Doom Days

by Beaman, Sara

  “Anything else?” Isaac asked.

  Rina hesitated, unsure whether to mention Gretchen’s dealings with the Sisters of Mercy. If it were anyone other than Gretchen she’d already have told him. But Gretchen played her cards close to her chest, and Rina wasn’t sure it would be smart to say anything about Joy, even to Isaac.

  “Like, for instance,” Isaac continued, “maybe you wanna tell me about that little girl you brought home last night?”

  So he already knew. “Who told you?” Rina asked.

  “I have sources.”

  “It’s not really my business,” Rina said. “If you want the whole story, you have to talk to Gretchen.”

  “You need fuel?” Isaac asked.

  “Not that badly,” Rina said.

  Isaac grunted. “I can respect that,” he said, and Rina let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

  After Isaac gave her a bottle of fuel, Rina headed over to Granny’s Kitchen. The electric ovens were off this time of day, so Len was nowhere to be seen. Rina continued around to the back of the kitchen, where Len’s wife, Imelda, ran the solar ovens. The yeasty smell of bread drifted out, warm and inviting.

  “Hi, Imelda,” Rina called.

  “Rina! Good to see you!” Imelda said.

  Rina wasn’t fooled by the hearty greeting. Behind that cheerful grin lurked the heart of a predator. Bargaining with Imelda was a pain, but it was part of living in town, like sleeping on a good mattress or drinking well water. Maddie used to joke that bread tasted better in Thorn Creek because you had to go to such effort to get it.

  “I’m picking up Calliope’s bread,” Rina said.

  “It’s awfully late,” Imelda said. “I didn’t think you were coming.”

  Bullshit, Rina thought, but she kept a smile on her face and said, “Well, here I am.”

  “I might have a leftover loaf,” Imelda hedged. “It isn’t fresh, of course, but it’s better than nothing. I could let you have it cheap.”

  “How cheap?”

  “Half a dozen eggs.”

  “I’ve only got three.”

  “Three eggs’ll only buy you half a loaf.”

  “Okay,” Rina agreed. “I’ll take the half loaf. Along with Calliope’s standing order.”

  Imelda blinked. “This is instead of the standing order,” she protested.

  “Nope,” Rina said cheerfully. “The half loaf is for me. The fresh loaf is for Calliope and the kids. Don’t give me that look,” she said as Imelda scowled at her. “Look, I brought you a fish and two yams.”

  “Calliope usually gives me half a dozen eggs and a bar of soap,” Imelda grumbled, but her eyes lit up at the sight of the fish, and Rina knew she was pleased with the deal.

  As she wrapped the bread in a piece of cloth, Imelda kept up a steady monologue about how generous she was being, how lucky Rina was to have caught her in a good mood, and how grateful Calliope ought to be to get her regular order so late in the day. Rina managed not to roll her eyes and pasted a smile across her face as she accepted the bread and handed over the eggs, fish, and sweet potatoes.

  “I’m surprised you’re willing to part with a whole fish,” Imelda commented as Rina was turning to leave. “After all,” she said, peering slyly over her glasses, “you have another mouth to feed now.”

  Rina stopped in her tracks. It wasn’t surprising that Isaac knew about Joy. Isaac had a way of knowing things other people didn’t. But if Imelda knew it would be all over town by evening. Caleb and Javier must have opened their big, dumb mouths. Gretchen was going to skin them alive.

  “I heard Calliope’s sisters sent her another kid,” Imelda probed.

  “Something like that,” Rina said. She tucked the wrapped bundle of bread under her arm, waved good-bye, and hurried away to avoid being interrogated.

  ****

  “Gretchen’s gonna be pissed,” Trey said. “If people find out the Sisters pulled a fast one on her-” He finished his sentence with a low whistle, then repeated, “She’ll be pissed.”

  They were mucking out the stalls together, while Trey’s father, David, made dinner in the house. Rina had given him the last sunfish and the two remaining yams, overriding David’s protests that he was perfectly capable of doing his own damn fishing, thank you very much.

