Chapter 9 Cam
Cam watched as Lissa opened a door within her cozy apartment, which used to be a living room.
Leaving the door ajar, she put on floral oven mitts and pivoted a blackened pot of boiling water away from the fire.
She carried the pot toward the new door and nudged it open wider with her foot.
Cold air wafted from the bathroom beyond.
She poured steaming water into the sink basin before returning to the main room to set the remainder on the edge of the hearth where it would stay warm. With an economy of movement he admired, she found a burgundy towel and matching washcloth. She placed them beside the sink.
Lissa turned to Cam. “There’s a pitcher of cold water on the floor to moderate the temperature and keep from burning yourself.
If you have a change of clothing, leave the dirty ones in the hamper in the corner.
I’ll wash them when I do laundry tomorrow.
” She scooped his crutch off the floor and passed it to him.
She was all business, as though helping him wasn’t a big deal—but it was, and he was grateful.
In this harsh world, almost nothing was free.
Her instructions continued. “When you’re done, the sink drains into a bucket below. I’ll reuse the water for washing the clothes, or if it’s too dirty, it goes into the tank for flushing the toilet. I only flush if I need to.”
The house must have a septic tank, and these days, away from xTerra, a flush toilet was the height of luxury. She’d done well to figure out a system.
“Thanks,” he said. And while she’d indicated she had enough water, clearly it was still something she conserved.
Smart. He’d be respectful and not waste any either.
Plus, after the last few days, he’d never take water for granted again.
With his pack slung over one shoulder, he manoeuvred into the bathroom and closed the door.
Cam unpacked clean clothes first, then, sitting on the edge of the tub, he kept his weight off his damaged foot and undressed.
Shivering in the unheated room, he hurried.
He added a healthy slosh of cold to the steaming water in the sink and cleaned up.
He winced when he checked in the mirror.
His hair had already been long before he left xTerra, and now it was shaggy.
With the condition he was in, he was shocked Lissa had been willing to help.
He also hadn’t shaved since he’d left home and had more of a beard than he’d ever grown deliberately—he looked like a wild man.
He’d spent the last few days scratching the itchy stubble.
Sticking his hands into his hair, he tugged it upright.
He sighed. He needed a haircut. With hot water and a mirror, he’d deal with what he could.
He also couldn’t do anything about the dark rings around his eyes.
To fix that, he’d need genuine rest. The pain in his foot and his precarious situation had kept him from proper sleep for days.
Once he’d adjusted the water temperature, he stuck his head into the sink, soaking his hair.
Then, he shampooed and rinsed. Once his hair was clean, he lathered up the hand soap and shaved.
It was an extensive job, but his razor was sharp.
He nicked himself a couple of times but didn’t make too much of a mess.
After toweling dry, he felt more human. Cam dressed, sucking in his breath when he threaded his sore ankle through his jeans.
He hoped Lissa was right that it wasn’t a full break.
He had worried about it healing wrong and affecting him long term.
He’d get an X-ray from Medical to confirm her diagnosis once he returned to xTerra.
Better safe than sorry. He swallowed. By the time he arrived at home, if it healed misaligned, it could be re-broken.
For now, this was the best information possible.
He chafed at the thought of waiting to return.
It would take six weeks to recuperate, on top of the two weeks he’d been gone already.
While nobody expected him to return until after the election, his injury would keep him away twice as long as planned.
Though he hadn’t left on the best of terms with his family, they might worry.
He sighed. He couldn’t leave sooner, needing to heal before tackling the homeward trek.
With thoughts of his family, Cam’s mind flashed to a random dinner at the family bunker a year earlier.
Cam sat at the end of the table while his mother and brothers discussed the changes to xTerra since the asteroid.
They preferred the days when the community was quiet and isolated.
Now it was filled with strangers and the bustle of constant activity.
He’d had trouble keeping his mouth shut about his different point of view. Eventually, he snapped.
“Wasn’t xTerra built for this?” said Cam. “A refuge in case of a global disaster.”
