Free SecondWorld by Jeremy Robinson Page B

sighed as he felt air move across his hand and saw the subtle rise and fall each breath brought to her chest. She was still alive and she had moved over on the bed. Before, she’d been on her back at the center of the bed, now she lay on her unburned side at the edge.
    She’d made room for him.
    He shook his head, wondering who was taking care of whom. That small gesture of companionship, he realized, had rallied his fighting spirit. He slipped out of his gear, placing the rebreather, handgun, water bottle, and several protein bars on the floor next to the bed. The exhaustion, chased away by the adrenaline of finding Arwen, returned with a vengeance.
    He climbed onto the other side of the bed, careful not to bump her little body with his. The bed was firm, but comfortable. The air smelled of burnt flesh and hair. He looked at the back of her head. Her blond hair had burned from the shoulders down, but the hair on top revealed the child she had once been.
    He ran his fingers through her hair and wondered if she’d been in one of the apartment fires he’d seen on the way to the hospital. Or perhaps her burns had happened before the catastrophe hit. There was no way to know, not now, anyway.
    As he stroked her hair he wondered what his life would have been like if he’d taken a different path. Could he settle down? Have kids? Could he put a little girl to sleep on a nightly basis? He wasn’t sure and had no real frame of reference. Kids never really took to him. What he felt positive about was that he was damn glad to have found Arwen alive. On his own, he might get depressed, or distracted by the horrible setting. But with a child to protect, he’d be at the top of his game. He wouldn’t let the kid die. Not this time.
    *   *   *
     
    He dreamed of the desert. Of her —nameless and beautiful—dark curly hair cut just below the ears to make her look like a boy. More memory than dream, the nightmare had plagued him for years. The girl was no more than ten years old. Her dark brown eyes tore into him across the distance and through the binoculars. He left the safety of his position and ran for the girl. She stood at the edge of the target zone—an Iraqi radar station—but without cover, she’d be cut down. Ten miles away, the BGM-109 Tomahawk missile called in by his team switched from a solid propellant to its low-heat turbofan engine, finalizing its descent. That’s when she saw him coming … and ran the other way.
    *   *   *
     
    When he woke in the morning, he sat up straight, confused by the shield of white surrounding him. But then he remembered where he was and who he was with. He leaned over Arwen’s little body and watched her chest. She was still breathing. It seemed, for the time being, that he had managed to save this child.
    Stiff and sore, he climbed out of the bed. After donning his gear and switching out Arwen’s IV bag he unwrapped a protein bar, lifted his mask, and took a bite. Ugh, he thought, looking at the label. Chocolate Cherry Nut. Tastes like shit.
    Wandering over to the windows, he stared out at the world below. Orange light spilled over the city, reflecting off the high-rises and setting piles of red dust aglow. The sun rose over Miami, glinting off a distant billboard. The giant sign featured two sports cars, one red, the other silver. The logo read TESLA MOTORS .
    Tesla Motors.
    A grin formed on his face. He’d just discovered his first bit of good luck. Tesla cars ran completely on electricity. They didn’t use combustion. They didn’t require oxygen!
    Miller squinted as he read the address given on the billboard. He quickly found it on his map, marked the location, and said, “Arwen.” When the girl didn’t respond, he repeated her name more loudly. She groaned as she awoke.
    “You snore,” she said.
    Miller smiled. “Sorry, but listen—”
    “I’m hungry. And thirsty. Weren’t you supposed to get me something to drink?”
    His smile broadened. He unwrapped