Chapter 5

Stepping into the shack was like stepping through a time portal. Relics of a time when people were free, and the world made some sense abounded. A couch, boxy and outdated, sat coated in filth under a large window on the back wall. A lamp, finely made with iron-style lace and ornate stained glass fought to be noticed beneath a coating of cobwebs. Altogether, the house was only big enough for three rooms. A kitchen, one great room, and a small bedroom that protruded off the back like an afterthought. The door to it stood wide open, revealing a twin-sized mattress on the floor and a massive array of boxes lining the back wall. To my left was a wooden ladder that led to a loft space just big enough for a person to lay flat in.

No need for a tour; I barely needed to turn my head to see it all.  A kerosene lantern illuminated a round wooden table dead center of the kitchen, but whatever burned inside the glass wasn't kerosene. I paused; eyes narrowed at the neon green sludge resting in the bottom. "What's in that lantern?" I walked toward it, already knowing the answer. I knew nothing about the chemical they'd pumped into me every day for the past few months, but I knew that this was it. I knew every face I'd watched wither and fade away. I knew how long each woman lasted; whether she'd cried and begged or sat stoic and resigned. I'd known it was toxic. I'd known it was deadly, but flammable? The flame was brighter than average, a slight lilac hue to its edges. They'd injected that into us. Into human beings. What I really wanted to know was where the hell this man got it from, and how he'd discovered it would burn.

He motioned toward the light. "That's sludge," he said. "Sludge makes fire. Croc provides that."

Julia laughed beneath her breath. She was bent down a few feet behind me, rummaging through the bags in search of food for the children.

Croc held his beard, pulling it in a way that made me think it was a nervous habit.

"I've had enough sludge. Thank you."

For a long moment, our gazes held. His eyes were intense, shimmering around the edges with the same neon green, probably a reflection.

He tilted his head, watching me study him, then gently pulled a chair from the table. "Croc provides food."

I opened my mouth to decline.

Julia interjected. "I have something for the kids to eat. They're exhausted. Would you mind if I laid them down somewhere?"

He jolted like an eager dog trying to earn a treat. "Croc has bed."

Julia leaned back and winked at me as he gently took her arm and led her toward the open doorway. I followed at a distance.

The bedroom was carpeted at least, though what color it was meant to be was uncertain. Julia took the top two blankets off the twin mattress and popped them into the air, forming a cloud of dust that made Eric sneeze.

Croc jumped at the sound, then stared down at the boy with wide eyes. Before I could think to be worried, he dropped down onto his knees, leveling himself with the child.

Julia spread the blankets back over the mattress.

Eric stayed with him, looking back with matching curiosity. Child-like, both of them. But Croc wasn't a child, and when he lifted his massive hand and touched the downy brown curls, I took an instinctive step forward.

"It's fine, Willow," Julia said, still focused on her task.

I chewed my lip and watched as Eve stepped closer as well. Neither of them had looked at me like that when I'd found them hidden among the filth. Neither had seemed so relaxed, not even in the car after we made it away. What was it about this place, this man, that put them so at ease? A part of me wanted to scoop them up and keep running until we reached the end of the world. Another part wanted to join in, allow myself a blissful reprieve from warranted fear and constant survival. The privilege of naivety, of blind faith. I couldn't remember the last time I'd experienced something so valuable.

Croc smoothed the hair between his fingers, marveled at the texture, then let go and grasped Eric's hand, pulling the tiny fingers up to study one by one. "Small," he whispered.

My brows lifted as Eric reached his free hand up and tangled it into the man's matted locks.

Julia finished her task but didn't move from her place on the floor. She watched the two, lips softly curved.

Eve stepped closer and followed her brother's lead. She took a different clump of the wild man's hair and pulled it toward her until they looked like two children at a petting zoo.

A wide smile broke across Croc's face, giving a glimpse of surprisingly white teeth.

"Alright, kids. Come and eat what Papa Merle packed for you."

I inwardly flinched at his name, but Julia was too busy opening wrappers and cans to notice.

