“No, Mom, I mean there were a LOT of cats. Like dozens.” Her expression brightens. “You think we could have one?”
“I wish we could, but you know how impossible it is. They’re meat eaters and we barely feed ourselves as it is.” I can’t even remember the last time Rabbit and I had fresh meat.
“Yeah, but there’s a creek nearby and maybe we could fish for them?” The pleading look on her face makes me ache. “A kitten would be amazing, and it won’t take up much space.”
“And what’s the kitten going to eat on the days we can’t catch fish, Rabbit? Stale corn cakes like us?” We’ve been eating corncakes for the last month, the dregs of our supplies. I’ve tried not to think about how low we are on food because we’re always low on food. We always manage to figure something out, but cats have very specific diet needs.
Her face falls and for a moment, Rabbit looks like my little baby Everleigh again, with her thick dark hair and gorgeous hazel eyes framing round, chubby cheeks. I fell in love with her the moment I saw her. Didn’t matter that she wasn’t mine. Those round cheeks fall, her expression one of pure sadness. “I just miss Boomer, that’s all.”
Our dog. Good old Boomer. He was a mutt and the most loyal sweetheart. He also got into everything and nosed one too many snakes. He’s been gone a year now and I still miss the weight of him against my legs in bed. I felt safe with Boomer at our side. People will mess with two women alone, but two women with a big dog makes them pause.
I can’t show Rabbit how much I miss Boomer, too. “I know, baby. Maybe we’ll run into someone with puppies at some point. At least they can eat corn.”
“I guess.” She eyes the parking lot again, and I can tell she’s still thinking about the kittens.
I’m going to think about the cats and the fear of a potential neighbor, too. At least until I check things out and make sure everything’s all right. “I’ll check the nearby buildings first thing in the morning, okay? You need to stay in here until I confirm that it’s safe.”
“Okay, Mom.”
“You got your knife?”
“Right here.” She pats the sheath on her hip. “But they’re just cats.”
“And a possible neighbor, like you said. Got your bear spray, too?”
This time she rolls her eyes at me. “Always.”
“Good girl.” I open my book again, force myself to find my paragraph again. “First thing in the morning and I’ll check out the situation.”
It had better be nothing. I’ll be so brokenhearted (and pissed) if there’s nomads camping somewhere nearby. I’m tired of traveling, tired of looking for the perfect spot to settle down. I want a home again.
CHAPTER 2
DAKOTA
The next morning,I load my crossbow, strap my knives and my bear spray to my belt, and kiss my daughter’s forehead. “Stay inside until I come back, all right? And if I don’t come back by dark, I want you to grab your things and head for the nearest fort.”
Part of me expects her to roll her eyes at how dramatic I am, but this is a child that’s grown up in the After. She knows when to be playful and when to be serious. Rabbit nods and hugs me tightly, watching me head out the repaired front door and into the bright morning sunlight.
Everything is quiet. Peaceful. Birds are twittering in a tree at the front of the parking lot, and the grasses growing up through the cracks in the pavement sway in a gentle breeze. Nothing looks alarming, but that doesn’t mean anything at all. I pull back the tension on my crossbow, checking the bolt again to make sure that it’s loaded properly, and then head into the parking lot.
There’s a cluster of buildings here, all clumped together to share parking, which means there’s also a lot for me to check. Rabbit had mentioned the old sporting goods store, which I’vebeen meaning to check out anyhow. I’ll get there eventually. I move to the first store, which looks like an old dental clinic. It’s totally collapsed, so I move on to the next business, a nail salon.
On and on I go, taking the time to pick through the wreckage, looking for anything that might be of use. I’m wearing a backpack and filling it up with things I find—scissors, toothpaste tubes, an old box knife. Bigger things can be scavenged later, provided this area is safe. My stomach growls, but I ignore it. Our food supplies are thin, and we can’t hunt or set traps until we know this area is secure. I’d rather save what little we have left for Rabbit. I can miss a meal or two.
I check over a smoothie store, disappointed when I don’t even find sugar packets or napkins. It’s been completely picked over, which means someone’s been in this area before. Not surprising, given that we’re in the city. Everything easy to take was scavenged long ago.
When I exit out of the store, I hear the sound of a kitten crying. I turn, looking for the source of the sound. Rabbit had said there were a lot of cats around, but so far I haven’t seen any. I head for the sporting goods store, and as I do, the sound of the crying gets louder. It’s plaintive and reedy and tugs at my heart.
“Pspspsps. Here, little baby.” I move through the tall grass, heading toward an abandoned car with four flat tires. It’s just barely off the ground, but sure enough, I see movement underneath it. I snap my fingers, crouching low. “Come here, kitten.”
After another cry, the baby stumbles out. It’s a kitten all right, maybe a month old or so. He’s tiny with orange stripes and a cream-colored belly, and as he stumbles toward me, I see his eyes are covered in gunk. No wonder he’s lost. I set down my crossbow and scoop him up, cuddling him. With the corner of my t-shirt, I wipe at the crust on his eyes, but he needs medicineand water to clean them off. He cries and squirms while I clean him up, and then tries to snuggle in against my neck.
“I can’t take you with me,” I protest, my heart squeezing. “I wish I could, buddy. Let’s find your mom, okay?”
Picking up my crossbow with one hand and cradling the kitten in my other, I head toward the sporting goods store. As I approach, I see a few cats hiding in shadows or lurking nearby. It matches with what Rabbit had described. I don’t see signs of a human around, though. If someone was living here, there’d probably be trash piled up somewhere nearby—empty food cans or wrappers, broken gear, anything along those lines. There’s nothing that I can see and perhaps that’s a good sign. Perhaps there’s just a few random cats nearby.
“Do you see your mama?” I whisper to the kitten in my hand. I watch the other cats. One pretty calico approaches me and rubs against my legs, purring, but none of them seem interested in the kitten in my hands.