  David had one of the few working fireplaces in town and a steady supply of fuel, thanks to the horses, so he cooked most of his meals at home. That was fortunate, since his arthritic hips made it difficult for him to walk to and from Granny’s Kitchen on a regular basis these days. Trey never talked about it, but Rina knew he worried about David when he was out riding the circuit. She also knew the old man would have a fit if Trey stayed home to take care of him. The best Trey could do was make sure to do all the most physically demanding work of maintaining the stables.

  Over the past few months, Rina had fallen into the habit of helping muck out the stables after she’d finished her own chores. Trey was good company, despite his annoying tendency to mock her. And he was also one of the only people in town who understood how she felt about being a rider. Most people thought it was crazy to ride the circuit, risking bandit attacks and sleeping on the ground for days on end just to deliver packages. Not even the outriders understood. When they left Thorn Creek, they were armed and unencumbered by bags of mail.

  Rina knew Trey took the same pride and pleasure in riding the circuit as she did, just as she knew that Javier and Caleb liked riding because it was a way to escape the hard work of farming. Trey was the only other person who understood how good it felt to bring news and mail and much needed supplies to the isolated little settlements.

  Zeke would understand, the voice in her head whispered. She dismissed the idea. It didn’t matter how Zeke felt, because she was never going to ride with Zeke. He was Gretchen’s original rider, and he rode alone. He always had.

  You never know, that treacherous little voice persisted. Zeke might be tired of riding by himself. She squashed that train of thought. Even if she wanted to partner with Zeke instead of Trey – which she didn’t, she told herself firmly – it wasn’t an option. He didn’t need a partner and she didn’t need the hassle.

  “I asked what you think Gretchen’s gonna do,” Trey repeated, and Rina realized she’d been ignoring him, lost in her own thoughts.

  “Other than be pissed as hell?” Rina asked. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “If we can’t convince the Sisters to fix this, she’ll be in a tight spot.”

  “What do you mean we?” Trey asked. “This is Gretchen’s problem. Let her handle it.”

  “Gretchen’s sending us back out to negotiate with the Sisters of Mercy tomorrow,” Rina said. “Didn’t she tell you?”

  “She isn’t sending me,” Trey said.

  “Yes she is,” Rina insisted. “Javier and Caleb are riding the regular circuit tomorrow, so they can’t go. And I don’t ride alone. If you don’t go that means…” Her voice trailed off as she realized what it meant. “Shit,” Rina said.

  Trey stopped shoveling manure and stared at her.

  “You and Zeke?” he said. “Is that why you’ve been so weird lately?”

  “Shut up,” Rina said. She could feel the heat rising in her face and she cursed her pale skin for betraying her. Why couldn’t she have an olive complexion like Trey?

  “Are you two together?” Trey demanded. “Or was it just a one-time thing?”

  “We are not having this conversation.”

  “Oh, yes we are,” Trey said. “Damn it, Rina, I was worried about you. Gretchen was worried about you. And all this time it was just a fucking crush?”

  “It isn’t a crush,” Rina said.

  “Then what is it?”

  A colossal mistake.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Oh, shit, Rina,” Trey said. “Do you love him?”

  Yes.

  “No.”

  “Does he love you back?”

  No. Maybe. Probably not. Oh, hell.r />
  “Nobody is in love. Nothing happened. Nothing is going to happen. And it’s none of your business, anyway.”

  “Fuck.” The word was full of sympathy. “What are you gonna do?”

  “Nothing,” Rina snapped. “I said I didn’t want to talk about it, so just shut up, okay? There’s nothing going on between me and Zeke. He’s Maddie’s boyfriend.”

  “But Maddie’s…” Trey’s voice trailed off.

  “Say it,” Rina dared him. “Tell me my cousin is dead. Tell me she’s never coming back. Tell me that makes it okay that I slept with her boyfriend!” She was breathing hard, shaking with the force of her emotions, clutching the shovel so hard her fingers were white.

  “You slept with him?” Trey said. “Holy crap. No wonder you’re a wreck. Most people hold hands, kiss a little, then eventually work their way up to having sex. But you skipped straight to the main event, huh? I’m not criticizing,” he added hastily. “I’m actually kind of impressed.”

  “Don’t be,” Rina said. “It was a mistake, and it won’t happen again.”

