The room went quiet.

“Well, that’s not something you hear every day,” Adam remarked into the silence. “Everyone we know who is still alive is pretty much right here, and it’s not like new people would be bold enough to just walk up to the front door and knock.”

A fist pounded on the door again, a muffled sound from the front of the house.

“Who is it?” Josie asked, wide-eyed. “Who’s knocking on the door?”

“A ghost,” Christian answered with a straight face. Phoebe elbowed him.

Trevor snorted and stood up. “I’ll get it,” he announced. “It’s just Sebastian.”

“Is it really a ghost? Phoebe, is it? Is it?”

Trevor shook his head as he rounded the corner to the kitchen. He cut through the front living room, strode across the tiled entryway and opened the front door. Which wasn’t locked.

“What the hell—” Trevor started, ready to tear Sebastian a new one for knocking when the damn door wasn’t even locked, when he saw something unbelievable.

Something he hadn’t seen in over three months. Not since the end of the world.

He stood there slack-jawed because, what the fuck?

Three young women were on the front porch, staring at him with open mouths.

“Holy shit, he’s so handsome,” the tallest one said with awe-tinged wonder, lowering her shotgun. He met her gaze. Her cheeks flushed. She looked him up and down, hunger in her eyes.

“A man?” one of them squeaked.

“Can I touch you?” the other one breathed.

All three of them were armed to the teeth but seemed more distracted than ready to fight, so Trevor relaxed a bit and decided to go with the flow. “No,” he growled. “I’m not a specimen.”

“Darn it,” the first one pouted.

His lips twitched.

The second one, a woman with large hazel-green eyes, tan skin and wavy brown hair, lowered her gun too and shook her head, like she was trying to clear her mind. “Sorry, it’s just that we haven’t seen another man alive since—”

“Trevor!” a familiar voice said from behind him. Rebel stepped into the entryway. “Are you talking to me? I thought I heard—” She stopped at his side and looked out the front door. “What the hell?” she exclaimed.

The three women turned their heads to scrutinize Rebel. She leaned in and slid her arms around his waist. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder, pulling her in tighter.

This, he could get used to.

“Damn it, he’s taken,” one of them said.

“He’s mine,” Rebel declared. “You bitches better stay away.”

He snorted. “I’m yours?” He grinned down at her.

“At this moment you’re mine and no one else touches you but me,” she declared with fierce determination.

This was fine with him.

“Rebel Case?” the first woman said, her voice cracking.

Rebel turned her head. Trevor had a sudden feeling of pity for her, understanding in that moment what it must feel like to be “Rebel Case.” It was true. Each time she met anyone new, they would always know who she was, who she used to be, and have a preconceived notion of Rebel Case the movie star.

Rebel let go of his waist and stepped forward. He was surprised to hear her emotional response. “Krissy? Is that you?”

“It’s me,” said the tall woman with tears clogging her throat. “I’ve lost some weight and I dyed my hair black last week because I was bored as hell and needed a change, but yeah, it’s me.” She reached out a trembling hand. “Holy shit, Rebel, I can’t believe you survived.”

“I can’t believe I did either.” Rebel’s voice cracked. “I can’t believe it’s you. Out of all the people…”

Rebel stepped out onto the porch and threw her arms around the taller woman. They were hugging now and crying.

“I can’t believe this,” the third female said. She was tall and fit-looking, with dark skin and flashing black eyes. “What are the chances of that happening? I mean, California had almost forty million people living here, and most of the population dies except Rebel Case and her cousin? How can two survivors even know each other, let alone be related?”

Trevor jerked his head around. “Cousin?”

“Yeah. Krissy already boasted a million times that her cousin was Rebel Case, the movie star.”

“And I never believed it,” the other woman said. “Every time she told that story, I thought she was making that shit up.”

“Well, I was telling the truth, wasn’t I? Now you know. Rebel, these are my new friends, Kati Pearce and Tiana Lewis.”

The women turned toward each other, shook hands, and started chatting. Trevor stepped over the threshold and quietly shut the door behind him, trying to give Rebel a bit of privacy with her cousin before everyone else found out about the new arrivals.

“This is Trevor Mason, my boyfriend.” Rebel told them.

He smiled broadly after this introduction. There was more shaking of hands. They put away their weapons. Trevor was happy to see the situation had decreased to DEFCON 5.

“Come inside with us. There are more survivors to meet,” Rebel urged.

