An Unlikely Place

By G A Lanham

In a galaxy where human life is dear and youth is valued over age, Tamryn finds herself alone, and exile on a dying world. She mourns her lost husband and child, and watches her fellow exiles rail uselessly against those who cast them away. But when Tal-Malye, an Oshairan/Ekoshen half breed, wanders across her path, she senses a change to her future. When his Oshairan sister gives the human exiles hope, Tamryn begins to believe in life again.

Tamryn is drawn to Tal, attracted to his beauty and the strangeness of his nature. But she does not believe he returns her desire. She cannot shake her yearning for him, and when passion unexpectedly flares, they have no choice but to complete an Oshairan/Ekoshen marriage rite. While Tamryn struggles with her decision, knowing Tal will never love her, she discovers passion with an alien is far more dangerous than she ever imagined...

Join Tamryn was she journeys into the unknown, facing the violence of dangerous fanatics, and the power of Ekoshen desire. Experience the wonder of voyaging across lands both bleak and beautiful, as Tamryn explores the depths of what it means to belong to Tal and finds love in An Unlikely Place... his heart.

• Language: English
• Publisher: G A Lanham
• Release date: Jul 17, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465829863

G A Lanham

I was born in the Grand Canyon, literally, but raised in northern New Mexico. I currently reside just outside of Roswell with my husband and son. When I was seventeen I won publication in the Southwest High School Creative Writing Awards, the first from my school to do so. I later went on to publish a short story in the Roswell Literary Review entitled Dragon's Milk. An Unlikely Place is my debut novel. I am currently working on a sequel, as well as a seperate story about a women facing a choice, slavery through marriage or slavery in a brothel. Please visit my blog and my webpage for updates and upcoming releases. Thank you dear readers. Without you I would not have a voice.

Book preview

AN UNLIKELY PLACE

By:

G.A. Lanham

SMASHWORDS EDITION

* * * * *

An Unlikely Place

Copyright 2010

All rights reserved – GA Lanham

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage retrieval system, without the express permission, in writing, from the author.

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

* * * * *

Dedications

For my father, who believed in me always, and in all ways.

For my mother, who not only told me to keep my head in the clouds, but to write about what I saw there.

For my husband, who tolerates my obsessions and puts up with my eccentricities.

For my son, who I am proud of, and who I am sure shall go on to achieve all his dreams.

And for my friends, family, and co-workers who have encouraged my passion, put up with my doubts, and supported me in the achievement of my lifelong dream.

To everyone, my sincerest thanks and warmest regard.

* * * * *

TABLE OF CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

CHAPTER ONE

I sat alone at a makeshift wooden counter, eating a tasteless dinner and listening to the endless cry of the wind. Stale beer, sweat, alien scents and hopelessness stained the air with pungent odors I could never seem to evade, even in the wild gush of air outside. Quiet murmurs broke the silence which often settled beneath the whine of the storm; I fancied the gusting wind sang a dirge for humans and their lost humanity. I hunched down in the pervasive chill and tried to ignore it all. But I could not escape my thoughts. They wailed as constantly as the wind outside, while I considered the bleak world we found ourselves upon and the non-existent future I faced.

Future. It had once been a word of hope, of anticipation. Now it was a word of dread. I shifted restlessly and shoved my spoon into the congealing mass of vegetables and meat. The food was unappetizing, but it was a change from porridge and dry cereal. I glanced around the dimly lit room. The flickering shadows emphasized the dinginess of the place. Chairs and tables of dry, splitting wood lurked like misshapen beasts. There were few aliens in the bar, aside from the proprietor, but I had no interest in them. I sat back and closed my eyes. Images of Joey swirled to life behind my lids.

He had been such a beautiful man, tall, blue eyed, and handsome. His was the sort of rugged good looks advertisers once used to sell cigarettes and wine. He could have any woman in the world, but he chose me. I could never understand it. Tears swam into my eyes as I remembered the first night he kissed me, and the day my daughter was born. I thought of the plans we made, and the way our future seemed so certain. I swallowed against the tightness in my throat. There was no future. Joey was dead. Everyone I once loved was dead.

