Page 47 of Kiss Across the Universe
“It lives in the truck. When I’m at work, it lives in whatever car I’m in.”
“You’re a prepper?”
“I’m a survivor.” He moved the pack to the end of the tray and lowered the gate. “I spend too much time away from civilization to risk being caught without basic gear.” He dug in the pack and withdrew a coil of blue nylon rope and moved back along the side of the truck. “Come here.”
“The longer we stay here, the closer Iron Grey gets. Vampires can move fast, you know.”
He glanced at her. “I do, now.” He pulled the plastic wrapped bison closer to him and wrapped the rope around it. “Here.”
She moved closer. “What are you doing?”
“Taking it with us. Turn around.”
She held still. “You’re going to put that on my back?”
“You haven’t got the strength to carry the pack,” he told her. “And you’ll get tired too fast carrying this in your arms. You’ll need your hands, anyway.”
“Wehaveto take it with us?”
“It’s this, or you get to eat whatever I can catch between now and sunset. A snake, maybe. Squirrels. There’s lots of them around, still.”
Alannah sighed. She’d never eaten bison, although foodies she knew raved about it. It had been all the rage at the trendy restaurants in L.A. a couple of years ago. “A steak sounds better than a snake,” she admitted.
Kit grinned. “It is. By miles,” he agreed. “Turn around.”
She turned and lifted her arms as he instructed. He slid the rope over her arms, just like a backpack. The rope had been doubled on both sides. “It shouldn’t dig into your shoulders too much,” Kit said. “It’s not heavy.”
“Glad you think so,” Alannah murmured. She shifted her arms and shoulders, trying to settle the odd package more comfortably.
“We’ll head out for a mile or two, then stop and resettle everything,” Kit told her. He moved around to the tailgate, and bent and slipped his arms into the backpack loops, and stood, the backpack on his back. He closed the gate and pulled the cover back over the tray, and locked it. “Ready?”
“To head into the wilderness? Not even close,” she said. “But let’s go before I change my mind. Which direction?”
“Across the highway, then east-northeast.”
She nodded. “That, I can do.” She hitched the ropes and her unconventional pack and tried not to think about what was lying against her back. “Let’s go.”
Crossing the highway made herheart skip, but they made it across without any cars blaring horns at them or the RCMP pulling up to arrest them for endangering drivers or wandering on state land.
They clambered carefully over the triangular concrete barriers next to the northbound lanes, and slipped into the trees on the other side.
Alannah slapped at the mosquitos that tried to eat her bare arms as she worked to keep up with Kit’s measured but ground swallowing pace. She quickly learned that her shoes were going to be a real problem. They grew wet from the moisture on the ground, then stretched as she walked, and constantly slipped off her feet.
She paused dozens of times to put them back on and wondered if Kit had string or tape in his pack that she could use to tie them on. Then she would hurry to catch up with him, only to repeat the process a hundred yards farther on.
Kit finally stopped and lowered the pack to the ground.
“I’m sorry,” Alannah told him, hurrying up to where he waited for her. “My shoes won’t stay on my feet.”
He shook his head. “We’re about a mile in from the highway. We can afford to stop for a bit. And I can do something about the shoes.”
Relief touched her. She carefully slipped the ropes from her shoulders.
“Not on the ground,” Kit said, as she lowered the bison down.
She looked around, puzzled. “Where, then?” There was only grass-covered earth and trees anywhere she looked.
“Hang it from a tree branch.”
