Hunger

It was humbling to realize how stupid he was.

“I think it’s more likely you’ll come back to shovel snow for me than you having a chocolate bar in your bag.”

Gareth held back a sigh. He didn’t want to kill this man.

“So a rooster for some snow shoveling?” He made his voice sound light and hopeful. The longer he could hold on to the chocolate, the better.

The man looked away, and Gareth could’ve grabbed his knife and thrown it. He could’ve aimed for his arm or shoulder, something non-lethal.

He didn’t.

Instead, he waited.

“How about no rooster, but I feed you one meal, and you don’t come back, ever?”

Gareth considered it. A meal was one meal more than he had at the moment, but he wanted meat. Really fucking wanted it.

People living out here most often didn’t have access to grains, so maybe a meal wouldn’t be unsalted oatmeal, which was what they most often served in the city.

“What’s your name?” If the man had food, Gareth wasn’t sure he could promise not to come back. Hunger made the best intentions go out the window.

“Kegan.”

Kegan? It wasn’t what he’d expected. He’d been sure it would be something more exotic. It wasn’t the most common name, but he’d assumed he’d have an… Asian-sounding name. Or not. It was hard to tell. Something about his eyes and nose made Gareth want to say Asian. Japanese maybe? Yes, Japanese, but… diluted. The hair wasn’t dark enough, and didn’t the Japanese have straight hair? He was sure he was stereotyping. And it didn’t matter. He’d never cared before what someone’s heritage was, so why start now? It was… well, Kegan was beautiful.

He had freckles. No grown man who wasn’t a redhead should have freckles. Too fucking cute.

“I’m Gareth Cadell.”

“A friend of Parker’s?” There was a slight tremor in his voice again.

Gareth narrowed his eyes and went through names in his mind. Did he know a Parker? Was Parker their first or last name? “I don’t think so.”

“Parker didn’t tell you to come here?” Kegan’s knuckles turned white as he curled his fingers tighter around the bow.

“No. I heard the roosters crow and hoped it was a bird that had survived the collapse.” It was all true. He’d heard the crow and moved closer in hopes of finding a chicken running around. One smart enough to have stayed away from foxes or birds of prey. It happened. It was rare, but sometimes luck was on your side.

Kegan gave him a slight nod. “So a meal for my freedom?”

For his freedom? “I believed I was the one under threat here.”

The eye roll hung in the air. At least Kegan wasn’t stupid. He’d realized they were at a stalemate. He most likely also was aware Gareth had a lot more to win by killing Kegan than Kegan had by killing Gareth. Had he ever killed anyone? Gareth had lost count of how many lives he’d taken, but the first one was the hardest. If Kegan hadn’t killed before, he might hesitate. There was no room for hesitation out here.

“One meal, then you’ll leave me alone.”

Gareth nodded. “For now.” He most likely shouldn’t have said those words, but Kegan had to be aware he couldn’t feed people and then expect them to forget where he lived.

He blew out a breath, closed his eyes, and lowered his bow. The despair taking over his face tugged at something inside Gareth. Yeah, Kegan knew.

“This way.” He put the arrow back into the quiver and headed in the opposite direction from where Gareth had come. Kegan walked until they reached the corner of the hedge or whatever and took a left turn. A wrought-iron gate, mostly hidden behind brushes and ivy, came into view. Gareth would bet it was nearly invisible when there were leaves on the trees. He almost regretted having discovered Kegan’s hideout, but he shouldn’t keep roosters if he didn’t want people to know he lived here.

COLLAPSE