A/N: So, so, SO sorry for the delay between chapters. It took me a hot minute to work through some pacing issues I had. As a result, this chap is shorter than I planned, but, well...let's get to it.
Whenever she passed through a town, Bella was in the habit of ducking through an abandoned building or two. Even two years out, with compounds beginning to organize supply-gathering missions, it was impossible that each and every building had been ransacked. Bella was always careful, mindful of the signs of human activity, but she found these tiny rural towns were too full of resources to ignore. People had gravitated toward the larger cities after everything started crashing.
Outside the main gates of Yellowstone National Park, there was a tiny town. Bella still remembered what it had been like before—the sidewalks packed with tourists, the shops and restaurants beckoning people to stop. As Bella emerged from the treeline, her eyes darting left and right to catch any hint of movement, the silence of the little town was deafening.
For a few minutes, Bella just walked, taking it all in. Her heart ached as a memory of her father hit her. In the early days, when they first set off to get away from Forks, it had felt so wrong to duck into a shop or someone's home. It still felt like stealing. Survival, Charlie had said, was everything. It was a new world, and these weren't homes. They were resources, and nature would reclaim them soon enough.
He'd been right. Even on the main drag—mostly asphalt, stone, and wood—plants were beginning to take over. Quick-growing bushes and vines climbed windows and fences. The cracks in the road, now that cars weren't a constant presence, overflowed with green.
"Earth will take back what's hers," Charlie had said.
Still uncomfortable on the main strip, Bella ducked down a side street, then another until she came to a neighborhood. She readjusted her packs, looking at each house as she passed. She wandered at random until one of the homes called to her, and then stepped carefully into the overgrown lawn.
A chill went down her spine.
She'd once read a short story by Ray Bradbury. There Will Come Soft Rains. It was about an automated house that had carried on with everyday life—making breakfast, setting out clothes. It had asked questions of its owners and waited for answers that never came. The house continued on, oblivious to the fact the shadows of the people who had lived there were burned onto the wall of the garage—victims of nuclear fallout.
The whole scene was eerie. Bella stepped into a house that looked lived in. There was an umbrella in a rack just inside the door, and rainboots all in a row. There were pictures on the walls—a family of four, it seemed. She tried not to look at them as she ascended the stairs.
The master bedroom, like the rest of the house, was bathed in a strange darkness—what was left of the light when it filtered through blinds and windows coated with grime. The room was musty. Bella crossed and eased the window open, careful not to make any noise. She peered carefully out, scanning everything in eyesight.
Nothing but trees.
Satisfied she was alone, Bella turned and let out a strangled yelp. The sight that greeted her startled her. Paranoia spiked in her, and she cocked an ear, listening for signs of life in the house.
Laid out on the bed, the sequins of the bodice sparkling in the strong afternoon light, was a fancy, deep blue dress. At a glance, it looked as though the owner had just set it down and gone to take a shower, getting ready for a night out.
On second glance, Bella saw the yellow tinge to the bed's comforter. This scene had gone unchanged for years. The virus struck before the house's owner could get where they were supposed to go. Their night out doubtlessly forgotten as someone in the house fell desperately ill.
"Still life of a night interrupted," Bella muttered. She sat on the bed gingerly, fingering the silky fabric of the dress. A glance up and she spotted its mate—a tux hung on the closet door.
Bella closed her eyes tightly against the automatic vision the sight brought. A couple, getting ready together. Maybe waiting for the babysitter. And then, disaster.
She shook her head, willing the vision away and swallowing hard against the lump in her throat. She let her thoughts drift down a different path. The dress was deep blue. While she'd never been one to dress up willingly, she knew that color went well with her hair and skin. She imagined what the dress would feel like sliding on, swishing against her ankles. An old cliche from the movies came to her, and in her inane little fantasy, she lifted a necklace to her neck.
"A little help?"
In her imagination, Edward—clean shaven and stunning in the black tux—strode toward her. He smiled, taking the necklace from her hand. She lifted her hair, and shivered at the brush of his fingertips against her skin.
She blinked, knocked breathless by the rush of want that went through her.
She missed Edward. She'd ignored the terrible twist in her heart when she walked away from him the day before. She'd forced her feet to keep moving, reminding herself all the reasons she was safer alone. She'd been irritated to find her internal checklist was already used to including him and baby Aaron. She'd found herself making plans for dinner for two and a half rather than just herself.
