Ashen Winter (Ashfall)

reason I’m alive.”
    Alyssa nodded. “The only reason I’m alive is Ben. When I told Danny that I’d starve myself to death if he flensed Ben, I meant it. There’s nothing in this shitpool life worth living for except him.” She started to strip off my jacket, forcing me to sit up. I tried to protest, but she shushed me and kept going, taking off my clothing until I was bare-chested by the fire. I pushed a couple more sticks of wood into the fire. My back was freezing.
    “Wow,” Alyssa said, looking at my right arm. It was a swollen mass of purple-blue bruises. She gently lifted my arm. Even my armpit was bruised. Alyssa ran her fingers lightly over the horseshoe-shaped scar at the base of my ribcage. “What’s that from?”
    “A bandit—flenser, I guess, got me with a hatchet last year.”
    “And you survived.”
    “I killed him,” I said flatly.
    “And those?” She touched one of the round scabs on my belly.
    “Shotgun pellets.”
    Her fingers wandered to my chest, tracing my pecs, which had gotten considerably larger over the months of nonstop farm work and physically challenging lifestyle, to put it mildly. “You’re strong,” she said.
    I pulled away from her fingers and reached out to stir the corn porridge. “It’s ready.”
    “I’m not sure what to do about your arm. It doesn’t seem like anything’s broken.”
    I shrugged my left shoulder.
    “Maybe I should strap it to your side? Or make a sling? It might heal faster if you can’t move it.”
    “No,” I said. “I can move it a little. If anything happens, I might need it. Just help me put my clothes back on.”
    She didn’t respond right away. She was staring at me—at the bruises on my arm, maybe, or maybe at my chest. Her eyes weren’t on my face, that was for sure. I wasn’t used to having a girl look at me that way—well, Darla had, sometimes.
    I picked up my T-shirt and held it out toward her.
    “If you go back to Anamosa, you’re going to die. There’s more than a hundred Peckerwoods there,” she said as she helped me struggle into my T-shirt.
    “Darla needs me.”
    “She’ll be—well, they won’t kill her. She’s young and pretty. Valuable.”
    “They can’t have her. I’m going to go get her. I’d leave now if I could.”
    Alyssa’s eyes shone in the firelight.
    “Hey. I’ll just get close. Then you and Ben can have the truck—drive yourselves to Worthington. You’ll be safe there.” I sent up a silent prayer that Worthington hadn’t been overrun, that Rita Mae and even Mayor Kenda were still okay.
    “You’re a tough guy, aren’t you?” Alyssa said.
    “Not really,” I replied. “You’re pretty tough. You survived being captured by the Peckerwoods. Kept your brother alive.”
    Alyssa started softly crying. I looked at Ben—he was immersed in systematically chopping and sorting wood, oblivious to his sister. I reached out and wrapped an arm around her, drawing her into an awkward, one-armed hug. “Hey, it’s okay. You’ll be all right now,” I told her.
    She clung to me. Her tears ran down my shoulder, and her arm hurt me where it pressed against my bruises. She smelled musky, salty—exciting, somehow. Her scent reminded me of Darla. Suddenly I was crying, too.
    We held onto each other for a minute. Then I smelled something burning. I broke our hug and snatched the pot off the fire. Alyssa helped me get dressed while our lunch cooled.
    We ate all the corn mush, even the burnt bits. I was utterly exhausted. I asked Alyssa to keep watch, tucked a pair of pants under my head, and fell asleep curled in front of the fire.

Chapter 56
    When I awoke, Alyssa was up, cooking corn porridge for breakfast while Ben tended the fire. “Why didn’t you wake me up to take a turn on watch?” I asked.
    “There was no need,” she said.
    “You stayed up all night? You want to sleep now?”
    “No. I couldn’t stay up.”
    “Somebody should have kept watch.”
    “Nothing happened,” she replied.
    I grunted, mildly disgusted but unwilling to continue arguing.
    After breakfast, I struggled to my feet. “I’m going to check the barn.”
    “You can barely move,” Alyssa protested.
    “There might be something useful out there. Maybe a jack.” I took a faltering step toward the door.
    Alyssa got up and tucked herself under my left shoulder. “I’ll help.”
    “Shouldn’t you stay with Ben?”
    “He’s fine.”
    We stumbled outside with my arm slung over her shoulders for support. A