Unlikely Stranger

The sun warped off the land in waves of heat, sending the arms of a dry, dead tree shimmering in the distance. Some days were cooler, but today was a close cousin to hades.  

Through scalding heavy downpours and heat spells, we climbed from the south in search of a place cool enough to exist long term. It was Dad’s idea to hide in the shade of Terrible Mountain. We lived because of him. Not much else survived.  

A cockroach skittered across my boot. Nothing killed them, not even the end of the world. I couldn’t squish him. Anything surviving thus far deserved its place in the world. 

I hummed a tune, setting up the survival gear when the fine hairs on the back of my neck stood to attention. Over my shoulder, I sensed a movement. We’d been alone for so long, we knew there wasn’t anyone nearby, but my mind still played tricks on me. A glance confirmed my perpetually solitary existence, and the fact my woodpile was empty. I’d have to make a run with only an hour to work with, before the scalding rains. I grabbed my day covering and took off. 

I’d almost reached my destination when rocks slid down the steep face of the mountain. I slowed, listening under the bare arms of a heavily forested mountain. “Is someone there?” 

Silence reigned so resolutely my ears rang. I’d probably kicked the rocks myself. Instead of fighting the sweltering heat, I breathed it in, nostrils burning. In nature’s arms, the rising tide of panic finally calmed. 

It was good to reset. I wasn’t hearing someone. My mind was responding to the trauma of losing everyone. Up here, there was still some life. Even bare as they were, the tree limbs protected Terrible Mountain from the worst the sun dealt.

A branch cracked in the distance. I shook my head. “I’m not going there.” I rose and continued on. Survivors couldn’t give in to panic. I didn’t have long until the rains came, and I wasn’t near the caverns for protection if I got caught out. 

In a forest of dead trees, the wood creaked, triggering memories of the end. If, for some reason, this panic-stricken survivor's guilt got the best of me, then what hope did I have of continued survival. 

As I collected fallen pieces driven down by the harsh winds, my heart dreamt I had a secret admirer who’d come to rescue me from my solitary life. I grabbed kindling, and as I turned toward home, I danced with it as if it were a great bouquet of flowers my admirer gave to me. 

Even as sure-footed as I was, the thunderous crash of a nearby tree sent me twisting on a raised root. My load spread as far as I could see from where my face was planted in the cool dirt. A tree had never fallen so close to me. Was it cut down? Blood thundered in my ears. Was there some predator that survived the apocalypse? Or worse was my woodsman a psycho killer? 

In a flash, I’d collected everything I’d come for and took off down the mountain. I ran because the rains would come soon. It had nothing to do with the crack of a branch or the whisper on the wind. 

I hit the steepest slope at a sprint and slid into home, glancing over my shoulder. The wood fell scattered at our doorstep, but nothing was going to stop me now. Goosebumps covered my arms and legs as I slammed the door behind me. 

I slid down the door. Three huge drops of rain splatted against the roof, and I was glad I was home despite the manner in which the woods drove me out of her eaves. Despite the familiar crush of a heavy downpour and the scent of pine, alarm still ricocheted through my senses. The fine hairs remained at attention. I gathered myself up and locked the door. I was safe. Still, nothing quieted my heart. 

A gentle tap, tap, tappity-tap struck the front window.

Like a jolt of electricity, my senses focused on that spark of sound despite the pounding rain and crushing wind pushing the house to groan under its force. I stared, unseeing.

Rap, rap -- rap pounded at the door. 

No one ever knocked at our door because no one ever visited Terrible Mountain. Should I call out to them? They must be drenched. But I was alone for the next three days while Dad searched for food. He’d said I’d be safe, kissed me on the forehead, and walked off with a whistle. 

How was this safe? I wanted to scream.

Silently, using the rain as my cover, I crept to the darkening window thankful I hadn’t lit any of the kindling I’d brought home. 

“Hello.” It was a man’s voice. 

I froze with my foot midair. 

Should I respond? What was the likelihood a kind, handsome man knocked at my door? I moved closer, my back to the wall, and racked my brain. Nothing but a cold chill slipped down my back. Maybe before the climate apocalypse, I could have opened my door to a kindly neighbor, but these days were survival of the fittest. A stranger was more likely to rape or kill you than to say hi and help you. 

That stayed my hand and my mouth.

 “Look, I don’t want to hurt you.”

Said every murderer to their victim.

“I just want to find a safe place to rest.” 

His voice was young, strong, kindly. My secret admirer must be quite handsome, and despite my trepidation, my heart flip-flopped. 

“Why don’t you let me in? We gotta help one another.” 

 Also, what a murderer would say. 

“We owe it to one another.” 

 “I owe you nothing.” My words came out harsh.

“Okay. Sure. I heard from Franklin McVicker, who helps your dad, you guys might help me out. I’m just passing through. ” His warm voice slipped like honey through the door. 

“Who are you?”

