“What’s wrong with me?”
“Do you want me to answer that?” asked Madison, right next to her.
Harper jumped. “Gah!”
“Sorry.”
She looked down at her kid sister. “C’mere a sec, Termite. There’s something I need to tell you.”
35
Deserve
Harper led Madison out the front door and far enough down Hilltop Drive that none of the other kids would hear them.
“It’s bad news, isn’t it?” asked Madison, staring down at her toes.
“No. Not bad news.”
She looked up, shocked. “You don’t have to go on another ride?”
“Umm. Not that I know about. It’s possible I will in the future, but I dunno. And no, that’s not what I wanted to tell you.”
Madison slouched in relief. “Okay. What is it? Spill.”
“Ugh.” Harper sat on a giant rock someone had put in their front yard for decoration.
“You said it wasn’t bad news. Why are you sitting down?” Madison tilted her head, narrowing her eyes in suspicion.
“I’m gonna tell you something that maybe I shouldn’t tell a ten-year-old, but you deserve to know this.”
“Is it about sex?”
The unexpected—casual—comment caught Harper so off guard that she laughed. “No.”
Madison furrowed her eyebrows. “It’s not funny.”
“Those guys with the blue sashes found us when we were at the hospital. We got into a shootout.”
“Harp…” Madison grabbed and pawed at her, checking for injuries. “You’re not gonna die, are you?”
“No, good grief, no.” Harper hugged her. “I got thrown around a little, but I’m fine. We fought our way out of the hospital, got into the van, and drove off, but they kept chasing us. This spot of road had so many dead cars in it we had to drive super slow. One of the thugs jumped on the back of the van and pulled the doors open, coming in after us.”
Madison gasped.
She hesitated. “Maybe I shouldn’t…”
“Did he…?” Madison’s lip quivered.
“No. I was riding in the back, and we stared at each other. He was… the same guy who killed Dad.”
Tears ran down Madison’s cheeks, but she didn’t make a sound or move.
“I don’t know what came over me, Termite. I shot him like six times as fast as I could pull the trigger. He was dead before he hit the road.”
Madison stood there in silence, crying for a moment, then bowed her head. “Thanks for telling me. He deserved it.”
“Yeah. He did.”
“You didn’t.” Madison hugged her.
Harper wrapped her arms around her kid sister. “Huh?”
“You shouldn’t have to kill people. We’re just kids.”
“Heh. I’m not really a kid anymore. Three months, I’ll be eighteen. But… turning eighteen doesn’t really mean that much now.”
“I guess,” muttered Madison. “You can even have beer, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Can I have beer?”
“No. You’re too small. Gotta be fifteen.”
Madison cry-laughed. “Okay. Mom said drinking doesn’t solve problems, it just makes them wait ’til tomorrow.”
“I wasn’t planning to get drunk over that bastard. Just because I can drink without getting in trouble now doesn’t mean I’m going to get wasted all the time. That stuff tastes like crap.”
“Then why do people drink it?” Madison leaned back from the hug, giving her a quizzical stare. “If it tastes bad.”
Harper shrugged. “I haven’t figured that out yet. Maybe it tastes good to them? I don’t really know. Anyway, I just wanted you to know that the man who hurt Dad got what he deserved. He’s dead and he’ll never hurt us again.”
“Can we go home now?” asked Madison.
A crack split down the middle of Harper’s heart, threatening to break it. She stared into her sister’s deep hazel eyes. She still thinks we’re going to go back there… “Umm… Termite, we’re… umm…”
Madison shook her head. “No. I mean”—she pointed at the house they’d been staying in for the past three months—“home.”
Oh… Her referring to this place as home shattered the dam. Harper smiled, but couldn’t stop crying. Perhaps her little sister wasn’t as broken as she feared. “Yeah. Let’s go home.”
Mila’s distant battle roar preceded the hollow thump of foot-on-ball, followed a half-second later by the deeper thud of ball-on-skull. Lorelei started to emit a squeal—but rather than evolve into scream-crying, she laughed like an idiot.
