“Oh, it does, but it gives me enough brute force to get through almost anything, and that’s worth it.”
The rain continued to drizzle through the afternoon, and thick clouds hid the sun. If not for the clock on the dash, Clare could have been lulled into thinking they were trapped in perpetual twilight. Their bus didn’t make much noise beyond the motor’s purr, the quiet thudding of the windshield wipers, and Clare’s occasional directions.
Beth seemed to be mulling something over. She kept glancing at the rearview mirror. With the windows boarded up, the mirror wouldn’t help her see the road. She had to be watching Dorran. He’d lain down, one arm folded under his head, breathing slow and heavy as he slept. “Tell me about him.”
“I meant what I said earlier. He’s a good man. Kind, smart, and loyal. I wouldn’t have made it this far without him.”
“There aren’t many kind people left in this world,” Beth said.
Clare started to nod but stopped herself as her sister continued.
“And there are a lot of bad people masquerading as good.”
“What does that mean?”
Beth lifted her shoulders in a shrug. “Lots of people will pretend to be your friend if they need something from you.”
Clare couldn’t stop herself from bristling. “Well, I can vouch for Dorran.”
“We’re family. I know I can trust you, and you know you can trust me. Come hell or high water, we’ll stick together. But you can’t expect that kind of loyalty from anyone else you meet on the road. Maybe this man is one of the better ones. But even he will leave if he decides you’re weighing him down.”
He won’t. He didn’t. Clare pressed her lips together. She couldn’t tell Beth how wrong she was, not without telling her about some of the things that had happened in Winterbourne. Weak from blood loss and poison, convinced that she was going insane, she’d been nothing but a physical and emotional burden. But Dorran had carried her without any trace of reluctance or revulsion, no matter how bad it had been. She’d never believed a person could be so patient.
Clare looked down at her hands again. Her thumb grazed over the ring Dorran had given her. Beth hadn’t noticed it yet. If she had, there would have been a comment. Making sure Beth’s eyes were on the road, Clare slid the ring off and tucked it into a pocket.
Beth already mistrusted Dorran. Telling Beth they were married—or, at least, as close to married as they could be in a world without marriage registrars or ceremonies—would be like trying to extinguish a bonfire with petrol. She would give them time to get to know each other and develop some trust before taking that step.
The outer suburbs gradually faded into rural land spotted with sickly plants and occasional sheds. Clare tried to watch her sister without being obvious about it. Something must have happened to Beth to make her so bitter. Something had hardened her against every other survivor. Clare wanted to ask her about it but didn’t know whether that line of questioning might be safe.
“We’ll stop here while we figure out where we’re going next.” Beth pulled off the road in a field. “Come on. Help me set up some shelter.”
Chapter Three
The shelter turned out to be a cloth overhang that extended from the bus’s roof. Retractable tentpoles anchored into the wet ground, creating a six-by-eight-foot sheltered area. Beth had parked in a weedy field away from any settlements. The grass was dead, but it was higher ground than the areas surrounding it and was relatively dry compared to the fields that had been turned into shallow ponds.
Beth opened a compartment on the bus’s side, and Clare stared in awe at the extra storage. The bus really had been fitted for self-reliance. The compartment carried a portable cooker and tank of gas, foldable chairs, more food and water, and an assortment of weapons, including axes, shovels, and a homemade pike.
Beth carried the cooker out and placed it under the awning. “If your friend wants to eat, you’d better wake him up.”
“On it.” Clare jumped back into the bus. With the lights off, Dorran was almost invisible in the back seat. He lay with one arm under his head and the other fallen over the edge of the bed. He didn’t quite fit. Even with the blankets, he’d huddled over, arms wrapped around himself as though he were cold.
“Hey,” Clare murmured. She knelt beside him and ran her fingers through his damp hair. His eyebrows pulled down, but he didn’t wake. Clare checked behind them, making sure Beth hadn’t appeared in the doorway, then she leaned closer and kissed his cheek. “Can you wake up? We’re cooking some food.”
He stirred and squinted up at her. She’d hoped the rest would help him, but the dark circles still lingered around his eyes. “Mm. Clare.”
“How do you feel?”
He smiled, but even in the dim light, Clare could see his skin was grey. “Better.”
“Do you want to stay here? I can bring you some food.”
“Thank you, but I’ll get up.” He blinked, apparently trying to clear his head. “Are you eating outside?”
“Yeah. Beth has some shelter and a cooker, so the food will be warm.”
“That sounds nice.” He sat, moving gingerly.
Clare wished she knew what was wrong with him. Even more than that, she wished there was something she could do to make it better.
She found a second jacket for Dorran in the overhead compartments and helped him pull it on. He let her fuss around him, adjusting the insulated fabric over his shoulders and zipping up its front. While she worked, his dark eyes watched her, gentle and inexplicably sad.
Clare finished adjusting the jacket but left her hands resting on Dorran’s chest, unwilling to let him go so quickly. “What’s wrong?”
“I am fine.”
Clare raised her eyebrows. He sighed and tried to smile. The expression came out crooked. “I don’t think your sister likes me.”
Oh. Clare opened her mouth, but the reassuring words she wanted to give died on her tongue. She patted Dorran’s chest. “Beth takes a while to warm up to new people. She’ll like you once she gets to know you.”
“What should I do differently?” He was struggling to make eye contact.
Clare’s heart ached. “Nothing. You’re perfect as is. She just needs time.”
Dorran nodded, but there wasn’t much conviction in it. He stepped back so that she could lead the way to the bus’s front, and Clare, feeling helpless, followed the path to the outside.
The scent of rice and curry wafted around them as they stepped through the open doorway. She pushed some enthusiasm into her voice. “That smells great.”
“It all comes out of tins, but it tastes almost as good as the real thing.” Standing by the pot, the scars on her face lit by the portable stove’s gas flames, Beth looked like something out of a book of myths. Fierce, strong, powerful. “I thought I’d make tonight a celebration. Our curry contains real chunks of reconstituted meat.”
Three seats had been arranged around the fire: two close together and one set a little apart. Dorran hesitated but mutely took the isolated chair. Clare frowned. She grabbed the second seat and dragged it around, putting herself closer to Dorran.