“Hand me my backpack?”
Lynn got up from the floor and retrieved it from its spot by the passenger side door. It weighed even more than her own. Dani’s shoulders must be as sore as her feet.
Skeever lifted his head from his paws and watched her from the corner he’d settled into.
“Here you go.” She sat back down on the cold concrete.
Skeever rested his head again, sighed, and went back to sleep.
Dani pulled out and divided a packet of beef jerky strips, a bunch of carrots, another small wheel of cheese, four apples, four large potatoes, a small sack of flour, some oatmeal, green beans, and a turnip. “There.”
Lynn stared at the collection by her leg. She hadn’t seen this much food in months. Without foraging and hunting, it wouldn’t last her long, but it was a potential life-saving emergency supply and many of these foodstuffs she hadn’t eaten in months—some even years. Oatmeal? She barely remembered it. Beef in any form and potatoes she hadn’t eaten since Ottawa. She’d traded a fishhook for flour about a month back and had enjoyed flatbread for two weeks before the supply ran out. Her mouth watered. “T-Thanks.”
Dani cocked her head a little. “Welcome.” She paused a moment, then added, “There’s a lot more at the Homestead, you know?”
Maybe it was the sparkle in Dani’s eyes or the softness in her tone, but something about the way she said it caused a tingle of warning to course down Lynn’s spine. “Good thing you’re going back soon, then.” To drive the point home, she packed the food away in bags and satchels.
Dani’s smile wavered a little, then strengthened as she sat up a little straighter. “Yeah, exactly.” Her gaze veered away, and she cleared her throat. “Maybe you should stay until morning.” She glanced at her from under her eyelashes. “It’s safer to travel by day.”
There was certainly logic to that. Dani seemed agreeable to the whole divide-and-conquer thing, so why not get a good night’s sleep? This place was as much of a fortress as she was ever going to find. “Yeah. I guess. First or second watch?”
“Do we need to keep watch? We’re pretty secure… right?” Dani’s expression was hard to read in the candle’s flickering light, but there was a note of defiance in her voice.
Lynn glanced at Skeever in his corner and figured Dani had a point. Damn, she was just too tired to focus on things like this right now.
“Yeah, okay. I’m gonna get some sleep. Take the back. You’ll be able to stretch out better. Your back must be killing you.” She got up without waiting for a reply, hoisted her pack onto the driver’s seat, and walked around the car to get into the passenger side. Lynn stubbornly closed her eyes and leaned her head back to shut the world out—both the outer world in the form of Dani and her internal turmoil. Dani’s sudden cooperation left Lynn feeling unbalanced—and wondering when the other shoe would drop.
Dani opened the back door and slipped in quietly, bumping Lynn’s seat. Then she moved more solidly and stretched out through the gap between the front seats.
Lynn tensed. She blinked her eyes open.
Dani put the candle on the dashboard. She balanced it carefully, checked to make sure the window didn’t get too hot, and withdrew, all without acknowledging Lynn just a few inches from her.
When Dani left her space, Lynn exhaled slowly, making sure it was inaudible. She shifted to get the stiffness out of her shoulders and neck. She really hated having people so close by; it reminded her of how easily they could hurt her, but Dani in particular provoked a nervousness low in her gut. She was a Homesteader, one of her captors and her guard… but by allowing Lynn to get away, she was risking that bond. If Dani was telling the truth, she might end up homeless just because she’d tried to help Lynn. That’s the crux, isn’t it? Is she telling the truth?
“If the mechanism still works, you can tip the seat back.” Dani’s soft voice sounded almost as if she were right next to her ear in the confined space.
Despite herself, Lynn jumped and tried to make out Dani in the mirror that hung from the car’s front window. Her thoughts shattered. “Huh?”
In the light of the candle, Dani smiled at her. “The seat. The back tips back in cars—or they used to. You can get more comfortable. There’s probably a handle or a knob somewhere. On the edge of the seat.”
“Oh. Right.” Lynn didn’t know about things like that, but she searched along the sides until she did find a handle. She pulled it and pushed until the back tipped and she was lying down much more comfortably. Huh. Well then.
“Better, right?”
Lynn shrugged. “Yeah, this is good. I guess.”
Dani’s smile widened in a see-I-know-what-I’m-doing sort of way.
Lynn rolled her eyes. “’Night.” She laid her tomahawk across her lap and wished the familiarity of its weight would settle her more than it did. With a sigh, she shrugged off her coat, wrapped it around her like a blanket, and turned onto her side. She pressed her back against the door in an effort to get comfortable.
Dani stretched out on the back seat. It took her a long time to settle, but then her soft breathing evened out rapidly. She stilled. A minute passed in tranquility, then another.
Lynn sighed. Sadly, not even knowing Dani was asleep coaxed sleep out to come to Lynn as well. Time ticked away. The world outside was dead quiet. Lynn could usually doze anywhere and at any time, but not tonight. She was hyperfocused on Dani, and her brain was driving her up the wall. She felt very, very confined in the tiny car, locked in the garage.
How anyone could actually sleep—deep sleep—while out in the Wilds was beyond Lynn. It confirmed her conclusion that Dani wasn’t a wanderer; she was used to protective walls and a soft bed. She wasn’t trained to sleep with one eye open and planting a knife into anything that moved purely on reflex. There was something soothing about that; humanity needed people who weren’t jaded to the point of numbness. Just not out here. Not with me.
By midnight, Lynn became restless and weary. She had never been very good at staying still. If she had been alone, she would have scavenged or moved on. Then again, if she had been alone, she would probably be asleep by now.
Dani whimpered. It was a tiny sound, but in the quiet of the night it seemed deafening.
Lynn turned around to check what was wrong. Numbness and pain flared up simultaneously from her stiff back and cramped legs.
Dani was still asleep, but her face had scrunched up into a frown. She was having a nightmare—a pretty bad one by the looks of it. Her blanket slid off as she knocked her knee against the back of Lynn’s seat.
A glint caught Lynn’s eye.
Dani’s prized knife poked out from under her torso. It looked as if she had pressed the flat of the blade to her chest the way Lynn usually did but had dropped it as she’d rolled onto her front. Now the blade stuck out from under her belly, tip to Lynn. It was a miracle she hadn’t cut herself yet.
Dani jerked, and her arm narrowly missed the sharp edge.
“Shit.” She checked Dani’s face to find her out cold. Carefully, Lynn set down the tomahawk on the driver’s seat and turned until she could reach the knife tip through the gap between the seats. Her jacket slid off her shoulders. When she pulled gently, the blade didn’t budge an inch; the weight of Dani’s body pushed it down into the leather.
Dani whimpered and rolled farther onto her belly and buried the knife even more.
Lynn paused to reassess her strategy. I could just wake her. But then she would have to explain why she even cared in the first place. Human decency was only a good excuse when you hadn’t just told the other party to march off alone on a suicide mission. Lynn sat up on her knees to get a better view.