Page 33 of Protected

We find some only slightly damaged plastic products that we can use—old summer-themed tumblers, resealable baggies, and disposable utensils—plus a sleeping bag and a few battery-operated lanterns from what must have been a small camping section. But it’s not until Deck andMicah together lift an enormous shelf that we find anything valuable enough to make the trip worth it.

First aid supplies and bottles of pain reliever were preserved in near-perfect condition by the shelter of the rubble. Cal probably couldn’t lift that shelf on his own, which is the only reason the treasures still remain for us to uncover.

We fill our bags with Advil, aspirin, Tylenol, Band-Aids, antibiotic cream, self-adhering athletic wrap, and hydrogen peroxide. When we have no more room in our bags and there’s still more to be had, I find a water-logged box of black garbage bags and detach a few from the middle of the roll where they were protected.

After the garbage bags are filled, we take all our loot back to the ATVs and have trouble figuring out a way to carry it all with us.

“Shoulda taken a truck,” Micah mutters as we work on strapping bags onto the back of his vehicle.

“I think we can get it all,” I say, hoping these garbage bags are indeed as hefty as advertised. When I see Deck frowning at the lowering sun at the horizon, I add, “It’s going to be dark in an hour, so we need to get going.”

Since we strapped more of the bags onto Micah’s ATV, I climb on behind Deck. But as soon as he turns the ignition, the engine makes a puttering sound and a loud clack.

“Shit,” I mutter as Deck’s body tenses up. I can feel it acutely because my chest is pressing against his back.

Micah puts his ATV back into park and gets off so that he and Deck can peer in at the engine of the second one.Both men have basic, utilitarian knowledge of mechanics, but whatever is wrong with this engine doesn’t easily reveal itself.

I have no experience with fixing vehicles at all, so I stand back with my arms crossed over my chest, stewing as I watch the sun get lower and lower.

Even in a large group, it’s not safe to travel at night. There are far too many criminal types around who do their worst in the dark. Not to mention desperate animals who are too hungry to follow their natural instincts of reserve and retreat.

This is not good.

Not good at all.

“Shit,” Micah says, stepping back and wiping sweat off his forehead with the back of his forearm. “We’re fucked.”

Deck glances back at the sunset—mostly gray with just a slight tinge of pink—and points toward Micah before he signs “go home” with his hands.

“Yeah,” I say, nodding at him. “He’s saying you need to drive home now. Take those supplies with you and head back as quick as you can. Then tomorrow morning, someone can come get me and Deck.”

“Y’all can’t stay here on your own.” Micah looks around dubiously at the darkening forest. “It’s too dangerous.”

Deck signs again, gesturing toward me.

“No.” I narrow my eyes at him. “I’m not going with Micah. I won’t fit with all the supplies, and you can’t stay here on your own. It’s dangerous enough with two people. On your own is an absolute no. We can hole up in thebuilding and take turns staying on guard.” I turn again toward Micah. “Just get back here as early as you can tomorrow morning.”

I’m not thrilled about spending the night in an unknown and insecure location, but Hal and I managed for a long time doing exactly that. It’s better than any other option we have available.

And there’s no way in hell I’m leaving Deck to his own devices when there’s a good chance we would come back tomorrow morning to find him dead.

Or not find him at all, which would be even worse.

Deck scowls at me but doesn’t argue further, so Micah helps us find a defensible corner of the building, assures himself we’ll be okay, and then takes off into the evening with promises that they’ll leave at dawn tomorrow to rescue us.

Micah’s trip alone will be almost as dangerous as our night holed up here, but at least on the ATV he’ll have a good chance of outrunning any predators.

Deck and I go to the bathroom before we settle on the floor in the corner. There’s a minefield of litter between us and the entrance, so we’ll hear if anyone or anything approaches. We both have our guns at the ready.

We should be okay.

We eat the last of the jerky and bread we brought with us, and then I walk several feet and lean down to grab a small item where I’d seen a flash of red earlier.

It’s a bag of Skittles. Untorn, uncrushed, and unopened. The bag is dirty, but the candy is still clean andin good condition, so Deck and I split it, sitting side by side against the wall with our legs extended.

It’s sweet and slightly tart and tastes strongly artificial. But good. Familiar.

For some reason the taste of it makes me want to cry.

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