Travis

The soft, moss-covered ground feels like freshly baked pie beneath my rubber boots as I walk off the beaten path after my six-year-old golden retriever. Every now and then I step on a puddle and mud splatters.

I glance down at the rust-brown specks on my black boot and frown.

That sure was some downpour last night.

The raindrops had already started falling by the time I’d finished work on the stables, and even more fell as I sat on the front porch. What started out as a drizzle, a gentle spring shower, escalated into a nasty downpour, the nastiest I can remember since the Icebreaker. It almost made me worry that another flood would come, this time in Noah’s Ark fashion.

Thankfully, it didn’t. The bullets from the sky eventually tapered off. Then they stopped falling.

All that was left were puddles and a chill in the air that sent me crawling under the quilt, from which warm, dry sanctuary I was rudely roused by a generous coating of canine saliva mere hours later.

I yawn as I look around for Toby and find him restlessly circling a pile of leaves.

Oh well. When a dog’s gotta go, a dog’s gotta go.

As he goes, I turn around and lift my head to look up at the sky.

The early morning mist is clearing now. The sky is making its routine transformation from gloomy gray to serene blue, and even the wisps of clouds are shedding off their dark garments for freshly washed immaculate ones. Through their seams, the first rays of sunlight pass through, lending a shimmer to the tiny drops of rain left on the leaves of the trees and blades of grass and bathing this patch of woods in an ethereal glow.

The glorious sight helps me shake off the cobwebs of sleep better than a cup of coffee would have—if I could get one—and puts a smile on my face. It’s little things like this that make me believe Hope Creek is a paradise.

I close my eyes and breathe in the scent of the soil after the rain, of the dewdrops drawing their final breaths, of a new day triumphantly dawning. Then I open my eyes, exhale and smile.

It’s going to be a good day.

Behind me, Toby barks.

“You think so too, don’t you, Toby?” I ask him as I turn to face him. “Especially now that you’ve done your business.”

Speaking of which, I catch a whiff of foul odor tainting the air and grimace.

I turn back on my heel. “Time to head back, boy.”

But he doesn’t dash past me to race me back to the house as he usually does.

I glance over my shoulder and frown.

Where did that mutt go?

“Toby?”

Nothing.

I turn around and shout louder. “Toby?”

After a few seconds, I hear a bark in the distance.

I sigh. Now what is he up to?

“Toby!” I call, but he doesn’t come.

The barking continues, and the more I hear it, the more my curiosity is piqued. This isn’t a normal bark. It’s a there’s-something-you-got-to-see bark.

“Alright, alright. I’m coming.”

I walk in the direction of the sound and after a few steps, I hear water.

The ditch?

It’s been dry lately, but I guess that downpour last night must have dumped enough water to quench its thirst.

I head towards it. Toby’s bark grows louder.

Soon enough, I see him. At the same time, I see the steel wall, the wall that keeps us separated from the rest of the world, that keeps us safe.

Even after all this time, I find it hard to believe it’s there, working its miracle every single day. Unlike the dome above Hope Creek, the wall can be seen from the inside. That way, the residents don’t carelessly wander out. Not that they ever get tempted to, because it’s also a reminder of the world we live in—of the haven that’s inside the dome and of the wasteland that’s outside. It’s a reminder that we live in a bubble that could burst at any moment.

I look at Toby and frown as I realize he’s barking at the wall.

“It’s just a wall, Toby,” I tell him. “Well, not just a wall. It’s a special wall, maybe the best wall ever, but it’s not worth barking at.”

Like a toddler his age, however, Toby doesn’t listen. In fact, he barks even louder.

I go over to him. “Toby, shh. If someone outside hears you…”

I pause at my own words.

Someone outside?

What if there is someone outside? What if that’s what Toby is barking at?

“Shh,” I tell Toby.

This time, he stops barking, as if he finally understands me.

I lean over to pick up a branch from the ground, a makeshift weapon just in case the person outside is hostile. At the same time, I cross my fingers and hope he’s not.

Hope for the best and prepare for the worst.

