Unbound: (InterMix) Read Online Free PDF Page A

no-nonsense.”
    “I’m not a fan of nonsense, so I suppose that suits me.”
    “Not a city type?”
    He considered it. “Not in recent years. I grew up in the city, and I loved it as a
     younger man . . .” Loved it too much, in all the wrong ways. “But people change.”
    “You must miss it
sometimes
, though.”
    Some days he did. Missed the pub and the off-license, first and foremost, with an
     ache like lust. “There’s nothing there that ever did me much good.”
    “Nothing?”
    “It brings out the worst in people, living like that. In such a hurry, all crushed
     up against one another.” He hesitated before adding, “It brought out the worst in
     me, anyhow.”
    “Can I ask what you did, before you moved up here?”
    “I owned a couple businesses around Leeds, with a mate of mine. Nothing too thrilling.”
     Not the way he’d imagined it would be, when they’d been fresh out of university. But
     how could a blossoming alcoholic not be ecstatic at the prospect of opening his own
     bar? That was like a fire-starter taking a job in a match factory. And accordingly,
     Rob’s life had gone up in spectacular flames.
    “From businessman to hermit,” she mused, smiling. “No offense.”
    “The shoe fits.”
    “How about ‘survivalist’? That sounds a bit nicer.”
    “I’m not bothered what anyone calls me, these days.” He wasn’t bothered about much
     of anything, as long as he knew there was food to put in his stomach, wood for the
     stove, a bed to kip on. Not caring suited him down to the ground. Just keep his belly
     full and his head empty, keep those old, dark hungers from growling.
    Merry yawned broadly.
    “You must be knackered.”
    She nodded. “I slept, but it wasn’t restful. All those trippy, repetitive dreams you
     get when you’re nauseous.”
    “I’ve got some chores to tend to, but let me show your where the loo is, then feel
     free to sleep.”
    She set down her mug and made it uneasily to her feet. He nearly offered her a hand,
     then chickened out, intimidated by the intimacy. Intimidated by her weakness. Once
     she was steady, he led her through the little storage area and out the rear door.
     “Watch the step down.”
    She followed him across the yard and he pointed out the wooden closet that housed
     the most rudimentary of composting toilets. On the way back he filled a big enamel
     basin from the pump, carried it inside and set it on the stove.
    He fed two logs to the fire. “Water should be warm in an hour or so, if you fancy
     a wash.”
    “Thank you.” Merry settled again in the rocking chair.
    Rob was feeling marginally more at ease, having endured an actual conversation with
     his guest. He draped a clean hand towel over the basin’s lip and fetched the wool
     throw from his tiny bedroom, passing it to her.
    “I’ll try to stay within shouting distance. If you need privacy to change or get cleaned
     up, I’ll be outside for at least a couple hours. I doubt you’ll need any more wood
     for the stove, but if you do, there’s a stack by the rear door.”
    “Thanks.”
    He grabbed his jacket from its hook and downed the last of his cold tea. “I haven’t
     got much food that’s ready to eat.”
    “I have tons in my pack. I’ll be fine.”
    He nodded. “I’ll see you in a bit, then.”
    Her smile caught him just before he turned, leaving his middle warm and queasy. He
     shut the door quietly at his back.
    Rob did the usual weekly rounds, walking the length of the pipe that fed the pump
     and making sure it was sound. He kept a supply of cured fish and venison in a sturdy
     plastic barrel set into the earth just beyond the yard, and he checked the planks
     that covered it and the surrounding ground for signs of scavengers, pleased to not
     find any. A quick poke through the garden told him the last of the year’s potatoes
     were as ready as they were going to get. He’d tackle those tomorrow.
    With a soft jingling, Rob’s only friend appeared, a