Year One (Chronicles of The One #1)(46)

She made herself look, pulled off her ruined shirt. “It’s not really bad.”

“I’m not a healer. I mean magickally. But we should find some antiseptic and a bandage.”

“It’s not bad,” Arlys repeated, and though her chin wobbled, she managed a smile. “I’m going to say it.”

“It’s just a scratch?”

“Right. Just a flesh wound.”

She turned on the sink, relieved when water actually pumped out and, pumping the lemon-scented liquid soap in her hand, started scrubbing.

She scrubbed her hands, her arms—though it stung the thin slice on her forearm. She stripped down to her underwear, scrubbed at her legs. Then wedged her head into the little sink to wet down her hair, scrub it, rinse, scrub, rinse until she could see it run clean.

Then she sat on the chilly floor, wet hair dripping, and wept and wept.

“Sorry it took so long, but I … Oh, Arlys!”

Clean again, smelling like a forest in spring, Fred dropped the clothes in her hands and knelt down to gather Arlys close.

“I killed a man. I killed him. Maybe I killed both of them. I—”

“You saved me. You saved us both.”

“I don’t know this world. I don’t know how to live in it.”

“I don’t think anybody does, not really. It’s why we need each other. You’re strong and brave. I think this world needs people like you. And like me.”

“I’m just tired. I’m so tired.”

“Me, too. Maybe you can change, and we’ll rest for a while. This feels like a kind of safe zone, and we’ve got plenty of time before three.”

“Yeah.”

“But first, I found a first-aid kit, so we can bandage your arm.”

“You need some ice.”

“I couldn’t find any, or frozen peas. Maybe Chuck’ll have some. I took some of the Motrin I found in a desk in this tiny office, so that’ll help.”

With her arm bandaged, Arlys pulled on thick black leggings. She folded the jeans Fred had brought as an alternate into the backpack. It wouldn’t hurt to have a spare.

She went for a long-sleeved tee and a black hoodie over it.

Feeling nearly human, she studied the options for coat or jacket.

“This is really nice. It’s cashmere.” Arlys held up the black peacoat style.

“It’ll look great on you.”

“Yeah, I’m really worried about fashion.”

“When you start reporting, you’ll want to look good.”

“I love your optimism.” Arlys tried the coat, found it was a good fit. Then she folded it, sat on it, and drank one of the sodas Fred had packed, ate an apple.

“What are you doing?” she asked Fred.

“I’m leaving a note for Cassidy, in case she comes back. I’m telling her what we took—leaving the tags here—and how if the world comes back, we’ll pay her. Signed Arlys and Fred, with a whole lot of gratitude.”

“Yes, you’re a wonder.” After stretching out on the floor, Arlys used the folded coat as a pillow. “Thirty minutes, then we should go.” Arlys set her no-fail internal alarm. “If Chuck doesn’t show, we can come back here, figure out what to do next.”

“Thirty minutes, check.”

But Arlys didn’t hear her, as she’d dropped out.

She woke in thirty, feeling worse than she had before she slept. But in forty, they were outside, following the map she’d drawn.

“Not completely civilized.” Arlys gestured to a shop, a restaurant, a market—all obviously looted.

“I don’t think many people are left. You can barely feel the air stir. I hope they got somewhere safe.”

But Arlys imagined at least some of the homes and apartments—locked and boarded—held the dead.

They reached the rendezvous point twenty minutes early.

“I don’t think we should wait in the open,” Arlys began.

“Too late.”

At the voice out of the dark, she whirled, dragged the gun out.

“Whoa, whoa, wait, Annie fricking Oakley. It’s Chuck.”

She knew the voice now, and he came out of the shadows, hands up, with that silly and wonderfully elastic grin on his face.

“Chuck.” Arlys lowered the gun, digging deep to hold back fresh tears. “You’re early.”

“You, too. And you got company.”

“This is Fred.” Arlys put a protective arm around her. “I couldn’t have gotten out without her.”

“Yeah, I want to hear about all that. But let’s get inside. It’s been pretty quiet around here the last week, but you never know.”

“There’s a lot you never know.”

“It’s really nice to meet you.” Fred offered a hand.

“You did the weather some these last few weeks. You give good weather. We’re not going all that far.”

He started to walk, fast on long legs. “I’d have brought you in closer, but I had the Old Blue Eyes moment, and went with it.”

“It worked.”

“I knew you’d latch on. Didn’t figure it would all blow up tonight.”

“I’m so sorry.”