Page 69 of The Last Man on Earth
She lays her head on my shoulder, then she says, “I don’t know.”
Well, that’s two of us. But I think maybe I don’t need to know the answer right now. Maybe it doesn’t matter why we’re here. Maybe what matters is what we do with the situation.
We sit like this for a while, listening to the soft wind blowing through the trees, the calls of the birds, the distant roar of the waves. It’s so fuckin’ different from home. Back there, everybody needs something. Everybody’s pulling at me. Here, it’s just her, and it’s not a burden. I’m happy to do for her.
I kiss her forehead and hope the quiet means the same thing to her as it does to me.
WEEK 3
Chapter 32
Ari
Vincent’s shirt sticks tohis back as he raises the axe and drives it into the tree trunk. It’s the one our shelter is leaning against, nice and tall and thick.
The sound is sharp and hollow, but very satisfying—wood splitting, echoing through the air. For a brief second, I wonder if trees feel pain. I hope they don’t. But hell, if they did, would that stop humans from abusing them? Probably not.
He wipes the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. “If something comes at you, use these grooves to climb. Get up high as fast as you can. Don’t wait for me.”
I nod, watching as he gets back to work. He marks a path upward, the rough bark chipping under every swing. His shoulders strain. Muscles ripple. He’s thinner, leaner, but still very strong.
And he’s so…capablenow. Responsible. For me.
He turns to me, breathing hard, his smile triumphant. “I’ll be back with lunch and dinner,” he says as he sets the axe down and picks up his fishing rod.
Then he’s gone, disappeared through the trees.
I lace up my running shoes, then change my mind. I won’t normally be in them, especially at night. I put on my shower shoes instead and practice climbing the tree. The grooves Vincent carved work perfectly. They feel solid and reassuring. They’re the proof that he’s keeping me safe.
I take a seat in the shelter and close my eyes, imagining what I’d normally be doing right now on a…whatever day this is. Maybe sitting in an airport lounge drinking a bloody Mary before another flight. Maybe texting Ashara to tell her I’ll see her and the girls again in a few days. Maybe spending time with Luca.
But that all feels so far away now. Instead, I’m here, stuck on an island with a man who was just a stranger to me a few days…or weeks ago, waiting for him to come back home with our meal. It should feel insane and surreal, but instead, it feels normal now. That realization hits me harder than I expect. I don’t know if it’s good. I don’t know if it’s bad. It just…is.
When Vincent comes back, the sun is bright on his shoulders and his grin is wide.
“Look what I got.”
In one hand, two fish. In the other, a large crab, it’s claws bound with strips of fabric.
I smile big. “You did it.”
“I told you I would,” he says with a grin. “Give me a minute to cook this shit up.”
He builds a fire and sets the crab shell down on a flat rock next to the flames. The smell hits exactly how it’s supposed to, making my mouth water. The fish sizzles inside its leaf, fat seeping out of the sides.
We eat until we’re stuffed, juice running down our fingers. It feels like a special occasion. Something new to break up the monotony.
“You get enough?” he asks.
“Food? Yes.”
He chuckles. “Want me to eat your pussy?”
“Wow,” I laugh. “Just straight to the point, huh?”
“Straight, no chaser.”
Without another word, I climb into the shelter and lay on my back. He kneels on the ground in front of me, spreading my legs roughly.