Cautiously, I approach the hatch on the wall. When I reach it, I glance back at my dog.

“Are you sure there’s someone out there?”

I get a “woof” and a wagging tail in response.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

I take a deep breath, grab the handle and push.

It doesn’t budge.

I push harder, grimacing with the effort, and still it doesn’t move.

Is it stuck? Or is it broken? As far as I know, this hatch has never been opened since the wall was built.

Then I see the round button above the hatch and I remember how the main door works. I place my entire palm on it and press.

The door shifts with a hissing sound. The edges protrude slightly from the wall. I give it one more push, and this time it gives way with a loud creak that I’m sure can be heard all over Hope Creek.

I hold my breath as I open it all the way. My other hand tightens its grip on the branch.

I don’t see anyone, though, or anything.

In fact, there’s nothing there. No trees. No bushes. No buildings. Just a bare expanse of reddish land as far as the eye can see. I pause to take it in.

I’ve been out of the dome a few times before. Still, each time, I feel like I’m waking up from a dream and I have to pause to let myself adjust. That’s how different the outside world is from Hope Creek.

Here, there are no animals or plants. There’s no food. No shelter.

No life.

Or so I think until I see what Toby must have been barking at—something curled on the ground just a few feet away from the edge of the trench.

An animal carcass?

I glance at Toby and gesture for him to go and inspect the pile, but he just takes a step back.

I frown.

“All bark and no bite,” I tell him before stepping out of the hatch.

As soon as I step on the sheet of metal outside the hatch, it jolts. The branch falls from my hand and hits the water several feet below with an inaudible splash.

A lump forms in my throat.

As the sheet extends to form a bridge over the deep trench a foot at a time, I try not to look down. I gaze straight ahead while positioning my feet wide apart and spreading my arms to keep my balance.

After what seems like an eternity, it stops. I jump onto solid ground and after warily looking in every direction, I approach the pile I saw earlier.

Moments later, my eyes rest on a nest of sand-colored hair turned mud, on tattered white robes and pale skin.

Nope. Not an animal.

A human.

I brush away the dirty blonde strands and frown.

A woman.

“Shit.”

I push the woman onto her back and press my ear against her chest. I hold my breath as I listen for a heartbeat.

Come on.

Something flutters against my ear.

A heartbeat.

Thank goodness.

Behind me, Toby barks.

“Oh, now you’re interested again, are you?” I ask him as I look at the woman’s body.

So she’s not a corpse. It’s an astounding fact considering that she’s all alone and wearing such thin clothes. I have no clue where she’s from or how she got here or when.

Was she lying here the whole time?

“Hey!” I shake her, but I don’t get any response.

What’s more, her skin feels cold to the touch.

I frown.

I have to get her warm. I have to get her inside a house and under a thick quilt. Not to mention I have to get her out of this hell where a demon could easily find her and extinguish what little life she has left.

Or do I?

I glance back at the wall and the dome that I don’t see but which I know is there right behind me.

If I bring this woman in, there’ll be one more person who knows that Hope Creek exists. What if she escapes and tells others about it? Or what if she stays and causes trouble? Even if she doesn’t, she’ll be one more mouth to feed.

An impatient bark from Toby snaps me out of my thoughts.

What am I thinking? This woman is a human being just like me, and she needs my help. In fact, I’m pretty sure she’ll die if I leave her here. So how can I? I’ve seen more than my fair share of deaths. I won’t let hers be on me. Angie would never forgive me for it.

Besides, there’s more than enough food in Hope Creek for now, and she’s already come this far.

The decision made, I slip my arms under the woman and lift her up, carrying her like a baby.

A big baby.

She may look small, but she’s still too big for my arms. And heavier than she looks.

I don’t complain, though. After carrying bales of hay and piles of firewood, not to mention injured comrades during my days back on the battlefield, this is no big deal.

Toby barks again.

“Oh, shut up unless you plan to help me,” I tell him as I start heading back to the hatch.

