The Savage Horde

Chapter 32

Sarah kept her eyes closed. She could hear Michael breathing, hear Annie snoring a little as she always did. She heard nothing from Millie but had checked a few moments earlier—the girl had always been a sound, unimaginative sleeper.

She was alone in the small tent except for them—except for her thoughts. She kept her eyes closed tight, but could not sleep.

There had been no word through Bill Mulliner—no word of John. She had asked David Balfry and he had promised to put out feelers that very night—to see if her husband had contacted the resistance or if U.S. II knew his whereabouts.

"David Balfry," she murmured.

He was a handsome man, by any woman's standards, she thought.

She wondered why he had smiled at her.

She rolled over, the blankets on the hard, damp ground not so uncomfortable she couldn't sleep—since the Night of The War she had slept under far worse conditions.

She made herself think of the refugees—in the morning, Reverend Steel would be back and she'd begin helping him as a nurse—She couldn't stay forever at the refugee center.

She would take up the search for John if no news came of his whereabouts. She would do that.

John was strong—David Balfry—he was strong, too. She remembered the way his hand had felt. It had been a long time since a man had held her hand like that, no matter how brief.

She closed her eyes tighter, rolling onto her back again. She mentally reconstructed her husband's features. His eyes—they could see through you, she remembered. His forehead was high, but it had always been high, his hair thick, healthy, dark. There had been gray hair on his chest—prematurely gray, she had realized then and told herself now. She thought of the hardness of his muscles when he held her in his arms.

She opened her eyes, staring up at the tent beyond the hazy darkness, the grayness.

"John," she whispered, barely hearing her own words, feeling them more. "I need you. now—"She realized what her hands were doing—and she kept them there, closing her eyes.