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    As she turned to kiss him, her eyes locked onto a jar on the far side of the aisle. She stopped mid-pucker and said, “Whoa.”
    It was peanut butter.
    Organic peanut butter. Chunky organic peanut butter. The holy grail of post-apocalyptic treats. Peanut butter had a long shelf life. Back when there was still an Internet, she’d watched a video of a man eating sixty-year-old peanut butter rations from the Korean War. If the expiration date, which was more of a suggestion to keep food moving off the shelf, was early enough, there would be no fear of ExoGenetic contamination. They could eat it. All of it. And there were at least thirty jars.
    Jakob picked up a jar, twisted it in his hand and smiled wide. “Jackpot.” He lifted the jar and looked inside. “It’s separated—”
    “Organic peanut butter is always separated.”
    “Well then, it’s perfect.” Jakob looked up and down the aisle. “Now we just need to find some coconut oil and dark chocolate and we’ll be in business.”
    Both items, when organic, were on Ella’s safe list. Coconut was not an ExoGenetic crop, and organic, free-trade chocolate was one of the last crops to be overrun. They also had very long shelf lives. If the dates were right, they could have the makings of an epic snack, unlike anything she’d had in two years. Her mouth watered, but the food took a sudden back seat when Jakob, in his excitement, wrapped her in his arms and kissed her.
    They had kissed before. A lot. Their awkward first kiss had been back at her farmhouse, in the biodome, just a few feet from where her mother had been buried. They had never met, but shared a kiss that expressed their elation at finally meeting. There had been many more kisses, snuck in during brief private moments. In the darkness of night. When Anne fell asleep in the truck and the parents were looking out the front. But this...this was different. This was passionate.
    When they separated, Jakob looked bewildered. “I guess peanut butter is an aphrodisiac.”
    Alia said nothing. She just took him by the hand and led him away.
    “Where are we going?”
    “Bathroom,” she said. “I saw them in the corner of the store.”
    “Why?”
    “I have to pee.” That was the truth, and she never passed up a toilet, whether or not they flushed. But that wasn’t the whole truth, and as Jakob’s hand grew sweaty in hers, he knew it, too.
    When they reached the door to the women’s room, she put her hand on his chest and said, “Wait here.”
    He looked a little surprised, but said, “You really do have to pee. I thought that was like code or something.”
    “Real and code,” she said.
    “Hold on.” Jakob pushed the bright blue door open slowly, aiming his rifle inside the room, scanning it from side to side. With no signs of danger or even a bad smell, he stepped aside and held the door open for her. “Your throne awaits.”
    “Be just a minute.” Alia said and stepped inside. When the door was closed, she tried to let herself feel normal. It’s just a bathroom.
    She opened the first stall. The toilet was pristine and empty. There were few things more disappointing than a post-apocalyptic toilet that hadn’t been flushed.
    Just pretend the power is out, she told herself, dropping her pants and sitting on the cool seat. When she was done peeing, she reached for toilet paper and smiled. It was a simple thing, but she’d gone without it too many times. Once was too many times. It was a stupid thing, but it brought her joy, and as she wadded it up, wiped and then stood to pull up her pants, she was lost in the moment. Her hands moved on muscle memory, first buckling her belt, and then reaching back and pushing the small metal lever.
    Her mind woke up as the lever shifted downward. She flinched her hand away, but it was too late. Water pressure that had been contained for years exploded into the toilet with uproarious urgency.
    The bathroom door burst open. “Alia!”
    She stepped out of the