5. Rosie
Chapter five
Rosie
“ E asy. Easy, Rosie.”
Hearing my name calmed me as my eyes popped open, scanning the dusty white popcorn ceiling. His voice reminded me where I was and who I was with. I clutched at Wilder’s hand as a wave of dizziness washed over me, a sour taste in the back of my throat that made my heart race with the panic of potentially throwing up.
“You’re safe. Just had a little nap,” he soothed, and I nodded, closing my eyes against the sick sensation until it passed a few minutes later. The bedroom felt too warm, and I tugged at the collar of my jean jacket. The bright light spreading across the comforter beneath me hinted at the time of day.
“How long did I sleep?”
“A few hours.”
“Shit. That’s not a little nap.”
A sweet smile hitched up one corner of Wilder’s mouth, and a very different feeling swirled in my tummy at the sight of the handsome man in uniform.
“You have somewhere to be?”
“Yeah,” I grunted, struggling to sit up, “out of this damn city.”
His face fell, brows knitting together as I shrugged off the jacket and tossed it off the bed.
“You’re not in a state to travel. Not even close.” As if to illustrate his point, he placed one finger on my shoulder and pushed me back down to the bed with zero effort.
“We can’t stay here. You must know that. It isn’t safe.”
He scoffed. “Then where is?”
His question hung in the stuffy air, unanswered. I drew a deep breath, frustrated with myself more than anything. If I’d have been braver, I could have been drinking that water in the fridge, foraging around for snacks. My own fear landed me in this weak state, landed me in the closet for days. Wilder wouldn’t say it, but his real objection to leaving was probably that I was a weak link. The crack of a plastic bottle cap caught my attention, and I watched him tip the powdery contents of a narrow package into the water. He swirled the bottle, forming a tiny tornado that reminded me of my own spinning head.
“Electrolytes,” he informed me before I could ask. “You need to drink this whole thing before you even think about standing up again.”
I was too tired to argue. Resources were dwindling, and I needed what he had on offer.
The drink was citrusy, a salty sweet flavour that made my mouth water as I sipped it down.
He retrieved my jacket from the floor, folding it once before placing it atop the dresser. After finishing the bottle, I forced myself to stay still, allowing the electrolytes to restore balance in my severely neglected body. A heavy weakness still clung to my bones, but as the minutes passed, my brain felt clearer like a fog burning off on an autumn morning.
“That helped a lot. Thank you.”
“No problem. Now, eat this.” I hated taking something else from him, but the desire to not be utterly useless won out over my independence. I accepted the snack. Some sort of a crumbly bar that tasted like extra oily peanut butter.
Wilder opened a different compartment on his pack, wincing as he scooted further onto the bed. His lips turned white from pressing them together as he slipped off his boot. Catching his breath, he rested his right foot on his left thigh and rolled his big shoulders. He had to be in a considerable amount of pain. He hadn’t been limping the night before, but the apartment was so dark that I probably missed it.
“You’re hurt?” I asked, though it was more of a statement. It was probably very selfish, but I couldn’t help but think how extra fucked I was if he was injured. Having us both down for the count would put us in a very precarious situation.
“Blisters,” he informed simply, peeling off his wool sock. “Did a hell of a lot of walking the last few days.”
“Can I help?”
Wilder had tended to me with great care, rousing me from sleep and forcing me to take sips of water. When the water had worked its way through my system, he walked me to the bathroom, and did his best to avert his gaze while I peed with next to no dignity.
“You do not want to come any closer to these puppies.” He tried to laugh, but it turned into a pained groan.
“Let me see,” I commanded softly, gingerly sitting up.
“Are you still dizzy?” His gaze narrowed on me with suspicion, and I rolled my eyes. There was no sense in lying.
“Sort of. Not as bad as before.”
“Once I get this taken care of,” he gestured to his heel. “I’m going to search some of the apartments for food.”
“Was there any in here?”
“Not much. There’s a few more bottles of water and some random stuff in the pantry. I guess that lady ate through everything before she…” he trailed off, focusing on examining his foot again.
“Yeah, that makes sense.”
“But that doesn’t mean it will be the same in the other apartments,” he added.
I appreciated his effort to keep things positive, but I wasn’t delusional about our reality. If we didn’t find some food to sustain us, we couldn’t stay here long. Not that I wanted to. The more distance I could put between Barrett and I, the better. I’d never wanted to enter the city limits anyhow.
Internally, I chastised myself for referring to Wilder and I as ‘we’. There was no ‘we’. Wilder stayed because I fucking fell over like a dead weight. As soon as he got what he needed from this place, got more food and some rest, he’d probably meet up with his group and leave. If I’d learned anything the last few weeks, it was that people only looked out for themselves. Fine by me. Being chained to a man was so pre-apocalyptic.
