Juice runs down my chin as I take another bite of the peach, my mouth full of the delicious sweet flesh. The abandoned yard I occupy contains a trio of fruit trees: two peach, one plum. Ripening fruit hangs from all of them. The Halsteads moved out, like so many others who felt that my leadership wasn't up to par, and perhaps they are right. The Pelex option is tempting for many, although not for me. Even if there was any chance I could jump ship and join Denton's happy family, I just don't think I could bring myself to do it. Pride, the seventh of the Deadly Sins--I'm collecting the entire set.

The recent exodus has left many empty properties, some are useful, such as this one with it's fruit trees, large garden and solar pool panels. Others not so much. Our influx of local immigrants seeking freedom from Pelex (or some twisted form of glory) has also died down since joining our merry band not only prohibits your visits to town, but almost certainly paints a large bullseye on your back at the same time. The Sons of Gabriel for certain would love to deliver some pay back. Eye for an eye and all that.

"Can I go now?" Heath whines. He's up to his waist in garden foliage, sweaty, dirty and entirely fed up with his chores. His hair is messy, sun-bleached and long. I've been remiss in the hair care department of late.

"I'll take a look," I say walking over to inspect his work. "You missed a weed there," I point out. He quickly uproots it with his hoe and looks back at my expectantly.

"You get a whole basket of beans?"

"Yes, and tomatoes and onions and the things mommy likes."

"Those are beets," I tell him again. His face turns sad momentarily and I can tell he's thinking about his mother. We can't see Kate and they won't release her from hospital, the official word is that she's in therapy or rehab for her head trauma, but Sabine, despite having been disciplined and removed from that floor, has still been able to relay information that Kate is well and ready to leave. From what I can tell, for all intents and purposes, she's now a hostage. It's not something I can fix right now, I've talked it over with Ari, Jake and Hartt and they all think I should sit tight on this for now. Easier said than done.

"Okay buddy, you can go, but stay in a group and Sung-Mi is in charge, you listen to her."

"Woohoo! Movie night!" he yells, bouncing out of the garden and sprinting out of sight in a flash. "He likely didn't hear a single word after 'go'".

Under Sung-Mi's watchful eye, Heath, Peter and Miriam will spend the best part of the day searching high and low for gasoline or propane. If they can scrounge up enough to run a small inverter generator for a couple hours after sundown we will have movie night. We'll hang a big, white linen on the side of Jake's house and use the DLP projector we found in one of the abandoned houses to throw an impromptu viewing of some movie the kids pick out. At the same time we'll have a nice neighbourhood picnic.

Tonight should be especially good since Heather took Freya on a three-day hunt to give her some time away from everyone. Freya had pretty much cut herself off from all of us after the incident with the Sons of Gabriel. Even Raven was keeping his distance. It quickly became clear that none of us guys had the right stuff to deal with the delicate situation, so Heather stepped up, marched over, put a bow in Freya's hand and a pack on her back and hiked off into the surrounding fields.

It was an interesting few days watching Raven and Jake do their best to conceal their concern with exaggerated bravado. We also took the opportunity to make a final push to finish our perimeter fence and it kept all of us busy. The project stalled out when we lost most of our labour force and now, more than ever, we need the extra security. Two solid days of back-breaking, hand-blistering, sweltering work produced significant results. All the posts were sunk and rails knocked up, we made good progress on the paneling, but still had a fair bit left to do. We moved a couple backyard playsets and turned them into observation posts tacking up another level with spare lumber. From the top we could see well out across the surrounding fields and could easily monitor the roadways adjacent to the neighbourhood.

Freya returned late yesterday, healthy and in a much better state emotionally, which made us all feel better, especially Raven. She also returned a successful huntress and as Heather put it so eloquently, was a "far better archer than Connor", a comment which prompted me to encourage Freya to just keep my pink accented compound bow. She gracefully declined, but relented after I insisted. I'm fairly certain I can find another bow to be a crappy archer with.

The ladies shamed us further by butchering their kill without the help of any of us men. We didn't complain much though as we knew we'd be getting some fine barbecue in the end.