He shuts up, but even with the silence, I struggle to make it over the trench and back to the wall. Keeping my balance earlier was tricky enough. Keeping my balance while carrying someone in my arms is a serious challenge, and I have to stop a few times just to make sure neither of us falls.

Finally, I reach the wall and step inside the hatch.

Toby cocks his head and looks at me curiously.

“Yeah. Thanks for the help.”

He runs off and I set the woman down so I can close the hatch. As I do, I notice that the bridge has already disappeared. Once it’s shut, I give it a push just to make sure it stays in place. Then I step away from the wall and stand over the woman I’ve just brought over the trench.

She’s still not stirring, just breathing.

It makes me wonder if she has internal injuries, or if she’s in some kind of a coma.

I lift her in my arms again and start walking in the direction of the house. Toby’s muddy paw prints squish beneath my boots.

Well, I’m not a doctor, but luckily I happen to know someone who is.

“Don’t worry,” I tell the woman even though I’m not sure she can hear me. “You’re in Hope Creek now. Whatever’s wrong with you, Dr. Baker will surely make it right.”

~

“She’ll be fine,” Dr. Nancy Baker announces as she emerges into the kitchen from the guest room of the Bakers’ house. “She has a few scratches and bruises, but other than that, she’s in good shape.”

My eyebrows furrow. “But she’s cold.”

“She must have gotten caught in the downpour, which also explains why she’s so muddy, but she should warm up soon,” Nancy tells me. “Also, as far as I can tell, she has no internal injuries or broken bones. She doesn’t seem to be in pain, either, and she’s not malnourished. In fact, I can tell she’s been eating well, maybe as well as we have been.”

I get out of the chair I’ve been sitting on. “You’re saying she’s from a city?”

“The robe she’s wearing suggests it,” Nancy answers. “But I can’t say for sure.”

I look down at the floor.

That was definitely unexpected. And it changes things.

A lot.

“Anyway, Philip will be back soon, so I’ll tell him then,” Nancy says. “That’s his problem. In the meantime, why don’t you go inside and try to find out what you can about her?”

My eyebrows go up. “What?”

Nancy pats my shoulder. “The more we know about her, the better.”

I nod. Right.

I glance at Toby, who just stares at me with wide eyes.

“First we’re lifesavers. Now we’re detectives,” I mutter to him. “What are we? Baywatch?”

Toby just grins.

“Oh, and get those dirty clothes off her, will you?” Nancy says as she walks away. “There should be some fresh clothes in the closet.”

I turn my head towards her and blink. “What?”

“And while you’re at it, why don’t you wipe some of that mud off her as well?”

My jaw drops. “Um…”

“Come on. I’m busy and you’re not.” She’s already at the front door. “Besides, it’s not like you’ve never seen a naked woman before.”

The door opens and closes and she’s gone.

I place my hands on my hips and let out a sigh.

Yes, I’ve seen naked women before. Many times before, I might add. I’ve touched them, too, and more. Even so, this is a stranger we’re talking about, a woman I’ve never met. Not to mention she might be from one of the cities, which makes her a potential threat to Hope Creek.

I glance at the door to the guest room.

Then again, enemy or not, she is human and she does look filthy. Besides, I was the one who brought her here, so I guess it’s my responsibility to clean her up.

I glance at Toby, who’s still staring at me.

“What are you looking at?” I ask him. “I’m only following doctor’s orders.”

I draw a deep breath and enter the guest room.

The woman is still unconscious, which I suppose should make things easier. She’s lying on the bed in the middle of the room, her sandy blonde hair spread out like a fan on the pillow.

I sit on the edge of the bed and gaze down at her. For the first time, I notice how thick her eyelashes are, like a doll’s.

I briefly wonder what color her eyes are, but I dismiss the thought. I have more important puzzles to solve, questions to ask.

First and foremost, who is she?

At that moment, my gaze falls on the golden chain around her neck. I tug at it and a dove pendant slips out from beneath her robe. I take it between my fingers and wipe off the mud to reveal the shiny turquoise stud.

Is her name Dove? Turquoise? Sparkle?

I frown, realizing that none of those names make sense, unless she’s a celebrity’s daughter, which she very well could be if she’s from a city.