“Holy crap! She flipped over in midair!” yelled Jonathan. “Are you okay?”
“She’s laughing,” said Becca.
“She’s bleeding!” yelled Jonathan.
“Just my node!” shouted Lorelei.
“Oops,” said Mila. “Sorry. Didn’t think you’d try to block it with your face.”
“Uh oh.” Harper jumped to her feet. “Sounds like we should get home like, right now.”
36
Rats
That night, Harper stood in her bedroom a few minutes before dark, frowning at the dresser.
She frowned because it didn’t contain any of the clothes she’d left behind in Lakewood. Not that she had any urge to make a fashion statement, but what she planned to do tonight required a specific look. Unfortunately, she had only one option to wear black below the waist: yoga pants. She would’ve preferred black fatigues since those had pockets, or even camo. Alas, the Walmart raid had come up short.
She hadn’t even chosen the yoga pants. They’d been wadded up and stuffed into one of the sets of jeans she’d claimed, probably by Marcie while trying to jam as much as possible into a shopping cart. Still, black was black. She pulled them on and added a black T-shirt, turning it inside out to hide the Metallica logo on the outside.
White sneakers, she couldn’t do anything about. She didn’t have darker shoes, and going barefoot would’ve been brighter. Her father used to joke that the crew of the International Space Station could see her from orbit whenever she went outside in a swimsuit.
She’d kept the handgun the guy had nearly shot her with, not at all concerned if anyone complained about her swiping it. The weapon had—albeit indirectly—drawn blood from her via itty bitty cinderblock fragments. It felt super weird to put a leather belt on over yoga pants, but she liked having a smaller firearm she could keep on her hip around the house. If she ever had to run out the door in a hurry, she’d never be caught unarmed. Even if she did have much less practice with a .45 than the shotgun, it beat nothing.
“I hate that you have to stay out all night,” said Madison from the bed.
“It’s not all night. Just four hours.” Harper spun away from the dresser to smile at the girls. “It’s my turn tonight, and it’s just until we find who’s stealing food. I’ll try not to wake you up when I get home. Now, go to sleep.”
“Not even dark yet,” said Lorelei.
“Well… do something then before it gets dark.” She kissed the little one atop the head, patted Madison on the arm, and headed out, Mossberg in hand.
So far, the militia who’d guarded the quartermaster’s place at night had stood out in the open, an obvious deterrent. Harper got the idea to try something else and set up a trap by hiding nearby and watching the building so it appeared they’d given up guarding it. If the food thief thought they had an opportunity, she could catch them in the act. Since no one knew who had been stealing at night, she didn’t say anything about that plan to anyone except Cliff. Not that she suspected people on the militia of being the thief, but the fewer who knew she planned to hide, the better.
A short distance down Hilltop Drive, she spotted Logan walking toward her. As soon as they made eye contact, he smiled. She did, too. He walked up to her, stopping almost close enough to kiss, but neither one of them moved or spoke for a moment.
“Hey,” said H
arper.
“What’s up?”
“Working tonight. Militia stuff. Like, top secret.” She winked.
He chuckled. “Cool. Hey, I was on my way to your place to ask if you wanted to hang out sometime. Just us?”
“No party this time?” She quirked an eyebrow.
“Well, maybe… but it would just be the two of us. Got a little surprise for you, and no it’s nothing bad.”
Harper grimaced mentally. She liked Logan, liked hanging out with him. He clearly seemed to be into her, but she had too much going on in her head to add worry about a boyfriend on top of it all. After Tyler… I don’t want… And, I don’t feel that way about Logan, or… She stared into his eyes, trying to consider how she felt about him without being preoccupied by the idea that any boyfriend would be a bad idea. A dazed butterfly orbited her stomach for a few seconds before crashing. Okay… maybe something is there. And… any of us could die next week. Guess it won’t hurt to at least try dating him. I’d go out with him if the war hadn’t happened. She bit her lip. Well… if the war didn’t happen, Introvert Prime would be screaming and running away right now.
“Sure. Sounds fun.”
