Escape, a New Life by David Antocci Page A

awake, surrounded by darkness, except for the diminishing glow of the fire.  After a long wait, he broke the silence.  “Can I ask you something?”
    She opened her eyes and looked up at him. “What is it?”
    “Where did you learn to be such a bad ass?”
    She laughed and put her hand on his chest.
    “Seriously, you were something else back there.  I didn’t even know what was happening.  You took them all down and had us running in about thirty seconds flat!”
    She laughed harder. “I don’t even know.”  After a pause, she said, “I don’t seem to recognize myself since I’ve been here.”  Abby thought about that as she lay in bed next to Eric.  Her small body took up very little space next to him.  The only sounds were their breathing and the occasional crack of the embers in the fire. 
    She had never been a confident person, and certainly never physical.  Not physical like what had happened back at the fire anyway.  She had always been more of a follower; one to keep her head down in tough situations and let people push her around.
    Maybe she was tired of getting pushed around; tired of having her life lived for her.  Tired of an endless parade of the wrong people.  She wondered if maybe something finally clicked back on the beach when she decided to get her life in order.  Apparently she was done with that and was on her way to discovering her inner fighter.  She smiled as she started drifting off.  Whatever this place is , she thought, I have a feeling that my life will never be the same .

6
     
    ABBY HAD SLEPT like the dead, but her stomach woke her in the morning. She stretched and opened her eyes to the smell of food, and to her surprise, coffee.  Sitting up, she tried to remember the last time that she ate.  Climbing out of bed and looking around, she realized she was alone.  She walked over to the fire to check the steaming cast iron pot that was hanging on the hook next to it. 
    It was some sort of stew of meat, potatoes and carrots.  That will do, she thought, and scooped herself a bowl, sat down, and just about licked it clean in three minutes flat.  Sitting back, she was entirely full.  She thought that she should have a bigger appetite, given that it had been awhile since she had anything to eat.  Her stomach was not used to having food in it though, so she figured she would take it slow.
    She found the source of the inviting aroma calling to her.  Staying warm on a flat rock next to the fire was a well-worn metal, percolator-style coffee pot.  She remembered her grandfather used one of these on their camping trips when she was a girl.  The coffee grounds sat in a basket at the top, the pot resting over the fire until the water boiled and perked up through a tube and back down through the grounds.  She remembered thinking that the device was very clever when she was young, being able to make coffee without electricity.  She also remembered that it made a strong cup of coffee, or maybe that was just how her grandfather liked it.  He used to say that he learned to like coffee when he was in the Navy.  He told her that they had two uses for coffee on the heavy cruiser that he had served on: to wake up in the morning, and to strip paint off the side of the ship. 
    She poured herself a cup of very black, and what smelled like very strong, coffee.  Looking around to find some milk, cream, or sugar, she finally remembered where she was.  Straight up black would have to do.
    Venturing outside she found Eric sitting on a large stone and taking in the view.  The tree line began ju st far enough down that they could see the blue ocean in the distance.  It was gorgeous. 
    He gave her a big smile , dimples and all. “Mornin’.”
    “ Good morning indeed,” she said. 
    He held up his coffee . “Not bad, huh?”
    She smiled . “I’ll take it.”
    “How’d you like the rabbit?”
    She nearly choked on her coffee . “Rabbit?  That was rabbit?”
    He was laughing .