REPOSTED ON MY PROFILE.
Matthew hears the man's voice on the radio and knows he has to get to that boat. Months out in the wilderness and on the run, he's sure this is his only - and perhaps last - chance. The girl in the mall might change his mind.
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Mona struck the match and tossed it into the firepit. The mindlessness behind the action scared Matthew a bit, what if it landed on the supplies instead, but Mona obviously did this every day because the match sailed effortlessly into the pit and struck the books that were being used as kindling. The flames sprouted immediately. They licked at the books quickly turning them to ash. The blaze burned brightly for a minute then died into a smaller, consistent flame. When they did Mona covered the pit with a grill plate.
Finally, the roar of hunger in Matthew's stomach would be silenced. It had quieted in the hours following his rescue, probably the adrenaline, but after huffing his mattress next to Mona's and running back to grab a set of sheets it returned full force. He was again distinctly aware of how little food he had consumed in a twenty-four-hour period. The same problem that had almost got him killed not even thirty feet away.
"What a waste of a good book," Mona muttered, rummaging through her stockpile for something Matthew couldn't see.
Feeling useless and hungry Matthew crept closer to the fire and watched the flame. His hand reached for a blackened golf club that he assumed acted as a poker. He sat squatted and prepared to stab at the embers if they so much as flicked.
Mona returned with a scorched pot and a bottle of water. She stood over him for a moment. With a shrug she dropped the pot on the grilled pan, dumped in the bottle of water and let it come to a boil. She left and returned with two cans of soup which she proceeded dump in the pot as well. Then she joined Matthew next to the fire.
Soon the scent of chicken noodle wafted around the space.
"It feels so good to be about to eat cooked food," he admitted to Mona. "Making a fire attracts plenty attention. Cold spaghetti is just nasty."
It really was but lighting a fire could attract zombies, animals, people. Not to mention he could fall asleep and accidentally set his surroundings on fire. So it was cold, canned soups that had the consistency of jam and the flavour of tin. He just had to stomach it down. Vegetables were easier to eat raw but harder to find by a mile and a half.
"I can bet." Mona took the poker from him and dug up in the ashes a bit. The fire perked up a little. "I've been in Tempest Waters for a long time. More than a couple of months. Before that it as an RV with a gas stove. I've been pretty lucky in the food department."
"I've been on foot since the beginning."
Matthew didn't know why he had started talking. Maybe it was the smell of the soup heating up on the fire. Maybe it was the presence of another human. Maybe it was because he had talked to himself so much he couldn't go without hearing his voice for too long. Either way, he couldn't stop himself.
Mona turned to face him and leaned back against the firepit. It seemed pretty dangerous but Matthew didn't think it was his place to speak out. It was his place to keep speaking though because he kept pressing forward.
