The first thing that hits me is the fantastic, mouth-watering scent. It’s got to be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever smelled. If smells were beautiful, that is.

It’s basically a big cabin with hardwood floors, tables and chairs, and a whole bunch of lamps hanging from the ceiling, lighting the place up. There are also quite a few people hanging around. Most of them look like they’ve either been starved to death or recently escaped from prison.

I can’t decide if I’m relieved or ready to fend people off with a chair.

“Come in, come in.” A sweet, motherly voice pops out of the silence behind us. We turn, seeing an older woman with a green and tan uniform on. “You look freezing to death! Come on over here by the fire.”

I stare at her in confusion, wondering why she’s being so friendly, and follow her across the room towards a fireplace. It’s a huge one, giving off enough heat to slow cook a few pizzas. I sit on the edge of the mantle and hold out my hands, loving the pure warmth it gives off.

“Where did you come from?” the woman asks, tossing a wet towel over her shoulder. Just like a waitress. “What’s your story?”

I swallow, exchanging a look with Chris. His face is expressionless as he shrugs off his jacket, revealing a long sleeve wool shirt. I stare for second, because man, does he make even the ugliest clothes look hot.

“We’re from the city,” Chris replies, his lips curving into a smile.

He doesn’t offer any more information. Wise.

“What is this place?” I ask, turning the interrogation on Waitress Woman.

“It was my business,” she replies, sighing. “But ever since everything happened…well, I’ve just been using it as long as I can to help out people traveling through here. There’s nothing else in these hills, and I can’t get down the mountain very well during the dead of winter. Besides, with the stories I’ve been hearing, it’s safer up here anyway.”

I nod.

“That’s for sure.”

She raises an eyebrow.

“If you’re from the city, what are you doing up here?” she asks.

“We’re looking for my brother,” Chris says, lying like a pro. “He was camping up here when the pulse hit.”

“I’m sorry,” she says, softening. “But the chances of finding him are slim, honey.”

“I know.” Chris suddenly turns his attention away from her and starts unbuttoning my jacket. He helps me out of it, pulling my gloves off. My fingers are red, maybe frostbitten.

“Let me get you some food and drinks,” the woman says. “And by the way, my name’s Tasha.”

I smile.

“Thank you, Tasha.”

Neither Chris nor I offer up our names. Now that we’re on Omega radar, it’d probably be better to keep that little nugget of information to ourselves.

“Can you feel your fingers?” Chris asks, firelight casting shadows across his face.

“They haven’t fallen off and defrosted yet, if that’s what you mean,” I smirk. “They’re a little numb, yeah.”

He frowns, clasping my hands together. Then he starts rubbing them. The friction starts getting them warm. It also starts to bring back my sense of touch. Good thing, too. I could never play another round of cellphone ping-pong with frozen fingers.

“I don’t trust her,” Chris says after a long silence. His voice is so quiet that I can barely hear him. “She’s fishing for information.”

“We just walked into her restaurant,” I reply. “She’s naturally going to be curious.”

“No. Something’s off,” he insists. “Don’t tell her anything she doesn’t need to know. Agreed?”

I give him a mock Boy Scout salute.

“You have my word, captain,” I grin.

By the time Tasha comes back with food and drinks we’re both pretty well thawed out. She gives us a plate of steaming meat and soup, along with some hot tea. When I ask Chris what kind of meat it is, he tells me that I don’t want to know, so I shouldn’t ask. Whatever. I don’t really care. It’s kind of tough, with a strange flavor that I’ve never tasted in meat before. That’s when I realize that this is probably wild deer meat…or even bear meat. Gross.

Thankfully, I don’t have this revelation until after I’ve eaten.

Chris and I scoot back against the wall, close enough to the fire to enjoy its heat. The people that are scattered around the restaurant are just as silent and suspicious as we are, so they don’t bother us.

“You make yourselves at home,” Tasha says, cleaning up the trays.

“Thank you so much,” I reply. “This is so nice of you.”

She smiles.

“I’m glad to be appreciated.”

She disappears to who-knows-where. I press my head against Chris’s shoulder and he wraps his arm around me. “Warm at last?” he asks, smiling against my hair.

“Totally,” I reply. “But we’ll have to get cold again tomorrow.”

“Remember what I told you about thinking warm thoughts?”

“Yeah. Space heaters and stuff.”

“You’re not thinking warm thoughts.”

I roll my eyes. “Fine, sorry. Fuzzy socks, bathrobes, electric blankets, soft boots. All that jazz. There. I feel warm.”

“You only feel warm because I’m touching you,” he says, flashing one of his devilish grins. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

“No. I’d say that it’s because we’re sitting next to a fireplace with the potential to heat a five hundred pound teakettle.” I press my nose against his chest, not wanting to admit that yes, I tend to forget about temperature issues when he’s got his arms around me.

“Goodnight,” he whispers, kissing my forehead. “Think you can handle the heat all night?”

I slap his arm.

“Yeah. I think I can,” I grumble, to his total amusement. His cheerful laughter is the last thing I hear before I doze off.

It sucks to be shaken out of a deep sleep.

That’s what happens to me at about four in the morning. The fire is still burning strong. I’m slumped across Chris at a weird angle. I rub my stiff neck before I look around the room, trying to figure out what woke me up. I heard a sound, hadn’t I? Why else would I wake up? Maybe Chris was snoring.

No. He never snored. That I knew of, anyway.

“…Yes, I’m sure. Positive.”

Ah, voices. It was voices I heard. I close my eyes and concentrate on listening, mildly interested in the conversation. It sounds like Tasha talking to a couple of men. How a lone female in the middle of the wilderness has the guts to run a restaurant with a bunch of wild men in it I’ll never know.

“They were here a few days ago, looking for them,” Tasha says, her voice rough. “The reward was pretty big, the way they told it.”

I lick my lips, fists clenching around Chris’s shirt.

“Chris,” I whisper, nudging his chin with my head. “Wake up.”

He stirs, squeezing me tighter. Such a dude.

“Chris!” I snap. “I think we were just compromised.”

He opens his eyes, blinking off the fuzziness of sleep.

“What?”

“Shh. Listen.”

He peers at the ceiling, straining to hear what I’m hearing.

“…A man and a woman. They didn’t give me their names, but they fit the descriptions. And the picture that was on his military ID is definitely that man with her.”

Chris’s whole body tenses up, but you wouldn’t know he was ticked off by the expression on his face: calm, cool, confident. Totally unconcerned. While I just stare at him like a scared bunny rabbit. “What do we do?” I hiss.

“We get out of here.”

As quietly as I can, I crawl forward and pull my jacket off the mantle. It’s warm and dry. I shrug it on and button it up, putting on my gloves. Chris does the same, only he looks way stealthier than me when he does. Like a cat. I’m more like a clumsy puppy.

“They’re in the kitchen,” he whispers. “We can get out the front door.”

I nod, afraid to speak. Tasha’s voice is joined by a couple more male voices, sending chills down my spine. They’re talking about us. There’s no doubt about that. What are the chances I would wake up and hear them discussing our doom?