Christine lifted her hand. Christine had not bothered with maintaining her pre-apocalypse hairstyle. Her hair had been raven black before, and the remnants of that color still took up about four inches on the ends. The rest of her hair was blonde, giving her hair a stark two-tone. She had a few small tattoos on her arms–a skull and a Celtic cross.
“Christine is going to walk me down to where he is. You should probably wait here.”
I watched the two women walk away to my right on a path that led into the woods and toward the lake. Julio stared at me from beside the fire pit. He was shorter than me, but he was built like a tank. He was completely clean-shaven, including his head, which looked polished. I was impressed that he had managed to keep up with the cue ball look after all this time. He was wearing a black muscle shirt, which showed off not only his physique but also a dragon tattoo on his left arm that capped his shoulder and wrapped down to his elbow. He looked like he was in his early 30s.
“Hey,” I said from the truck.
“’S’up,” he said, giving his head a little jerk backward, sort of a reverse nod.
“Julio, right?”
“Julio.”
“Good to meet you,” I said.
He didn’t reply.
After an uncomfortable silence, he said, “So you’re him.”
“I suppose,” I said, nodding.
“You suppose,” he said. He sounded disgusted.
“Sara and I knew each other from before,” I said.
“Yeah, man. She talked about you a lot. She talked like you were a superman or something.”
“She said that? Well, I–“
“You don’t look like no superman to me, man.”
“I never claimed to be,” I said.
“Grant’s a cool dude, man,” Julio said. “He’s my boy. He saved my life twice. This is going to mess him up.”
“I know that,” I replied. “I wish it didn’t have to be that way.”
I heard some movement in the woods off to my left, and looked that direction, putting my hand on the butt of my pistol. Julio heard it too and lifted his shotgun. A young man, not much more than a kid, came over the rise of a hill and stumbled out of the woods. He had thick, wavy, dark hair that was down on his collar. He was carrying a fishing rod and tackle box, and there was a big revolver holstered on his hip.
“Whoa, Julio, watch the gun, bro.”
Julio lowered the shotgun, and the newcomer looked at me.
“Who’s this?” he said.
“Him,” Julio replied. “Sara’s boyfriend, man.”
“Oh,” he said, “him.”
He was tall, but not lanky; there was plenty of muscle there too. He would have fit in on any NBA team. I was sure he could don a chiton and be mistaken for a Greek god. Yet there was something about him that gave him a boyish look and made him seem smaller than he really was. It wasn’t just his face, which looked fresh and innocent, but it was also the way he carried himself. I felt like I had the upper had with him, even though I knew he could easily kick my ass. That might have been it: I knew he could kick my ass, but he didn’t know it. Perhaps it was a matter of confidence.
He stood at the edge of the clearing and looked back and forth between me and Julio.
“Has he come for her?” he said. Then he looked at me, “Have you?”
“Sara wants to talk to you,” I said. “She has gone down by the lake to find you.”
“I heard the truck come back, so I came up here as fast as I could.”
He put his fishing rod and tackle box on the ground, then came toward me. It startled me, and I didn’t know what to expect. He put his hand out. Hesitantly, I reached out and took it. His hand swallowed mine up. His grip was firm, and he looked me in the eye.
“It’s good to meet you,” he said, politely. “My name is Grant. I’ve heard a lot about you. I’m happy to see you survived. I’m sure Sara is happy about it as well.”
“Thank you,” I said, unsure what to say. I was stunned. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe this guy was so nice that he would understand.
I started
“Christine is going to walk me down to where he is. You should probably wait here.”
I watched the two women walk away to my right on a path that led into the woods and toward the lake. Julio stared at me from beside the fire pit. He was shorter than me, but he was built like a tank. He was completely clean-shaven, including his head, which looked polished. I was impressed that he had managed to keep up with the cue ball look after all this time. He was wearing a black muscle shirt, which showed off not only his physique but also a dragon tattoo on his left arm that capped his shoulder and wrapped down to his elbow. He looked like he was in his early 30s.
“Hey,” I said from the truck.
“’S’up,” he said, giving his head a little jerk backward, sort of a reverse nod.
“Julio, right?”
“Julio.”
“Good to meet you,” I said.
He didn’t reply.
After an uncomfortable silence, he said, “So you’re him.”
“I suppose,” I said, nodding.
“You suppose,” he said. He sounded disgusted.
“Sara and I knew each other from before,” I said.
“Yeah, man. She talked about you a lot. She talked like you were a superman or something.”
“She said that? Well, I–“
“You don’t look like no superman to me, man.”
“I never claimed to be,” I said.
“Grant’s a cool dude, man,” Julio said. “He’s my boy. He saved my life twice. This is going to mess him up.”
“I know that,” I replied. “I wish it didn’t have to be that way.”
I heard some movement in the woods off to my left, and looked that direction, putting my hand on the butt of my pistol. Julio heard it too and lifted his shotgun. A young man, not much more than a kid, came over the rise of a hill and stumbled out of the woods. He had thick, wavy, dark hair that was down on his collar. He was carrying a fishing rod and tackle box, and there was a big revolver holstered on his hip.
“Whoa, Julio, watch the gun, bro.”
Julio lowered the shotgun, and the newcomer looked at me.
“Who’s this?” he said.
“Him,” Julio replied. “Sara’s boyfriend, man.”
“Oh,” he said, “him.”
He was tall, but not lanky; there was plenty of muscle there too. He would have fit in on any NBA team. I was sure he could don a chiton and be mistaken for a Greek god. Yet there was something about him that gave him a boyish look and made him seem smaller than he really was. It wasn’t just his face, which looked fresh and innocent, but it was also the way he carried himself. I felt like I had the upper had with him, even though I knew he could easily kick my ass. That might have been it: I knew he could kick my ass, but he didn’t know it. Perhaps it was a matter of confidence.
He stood at the edge of the clearing and looked back and forth between me and Julio.
“Has he come for her?” he said. Then he looked at me, “Have you?”
“Sara wants to talk to you,” I said. “She has gone down by the lake to find you.”
“I heard the truck come back, so I came up here as fast as I could.”
He put his fishing rod and tackle box on the ground, then came toward me. It startled me, and I didn’t know what to expect. He put his hand out. Hesitantly, I reached out and took it. His hand swallowed mine up. His grip was firm, and he looked me in the eye.
“It’s good to meet you,” he said, politely. “My name is Grant. I’ve heard a lot about you. I’m happy to see you survived. I’m sure Sara is happy about it as well.”
“Thank you,” I said, unsure what to say. I was stunned. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe this guy was so nice that he would understand.
I started
Similar Books
The Billionaire's Jackpot: Betting on You Series: Book Four
Jeannette Winters
And the Bride Wore Prada
Katie Oliver
Accounting for Lust
Ylette Pearson
Cursed
Jennifer L. Armentrout
Moonrise
Cassidy Hunter
The Widow's Confession
Sophia Tobin
The Black Spider
Jeremías Gotthelf
The Autistic Brain: Thinking Across the Spectrum
Temple Grandin, Richard Panek
Again and Again
E. L. Todd