“I won’t… kiss you,” she said, softly.
Malcolm had turned his LED light on, and he could see the sad expression on her face. She looked tired and broken, so different from the feisty, confident woman he’d met in Terri’s Tavern months earlier. It felt like both of them had lived an entire lifetime since then, and he suddenly wondered if he looked to her as worn down as she did to him.
“Clothes!” he said, as his eyes wandered down to her bra clad breasts. “Uh, it’s all men’s stuff. Probably baggy on you, but better than nothing. Take your pick.”
He gestured over to the sad pile of somewhat dirty clothing on the ground that his wardrobe consisted of. Chaste Widow nodded and slowly started looking through them.
“I need to get us food,” said Malcolm. “I’m going to leave the lock by the ladder while I’m gone, okay? Just so you can still leave, if you want.”
She didn’t answer him. He wondered if she understood exactly how much trust he was placing in her. If she wanted to, she could snap the combination lock on the inside of the hatch as soon as he left and steal Malcolm’s hideout for herself.
And what an impressive hideout it is. No food, no running water. Truly an estate fit of a king.
“I’ll be back as soon as I find something,” he said. “Don’t expect filet mignon.”
That got a small smile out of her. Malcolm felt himself grinning in response. He climbed out of the hideout, martialing his trust as he closed the hatch behind him.
One of the fish traps had done its job in the time since Malcolm had last checked it. He grinned as he pulled an impressively sized fish out of the net and thwacked it once against the rocks. His log trap was still empty, but in the process of checking it, he discovered a rabbit in the bushes nearby and managed to get his foot down on top of it.
It was a better catch than he’d had in days. He smiled to himself as he tied it to his belt. The bushes where he’d found the rabbit were full of wild raspberries, and he filled his pockets with as many as he could.
Chaste Widow was outside the hideout when he got back. She’d picked up one of his rags and soaked it with water, and was slowly cleaning herself up as best she could. She’d taken off her bra and panties, and Malcolm felt a conflicting mixture of emotions as he approached, doing his best not to ogle her naked body.
“Uh…” he said. “I’m back.”
She put an arm over her breasts and glanced over her shoulder at him. Her eyes lit up when she saw the food on his belt.
“I’ll have to make a fire up above so we can cook,” he said. “I can wait for you to finish, though.”
“I’m as clean as I’m going to get,” she said.
She pulled her panties back on, along with one of Malcolm’s shirts, and then walked over to him.
“Here.” Malcolm pulled the berries out of his pockets. “You can snack on these while you’re waiting.”
Chaste Widow took half of them. Malcolm grinned at her and made a show of eating the half he had left in a couple of wolfish bites.
She followed him down the ladder as he went to get his fire-starting kit, and then back up. Malcolm spent a couple of minutes gathering loose newspaper and bits of wood to use as kindling. Chaste Widow kept following him, almost like a lonely puppy. She carried some of the wood, but didn’t say anything.
Malcolm built his materials into a fire bundle and started striking at his flint. He glanced up at her a couple of times. She’d meet his gaze now, and it made emotion flutter in his chest when she did. He had no idea what to say to her. He wanted to ask how she’d been, but it wasn’t a question that he thought she’d be comfortable answering.
And likewise, the last thing he wanted to talk about was his own descent into the dirt and grime of the post-collapse world. An awkward silence hung on the air between them, and as much as Malcolm hated it, it was still preferable to dredging up painful memories.
“I’m sorry,” said Chaste Widow, as Malcolm started to cook their food on sticks over the small flame.
“You’re… sorry?” asked Malcolm. “For what?”
“I broke my promise to you.”
It took him a couple of seconds to realize what she’d meant. In one of his last jobs as a champion, Malcolm and Tapestry had hunted Chaste Widow. He’d made a judgement call, letting her go instead of taking her prisoner. He’d made her promise to stop killing, in exchange.
Is that a promise anyone could hold to in this new world? Especially an attractive woman?
Malcolm shook his head.
“It’s okay,” he said. “I’ve broken a lot of promises, too.”
He didn’t elaborate any further, and tried keep his thoughts from turning back to Tapestry and Rose, and all the pain he’d caused them.
“It wasn’t… like I wanted to,” said Chaste Widow. “I didn’t have a choice. In the first few weeks, I lost my house. Money stopped mattering. There was no law, and men would just try to… force me. And die, from my kiss.”
“You don’t have to explain it to me,” said Malcolm.
“It was all I had,” said Chaste Widow. “My power actually felt like something useful, for once. But it wasn’t enough, in the end. Your powers were like a sword. Mine was just… a tiny knife.”
“A sword…” said Malcolm. “Ha.”
A sword that I’ll never be able wield again.
He’d spent more time than he cared to admit in the months after losing his powers, trying desperately to summon them back. He would set up his empty water jugs and concentrate with all the will he had, trying to control the wind and knock them over as easily as it once had.
It’d never worked, and always left him feeling like a ridiculous child, playing at being a Jedi or being stuck in The Matrix. His powers were gone. He’d accepted it. It meant being less than he’d once been, acknowledging a weakness, a deformity. It made him feel like a paraplegic that’d lost all hope and finally accepted that they would never walk again.
“Smoke,” said Chaste Widow.
Malcolm glanced at the skinned rabbit he was cooking over the fire. It was starting to burn on one side.
“Oh,” he said. “Right.”
He put the fire out once the rabbit and fish were cooked. He didn’t have any plates or silverware, so he and Chaste Widow impatiently waited for the spitted meat to cool before digging into it with bare hands. The rabbit was tender and greasy. The fish was a little undercooked. Neither of them cared, and devoured both in far less time than it had taken Malcolm to prepare.
“Thank you,” said Chaste Widow.
“You’re welcome,” said Malcolm. “I think this is the first meal I’ve shared with someone else in months.”
She furrowed her brow at that.
“What about your friends?” she asked. “The other champions.”
My friends…?
Malcolm couldn’t stop himself from chuckling.
“I’m not a champion anymore,” he said. “And as for having friends…”
He shook his head. Chaste Widow gave him a pitying look, which coming from her, carried a significant weight.
“Can I stay here tonight?” she asked.
Malcolm nodded immediately. He’d only recently begun to discover how alone he was, and he didn’t like it.
“Of course,” he said.
CHAPTER 5
The two of them spent some time in quiet companionship, neither of them saying much. Malcolm made another trip out to his traps, finally finding the energy to set up a second log trap and improve the fish nets. By the time he made it back to his hideout, the sun had long since set over the horizon.
Chaste Widow had decided to stick around, and Malcolm offered her his mattress for the night. Her injuries were more pronounced than his, and it made him feel good inside to act as a generous host.