I shook my head sharply, as if the movement would dislodge sorrow like rain. There was no comfort in my thoughts and I could not escape them. I hunched forward, bringing my hands to my head, my fingers clutching the dirty mass of my hair. I rocked back and forth, my jaw clenching. I squeezed my arms closer against my skull until the muscles ached. I wanted to scream; my teeth ground against each other in screeching protest.

My future, I thought. My future was dead, as dead as the planet which spawned me, as dead as my heart.

It was five years after the nightmare began. Five years of suffering, death, destruction, and sorrow. And now, five years after the onset of the plagues, I find myself in a rackety bar, eating tasteless food and listening to the screaming of the wind. I choked back sobs. Depression, something I never gave much thought to before, snapped at my heels and dragged upon my mind. I never before faced such a hopeless outcome. Always I was strong; I would go on because I had to, because giving up was not an option. I would earn my life back. I would start over. Yet, in the course of five years, I lost my future. I was too old to start over. For the first time ever I longed for death.

A sudden disturbance intruded on my sadness. Wind shrieked as the rickety door blew open in the wake of new arrivals. The low murmurs echoing through the room stuttered and faltered and then picked up louder than before. A chill shuddered down my spine and I spun around. Five aliens entered the bar, which was run by a Talrain reject who looked more like a dirty, grey slug than an intelligent life form. It grunted and gyrated in its fashion while the new arrivals politely answered.

I had been around them long enough to recognize the Oshairans, who made up three of the five strangers. Their calm expressions, their piercing black gazes, their beautiful faces… all these details caught at my mind. They were tall, gorgeous, and aloof. Their appearance was extraordinarily like a human’s, yet their beauty resembled a movie star portrayed on the silver screen. They were unattainable and beyond our hopelessness. The other aliens resembled the Oshairans in many ways, but their expressions were almost friendly. One smiled and it was breathtaking. Unlike their companions, they wore colorful tunics and pants of some unknown but skillful weave. They carried weapons, what looked to be knives or swords. The Oshairans, in contrast, wore dark brown cloaks that obscured the clothing beneath. They hid their ebony hair and porcelain skin with deep hoods. They all moved with unearthly, fluid motion.

The Oshairans selected a separate table from the unknown alien males and sat themselves. The Talrain slug, for I could think of no better description, slinked over to them with a tray of assorted drinks. The Oshairans gravely accepted this offering. The other aliens commenced to talk in low voices that were musical and soothing. Occasionally they glanced around, taking in the groups of desultory humans sitting about the room. The humans averted their eyes and ignored the arrivals as effectively as they ignored each other.

I kept watching. Abruptly one of the males turned his head my way, the one with the arresting smile. His eyes collided with mine. Such a rich color, like mahogany and cream, flecked with caramel. He seemed surprised while I blushed scarlet to have been caught staring. Yet I could not look away, drawn to his honey-hued skin, his lithe frame, his long, narrow jaw, oddly shaped nose, and beautiful, wide eyes. Those same eyes narrowed. The full mouth pursed. I realized how rude I was, how exposed and foolish I had been, and I abruptly turned back to my forgotten meal. I hunched down, feeling his eyes upon my back. But his conversation never seemed to falter. He did not approach me.

After awhile I got up. My appetite was gone. My interest in the scarce comfort offered by proximity to other humans faded. I stumbled a little, my legs cramped from sitting on the hard stool. I tried not to look, but could not help myself. The aliens were ignoring me as effectively as everyone else. I shuddered, tears pricking my eyes. I felt clumsy, unattractive, and old. I fled the bar, trying to escape the unearthly grace of the aliens, not even admitting to myself how much I envied their beauty and easy camaraderie. Out in the wailing darkness, I fought an exhausting battle with the unforgiving wind. I took an erratic path back to my shelter. It was warm, for all its cramped size, and in a way welcoming. It was, after all, now my home. I threw off my jacket, seeking the comfort of the bed and my aimless thoughts. I fell asleep envisioning the alien with the mahogany and cream eyes, and dreamed of his brilliant smile.