But now the ladies are kicking back, lounging in shorts and bikini tops, letting the men cook their kill. A large wild boar trussed up on a spit is being turned slowly by Raven as Jake rakes the coals to try to keep the heat even. Fat drips into the hot coals flaring up now and again and a delicious smokey scent fills the entire neighbourhood.

"I only caught the Cliff's Notes version of your hunt," I say to Freya. "Care to elaborate? I mean, I can see, and smell the result, but from what I gather it was quite the experience."

"It was! I always thought about hunting from the perspective of someone who has never gone out and got their own food before. I thought it was just killing, only a bloodsport, you know?"

"Yeah, I don't think that's an uncommon point-of-view," I reply.

"Heather practically dragged me for a while that first morning. I definitely was not interested in going."

"You were a complete bitch for like three hours," Heather adds from her chaise.

"Closer to four," Freya replies and they both laugh. "I was wallowing. But the whole time Heather is talking about how the outdoors opens your mind and calms your soul. Fresh air and being one with nature and all that and I wasn't really getting it. Yet, Heather just kept moving, across fields, through ditches and woodlots. My legs got tired, my feet were soaked and I had burrs in my hair and I wanted to turn around and go home."

"But you didn't," I say.

"Nope. Heather said 'turn around any time you want, go home, I won't stop you but I think you'll regret it' and I guess I knew she was right, so I kept going. Staying home wasn't helping me, I knew that much, I just didn't know what to do.

"We get to this woodlot and I had fallen behind a ways, when I catch up to Heather she's standing stone-still, like a statue, just listening. I do the same thing, but I have no idea what I am listening to or for. I hear so many sounds, so many I never realized were there because I've never stopped to listen like that. It's like you're hearing the sound of life."

"What did you hear?" I ask Heather.

"She's got ears like a submarine sonar," Jake adds. "She's always hearing shit that I don't. Too many years of shooting guns, my ears suck. Can't hear for shit."

Heather takes a sip from her glass, "I heard something, thought it might be a deer that we might have spooked from it's bedding area. I didn't see anything though and it was so brief I wasn't sure what direction it came from."

"But then, she moves off real slow," Freya continues. "And I think we're on the trail of something and suddenly my heart is pumping and I've totally forgotten about everything and I'm just there in the moment. We go like that for what seems like half-an-hour, I have no idea how long it was, but then Heather just starts moving normal again. She doesn't say a word to me, but I don't mind because I'm starting to get it and I'm seeing and hearing all this stuff that I didn't much notice before. Like a door is opening up revealing this other world."

"Good afternoon folks," Mark Hennemann calls out as he arrives in Jake's back yard. He's pulling a wheeled cooler, the kind that is like a 12-volt mini-fridge. "Cold beer anyone?"

"Hell yes!" I say. "Grab a seat, Freya is just telling us about her first hunt."

"Ah, splendid, I love a good tale of the hunt," Mark says pulling up a chair.

"Don't mind us, we're just cooking all your food," Raven calls over from the fire pit.

"Not so fast," I reply. "I took care of all the side dishes. Young buck like you needs his fruit and veggies. But since you're over there, make sure my potatoes aren't burning."

Raven gives me the bird and goes back to chatting with Jake. The two of them were forced to bond a bit with both their ladies gone and I think it's been good for both of them. Probably good for all of us, as we need to function more like a unit and less like a bunch of individuals. Or so Hartt has informed me.

"Please, continue," I say to Freya who is just sitting back down after refilling her glass of sangria.

"Well, not much else happened the first day, we made it to camp, you know those little A-frame huts in the park. It's all overgrown, vines everywhere, if you didn't know where they were you'd never find them. Heather said it was a good time to stop while there was still plenty of light out. We had to do a tick-check, gather fire wood and get a fire going. Then we had a good long talk."

"And a good long cry," Heather added. "Both of us."

"After that, I was spent, completely exhausted. That night I sleep, I swear, like I have never slept before. It was a great sleep. Then up before dawn, a quick hot breakfast and back to the hunt.

