Page 73 of Sick(ness)

Addy’s fork froze halfway to her mouth. The memory of that day — the shouting, the sound of gunfire, Sawyer dragging her to the truck — rushed back in a blur.

Jay frowned. “And you think they survived?”

“I have no idea,” Sawyer replied. “The storm came down fast. We left before we could find out. But even if they didn’t, there could be more.”

Jay was quiet for a moment, staring at the table. When he spoke again, his tone was flat. “They weren’t following you for your supplies.”

Sawyer’s eyes flicked up sharply. “What makes you so sure?”

“Because I’ve seen what kind of men are out there now,” Jay said. “The ones still wandering, still hunting. They’re not looking for food, they’re looking for power. And in a world like this, women are the first thing they try to take.”

Addy felt the words hit like ice water. “You’re saying… they wanted me?”

Jay met her eyes, grim. “I’m saying it’s likely. You’re young, you’re healthy, and you’ve got someone protecting you. That makes you a target for men who’ve got nothing left to lose and no law to fear.”

Sawyer’s jaw tightened, his voice a low growl. “That’s not happening. To anyone.”

Jay held up his hands. “I’m not saying it will. I’m saying you need to understand what we’re dealing with. The rules are gone. People are desperate, and desperation turns ugly fast.”

Sawyer leaned forward, his forearms on the table, every line of his body taut. “You think I don’t know that?”

“I think you do,” Jay said evenly. “But she deserves to know it too.”

The silence that followed was heavy. Addy stared at the fire, her hands trembling slightly around her coffee mug. She wanted to argue, to say Jay was wrong, but deep down she knew he wasn’t. She’d seen enough of the world in its last weeks to recognize how easily it had turned cruel.

Finally, Sawyer spoke again, his voice quieter but no less certain. “They come near her again, and they won’t walk away a second time.”

Jay nodded once. “Then we make sure they don’t get the chance. I’ll double the perimeter traps today. You help me move the generator to the back side of the cabin, keep the noise down.”

Sawyer’s expression softened slightly. “Good idea.”

Addy looked between them, two men who had both lost too much, now quietly forming a plan for her safety. Part of her wanted to protest, to say she could take care of herself. But another part, the part still haunted by those faceless men in the woods, knew that Sawyer’s protectiveness wasn’t about control. It was about love.

Jay pushed back his chair. “We’ll make it safe,” he said. “For all of us.”

Addy nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you.”

Sawyer reached across the table, his rough hand finding hers for a moment. “You’re safe here, Addy,” he said, looking her in the eye. “I promise you that.”

She believed him.

At least she wanted to.

* * *

Stepping outside was like plunging into ice water. Sawyer and Jay’s breath clouded before them as they surveyed the lake, flat and still as polished steel, with wisps of fog rising where dim morning light touched the surface. Neither spoke as they moved toward the perimeter, the rhythm of their footfalls breaking the brittle crust of frozen earth with military precision.

Addy watched them through the frosted window for a moment before turning back to the dishes. The cabin creaked faintly in the wind, every sound sharper now that she was alone. She could hear the metallic clatter of their tools outside, the snap of wire, the hollow thud of a hammer striking wood.

Sawyer’s voice carried faintly through the glass. “We’ll tighten the snare line here,” he said. “If they come from the tree line, they’ll trip it first.”

“Good spot,” Jay replied. “I’ll shift the cans closer to the path. The noise’ll wake the dead if anyone touches it.”

Addy shivered at the phrase, even though she knew he didn’t mean it literally.

She dried the plates one by one, her movements automatic, her mind elsewhere. Jay’s words from breakfast still echoed in her head: “They’re not after supplies… they’re after you.”

It wasn’t as if she hadn’t known how bad things had become outside these walls. She’d seen the fear in the streets before everything went dark. She’d heard stories, screams from neighboring buildings, the reports on the radio before it went to static. But hearing it spoken out loud, plain and matter-of-fact, hit differently. It was personal now.