Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 119764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
How long has it been since I was close to a man who was interested in me?
Why does this make me feel so vulnerable and yet protected? Safe?
There’s another crash from inside, and someone swears.
I freeze, because…that doesn’t sound like the man that was here yesterday. It sounds like…a woman.
“Now you’ve done it, Aggie,” says a raspy voice. “You’re making enough noise to raise the dead. Why not just get a trumpet and blow it and let everyone know we’re here?”
“Oh, you hush up, Dottie.” A second voice, more wobbly and faint, joins in. “I can’t help it if there’s junk all over the damned floor.”
“It’s an apocalypse. Of course there’s going to be junk on the floor.” The sound of another pile of books crashing to the ground makes me wince. There’s a pause, and then the first voice says, “Okay, that one’s on me.”
“Quit bitching and help me find some crosswords.”
A book hits the ground somewhere outside. “You like sudoku?”
“Do I look like I enjoy math? Does anyone enjoy math?”
I don’t know whether to laugh or be alarmed at the argument happening a short distance away.
We’re being robbed by…old ladies?
CHAPTER 23
DAKOTA
If they didn’t have guns, I’d go out and introduce myself.
As it is, I’m trapped in a closet with a big, naked golden man who’s growling. Not an ideal situation. My daughter is hiding in the old bathroom, which adds to my tension. I want to protect her, but I can’t if I get shot. I don’t know how trigger happy these women might be. I don’t know what to do.
Murr growls again, and in the direction of the bathrooms, something crashes. My heart skips a beat.
“Who’s there?” one of the ladies calls out.
My instincts to protect my daughter go into overdrive and I race out the door, shutting it behind me quickly and holding the doorknob so Murr can’t get out after me. “I am,” I call out. “I live here. I’m not armed!”
The door rattles behind me. I keep holding the doorknob.
A shotgun barrel comes into view, and an older woman with a terrible wig on her head appears a moment later, holding the other end of the gun. Her face is lined and she’s maybe five feet tall, a hundred pounds soaking wet. Huge glasses dominate her face and she glares at me, taking another step forward with the gun. “Who are you?”
“I live here,” I say again. “My name is Dakota.”
“Why are you hiding back here?” she asks suspiciously.
“Because you have guns?” Now if Rabbit could just stay put, that would be perfect.
The door behind me rattles again. The woman’s eyes narrow behind the magnified lenses and she scowls at me. “What’s in there?”
I think for a moment, trying to come up with a plausible answer, and then go with the truth. “Big naked man?”
Her mouth quirks and her gun dips a little. “He good looking?”
“Aggie!” barks the other voice. “That ain’t important right now!”
“It could be!” the woman, Aggie, calls back over her shoulder. “Been a while since I’ve looked at a pretty man.”
“We’re not here for men. We’re here for crosswords.” There’s a shuffling of feet and then a second woman comes around the corner, into sight. She’s carrying the biggest assault rifle I’ve ever seen in my life, the strap slung over her shoulder. She’s about the same height as the first woman, her hair a snow-white cap of short, tight curls, and her dark skin is unlined despite her age. She scowls in my direction. “You should have said something when we came in instead of acting all suspicious.”
“Again, you have guns,” I remind them, unable to take my eyes off that enormous assault rifle. “Really big ones.”
The women look unfazed. “Course we do. It’s the After. Guns are how you stay safe.” The second woman pats her rifle and then gives me another suspicious look. “Why aren’t you and your man in a fort?”
I think for a moment as the door rattles behind me. Murr growls louder. “Dakotah!”
The guns lift. Shit. I put my free hand up. “He’s not really my man.”
“But you said he’s got his pecker out,” the one in the bad wig—Aggie—reminds me.
The second woman takes a step toward me, her expression uneasy. “You in danger? Do you need rescuing?”
Aggie’s eyes light up behind her glasses. She lifts her gun. “Do you need us to shoot him?”
“Let’s not shoot anyone!” I say nervously. They seem a little strange, but the offer to rescue me makes me trust them a bit more. “Maybe we start over. Hi, I’m Dakota, and I live here. My teenage daughter is currently hiding because, again, you guys have guns. And the guy in the closet is a…friend that lives across the parking lot. He’s naked because…”
Aggie leans in to hear the answer, eyes wide.