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BEN
The fire continues to blaze. Ben sits with his back against a Douglas fir, staring into the flames.
Everyone is curled up on their sides, asleep. The rain has finally stopped. His clothes have mostly dried out.
He likes watching Kate sleep. She looks good when she isn’t worried all the time. She lies on the ground next to Ash, one hand entwined in the younger woman’s.
It’s well past time for Ben to pass his watch shift to Reed. He doesn’t bother. It’s not like he can sleep anyway, and Reed snores blissfully on the ground. At least someone out here should benefit from a good night sleep. And the quiet time has given him a chance to clean the weapons still in their possession.
Something moves. Ben shifts, then relaxes as Caleb gets to his feet. The young man moves gingerly, not wanting to disturb Ash. He walks to the edge of the firelight and turns his back to take a piss.
“I’ve been holding that for hours,” Caleb says to no one in particular, letting out a long sigh of relief.
“It’s the last good piss you’re going to have for a while,” Ben replies. “We’re all out of potable water.”
Caleb pulls his shorts back into place and turns. “I should probably care about that, but I don’t. I’ll drink out of the creeks and streams.” The younger man stretches his arms, eyeing Ben from across the fire.
When Ben looks at Caleb, he realizes he doesn’t feel hatred and loathing anymore. For the first time, he sees Caleb for what he really is: a young man no more than twenty-two or twenty-three years old. A young man with a good heart who hadn’t chosen his friends as wisely as he should.
Fuck. When do young men ever do anything wise? Ben had more than his share of loser friends throughout his life. More than his fair share of bad decisions, too. And not just when he was a young man.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Caleb asks.
“Like what?”
“Like you don’t think I’m the first-born of Satan.”
The darkness moves behind Caleb.
Ben blinks, realizing how exhausted he is. How long has he been awake? Twenty-four hours, at least, if not longer. Maybe he’s starting to hallucinate like Kate.
The darkness continues to move. A rancid smell wafts through camp.
“What’s the smell?” Caleb asks, wrinkling his nose.
The smell hits Ben full in the face. It’s like walking past a dumpster in a dark alley. No way in hell a hallucination can smell like death.
“God, it smells like a garbage dump,” Caleb says. “Where’s it coming from?” He turns, peering in the direction of the stench.
Ben shifts into a crouch, drawing his gun. In his fatigued state, he’d left his knife on the other side of the fire where he’d used it to strip wet bark from logs.
Since they arrived at the Lost Coast, they’ve been without the constant stink of the undead hanging in the air. Apparently, their reprieve is over. A zombie—or zombies—has found them.
The darkness behind Caleb solidifies.
Except it’s not a zombie.
Outlined in the firelight is a creature that easily weighs six hundred pounds. It rears up, rising seven feet into the air. A roar rips free from its mouth, vibrating Ben down to his core.
The world narrows to a split second. All Ben’s time at College Creek blurs by in his mind’s eye. He sees a new version of Caleb in the replay.
Caleb was always the voice of reason in Johnson’s ear. Anytime the other boy let his brutal streak show, Caleb was there, attempting to talk him down. Most of the time it worked.
Then Johnson started putting distance between himself and Caleb. He’d go out scavenging with Ryan and some of the crueler boys. He always had an excuse and a buddy-buddy fist bump for Caleb when he returned, but the truth was that he shied away from the moral compass of his friend.
Caleb had been there on the day of the College Creek massacre. He’d been the one screaming at Johnson.
Stop! Don’t do this! Johnson, stop!
Ben finally realizes the truth.
Caleb is one more person Ben has failed. He’s another College Creek casualty. He failed Caleb as surely as he failed all the kids who are dead and gone.
Caleb was right. Ben had done nothing. He’d had plenty of chances to kill Johnson. He’d failed.
He’d failed them all.
Most of them are gone. He’d never have a chance to make up his failure.
But Caleb is still here. Ben still has a chance at redemption.
He isn’t going to fail Caleb a second time.
With a shout, he flings himself toward the younger man. He crashes into him, sending Caleb flying into the brush.
The bear drops to all fours, another roar ripping through the camp.
Ben’s world narrows to a singular focus.
The bear. The smell. The enormous paws that could shred him open with one swipe. The teeth that could tear off his arms.
Ben hits the ground, skidding across dirt and pine needles on his back. Pure instinct takes over.
The gun in his hand comes up.
The bear charges.
Ben fires, emptying his magazine. His shout is lost in the roar of challenge that issues from the great animal.
The bear crashes to the ground, body skidding into the firelight. Its face is a mash of red from the bullets. Blood pours out of the ruined muzzle, staining the ground.
Ben’s breath rasps in and out of his lungs. Adrenaline beats in his ears. His legs tremble as he gets to his feet.
Caleb crouches in the brush just outside of their shelter, slack-jawed in shock and horror.
Moving on shaky legs, Ben crosses the clearing. He holds out a hand to the other man.
“I’m sorry.” His voice is hoarse. There is so much more to say, but it’s the best he can do. The intensity of the adrenaline makes his arm tremble.
