World Without (The Cascadia Series Book 3) by Sarah Lyons Fleming

Author:Sarah Lyons Fleming [Fleming, Sarah Lyons]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-08-18T16:00:00+00:00

Sure enough, it is motherfucking stew. And we eat every bite.

25

ROSE

We’ve upped our MRE rations to five per week, per person. Each meal has approximately 1,200 calories. Averaged over a week, it works out to fewer than 900 calories a day. That’s too low for a woman of my average height, but it’s dangerously low for someone Jesse’s age and size, who needs more than that just to keep his heart pumping and lungs inflating.

We have acorn flour and hazelnuts to supplement the MREs. Our dried fruit and jams are gone. The honey is following close behind, even with the extra frames we’ve stolen from the bees. Now that it’s colder, substantial quantities of bugs are impossible to find. After this week’s MRE allotment, we have eight left per person, as well as a few cans of freeze-dried food saved for a last hurrah before we die.

Because Jesse and Tom look the worst, I’ve supplemented their rations with mine by sneaking food into their weekly MRE supplies: a packet of peanut butter, a pack of cookies or crackers, a pouch of nuts and raisins. Yesterday, I slipped them both an entrée, hoping they won’t realize they’ve had six this week instead of five.

This probably puts my daily caloric intake somewhere in the lower hundreds. I don’t do the math. I don’t want to know. I stepped on Barry’s scale a few days ago, then quickly stepped off again, my heart thumping with dread. The last time I was this weight, I was nine years old and five inches shorter.

“See?” Holly asks, turning her book to show me a photo of a mushroom. “I think I saw some of these where we found the chanterelles.”

She’s small, and the effects took longer to show, but her cheekbones are sharper. Her skin is paler. Her eyes are shadowed by fatigue. I’ll devise a reason to visit the guesthouse and sneak my last bag of nuts into her food. I’ll find something for Clara and Nora, too. But then there’s Pop and Mitch and Craig. The other Big Kids. The Littles.

I want to feed them all. That I can’t—that I must choose whom to keep alive—fills me with stomach-churning guilt. Only Willa has enough food, thanks to the big bag of kibble, but we’ve already added some to the kids’ meals. Watching Willa waste away is a new level of awful I don’t want to contemplate. Knowing the day may come when someone suggests we eat her is horrifying, partly because if we’ve hit that point, they’ll probably be right.

“Mom?” Holly waves a hand in front of my face, then motions to Barry on one of the couches. “Barry's talking to you.”

I turn too quickly, gripping the arms of my chair when my head spins. “Sorry. I was woolgathering.”

“We’re planning to check roads again. Thought there might be some oak trees.”

I lean back and shut my eyes. I woke up two hours ago, but I’m already exhausted. I force them open. “When are we leaving?”

“An hour?” Barry asks.

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