Page 45 of Doomsdate

“Good Lord in heaven,” Gramps says under his breath. “Maisie-girl, now, I’m not one t’ judge, but I have to clarify here: Did you, in fact, Misery him?”

“No!” I laugh, indignant. I’d be angrier, except it doesn’t sound like Gramps would’ve been that put out if I had kidnapped a whole-ass man. “Long story short, I found him in a tree on my way out of town and decided to help him. I’m dropping him off at his sister’s on the way to your bunker.”

“Lord, Maisie! What are you thinking?”

“He’d have died if I didn’t help him! He’s the only survivor I’ve seen yet in a world that’s otherwise chock-full of flesh-eating zombies. It’s gonna take days to get up to your place, maybe a week. Doesn’t it make sense to have help for part of that? How am I supposed to sleep without someone to stand guard? What if I get surrounded?”

“What if this stranger beats you up, takes your rig, and leaves you for the dead?” Gramps counters right back. “What if he does worse?”

The thought is so preposterous, I almost laugh again. “He’d never do any of that. I’ve been talking to him online for a week, remember? He’s a nice person, Gramps.”

“He wasn’t so nice two nights ago when he broke your heart.”

“He didn’t break my heart. He hurt my feelings, that’s all.” I rub the back of my neck, the shame and embarrassment I felt when Everett ran out still uncomfortably within reach. “He’s a gentle person. He saw my weapons and got scared, end of story. That doesn’t make him bad.”

“So, you’re telling me after a background check, a week of messaging, one awful date, and a day of driving together, you know everything there is to know about him? You’re comfortable trusting this stranger with your life?”

“I—” But the words don’t come, and I let my finger slide off the talk button. When I think about trust and Everett, so many things compete against one another. How I let him into my apartment and kissed him, only for him to reject me to my face. Then, his very real apology for how he acted, followed by the shock of walking into his house and seeing pictures of his wife everywhere. His duffel full of hard drives instead of warm winter clothes, but how he strove to learn the perfect front kick. The way he had my back last night, even though he was terrified. He didn’t run or climb a tree. He stood beside me and fought. He listened. And when that ranger with the giant hole in her stomach almost took a bite out of mine, he stepped between us with that weird little Taser without knowing if it’d work at all.

My eyes find Everett now, fighting a tent pole in the distance. As I watch, it springs up and whacks him under the chin. I snort, but it’s a weak, half-hearted sound. Because no matter how kind he is or how hard he tries to learn, it’s how much Everett doesn’t know that puts us in danger.

And how much I don’t seem to mind.

I press the talk button again. “I don’t think he’d hurt me on purpose. But I don’t trust him not to accidentally do it.”

Gramps huffs in response. “Good. You keep your eye on him, Maisie. When you sleep, hide your keys and stay armed. When you’re awake, watch for conflicting behavior. Does he say one thing but do another? Does he seem jumpy or skittish? When you ask him questions, is he forthcoming or evasive?”

“All right, Gramps. It’s not like he’s KGB.” I rub my forehead. “But I hear you. I’ll be careful.”

“He may not be KGB, but he could be an evil vegan.”

Lord.

Everett finally slides the last piece of the tent back into its bag, then stands, pressing his palms against his lower back and smiling like he just finished an honest day’s work. He turns, sees me watching, and gives a happy wave, like did you see that? I give him a big thumbs-up.

“You’re not going through any cities for this fella, are you?”

“Just Washington, D.C.,” I admit, wincing already. “Heard anything bad about there?”

“Washington, D.C.?!”

I press the talk button for a full minute, just so I don’t have to hear Gramps yelling at me. When I finally let go, he’s still going strong, bellowing about the good-for-nothing government and the administration that sold us to the devil, so I press it again. After another full minute or two, the air’s finally gone quiet.

“I understand the danger, Gramps, and I promise you, I’m not going to take any unnecessary risks. I just want to help Everett, that’s all, and to be honest, I was really scared to leave Durham, okay? Having him with me helped.”

“Oh, Maisie-girl.” Gramps sighs. “I understand a thing or two about that. But if your gut’s telling you this man is safe, that having him with you is helping keep you safe, then I’ll stop my wheezing about it. For now,” he warns. “Just, whatever you do, don’t give him my coordinates, and don’t let your heart get involved with your decision-making. You hear?”

“I won’t, I promise.” I run my hand down the dashboard of the car, the faux-leather material beaded beneath my fingertips. I’m not going to tell Gramps about my deal with Everett, but I don’t need to, either. I can keep my head on straight about one night of sex. It’ll probably be bad, anyway—isn’t that what people always say about their first time? Well, what women always say. I roll my eyes at how unfair that is, but it doesn’t keep me from wanting to try it myself, even if it’s just to get it over with and check it off my list.

Besides, something tells me that sex with Everett won’t be bad.

I don’t think it’ll be bad at all.

“Well, keep a sharp eye out for any military trucks while you’re on the big highways, especially as you near the city. Don’t let ’em see you, Maisie-girl. If the government can’t be trusted in normal times, it certainly can’t be trusted in these dark ones.”

“Will do,” I promise. “Speaking of, I’ve gotta go. Sunlight’s burning and all.”

“All right, Maisie-girl. Get here soon.”