Chapter 8 Lissa
Lissa woke from a sound sleep with a sudden jolt.
Something had woken her, something out of place.
She yawned, sitting up in bed, letting her eyes adjust to the near dark of her room.
Her fire had burned down to the dull glow of embers, allowing her to see, but few details emerged.
She tilted her head, listening. Outside, the wind still raged, a dull background whine.
Perhaps a gust had thrown something hard against the house. Was it worth getting up to investigate?
Mira sat at the end of the bed, the orange glint of her eyes fixed on the entrance. Unsettled by her cat’s unusual behavior, Lissa’s heart rate spiked.
Someone or something might be near the house.
Judging by her low fire and the cool temperature inside, it was somewhere during the wee hours of the morning.
Maybe almost dawn. Not that daylight was a factor during a blizzard.
A crunching sound came from the corner by the hearth.
Lissa squinted, making out the shape of Luna eating.
That shouldn’t have been enough to wake Lissa from a dead sleep.
Mira looked beyond the other cat’s meal, toward the entrance.
Without making a sound, Lissa grabbed her robe from beside the bed and slipped it on. She thrust her feet into a thick pair of socks before swinging her feet onto the chilly floor.
She’d taken only three steps when someone knocked on the door from the kitchen.
She froze, unable to breathe. Instead of lighting her lantern or a candle, she grabbed the loaded shotgun propped in the corner. Her hands shook, and her heart drummed hard enough against her ribs that she was afraid the intruder would hear. Trickles of sweat rolled down her sides.
“Hello,” a deep male voice called out. Another knock sounded. “Anyone. Please.”
It was the man from the forest. Though she’d only heard his voice once, she was certain of her guest’s identity. She bit her lip. He’d looked like someone decent, though manners and character were impossible to determine from a distance, and in their brief interaction he was gruff.
Tip-toeing closer, holding her gun with one hand, she fumbled for a light, knocking a candle over with a thud.
She winced as it popped loose from the wax in the holder and rolled off the table—with a louder thunk.
Dammit. She closed her eyes, twitching at every sound as the candle bounced and rolled several feet across the floor.
She sucked in a breath, tears pricking behind her eyes. Way to be stealthy.
The next thump on the door was louder. “I hear someone in there,” said the voice. “I don’t intend any harm. Please.” His second “please” caught at her heart. He sounded sincere.
She bent, grabbed her candle, and held the base near the embers, softening the wax.
She stuffed it into the holder, then held the wick to the banked fire.
The yellow flame rose, chasing away the shadows.
Setting her gun down, she tossed another chunk of wood onto the banked fire while she considered her options.
Orange licked along its edge, the dry wood igniting at once.
With a deep breath, Lissa crossed to the door, scraping back both deadbolts she’d installed. She stepped back, retrieving her shotgun from the table. She wiped her damp palms and, trying to infuse confidence into her voice, she said, “It’s unlocked now. Come in with your hands up.”
The door swung open with a draft of cold air, and Luna disappeared into the corner, sidling out of the way.
Lissa kept her gaze riveted on the opening.
The man hop-shuffled forward, one hand in the air holding a candle lantern.
He hunched to the side over a forked branch.
The foot nearest the homemade crutch hung behind, wrapped, and without a boot.
His dark brown hair stuck up on one side and was flat on the other, like he’d just rolled out of bed.
His bearded face seemed hollow compared to a few days ago, while his lips were cracked and dry.
“It’s you.” He swayed in the opening, and his wooden crutch thumped to the floor as he raised his second hand over his head. “I hoped I might find you.” His voice rasped.
“You need help.” She kept her tone even. Her eyes flicked over his face, searching for danger signs or clues about what happened next.
The tightness around his eyes suggested he was in pain, as did the creases surrounding his mouth, but he didn’t move—remaining balanced on one foot, hands in the air.
Though he must be about six feet tall, he wasn’t huge.
He was of medium height and build. In the sunlight, his hair had glinted with copper, here it looked brown.
His most identifiable feature were his gray-green eyes, which just appeared gray in the poor light.
“Fucked my ankle on the first day of the storm.” His curse was a growl.
“Not a great time to be staying in a tent. Were you holed up in the fort?” She couldn’t imagine he’d made it all that way today in a blizzard. Especially not on one leg.
