Alexei sat back in one of the bright red Adirondack chairs, the paint peeling in thin curls against his palms. The fire in front of him had burned low, nothing left but a bed of glowing embers and the occasional snap as the logs shifted. The smoke drifted upward in slow ribbons, carrying the faint, sweet tang of pine.
Everyone else had gone to bed. Noah was back at the rec center, probably talking too much, and for once the clearing was silent. Alexei let it be. He'd been putting this moment off for eight days—eight days past the time he was supposed to check in.
Most employers might overlook a missed report during a zombie apocalypse. Then again, Country S wasn't like most employers.
