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“Probably not. And anyway, it gives me a chance to check out your legs.”
Carly giggled and pulled up the hem of her jeans daintily, like a Victorian maiden displaying a bit of ankle. “Seen enough?”
He grinned at her and pushed up the cuff to her knee to examine the bruised skin there. “Better check the other one, just to be on the safe side.”
She pulled up the leg. “There. Satisfied?”
“Oh, honey, the jokes I could make with that one...”
Carly blushed and wondered, not for the first time, if he was flirting with her a little. But then again, knowing him, it could be something to take her mind off unpleasant topics, like how she was going to get up the stupid mountain.
“Why don’t we walk?” he asked. He sounded relaxed and casual, as though the slower speed didn’t bother him a bit, but then again, as slow as she’d been pedaling, walking would probably be faster. “Toss your bike in the wagon.”
She didn’t want to give up. She hated looking weak and helpless in front of him, but she had to admit to being tapped out. “Maybe we can walk for a little bit.”
“Sounds good.” He helped her to her feet and put her bike in the wagon.
“Why won’t you hook that thing up to Shadowfax?”
“We don’t know what kind of training she’s had. Give her a little time.”
“You’re afraid she’ll run off with our stuff?”
“It’s always a possibility.”
Carly hitched up her jeans. Even with the belt Justin had made for her by cutting down one of his, her jeans were too loose and kept drooping down to her hips. But as Justin thought they would reach White Pass today, he wanted her to wear her gun. She wore the rectangular nylon holster pouch with the .22 inside clipped to her belt, and she was always aware of its somber weight against her hip. She was nervous carrying a loaded gun around with her, but Justin said he wanted her to get used to wearing it.
“Do you think I hurt the gun?” she asked. The woven nylon of the pouch was scuffed from her fall.
Justin’s eyes sparkled, but his voice was solemn as he answered. “Nah. They’re tough.”
“I really wish I didn’t have to wear it.”
“Remember, I told you we’re bound to run into other survivors,” he said. “Some of them might not be nice people. The law is dead, Carly. We’re in the jungle now, and the only law is survival of the strongest.”
“Why did you bring me, then? I’m not one of the strongest. All I’m doing is weighing you down.”
He grinned at her. “I keep picking up trade goods. I bet I could get at least a dozen cans of ravioli for you.”
“That’s it?” She pretended to be offended. “I would think a case, at least.”
He shrugged. “Well, you can’t cook. That brings down the price a bit. And you talk in your sleep.”
“I do not!” she said, indignant.
“Then how do I know you dreamed of french fries last night?”
Carly fell silent. Well, maybe she did talk in her sleep. She tried to remember all of the dreams she’d had since they’d begun sleeping in close proximity, hoping she hadn’t babbled about anything embarrassing.
“Oh? No witty retort? Don’t leave me hanging.”
She said nothing. Her cheeks felt hot.
They were silent for a few minutes until he glanced over at her. “I don’t think you’re weak,” he told her. “I think you’ve just been dumped into a situation you weren’t prepared for. Now that you know what we’re up against, I’m absolutely confident you’ll rise to the challenge. I’ve seen weakness, Carly. And you’re not weak.”
Carly didn’t look at him. She appreciated the kindness, but she didn’t entirely believe him. He was just being nice about it. Carly knew she didn’t contribute anything of value. She kicked a rock lying in their path and sent it skittering across the pavement. Sam gave a joyful bark and chased it. They’d played a lot of games of fetch when he was smaller and could be exercised by running back and forth across her little apartment. He brought her back the slobber-covered rock, and she patted him. She threw it overhand, and he bolted after it.
“You don’t believe me, do you?”
