Half Naked Peaches
As ice and snow bit at his bare skin, Michael found himself wondering if dying by the Drone's hand would have been a preferable alternative to the dunk in the river. The only things he'd managed to salvage in terms of clothing, was his jacket and blanket. Though the heavy leather coat was more than adequate for Canada's coldest winters it stopped just short of his knees, and as he plowed through the two and a half feet of snow that littered the forest floor, he could feel the ice scraping against the exposed flesh.
A foot or two behind, he could hear Catherine cursing under her breath. Though she was wrapped in his blanket, which covered her considerably better than his coat did him, she must have been just as cold. More than once he'd considered demanding that she return the blanket. Undoubtedly she would have refused, and most likely broken his nose so that the message stuck, but entertaining the fantasy of having the blanket and the dubious warmth it would have provided, was a better alternative than imagining his skin peeling away from frost bite.
His most adept method for keeping his mind occupied was to ponder what his traveling companion had told him about her time spent in the Capital Wasteland. Subconsciously he stuffed one nearly frozen hand into his coat pocket. His numb fingers met a small bundle of leather cord and beads, and set his mind to wonder just what a freelance mercenary would do for money. Undoubtedly, she'd killed people. Had she been discriminate? Was it only in self-defense, or when no other option remained? Or was she as cold blooded as Le Devin?
When he glanced over his shoulder, Michael felt a pang in his chest at the thought of what she might have done. He knew there was no reason to feel betrayed by someone he'd met only the night before. He'd known she was a killer from the moment she'd taken his shotgun away. The fact that they'd survived numerous near death experiences, each of them saving the other's life whenever possible, did not mean that there was anything between them.
Even though she'd shared her past, did not mean he should feel anything for her that he wouldn't for any other traveler he crossed. Or at least, that's what his rational mind argued whenever his stomach would turn over or a shot of adrenaline coursed through his system when she was near.
"Oh, Dieu merci," Michael said to himself as his eyes returned to the forest in front of him. In an instant his mind was focused, and he began to stomp through the snow at a brisker pace. Ahead, just visible against the trees, a rectangular shape jutted from the snow. To anyone not looking for it, it would look like a hill or a knoll. However, Michael had been keeping his eyes peeled for sharp edges and manmade materials.
From a distance it resembled a Pre-War house, though it was much longer than it was wide. However as they neared it, the glass that composed every inch of the structure stood out more and more. The interlocking grid of steel that laced between the square panes of glass stood out from the iced over walls.
"What is this?" Catherine asked, running one hand over the smooth surface. The ice that covered the glass had left it as opaque as any of the trees looming overhead.
"It's a greenhouse," the Michael responded, running his hands over the side, feeling for an irregularity in the flat surface. When his fingers met a slight indentation, he quickly grabbed it and was rewarded with a soft crack. The door to the greenhouse slid open, pushing aside the ice. A blast of warm air, such a contrast to the cold that it felt hot, rushed over the two frostbitten travelers.
Though he'd heard rumors of this settlement, Michael had always assumed they were an exaggeration. However, true to the stories, within the glass structure was a small grove of peach trees. Grinning like a schoolboy, the doctor went to the nearest tree and plucked a small, yellow orb from its branches.
"Peaches," he said taking an oversized bite. In seconds, juice dripping onto the grass at his feet, he'd consumed half the fruit. He hadn't noticed how hungry he'd been until the first spot of sweet and tangy peach touched his tongue. Aware that Catherine had probably eaten about as much as he had, which is to say: nothing at all, Michael tossed another peach to her. "Try one."
"Won't someone notice?" she asked, staring at the fruit suspiciously. By then, he'd finished his first and was in the process of trying to eat the entire thing in one monstrous gulp. "This can't be easy to maintain, or keep so warm."
For a moment, Michael stopped stuffing his face with fresh fruit to hopefully lessen her concern. However, at that moment she took her first bite, her eyes turning wide. Despite himself, the mental promises he'd made to himself earlier, the doctor grinned at his companion.
"Oh my God that's good," Catherine through a mouthful of the fruit. She returned Michael's grin for a moment. Then, her eyes trained onto something behind the doctor. Before he had a chance to ask her what was wrong, the sound of a gun being primed seemed to thunder in the small room.
"Enjoying yourselves?" a man asked from behind Michael. As Catherine raised both hands in the air, a second group filed in from the door the two trespassers had used to gain entry. With a loud gulp, Michael turned to face the speaker, a middle aged man with black hair, hard, hazel eyes and an assault rifle pointed at the doctor's chest. He was flanked by a pair of likewise well-armed gentlemen
"We are miles from anywhere, there's three feet of snow on the ground, it's below zero, and you're half naked," the man, who Michael could assume was the owner of the greenhouse, or at least the leader of its security, described. "Would either of you care to explain, or should I just shoot you now?"
"We'll pay for the peaches," Michael promised hastily. He knew that between them, they didn't have two caps to rub together, and doubted anything as rare as fruit would be cheap enough for them to trade what they had in their packs for, but he hoped he could buy some time.
"We had an accident," Catherine explained truthfully. "We fell in the river and this was all we could salvage."
For several moments the leader didn't seem to care, or he didn't believe them. Before he seemed to have time to make up his mind, a runner dashed into the greenhouse. Though the newcomer spoke softly and swiftly, Michael could make out several words, most notably: "Marti, Raider, and Maire." Before the runner had even finished, the leader of the group turned heel and darted back the way he'd entered.
"Get them into town," the man shouted over his shoulder as he darted from their sight.