* * * * *

Morning brought no change to the wailing wind or my own dark destiny. I woke exhausted. I had no interest for the day. My depression and hopelessness returned, looming in my horizon. I lay for long minutes trying to remember dim and restless dreams of a shining light which somehow resembled a smile. I recalled the alien male, but while my stomach tightened and embarrassment brought a vague flush to my cheeks, I could not generate real interest. No doubt the Oshairans and their fascinating companions had since moved on. Most aliens who passed through this place stayed only a night. They used the inter-dimensional gates dotting the barren world, braving restless winds on their way to a more welcoming climate. I longed to follow. I was reminded of the small town where I had grown up, facing another kind of bleak existence with endless toil and minimum wages. Yet there I had had the possibility of a future. Here I had nothing.

After awhile I forced myself to move, to get up, to wash myself and eat tasteless cereal, my only food. Humans, like other transients stranded here, were expected to work for their existence. I donned my ragged jacket, picking at my dwindling collection of faded blue jeans and old T-shirts. They represented the last remnants of human civilization, ragged treasures we once took for granted. I imagined clothing sitting in dusty piles, grown tattered and faded while rats and mice took up residence in them. Cities would slowly crumble as forests and grass reclaimed them. How long, I wondered. How long before humans forgot what they had lost? I sighed and turned away.

Before the plagues struck, I had been what one would call overweight. Not obese, just plump, the result of giving up on staying fit. Afterwards, when my husband and daughter both succumbed to the first waves of sickness, I lost much of the weight I had gained over the years. I was back to my pre-marriage shape, round in the right places, narrow in the rest. But my face did not take well to my new, thin look. I eyed myself critically in the warped mirror that was my only vanity. My face was too narrow, lacking anything to lend it beauty, my green eyes dull and haunted. My lips were too thin, my nose was too long, and my dark auburn hair was liberally streaked with silver. I could find nothing of the person my Joey had loved. I blinked back a random tear and turned to face my day.

Outside a faded sun glared from behind an endless haze of dust. It flooded a wide basin surrounded by dull hills with pale yellow light. The sky was as brown and flat as the land it enclosed, revealing not even a cloud to break its monotony. I had learned it would eventually rain during the summer seasons, and supposedly the landscape would then erupt into vibrant color. I could find no promise of it in the featureless landscape I faced now. I stared around at the small, stooped shacks and leaning buildings that made up the ragtag settlement. Vague alien shapes mingled with the huddled forms of humans. I pulled my jacket tight against my shoulders, and hunched into the constant breeze. I stumbled as I entered the narrow pathway wending its way between buildings, heading for the one other eating establishment available. I was a server there, and sometimes a cook to the aimless wanderers who might stop for refreshment or relief from their dull, crushing jobs. I hated my work; I found no joy in it. I found no joy at all.

The day passed in slow, mindless drudgery. I moved mechanically between customers, bringing cups of tepid water and homogenous porridge. I had no break, and received no lunch. And when the day began to draw to a close, I was dismissed without a word of thanks or interest by another Talrain who ran the little establishment. I trudged away and then suddenly veered from my course. I was overwhelmed by the urge to flee, to seek the open lands beyond our settlement, to find…something. I could not face the chores waiting for me in my shack. I could not eat another tasteless meal in the rackety bar where all the other lost souls gathered. I almost ran for the sparse, rocky soil of a nearby hill, scrambling up its crumbling side and panting in the thin air. When I finally reached the top I turned, staring at the sprawling settlement of haphazard shacks and old, featureless buildings. I turned away again. Such an unlikely place to find myself in…

Evening was drawing in fast, leeching what little warmth was to be found. I braved the constant wind, narrowing my eyes against the stinging dirt and grit clogging the air. Many of us suffered from chronic coughs and congestion, and often had to cover our mouths and noses with dirty rags to find relief. Yet strangely, on this lonely hill top, I found the atmosphere clear if cold. Blazing orange and red light stained the perpetually brown sky, the fading glory of a sun near its end. I imagined it would die quietly, without notice, while the barren worlds circling it slowly froze to death. Where humanity might be then, I would not hazard a guess. But I imagined cruelty, greed, and indifference would remain our primary traits. I could not find it within myself to be charitable. I did not consider I was as prone to these flaws as anyone.

