It felt a little futile to me. Ed had started out as a normal guy, a bookkeeper. Would we all wind up like him; slowly forgetting our humanity in the daily struggle to survive? And when the world filled with people like Ed—bandits, murderers, rapists, arsonists—what good would a few bars on the doors do?

Chapter 12

By bedtime I was exhausted and sore. Everyone else started to bed down on the living room floor, but Darla grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the stairs. “It’s freezing up there,” I complained.

“I’ll make sure you’re warm enough,” Darla whispered, grinning at me.

My resistance evaporated. I’m sure Uncle Paul and Aunt Caroline noticed us leaving, but they didn’t say anything. Before we’d started all sleeping in the same room for warmth in April, Darla and I had shared the guest room. At first my aunt and uncle had balked, but when they discovered we were sneaking out of our separate rooms every night anyway, they relented.

We got extra blankets and comforters out of the linen closet and heaped them on Max’s old bed. I took off my boots, coat, and coveralls. Even with three layers of shirts still on, I was freezing. I turned down the oil lamp to its lowest setting, and we dove under the covers, pulling them up over our heads.

Darla pushed her back up against me, spooning for warmth. I wrapped my right arm over her and cupped my hand over her left breast. She moved my hand down to her stomach and held it there—which sort of sucked—but holding hands was nice.

“I don’t know how to say this right.” Darla hesitated. “But you do realize that your parents might already be dead?”

I swallowed hard on the first reply that occurred to me: She was probably right.

She went on, “If they are dead, we’re taking a big risk going into Iowa looking for them. We could get killed or trapped in another FEMA camp for nothing.”

“Yeah.” I fell silent for a moment. “But I’ve gotta know for sure.”

“We might not be able to find out.”

“What, you don’t want to go? You volunteered—I didn’t ask you. It’s not like I’m dragging you.”

“That’s not it. You’re not going anywhere without me, doof.”

I squeezed my arm around her, hugging her tighter.

“All I was trying to say, trying to do, was to keep your expectations real. We might find them, sure. But they might be dead, or we might never even find out where they are or what happened to them.”

“Never finding out what happened to them—that might suck worse than finding out they’re dead.”

“Yeah, it might.” Darla let go of my hand and started stroking my arm, which seemed strange at first but was somehow comforting.

We lay together in silence. Talking about my parents hadn’t been particularly arousing, but now, with her hair brushing my face, her hands on my arms, and her body stretched out against mine, pressing into, well, everything, I started to get uncomfortably cramped. So I began softly nibbling on her neck.

Darla closed her eyes and sighed. I moved up to kiss her ear.

She laughed and pulled her head away. “You know that tickles.”

“Yeah, but you’re so cute when you giggle.”

“I do not giggle. Never have, never will.”

“Whatever.” I bent back toward her neck, but Darla fended me off with a hand.

“You’ve got to quit giving away kale seeds like a pedophile with lollipops.”

“Huh?” I said. “Where’d that come from?”

“We need them to buy information—maybe to buy your parents’ freedom.”

“I know, but I’ve still got seventeen packets.”

“We didn’t need to give that bandit anything.”

“I didn’t exactly give him the seeds—I traded. For information. And look, if we repay brutality with more brutality, how does it end? We do something just a little bit worse every day, and soon enough we’re just like him.”

“We’ll never be like him.”

“Maybe not, but we need to cooperate, to rebuild. Someone’s got to start. And why’d you bring it up now?”

“We could buy other stuff with those seeds, too, you know,” she said in a husky voice.

“Other stuff?” I asked.

“Like more condoms, maybe.”

“Oh,” I said. “Good idea.”

Darla spun in my arms. Her knee dug into my thigh as she turned, but I was so aware of, um, other parts of her that I barely noticed. She tipped up her head and kissed me.

When the kiss ended, I said, “I think generosity makes you horny.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, last year after we helped Katie and her mom, you pretty much attacked me. And today we helped Ed—saved his life even though we didn’t really want to.”

“No, it’s stupidity that makes me horny.”

“That’s good then. I’m plenty stupid.”

“Yes.” Darla kissed me again. When she came up for air, she said, “You sure are.”

I smiled and started undressing her. I usually thought the worst part of the winter was the frostbite or risk of starvation. At that moment, the endless layers of clothes seemed worse.

“So . . . no condoms,” Darla said. “What do you want to do?”

“I’ll show you.”

Darla giggled and finished undressing me.

Chapter 13

Later, Darla lay on top of me, her head resting on my shoulder. Despite the cold, our skin was slick with sweat. I stroked her back slowly, feeling tired and more relaxed than I had since the bandits attacked. “I’ve got something for you,” I said.

“What?” Darla murmured.

I pushed a corner of the covers aside and started groping for my pants.

“Quit letting the cold air in,” Darla said.

I found what I was looking for in the pocket of my jeans. I pulled my hand into the tunnel of light the oil lamp cast into our cocoon and opened my palm, showing it to Darla. My face felt hot despite the cold air. I searched Darla’s eyes—trying to see any sign that she liked my gift.

“It’s . . . where’d you get it?” she asked.

“Belinda gave me the gold chain. I tried to buy it from her, but she said she had extras. I swiped the nut from Uncle Paul’s toolbox. You like it?”

“I love it.”

My face grew hotter yet, but now it was a happy warmth. Darla took the chain from me and clasped it around her neck. The nut slid down the chain until it lay on the sheet between us.

“Why’d you choose a 15/16ths? Nobody uses those.”

“That’s what I found. And anyway, I’ve always thought you were a sixteenth short of a full nut.”

Darla groaned and slugged my shoulder, but she was smiling. “What do you want to do now?”

“Um, get some sleep?” I capped the lamp and pulled the covers back over our heads.

“No, I mean after.”

“After what?”

“After we find your parents—or find out what happened to them.”

“Maybe things will change if we find them. Get better.”

“I don’t know . . .” Darla said.

“I guess we’ll come back here. Keep helping my uncle. As a family, we’ve got a shot at surviving the winter.”

“Your uncle’s okay, so don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re my family now.”

I wasn’t sure how to respond. I felt like I’d just shouldered a heavy backpack. Carrying that load was scary, but it felt good, too. Important. “The winter could last a decade.”

“I’m not scared.” Darla was whispering, but her voice sounded determined.

“I am,” I said. “But if we have to die in an endless winter, I’m glad we’re together. . . . I love you, you know.”

“I love you, too. And if we don’t have to die?”

“I used to think I’d finish high school, go to college.”

“That’s not gonna be an option,” Darla said. “Things will never be like that again. If you’re old enough to go to high school, then you’re old enough to work.”

“I thought I’d finish high school and go to college because my parents did. It wasn’t something we discussed much—it was just assumed.”

“You would’ve done great. You’re a helluva smart guy.”

“Am not,” I protested.

“With no common sense whatsoever,” Darla added. “Besides, I wasn’t asking about that. I was asking about us.”