“Great.” He grabbed her free left hand in both of his, but didn’t seem to know if he should shake it, kiss it, or just stand there holding it. “Umm… So, you said you’re busy now?”
“Yeah. Militia stuff. Maybe tomorrow night or Thursday?”
Logan nodded. “Awesome. After dinner? I’ll swing by and pick you up?”
“Yeah. It’s a date then.”
He grinned.
“But, I gotta go now.”
Logan nodded.
She walked past him. A few seconds later, a soft, “Yes!” broke the silence.
Harper clamped a hand over her mouth to hold back a giggle.
An unexpectedly bright mood came over her for the rest of the walk to the quartermaster building. She even hummed to herself as if on the way to grab coffee or a new outfit, not sit in the bushes with a shotgun for four hours in the dark.
Seriousness returned when she approached the door on the side of the building, off the little approach road leading up from Route 74. Ken Zhang, who’d been watching the place on the previous shift, waved at her.
“Hey. Right on time.”
“Wow, really? I just guessed.”
“Yeah.” He shouldered his rifle. “Everyone got used to using their cell phones for the time, no one has watches. So, whenever the relief shows up, they’re on time. As long as it’s not too far off.”
“Right.” She fist-bumped him.
“Who’s on after you?”
“Uhh, Sadie or Marcie I think. Walter’s handwriting is horrible, especially in dry-erase marker.”
Ken gave her a knowing nod. “Yeah, I missed the first two nights thinking we had a Kim.”
She laughed.
“Anyway, time for ‘Kim’ to go to sleep.” He waved and walked off.
Harper stood guard by the door until he walked out of sight, then crossed the grass to the sidewalk corner at the northeast end of the building. There, she sat among the trees in a spot that gave her a view of the front entrance as well as the side door. The food thief had been careless a week ago, losing a pack of cookies in the hall near the side door. Evidently, they hadn’t noticed it fall. Liz found it the next morning.
Due to that, the militia assumed the thieves made use of the side door along the north face of the building. It made sense, given that it had mostly open field across the road from it and that part of the building couldn’t be observed from the militia HQ on the other side of the former kennel.
After arranging some low-hanging branches to conceal her pale face, she rested the shotgun across her lap… and waited. Normally, the militia guarding the quartermaster’s at night had to patrol around the building every so often. Walter didn’t want them standing still by one door the whole time. Harper figured the food thief made their move when the guard walked away, slipping into the building unnoticed, then leaving the next time they walked off. Or maybe they entered during the day, then made their way out unseen at night. That could explain how they managed to get in without breaking any windows.
At first, she’d hoped it had been the shadow men stealing food, thinking that they had camped out nearby or even used an empty house right in town while they waited for the opportunity to grab Mila or possibly scouted out other children they could abduct and brainwash. Whether by morbid curiosity, sheer random oddity, or what, someone had decided to give Mila a set of throwing knives they’d confiscated from the dead. Hell, why not? The girl was damn good with them, even if the weapons themselves didn’t have the killing power of a gun. If she kept practicing with them, by the time she even reached Harper’s age, she’d be damn scary.
Of course, Mila wasn’t allowed to carry them around all the time. Not yet. Her mother let her practice with them in the backyard of her house for now, if she wanted to. Harper suspected she probably carried one, hidden, just in case.
She shook her head at the thought of a girl younger than Madison who could nail a kidnapper in the eye with a throwing knife. If not for her noodle of an arm, she probably would’ve killed the guy. Then again, her sister had shot a man. Admittedly, it hadn’t been fatal, but still, Madison had put a bullet into a man trying to kidnap Jonathan. She’d never spoken of it since, nor did she have any interest in carrying a gun around. That Mila wanted to carry at least one knife around, just in case, worried Harper.
Oh, please let her cope and be normal. As normal as anyone can be now.
One hour dragged into the next. The moon kept vanishing and reappearing behind fast-moving clouds, making it difficult to see. Harper tried to hold as still as she could, only turning her head a slight bit to keep scanning the two doors.