Eventually the spectacular colors began to fade and the day deepened into twilight. I turned from the horizon, trying to find some measure of comfort in a hauntingly familiar sight. Now the wind pushed against my back, blowing my hair into my eyes and across my mouth. Irritably I brushed at it, but the breeze was relentless. Restlessly my eyes roamed across the various structures, their forms becoming insubstantial against a sky that obscured rather than revealed the stars. Humans moved shoulder to shoulder with aliens, most of which I could not identify in the darkness. Occasionally the dim light of the street lamps flared across an oddly shaped cheek or glinted in an oversized eye. No one paid any attention to me, though I knew my shape must have loomed against the dimly lit horizon.

Then a mounted figure emerged into the town center. My stomach tightened as I instantly recognized him. The alien male rode a prancing beast that tossed a shimmering mane against the darkness. Twin, spiraling horns stabbed at the wind. The rider wore a long cloak which the breeze caught and billowed behind him with reckless abandon. It lent him a mysterious quality, suggesting the shape of a magician or an angel. His face was hidden in the deep shadows of his hood; no hint of his honey shaded skin or his mahogany eyes were apparent.

He turned his head up and even in the darkness I felt his eyes touch mine. I suddenly had no breath. His gaze brushed across my skin like a caress. He halted the dancing motion of his mount, staring at me as though shocked I was there. And maybe he was. Or perhaps he meant to prevent me from fleeing. No memory of that impulse remained. Then his hidden eyes loosed me, and a careless prod sent his mount dancing forward again. He disappeared among the twisted buildings. Disappointment, sharp and bitter, startled me with its fierceness. A shining beacon in the darkness had just ridden away, journeying to a future both guaranteed and expected. I sighed, feeling the cold and emptiness return as I remembered the tasks that waited for me, and the future I did not have. I could not even find comfort in the thought I was not alone, because misery does not love company.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

CHAPTER TWO

The days blurred into weeks and then months. The sharp edge of my pain faded into resignation. I recognized I had given up and was simply waiting for the days to end and my life to fade. Oddly enough, other people were reacting differently. Their despair transformed into anger and bitter rejection of their circumstances. I felt the growing tension on those days when I grew tired enough of my company to seek the dubious comfort of theirs.

Not all the humans who found themselves in this backwater world were old. Some had outright refused to join the breeding program, or had opposed the various new rules our makeshift government decided to enforce. So few people remained after the plagues that perceived troublemakers and non-conformists were not to be tolerated. It was easier to exile them than struggle to establish a fair existence for everyone. Since these people were younger, they were inclined to rebel against the status quo. They were spoiling for a fight. It was stupid. We would be ineffective and all we would accomplish was further exile, somewhere worse.

I never voiced this opinion. I never spoke to anyone though I listened to their talk with mixed feelings. On the one hand, if their rebellion eventually led to our death, could it be such a bad outcome? It would be an end to our shadow existence. On the other hand, if the rebellion were successful, it could mean a new beginning, a chance at life with possibilities. But I could not believe any fight we instigated would lead anywhere. Just to more of the same harsh existence we now faced. I could not dredge the barest interest in it. So I held my peace, and gave vague shakes of my head when someone occasionally tried to draw me out. Our days continued with back breaking work in the daylight hours, morose drinking and bitter, angry talk in the evening.

Then one day the winds stopped. Most mornings I awoke to rise mechanically, perform my ablutions, and head out into the bitter storms to earn my keep. But on this morning I could not move as I lay in shocked stillness, listening to a silence I never believed possible. I had forgotten what it sounded like to hear my breath, to listen to my muted heartbeat. I hardly dared to move, stopping to wonder at the rustle of bedclothes, and the creak of springs as my weight shifted. I got up slowly, my world new and earnest. For the first time in longer than I could remember, I felt an eagerness to dress, walk out into the waiting daylight, and see the world I lived in. I skipped breakfast and opened the door, blinking in the bright sunlight, shocked anew to find the air clear and fresh. I ventured out as other people were doing, bewildered and lost in this unfamiliar landscape. I gazed upwards, staring at a brilliantly blue sky. The weak sun shone with almost eager warmth. It felt like a spring day in April, fresh and full of promise.