Eve released his hair and moved toward the mattress, but Eric lingered. He stared into Croc's eyes, the same way he'd done mine when I collapsed in the road. "Safe?" he asked, the -f a little too pronounced.

Croc stiffened, and his attention centered and ran over the little boy's face, the downy hair, his chubby arms, as if checking for injuries. "Croc protect." His tone was deeper than before. "Croc is strong."

Eric smiled and lunged forward, wrapping his tiny arms around Croc's neck and burrowing his face into his hair.

My vision swam, eyes burned, and I turned away, blinking rapidly as I made an escape. Too afraid to go outside, I ended up in the kitchen and sat in the chair he'd pulled out for me. It wasn't right. How fucked was the world when this was the answer? How messed up was it that two small kids would find comfort in a situation that should have been traumatizing? Normal was dead. It wasn't going to come back. They'd never know it. I'd never have it again.

Julia stepped into the room, and I heard the front door open and shut a second later.

"Are you sure we're safe here?"

She pursed her lips. "So far so good." She took the chair beside mine.

I leaned closer, my mind battling between what I'd just witnessed and the frequent mention of my fertility.  "I don't know." I glanced toward the opening. "Where did he go?"

"To provide us food." She snickered. "You need to look on the bright side. We found shelter. We found food. There's a person who has managed to survive out here." She took my hand in hers and squeezed. "We're free. We're alive. We're safe. That's a lot more than the rest will get."

I flinched. It was more than Merle might get, and I was an asshole for forgetting. She was right. It could be worse. We could have been rounded up like the countless others and sent to die. I sucked in a deep breath and focused on the fact I was still able to. "You're right. Okay."

The front door opened and closed again, and Croc flopped three giant fish onto the tabletop.

"What the fuck!" I jerked away, so hard my back cracked. Fish. Not fillets or chunks. Whole fish, so big their tails hung off the edge. They gasped for air, snarling at us with hundreds of tiny sharp fangs. I pulled my hands inward; curled my fingers. "What the fuck is that?"

Croc tilted his head. "Fish." He sat on the other side of Julia, across from me, then seeming to have read my mood, focused more on her. "Food." He motioned at the wiggling, not-dead fish.

Even Julia couldn't manage to hide her reluctance. "It's food, Willow."

Croc beamed then looked at me expectantly. "Croc catches the biggest fish. Never small ones." He stared, eyes roaming my face, my hair.

"Yeah! Croc catches big fish. Some fish bigger than me!" Gator called from somewhere outside, and the sound drifted in through the opened window behind us.

Croc nodded and dipped his chin toward the flopping creatures.

"I don't eat fish," I lied. I did eat fish, just not those fish, not live fish, and never a fish that could eat me back.

Thankfully, Julia had the same opinion. "We were thinking, you've provided so much already, how about you let us provide the food."

She stood, ever the diplomat, and left the room only to return a moment later with one of the duffle bags.

Croc's face fell, but his curiosity over what she had seemed to outweigh his need to be the dominant-alpha-whatever.

Julia eyed the table. "Perhaps we can put the fish back and eat them later."

He stared at them a moment then nodded, gathering them back up and moving straight for the door.

Julia snorted as soon as he'd gone. "That was interesting."

"Have you ever even seen a fish like that?" I asked.

"No. But I've never seen a talking alligator either, so I'm rolling with it." She grabbed an old towel from a pile of junk in the corner, used it to wipe off the table, then pulled some of the food from the duffle bag.

Protein bars, canned wieners, saltine crackers, and...

"You brought the Jelly foods?"

She grimaced. "Merle made me. He said I wouldn't have my garden right away, and I'd just need to suck it up."

Croc returned and dropped back into his seat, studying everything Julia had set out as if it were a puzzle.

"Here," Julia said, opening a can of sausages and a pack of crackers.

He looked at it how I'd looked at the fish.

"What animal?" He pulled one of the wieners out and jiggled it. His eyes widened in horror. "What part?"

Julia cackled, loud and hoarse, and despite the situation, I couldn't help but join her.

Croc shifted uncomfortably.