“Why does that matter?” 

I refused to respond. He wanted in my home. I didn’t have to justify a thing.

“Zyaire. My name is Zyaire.” Something thumped and slid down the door. 

 I imagined his hand fisted in his hair. Something inside me empathized. But, I wouldn’t act ignorantly. 

“Look, I get it. A young woman in the woods alone and some strange guy comes along while dad is gone. I really get it. I could be a serial killer.” He paused. “Boy, they don’t have much to work with anymore, do they?” 

I chuckled. “I bet it’s a really tough job now.”

“Please, it’s bad out here, and I’ve been traveling for so long.”

In my mind’s eye, he was scrunched up, pressed against the door, begging to come in. Who was I to deny another survivor respite?

Just as I’d decided to let him in, the lock clicked and the door whipped open, slamming me in the temple where I’d held my ear against the door’s crack, listening. The brilliant flash of pain white-washed my vision with stars that faded to black oblivion. 

***

Sound is always the first thing to puncture the veil between this world and the unconscious. A soft drip, drip became the call back to reality. Second is the pain, a serrated knife chafed at the edges of my temple. Then, the memory and the ability to reason, which kicked my fight or flight right into gear, sending my breathing erratic. With small investigative movements, I found I wasn’t tied up and a blanket covered me. Odd.

He broke into my home.

Oh, and why were survivors always bad guys? 

He shuffled nearer as he rifled through my home, and rage poured like burning lava from my chest. This woodsman had crossed the wrong girl. 

“How strange.” He turned something over and several pieces fell to the floor. 

How many things had his hands touched? As if the insult and injury weren’t enough, he was still here. If I could transform into a flaming phoenix and set his world on fire, I would have. Unfortunately, I was me. 

The warmth of his body grew closer, touching me. Was he checking on me?

Well, I couldn’t transform, but I could adapt. If nothing else, this last year had proven that. I sat up, rising from my ashes of doubt, and wielding a bar left under the couch for instances such as these. Yes, both dad and I planned a peaceful life, but we prepared for the potential of looters trying to take what we’d built. 

In a smooth movement, the bar was in my hand and my arm was propelling it forward into curly brown hair. Warm eyes widened in surprise. Then, it was my turn to be shocked, because he easily caught the bar in mid-air. 

Taking the bar with him, he stepped back and said. “Hi, Sleeping Beauty.” 

His smile sent my thoughts scurrying like tiny animals. Not a single synapsis was left to me, and he was staring down at me with the loveliest brown eyes I’d ever caught sight of in twenty-two years. 

“You got a name?” His smile was so close.

My cheeks warmed. “Lyra.” I stood and touched my temple as it pulsed. 

“Lyra.” His red lips formed the word as if it tasted good. “I must apologize for barging in and knocking you senseless. It was not my intention.” 

Was he going to murder me? He stood so close. Or was he a miracle I’d dreamed of for the last year? If he was the last man I ever saw, there might be a hidden part of me a tiny bit okay with that. I shook my head, rejecting the capitulation. 

He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “When I followed you in the woods, I’d come up with a thousand things to say, but now I’m next to you--” He cleared his throat. “It’s amazing what you’ve got going on here. I hope to do the same thing soon.”

“Yeah.” I tried to keep my tone nonchalant. He was going down the I’m-here-to-take-your-home road. “What’s your plan?” Get him talking and then form a new, better plan to protect our hard work. Survival of the fittest and all. The year had been hard on everyone, and my woodsman had toughened up instead of giving up. They were the worst kind to fight.  

“The plan was to rescue survivors, but the mission fell apart and became a fight to survive.” He ran his fingers through his curls and stepped closer.

Sparks exploded in my chest. I notched my chin up ignoring them. “I don’t need rescuing.” 

He ran his hand along my dad’s shelves and his arm brushed mine. “I’m not on mission anymore.” He rolled up his sleeves, revealing a tattoo woven around his wrist like a cuff. 

“Look, the rains have passed. I think it’s time for you to go.” I stepped toward the front door, but he caught me easily, spinning me to face him.

“What if I don’t want to.” His brown eyes cut through me. 

I glared, hiding my visceral reaction to him. “I’m sorry. Please, just leave.” 

“Is that what you really want?”

I nodded.

“Come on. You’re injured. Let me get you a glass of water, something to eat. You’ve got something like that around here, don’t you?” He glanced toward the kitchen, showing he already knew the answer. 

My arms and legs tingled with the urge to flee. “Sure. I could use some water. I guess you know your way around.” I headed toward the couch to make the ruse realistic. As soon as he was safely in the kitchen, I’d be out of here. I couldn’t imagine leaving everything, but dad and I would be back once we found one another.

He dipped his chin, keeping his eyes locked with mine. “Happy to help.” He turned his back to me and stalked into the kitchen. “Just have a seat and I’ll be right back.” 

