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“I don't want you to leave,” Ozzy said, holding tight to Danika's hand. He looked over the high wooden fence at the forest beyond.
“It will only be a week,” she said, squeezing him back. “Don't worry so much, or I'll be distracted the whole time I'm gone.”
They sat on the roof of the two-story log house his father built before the turning. From this vantage point, she had a view of the entire five-acre compound.
Half of the metal pole barn housed horses, chickens, and goats. The other half was a machine shop with wood and metalworking equipment and a small backhoe that was perpetually out of gas. There was a two-acre fenced field beyond the barn where the horses and goats grazed and stretched their legs, the grass always struggling to stay alive.
An acre large garden where the family grew potatoes, spinach, squash, tomatoes, garlic, onions, leeks, carrots, herbs, and strawberries in raised beds was fertilized by composted manure from their livestock.
In the front yard, near the exit gate, sat their windmill. It provided part of the electricity necessary to run the compound. The solar panels on the south facing side of the house's roof, provided the rest.
Danika gazed at Ozzy's profile. His beauty made her want to cry. Her heart clenched, thinking about leaving him. If he made a big fuss over it, she didn't know if she could bring herself to go. “We’ve made this trip before,” she said.
“It was never like this.” He turned to her, his strong hand cupping her belly. “Why don't you tell him?”
“You know it's too early to know for sure. Besides, if we don't get a new solar battery, there won't be safety for any of us.” Danika placed her hand over his and kissed his bearded cheek, inhaling the scent of his skin. “You know I'll be fine. Do you doubt my skills?”
She smirked and drew a long hunting knife from the sheath at her side. The sunlight glinted off the razor-sharp edge.
“Of course not. I learned that a long time ago.”
Danika chuckled and slid her knife back into the holster. She sighed and laid down on the roof, looking up into the pale morning sky. Ozzy turned to her, gazing into her eyes. She stroked his handsome face, the ache of leaving him twisting her stomach into painful knots.
“Father could make the trip alone this time.”
“You know he needs someone to watch his back with all the raiders on the roads these days. I don't want to tell him about us yet. I can't deal with the fallout.”
“He'd have to be stupid not to suspect.”
Danika turned on her side and stroked Ozzy’s arm. He'd grown tall since she'd met him. His soft body had hardened with muscle from long hours of labor, and his delicate features had matured and sharpened. He'd stopped shaving a few months ago, and a rusty beard had filled out his jawline. Wavy auburn hair framed his face.
The day she'd woken in his parents' house, the first thing she'd seen was him. She'd thought she'd died, and he was a boy angel. He'd asked her if she wanted a drink, and he'd helped her sit up when she'd said she did. He'd placed his hand on her back as he'd helped her drink from a chipped ceramic mug. If it was possible for a ten-year-old to fall in love, Danika had come to believe she'd fallen in love with Ozzy that day.
Stolen novel; please report.
Today, her cycle was a week late. She knew it wasn't uncommon for women to be irregular. But hers had been like clockwork since it started at age thirteen. She and Ozzy had been so careful when they'd sneaked into each other's rooms at night. It wasn't like they didn't know where babies came from, or how dangerous it was to make one under these conditions.
Despite her fears, she knew she needed to go on this supply run with Hank. There was no other option. The hinges on the giant gate were rusted and falling apart. Their last working solar battery barely held a charge so they couldn't run the metal saw to fashion new ones.
“I should go with him this time,” Ozzy said. “Tell him you're sick.”
“You know he prefers to take me on these outings since...”
“Since I almost got him killed.”
“It wasn't your fault.”
“Get down here and help me pack up these horses,” Hank called from below.
Danika sat up, looking down at her adoptive father. He wore a black cowboy hat over his balding head, his dark eyes narrow and his mouth a hard line. His broad shoulders stretched out a red flannel shirt, and his faded blue jeans had reinforced patches on the knees. At fifty-three, Hank Chambers was still an imposing figure who ruled the farm with an iron fist.
Despite the man's shortcomings, she was grateful he'd taken her in the day he'd found her dehydrated and wounded in the forest. He could have just as easily left her for dead.
“I'll be right down,” she called.
She gave Ozzy a pleading look. His expression was wounded. Danika and Hank had been making the trip into the nearest town at least once a year for the last five years. But it was the first time Ozzy would be left alone without his mother.
When Mary died six months ago, a part of Ozzy had died with her. Like everyone in their ravaged world, he had experienced much loss, but his mother's absence was a hole that could never be filled. “We'll be back in a few weeks, and then it will be like I was never gone.”
“Maybe you should see a doctor while you're there,” he suggested.
“I might, if I can get away from Hank.” She stood and climbed through the window into the bedroom. She rubbed her belly as she stepped onto the creaky wooden floorboards. The last thing anyone needed was a baby. But she couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to have Ozzy's child.
He climbed into the room behind her and followed her down the stairs to the ground floor. When they walked outside into the cool autumn sunlight, Hank was cinching up the saddle on her mare Snowflake, a white Appaloosa with strawberry markings. She slid her pack onto the saddle and tied it down. Ozzy stood on the porch, his expression blank as he stared at her.
Telling Hank her pregnancy concerns was not an option until she knew for sure. Her adoptive father was old-fashioned when it came to matters like sex and family. He would be angry, likely blaming Ozzy for it all. Getting Ozzy in trouble with his dad was the last thing she wanted.
She stroked Snowflake's muzzle as Hank went back inside for the last of their supplies. Ozzy walked down to her, his sharp blue eyes locked on hers.
“I wish I could talk you out of this,” he said. He wrapped his arms around her, and she inhaled the scent of his skin, closing her eyes.
“When have you ever been able to talk me out of anything?” she teased.
He released a strangled laugh as he let her go. He stepped back and looked down at his booted feet, kicking a rock in the gravel driveway. Hank emerged from the house, carrying a pouch she knew was full of silver coins.
Her pack was filled with the hides she'd tanned over the last year. They also had collected seeds from their garden and rare herbs from the woods. What they produced off the land was their only source of income, and the only way to trade for the supplies they needed to survive out in the woods alone. Hank mounted Blackjack, his gelding quarter horse, and steered his reins toward the front gate.
“Daylight's burning,” he said sharply, not bothering to say goodbye to his son. Danika grasped Ozzy again. Holding him close, she memorized every nuance of the feeling of his body in her arms.
“Ozzy, open the gate, and close it up behind us. Don't let a single person within twenty yards. The last thing we need is to find the compound overtaken because you were too friendly to strangers,” Hank barked.
Danika flinched at the insult. She knew it was a reference to a past occurrence when Ozzy had almost let a woman and child into the compound. Just as Ozzy was about to open the gate for them, Hank spotted an armed man just beyond the tree line. He'd fired a shot, barely missing the man, and demanded they all leave.
“I'll keep the home fires burning,” Ozzy said, unfastening the latch.
The rusty hinges creaked as he opened the gate, and Danika followed Hank out onto the road.