“C’mon, let me look.” I patted my lap, and Wilder scooched around so he could give me his leg.
“Jesus,” I said as his calf hit my quad. “How much does this thing weigh?”
He grinned, deep dimples bracketing his rows of straight white teeth.
Reign in those butterflies, girl.
“Enough.” I twisted his foot in my hand, finding the source of his pain. A bright, oval blister covered the back of his heel.
“It doesn’t look infected.”
“You studying medicine?”
I shook my head with a small cackle. “No. Art History. But I ran track. I’ve had my fair share of blisters. I think if you leave these boots off for a while it could start to heal.”
He sighed, and I knew he hated the idea of being stuck here with me.
“I can’t search the building without a shoe on.”
“I could help,” I offered easily, my need for helping our current circumstances gnawing at my insides. The grin that made my stomach swoop only a minute ago became an irate scowl. It was attractive for a completely different reason.
“Absolutely not.”
“If there’s two of us, we can have a look out. How effective is one person anyway?”
He unzipped a small med kit, rifling through the contents.
Grumbling, he says, “pretty effective if he isn’t limping around like a pussy.”
I rolled my eyes at his comment.
“We already know you’re big and macho, cool it with the sexism.”
One corner of his mouth hitched up.
“You think I’m big and macho?”
I covered my face with my hands in frustration, letting out a quiet scream.
“I know you’re big because I have eyes. And considering you picked the lock to get in here, removed a monster from the bathroom, and secured the apartment with a giant dresser…yeah, you’ve earned the title of macho.”
“Cool.”
I punched him lightly in the shoulder.
“Yes, that stuff is cool,” I said. “Expecting to power through an injury and not be fucked later on isn’t.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry.”
Barrett did not apologise. And if he did somehow utter the word ‘sorry’, it was always followed by a ‘but’.
“I feel useless,” he said, obviously not used to being anything less than fully operational.
“You’re not.”
My eyes fell to the open closet door, and I smiled.
“I have an idea.”
…
It was the next morning, and he was raring to go. The small bedroom had me feeling cooped up, so I could only imagine what a capable man like Wilder thought of being stuck in a tiny apartment. I’d slept fitfully, vaguely aware of him pacing up and down the halls. He insisted I sleep in the bed, telling me he’d nap on the loveseat.
“What I wouldn’t give for a camera.”
Wilder rotated his wrist, urging me to go on. “Yep. Get it all out of your system.”
“It’s just that I didn’t think it would work with the camo. But it’s working .”
He performed a slow twirl for my benefit.
The inhabitant of Apartment 209 must not have lived alone. I spent days in that closet, and was intimately aware of its contents. The pair of red fur trimmed, hard soled slippers were tucked into the corner, and they fit Wilder like a glove. The soles would protect his feet in case we encountered more glass, they were quiet, and most importantly, they didn’t hurt his blister at all. We’d applied a thick bandage to it for our outing, but I wanted him to take it off later to let it breathe. The shoes were silly, but the rest of him still looked good as hell. He’d probably lost weight, and I couldn’t really imagine him being even bigger. I swallowed hard, imagining those forearms bracketing my head on the bed behind us.
“Rosie, do you remember everything I told you?”
Reality pulled me out of my daydream.
“Don’t talk, stay close,” I said, repeating his earlier rules.
He nodded curtly. “Good.”
“But is there anything you want to actually teach me?”
Wilder scowled.
“Because that seems pretty vague as far as instructions go.”
“They are instructions befitting a situation where we are running out of time. What do you want, Rosie? For me to pull a fucking white board out of my ass and give a lecture? Send you to basic before we continue on?”
“Geez, I was just asking.”
He rubbed his eyes, the bags beneath them as dark as ever.
“I’m sorry. I hate that you’re coming along at all.”
“Wilder, we talked about this–”
“I know we did. But I’m still allowed to hate it.”
We debated for hours yesterday afternoon, sitting across from each other at the kitchen table with that damn goodbye note sitting between us. But when it came down to it, it made a lot more sense for me to have his back. I’d softly cluck my tongue or whisper to him if anything at all seemed amiss, and if we did find some supplies, I could help carry them. We were down to our last couple bottles of water. Wilder had fed me a meal from his pack which rid me of my constant dizziness, but that was a short term solution.
Wilder rested his palm on my shoulder, his skin burning hot through the fabric of my t-shirt.
I soaked up the contact like a solar panel, trying to remember the last time someone touched me with tenderness. Without an ulterior motive. All too soon, he replaced my shoulder with the cold metal of his weapon, and slid the dresser away from the apartment door. We left the apartment door unlocked. It was too much of a risk to secure it behind us. If we needed to run back here for safety, the last thing we would have time to do is stop to do a little light lockpicking.
