Higher Ground by Becky Black (notion reading list txt) 📗

“I do.”

“You can put your hand back down.”

“That’s it?” he said, frowning, somewhat disappointed.

“What more do you want?”

“I thought it would be a bit more formal.”

“I said ‘hereby,’ didn’t I?”

He smiled. “Yeah, I guess that’s a formal sort of word.”

“Here,” she said, handing something to him. He took it without knowing what it was and then realized, with a start. Her gun. He stared at her.

“What the hell are you giving me this for?”

“Because you might need it when things get ugly. Use it as you see fit. Being a temporary deputy doesn’t mean you can shoot people willy-nilly. But use your judgment.” She stood up. “Looks like we’re ready to move out. See you later, Adam.”

“I hope so, Barb.”

“Good luck.” She left, heading off back to the group putting on their backpacks, preparing to leave, facing the wrong way. Adam stared down at the pistol in his hand. He’d never even held a gun in his life. If pressed, he’d admit to being rather scared of them. It didn’t weigh as much as he expected—not physically anyway. Metaphorically, though, he’d never carried a heavier burden. Had Torres fooled him? Could she only give him the gun once she’d sworn him in as a deputy? So she’d made him swear in first so she could give him this, which he’d certainly have refused otherwise.

He placed it behind him on the rock. Maybe he could walk away from here and “accidentally” forget about it? Would that make him a coward? Less of a man? No. Using a gun to solve problems didn’t make a guy more manly. He’d never been in a situation where a gun would have been solved the problem rather than making it a hundred times worse. The ease of his life so far struck him. The toughest battles he’d fought had been tennis games against his sisters—Lucy could still kick his ass all over the court. Now he had to face this life-and-death scenario. The moment he took the gun, this situation stopped being a pleasant hike in the countryside. Even if Zach turned out to be wrong and the natural disaster never happened, there was the potential for human-created disaster. It had been there all along, but he’d only just seen it.

Is that what Torres meant about things getting ugly? If she expected him to threaten Zach with the gun, she must be a madwoman. Or did she expect him to have to defend Zach with it? He looked over at Zach, arguing with Jones, a big man who got in fights, according to Torres. He wasn’t swinging at Zach, and he was leaving anyway. But as the rest of them went on climbing, people were only going to get more irritable, their tempers more frayed.

Adam couldn’t walk away and accidentally forget the gun. He could feel it behind his back as if it gave off a wave of heat. As if it were radioactive. He picked it up and went to put it into his backpack.

* * * *

Even when he knew it was hopeless, Zach still went on arguing. Only sometime after that did he finally give up and walk back to his tent. It wasn’t there. Adam must have taken it down. Their packs sat there, full and ready to go. Zach sat down, facing away from the group, not wanting to see it happen.

Footfalls behind him that he’d learned to recognize told him Adam was coming. He spoke before Adam reached him.

“How many?”

“About half.”

Zach closed his eyes and bent his head. Less than he’d feared. More than he’d feared. Adam flopped down on the grass beside him and passed him the apple Zach hadn’t eaten earlier. “Finish your breakfast.”

Zach started as if Adam had handed him a grenade.

“You have to keep up your strength. It’s a good variety. Grows well here. Three crops a year.”

“Not anymore.”

“We’ll grow them elsewhere.”

Zach smiled, liking the optimism. Yes. They had a whole planet here. He took out his utility knife and sliced the apple in two. He gave half back to Adam. It was sweet, golden skinned, and beautiful. One of the last of its kind, Zach thought as he ate his piece. Even if they grew them elsewhere, he knew different soils made for different results. He was eating one of the last of the Zahara apples.

He finished it in a few bites and tossed away the core. The seeds would never have the chance to take root in the soil here. They’d wash off the face of the world, perhaps in hours, perhaps in days. He waited while Adam finished his half of the apple. When he did, Zach leaned in and kissed him hard.

He caught Adam by surprise, and they bumped noses accidentally before finding the right angle. Zach tasted the fresh, sweet apple juice on Adam’s lips and tongue. He’d always had a sweet tooth. Adam both tempted and satisfied it.

Should he say the words when they parted? Tell Adam what he felt? That he loved him. No. Too soon. Adam preferred to move slowly—even in a situation like this, when slow might mean never. It could scare him off or make him withdraw. If they survived this, Zach would say it when they were safe. If they didn’t… He’d say it before the end. At least he’d die before the bloom faded. He’d die while still in love. Some would call that romantic. He only thought it rather a sad waste.

The apple-juice-flavored kiss ended. This time, Adam got in first.

“Thank you,” he said with a delightful teasing grin Zach wanted to kiss all over again. But they had no time. Daylight was burning, and Dr. Howie had been right; the climb was about to get harder, the slope steeper. He stood up and turned to look at his reduced tribe.

They were ready to move out. Most were finishing packing their rucksacks or rounding up the kids and animals. Korrie walked up to Zach and Adam, pack on her