She chuckled and swatted my hand.
“You know me better than anyone. Everyone might think I’m tough and ornery…”
“But you’re worried. Nervous,” I said in understanding. “They are big.”
“All over,” she said with a glance at the window. “But not dangerously so.” She patted my hand again. “And they’re gentle. Kind. Very respectful. If you say no, they’ll listen.”
“Why does it feel less like you're pep-talking yourself and more like you’re pep-talking me?”
“I want you to date, too, remember?”
That had kind of purposely slipped my mind.
“I’m fine. There’s no need. I’m as good of a shot, if not better, than most of the fey. I don’t need to tear off infected heads with my bare hands. A decent vantage point, and I’m just as lethal.”
“Until you run out of arrows,” she said. “I wasn’t the only one lucky three days ago.”
I shook my head, feeling the weight of panic settling on my chest.
“No, Mom. I’m not. I won’t.”
A noise in the hall drew her attention. Zach stood there, flushed, but not angrily so.
“It’s Brenna’s choice, Mom. Don’t guilt her into anything. She’s done enough.” Our gazes met and held. Guilt reflected in his eyes. He swallowed hard and started to turn away.
I sprang off the bed, grabbed him, and spun him around for a fierce hug.
“Don’t,” I whispered as he held me just as tightly. “Don’t even think about it. The past is behind us. We both need to look forward. We watch out for each other. Always. No regrets. Got it?”
He nodded even as he trembled. I continued to hold him until the shaking stopped and he moved to let me know he was done. When he met my gaze, his lashes were wet and his eyes red.
“Find a fey to teach you any moves today?” I asked.
He grinned.
“No, but I found one making a bow. I helped him for a while. He didn’t talk much but showed me how to make arrows.”
“That’s great. If we stockpile them, I can start placing caches along the wall.”
“That’s what I was thinking, too.” Some of the regret and sorrow left his gaze, replaced by excitement.
“Why don’t you start lunch?” I asked. “Mom and I will join you in a bit.”
He nodded, glanced at Mom, then left.
When I turned, Mom was watching me.
“It’s always your choice,” she said. “Never doubt that. I will castrate any man or fey who believes otherwise.”
“I know.”
She nodded, set the binoculars on the bed, and started wheeling toward the door.
“Take a peek,” she said, glancing over her shoulder. “That way you’ll know what you’re getting into before you decide.”
I stayed in the room and sat on the bed, but I had no intention of peeking at our neighbors. Big or small, I knew what I’d be getting myself into with one of the fey. They didn’t date. They obsessed. Some of the women here had found real happiness with the level of devotion from their chosen fey partners. And, I couldn’t deny that Drav was amazing with Mya. But the way he told her what to do…the way they all liked giving orders at certain times…none of it sat well with me.
A memory pulled me in before I could fight it. That first night at the bunker, Zach sat at the table beside me. Strangers were filing past us with their plates to get their portion of the food. I’d nudged Zach. He’d stood with me, and we’d done what the others had. However, when we got to the front of the line, the old guy had shaken his head.
“You work to get fed. You haven’t worked yet, so you don’t get a portion.”
“You took us but don’t plan on feeding us? Why?”
He had nodded his head for someone to take the plate from my hand.
“We plan on feeding you,” the younger guy had said. “You just need to work first.”
The memory of the man’s blue eyes burrowed deeper, switching from the first day to the second when he’d lingered in the kitchen after I’d begged to do the dishes. I’d been begging for something to do to guarantee a portion of the evening meal for Zach. At fifteen, he’d been hungry all the time before the quakes. Afterward, when food was scarce, he appeared almost skeletal.
“There are other ways to work, you know,” Van, the man with the blue eyes, had said while he watched me.
“What?” I’d asked. “I’ll do anything.”
The slow smile he’d given me still haunted my dreams.
“Have you ever given a thought to the future? With so many of us dying, who will be left if we don’t start doing our part?”
I’d understood what he’d meant.
“No one is going to force you. But every time you let me do it, I’ll give up my portion of food for you.”
For Zach, I’d lain still under Van in a bunker filled with people. Some had pretended to sleep. Most of the men had watched. Van had acted like I was the love of his life. He’d petted me and promised to make sure I was ready so I’d enjoy it.
Van hadn’t physically hurt me. I’d been embarrassed, ashamed, resentful, and angry. But Zach had eaten the next day. Me too.
My stomach twisted as the memory faded, and the familiar weight of panic settled heavier on my chest. I picked up the binoculars and turned them in my hands while taking my slow breaths.
Van and his father had called it a choice, but it hadn’t been. Not really. In a system where the men with guns didn’t work but made up the rules for those of us who hadn’t had guns, what choice was there between starvation and letting someone use my body?
I was never going back to that way of living.
Setting the binoculars down, I joined Mom and Zach in the kitchen.
“What do you think?” Mom asked.
“I think that you’re making a decision based on fear and that you should stop and consider the long-term consequences carefully.”
Zach stopped stirring whatever he had cooking on the stove to look back and forth between Mom and me.
“What are we talking about?”
“Mom wants to hook up with one of the fey so she doesn’t have to worry about being turned.”
“And,” Mom added while shooting me a look, “so I know, should anything happen to me, that someone will be here to look after you two.”
Zach remained quiet for a moment, studying me then Mom.
“I want to be mad,” he said. “The resentment is right there. But I remember how scared I was when the infected were running around. How useless I am to keep either of you safe.”
“Zach,” Mom said in a tone that promised she had a million reassurances ready, but he quickly held up his hand.
“Dad was the bravest man I knew. One of the strongest, too. He died keeping us safe. The fey who rescued us from the bunker didn’t die. They were shot and attacked by hellhounds, but they lived. Well, almost all of them. They’re stronger, faster, and immune.
“Since the beginning, Dad told us we needed to stick together to survive. But we know we wouldn’t have lasted out there without him, and he wouldn’t have wanted us to take that risk. That’s why we’re here.” He focused on Mom. “If you want to give one of the fey a reason to care, a reason to stick by us no matter what, I understand. But, you need to care about whoever you pick in return. They’re good people and don’t deserve to be used more than they already have been.”