False Dawn by Chelsea Quinn Yarbro

long way to Gold Lake, hut we could make it, together. Will come with me, Thea? Travel with me? That’s all I ask of you, that we travel together.”
    “But why?” Much of her fright had faded, and now she felt foolish and abashed. Never in her years alone had she been so utterly frightened. And never in her years alone had she felt the need for companionship as keenly as she did in that moment. She could not bear to he touched; she did not bear to be alone.
    So lost in her thoughts was Thea that she did not see the cold agony that came into Evan’s face at her question. “I was wrong about the Pirates, about survival. I was wrong about so many things. I can’t apologize for them; I can’t atone. But I can do something worthwhile for once. Don’t make me abandon you, Thea.”
    She said nothing as he spoke. The brook was shiny where the moonlight touched it. “Once there were crickets up here, and they chirped,” she said idly, hardly aware that she had spoken aloud.
    “Crickets?” he asked, stung that she had not heard him.
    “There were crickets at Camminsky Creek. I remember them, sometimes. It was a long time ago. Mr. Thompson and his genetic engineering. He thought that was the answer; they all did. But they were playing, that’s all. Playing. Most of them died of it.”
    “Camminsky Creek?” Evan was bewildered.
    “It was in Mendocino County. Near Cloverdale.”
    Evan knew about Cloverdale—it was the first town completely destroyed by the Pirates, more than five years before he had taken them over. When he first joined the Pirates, their success at Cloverdale gave him the incentive to establish a pattern for less bloody and more efficient raids. He had, as he had admitted to her, seen the potential for an organization that could keep order, and had learned that he had been mistaken. “I see.”
    “No. Not you. You didn’t kill them. The C. D. did, before the Pirates came. It’s more than ten years now.” She shook her head as if clearing the past from it. Holding her breath she turned to face him, and found that her terror was gone. “I’ll travel with you, Evan. Until we get to Gold Lake.”
    He dared to smile at her words. “Good. But let’s stay here a couple of days. It’s a long walk, and we’ll have to go around, through Quincy.”
    She frowned, and the tickle of distrust was back. “Quincy? Why so far north?”
    “To go around the lepers. We’ll have to do that. They’ll kill us if we get too close.”
    “Because we aren’t lepers, you mean,” she said, knowing the answer. “Quincy then. But fall is coming early. We’ll have to travel quickly if we want to get to Gold Lake before the first snows.”
    Evan nodded, unable to express his relief. The tension which had held him so long left him and he toppled clumsily from his cramped position, twisting one of his ankles as he lurched forward.
    Thea moved back fast, and in her hurry to escape him, slid into the creek. The cold water rushed around her, pulling her down.
    By this time Evan had recovered his balance and he scuffled to the bank, holding out his hand. “Come on; I’ll pull you out.”
    She hesitated, then reached up, putting her hand in his, her lean fingers gripping hard. Evan set his teeth, braced his legs, and pulled her from the creek. As she stood shivering beside him, he asked, “How wet are you?”
    She touched her pants and loose shirt. “Wet enough.” She wrung out the tail of her shirt. “And you? Were you hurt?”
    “I’m not wet,” he said, which was no answer. He felt awkward still, all knees and elbow. “It wouldn’t be a bad idea, come to think of it, getting wet. It’s a while since I’ve had a bath. Maybe tomorrow.”
    “For now, soup,” Thea reminded him and they went back to the cabin, walking close to each other, but not touching.
    The next day Thea snared a rabbit, skinning it expertly with a paring knife found in the cabin. She kept the hide to cure it in urine.
    “We won’t