Chapter 52

  The kitchen light was already on when Adam got up. Samantha sat at the breakfast bar, the tome she’d purchased from the Salesman open in front of her and a notebook with several sketches on the page lay next to the larger book.

  "You're up early," she said without looking up.

  "I couldn't sleep. If you want, you could head back to bed for a few hours. I'll take what's left of your watch." Adam poured two of their remaining water bottles into the coffee maker, and started the brew cycle.

  "I'm alright. This might be my only chance to study for a bit." She traced a dense section of text with her left hand and took notes with her right.

  Adam pulled up a chair and waited for the coffee to brew. The sketch in the notebook was surprisingly good, a near-perfect rendering of the porcupine creature rested on the page. Beneath the creature was a second sketch of the tongue and attached bulbs they'd pulled out when they’d killed it.

  "I'm making a bestiary," she said, nearly reading his mind.

  "That's a collection of monsters or animals, and information on each of them, right? Kind of like a mythological biology textbook?" he asked, and she glanced up, smiling.

  "Exactly!" She rotated the notebook and pushed it toward him. "Take a look at this."

  Adam looked. The drawing was even more detailed than he'd first thought, with small arrows pointing to the quill slits below the creature's shoulders. The tongue sat below the monster, stretched out and detailed with notes below each portion.

  "These are really good," Adam said honestly. "Have you always been an artist?"

  "Eh, I'm not really an artist." She flipped to the next page of the tome. "I'm more like a copy machine. If I can see it, or I've seen it, I can draw it. But, if I try to draw something original, the details always end up exaggerated or distorted."

  "My dad is like that with music. He can play something after listening to it once, but always said he couldn't make anything on his own." Adam read one of the notes below the tongue. Potentially parasitic. He rubbed his shoulder where the creature had pierced his skin.

  "You've never really talked about your parents," Samantha said, looking up from the book.

  "I know." He sighed, and slid the notebook back to her. "I try not to think about them, or family in general." The coffee machine beeped. Saved by the bell, he thought, getting up and crossing the kitchen for a cup.

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  "I understand. It must be hard," she said.

  Adam grunted, but didn't turn around, pouring himself a cup. "Do you want one?"

  "I'm okay."

  Adam added some cream and sugar, then returned to his seat. "You're right. It's hard. I don't think I'll ever see them again. I doubt they're even still alive."

  Samantha nodded, reaching out and squeezing his forearm. "We don't know until we know, but I understand if that's worse."

  Adam cleared his throat, banishing the thought. "So, this thing might be parasitic?"

  Her voice took on that same excited tone. "Yes! Look at the sketch. I could be misremembering, but from what we saw, there's no anus. There were just those tiny tentacles coming off of the bulbs."

  He stifled a giggle and she gave him a flat look, then joined him in a snicker. "Yeah, I know. I said anus. If Natalie was awake she'd be calling us both children."

  "So... why do you think it's parasitic? And do I actually need to worry about it laying eggs in my shoulder?" He scratched the spot again.

  "I don't think you have to worry. If I had to bet, I think it replaces part of the host's digestive tract, then uses the host body to provide it nutrients until it's ready for whatever the next stage in its life cycle is." She paused for breath. "But that's just a guess."

  "Should I even ask?" he mused, taking a sip from his cup.

  "I watched an unhealthy amount of nature documentaries. Natalie works long shifts, and when she worked a shift on the weekends I'd eat a brownie and spend the day on the couch watching nature shows..." She trailed off when he smirked over the rim of his cup.

  "You'd eat a brownie?"

  "I'd eat a brownie."

  "Right..."

  "Don't judge!" she said, pointing her finger at him.

  "Okay, okay. So these brownies..."

  "Adam!"

  "So, why a bestiary?" he asked, leafing through the notebook to find sketches of nearly every creature they'd encountered.

  "It could save lives," she said soberly. "If we don't die, we're eventually going to run into other survivors. Survivors that don't try to kill us. And if we can help them, even if it's just sharing information, we should."

  Adam couldn't think of a flaw in her logic. "So, we just keep track of every creature we come across, and make notes on how to kill it?"

  "Kill it, avoid it, drive it off. Anything that gives people a fighting chance." She flipped the notebook to a page that showed a goblin. "These, for example. They're intelligent, but greedy and while they travel in groups they don't work together very well."

  "True," Adam said, considering. "That could be really useful to know if you were encountering them for the first time."

  "You could use it against them. Maybe convince them there was a tastier meal elsewhere, or even bribe them with food or alcohol." Samantha pushed the tome closed with a heavy thump. "It's an investment in the future."

  "You really think we're going to make it through this?" Adam couldn't keep the skepticism out of his voice.

  "I think if we're not going to try, we might as well be dead already. And I can say, having been nearly there, I'd much rather be alive."

  Adam finished his cup, digesting her words as she got up.

  "And on that note... I'm going to take you up on your offer, and go cuddle with my wife. Might be our last night to sleep in a bed for a while." She offered him a smile and headed down the hall.

  Adam waited until he heard the door close and pulled the tome toward him.

  An investment in the future.

  He opened the book and started to read.