Caleb rises and lets out a long breath, eyes still wide. He grasps Ben’s hand. A beat passes. Then he yanks Ben into a hug.
It’s not an embrace by any means. More of a shoulder bump and some slapping on the back. Ben returns the back slaps with awkwardness.
The anger he’s carried around since the day of the College Creek massacre dissipates, puffing away like smoke in a breeze. Caleb grins at him, face still crazed with fear from his near-death encounter with the black bear. Ben returns the grin, feeling feral.
“Ben?” Someone grabs him by the shoulder and whips him around.
The entire camp is awake, everyone on their feet as they gawk at the dead black bear.
Kate stands in front of him, eyes wild as she scans his body. “Are you okay? Did the bear get you anywhere?”
Adrenaline still pounds through him. Bloods roars in his ears. He can’t form words.
“Ben?”
He grabs her by the arms, squashing her against him. She squawks in surprise.
Ben silences her with a fierce kiss on the lips. He drinks in the taste of her, savoring the glory of being alive. Of not hating Caleb.
God dammit, he never hated Caleb. He hated himself.
The roaring in his ears subsides. He becomes aware of applause.
The kids are clapping, hooting, and catcalling.
“About time!” someone shouts. It might be Reed.
“Way to grow a pair,” someone else says. That might be Caleb, the little shit.
Ben disengages, putting an arm’s length between himself and Kate as a semblance of sanity returns to him. She made it clear she didn’t want him to kiss her.
He decides he doesn’t give a shit. “Deal with it,” he says to her.
She gapes at him. Someone hoots with laughter.
He stares down at her, still half feral from the encounter with the bear. His chest heaves. It takes all his will power not to drag her back into his arms and kiss her again.
Is she angry? He can’t tell.
This thought is followed by the formation of words, which flow out of his mouth.
“I’m not sorry,” he tells her. “Deal with it.”
She blinks, her face still painted with shock and surprise. Then she grabs him by the front of the shirt, knotting her fist in the fabric. “You deal with it,” she snaps, dragging him forward. She rises up onto her toes to kiss him.
This kiss is longer, deeper. It would be perfect, if not for the fucking peanut gallery ringing the two of them.
“You owe me a night shift,” Ash says. Her voice is a croak, but the glee is unmistakable. “I told you he’d make a move before we got to Fort Ross.”
“Dammit, old man,” Caleb says, “you screwed me. You weren’t supposed to grow a pair until we got back home.”
“I get Eric’s pair of Nikes,” Reed crows.
“And I get Eric’s alien socks,” Susan adds.
“Fuck both of you,” Eric replies. His voice is jovial, not an ounce of rancor there despite his words. “Joke’s on you. The Nikes have mold on the inside and the alien socks have a hole in the toe.”
“Don’t be a sore loser,” Susan says. “It doesn’t suit you.”
“Hell, Ben had to swim in holey underwear, survive pirates and a shipwreck, escape the impassible zone, and kill a bear to work up the nerve to make a move,” Eric replies. “Up until ten seconds ago, I thought I had this in the bag.”
Ben wants to hold Kate in his arms and kiss her for the next twenty years, but he can’t take it anymore.
“Do you little shits have to talk all the time?” he demands. “Sixty seconds of silence. Is that so much to ask for?”
Everyone bursts out laughing. He feels his face grow hot. He sneaks a look at Kate. Her brow is furrowed in consternation, but she hasn’t retreated. She leans into him, her shoulder pressed into his bicep.
He decides to go big. Why not? He just killed a goddamn black bear.
He puts both arms around her shoulders, pulling her close against his chest. Kate doesn’t resist or protest. She turns a shy smile up at him before resting her head against him.
Ben decides this might be the best night of his life.
“Hey, guys.” Reed is the first to recover from the fit of laughter. “I think we have the food problem sorted out.” He gestures to the dead bear.
“Dude.” Caleb takes in the massive proportions of the dead animal. “That thing must weight six hundred pounds. Do you know how to butcher an animal?”
“I do.”
Everyone turns to Eric in surprise. He shrugs.
“My dad used to take me deer hunting as a kid. A bear can’t be all that different.”
Four hundred and fifty pounds different, but Ben doesn’t bother to point this out. Even if it’s hard to imagine the stoner-electrician knowing how to butcher a bear.
Hell, it was impossible to imagine Kate resting her head on his chest, but here she is. Anything is possible.
Ben makes a silent promise to himself: this will not be the first and only time he holds Kate. By some miracle, he’s managed to get past both their bullshit, if only by a hair. Now that the door’s been cracked open, he doesn’t intend to stop until she’s all his.
He squeezes her one last time before releasing her. Retrieving his knife from the fireside, he turns to Eric. “Let’s get to work, kid.”
“I’ll get sticks,” Reed volunteers. “This will be like a real camping trip, only with bear instead of marshmallows.”
“I knew I should have packed salt.” Ash forces herself into a sitting position. “Only savages eat wild bear without salt.”
Ben, standing over the carcass with Eric, looks up to find Kate watching him. The banter of the kids fades to a distant hum as their eyes meet. When she smiles at him, his whole body sings.