Roughly two hours into her shift, the soft crunch of multiple footsteps on dirt came from her right. Harper froze, listening. Faint whispering followed, but she couldn’t make out words. Inch by inch, she turned her head toward the voices.
Minutes later, three forms emerged from a cluster of trees at the south end of Elk Meadow Field, crossing the road in a rapid shuffling walk toward the quartermaster’s. A trio of tween boys, all on the heavyset side, hurried up to the door. They wore oversized jackets and expensive sneakers, looking as if they’d come straight out of inner-city Chicago. One kept pulling at his pants, which wanted to fall to the ground. Though he remained quite overweight, he’d clearly lost enough to drop a pant size or two.
The tallest—and widest—of the boys had a mocha complexion and a red bandana over his hair. He sidled up to the door, pulled something out of his jacket pocket, and huddled close to the lock. The other two boys, both slightly younger, one dark-skinned, one white, turned their backs to him on lookout for danger. The white kid stuffed his hands into the pockets of his starter jacket. A bundle of gold chains around his neck hung down to the middle of his chest.
Crap. They’re like twelve-year-olds. Dammit.
Harper mentally grumbled to herself for sitting on the ground, but she’d never have lasted long squatting before her muscles gave out. As quietly as she could, she shifted her weight onto her feet. The black kid looking in her direction turned his head, evidently having heard the rustle of the tree branches around her.
She jumped out from her hiding place, holding the shotgun sideways, unable to make herself aim at children. “Hey! What are you guys doing?”
“Oh, Laird Jesus!” shouted the one who’d been picking the lock while leaping away from the door and grabbing his chest.
His friends also jumped, though neither yelled.
Harper took a few steps closer. “Sorry for scaring you, but what are you doing?”
The big kid kept pressing his hands into his chest, wheezing. “You scared the shit outta me.”
“We ain’t want no trouble,” said the dark-skinned boy, still holding his pants up. “Just need something ta eat.”
“Where are you guys from
? We’ve been thinking someone in town’s been raiding the pantry. I don’t remember seeing you guys. Are you from the south half?”
“Uhh, no.” The lock-picker pointed a thumb back over his shoulder. “We got a camp little bit up in the hills. Natural walls. Good place to hide. Just comin’ down here for food.”
“Come on. You guys can stay here in town. Just gotta stop stealing. There’s no need for you to keep hiding out in—”
The white kid yanked a hand out of his jacket pocket and pointed a smallish handgun at her. “Yo. We’re leavin’. Gimme that shottie, nice an’ easy, an’ we gone.”
“Jimmy, what the hell, man,” whispered the lock-picker.
“Shut it, Darius,” said Jimmy.
Harper swallowed hard. Not that she wanted to shoot a twelve-year-old, but if she tried to pivot the shotgun at all, he’d probably kill her.
“Ju hear her?” asked the black kid. “Dude, chill.”
“I ain’t chillin’ T-Bone.” Jimmy took two steps closer to Harper, holding his gun higher, tilting it sideways. “Gimme the damn shottie.”
That’s the gun they stole from Kathy Bowden.
“Drop the gun or I’ma blow your nuts off!” shouted a small voice behind the boys.
The color faded from Jimmy’s cheeks. His fingers snapped open, letting the gun fall to the ground with a thump.
Harper trained the Mossberg on him. “Okay. All three of you against the wall, hands apart.”
“Aww, man,” muttered Darius.
The boys stood there grumbling in protest for a few seconds, but it didn’t sway Harper. They begrudgingly complied, shuffling up to the wall. As soon as all three had assumed the position, she looked for the child who had yelled.
Madison, wearing one of Cliff’s black T-shirts for a dress, still barefoot, stood on the curb behind the boys, holding a plastic flashlight in the manner of a gun.
“Dammit, Jimmy,” said T-Bone. “Now we f—”
Harper blared the air horn to call for backup.
All three boys yelled.
Darius lost his balance and fell on his butt. “Girl, you tryin’ta give me a heart tack? Dayum.” He fanned himself.
The World That Remains (Evergreen Book 2) Page 33