Otto had a bad feeling about these people. He didn't much like them and certainly didn't trust them. Better to limit your company, fewer people to stab you in the back, no one to disappoint. But now here he was, surrounded by people. He counted them: five, six including himself. How many years since he'd bedded down with that that many people around?

Otto used to be able to go days without seeing anyone. That suited him fine. He liked living alone. You could stay in one place for days in a row. Back in the early days he would read old books and magazines until the sunlight faded. Kept his mind occupied. Every so often he would cross paths with a friendly sort and they would keep company for awhile, a few days, maybe a few week. Scrounging was tough work and usually you didn't find enough to share. That lead to bad feelings and, when times are hard, that leads to bad actions. Nice as it was, it was better to be alone.

Then things got worse. Rather than sifting through the ruins looking for food and supplies, some folks decided it was faster if they instead looked for people who had done the work for them. Sometimes they used dogs to help hunt. Otto had been robbed twice, once at knifepoint and once a gang of three cornered him, beat him senseless, and left him for dead. He might have been able to outrun them if he had just dropped his bag but the thought hadn't occurred to him—he had spent so much time finding those warm clothes and precious cans of food. He learned then to carry only essentials and squirrel away the rest. Problem was, he had been doing it for so many years he couldn't remember all where he'd hidden things. Each passing day felt like a children's game: hide and seek, scavenger hunt, memory. It was a horrible way to live, but Otto couldn't just can't give up, could he? Sure he was alive, but for what?

Then came Jackal. Otto had just been puttering around when he heard the sound of ferocious barking. He had intended to head in the opposite direction but the noise echoed off the broken slabs of ruined buildings, confusing him, and he wound up rounding a corner and nearly walking smack into them. A skinny teenage girl was perched on a concrete column about five feet off the ground and a large, mangy dog snapping at her feet. With each kick at its snout she nearly fell. Otto knew the girl would tire of her balancing act long before the dog grew bored. There was only one end to that story.

Otto hesitated. Then he found himself striding forward with a chunk of concrete in his hand. The dog, distracted by its prey, turned just in time to catch the jagged block in the skull. Otto finished it with a second blow. He helped the girl down from her pedestal. They both acted as though it had been no big deal, but she didn't scamper away like he'd hoped. The next thing he knew he was talking out loud as he hefted the dog over his shoulders, explaining how they could get at least two good meals out of the carcass. He had no idea where that "they" came from. It just popped into his head.

She was quiet, maybe that's why he liked her so much. She stirred feelings. He couldn't pin down her age but she appeared to be a little bit younger than Odie would have been, a little bit older than Missy when they had first met, a lifetime ago. She didn't ask for help, but she needed it. She was good at scavenging—she could fit in all kinds of tight places—but she took too many risks. She laughed when he didn't know he was being funny and never asked questions about his past. He had gotten used to having her around in no time flat.

So is that why it stung to see her sitting so close to that bearded young man, hanging on his every word? His device was remarkable, Otto had to admit that, but it never occurred to him that Jackal would like to be read to. Otto could have done that had she said she liked it. Maybe she didn't know it herself. Or maybe it wasn't about the words but who was reading.

He cursed his own foolishness and struggled to his feet. Otto liked to arrive at the swapping place a day or so before the appointed meeting. People had a hard time keeping track of the days and sometimes, if the folks looked nice enough, he could do some early trades without any competition. Swap meets kept getting bigger though and that made Otto nervous. Crowds attracted attention. When they spied the bearded kid with Devlin, a man Otto was familiar with from past swaps, Otto wanted to head in the other direction but Jackal skipped right up and introduced herself. Then the blonde woman and her elderly companion stumbled upon them and asked if they could join. Now they were arguing loudly about politics while the bearded young man read to Jackal, who was caught in a fit of giggles.

Too much noise, Otto thought. Too many people. Only one end to this story. He thought about slipping away—no one was paying him any attention anyway—but he looked at Jackal. Was she holding onto that man's arm now?

Otto cursed himself again, sat back down, and busied himself by collecting wood shards to burn. They would need a fire when night fell and he doubted these fools would have the sense to be prepared.