"Heather quickly picked up a deer trail and we followed it until we found a good spot to use as a hide and then we waited. We waited for a couple hours before a doe wandered by, I got a bit too excited and drew my bow. Heather had to whisper that I didn't have a good shot and I tried to hold as long as I could, but I had to let the bow down and the movement spooked the doe. She was gone. They are so quiet."

"You can hold at full draw longer than Connor," Heather quips.

"Burn." Jake adds from the peanut gallery.

"I'm getting another beer," I reply, sorely lacking a decent retort. The ladies grant themselves a little giggle at my expense.

"Anyway," Freya continues. "The rest of that day was much the same, saw a few wild turkeys, walked on the beach. Heather figured we would try another spot around dusk."

"I really expected to see more deer, we never saw anyone else in there, but I did get the creepy feeling that we were being watched."

"Me too!" Freya says, "Why didn't you say anything?"

"Well, I didn't want to freak you out and I thought I was just being overly paranoid."

"I definitely think someone else was out there with us. I didn't sleep nearly as well the second night because of that."

"Same."

"That would explain why we were both pretty bitchy that third morning."

"It would," Heather replied.

"We just packed up without saying much to each other and started plodding out of the park, outside the park we took a detour down an old dirt road. We saw a group of people from a distance so we laid low for a bit until they were out of sight. We didn't get much farther before those thunderstorms swept through."

"So then, we're bitchy, tired, wet and haven't had any luck with the hunt," Heather says. "By this time I'm thinking I've totally fucked this whole thing up and I'm just wasting Freya's time. And although Jake had warned against walking along the roads, I just wanted to get back so we stayed on the roads and worked our way back."

"Until..." Freya adds with emphasis.

"Tell it," Heather encourages.

"Until I see something run across the road when Heather was tying her boot. A whole bunch of somethings actually. We get out the binoculars and see this group of pigs."

"Feral pigs," Heather clarifies.

"What do you call a group of pigs? Flock doesn't sound right," I ask.

"A sounder," Mark answers, ever the educator.

"So we start stalking this sounder, which Heather says usually aren't active this time of day, but they are on the move. We try to stay down wind and work parallel to them trying to anticipate where we can hide and intercept them. This goes on all day and as the Sun goes down the lighting is making it hard to spot them. We start moving closer in a bit of a panic as we think they're all gonna just disappear and we'll have nothing at all to show for our hunt.

"My heart's racing again, from both the excitement and trying to keep pace with the pigs. We get within about sixty meters, as they are rooting about at the edge of a field near a woodlot. I tell Heather she should take the shot, there's no way I can hit them from where we are. She tells me to nock an arrow and she does the same. She insists I take the first shot.

"Just as I draw, this giant boar explodes from the woodlot not 20 meters from us and without missing a beat Heather says "take it" and I just aim and shoot. Then there's pigs running everywhere, squealing and this boar goes crashing back into the woodlot and disappears and I'm just stunned."

"Her mouth was wide open, her eyes as big as plates," Heather adds.

"It was a-maz-ing. I didn't even know if I hit it, I mean, I was sure I did, but I didn't know. You know what I mean?"

"I do know what you mean," I reply, but the first time I had that feeling I had shot a man, not a wild pig. I still get that feeling, far to often.

"So then we track it through the woods a bit and after a few minutes find it dead on the forest floor. Heather teaches me how to field dress it right there in the leaf litter and we roll the carcass onto our little sled and start dragging the meat home.

"We do have Jake and Hartt to thank, once Heather radioed in they came out to meet us and hauled it home for us, and after we butchered it they got the cooking process going and let us crash. Where is Trevor anyway?"

"He had first shift with the smoker, so he was up late," Jake answers. I think he's still sleeping, otherwise we would have seen him by now."

"I'm sure he'll show up when the food is ready," I say. "He always does."

"Got a nose like a bloodhound," Jake replies, slicing off a chunk of flesh and tasting it with a nod.

"And a hollow leg," I add.

I key my radio and check-in with Sung-Mi, from all the boisterous hooting and hollering in the background, I can tell they have already found enough fuel to go ahead with movie night.

"Any problems?" I ask.

