Ashen Winter (Ashfall)

here?”
    “That you, Doug?”
    “Yeah, Deke, it’s me. What’re you doing out here?”
    “Needed to piss something fierce. Ain’t any camp rule against an old man going to the latrine, is there? Anyway, this kid scared it right out of me.”
    I felt dampness against my hip where I was lying on him and caught a whiff of urine. Great. I scrambled up.
    Dad reached down to help him up. “Sorry, Deke,” Dad said gruffly. “Thought you were trying to abduct this girl.”
    “Well. Sorry I ran her over. Too blasted dark to see anything at night.”
    “That’s the truth. Look, Deke, don’t tell anyone we’re out here.”
    “You don’t think it’s one of us taking them girls, do you?”
    “Don’t know. Could be. There were psychos in the world before the volcano. Still are, I figure.”
    Deke’s hands were pressed over his groin. “Okay. I’ll keep it quiet.”
    “Pack it in for the night,” Dad said to all of us. “It’s almost dawn, anyway.”
    Alyssa stepped toward me, holding her side.
    “You okay?” I asked.
    “Yeah,” she said. “Just sore from falling. Walk with me? At least as far as your tent?”
    “Sure,” I said.
    Alyssa grabbed my arm for support, and we trudged away in silence. I was too tired to start a conversation, and maybe Alyssa was, too. It felt like a companionable silence with her leaning against my arm, both of us recovering from a long and tense night.
    By the time we got to Dad’s tent, the sky was starting to lighten. Alyssa turned to face me. I saw Dad following us. During the day, Dad used the tent; Mom and another woman slept there at night while Dad patrolled. I cracked open the flap and glanced in. It was empty—Dad told me that Mom often left before dawn to fulfill her duties as The Principal.
    “I think I’ll lie down,” I said.
    “Me, too,” Dad said. “I’m beat.”
    “Um, can I talk to Alex? Alone?” Alyssa gestured at the tent.
    Dad was quiet for a moment as he looked at her. “Yeah. I’ll find somewhere else to nap.”
    “Thanks.” Alyssa pulled the tent flap aside and crawled in.
    It was more than a little annoying. Didn’t I get any say over who got to share my tent? I turned to follow Alyssa.
    Dad caught my arm. “Alex. You did good.”
    “Thanks.” I started to turn away again, but he held on.
    “What you do is your business, but, um . . . we lost one woman in childbirth already.”
    I had to suppress a groan. Uncle Paul had lectured me literally ad nauseum on this subject last year. “We’re just going to talk. Besides, Darla and I—”
    “I know—it’s okay.” Dad pulled me into a brief hug. “I’ll come get you before they quit serving breakfast. You can talk for an hour and a half, maybe two.”
    I rolled my eyes at him and crawled into the tent.
    Alyssa was sitting on a makeshift pile of rags and blankets. Her jacket was off. As I entered, she was pulling her sweater off. She stretched sinuously, thrusting her chest out. I couldn’t help but stare.
    When her head popped free of the sweater, Alyssa caught me staring and smiled. I moved my focus back to her face, but it nearly took more willpower than I had to succeed.
    “What did you want to talk about?” I asked.
    “When that guy, Deke, ran into me, you were the first one there.” Under the sweater Alyssa had on a heavy, long-sleeved flannel shirt. Not in the least bit sexy—until she started slowly unbuttoning it.
    “I was trying to stay alert—that’s . . . that’s really distracting.”
    As Alyssa unbuttoned the flannel shirt, its plackets fell open, revealing a form-fitting, lacy scarlet shirt beneath. “What? This?” She took a deep breath.
    “Um, yeah.” I reached one hand out to her collar and held her overshirt closed.
    She placed a hand over mine. “That guy didn’t stand a chance. He was a foot taller and probably fifty pounds heavier, and you took him down with one move.”
    I shrugged. I could pull my hand away from hers, but then her overshirt would fall open again. A growing part of me wanted to let go of her shirt and not pull away, let it fall open, and see what would happen next.
    “You could have killed him.”
    “I wouldn’t—”
    She lifted my pointer finger and took it between her lips, biting gently. The supple warmth of her lips drove whatever I’d been about to say from my mind. She cupped her other hand behind my neck, pulling me closer. I was clay, moldable into whatever shape Alyssa wanted. She released my finger from