16. The Other Shoe
Sixteen
The Other Shoe
The air inside the cabin was cold enough to sting.
Dawn hadn’t yet broken, but the faint blue-gray light filtering through the frosted windows said it wouldn’t be long.
Addy stood by the table, clutching Sawyer’s extra scarf in her hands, trying to steady her breathing as he and Jay loaded up their packs.
Jay moved quietly and efficiently, double-checking straps and shifting the rifle on his shoulder. “We’ll move fast,” he said. “Hit the sporting goods store first, followed by the old gas station by the square. If we’re lucky, we’ll be back before the sun’s up.”
Addy’s stomach tightened at the word if. She’d learned that in this world, luck was fragile.
Sawyer was at the door, zipping up his jacket and tucking the pistol under his coat. “We’ll make it fast,” he said, glancing toward her. “No unnecessary risks.”
Sawyer ignored the comment, his focus entirely on Addy.
“Keep that door locked tight. If something doesn’t sound right, even if you’re not sure, don’t make a sound and don’t move.
” His voice dropped lower as he added, “And remember what I showed you about the gun.” Their eyes met in silent understanding, and Addy’s chin dipped in a small, resolute nod.
“I know,” she said softly. Her throat seemed tight.
Jay slung his pack over his shoulder and looked between them, a faint smile tugging at his face despite the tension. “I’ll give you two a minute. Meet me by the truck.” He stepped outside, the door closing with a soft thud behind him.
The silence that followed was thick. Addy crossed the room to him, scarf still clutched in her hands. “You’ll need this,” she said, wrapping it around his neck. Her fingers brushed his skin, and for a moment, everything slowed.
Sawyer’s hand came up, catching hers before she could pull away. “Addy,” he said, his voice low and rough from lack of sleep.
She looked up at him, and her chest ached at the sight of him in the dim light, the strong lines of his face, the steadiness in his eyes that never quite hid the exhaustion underneath.
“You don’t have to say it,” she whispered.
“I do,” he said. His thumb brushed over her knuckles. “I’ll be back. I promise.”
Her lips parted, trembling slightly. “You said that last night.”
He nodded once. “I keep my promises. “
Addy’s throat tightened. “Please, promise me you won’t take unnecessary risks. “
A ghost of a smile crossed his face. “That’s like asking water not to be wet. “
She laughed despite herself, the sound catching in her chest. The laugh died when he moved closer, his calloused hands framing her face, lips pressing against her forehead.
His breath warmed her skin as he murmured, “Bank the coals. Stay silent if someone comes. The perimeter Jay set might give you a chance to hide; that’s all. “
Her fingers twisted into the worn fabric of his coat. “To hell with the coals,” she whispered. “Make it back. “
His eyes held hers for a heartbeat before he dipped his head, capturing her mouth with his. The kiss said everything their words couldn’t: fear, need, a promise. When they parted, he rested his brow against hers, exhaling slowly. “I’m yours,” he said quietly. “That won’t ever change. “
A sharp rap at the door shattered the moment. Jay’s voice cut through: “We need to move. Now. “
Sawyer hefted his pack, backing toward the door. “The lock,” he reminded her.
“I will,” she whispered.
At the door, he looked back one last time, that same quiet, unspoken I love you passing between them in a look. He opened it and stepped out into the dim, freezing dawn.
Addy remained there long after it closed, hand against the wood as if she could sense his warmth through it.
Outside, the sound of boots faded toward the tree line, followed by the low rumble of the truck engine.
The cabin was impossibly empty.
She whispered to the silence, “Please, both of you… come back.”
* * *
The road into town was silent except for the steady hum of the truck engine and the crunch of tires over frozen gravel.
The storm had stripped most of the snow from the trees, leaving a gray, skeletal landscape around them.
The town itself came into view slowly — a handful of rooftops dusted white, broken windows glinting faintly in the pale light.
Sawyer drove with both hands on the wheel, eyes scanning every shadow. Jay sat beside him, rifle balanced across his knees. Neither spoke for a long while.
When they reached the edge of town, Sawyer eased the truck to a stop near the sporting goods store, the same one they’d scavenged before. The front windows were cracked but intact. The sign above the door creaked in the wind, one letter hanging loose.
“Same plan,” Sawyer said, shutting off the engine. “In and out. No noise unless necessary.”
Jay nodded, pulling his gloves tighter. “Got it.”
