2. Sam
2
SAM
T he morning brought with it a crisp, cool wind that bit at the exposed skin of Sam’s neck as she stood near the fire, speaking with a few members of the group. Her tone was firm and authoritative as they discussed the day’s plans, but her thoughts drifted toward Kara. She had noticed the woman stirring not far off, her body still recovering from her injuries.
A cry broke through the bustle of camp. "Ouch! Argh!" Kara’s voice, strained and sounding pained, sharply pulled Sam’s attention. She watched as Kara sat up, her face creasing in discomfort. Sam’s eyes narrowed slightly as she observed Kara swallow back a sob, trying to compose herself. She was tough, Sam could tell, but vulnerability was there just beneath the surface.
As Kara began a series of stretches, Sam returned her focus to the conversation at hand. But out of the corner of her eye, she saw Kara carefully getting to her feet, testing her strength as she hobbled forward. The wound on Kara’s shoulder would still need time to heal, but at least she seemed determined to power through. That was an attitude Sam could respect. Kara walked toward the fire, where Sam had started preparing breakfast. She could feel the woman’s presence even before she heard her speak.
“Morning,” Kara said, her voice casual.
Sam looked up, her expression purposefully neutral. “Hey. How are you feeling? Did you get a good night’s sleep?”
“Better than I expected,” Kara replied, though she grimaced slightly. “I woke up with a cramp. I guess…I feel as if I’m almost not connected to my body. I don’t know why. It’s a weird feeling. But I feel ready to start moving if that’s the plan.”
Sam studied her, narrowing her eyes for a brief moment. Kara was eager, maybe too eager. "I think we’ll spend another day and night here," Sam said firmly. “We’re going to take it easy today. We need to make sure you’re strong enough before we set out.”
They ate in relative silence for a few moments, pan-fried snails with flatbread filling the air around them with a delicious-smelling savory smoke. As they chewed, Kara spoke again, this time with a small, surprised laugh. “If you’d told me only a year ago that waking up to hot snails would be the best treat imaginable, I’d never have believed it. But these are incredible.”
Sam chuckled, relaxing slightly. “I know. I can see why the French do it. Or did it.” She glanced down at her food, her mind drifting to darker thoughts. “Gosh, when you think about people all over the world…that this shit must have happened everywhere…it’s so hard to wrap your head around. I imagine some countries are faring better than others. But I’ll bet half the world’s population is dead.”
Kara’s demeanor seemed to change suddenly, her earlier lightness vanishing. “To be honest, I try not to think about it,” she said, her voice distant, almost vacant.
Sam noticed the shift but felt compelled to continue. “But it’s important to think about these things.” She tucked her legs under her, finding comfort in the weight of the conversation. “It’s the future. The future of humanity is at stake, and the more we know, the better.”
Kara took a long moment before responding. When she finally spoke, her voice was quieter. “Yeah, you’re right. It’s just that…it’s putting me on a bit of a downer. I’ve just lost some close friends…and…”
Sam felt a sudden pang of guilt burning in her chest, realizing too late where she had led the conversation. She reached out instinctively, her hand covering Kara’s in a gesture of apology. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. How stupid of me. Let’s enjoy these snails, and I’ll shut up.”
Kara gave her a weak smile, the pain of loss still evident in her eyes. “I don’t want you to shut up. Maybe we can talk about something else. Anything else.”
Sam squeezed her hand gently before pulling away. “I’m going to head off and collect some more firewood. This fire looks like it’s dying down, and we can’t have that. It would be best if you were kept warm today. I don’t want you moving a muscle, okay?”
“Yes, boss,” Kara said, a corner of her mouth turning upward in a weak smile.
Sam rose to her feet, her eyes already scanning the woods beyond the clearing for where the best firewood would be. But before she left, an idea struck her, and she looked back at Kara. “You know what? I’ve got a book in my backpack. It's a sapphic mafia novel. I treasure it. It’s part two of a trilogy, but it’s easy to get into. Does that sound like your kind of thing?”
Kara’s cheeks flushed slightly, and Sam noticed the subtle shift in her expression. Was she nervous? “Erm…I guess so,” Kara said, turning to face her, the faintest blush on her cheeks.
For a moment, they locked eyes, and Sam wondered if they were having the same thoughts. But instead of lingering, Sam smiled and turned her back on the younger woman. There was still so much to do today, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that something might just be starting to soften her heart.
No, Sam. You’re imagining things. Leave the girl alone, for Christ’s sake.
Sam walked away. There was some firewood out there with her name on it. Her breath formed small clouds in the crisp morning air. She felt alert as she expertly weaved her way through the trees, spotting dry logs and smaller splinters of branches they could use for kindling. But her thoughts kept drifting back to Kara.
She must have been cold last night. She looks so tired this morning. But so…well... Wow, she’s such a pretty little thing. Oh, get over yourself, Sam.
