Name: The Last Good Man
Author: Rae Calder

The Rescue

This story contains explicit sexual content, dark themes, violence, and elements suitable for adult readers only.

If you enjoy dark post-apocalyptic stories with dangerous men, survival tension, and high heat, you can find my newer books on Amazon under Rae Calder.

Tamsin’s legs were shaking long before the scavengers stepped out of the ruins.

She had heard them behind her for almost a mile. Not chasing. Herding.

Every time she changed direction, their boots shifted too. Every time she stopped, the laughter stopped with her. They wanted her frightened before they touched her.

By the time the first man appeared between two slabs of broken concrete, Tamsin already knew there would be another one cutting off the road behind her.

There was.

She backed against a cracked wall, one hand closing around the copper wire looped around her wrist. Her pack was gone. Her knife was gone. Four days of hunger had left her lightheaded and weak enough that even fear felt distant.

“I’m not worth your time,” she rasped.

The bigger scavenger smiled. “That’s for us to decide.”

The smaller one stepped closer.

Then a man’s voice came from the rubble behind them.

“That’s enough.”

The scavengers stopped too fast.

Not scared, Tamsin realized. Annoyed.

A stranger stepped into view, lean and sharp-faced, a pistol hanging loose from one hand. He looked calm. Too calm for a man interrupting two armed scavengers. His gaze flicked over Tamsin first, quick and measuring, before he turned that easy smile on the men.

“You’re spoiling my good deed,” he said.

The bigger one scoffed. “Didn’t know she was yours.”

“She isn’t.” The stranger’s smile widened. “Not yet.”

Tamsin’s stomach tightened.

For a moment, nobody moved. Then the smaller scavenger spat into the dust and backed away with a muttered curse. The other followed, but not before giving the stranger a look that made Tamsin’s skin crawl.

Like this was a game they had played before.

When they were gone, the stranger finally looked at her properly.

“Lucky I came along,” he said.

He dug into his pack and tossed something toward her. Tamsin caught it clumsily against her chest.

A ration bar.

Her fingers shook around it.

“Eat,” he said, soft as kindness. “Out here, starving girls make easy prey.”

She hated that he was right.

She hated more that she tore the wrapper open anyway and chewed into it like a starved animal.

The man chuckled. “Guess you needed that.”

She tried to speak around the food, swallowed hard, then muttered, “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” He crouched beside her. “Name’s Jarn.”

She hesitated. “Tamsin.”

“Nice to meet you, Tamsin.” He leaned back on his heels, casual, like he didn’t have a care in the world. “You planning on wandering the Ashlands alone until someone less charming than me finds you?” She bristled but continued chewing. “I can handle myself.”

He smirked, but not cruelly. More like he found her amusing. “Sure looked that way a minute ago.”

Tamsin’s cheeks burned. She wanted to snap at him, but the food in her stomach was softening her edge. He noticed and offered a hand to pull her up. His fingers closed around hers, calloused but warm. She meant to let go immediately, but he steadied her when her legs wobbled.

“Careful,” he muttered.

She hated the way relief flooded her at that touch.

“Come on. I know a place we can camp for the night,” he said, pointing his chin away from the rubble. “It’s safe.”

Tamsin looked back at the ruins she had just climbed out of, then toward the horizon. She didn’t trust him. Not at all. But he had food, maybe even a fire. All she had to do was wait for the right moment then take what she could and run.

“Alright,” she said finally. “Just for tonight.”

“Deal.”

She reluctantly followed him. Jarn set a steady pace and Tamsin struggled to keep up.

Eventually he slowed and she was able to pull closer. Something gnawed at her, something she couldn’t quite shake.

Finally, she blurted it out. “What do you want with me?”

Jarn glanced over, brows lifted. “What makes you think I want anything?”

“You saved me. Fed me. Now you’re taking me somewhere with water. People don’t do that for nothing.”

His grin tugged at one corner of his mouth. “Sharp girl.” He let the silent stretch, then shrugged. “Maybe I just like the company.”

“What kind of company?”

He chuckled softly and shot her a sidelong look, eyes glinting. “Company that knows how to survive. Strength in numbers, you know?”

Tamsin studied him, looking for the snake in the grass she was used to finding. But he was already looking forward again, whistling a tune as if the conversation hadn’t mattered.

By midday, they reached a squat brick building half-covered in vines. Jarn slipped inside through a bent doorframe and waved her in after him.

It wasn’t much, just a few scavenged chairs, a stack of torn blankets, and a rusted basin with a water drum propped above it. Compared to the dirt and blood she’d slept in for weeks, it looked luxurious.

“Here.” He dropped his pack and dug out another ration bar. “Eat this then wash up. I’ve got extra clothes. Not the cleanest but better then...well...”

Tamsin didn’t move or reach for the bar.

“What? I don’t bite.”

Her laugh escaped her before she could stop it. It was a small, broken sound that surprised even her.

“That’s what they all say right before they bite.”

Jarn lowered the bar, his eyes never leaving hers. “I’m just trying to help, Tamsin. Stick with me and you’ll be safe.”

Tamsin laughed again, but then her stomach growled.

Jarn lifted an eyebrow and held the ration bar out again. “Eat.”

Despite herself, she took it.