My woodsman was safely behind the wall of the kitchen. I slid across the floor on silent feet aware of every board that creaked and groaned. 

He peeked out of the kitchen. “So you're gonna run?” His eyes glinted with something hidden. 

I didn’t hesitate. I flung the door wide and raced into the safety of my woods.

He hollered something. When his footfalls pounced off the step and thundered behind me, I pushed harder. He was taller, stronger. While I’d been living in comfort with my dad, he’d honed every muscle in his body. 

His mammoth chest slammed into my back, and we skidded across the wet forest floor coming to a stop with me trapped under him. 

“Get off me.” I pushed up. 

He didn’t budge. His chuckle made me crazy. I twisted under his weight and immediately regretted it as his brown eyes locked with mine, and his chest burned through my thin shirt. 

“Hi there.” 

I hated how his words did funny things to my stomach. I kept my gaze iron.

“So, you think you know who I am, what I’m doing, and why I’m passing through. Go ahead, give it to me.” He rolled off me and sat on the ground, his legs outstretched. 

I nodded. “You don’t have to do this.” 

A dark laugh rippled out of him, sending shivers of cold bumps through me. “And this would be?”

“Look, take the house.” I stood to my feet. “It’s just stuff. No big deal.”

He ran his hand across the stubble on his chin. “Okay, Lyra, you have about the worst hospitality I’ve ever experienced.” 

I turned my back to him, ready to run, but he’d catch me. If I could convince him to take the stuff, then I could hide out in the caves. Eventually, my dad would come find me. I whipped around. “Just take the stuff. ”  

His gaze dropped to my feet and climbed my body. “I may be no prince charming, but I’m not a pirate out to take your home.” 

Then, he wanted something else, something worse. 

He picked up a small branch and snapped it in his fingers. 

“No. No way.” I started backing up, turned, and sprinted faster than before.  

“Lyra.” He called after me, cursed, and his footsteps pursued me. 

“Just leave me alone.” I threw over my shoulder.

“Not gonna happen.” His steps grew closer. 

Tears dropped from my cheeks as I sprinted. If I survived this, I was running every day for at least three hours. 

“Lyra, just stop.” 

“Never.” 

He cursed this time as our bodies slammed together. When I fell, the pitch dark of unconsciousness swallowed me in an instant. 

*** 

A cold wetness woke me. I couldn’t remember anything, and my eyes refused to open. 

“I’ll go.” Defeat was heavy in a man’s voice. “But let’s get one thing straight before I do. I’m not a bad guy. I’m just. . . tired of being alone.” 

Something akin to sadness drifted through me. Memories flooded back. My eyes drifted open, and I recognized my dad’s shelf. “You brought me all the way back home.” 

He blushed. “Yeah.” His hand rubbed the back of his neck. “I couldn’t leave you passed out in the woods at night.” 

“So, you’re not here to. . .” I glanced around the room to find he’d been sitting on the floor next to me.  This was my woodsman. “How long was I out?”

“It’s hard to say, but I didn’t want to leave until you woke. You took a nasty bang to the head on that last tumble.” He smothered a bashful smirk.“It’s so good to talk to someone. I just didn’t want to leave.” 

I reached up and touched a large lump on my forehead. “Yeah, it is, but it doesn’t mean you can stay here.” The blanket he’d put me under shifted and a dawning realization entered my foggy brain. “You’re not going to hurt me?” I watched his face carefully for any sign of a lie. 

“No.” He unfolded and walked toward the front door. 

A pang slammed into my chest. What if he walked out and was the last person I ever saw other than my dad? What if he was a good man, a man who rescued people, and I’d misread every clue? 

He opened the door. “Thanks for keeping me company, albeit reluctantly.” 

As his foot passed the threshold, I squeaked. “Wait.”

He turned and studied me. 

I stood, but the world tilted and tinged black at the edges. 

He rushed toward me and caught me before I suffered another blow.

“Thank you,” I whispered. 

He returned me to my feet and went back to the door. “Your father shouldn’t leave you here alone. This world is dangerous. Your instincts are spot on, just not about me.” He stared into the night. 

“How long have you been traveling?”

“A year.” Resignation rode his words. 

“How long will you keep going?” Something stirred inside of me.

“As long as I have to.” He took a step outside and gazed at the emerging stars. 

“I can’t let you stay inside. I hardly know you, but I’m not without some hospitality.”

He turned, grinning. “I’ve slept under the stars for most of this year.” 

Truthfully, I was looking forward to sharing breakfast with someone other than my dad. “I’ll put some stuff together for you. Tomorrow, we’ll have breakfast together, and you can tell me your whole story.”

“Sounds like a date.” His words were low and inviting. 

Heat rushed up my neck and across my cheeks. “You’ll be okay?”

“I promise.” Hope shone in his eyes as he smiled. “Thank you.” 

His words surprised me. In a world that went all to hell, kindness still mattered most.