Suddenly, I realize I'm still naked.
I scurry backward and snatch my towel up to cover my front side. "Who are you? What are you doing here?"
The man rises to his knees and brushes sand off himself. "Where am I?"
"California."
He surveys the beach, seeming satisfied. "Well, that's better than where I just came from."
"You haven't answered my questions."
"Maybe I don't feel like answering."
I glance to my right, where I'd left my clothes in a neat little pile.
"Want your clothes?" the man asks. "Or would you rather fuck right here on the beach?"
"Excuse me? I do not have sex with strangers." Well, maybe I used to be like that, but I don't remember. I hope not.
He licks his lips as he gazes at my bare thighs. "I haven't been with a woman in such a long time."
I leap up and grab my clothes, then bolt for the path that leads up and over the mountain, to where Sanctuary lies. I only make it halfway there before the stranger throws his arms around me from behind and hoists me off my feet.
"Don't run," he growls into my ear. "Tell me one thing, and I'll consider letting you go."
"Gee, thanks."
He rubs his stubbly cheek against my face. "Guess you don't want me to let go yet."
"Just ask your damn question."
"Is this Sanctuary?"
His question stops me for a moment. Sure, people find us here and often join our camp. But they don't know what name we gave it until we tell them. This man already knows. That realization sweeps a shiver up my spine.
My captor gives me a quick, hard squeeze. "Answer my question."
"I can't. Need to talk to my friends first."
"Wrong answer." He rips the towel away, leaving me naked and holding on to my lump of clothes. "Guess it's fucking on the beach, then."
"Threatening me with sexual assault won't convince me to give you information."
For a moment, he doesn't move or speak. I hear only the whispering of his breaths and the pounding of my own heart. Then he releases me. "Go on. Run to your friends, Lady Godiva."
I race for the camp, running faster than I ever have before, and crest the mountain in a few minutes. I stop there. Needing to rest is only part of the reason. I glance around but don't see that vile man. So I take the time to quickly yank my clothes on before I sprint down the mountainside. By the time I reach the camp, everyone is busy preparing for lunch. They've started a small fire to roast over a spit what looks like a chicken. As I draw closer, slowing to a jog, I can tell they have another spit set up on the other side of the fire, and that one seems to have a pig roasting on it.
I approach Grant Larson and Erin Harding, the people who found me on the beach two months ago. They've become my friends, just like Dax and Allison Stainthorpe and their adopted daughter, Willow. Dax's brother was the lunatic who created the apocalypse, but nobody brings up that subject without a really good reason.
Erin smiles and waves for me to go to her. "Did you have a good time sunbathing?"
"Uh, yeah. Until some guy fell out of the sky and grabbed me."
"What? Are you okay?"
I shrug. "Sure, fine. He let me go, and I ran back here."
"You're awfully calm, considering what happened."