And now this. The fantasy had come on her unbidden, and there was nothing she could do to stem the intensity of the emotion that crashed over her then. She ached for him; there wasn't a damn thing she could do to prevent it or deny it.
Bella dug the heels of her palms into her eyes, breathing deeply, trying to rub away the wet sting in her eyes.
The fantasy was bullshit anyway. In what reality would she have worn a dress of her own volition, let alone a fancy one like this one that would have required heels? When she was in high school, people told her she would regret not going to prom, but she never had. Whoever she would have been had she been allowed to grow up in the world of before, the likelihood she would have ever worn a dress like this had to be close to zero. And Edward…
Well. It was inevitable, right? Only to be expected. She was a straight female. He was the only person she'd been in close proximity to in two years. Of course her psyche used him to fill in the blanks in her idle little fantasy. It had nothing to do with him as a person. There was nothing more to it than the fact he was literally one of two people in the entire world she had even a little bit of trust in, the other being her mother, if she was even still alive.
Letting out a shaky breath, Bella let her hand drop onto the cool fabric of the dress, changing the subject in her head. She wondered if there would be a reason for anyone to wear something so fine again in her lifetime. She knew humanity as a whole would get back there—to a place where people danced and wore clothes with no other function than to look pretty. Slinky dresses. Tuxes. Bowties. Jewels. Who needed any of that now?
Shaking her head, Bella stood and walked to the closet. Unlike slinky dresses, jeans were very much in demand, at least by her. Bella picked up a fresh pair whenever she could get her hands on one. She rifled through the closet, rolling her eyes at the jeans with fashionable wear and tear holes. She thought again of her theory—why this had happened to them as a species. That a group of renegade scientists had engineered this virus to save the world. Humans were, among other things, incredibly wasteful.
But, to the ex-owner's credit, she did find a few almost-new, very practical boot cut jeans.
It occupied a solid two hours—setting out all the clothes she carried and comparing what was available in this closet. She replaced two sets of jeans and several pairs of socks from the man's side, his socks being thicker. By some miracle, she also found brand new hiking boots just half a size larger than her own size.
As afternoon wore into evening, she made her way downstairs. She put together a rare treat of a meal—the equivalent of a steak and lobster dinner by nomadic standards. While it would be impractical to bring more than a can or two of food with her, she always made sure to have a good meal when she found an actual pantry. That night, she feasted on a meal of white rice, peas, carrots, green beans, and spam. She'd even found a bottle of soy sauce to season it all.
She ate in the comfort of the musty living room, her legs stretched out over the couch. After a few minutes, she began to curse her choice of dining room. From where she was, it was impossible not to see things she didn't want to think about. The brightly colored playmat that covered most of the floor, each square with numbers, letters, or shapes; the toybox in the corner and the scattered toys around it. She tried not to think about what might have happened to the child who'd once played here.
Aaron would love the toys here. The bright colors. The smiling faces of the stuffed animals. If he was still with her, maybe she would pick out a toy or two that weren't too cumbersome. The child these had once belonged to couldn't enjoy them anymore, but Aaron still could. She picked up a unicorn and grinned when she realized it was one of those that looked precious at first but when squeezed bared awful, malicious-looking teeth.
There were toys on Edward's island compound. Aaron would be happy there if they made it. And maybe they would. If they were lucky. If Edward kept his guard up. They weren't so far from the Washington coast.
Bella stirred her food around and around in the fancy bowl she'd found.
"You can be a part of a real, functioning society again," Edward had said. "This nomadic lifestyle is all survival. Always working. You could breathe again if you were with us."
Such a pretty picture he painted. And what a weird thought. The idea she'd be a homeowner at twenty-four in this new society where money was meaningless… That she could choose who she wanted to be, the job she wanted to have.
She could be a part of a whole.
Of course, she had been that in Forks too, and look how that turned out. Boys would be boys, and what little justice there was had been sacrificed to the virus.
A sense of profound loneliness came over her like a lead blanket coating every inch of her skin. God damn Edward Cullen for reminding her what it was like to actually want to be around another person. After her father died, everyone left in the world became suspect. Her paranoia had kept her alive this far.
But it couldn't last forever. She knew that. Hadn't she told Edward as much? When he asked how life could be worth living if she was going to spend the next seventy years alone, always scared?
It had to end sometime. She had to find a society to belong to.
But was that time now?
A/N: Thanks for your patience, guys!
And to my recent anon who laments that I have a child and four WIPs… Life can happen to authors even who don't have children. :) Don't worry. I'll get it done. Just might take a little time.