Exchange Rate by Bonnie R. Paulson

law-keepers around, but with John as the leader of our group, if he acknowledged the joining and Bodey and I believed in the ceremony, there was nothing and nobody to say we weren’t married.
    We’d gotten married on my birthday. The best present to myself I couldn’t have planned better.
    My husband. Maybe I wouldn’t feel so lonely anymore.
    ~~~
    J ohn walked ahead of us a few feet, his head bent. Our campsite wasn’t far away and he’d offered to lead the way, jokingly suggesting that he could pretend to be a chauffeur to our walk. We’d laughed.
    I tossed my bouquet behind Bodey and me. No one would catch the carefully prepared flowers, but I could pretend. We giggled.
    “I can’t believe we’re married.” I couldn’t. Married. I was nineteen. I’d always planned on college at nineteen, not married. At least I wasn’t pregnant, too. But I wasn’t even concerned that I could get pregnant. With little enough fat on my body to produce a period for over a year, it just didn’t seem feasible that my body would allow me to create another thing to feed.
    Stopping abruptly, John motioned for us to stop. He held his finger to his lips. Pointing toward the sky, John directed our attention toward a plume of black and gray smoke drifting peacefully into the air. The fire wasn’t far ahead of us. In fact, if I was any good at judging distances, I would say it was roughly the distance to our camp.
    Our smiles faded and dread stiffened our muscles. John shook his head and pointed toward a grouping of bushes and trees for us to hide in. He always made us hide, never letting us help. He had to know he wasn’t invincible, right?
    Bodey grasped my arm and shoved me toward the spot. He wasn’t rough, just worried. Tucking me between the branches and trunks, he turned, joining his dad who glared at his arrival. Bodey shrugged. I loved that he wouldn’t let his dad go alone.
    They disappeared down the trail, not giving me a second look. I waited, counting to twenty before slipping back onto the trail and following them. What if something happened and I wasn’t there to help or I missed everything and I waited in those dang bushes forever? I’d be hanged before I’d allow myself to be a widow after only a few minutes.
    I pulled my fanny pack from my shoulder where I’d slung the strap like a purse. Clipping the pack around my waist, I squeezed my mom’s Bible from the canvas exterior. I’d given John my guns so long ago and only carried a knife. We had very little ammunition and he’d been carrying for the wedding, confident we wouldn’t need anything for the small amount of time necessary for the ceremony.
    Nothing was worse than when John was wrong.
    I came upon our camp site faster than I thought I would.
    Hazy smoke drifted through the trees and lent a faded look to the surrounding scenery. The closer I got to the site, the thicker the haze became. And suddenly there it was.
    The dying fire licked at the remains of blankets, backpacks, canteens, and clothing. Everything we’d saved and carefully collected for almost a year and a half blew away in the wind or sifted to the ground as ash.
    Stumbling past the tree line in disbelief, I thrust my jaw to the side, breathless. Could we save anything? Had everything been destroyed? I shoved my knuckles against my teeth, certain if I didn’t plug my mouth, a keening undertone would turn into a shriek and end the peaceful quiet of worlds burning.
    Bodey pulled me against his chest and I welcomed the dark, trying to unsee the damage to our makeshift home in my mind’s eye. But devastation branded itself on my memory. All I had left of anything was in my fanny pack and it wasn’t much.
    Bodey and John had even less.
    We’d left everything.
    And returned with nothing but each other.
    John didn’t waste time. He searched the site for anything salvageable, turning over metal racks with sticks to avoid getting burned and kicked over rocks. Shaking his head, he pointed back