Page 48 of Doomsdate

My lips twitch, but that’s as far as I can fake this smile. I park just out of sight of the entrance. “What if there are people home?”

“Well, we have our Tasers charged and ready to go. We know what to do with the undead now.”

“Live people, Everett.” I turn in the seat to him. “What if there’s a family sheltering inside? What if they’re sick?”

“This whole area is riddled with rich D.C. people’s vacation homes, and nobody goes to their vacation home when they’re sick, Maisie. We would have seen a car by now. Tracks on the snowy driveway. Besides, I’m almost positive this is a vacation rental.”

I nod quickly, then tuck my hair behind my ears. The truth is, I’ve been on edge ever since I radioed with Gramps this morning. Logically I know Everett is right—we haven’t seen any signs of life in these parts at all. Not a single plume of chimney smoke. No cars. Not even any zombies, which seems to support Everett’s theory about vacation homes being safe targets for our overnights. But I can’t shake the feeling that I’m vulnerable right now, and that stepping into that cabin with Everett for sixteen hours of rest and car-battery-recharging time before we leave again will strip me of all my defenses.

And, potentially, clothing.

My eyes flutter shut as the idea tugs low in my belly.

Oh. That’s what this is about.

“Maisie?”

“I’m having second thoughts!” I blurt at a truly uncomfortable volume.

“About going inside?” Everett frowns at the darkening sky. “I think we have to at this point—”

“About the sex.” I cringe, then add, “Lesson.”

Understanding lifts his eyebrows. “Oh. I see.”

To his credit, his face remains neutral—if he’s disappointed or irritated with my wishy-washiness or even relieved he doesn’t have to sleep with the crazy lady, he doesn’t show it. “That’s completely fine. If you don’t want to have sex—”

“No! I do, I just—” I groan at the ceiling of my car. “I’m just nervous. Really nervous.”

Everett nods sympathetically. “Listen, we don’t have to make any decisions right now, but I do think we need to get inside and secure the house before we lose the rest of the daylight. Okay?”

I nod for way longer than is normal, avoiding his eyes to root around the floorboard for my Tasers. I only have one Taser wand like the Fun & Stun—the other is the traditional kind with projectile prongs. Not ideal for aiming somewhere specific like the heart, but it’s better than nothing. I have the machete holstered against my thigh in case a mess is necessary.

Now all I need is to get my head back on straight, which is easier said than done. Gramps was right—Everett’s already proving to be a major distraction. Or his shoulders are, anyway. They’re strong and rounded with layers of muscle, which now that I think about it is kind of weird. Everett said when we were messaging that he worked out regularly; I believe the phrase he used was “makin’ gains, takin’ names,” which I promptly had to google to understand. But yesterday during our fighting practice he said he rarely does. Which is it? Is that the kind of thing Gramps was talking about? The inconsistency?

Everett gets out of his side first, his Fun & Stun in one hand and Chicken’s carrier in the other as we walk quietly to the eastern side of the house. The windows are too high for me to see into, so I keep guard as Everett stands on his tiptoes and peers inside. “The lights are all off, and—ooh, they’ve got sheets covering all the furniture.” Everett turns to me and grins. “Jackpot.”

The cabin is perfect, obnoxiously so. The whole structure’s up on stilts, presumably to gain the best views and reduce flood risk from the half-frozen creek swishing over rocks behind the cabin, which coincidentally makes its many huge windows safe from zombies. When I trip over a loose paving stone, it slides enough to reveal the silver gleam of keys, and I’m forced to concede: Fate wants us to sleep in this cabin tonight.

We let Chicken loose to inspect the premises, but she’s relaxed and content to pad across the gleaming hardwood floors, nose high in the air. So far, her zombie-warning system hasn’t failed us yet. Anytime we’ve had to stop, whether for bathroom breaks or to get something from the trunk, we’ve taken to holding her carrier in front of us and pointing her in all directions like a furry lantern.

Everett moves through the cabin, switching on lights and pulling off sheets as he goes, exclaiming all the while about “rich people” and “marble tile” and “your daddy’s investments mean nothing now, do they.” I stop him just before he floods the majestic living room that faces the mountains beyond and the road below with light.

“Not these. Not yet.” My hand lands lightly on his arm, then flinches away just as fast. “We don’t know what draws zombies, and I don’t want any survivors to see us from the road and catch us here unexpectedly, either.” Some of Everett’s glee slides off his face, replaced by the sobering realization of the implications behind my words. I slink back, hating that I did that. Just like Mom always did to me when I was a kid—every little wonder I presented to her reframed as dangerous and handed back to me, dull and broken like a toy that no longer works. Breaking my ability to rejoice in the world at the same time.

“Right, of course.” He smiles at me apologetically, and I help him draw all the thick, light-blocking curtains closed. We lock and barricade all the entrances next, then unpack what we need for the night.

Thirteen hours and fifty-two minutes remaining.

We stand across the massive kitchen island from each other.

“I was thinking—”

“We should talk—”

Our words tumble out at the same time, then stop just as fast. Everett smiles, that warm, comforting smile he’s been treating me to all day, the one that feels like assurance in physical form that you can trust me and I won’t hurt you. The one that, unfortunately, triggers a knee-jerk reaction ingrained in me since childhood that people aren’t what they seem. That people hurt you. That people are dangerous.

But dammit, I’m almost thirty years old, and I’ve barely lived my life. Everett may be my last chance to have sex with someone I’m actually attracted to. I may not trust Everett with my safety, but he’s shown me again and again that he’s kind and decent, and I think maybe I do trust him to be kind and decent to me.