While she ate, Jarn busied himself with a fire. Then he showed her where she could wash and change behind a crumbled wall. She reluctantly peeled off her filthy rags, grateful for the shadows in the room. The water was cold, but she scrubbed until the worst of the grime was gone. When she pulled on the clean shirt, soft against her skin, she nearly cried.

But she had to keep it together. Her life depended on it.

When she stepped out from behind the wall, Jarn glanced over at her. “Much better. I knew there was a pretty girl under there.”

She grimaced. “Thanks.”

“Don’t get sore.” He sauntered closer, eyeing her from head to toe. “It’s a compliment.”

She hugged herself. “It’s a line.”

He stepped around her to the pile of discarded clothes and grabbed them. She watched as he tossed them into the fire.

“You won’t need those anymore.”

Tamsin’s jaw set and she took a deep breath through her nose. “Guess not.”

“Come sit,” he said, returning to the fire. “I’ll make us something half decent to eat.”

The stew he threw together in the old pot was thin, but it filled the hollow ache in her belly. Tamsin licked the last of it from her spoon and leaned back against the wall, drowsy from food and warmth. Jarn was crouched by the fire, fussing with his pistol, humming a tune under his breath. He didn’t look at her, but somehow she felt his attention anyway, like the space between them was too small to hold it all.

“How long have you been traveling alone?” he asked.

She shrugged. “Long enough. Hard to trust people.”

He gave a low chuckle. “You trust me?”

“I don’t have much of a choice right now.”

“Yeah,” he said, laying the pistol aside. His eyes watched her in the firelight. “But you’ve got grit. I can tell.”

Jarn pushed himself up and crossed the small space, dropping down beside her. The heat of his body radiated against her side, close enough to feel but not touching. He nodded toward her wrist.

“Trinket? Or something else?”

Tamsin was surprised he noticed the copper coil. She lifted her arm, twisting the dull loop between her fingers and was talking before she could stop herself. “It was my sister’s. She wore it for luck. When she...” Her throat closed and she swallowed hard. “Not so lucky, I guess.”

“Well, it kind of is,” he said softly. “Brought you to me.”

Tamsin let out a dry laugh. “For all I know, you’re just buttering me up to sell me off.”

“I can see why you’d think that,” he said. His tone dropped, quieter. “You know, I lost someone too. We stuck together through everything. She was stubborn, smart...kind of like you.” His mouth twisted, eyes fixed on the fire. “But I couldn’t protect her. Thought I had it under control, thought I—” He paused. “Doesn’t matter now. Just wish I had something like a bracelet to remember her by.”

Jarn reached out, letting his thumb graze the wire where it circled her skin. The touch was small, almost nothing, but her stomach fluttered.

Tamsin blinked. “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “I thought maybe I didn’t deserve to keep going when she didn’t...but what choice did I have? You keep walking, or you lie down and rot.”

She turned to him, seeing the lost look in his eyes. It was like he was somewhere in the past, fighting to hold on to a memory.

“Yeah,” she said. “That’s how it feels.”

Jarn leaned closer. “Some nights it gets so quiet it eats at me.”

His fingers lingered on her arm and she should have pulled away. Instead, she found herself lost in her own memories. The nights when she felt safe. Safe with her sister.

“Guess what I’m saying is,” he said, cutting into her thoughts, “I get it. I really do.”

“Men always say they get it.” She pulled her arm away, voice tight. “It just means they want in between your legs.”

“Hey,” he said quickly, leaning away. “I’m...I mean...that’s not why...”

“Sure.”

“I’m not all men,” he said, his hand on his chest. “Those men, they don’t get it. Women...you guys survive, adapt. That’s worth more than half the men I’ve met.”

She searched his face again. There was no mockery, no hint of insincerity. But she had met good actors before.

“Look,” she said, “I appreciate the food and shelter. I just have a hard time believing it’s all out of the goodness of your heart.”

Tamsin shifted to stand, but his hand on her arm stopped her. It wasn’t a tight grip, but enough to stop her.

“Maybe I’m being selfish,” he said, guiding her to sit back down, “but I just want to protect someone like I couldn’t protect her.”

“I’m not her.”

“I know.” He reached over and brushed a lock of hair from her forehead. “And you could never take her place. Like I said, it’s selfish of me.”

For some reason her breath hitched. There was a gentleness in his touch, something she hadn’t experienced from a man ever in her life.

When he leaned in, slow enough to let her pull away, she didn’t. His mouth met hers, unhurried, coaxing her lips open with the tiniest bit of pressure.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispered against her lips, “and I’ll stop.”

“Stop,” she said, her voice breathless.

She was surprised when he did. He broke the kiss and inched away, his eyes steady on hers.

“Of course.”

He looked away, but not before she saw the hurt on his face. Not disappointment, not defeat. Hurt. Like he was watching something precious slip away. Again.

Her lips still tingled. A strange warmth pooled low in her belly. She felt an indescribable pull instead of the urge to flee. Everything about this was weird...and fascinating.

Before he could move away any further, she reached out, her fingers grazing his jaw. He turned back toward her quickly, surprise in his eyes. As he opened his mouth to speak, pressing her mouth against his.

She melted into this time, amazed at what it felt like not to be taken or forced. Just touched.