"Don't worry, boy," Julia said, forcing her laughter to fade. "If I'd been hunting for those, they'd be a hell of a lot bigger than that."

I choked and spluttered, then fell into a coughing fit.

"Water," Croc said, retrieving a large bottle from the counter behind him and two glasses from the cabinet. The glasses were old, straight from another era. He poured a portion into each one, then sat back and fixed his eyes on me.

I took a deep drink, grateful to find it clean and not the green murk outside. My coughing slowed, then ceased. I hadn't realized how parched I was until the moisture hit my tongue, and the moment it did, I chugged the glass empty.

Croc smiled and lifted back up to refill it as if he'd found the answer to all the world's problems. "Croc provides."

My brow furrowed as I looked from him then back to Julia.

Her eyes danced. "He provides."

"I'm happy your enjoying yourself," I grumbled, not caring that the wild man could hear me. "Must be easy to be so relaxed when you're not the one trying to be impregnated."

"You're called Willow," Croc said, either not caring about what I'd just said or unaware of any type of social cue. I was betting on both.

I ate a few of the crackers, avoiding having to answer, or acknowledge, or have any interaction with my new jungle Danny. Eventually, however, when Julia cleared her throat louder than Merle's engine, I looked up at him. "Yes."

"You have hair the color of mud, and your eyes look like swamp sludge."

My jaw clenched. Well, then. That was nice. "Thanks." The word came out flat.

Julia snorted.

"Croc likes the mud and the sludge."

"That's very sweet, Croc," Julia said, laughter clear in the undertone of her voice.

My mouth fell open.

Croc beamed. "We can make babies, now?"

"No." Julia gave him a stern look.

Croc's smile fell. "But you said—"

"You can't make babies unless Willow wants to. That's how it works."

His face whipped in my direction, and his mouth opened around the words.

"No," I said.

His lips pursed. "Why? Croc has shelter. Croc has water." He picked up the sausage and wiggled it. "Croc has–"

"Nope!" I covered my ears and looked at Julia in exasperation.

She laughed. "I don't doubt it."

"You're not helping!"

"Doesn't seem like I need to." She laughed again.

He motioned to my half-full glass as if it were all the answer needed. "Croc can provide for other babies, too."

I bit back a snide remark. He was like a child. How long had he been out here? It was as if he were one of those people who had been left to go feral. But he wasn't feral. He could speak well enough. He didn't maneuver like he'd been raised by the talking gator outside.

"I don't know you."

"I'm Croc."

I groaned. "Yes. I know. But I don't know you, and I don't want children." I paused for emphasis. "Ever."

His expression fell. "You have two."

"I didn't make those." I pointed toward the room where we'd left them. "And I don't plan to make any." Another pause. "Ever."

Croc mulled over my words for a moment, digesting them, his gaze shifting from the open doorway and back again more than once. "Never?"

"Never-ever-ever-ever-ever." I pushed my chair back and crossed my legs to drive the point home.

Croc turned forlorn eyes onto Julia.

She laughed. "Don't look at me. My baby maker stopped working over two decades ago."

The atmosphere around the table fell silent for one breath, then two, then another as seconds turned to minutes and the tension grew.

Julia was the one to finally ask the crucial question. "Would you like for us to leave?"

"No." It was instant and rough. His entire body tensed. His eyes widened. "Please," he said. "Croc won't make babies. Croc will provide." He grabbed the water and hurried to refill both our glasses. "Don't go." He sat back down. "Croc will even—" he paused and grimaced at the sausages "—Croc will eat the..." His Adam's apple bobbed.

Julia snorted and gripped his hand. "Calm, boy. It's alright. We won't leave."

My mouth parted on a breath. He didn't want a deal. He didn't require... My eyes lingered across the table, mind spinning. I still didn't want to agree with Julia, but with little options and his reaction, I couldn't help but nod. "We won't leave." I chewed the inside of my cheek. "Not now, anyway."

His shoulders fell. "Croc likes you here." He glanced up at me, then over to Julia. "Croc doesn't want to be alone."