“More than you two?” Kati gasped. She pointed a finger at Trevor. “I thought he was the guy on the radio. And wait, do you mean there are more men here? Like him?”

“Like me?” Trevor asked. “What the hell does that mean?”

“I mean handsome and, well…” She swept a hand up and down… “you know. And also, are they all young? And are there—”

“Brown men, are there men of color here?” Tiana broke in.

Trevor’s brow furrowed. “Uh, well there’s Adam, the guy who broadcasts on the radio every day, his last name is Sanchez. Christian is Armenian, and Justin is African American—”

Tiana grinned and gestured at the door. “Let’s go meet them.”

“Wait, wait,” Trevor urged.

“What’s wrong,” Krissy asked. “It sounds like you have three other men. One for each of us. See…” She pierced the other women with a hard stare, “I told you this place would have enough people so that there might be men for us to pair off with.”

“One for each of us,” Tiana exclaimed. “We’ll each have our own man. Girl,” she said to Kati. “Did you hear that? We’ll each have our own man.” They held each other’s hands and squealed.

Trevor shook his head.

“You guys, wait,” Rebel said. “What Trevor was trying to say is that one of those men is taken.”

“Huh?” Tiana’s shoulders slumped. “Taken? Which one? By who?”

“There are two more women in their group.”

“Dammit,” Krissy said.

“Adam is married to Rachel,” Trevor explained.

“Married? A married couple survived the apocalypse? You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“No, they met and fell in love afterwards and recently got married. She’s pregnant too,” Rebel said.

“Oh, oh okay. Wow, that’s romantic. And she’s going to have a baby? Well, shit, that’s wonderful, and he’s definitely taken. So that leaves two more men, right?” Kati said.

“I’m not so sure,” Rebel explained. “I think there’s something there between Sebastian and Phoebe, and the last guy, Christian, he’s in deep mourning.”

“Well, everyone lost someone in the apocalypse,” Krissy snapped. “He’s not exactly a special snowflake because he lost someone.”

Trevor clenched his fists, took a deep breath and explained, “He lost his wife and two small children, and his wife was eight months pregnant with their third child when she died. She screamed and bled out in the hallway of a hospital and there was no one to help her. He buried all three of them himself in their backyard. I found him on the front porch of his house, with a gun in his hand contemplating how to end himself.”

Everyone was quiet for a moment.

Kati coughed. “Well, sounds like there aren’t any men for us after all.”

“That fucking sucks,” Tiana gritted. “This whole world sucks.”

Trevor felt for them. He’d lived like that at first, too, wondering if he’d be spending the rest of his life jacking off, alone. Living on a planet with billions of people and being single when you wished you weren’t was hard enough, but having that option of meeting someone taken away from you, it played with your mind. It was something that could pull the rug out from under you and suck you into a dark place of no hope.

He’d been there. And now—he glanced at Rebel—he had hope.

“You still need to come in with us,” Rebel coaxed. “There are three men, two women and a little girl in there. Survivors, other survivors, and survivors need to stick together.”

He smiled hearing Rebel use Rachel’s favorite line.

“A girl?” Kati squealed. “They have a little girl with them? A child survived?”

“Yes,” Rebel answered. “She’s seven years old.”

“What color is she?” Kati asked.

“What does it matter?” Trevor challenged. Why did these woman keep asking about the color of a person’s skin? “She’s a girl, that’s all you need to know.”

Kati turned toward him. “It matters because I made a vow to myself that since the world ended and now we’re starting over, there’s no way in hell I’m going to accept things being how they used to be. No fucking way do white people get to rule everything and people of color get shit again. White men don’t get to automatically be the leaders. Women get to be treated equal. And LGBTQ people, they don’t get last place in the line again either. Enough of that crap. I’m not living with a bunch of white men who think they’re in charge. If your group is all white and proud of it, too, with the men thinking they rule the roost, I’m like, thanks but no thanks and I’ll be movin’ on. I’m telling you, I’d rather live alone.”

They were quiet for a moment, chewing on what Kati had said.

“The little girl, her name is Josie and I think she’s half African American,” Rebel offered. “And as far as I can tell, everyone treats everyone else here equally. No racism or sexism. I would’ve left immediately if I’d sensed any of that.”

There were tears in Kati’s eyes. She stepped forward, towards the door. “Okay,” she swallowed. “Okay then, let’s give this a try.”