She could feel him circling her warily, a satellite always close but maintaining a steady distance. Whenever she tried to approach him, he scampered off like a skittish colt.
She’d hurt him by pushing him away. Now, he was the guarded one.
She’d messed up, but she wasn’t sure how to fix it.
Lately, she’d messed up a lot of things with a lot of people.
Quinn put down the watering can. She blew her too-long bangs out of her eyes. Guilt nibbled at her. She’d made things right with Bishop, Hannah, and Liam.
Gran, though…
She loved Gran with her whole heart, but even at the best of times, the woman was prickly as a thistle. Still, it was time to talk.
26
Quinn
Day One Hundred and Nine
“Gran,” Quinn said.
Gran pretended she hadn’t heard.
Quinn knew she had. “Gran.”
Gran bent and watered the healthy green Swiss Chard leaves growing from the soil in the plastic grocery bag. Her ever-present Mossberg on one side, her cane on the other. “With the weather finally turning, these should be ready to transfer soon.”
“Gran—”
“How are you on feminine hygiene products?”
The question so abrupt that Quinn just looked at her.
“Pads? Tampons?”
“Yeah, Gran, I know. I have some from the store run after the Collapse. As soon as they’re gone, I’ve got the menstrual cup, like you told me. And those washable, reusable absorbent cloths.”
Gran nodded to herself. “Good, good. And birth control?”
Quinn balked. “What?”
Gran shot her a look and waggled her gnarled eyebrows. “I may be a church-going woman, but I’m neither blind nor senile. Girls are going to get into trouble, and there won’t be a thing I can say to stop it. So—”
Quinn sputtered, her face hot. “I’m not—！”
“I’ve seen how that Marshall boy looks at you. Figure it won’t be too long before you notice and start looking back.”
“Jonas doesn’t—”
“You can’t just run down to the pharmacy and pick up birth control pills anymore.”
“I’m aware of that fact.”
“I’ve stockpiled some pills in the basement for you. Spermicide, condoms. They won’t last more than a year or two, though.”
Horrified at the words coming out of Gran’s mouth, Quinn stared at her.
“There aren’t safe herbal alternatives. Some semi-effective natural preventative methods—”
Quinn clapped her hands over her ears. “La, la, la. I can’t hear you!”
Gran talked louder. “Be glad I thought ahead and stocked these for you. Otherwise, you’d be stuck making condoms out of pig intestines.”
Quinn about died right there. “Gran!”
Gran gave a casual shrug. “What? Blood and guts don’t get to you, but the birds and bees do?”
Quinn’s face burned. She wanted the ground to open up and swallow her. “I’m not gonna do that stuff. Okay? Not for a long, long time.”
Abruptly, Gran turned serious. “This is no time to be bringing a baby into this world. In sub-Saharan Africa, the death rate among women during childbirth is one in sixteen. That’s almost seven percent of all pregnant women. Are you hearing me? That’s where we are now. No prenatal vitamins or check-up visits. No ultrasounds. No C-sections.”
“Hannah—”
“Hannah almost died of pre-eclampsia!”
Quinn set her jaw. A stubborn, boorish part of her wanted to argue just to argue, but she pushed her frustration down. “I have no intention of—”
Gran’s wrinkled face hardened. “You don’t always choose it, girl.”
Chagrined, Quinn’s mouth clamped shut. She knew exactly what Gran meant.
She thought of the horror stories coming out of Illinois; the Syndicate taking over FEMA camps and small towns, stealing and selling girls and women. Her stomach curdled.
Gran pointed at her with her gardening gloves. “You young people think you’re invincible. You’re not. You’re made of meat and bone, like every creature on this cursed earth. You’re not special. You can die just like anybody else.”
Quinn touched the scabbed tear in her lip. Evelyn had stitched it up—painfully, without anesthetic—but it would leave a jagged scar.
Memories of that night flooded back. The pain. The fear.
“I know, Gran. Trust me, I know.”
“Just making sure.”