As she gathered another bundle of sticks, a figure approached her. It was Benji, one of the older members of the group. Sam noticed that his beard had a patch of white hair under the chin that she was fairly sure hadn’t been there at the start of the outbreak. He looked as stiff and weathered as the branches he was trying to carry in his arms, his back hunched into an unnatural shape.
“Hey,” he said gruffly, coming to a stop awkwardly before shuffling toward Sam. “What’s with the new broad? Lara? Is that her name?”
Sam’s eyes flickered in the direction of the camp, where Kara sat near the fire, her silhouette barely visible through the trees. “Broad, Benji? Ha! I haven’t heard that in a while. Her name’s Kara. She’s healing,” Sam replied, her voice measured. She didn’t want to give anything away. Nobody in the group knew she was gay. The subject had never come up. “She’ll need some time.”
Benji gave her a knowing look as he raised a single eyebrow in what looked to Sam to be mock surprise. “Is that right? Time, huh? I reckon we should move her on. I know nothing about the girl. She could be a risk."
Sam shifted her weight. It occurred to her that Benji might know her better than she thought. She looked at him quizzically, the bundle of firewood she’d collected resting against one hip. “That’s not who we are, Benji. We found her out there alone and injured.” She remembered that first sight of Kara—lying in the dirt, her body battered. Sam felt tears pricking in her eyes as she stared at the older man incredulously. “Why the hell would she be a risk? She’s not infected. She hardly seems the violent type. What do you want me to do? Force her to leave? She’s no threat to us. She’s just trying to survive. She’s the same as you and I. We need more survivors.”
Benji grunted, but Sam could tell he wasn’t entirely convinced. “She could well be hiding something.”
“Ha! Aren’t we all?” Sam spluttered.
“No doubt. But we’ve seen this before, Sam. People will say anything to get protection. You sure she’s not trouble?”
Sam met his gaze, her expression hardening as she thought of her response. “I’m as sure as I can be. That’s the best I can do. I’m sorry, but I’ve made my decision. She stays.”
There had been something in Kara’s eyes when Sam and the others had first found her, something raw and unguarded. Sam had sent her crew back to camp because she’d felt sure she could handle the injured woman on her own. And she’d been right. Kara had somehow struck a chord with Sam, something profound and unnamable, driving her to act on instinct. She knew the others might question her decision, but at that moment, she also knew that she couldn’t care less.
“You know I’ll keep you all out of harm’s way,” Sam felt forced to add, avoiding eye contact with Benji as she spoke. “Any sign of trouble, and I’ll send her on her way.”
Benji sighed, dropping his bundle onto the ground with a clattering thud. “Here we go. You’ve got a real blind spot when it comes to strays, Sam. I think you need to know that some of us don’t much like it.”
Her jaw clenching in anger, Sam watched as Benji turned and walked back toward camp. She shouted out to him, unable to stop herself. “I’ll pick up your sticks, shall I?” she said with more than a hint of sarcasm. “And isn’t that what we all are? All of us here? A bunch of waifs and strays?” But she knew deep down he wasn’t wrong. She had always felt a pull toward those who seemed lost or broken—but this was different. Kara was different.
She continued gathering firewood, the memory of that first encounter replaying in her mind. The mission that had gone so terribly wrong, the screams of what she now assumed had been Kara’s friends being attacked, ripped apart. And then, stumbling across Kara—bleeding and zapped of every last ounce of energy but still alive. There had been a moment as she knelt beside Kara when their eyes met, and something passed between them. An unspoken understanding? Was that what it had been? Or maybe just mutual recognition. Sam hadn’t been sure then, but she knew now that it was more than just curiosity that had driven her to save Kara.
She returned to the tents and spotted Kara still by the fire, poking at the embers. Sam couldn’t help but notice the way Kara’s features softened in the dim orange light, the tense expression she was wearing earlier now relaxed. Sam felt a surge of protectiveness rise within her. She knew she had to take care of Kara, not just because of the dangers they all faced from the infected but also because she had come to understand that several members of the group clearly harbored suspicions when it came to the young woman.
As she unceremoniously dropped the piles of firewood beside the fire, Kara glanced up and flashed her a timid smile. “You’re back. Great haul.”
Sam knelt to arrange the wood in a tidy pile. “I’ve gotta agree with you there. We’ve got enough to keep us warm for a good few hours.”
Sam watched Kara for a moment, her eyes tracing her movements before she spoke again. She was focused solely on the newcomer, not daring to look around to see if other eyes were on her. “I didn’t have to save you, you know? We’ve got enough issues as it is.” Sam paused, her hands hovering over the fire for a moment before she continued stacking the wood. “But I really wanted to.” She gazed into Kara’s eyes. The expression within them was unreadable but somehow familiar.
