“Nothing lasts forever, of course,” said Clyde. “Eatables started to run skimpy on us several months back. We’ve had to dicker for supplies. Barter, that sort of thing. Trouble is, everyone’s coming up short now.”
“Have you thought about going on foot?” said Curran. “I mean, sooner or later you’ll have to move on, right?”
“Easier said than done,” said Clyde. “As you can see, it’s just me with these three females. You folks, though—you’re in good shape. Better odds. Particularly with firepower.” He swept a palm at Curran—who was still carrying Kory’s rifle—in a behold! gesture.
“There is no easy,” said Handy.
“No, no. Don’t mistake my meaning. I don’t suggest anything was easy, per se. But you folks have a leg up. Rifle. A good dog.” Talus’s fat, sleek tail whacked the sand once at those words. “And manpower, which I mean literally.”
None of them responded. Arie had a sense where this was headed and she had no intention of helping him get there. They let the silence wind out, and Clyde eventually jumped in.
“Let me float something here.” he said. He was speaking specifically to Curran, apparently deciding the man with the gun must be the decision-maker. “It’s an idea that could be beneficial to both of us. And believe you me, I wouldn’t put this out there to just anyone. I don’t know where you’re headed, but you ought to consider throwing in with us.” The more he talked, the more he warmed to his topic. “Travel together, strength in numbers.”
“We are incredibly grateful for Ashe’s bravery and quick thinking,” said Arie. “I hope you know that, Ashe.”
“Of course,” said Ashe. She gave Kory a brisk rub between the shoulder blades. “It took a whole lot of us to reel him in, though. The riptide is a killer here. I doubt I could have gotten him back on land without everyone helping.”
Clyde watched this exchange with an air of impatience, as though they’d interrupted him in the middle of a sales pitch. He drew a breath to continue, but Arie cut him off, her voice mild but decisive.
“What you’re suggesting, Mr. Atterbury, isn’t a thing that can be decided on the spur of the moment. We’d have to think about it. And speak as a family, of course.”
Clyde tossed his piece of beach grass into the fire, where it blazed up with a quick sizzle. “Sure,” he said. “Of course. No pressure whatsoever. Of course you should sleep on it.” The tombstone teeth had disappeared and his expression turned petulant. It looked to Arie as though Clyde Atterbury, car salesman extraordinaire of the pre-apocalyptic world, was not much accustomed to having his will thwarted.
Arie got to her feet and made a show of brushing the sand off her seat. “Sleeping sounds like a grand idea, as a matter of fact,” she said. “What an unexpected day this one turned out to be. Especially for you,” she said to Kory. “You could definitely stand some extra rest.”
“Every party has a pooper, that’s why we invited you,” sang Clyde. “It’s still early,” he protested. No one paid him any attention, though. Even young Novalee was up, pulling the string on her hood so that it made a pale cameo of her face. Clyde rose with an irritated grunt. “I was hoping to get a closer peek at that boom stick before we rush off,” he said to Curran, indicating the rifle.
She stood very still. Everyone did. Curran said nothing, didn’t alter the friendly expression on his face, but he crossed his right hand over his chest and took a decisive hold on the weapon’s strap. He seemed to lift slightly out of himself, so that without even trying he’d drawn up to his full height—at least three inches taller than Clyde. Talus, who’d been as unobtrusive as a chunk of driftwood, appeared out of the shadows and stood at Curran’s knee, ears cocked forward, dark eyes on Clyde.
“The rifle’s not mine to share,” Curran said quietly. “I’m just holding it for a friend.”
Clyde’s uber-affable demeanor slipped another notch, and he hurried to brush it off. “Hey,” he chuckled fatly. “None taken, I guess! We’re a little jumpy, what with the young fella’s close call. I don’t blame you, not at all. Smart, in fact. Very wise.” He held out both arms in a magnanimous gesture. “Shall we ladies?” he said. “Let’s leave our hosts to their nightly ablutions, whatever they may be.” He looked around where they were standing “You folks aren’t bedding down out here on the sand, surely.” He wore an expression of mild concern Arie thought about as genuine as a wax banana.
“We’re down the strand a way,” said Handy. “Sheltered up in the dune grass.”
“Snug as bugs,” said Arie.
“Thanks so much for the meal,” said Ashe. “It was generous of you, honestly.”
“We’ll meet again tomorrow,” said Clyde. They were headed away from the water, going to their stranded motor home in the parking lot. Just before they dropped down the far side of the upper dunes, Clyde turned. “Maybe we’ll have target practice!” he said. He put an imaginary rifle up to his shoulder. “Pow!” They heard him chuckling even after he was out of sight.
The adults went through the motions of picking up their things and putting out the fire, killing time until they could take leave without an audience.
They walked north up the strand, just in case, then cut inland once they were well past the parking lot. Slogging through the dunes, navigating hunks of driftwood and heavy tangles of vegetation, made slow going. At one point, Arie nearly stepped on something dead—a seagull or raven, she thought—but Talus veered in her direction and nudged her away. They helped each other along, silently, until they were finally out at the road.
In the center of the cracked asphalt, Arie grabbed at Curran’s sleeve. Everyone looked where she pointed. Thirty yards down the road was the silhouette of Clyde’s RV. The small flicker of a candle showed around the edges of two ill-covered windows.
Across the road and into the field beyond, they cut diagonally toward the tumbled billboard and their camp. Everything was as they had left it. They pulled the bedrolls from behind the broken sign. Arie dropped onto hers first and heaved a sigh of weary relief.
“Every day a new and thrilling adventure,” said Handy in a voice barely above a whisper. They began to laugh, stifling the sound as best they could. Even Kory giggled with his face pressed into his sleeping bag. Every time their laughter tapered off, the boy would snuffle again and off they’d go.
“I guess we have to talk about Clyde,” said Curran.
“Yep,” said Handy.
“Pros and cons,” said Arie.
“What’s there to say?” asked Renna. “He’s an ass.” After a moment, she added, “But Ashe is great.”
“I like her, too,” said Kory. “Not just because she saved me.”
“She’d make a strong ally,” said Arie. “We’re agreed about that. What about Danelle and her girl?”
“The mother’s completely cowed,” said Curran. “The daughter?” He shrugged. “Couldn’t tell you. They seem attached at the hip.”
“Big picture,” said Arie. “Would it be a net gain or net loss if we fell in with them?”
There was the loud snap of a branch, stepped on somewhere to their left. Kory let out a small yelp and Talus jumped up, fur bushed out around her head. She began to growl, low in her throat. Curran leapt up and put the rifle to his shoulder.
A voice came from out in the darkness. “You don’t want to do that.”
-19-
“WE HAVE WEAPONS,” said Curran.
“It’s only me. Please, don’t shoot.”
It was Ashe, standing not far off, hands raised. Curran let the rifle’s barrel drop slightly. “Who’s with you?”