Belatedly I recalled the wind had been slacking off steadily for days, the dust had been settling, and it had been easier to breathe. As I walked through the little settlement I found I was smiling. I was actually grinning in delight at the prospect of warm days, blessedly silent evenings, and no wind. People greeted each other eagerly; I was subjected to several hello’s and hi’s, and jovial hand waving. Those aliens living beside us, mostly Talrain, were also venturing out, but they seemed stoic and unimpressed. In the unveiled sunlight, their grey, wrinkled skin was whiter. Though they still resembled giant, upright slugs to me, they did not seem as ugly as before. Perhaps, faced with the unexpected gift of good weather, I felt more generous than I normally did. I almost laughed. The sudden shifting of my emotions into something other than apathy was painful, like the ache experienced when blood was restored to a limb. I was not sure whether I was pleased or disappointed, that I could still find joy in my world.

As I emerged into the open center of town I stopped again, eager and pleased to see white, fluffy clouds dotting the brilliant sky. It was a sky no longer obscured with a perpetual brown haze. There was a breeze, but it was gentle and sweet, scented with a delicate, unidentifiable perfume. I breathed deeply and felt for a brief moment as if I were on Earth, standing outside after a long and bitter winter.

It almost makes a day of hard labor tolerable, a tenor voice said. I never thought I would see true daylight again.

I turned, realizing the speaker was addressing me. I was standing face to face with Travis Holbrooke. He was a man of medium height and build with sandy brown hair and friendly brown eyes. He was younger than I, maybe in his mid-thirties. There were tired lines around his eyes and mouth, and though he was grinning, pain lingered behind the smile. I smiled in response and spoke, surprised my voice didn’t crack with disuse. It was lower and huskier than his and seemed to startle him.

Yes, I thought summer was a thing of the past.

Travis stared at me, his smile fading. I looked down automatically, thinking I had somehow mutated into something unrecognizable as human. I frowned in puzzlement, meeting his brown eyes and seeing amazement in his expression.

What? I began to feel annoyance as the silence between us lingered.

Oh! Nothing. It’s just that… He was uncertain suddenly.

Just what? I sighed.

Well, you’ve never talked to any of us. We all sort of thought you couldn’t.

Surprised I just stared at Travis. I burst out laughing. I couldn’t help it. His expression was comical, a mix of uneasy sincerity and embarrassment. He shifted, glancing around, and finally answered my humor with a sheepish grin. For myself, I could not describe what I was experiencing as the high brought on from unexpected laughter made me giddy. I had to make an effort to calm myself, but I did so reluctantly. Having found pleasure I did not want to banish it again.

I’m sorry, I murmured. It feels so good to laugh. I thought I had forgotten how. Travis nodded and chuckled, relaxing. His was a pleasant laugh, light and airy. Mine, I decided, had a slightly hysterical edge. I shook my head, pushing at my hair, which was long and unkempt.

I never thought about it, I said, now answering his earlier comment. Until today, I had no reason to speak. He shrugged a little.

It’s understandable. There wasn’t much to talk about I suppose. Then he gave me a closer look and I smiled again. He frowned and then smiled in return.

You should laugh more often. You have a pretty smile. Startled I stared, feeling a slight flush under my skin. He grinned, enjoying my discomfort. I relaxed. He was trying to be nice, I thought. He didn’t really mean it. Why should he? I was too old for him.

Thank you, I murmured. That was a nice thing to say. He shook his head and then turned, answering a greeting from somewhere beyond my line of sight.

Shall we?

Travis offered me his arm. I laughed and took it, feeling strange, not myself. We walked in silence towards the rackety bar I almost never entered anymore. It was amazing, I mused. It was remarkable how a change in the weather could bring about a change in mood. There was almost a hopeful feeling in the air, and a notable lack of rebellion in the faces of other patrons as we entered the establishment. I wrinkled my nose as we sat at a table, smiling and nodding to the group of men and women greeting us. They glanced at me curiously. I shifted uncomfortably.

It’s okay, Travis said after introducing me. She’s just shy.