Kara sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Listen. I really appreciate it. I don’t know how to thank you. But…I need you to know I can’t stick around. I can’t be part of your group. I need to get back to Fort Haven. I have my own people—what’s left of them—and they don’t have a clue what’s gone down, although I imagine they’ll have their doubts by now. It’s the only place I can go. I hope you see that.”
Sam immediately understood the urgency in Kara’s voice. Fort Haven. She’d been told that it had existed long before the virus. It had been some sort of adventure center built on the ruins of a once-thriving settlement. It was rumored to be well-protected. They had thought about venturing out there a few months ago when supplies had been meager, but she’d concluded that such a place would be an easy target.
“Of course,” she said, realizing that Kara’s desperation to return was evident. “But the journey won’t be easy. I know you know that. I want to keep you safe. I’ll come with you," Sam said, the words slipping out of her lips before she had fully processed them.
Kara cocked her head to one side in surprise. "What? You’d really do that? Come with me? I know you said you’d help, but I didn’t expect…”
Sam felt her breath growing harder as her chest rose and fell with effort. She was feeling panicky but had no idea why. “It’s dangerous out there. And if you’re really set on going, you’ll need someone to watch your back. I’ll talk to the others.”
Kara’s lips parted as if to protest, but then she stopped, her eyes searching Sam’s face for something. Sam felt the weight of that gaze, felt the unspoken questions hovering between them.
She wants to know why I’m doing this. So do I! This woman is a total stranger. I’ve just met her. Why am I doing this? I’m not doing anything else, so why not?
Sam couldn’t fully explain it even to herself. There was a connection there, and she couldn’t deny it. And connections were rare in this broken world.
“I appreciate it. But I don’t want you to get in any trouble with the others,” Kara whispered, lowering her head to look at her feet and fidgeting with the cuff of her sleeve.
Sam turned back to the fire. She pulled her knees up to her chest and cradled them. This was a gesture she found comforting whenever she felt ill at ease or nervous. “We’ll probably leave tomorrow morning,” she said, barging ahead with her decision despite still feeling confused and anxious as to why she trusted this woman implicitly after knowing her for less than 24 hours. “I’d say pack up your stuff, but I guess you don’t have any. I’ll gather a few supplies. We’ll have to hunt and gather as we travel. You’ve been through a lot. Get some rest, or you’ll never heal.”
Sam could see the flicker of impatience in Kara’s eyes as the younger woman pursed her lips. She clearly wasn’t one to sit idle, even though her body was working against her. Sam admired that. But rushing into the wasteland in her current state would be suicide. Kara was clearly going to be someone who wasn’t easy to persuade.
Later, as the temperature began to drop, Sam found herself beside Kara. The fire crackled, and Sam slowly relaxed, resting her chin on her knees.
“You’re quiet,” Kara said, taking an unsure breath and breaking the silence between them. “Thinking about something?”
Sam stiffened. “Nothing in particular. I’m just thinking about the road ahead.”
“I know,” Kara replied softly, scratching at her neck where a mosquito had settled to do its worst. “But we’ll get there. I have to believe that.”
Sam nodded forlornly as she crossed her arms. Her mind remained heavy with the weight of what was to come. She had been living the nomadic life for months, constantly on the move, never settling in one place for too long. The idea of having Kara as a travel companion and of having a specific destination in mind felt not only exhilarating but terrifying.
“You’re so strong,” Sam dared herself to say after a moment. “You went through a lot yesterday, and it must feel raw. But Fort Haven seems like a world away. We’ll need to be smart and take our time.”
Kara met her gaze. “I trust you guys. You brought me here, fed me, and you’ve kept this fire burning all day. I know I’m in the best possible hands. You didn’t kill me, either, so that’s something.”
Sam laughed as she felt a warmth spread through her entire body as Kara spoke. She wasn’t used to this feeling of connection, of caring for someone this much in such a short space of time, but with Kara, it somehow felt natural.
God, her voice. It’s beautiful.
"I need to tell you something,” she stated matter-of-factly. “The others don’t want to join us. I’ve had a chance to gauge the mood today, and they don’t want to go anywhere near Fort Haven. I’m sorry. But I’ll be with you. And I won’t let anything happen to you, I’m good on a trek, and I’m up for the adventure, I mean, what else have I got to do?” Sam said, her voice filled with a profound determination.
Kara smiled. “Really? Thank you. Thank you so much.”
The two women sat in silence, their unspoken bond growing stronger with each passing moment. Sam knew the road ahead would be filled with uncertainty, but she felt she had a reason in Kara to keep fighting.
What am I doing? Why am I risking everything for her? But what else have I got to do other than hunt, survive, and fight?
She didn’t really know, but one thing she did know was the warmth she felt for Kara didn’t come by often, and she’d be a fool to let it pass her by.