Apocalyptia (Apocalyptia #1)

Chapter 12

Without much thought, she bent down and tucked the object under her arm. She wasn't sure what it was, but she didn't care. It might be what she had suspected was hiding in the rubble. There wasn't much else of interest, but it was haunting to find tables still standing with broken chairs leaning against their ledges for support. She could almost hear the people talking, the smell of pies being lined up at the bar right out of the oven, and the chipper voice of a young waitress taking them to the tables, hoping for a good tip. It gave her chills and made her heart swell, but she could hear Paul's voice calling for her outside, and he didn't sound happy. She mentally cussed him before rushing back toward the light and climbing out of the window.

He waited not too far from the sidewalk where the little shop had once stood, but the way he stood — arms crossed tightly against his chest and face skewed into a grimace — had her far from willing to just follow him. Instead she took her time, sauntering toward him as she looked at the little metal can that she had stepped on. It read pretty easily, except for the large dent that somewhat mangled the type of roast, but it was apparent that the can was a coffee can. Crystal couldn't help her smile when she realized the little shop might have actually been a pastry shop, and the little can became even more of a treasure. When her eyes met Paul's again, his grimace melted into one of mild curiosity.

Whether he was genuinely interested or not, Crystal didn't care. She held the coffee can up to his face, causing him to lean back and squint to read the letters. He mouthed the word coffee, then peered at her around one side of the can. His frown told her that he wasn't as excited about her discovery as she was, but his feelings didn't dampen her own in the least. If anything, it made her more sure that the treasure was important. It would make Paul smile again, and she would make sure of it.

"Want some coffee?"

Paul let out a sigh, then shook his head. The lines of emotional age were even more prominent than any time Crystal had seen them before. He wanted to head toward the docks, but Crystal wanted to linger and try to recover what bit of normalcy she had left in her before they delved headfirst into a completely new world. She pulled the can back and held it tight against her chest, staring Paul down with the most determined looks she could muster.

He sighed again, but his face was softening, the lines fading back and forming the young face she had first met.

"Do I have to fix it?"

She nodded, tilting her head to the side with a crooked grin, "Of course! I don't know how to build a fire!"

Paul shook his head, feigning annoyance, but Crystal could see the start of a small grin forming on his face. It wasn't a large win, but it was better than nothing.

Paul had been far from willing to stop and cook a can of old coffee, but he didn't put up a fight once Crystal agreed to move closer to the docks before they set up shop. Along the way, they gathered a bar stool, a chair, a broken table, and even a few jars to put the coffee in. It was an odd assortment, and Paul wasn't pleased to find he had to carry most of it, but he bore the burden all the same.

They only stopped once they had cleared most of the skyline, which blocked their view of the docks. Crystal wished they had stopped before then as the sight was far from hopeful. Boats were turned upside down, crushed, and there was no telling how many were in the water, if any. Paul either didn't notice or didn't care; he just stopped and began to set up the table and chairs. Then he walked a distance away before starting a fire with what debris and matches he picked up along the way. Crystal tried to keep her eyes on him, but she found her eyes drifting back to the docks.