He shook his head. “I’ve been staying in the other side of your house.”
“How did you find me?” She clutched the shotgun tighter, still pointing the business end in his direction.
His gaze flicked to her sweaty hands. “I promise I’m not a threat. I won’t hurt you. Do you have water you can spare? Please?”
Even injured, he didn’t seem harmless, more like a cougar waiting to spring. But his pain and his explanation seemed genuine.
His gaze never left hers. “I’ll tell you anything you want.”
She swallowed. His repeated “please” caught her attention, and his direct gaze didn’t seem threatening. Maybe he was telling the truth.
“How’d you find me?” She repeated. Maybe she hadn’t been as secure as she imagined. Goosebumps erupted on her arms, and hair rose on the back of her neck. Were others on the way? Were people looking for him? She’d thought he was alone but hadn’t investigated. Now, she was kicking herself.
Maybe he noticed the panic on her face, but whatever the reason, this time he answered.
“By accident. I was searching for an abandoned cabin I’d seen before in the woods when I slipped down a ravine, injuring my ankle.
Crawling back up, I ran across wooden stairs which ended at a gate in the wall around this place. ”
She nodded, picturing the stairs descending to the stream below the driveway. The cabin he’d been looking for was difficult to find, especially in poor conditions. As for the gate, she’d have to check the padlock when the weather improved.
When she didn’t speak, he continued. “I found this house and, with the storm worsening, took shelter. I’ve been sleeping in an office since the first afternoon. In my first stroke of luck in days, I noticed one wall felt warmer than the rest, so I investigated.”
Taking a leap of faith, Lissa lowered her shotgun. Still watching him, she turned the tap on her water jug, filling a mug. She set it on the table before backing away. “It’s yours. I’ve got enough. Sip. Don’t chug.” If he’d been without water for long, that was a common mistake.
He hopped the few steps to the table, pulled out a chair and sat, stretching his injured ankle onto the second seat with a sigh.
His hands trembled as he grasped the mug.
He wrapped both large hands around it while he drank.
His eyes fluttered closed at his first swallow. He must be extremely thirsty.
“Thank you,” he said, staring over the rim of the mug.
She remained where she was, the gun still clenched in her damp hands. Under his intense gaze, she became conscious of her long, fuzzy braid and flannel pajamas. Tongue-tied, she didn’t know what to say. She hadn’t spoken to anyone in years, and friendly conversation had been even longer.
“I’m Cam.” He took another drink.
“Lissa.” Her voice was scarcely more than a whisper. She took another step back when he set down the mug, turning his attention toward her once more.
He raised his hands, palms facing her. “I promise I won’t hurt you. I’m grateful you answered the door and for the water.”
She bit her lip. “You’re welcome.”
They stared at one another, the silence stretching.
“You look like shit,” she said at last. “You’ve had a few hard days.” The words had barely left her mouth, and she wanted to stuff them back inside. She’d given away too much. He would be sure to guess she was comparing to how he looked before.
Cam arched an eyebrow, his face softening, and her heart skipped. He nodded, as though confirming something. “You were watching me. Thought so.”
Damn. She needed to be careful what she said. It had been so long since she’d had to worry about boundaries—never her strong suit.
Lissa shrugged. “I checked on you a few times. Just like I watched the Slains when they were nearby.” It hadn’t been the same at all.
She’d been close enough to see the title of his book, the birds eating crumbs from his hand, and the expression of joy when he’d caught a nice fish.
Other than the first moment they’d met, he hadn’t inspired fear, only curiosity.
“And?” said Cam, taking another slow drink, his shimmery green eyes intent.
“You like to fish,” she said. The image of his toothy grin beside the creek, the long rainbow trout glinting pink and silver, flashed through her mind.
“I do.” His mouth twitched.
“You’ve been around here before if you’ve seen that cabin. When?”
“Off and on since I was a teenager.” He smiled, and once more her stomach fluttered. Having been alone so long, she wasn’t sure if his presence made her nervous or if she found him attractive.
“Since you’re also not with the Slains, where do you live?” She expected him to hesitate or be evasive.
“Three days north in Vita xTerra.” He took another drink.
She shrugged again. “Never heard of it.”
“It’s in South Dakota. A walled city of underground bunkers. I’ve been there my whole life.”
Her eyebrows shot upward. “Before the asteroid?”