The Woodlands

Sadly, we had lost most of the clothes we had found and I didn’t want to go back to get more. There was one shirt left which I offered to Joseph. It was too big for me. He thanked me and removed his torn t-shirt. I made an idiot of myself, swallowing a gasp at his well-muscled chest. When he pulled the shirt over his head, I turned my back to him. I didn’t want him to see me blushing.

“All right, Jo,” Deshi smirked, as Joseph did up the remaining buttons. “We all know you’re gorgeous. Stop showing off and start moving.” He clapped his hands together smartly and flicked his head away from the campsite.

We made our way back to where we had left the train tracks two nights ago. We moved quickly, the urge to explore was gone. Apella was still unsure and Alexei had to half-drag her as she continually swiveled her head around, looking in doors and searching rooftops for evidence of people.

We followed the tracks out of the city and headed south-east, deciding to put at least a day’s walk between us and the yellow-eyed beasts before looking for a place to shelter. Joseph scooped me up in his arms before I had time to argue.

“You look tired,” he said

“Gee, thanks. You know? So do you,” I said, poking at the dark circles under his eyes.

He pulled his head away from my touch and gri

“The way I’m going I’ll be bigger than you by mid-summer!” I joked.

He laughed. “Hmmm, you are getting a bit heavy.” He pretended to drop me, catching me at the last second.

I squirmed unenthusiastically. “Well then, put me down.”

He paused and shook his head, blond curls settling into their delicate weave. “Nope,” he said as he took big strides, leading the way.

I put my head on his chest, the pressure of the last few days squeezing me like a concertina, making the air around me soft and dozy. I was pleased with my decision. It was going to be hard. Hard, hard work, Mr. Gomez would say. But it felt better knowing we had a purpose, a strategy. I knew my knowledge of building was going to be useful. I could help. I could do something other than grow fatter and more uncomfortable every day. I listened to Joseph’s heartbeat, deep in his chest, and I pushed the doubt down with it. Pushed down the feeling I could be wrong, that it would be too hard. We had to keep moving forward. We had to try.

I let the dozy feeling wrap around me like a loose bandage and daydreamed about what it might be like to have a home. A home with Joseph and, of course, Hessa and Deshi. Could I make room for another in our little family? For the first time, I opened my mind to the possibility. It was a hazy dream. I could see the four of us; the fifth member was a sketchy grey cloud I couldn’t quite put a face to. Up until now, the leech was not even allowed to exist in my dreams. But it was pushing away at them now, infringing on the edges. Making it presence known.

After a couple of days walking, we started scouting for a position for a hut and store. I put together a rough house plan, using the surrounding timbers as a starting point. We needed somewhere flat, which possibly backed onto a hill, and hopefully faced the morning sun.

Low, grass-covered mounds dominated the scenery like a voluptuous woman had laid down and pulled a green blanket over her body. Small patches of woods sprouted up like green-brown birthmarks on the land. It was a gentle and inviting, although I could imagine it was very different once covered in snow.

We chose to build against the shelter of a low hill. It was stupidly idyllic, with a creek ru

Once we started, we quickly got into a rhythm, working in unison to achieve this one goal. Apella stopped talking about survivors and settlements. Deshi, Joseph, and I took turns caring for Hessa while working and Alexei flapped about, occasionally being useful, but more often than not just getting in the way.

Hessa was changing daily. Changing from a baby to a little person. As we worked, he would lie on a rug and happily gaze at the sky, kicking his chubby little legs in excitement. He had his mother’s temperament, always smiling, hardly ever crying. He adapted easily.

We walked into the forest every day. It was wonderful not to be trudging down the same line. We meandered down different paths, stopping whenever we pleased to examine something or collect some food. I started to teach Joseph about the different fruits and nuts we needed to store. He wasn’t a very good student, listening to half of what I had to say before pi

The cabin was nearly finished. It had been two and a half weeks and the basic structure was done. I stood back and appraised it, casting my eyes over the dark wood and dripping mud. It was a bit wonky, leaning into the wind like it was listening for a secret, but it was solid, strong. It had no shutters or a door yet, but it would be comfortable. The fireplace was half-finished, made of stones and clay mud. I tapped my finger on my chin absently; I needed to ask Careen to focus less on hunting and more on the fireplace. We needed that done if we were to stay warm over winter.

The sun pulled back like an eyelid over a blue iris, streaks of light skipping over the craggy bark of the pine log I was planing. I ran my hand over it, enjoying the splintering feeling, the coarseness. My arm tugged backwards and I lost balance. Joseph pressed his hands into my back and steadied me. I squinted up at his shadowed face. “Want to go for a walk?” I nodded eagerly. The time for us to be alone was coming to a close; there would be no privacy when we were holed up in the cabin for days or weeks at a time.

I looked down as we walked, I couldn’t see my feet anymore, but I noticed the leaves were starting to change color and drop to the forest floor. The seasons were changing. I scooped up various plants and seeds as we moved, examining them in my palm. Tossing some away and stuffing others in the brown leather bag I had brought with me from the ruined city. I found my knowledge was pretty limited. I would bring things back to the hut; we’d examined them, weigh up the risk of trying them, but most we threw away. We could do nothing if one of us was poisoned.

Joseph bent down and picked up a pinecone off the ground. He swung around, asking me the question he always asked, “Eat or don’t eat?” His eyes glinting with mischief.

“Eat,” I replied.

Joseph opened his mouth to bite the pinecone.

“Not like that,” I laughed. I took it from his hand and showed him how to pull the edible nuts out of the woody, brown spikes. I handed him one. He ate it, screwing up his nose.

“I think I prefer the grey stuff,” he said, scratching his arm unconsciously.

“Well, you better get used to it. If there’s no light, it will be nuts and berries,” I lectured, shaking my index finger at him.