ROAD: Raggy, Own, Alternate, Destination

We were only a day away from out goal. We had eighteen miles left. Both Abby and I felt relieved that we would have soon made it. Last night the mutated lion hadn't shown itself.

I recalled the first time I'd met her, how I'd thought we had no mutual interests and no chemistry. I had to admit that other than math it was still so. I wasnt a fucking creep but I was a man in his mid-thirties and I definitely wasnt ready to give up fucking. I'd have to pick someone else up on the way.

Of course I couldnt tell Abby about my plans, she wouldnt understand, but she was smart enough to realize that that would be the reason I'd pick up some more chicks. I wanted somebody like Joline. Someone who I could trust. I wasnt the man to sleep with a range of women. I just wanted one fucking person that I could fuck. Isn't too much to ask for, right?

My first boss in the accounting business had once said: Mr. Hart, do you really think you're going to get anywhere with honesty? I hadn't been sure what to reply. If someone had asked me that now I would have known my answer. Funny how we sometimes first know the answer to a question a few years after. 

I'd looked at the map, we'd pass through one of the towns that I'd been in a few times. It was about five miles south of the farm. I hoped we'd still find food there. We were out far enough that most people wouldn't have gone along this way, but it was still possible that one or two hundred had, and one hundred hungry souls can easily empty a small supermarket.

I also hadn't told Joline one of the main problems yet. I wasn't sure if the farm would be vacant. My uncle hadn't had a wife, nor had he had kids, but he'd had a few other helpers work alongside me during the war. I doubted they would drive me away and they'd obviously want to keep Abby. If they were there, I could definetely use some hands to work the farm. If they weren't, we'd have it too ourselves and could run it the way we wanted. 

"You aren't married, are you?" Abby asked suddenly asked me, ripping me out of my thoughts. 

"No. I'm not. I never was. How about you?"

"Nope. Me neither. I'm also twenty-six, not in my early forties." Her words made me laugh. I guessed I looked a lot older than I was. The more I thought about it the more it made sense; I must have had quite a few worry lines that creased my brow and although I was fit, the clothes I wore gave nothing away. I always shaved my beard every few days, but I hadn't since I'd met the girls at the club so a light stubble covered my chin and my lower cheeks. 

"I'm not forty, Abby." I said. Her eyes got all big and round. 

"Oh gosh. I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to-." She blushed in embarassement. 

"I'm thirty-five years old. I'll turn thirty-six in the summer."

"Oh my God this is so embarrasing. Well, I didn't mean it as a...you don't look old...I just- I'm sorry." She kept making it worse for herself but better for me. I just laughed and shook my head at her. 

"It's nothing to worry about Abby. War took it's toll on me, and the months after even more so. I also haven't properly taken a bath or shower in several months. I probably lool closer to fifty." I was exaggerating a bit but I wanted to show her that it really was fine. She was still a bit pink around the ears but she allowed herself to smile. 

"You must have had a girlfriend." She said. I looked at her in surprise. 

"Why do you say that?"

"Because you didn't grope the girls. If guys haven't done it in a long time, they usually lose their minds and get all rough even though they don't mean too. You'd obviously had sex in the past months."

"Yeah I did. There was a woman in my building..." I felt a pang of sadness when I thought of Joline. Who'd eat beans with her now? And why had I never invited her to stay the night? The one thing that put me at peace just a little bit was the fact that I'd woken her up that one time to take a walk. That might have been the only time I'd shown her what she meant to me. But at least it wasn't nothing. "What about you?"

"I had a boyfriend in my early twenties but he died during the war. I didn't really date anyone after but obviously, given the place I worked, I did have intercourse."

"I'm sorry about your boyfriend." I said. She just smiled and said it was alright. But I could tell she still missed him. 

We reached the town. That meant five more miles until the farm. Five more miles until we'd made it! The store was empty. Completely. The shelves looked like skeletons, illuminated by the afternoon sun. We searched the back for any other kind of supplies and found nothing valuable; a bucket, a mop and two old scarves. All stuff we'd have at the farm. Aside from a movie-theater and a smallish church there wasn't much. 

The houses already looked broken into, but we tramped through them anyway and got a few things that might prove useful. I found a pen that still had a shit-ton of ink. Abby found a longish kitchen knife that nobody had stolen yet (it had been hiding behind a cake pan). The best thing we found was alive.

It was a cat. It was skinny, almost starved but it's eyes lit up when it saw us and it ran to greet us, purring. I didn't get how the fuck you could ever leave a pet behind but these people had left poor Spencer behind. Spencer was a white cat, but he was short-haired which confused both Abby and I. He was siamese but also wasn't. We pet him for at least ten minutes. 

"Can a cat walk five miles in one day?" I asked. She looked at me in surprise. I knew she wanted to keep him, and so did I. But I had guessed she wouldn't think I'd want too. 

"We're gonna take him?" She said, forcing herself to keep her voice level.

"Yes. Go try to find a crate." 

We did find his crate, it was in the cellar. And after having poured some old cat food in his tray which he gobbled up, we coaxed him into the crate, loaded him on top of my backpack and marched onwards. 

The sun was already low in the sky when we finally saw the pinprick of a house in the distance. Our farm.