The Outcast's Journey: A post-apocalyptic survival thriller (A World Torn Down Book 3) by Rebecca Fernfield

Author:Rebecca Fernfield [Fernfield, Rebecca]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Publisher: Redbegga
Published: 2017-11-15T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter 15

Dan leans the spade against the wall and stamps his boots on the concrete step, knocking off the snow before he steps back into the house. His breath billows white as he steps up into the kitchen and he rubs his hands to rid them of the chill. He can feel the tingle of pain in their tips and holds them to his mouth, blowing warm air as they begin to throb. The house is silent.

“Monica” he calls, stepping through to the hallway.

“Here,” she responds, her voice low, deadened with emotion.

“I’ve finished,” he says and watches as the pain flits across her eyes and she turns away. He grasps for words, something to placate her, but everything he thinks of seems trite. What can you say to a woman who’s lost her child? Sorry for your loss? Time will heal your pain? Ugh! He decides to remain silent and instead follows her to the bottom of the stairs. She reaches down and grasps a large pair of corduroy slippers. He clenches his jaw and takes a deep breath to ease the tension as he watches her fingers slip past the tiny pair sitting next to them.

“Here,” she says passing the large slippers to him. “Put them on. Your boots are covered in snow and your feet will be cold without them.”

“Sorry!” he says looking down at the still frozen snow trailed across the wooden flooring.

She nods and turns then walks through to the living room. Warm air filters through the cold and wafts across his face, a small pleasure in this godforsaken world. Changing his boots for the slippers – dead man’s shoes! – he follows her, closes the door and sits close to the log burner. She sits quiet, staring into the orange flames behind the glass.

“Monica,” he says gently looking across to her as she sits crumpled in the over-large cushions of the sofa. She doesn’t move or acknowledge him, but instead stares into the fire. He rises, walks across the room and sits next to her. He recognises her pain and the darkness inside. Her lips are blushed rose against the pale, freckled skin. She turns to him as he slips his arm over her shoulder, her green eyes lock on his then she leans and rests her head on his chest. He pulls her to him, tightening his arm around her, and they sit in silence, taking comfort from each other, as the sun lowers and the orange of the fire casts its warm glow in the darkening room.

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