As I rub the pendant, I feel some ridges on the other side. I turn it over and see the letters engraved into the gold.

Grace.

Well, that sounds like a first name, and it must be hers or she wouldn’t be wearing it around her neck.

“Grace,” I say it out loud.

She doesn’t stir.

What? Did I expect her to just snap out of her coma or whatever it is she’s in just because I said her name? Even Sleeping Beauty didn’t have it that easy.

Sleeping Beauty.

Again, my eyes are drawn to her face, and this time to her lips in particular—a plump lower lip and an upper one curved like a bow, parted just enough to give a glimpse of white in between.

Suddenly, the door behind me opens with a creak and I hear panting and the thud of paws.

“Nope. Not kissing her.” I turn to Toby. “This isn’t a fairytale.”

Besides, Grace isn’t a beauty, I think as I turn back to her. Sure, her lashes are thick and her lips are shapely, plus she has a button nose in the middle of her heart-shaped face, but…

I let out a breath.

Fine, she’s a beauty. Nope, still not kissing her.

I look at her robe and pinch the fabric, which feels thin and coarse beneath my fingertips. There doesn’t seem to be anything special about it. It definitely doesn’t seem like something a Pioneer from a city would wear, but then, I’m no fashion expert.

My eyes fall on her right arm. A few scratches, none of them deep. A plum-colored bruise about the size of a baseball on her upper arm.

I check the other arm. More scratches. A nasty scrape on her elbow.

Well, at least she has no broken bones or serious injuries.

Suddenly, something catches my attention and makes my eyebrows crease—impressions around her wrists.

Was she tied up?

I see another impression around her ring finger.

I grab her hand.

She had a ring? Why isn’t she wearing it, then? It doesn’t make sense. She still has her necklace on, so why would her ring be missing?

I look at her legs next, all the way to her bare feet. They’re covered in mud, but even if they weren’t I doubt they could tell me anything.

I pull up my sleeves. I suppose it’s time to start cleaning her up.

I head to the bathroom to get a pail of water. Then I rummage through the closet to find towels and new clothes. I grab a shirt, a pair of black leggings with ankle straps, and a pair of striped socks. I don’t see any underwear. Maybe Nancy doesn’t have any old ones.

I set the pile of clothes on the nightstand. They will have to do.

I stand over the bed. Now for the hard part.

I pull the sash of her robe and it comes off. One of its flaps falls to the side to reveal a bare breast.

I look away.

“I’ll get you for this later, Nancy,” I mutter before I continue.

I try not to stare at her body as I take off the robe and begin washing the mud off her skin with a moist towel, but that proves to be impossible.

She’s got a great body. Smooth skin. Slim waist. Just a bit of a curve over her belly. Firm breasts. Toned thighs.

Inadvertently, my gaze travels up those thighs and rests on the patch of darkened skin roughly in the shape of a lily pad inside her upper left thigh.

Just then, the door opens.

I jump back, ready to spout an explanation for my behavior, but I realize it’s just Toby.

“Jesus,” I mutter. “You scared the hell out of me.”

He looks at me curiously.

“I’m not doing anything, okay?” I tell him defensively. “I’m just cleaning her up like Nancy told me to. Now, get out.”

I shoo him out of the room and close the door more firmly this time. Then I lean on it and let out a sigh of relief before returning to the bed.

Okay. Where was I?

I decide not to pick up where I left off. I just turn her over and wash off more of the mud. Then I use the clean part of the dirty bed sheets to dry her off before putting the new clothes on her.

That, too, proves to be a struggle. I realize that I’m more used to undressing women than dressing them, but I manage to put her limbs into the right holes without putting my fingers into any wrong ones.

When I’m done, I wipe the sweat off my brow and step away from the bed.

Well, that’s one way to start the day.

She looks better now, too. She looks… more human, more alive.

More beautiful.

I dismiss that last thought as I pick up the dirty robe and sheets and walk to the door. I throw one last glance at her before leaving the room.

I sure hope she wakes up soon.