandoned on the pavement. One of those with a basket on the front and a bell on the handlebar. I always wanted to get an adult-size one of those.
Dean motions for me to be quiet and to follow. We move swiftly but carefully across the street to the drugstore. After trying to stay still for so long, it feels good to move.
Surprisingly the door is unlocked. How lucky. There’ll be no need for breaking glass and making noise. I am looking forward to getting a decent moisturizer for my face and hands. We left the house so fast I forgot to grab one. It’s first on my shopping list. Once we’ve found antibiotics, of course. I wouldn’t mind a cold pack for my face, either.
Inside, the air smells of perfumes and body sprays with a strange underlying scent of bleach or something similar. The same as every other drugstore. Familiarity is kind of nice. Like I could close my eyes and pretend the world was still working and all of the people were still alive.
We head straight for the pharmacy area at the back of the store. Both of us take out our flashlights. There’s enough sun to see, but not to read the print on all of the boxes and bottles. We head behind the back counter to find what we need.
“We need some stronger painkillers as well,” I say. “Just in case.”
“I’m going to check out back and make sure we’re alone.”
“Okay.”
Which is when we both hear it—a person hiccupping.
The door of a cupboard is flung open. It’s decent-sized and down low. Only a few feet from where I am standing. Out of it flies a young girl. She crashes straight into me, pressing her hot, damp, and snotty face against my tee, and wrapping her arms tight around my waist. And she doesn’t just cry, she keens, making this heartbreaking noise.
One that she pauses only to cough.
Dean freezes in place.
CHAPTER SEVEN
TUESDAY
“Don’t come any closer,” I say in my best calm voice.
Dean’s expression isn’t one I’ve seen before. His eyes widen for a moment before he can hide the horror behind a blank face. The man is shook. Which is fair enough, since I am feeling it myself.
I smooth a hand over the girl’s back, rubbing in gentle circles. Her blonde hair is tangled, her white skin and clothing dusty, and she’s overdue for a bath in general. She’s between eight and twelve at a guess. I honestly don’t know. It’s been a while since I’ve spent quality time around children. Mostly since I was one. But her shoulders are shaking and the front of my tee is sticking wet to my skin. Her face feels so hot. From trauma and grief or the flu, is the question. And honestly, it doesn’t even matter all that much. I’m already infected if she has it. There’s nothing to be done.
On the other hand, Dean is standing eight or so feet away from us and might not have been exposed. Hopefully not yet.
“Back away,” I order him. I stroke the girl’s tangled head of hair. “Get out of here. Now.”
He stares at the child attached to me with his jaw set. “You don’t know for sure, do you?”
“No. But that’s beside the point. Until we know, we have to act as if she has it. And that means you putting some distance between us for a day or two to be safe, right?”
He turns his face toward the front of the store. Yes. Saving himself is the good and sensible choice.
“You need to go,” I say. But he still isn’t going. He’s just standing there frowning. “Get out of here, Dean. Now.”
“No,” he says in this resigned kind of tone, wandering over as calm as can be. “Whatever this is, we’re doing it together.”
Shit.
He gets down on one knee and pulls tissues and his canteen of water out of his backpack. Then he says to the child, “Here you go.”
I am stunned and shocked and all of these things. We’re going through some weird times. But for him to bind our fates so firmly together is wild. Don’t get me wrong, the man has issues. However, none of them have anything to do with making a commitment to me and our supposed future. Something at which each and every one of my previous relationships spectacularly failed.