I followed him, right on his heels as we entered the stairwell to go up one floor. If he noticed how much the beam of weak light from my flashlight bobbed, he didn't mention it. His more concentrated light was steady, pausing on the third floor door.
His voice was barely a breath. “Okay, let’s go.”
I nodded even though he couldn’t see me, following his instructions to stay quiet. Easing open the mercifully quiet door, he paused, listening for sounds that hinted at danger. My heart hammered in my ears, making it almost impossible to detect anything besides the blood pumping through my veins. The hall was empty aside from a single black high heel and some stray papers. The windows at either end of the hall lit the way, the morning sun glinting off the patent leather of the solo shoe. I breathed a little easier, fully inflating my lungs as I clicked off my flashlight to conserve the batteries. The first thing I noticed was that there was much less damage here. Not a single door was destroyed like so many of them were on the floor below. Wilder turned his head enough that I could see him raise his brows optimistically. Sweeping right to left, he tried each door to see which ones were unlocked. Locked doors were more likely to have supplies…but they are also more likely to contain threats. He told me we’d check the unlocked ones today. About half way down the hall, the door closest to the errant shoe, we found one unlocked. This door creaked, and I gritted my teeth until it opened enough that Wilder could enter, his weapon raised level with his shoulder, face stony. I did as he said, staying right behind him until he finally turned and some of the tension went out of him.
“Clear,” he whispered again.
I nodded.
“You can talk quietly in here.”
“Should I lock it behind us?” I asked.
His head bobbed. “Yeah, good idea.”
With his gun over his shoulder, we split up. It was only a one bedroom apartment, so we could basically see and hear each other at all times. Wilder headed to the bathroom to search for medical supplies, and I hit the kitchen.
The narrow galley looked intact, although the putrid smell of garbage told me to avoid the cupboard beneath the sink. Drawing in a breath of moderately stinky air, I flung open the fridge to see what I was dealing with.
My heart sunk. I didn’t actually think I’d find a pallet of Powerade and fresh fruit in there, but a girl could dream. Pushing aside a gallon of expired milk and a soggy takeout container, a small gasp escaped my lips. Okay. This was the next best thing. The six-pack of unopened soda water was heavy in my arms as I transferred it onto the counter behind me.
“I’ve got antidepressants,” Wilder announced, squinting at the small font on a couple of clear prescription bottles as he leaned against the kitchen counter, “and, um…” his cheeks turned scarlet, “Viagra.”
“Wow, you’re all set then,” I teased, curious how much harder he could blush.
He tugged at his collar.
“I found some water. It’s carbonated. But water is water.”
“That's fantastic!” Wilder’s eyes lit up for me like I told him I won the lottery.
“What else is in there?”
I bent over, making sure I didn’t miss a thing.
“Everything in here is too far gone. Let’s check the pantry.”
A bifold door next to the fridge hid several gloriously full shelves.
“That’s more like it,” he breathed, much closer to me than I expected.
“Can you not do that quiet military stalking thing to me?” I scolded, my heart picking up its pace again. His chuckle sounded deep and sent a tingle up my spine.
“It’s the slippers, Rosie. They’re magic.”
I hummed my agreement, as I dumped the papers out of a blue recycling bin.
“Here, we can put whatever we can carry in here.”
Crackers, unopened jars of pickles, several half-empty boxes of breakfast cereal. It all went into the bin.
“Hey, look!” I shook a sealed almond milk at Wilder.
He pursed his lips. “Almond milk?”
“Would you rather water on your Cheerios?”
He pretended to gag. “Touche.”
The almond milk joined some cans of soup, beans, and a few unopened condiments.
“This isn’t a bad start.”
We both knew full well we couldn’t live forever in a random building. Getting out of the city would lower the potential of running into dangerous people exponentially. Finding a place with a water well and space to start a garden wasn’t a want, it was a need. But today we’d celebrate the small win. I’d happily eat my Cheerios and almond milk if it meant I’d sleep with a full belly.
Something caught my eye, black leather peeking out beneath a white plush couch. It was the match for the shoe in the hallway.
“What are you doing?” Wilder whispered as I unlocked the door, peeking out to make sure the coast was clear before I darted out, snatched up the heel, and relocked the door. After retrieving the one from beneath the couch, I set them neatly side-by-side on a tray beneath a key hook.
“There,” I said, eyes flicking to my feet when I found Wilder watching me thoughtfully.
“Seemed like a shame to leave it out there. I doubt anyone will be wearing pretty shoes like that for a long time, though,” I shrugged, reaching out for the case of water so I had something to do with my hands.
“Let’s keep going. Leave that stuff there. We’re going to have to take a bunch of trips.”