Carol was feeling satisfied and strangely self-confident as she directed the royal servants. "Just take the entire bed," she told them. It would be ready to use whenever the knights found another refugee. "And come back for this filing cabinet. We won't need it anymore either."
The men nodded and began hauling the bed out.
Carol looked around Daryl's bedroom and smiled to think of how forward she'd been with him this morning. It had been thrilling to play the naughty, horny girlfriend, instead of the dutiful but reluctant wife, and clearly she'd succeeded in exciting him. He hadn't been able to walk away from her, and he'd surprised - but also excited - her by taking her as suddenly as he did. She loved his tenderness, but she also loved his virility, and she was looking forward to a wide variety of experiences with him in the weeks and months to come.
Carol began pulling open the drawers of Daryl's filing cabinet and clearing them out. There was plenty of room in her wardrobe and dresser for his clothes, and she didn't want this rusty, puke green piece to be part of their bedroom ensemble. She took the two button-down shirts (his "banquet shirts") out of his top drawer and hung them from hangers on the wardrobe rack. She took his "banquet pants" and his second pair of work pants from his second drawer and hung them up as well. In the third drawer she found a bunch of sleeveless t-shirts and underwear, which she lifted to transfer to her empty dresser drawer.
That was when her eyes fell on a flash of flesh - a pair of young, naked, and beautiful female breasts. Thinking she'd uncovered a porn magazine, she felt suddenly embarrassed, but also insecure and a little bit irritated. What did he need that for, now that they were having sex? Was she failing to satisfy him? Did he wish she looked more like the women in those magazines? Ed had always compared her unfavorably to them.
But as she completely cleared the clothes off of the picture, she realized she was looking at the cover of an illustrated sex guide, and not just any sex guide, but How to Please a Woman. Beneath that was the Joy of Sex and below that The Modern Kama Sutra. Carol smiled.
She hid the books at the bottom of his new underwear drawer in their now shared dresser and waited for the servants to return for the old filing cabinet. When they left, she turned Daryl's old bedroom into a library/study. Then she drew out the buried sex guides, sat down at the teacher's desk in the new study, and began paging through them, noticing with excitement, amusement, and occasional trepidation Daryl's marginal notes and underlines.
She picked up a pencil and began making a few notations of her own in the margins of the books, such as, "That's not true. Don't believe that"; "You're good at that"; "I like that"; "I do not like that"; "That looks fun. We should try it"; "No! Gross. No."; or "Yes!"
When she was finished with her own commentary, she closed the books up and returned them to his underwear drawer.
[*]
The bullet hit a tree just to the right of Jakob, a mere two inches above his head. The huntsman ducked, dropped his rope, and grabbed his rifle. Al also dropped his rope. Holding his spear with his left hand, the tall African unholstered his handgun with his right. Henry and Daryl leveled their weapons at the tree line and scanned the foliage for any sign of the shooter.
Another shot rang out, sending the dirt and leaves up in a cloud just in front of Al's foot. He leaped backwards.
Jakob and Henry let off a barrage of rifle fire in the general direction from which the two gunshots had come. The huntsmen must have fired eight shots between the two of them, instinctively and without knowing what they were shooting at, before they paused to evaluate.
"Stop!" a deep voice cried out from somewhere in the forest. "Don't shoot! Thought you were flesh-eaters! Sorry!"
The huntsmen lowered their guns, though Daryl, his alert eyes darting left and right and back, kept his crossbow leveled.
"We're people!" Henry yelled.
"I can tell that by the way you fired back," came the voice.
All four men kept their eyes on the tree line as twigs cracked and leaves crunched and finally a man emerged, holding up his hands, his rifle shouldered. "I didn't hit anyone did I?"
"Very nearly," Henry said. "Maybe you should get a clear sight picture before you start firing, you think?"
"Sorry," the man apologized again. "I haven't seen any people in months. I really thought you were flesh-eaters."
"I have no idea how you've survived this long just squeezing off distant shots like that," Henry lectured him as he approached. "Gunshots draw the lurchers, you know. And no one can be wasting ammunition in this world."
"You just shot at me eight times," the man reminded him. "Without knowing where I was."
"Zat was different," Jakob insisted. "You were shooting at us."
"Again, I apologize."
Henry looked from Al to Jakob. Jakob raised a bushy eyebrow. Al shrugged.
"How long have you been in these woods?" Henry asked.
"Just since yesterday. I've been moving constantly, all over Maryland and now here, trying to find my wife." He held out his hand to Henry. "I'm Jason."
Henry took a step back, away from the man's hand. A look of pain or doubt or fear - Daryl couldn't quite tell which - crossed his face. But then Henry very reluctantly extended his hand and shook. "Henry Wordsworth."
The rest of the huntsmen introduced themselves one by one. As Daryl shook, he looked the man over. He was tall, lean, tan and handsome, probably in his early forties, with thick, wavy black hair and olive-green eyes. Daryl didn't get a suspicious vibe from the man himself, but the wary way Henry was eyeing Jason put Daryl on edge.
"Where did you lose track of your wife?" Henry asked with what seemed to Daryl a forced calm.
"We got separated in Rockville," Jason said. "When we were scouting for supplies. We were divided by a herd of flesh eaters."
"Rockville?" Henry asked, and the strange, hollow tone in his voice caused Daryl to grip his crossbow instinctively tighter. He had a sense Henry was making connections he wasn't or couldn't.
"I'm sure it must have looked to her like I was devoured, but I crawled safely under some wreckage, and as I was crawling out, I saw her jumping into a slow moving car. Whether she was being abducted or rescued, I don't even know. But I keep looking for her. It's all that keeps me going."
"What did the car look like?" Henry asked.
"Just a sedan. But it had..." His eyes dropped to the boomerang in Henry's belt. Jason stepped back, breathed in sharply, and covered his mouth with a hand. With his other, he seized the butt of his rifle, which caused Jakob to raise his rifle in warning.
"This symbol," Henry said, drawing out the boomerang and pointing to the painted, seven-pointed crown that symbolized the Kingdom.
Jason nodded and slowly let go of his rifle, letting it hang loose against his shoulder.
Henry shoved the boomerang back in his belt. He bent over slightly, like he'd just experienced a sudden cramp.
"Your wife must have been rescued by one of the knights of the Kingdom," Al told Jason as Henry began to walk away toward the woods, holding his side.
"The Kingdom?" Jason asked.
"It is what we call our camp," Al said. "Our community. Return with us, and we will see if your wife is there."
"Where is he going?" asked Jakob, watching Henry retreat.
Henry walked faster, until he was partly out of sight, half his body obscured by trees, at which point he put his palm flat against a tree.
"Is he sick?" Jakob asked.
"What is your wife's name?" Al asked.
"Gloria O'Donnell," Jason answered. Jakob and Al turned their eyes slowly to one another, and then to the woods, where Henry now stood with his forehead pressed against the rough bark.