Free Sundered by Shannon Mayer Page A

drug I was so allergic to, rushing through his system.
     
    I followed him downstairs where he grabbed the flashlight, a hammer and the big kitchen knife. In the dim light he looked like a burglar, which was appropriate considering what he was going to do.
     
    “ Did you write me a list at least? I don’t want any complaints that you didn’t get everything you wanted.” He smiled at me, trying to ease the tension I suppose. I let out a breath, knowing he was going to do this whether I wanted him to or not. I was losing the battle in large part because I knew he was right. I needed him to get food and supplies, and he needed to do this one last thing for me, to be my husband and knight in shining armour.
     
    I sat down and lit a candle so I could see enough to write. The list was simple, any preserves he could carry, batteries, feminine hygiene products, Benadryl or other allergy medicine—any medicine for that matter—bow and arrow set, garden seeds … I tapped the pencil against my teeth. What else was there?
     
    I shrugged. “I can’t think of anything else.”
     
    Sebastian took the list from me and tucked it into his pocket. “I don’t know how long I’ll be, babe, but try not to worry.” He bent and kissed me goodbye, patted Nero on the head, and then blew out the candle. As he left, the door clicking behind him, a sense of finality settled over me. This was it, in little more than a week I would truly be on my own. This was like a test run on what was about to be the rest of my life.
     
    I sat there till the sun rose, warming the room and forcing me to admit in the light of day that I was on my own.
     
    I cleaned the house, pulled weeds in the defunct garden, checked fences, pulled water from the well, picked rocks out of the lawn and small pasture, and washed the clothes by hand, hanging them to dry on a makeshift clothesline. By late afternoon I had done a lot and was eyeing up the axe and woodpile. Sebastian was right. I was going to have to learn to do this on my own.
     
    Never having chopped wood in my entire life left me wondering if there was a technique or a method to the process. I scratched my head a moment, then pulled out a fir log that needed to be split, standing it up on end as I’d seen Sebastian do. Before my first swing I pulled the tennis ball I kept in my pocket out and threw it into the field for Nero. He blasted off after it and I had my chance to swing without fear of hitting my pup. I held the very end of the axe handle and gripped it like I would a baseball bat, then with one swing I brought it down, missing the log entirely and burying it into the dirt at my feet.
     
    Rough laughter reached my ears and I spun to see Scout watching me, sitting at the gate. The dirty little bastard was laughing at my attempt. I flipped him off and he flapped his hands at me, as if egging me on. It was strange to see glimpses of a human personality inside what I viewed now as a large, predatory animal. They weren’t zombies and they weren’t mindless. They really did seem to act like a pack of wolves, hunting their food and sharing it amongst them. I’d even seen them eating shrubs and berries, though it didn’t seem to satisfy them any more than eating large amounts of meat. I let out a snort and tried again, this time giving the log a glancing blow. That’ll teach it. Yeah, right.
     
    I took a deep breath, stared at the log right where I wanted to hit it and brought the axe down for a third time. The axe bit into the center of the fir, dividing it cleanly in half. I dropped the axe in surprise and then did a dance around the two pieces. Again laughter reached my ears, but I ignored Scout. This was a great moment, one I could be proud of. But with no one to share it with, it was more than a little bittersweet.
     
    I chopped a few more pieces gaining proficiency until my hands began to hurt and blister, then proceeded to stack the wood in with the rest, throwing the ball in between