As they climbed out, the truck’s door hinges groaned in the frozen air. Sawyer cast a quick glance at the rusted blue Ford, its paint chipped away at the wheel wells, revealing patches of orange corrosion beneath. “You’ve had this thing for a while, right? Why didn’t you use it before?”
Jay gave a short laugh, his breath clouding between them as he shook his head.
His gloved fingers tapped the dented hood.
“Would’ve loved to. I’d been siphoning gas from abandoned cars, mouth tasting like petroleum for days, but when that storm hit, engine noise would’ve carried for miles.
Alone as I was, every sound out here’s an invitation for trouble. ”
Sawyer nodded, understanding, his boots crunching on the frozen gravel. “You waited it out.”
“Pretty much,” Jay said, patting the truck’s side like an old friend. “It didn’t make sense to risk it without a destination. Truck’s running on a full tank of gas now, enough to get us a couple hundred miles if we’re lucky.”
“Lucky break,” Sawyer murmured, scanning the storefront.
They slipped inside. The air was stale, reeking of dust and gun oil still lingering. Their flashlights cut through the gloom, sweeping over half-empty shelves. Most of what was useful had been picked clean, but not everything.
Jay found a few boxes of 12-gauge shells tucked behind a stack of bait buckets. “Jackpot,” he muttered, tossing them into his bag.
Sawyer pried open a locked cabinet with the butt of his knife, revealing several boxes of 9mm rounds still sealed in plastic. He grabbed them, along with two hunting knives, a coil of rope, and a small hatchet.
They moved fast, clearing the aisles. Jay pocketed a few fishing lures and a water filter kit. “Never know,” he said when Sawyer raised an eyebrow. “I like being prepared.”
The pharmacy next door was half-collapsed, with glass scattered everywhere. Inside, Sawyer found rubbing alcohol, gauze, and a few bottles of painkillers. Jay unearthed a small stash of batteries, a box of lighters, and to his delight, two unopened toothbrushes.
When they hit the grocery store, they filled a box with whatever was left: canned soup, jerky, crackers, instant coffee, and a dented can of peaches that Jay held up like treasure. “Man, if this isn’t gourmet dining, I don’t know what is.”
Sawyer huffed a quiet laugh. “Let’s hope it’s not expired enough to glow.”
By the time they were done, the sky had lightened to a pale orange. They loaded everything into the truck, breath steaming in the cold. Jay leaned against the hood and lit a cigarette from a battered tin case, taking a slow drag.
Jay’s eyes slid sideways. “That woman’s got you wrapped around her finger. “
Sawyer’s hands didn’t pause on the pack straps. “What’s that supposed to mean? “
” Nothing bad.” Jay tapped ash from his cigarette. “It’s that you check your six every thirty seconds like you’re counting the minutes till we get back. Nobody does that unless they’ve got something worth hurrying home to. “
Sawyer’s jaw muscle twitched. “After what she’s survived, she deserves a hell of a lot better than this nightmare we’re living in. “
“Possibly,” Jay’s voice grew quieter. “But I doubt she thinks she deserves better than you. “
Sawyer shot him a look. “You met me three days ago. “
Jay blew smoke that disappeared into the frozen air.
“Three days is enough. The way you watch her when she’s not looking, like she’s the last clean water on Earth.
” He hesitated, something raw flickering across his face.
“Would’ve given anything to find that before everything went to shit.
Someone who makes surviving seem like it might be worth it. ”
Sawyer finally looked up, studying him for a moment. “You had someone?”
“Yeah,” Jay said, his eyes distant. “Before the sickness. Didn’t work out. I thought there would always be time to fix it. Turns out time ran out faster than I thought.”
The two men stood there in the thin winter light, silent for a while. The world around them was still, but the air carried an edge, a reminder that peace never lasted long anymore.
Finally, Sawyer tossed his pack into the truck bed. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s check the gas station before heading back.”
Jay nodded, stamping out his cigarette. “Yeah. The sooner we get back to her, the better.”
Sawyer’s only answer was a quiet grunt, but his grip on the steering wheel was tighter than before, because Jay was right. Every mile they put between themselves and Addy made the weight in his chest grow heavier.
* * *
After the truck disappeared, silence descended on the cabin, not the peaceful kind, but the kind that rings in your ears like tinnitus.
The early light of dawn started to appear, sending faint rays through the windows patterned with frost. Addy remained frozen by the table, straining to hear the last rumble of the engine until it vanished completely.
Her knuckles whitened around the coffee mug; the ceramic warmth the only thing keeping her hands steady.