Chapter 6 Sierra
six
Sierra
One week since the herd attack, Kole and I have fallen into a rhythm that feels like it's always existed.
We wake before dawn and check the perimeter together. My shoulder's healed enough that I can use my rifle properly again, though Kole still watches me like I might break if I move wrong.
"Clear to the north," I report, lowering my binoculars.
"East is quiet too." He's silent for a moment. "You've been pushing yourself lately."
I tense. "I'm pulling my weight."
"That's not what I meant." He turns to face me. "You take extra watches. Insist on the heavy work. What are you trying to prove?"
"That I'm not dead weight."
"Sierra." He catches my hand. "You're not temporary. You're not on trial. This is your home if you want it to be."
"How do you know I want it to be?"
"Because you're not looking for an exit. I've seen people planning to leave. You're not one of them."
He's right. I'm looking for ways to make myself essential, proof that I belong here.
"I want to stay," I say. "With you."
"Then stay." He lifts my hand, presses his mouth to my knuckles. The gesture is simple but the heat in his eyes isn't.
We finish our patrol and head back for breakfast. I've taken over most of the cooking, not because I'm better at it, but because Kole gets focused on projects and forgets to eat.
"Coffee's getting low," I observe, rationing out careful spoonfuls.
"I know. I've been thinking about a run to Old Pines."
"We should go together."
He pauses mid-motion. "Sierra—"
"Before you argue, consider that someone knows you're here now. The raiders might have regrouped. Those zombie herds were too coordinated to be natural." I set down my mug. "We go together or not at all."
I can see him working through it—the practical benefits of backup versus his ingrained habit of working alone. Finally, he nods.
"Fine. We plan it properly. Time it right, minimize exposure."
"Have I ever suggested we do anything stupid?"
"There was that time you wanted to investigate the smoke signals—"
"That was recon!"
"In the middle of a blizzard."
"It was strategic!"
Before I can defend myself further, we both freeze. Engines. Multiple vehicles, approaching fast.
We're at defensive positions immediately, weapons ready. Through the trees come two vehicles, moving quickly but cautiously. The lead truck looks familiar.
"It's Tom," Kole says, lowering his rifle slightly. "From Old Pines."
Tom climbs out, grinning, followed by three others I don't recognize. There's tension in his shoulders despite the smile.
"Sierra! Kole! Good to see you both alive and well."
"Tom." I embrace him briefly, genuinely glad to see a friendly face. "What brings you all the way up here?"
"Honestly? Gratitude. And maybe a little bit of self-interest." He gestures to his companions. "This is Dr. Kim, Jim, and Janet. We wanted to thank you both in person."
Over the next hour, they explain. The communication network I helped coordinate during the herd attack saved dozens of lives. People who would have been trapped or separated made it to safety because someone was coordinating information.
"It made us realize how vulnerable we've been," Tom says. "All these settlements, trying to survive alone. No real way to warn each other, coordinate, help each other out."
"What are you suggesting?" Kole asks carefully.
"Nothing formal. Nothing complicated." Tom leans forward. "Just... what if we kept the morning check-ins going? Old Pines, your mountain station, maybe a few other settlements. Just to stay in touch. Share information. Coordinate supply runs when it makes sense."
"Like a neighborhood watch," Sarah adds. "But bigger."
"We're not asking you to commit to anything," Jim says quickly. "Just... stay connected. That's all. We'll bring supplies when we can, you keep us posted on what you're seeing from up here. Everyone benefits."
Kole looks at me, and I can see the internal debate. This is everything he avoided for three years—connection, responsibility to others, the risk of caring about people he might not be able to protect.
"Can we think about it?" I ask.
"Of course," Tom says. "We'll camp tonight, head back in the morning. No pressure either way."
That evening, after Tom's group has settled in the expanded clearing, Kole and I walk the perimeter together.
"What are you thinking?" I ask.
He's quiet for a long moment. "Tactically, it makes sense. Better information, shared resources, backup if something goes wrong."
"But?"
"But it changes things. No more just the two of us figuring things out on our own."
I stop walking, turn to face him. "Is that what you want? Just the two of us, isolated up here forever?"
"A month ago, I would have said yes immediately." He stares out at the forest. "Now I'm not sure isolation was the strategy. Maybe it was just fear."
"What are you afraid of?"
The question hangs between us. I've seen Kole face down zombies and raiders without flinching, but this conversation seems to unsettle him more.
"Caring about more people than I can protect," he finally says. "Getting invested in something that might not last. Losing everything again."
The pain in his voice makes my chest ache. "What happened before, Kole? When you lost your unit?"
He's silent for so long I think he won't answer. Then:
"Ambush. We were establishing a communication relay when we got hit.
Coordinated attack—someone had fed them our position.
Half my team died in the first wave." His voice is flat, carefully emotionless.
"I made the call to fall back instead of holding position.
Saved the rest of us, but left civilians behind. "
"That wasn't your fault."
"My job was communications. I should have seen the signs. Missed check-ins, equipment failures that were too convenient. I ignored them because I wanted to trust my team."
Understanding hits me. "Someone on your team was the leak."
"My commanding officer. Found out later he'd been selling information for supplies. Got a lot of people killed before anyone figured it out." He finally looks at me. "So I decided trusting the wrong people gets everyone killed."