"The kids have been angels," she replies, but I'm not sure how truthful that answer is. "Ran into a couple other scavengers, but they gave us a wide berth."

This is no surprise to me and seems like a wise choice on the part of the other party. Sung-Mi was a signaller in the forces, she took care of communications gear are whatever relates to that specialty. However, she's an electrical engineer by trade and an excellent one at that. Hartt warned me not to be fooled by her brains though, as she apparently never qualified below marksmen in her personal weapons tests.

She's not fooling around when she escorts the kids on their little forays outside the walls of our tiny village. Even in this heat she leaves fully kitted up, body armour--plates and all, helmet and carbine. All business. I'd give her a wide berth too.

"See you in a bit," I radio back. "Food should be ready to serve in about thirty minutes."

******

After sundown we cue up the movie, people kick back on lawn chairs and blankets. The movie is your typical animated affair, as chosen by the kids. They worked hard and scored plenty of gas to run the generator for more than the couple hours needed to play the movie. There's a fire still burning and the kids are all jacked up on S'Mores. Most of the adults have been drinking, so they are laughing as much as the kids at the the appropriate (or mildly inappropriate) parts.

Ari is on one of the blankets, playing grandpa and wrestling with all three kids at once. Hartt woke up in time for dinner as expected and is now cuddled up with Sabine in a freestanding hammock.

Sung-Mi occupies the chair next to me. She's changed out of her fatigues and armour into shorts and a t-shirt. Her pin-straight, jet-black hair is pulled back into a neat pony-tail. My eyes linger on her probably a few moments longer than they should, I've had too many beers and I should know better.

"I'm going to go relieve one of the watch towers," I lean over and tell her.

She nods and rises from her seat, "I'll check on the other one."

"You've done enough today, relax. Enjoy the movie, have a drink."

"Nah, I can only drink so much sangria," she says as she slings her carbine over her shoulder.

"Have it your way," I reply. My sling snags on the armrest of the lawn chair and topples the thing over as I try to pick-up my weapon.

"Smooth," Sung-Mi says with a chortle. "Maybe I should just walk you home and tuck you in."

I look over but she is silhouetted by the movie screen and I can't make out her face, but I feel mine flush in response to the perceived pass. She must be a dozen years my junior and maybe I'm misinterpreting things so I try to brush it off.

"I'll take the north-east tower," I say, changing topics.

Not fifty paces from Jake's backyard, we're enveloped in complete darkness. It's a moonless night and mostly cloudy, a few stars shine down between breaks in the clouds. Sung-Mi lights our path with a red-tinted flashlight. The light reflected back off the dark pavement is just barely enough to see each others' faces. When I look over she's looking right back at me, whether it's the lighting or the beer, her usual pleasantly appealing features are amplified ten-fold. I look back at the pavement.

My mind races, desperate to come up with an innocuous topic for discussion to defuse my current predicament. As we continue I can fell her walking closer and closer still. After a minute we're practically on top of each other. As my arm swings it brushes hers. I know I should adjust my path, veer off a little to create a little extra space. But I don't.

Her hand catches mine and our fingers interlace. I stop dead in my tracks and turn, "I--"

Her free hand is instantly around my neck and her mouth is on mine, then her tongue is in my mouth and mine is in hers. There's a car crash in my head, the things I want occupy one car, who I think I'm supposed to be is driving the other. Glass shatters, metal crunches, broken bodies fly every which way. Decorum is dead on the highway and fidelity is quickly bleeding out in the passenger seat.

We devour each other with a savage, wordless passion punctuated by gasps and grunts before tumbling to the tall grass-covered ground of the boulevard. She rips off my shirt and I return the gesture. Next go the shorts. My hands explore her taut body, pausing on her small, firm breasts. She lets out a soft moan as my mouth closes around one of her hardened nipples.

She rolls me to my back and mounts me. In the abyssal blackness all the sensations are tactile and auditory accentuated by the smell of wet grass and dianthus. She writhes and grinds with reckless abandon until I can hold out no longer and I pull her down tight to me as we share the body quaking spasms of climax.