This seemed to trigger a sudden spat of nervous murmurs. I was introduced to various individuals who made up the motley group. Many I recognized from previous nights of rebellious talk and arguing. Jim Tullens was the apparent leader, a tall, middle aged man with long ebony hair and a demeanor suggestive of an American Indian warrior. Beside him sat a younger woman with reddish brown hair, a forgettable face, and eyes the shade of coffee. Her name was Jeanne, but she only offered a reserved smile.

Others in the group gave their names, but I promptly forgot them. Most of the conversation shifted, breaking into individual comments flung between various pairs seated around the bar. I sighed and sat back. The place still smelled like sweat and despair, though the odor of stale beer was fading. Most human made alcoholic beverages had been consumed long ago. When they could, many drank the strange, amber liquid the Talrain passed off as alcohol. I had no taste for it.

So you never did tell me your name, Travis commented. I startled a little, having forgotten for the moment he was there. He had an easy smile and he used it freely. I shrugged.

Tamryn,

Tamryn, he said, trying it out. Nice. It suits you.

If you mean it’s old, like me, than I suppose you would be right. Travis’ smile faltered, and he suddenly leaned forward, his expression earnest.

No, that’s not what I meant. It’s pretty and you are too. I flushed. I wasn’t sure why the flattery irritated me so much.

Travis, it hardly matters. Whatever I might once had that could be labeled pretty has long faded. Much like a flower. I’m too old and I don’t care anymore.

Travis flinched at my tone. Even I was surprised at the bitterness apparent in my brief comments. Suddenly I was sorry. Travis was crestfallen. He was attractive in his way, with a nice smile and the sort of easy good looks that promised kindness and devotion. I imagined he was lonely and I had to admit I was as well.

Look, I’m sorry, I blurted out, unable to bear a silence that was becoming uncomfortable.

It’s okay, he said, but he did not sound as if it was. I guess I’ve lost my touch. There was genuine regret and the pain I glimpsed before flared in his eyes.

Hey, I really am sorry. It’s been too long. There has been too much loss. I’ve lived in the darkness for so long; I find it difficult to function in any kind of normalcy. Friends?

Travis looked at the hand I was holding towards him as if it might bite. Then he relaxed, accepting my explanation and my verdict with more grace than I expected. He took my smaller hand in his big, square one, and pumped it once before releasing it.

Friends. Why not? It’s a start.

He turned and motioned to the Talrain proprietor, accepting two glasses of thick, yellow milk which tasted like honey but had a bite like mead. I never asked where it came from, but like many humans, I found it enjoyable in small quantities. Travis raised his glass in a mocking toast.

To new life, new friendships, and an end to winter!

Various comments of here, here, and I’ll drink to that! answered him as he clicked the glass against mine and then drank deeply. I could never swallow the stuff down as Travis was, so I restricted myself to a delicate sip. Travis began speaking about his former life. Both of us seemed to find discussion of our experiences surreal. It was as if they were not really gone, and we were sitting in a coffee shop on a Saturday morning discussing our brilliant, hectic lives.

So where did you live before… you know, the plagues, the exodus, all that? I shrugged.

New Mexico. And you?

Alabama. Well, actually I was born in Minnesota, but we moved to Alabama when I was fifteen. After I graduated from college, I became an investment broker.

An investment broker? Really? Were you any good? Travis smiled.

Sure. I did well enough. I had a sense for the payoffs, you know? I let a slight smile curve my lips.

Payoffs? What kind of payoffs? Travis matched my smile.

The good ones.

We started laughing. Travis sobered after a moment but a grin still played around his lips. I studied him as he talked; he was charming the way a small boy charms strangers with his open, innocent expression. I imagined he charmed his way into many of his friendships.

No, I was an honest broker.

I barked out a derisive laugh. Travis chuckled, appreciating the irony of his statement. Before the plagues other scandals often dominated the news, stories of dishonest investors and their brokers.

Were you married? I asked next. Travis’ smile faded, darkness overshadowing the humor.

No, he answered. I was engaged but she died in the first wave. Grim silence descended.

I’m sorry.

Why? It wasn’t your fault. I looked away quickly as his eyes glittered. Travis cleared his throat, the sound harsh to my sensitive ears.

What about you? he asked. I knew he wanted to shift the conversation away from himself, from the pain he was feeling. But I was reluctant to travel down the path he offered.

Yes. My answer was