"And you're afraid I might be the wrong person."
"No." The word comes quickly, firmly. "Not anymore. But what if Tom is? What if someone in that network is? What if building something bigger just gives more people the chance to betray us?"
The question hangs between us, and I realize this is the real issue. Not whether we can survive zombies or raiders, but whether Kole can trust enough to build something lasting.
"You can't know for certain," I say finally. "You can't guarantee everyone will be trustworthy or that nothing will go wrong. But Kole, look at what you've been doing for the past week. You've been watching me handle crises, make decisions, respond to threats. What does your gut tell you about me?"
"My gut says you're the best thing that's happened to me in three years."
"Then trust your gut. And what does it say about Tom's proposal?"
He's quiet, really thinking about it. "That having backup and resources probably outweighs the privacy concerns. That isolation didn't actually keep me safer, it just kept me alone."
"But you're still worried."
"About you, mostly." He reaches out, touches my face gently. "If something goes wrong, if someone compromises the network, you'll be a target. Your skills, your knowledge of radio communications—"
"Kole." I step closer, place my hands on his chest. "I've been a target since the day I picked up a radio. The difference is now I have you watching my back. We protect each other. That's what partners do."
"And if that's not enough?"
"Then we deal with whatever comes. Together."
I can feel his heartbeat under my palms, strong and steady. He covers my hands with his, holding them against his chest.
"I love you." The words come out rough, like they've been trapped too long. "I know it's only been a month, but I don't care. I love you."
Something in my chest loosens. "Say it again."
"I love you, Sierra."
"Good." I pull him down for a kiss. "Because I love you too. Since the first time you made me laugh over the radio."
"That long?"
"That long."
He lifts me suddenly, and I wrap my legs around his waist as he carries me toward the cabin. "Inside. Now."
Inside, Kole shoves me against the door, his mouth claiming mine before I can catch my breath. His hands are already under my shirt, calloused palms rough against my ribs as he strips it over my head.
He strips while I kick off my boots and jeans. When I straighten up, he's naked and hard, and the look in his eyes makes me want to get on my knees and devour him, worship him.
"Bed," he orders.
"Make me."
His mouth curves. "Wrong answer."
He lifts me, and I wrap my legs around his waist as he carries me to the bed. But instead of laying me down, he sets me on my feet and spins me around, pressing me forward over the mattress.
"Stay like that."
I brace my hands on the bed, looking back over my shoulder. "Like this?"
"Just like that." His hand slides down my spine, over the curve of my ass, between my legs. When his fingers find how wet I am, he makes a satisfied sound. "Fuck, you're soaked."
"Your fault."
"Damn right it is." He pushes two fingers inside me, and I gasp. "You've been wet since I said I love you, haven't you?"
"Yes."
"Wanted me to throw you down and fuck you right there on the trail?"
"Yes."
He works his fingers deeper, thumb circling my clit. "What do you want now, Sierra? Tell me."
"You. Inside me. Stop teasing."
"Not teasing. Getting you ready." He adds a third finger, stretching me, and I push back against his hand. "That's it. Fuck yourself on my fingers. Show me how much you want it."
I rock back into his hand, shameless, chasing the pleasure. But it's not enough. I need more.
"Kole, please."
"Please what?"
"Fuck me. Now."
He withdraws his fingers, and I hear him spit into his hand, the wet sound as he strokes himself. Then he's positioning himself, the head of his cock pushing against my entrance.
"You want this?" he asks, voice strained.
"God, yes."
He drives into me in one hard thrust, burying himself completely. I cry out, fingers clutching the blanket as he fills me.
"Too much?" he asks, holding still.
"Not enough. Move."
He pulls almost all the way out and slams back in, setting a brutal pace that has me gasping with each thrust. His hands grip my hips hard enough to bruise, holding me in place as he fucks me.
"This what you needed?" he asks between thrusts. "Needed me to fuck you hard?"
"Yes. Fuck. Don't stop."
"Not planning to."
The angle has him hitting deep, every thrust sending pleasure sparking through me. I'm close already, wound tight from wanting him.
"Touch yourself," he orders. "Make yourself come on my cock."
I slide one hand between my legs, fingers finding my clit. The added sensation makes me moan.
"That's it. Let me hear you."
I work myself while he fucks me, chasing my orgasm. When it hits, I come hard, crying out his name as my pussy clenches around him.
"Fuck, Sierra." His rhythm falters. "You feel so good when you come. So fucking tight."
He thrusts a few more times, then buries himself deep with a groan as he comes, filling me.
We collapse onto the bed, both breathing hard. Kole pulls me against his chest, his hand sliding possessively over my hip.
"I love you," he says against my hair.
"I know." I press back against him. "I love you too."
"What do you think we should tell Tom?"
I turn in his arms to look at him. "I think we should say yes. Start small, see how it goes. We don't have to commit to anything permanent—just try staying connected. See if it works."
"And if it doesn't?"
"Then we still have each other. This mountain. Our own little corner of the world."
He's quiet for a moment, then nods. "Okay. We try it your way."
"Our way," I correct. "We're partners, remember?"
"Partners," he agrees, and seals it with a kiss.