Day 20
Her
I found someone.
But I don’t know if I can trust him. He won’t even tell me his name.
The rules he set seem strict, but at the same time I understand them. He’s protecting himself—well, both of us, I guess. We have no idea what the hell is going on or what else might come our way. If we don’t know each other, we’ll have less to lose.
At least he’s not a perv. When I said I was going to shower, he didn’t even look my way. He just nodded and started cleaning a gun.
Hobbies—questionable, but at least he won’t try anything funny.
I hope.
I’ll still sleep with my knife just in case.
“You talked about sharing findings with each other.” His voice pulls me from my thoughts. “Anything you have to offer?”
I shut my journal. He’s framing it as though I need to prove myself to him, to justify our partnership. Well, sucks to be him, because I’m not playing this game.
“Why don’t you start,” I counter. “You’ve clearly covered more distance than me.”
He scoffs at my deflection but plays along.
“At first, I tried to use the communication systems in… where I came from. Radio, landlines, even satellite phones. Nothing.” He clearly doesn’t want me to know where he’s from, but judging by his attire and the multiple weapons he carries, I think I can take a guess.
I keep the observation to myself. “I packed up some essentials and left. I’ve been to a few states so far—I can show you my route on a map tomorrow. ”
I nod. “I’ll show you mine, too,” I offer, trying not to think of the suggestive nature of the words.
If he picked up on it, he doesn’t show it. “I’ve got a radio transmitter, and I’ve been trying different frequencies in every area I visit in case someone is tapped in and listening. I’ve been spray tagging the areas I’ve passed through, too, at least five or six times in each city—”
“You mean graffiti?” I perk up.
“Yeah.” He quirks a brow. “Please don’t go all righteous on me.”
As if I’d give a fuck about vandalism right now. “Did you leave one in Lexington?”
“No.” He narrows his eyes. “I came from the opposite direction.”
“Right.” I should have remembered that. “Sorry. Continue.”
“What did it say? Maybe someone else thought to do the same thing,” he presses harder.
“I’ve been leaving the dates I’ve been there, as well as my phone number—I’ve kept it charged just in case someone calls.
” The hint of disappointment in his voice tells me everything I need to know regarding the outcome of that.
“It wasn’t anything like that.” I coil a strand of hair around my finger. “It looked old, too. It was probably already there, you know, before.” Before we both woke up to an empty world.
“What did it say?” he repeats.
I shake off my unease at the memory of the words. “Find each other,” I let out, and his eyes widen. “But there’s no way it was fresh. It’s probably just a weird coincidence.”
I can practically see the gears turning in his head. “Maybe,” he mutters.
“I’ve been trying to figure out how this whole… thing happened,” I share. “It’s going to sound strange, but I don’t think anyone was taken by force. I’ve been driving around a lot, and I didn’t find any car wrecks, or pile ups…”
We spend what feels like the next few hours comparing notes, like I’d originally called it. I hate to admit it, but he’s been more mission oriented than me, and his brows shoot way up when he asks, “So you’ve just been driving around?”
It pisses me off that I didn’t think about leaving a trail of breadcrumbs behind like he has.
Beneath the annoyance, though, I find myself sinking deep in thought with each shared observation. What I lack in practicality, I make up for in my attention to detail. When I point out that I haven’t seen any animals, he’s almost shocked to realize he hasn’t, either.
“Navigation is another thing.” I say as we share a freshly baked loaf of bread—who knew bakeries get so many of their products frozen?
He clearly didn’t. His eyes went round when I walked us into a nearby café and unhatched the industrial freezer.
“Or, well, the apps on our phones in general,” I add as an afterthought.
“We’re going to have to get used to managing without them. ”
“Why?” He frowns.
I wash down the mouthful with a swig of water. “They’re only going to work for so long.” To his arched brow, I add, “There’s general maintenance that has to be done on them, updates and that kind of thing. I think it’s safe to assume that they’ll stop working at some point.”
He looks as if the option never crossed his mind. “So, what? Physical maps?”
“We don’t have to start now, necessarily,” I preface. “But it could be a good idea to get used to using them.” I sigh when I realize the implications of that. “Unfortunately, that means the music apps might be gone at some point, too. We’ll have to find cars that still have CD or tape players.”
He groans. “Fucking wonderful.” His head hangs low over his portion of the bread as he picks at it. “What’s next? We lose electricity, too?”
I tilt my head. “Well, yeah. At some point.”
“Are you serious?”
“If this continues?” I gesture at nothing in particular. “Of course. Electricity, running water… it might seem like those things just exist, but people are constantly maintaining them. And without people…” I trail off, but my meaning is clear.
“Great,” he huffs.
There are more observations I have, of course, but I keep them to myself as we walk back to the motel.
They’re grim ones, anyway. I don’t see any point in alerting him that there are probably no doctors, that all the medicine we know and use will expire at some point.
That the food in supermarkets will soon get spoiled beyond use, and we’ll have to either grow and harvest our food or live off cans.
I don’t think he gave these things much thought before he met me. Now, though, I can almost see the pennies dropping as he fully understands the implications of a world without people.
“Well, once we find other people, we can try and stay on top of these things,” he says out of nowhere as we settle in for the night. “Power plants. Water pipes. Things like that.”
“I don’t think it’ll be that simple. It’s not just a switch that turns on and off.” I notice the expression on his face and quickly add, “But yeah, we could try.”
“How do you even know all this stuff?” His creased forehead is more than a frown. He’s looking at me like I’m a riddle waiting to be solved.
My dad’s an urban planner; the words are at the tip of my tongue. But then I remember his rules, how little he agrees to tell me, and my jaw clenches shut. “I thought we weren’t supposed to get to know each other.”
“It just seems weird you have all this knowledge.” He narrows his eyes, his arms crossed.
Despite his constant reminders that we don’t have to share a room—there’s no shortage of available ones, after all—he took the couch, and it’s clear to the both of us it’s because he wants to keep an eye on me. “Almost suspicious.”
I snort. “It’s not my fault you only use five percent of your brain capacity. I’m not going to apologize for being smart.”
“And humble, apparently.” His cynicism isn’t lost on me.
“You asked me what I bring to the table.” I cross my arms, too. “Well, this is it. Survival isn’t just about muscle work, you know.”
“So I’m expected to do the heavy lifting,” he observes. “Got it. Not very feminist of you.”
“That’s not what I said,” I grunt before noticing his pleased smirk. He’s enjoying riling me up.
Well, I’m not here to entertain him.
“Night.” I turn the bedside lamp off before flipping to my side.
He only scoffs in reply, the sound echoing behind me in the quiet room.
I’m a side sleeper, but I quickly realize there’s no way in hell I’ll be able to sleep while giving him my back. Not for the foreseeable future, anyway.
I turn to lie on my back instead, staring at the ceiling. It’s going to be a long night.