Nobody replied—not even so much as a glance or an eye roll.
The conversation continued to flow around him, nobody paying attention to his statement.
He flipped over his fork, watching the shine from the overhead lights.
He didn’t know why he bothered. This wasn’t new.
This was why he’d spent so much time with Lewis and missed him still.
Even as a child, Cam had felt different than his brothers.
His heart ached, missing his friend and mentor.
He’d felt alone since Lewis’ death—the old man had been the only one who understood him.
Without him as a buffer, it was clear. There was a hierarchy in the Montgomery family with Cam at the bottom.
Maybe, if his father had remained in the community, it would have been different, but he’d jettisoned xTerra when Cam was eight, never to be heard from again. If he were brave, one day he might do the same, move outside the walls.
His musing returned to xTerra and its purpose.
It had been built in South Dakota, away from the Yellowstone blast zone, the Ring of Fire, and separated from major cities and population centers that could be targets for missiles or hotbeds for violence.
If the world went to hell, the bunker complex was supposed to remain safe.
Seven years ago, the main asteroid impact had demolished the West Coast and decimated the country with multiple small impacts, volcanoes, earthquakes, and seismic activity that caused flooding and ashfall.
The climate crisis of the twenty-first century had accelerated, even as the population decreased.
Then, technology couldn’t save the food sources when crops didn’t grow or were inedible and covered with ash.
Starvation and violence overwhelmed many remaining cities.
The authorities evacuated the West while refugees overran the East.
His family didn’t want any of the chaos to touch xTerra, their haven and home.
Cam combed his clean, wet hair, wishing he could live somewhere else, even if he suspected xTerra might be a beacon of hope and a way to restart society.
Sitting this out made him feel like a slacker.
But maybe he shouldn’t go back permanently.
After all, Lissa was thriving out here beyond the walls.
It was possible. Plus, his family would hardly notice.
Still, he couldn’t disappear without a trace—too much like his father.
He gripped the counter on both sides of the sink, staring into the mirror with the staggering idea of a permanent move.
He had to return and let them know his plans.
Maybe he could find an isolated place like Lissa had.
Somewhere, he could secure and grow food.
Somewhere, he wouldn’t be called a traitor for doing the right thing.
His mind flashed back to the Clarks. Letting them inside xTerra and kicking off the takeover by the new Council had been worth it, no matter his mother’s words. Isolated, xTerra might end up a fortress alone in the wilderness, and he didn’t want to be trapped inside forever.
A knock at the bathroom door jolted him back to the present. “Everything okay?”
“Just getting dressed.” Cam slipped on a black Henley and buckled his belt. He glanced around the bathroom and hung his towel on the rack next to a green one. The clean clothes, shave, and hot water helped him feel a thousand times better. More like himself.
When he emerged from the bathroom, Lissa knelt by the fireplace again, a griddle over the embers.
The tantalizing aroma of cooking filled the air.
His mouth watered as he watched her flip four medium round pancakes.
Their tops were perfect, golden brown. He immediately catalogued something to look for in his someday house.
A wood-burning stove for cooking and heat.
He would hate to crouch or kneel while preparing food.
His knees ached just watching Lissa. Still, her overall setup was sweet.
“Sit down,” she said, waving her flipper. “You need to stay off your foot.”
Cam sat at the table again, and soon, she set a plate with the stack of pancakes in front of him. Up close, the sweet vanilla scent was overwhelming.
“I don’t need all these.” His stomach growled as though to argue.
Without looking at him, she ladled another batch onto her griddle. “I doubled the batter. These are for you. Mine are next. You should eat them while they’re hot.”
Once the second round was cooking, she set a small jar on the table. “I ran out of syrup, but my homemade jam is decent.”
Cam scooped a spoonful of the bright red jam onto his first pancake. He rolled it like a tube, picking it up to eat. His eyes fluttered closed at the first bite and flavor explosion. He seldom ate anything sweet, and it rocked his world. Her jam wasn’t just okay, it was fantastic.