Free The No Where Apocalypse (Book 2): Surviving No Where by E.A. Lake Page A

Her hand beat me to it.
    “I can take care of that myself,” she said, her words tighter than a moment ago.
    I begged with my eyes for forgiveness. “Please,” I insisted, “let me.”
    She acquiesced with a curt nod, turning back towards Nate.
    “Will you show me where the well is, Nate?” Her tone shifted to sweet and light.  
    I watched the trio make their way off the road, through the ditch and across my yard. Daisy set her daughter down midway and took both Libby and Nate by the hand.
    I reached for the cart handle but my hand slipped off. Lifting my palm, I found sweat — something I hadn’t expected. I dried my hand on my shorts and pulled the wagon after them.

    I watched the woman and her child take sips of water from red plastic cups. Nate took great joy in showing off his strength to the pair, pushing the long handle of the pump. The squeaks of the ups and downs were punctuated by giggles from the girl and thanks from her mother.
    Moving in close behind the pair, I noticed an odd smell by the pump. Something had died nearby, and the smell became stronger the closer I came to the pump.
    Nate grinned making a few more pumps, the water splashing against the worn cement pad. Libby held her cup out another time and I heard the water gurgle inside. I inched closer, trying to figure out what the smell was and where it was coming from.
    Creeping behind Daisy, I halted suddenly. Several more sniffs and I causally leaned towards the top of her head — her hair more specifically. Another sniff — smell found.
    She spun quickly and caught me mid-inhale. I backed away bit, and she chased after me.
    “Do you make a habit of sneaking up behind women and sniffing their hair?” she asked in a harsh tone. “Women you’ve just met?”
    Shooting her a quick smile, cheesy I’m sure, I raised my hands. “I was just trying to locate a smell I couldn’t put my mind around,” I admitted, hoping she didn’t pull the pistol again.
    “Fish camp,” she answered, nodding and taking another sip of water. “It takes a while to get rid of.”
    I cocked my head. “Pardon? I don’t think I follow.”
    Placing a hand on her hip she looked at me as if I were half-crazy. “I’ve been at a fish camp for the past year,” she answered, her tone lightening. “Needed to be able to eat and feed two kids. Fish camps always need help.”
    I nodded, smiling as I did. “I get it. Did you just leave? Just wondering; the smell is still fairly strong.”
    Her eyes rolled left, then right, as her lips twisted opposite directions. “Probably been a month, maybe six weeks I suppose.” She leaned closer to me and took a large whiff. “You don’t smell like no spring daisy yourself, Bob. When was the last time you cleaned up?”
    Nate laughed at the pump. “My sister tells him that all the time. You’re just like Violet, Daisy.”
    Daisy grinned and steered Libby back towards the front yard. “I think I’d like this sister of yours, Nate. She sounds like a straight shooter. Where’s your shovel, Bob?” she called over her shoulder.
    “I can dig that for you,” I offered, chasing after her like a stupid little puppy.
    She stopped and turned, serious again. “I didn’t ask you for any help. I can take care of it myself. Brendon was my child.”
    “Really, I don’t mind. I want to help.”
    Stroking her dirty face, she stared me down harshly. Tiny nods finally followed. “That would be very nice of you. I appreciate your kindness. Maybe there are decent men left in this wretched world.”
    I ran to the pit, where I stored my tools, for the shovel. Standing still for a second, I caught my breath. My heart was racing a little. Not enough to startle me; just enough to give me pause. I snuck a peek back at the woman, Daisy. Her blond hair, delicate features, soft whimsical voice. Yeah, that made it increase again, just like I thought.

Year 3 - mid summer - WOP

    Daisy and I buried her son in a shallow grave on the south side of