  “Why not? Was it bad?” Trey asked. “Zeke seems like the kind of guy who’d be good at sex. Was it you? Were you bad at it? Never mind. I don’t want to know.”

  “Nobody was bad at it,” Rina said.

  “Then what’s wrong?” Trey said. “Most people are happy after they have good sex. Most people don’t mope around and worry their friends.”

  “Most people don’t sleep with someone else’s boyfriend,” Rina said.

  “The amount of shit in this barn just tripled,” Trey said. “You didn’t sleep with Maddie’s boyfriend, because dead people don’t have boyfriends. Yeah, she’s dead,” he continued before Rina could unleash the angry retort that sprang to her lips. “And yeah, that sucks. But, Rina, I hate to tell you this, Maddie wasn’t a saint. If the situation were reversed she’d be on Zeke faster than strangle runner can spread.”

  Rina stared at him, open-mouthed. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” she said in a low voice, trembling with rage.

  “I know you don’t want to hear this,” Trey said, “but you need to listen to me, Rina. Maddie was funny and smart and pretty. But Maddie was also kind of a bitch. And everyone knew it but you.”

  “She rescued me,” Rina said. “She looked after me and protected me. Trey, you don’t know what it was like growing up at the University. Maddie wasn’t a bitch. She was tough. She had to be. I wouldn’t have survived without her.”

  “Maybe that’s true,” Trey said. “But just because you’re grateful to her, that doesn’t mean you owe her the rest of your life.”

  “Yes it does!” Rina said. “That’s exactly what it means. When someone saves your life, you owe them. Forever. You of all people should understand that.” She flushed, knowing she was overstepping a deeply personal boundary, but too angry to care. “Would you be mucking out this stable if you didn’t owe David the same debt I owe Maddie?” she challenged him. “I’ve heard the stories, Trey. How David took you in when they found you half dead. How he nursed you and fed you and saved you. And now you owe him your life. You owe him.”

  “No,” Trey said softly. “I don’t owe him anything. I love him.”

  “Well, I love Maddie,” Rina said.

  “I know,” Trey said. “But she didn’t love you back. Not the way you loved her.”

  His words hit her like a punch in the stomach. Rina took a step back. “That isn’t true,” she said.

  “You know it is,” Trey said. “How many times did Maddie sweet talk you into giving her something you wanted? How many times did she convince you to do stuff for her?”

  “We looked out for each other,” Rina said.

  “No,” Trey said. “You looked out for Maddie, and Maddie looked out for Maddie. I know you thought she was perfect, but she had flaws. She was selfish and bossy. I liked Maddie, but I like you more. And I hate to see you turning your back on a good thing because of some weird loyalty to a ghost.”

  “You’re an asshole,” Rina said. She dropped her shovel, grabbed her bread from the shelf where she’d set it, and turned to go.

  “There’s a bag of dried dung outside,” Trey said. “I know you’re mad at me for giving you shit, but … well, don’t forget to take the shit I’m giving you.”

  Rina whirled around and glared at him. “Why do you have to make a joke about everything?” she demanded. “I try to talk about something serious and you say awful things and make jokes and …” She was crying too hard to speak, tears sliding down her cheeks and dripping off her chin.

  “Aw, Rina, hey, don’t cry,” Trey patted her awkwardly on the shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry for being an asshole. Don’t cry.”

  “I’m … not … crying,” she sobbed.

  “Okay,” Trey said and kept patting her shoulder. “It’s gonna be okay.”

  ****

  Rina’s jeans were mostly dry when she pulled them on early the next morning. She slung her pack over her shoulder and slipped out of the silent house, pausing only to take a drink of water and grab an extra apple from the cupboard.

  “Need a lift?” Zeke asked. He was waiting outside her front door astride Glue’s dam, Betty.

  “I can walk,” Rina said.

  “I know,” Zeke said. “But it’s faster if you ride.”

  “I told Gretchen I’d go by myself,” Rina said. She began walking toward the town gates.

  “She told me,” Zeke said.

  “Then why are you here?” Rina asked.

  “Because I don’t think you should get robbed and beaten and sold to slavers just to spite me,” Zeke said.

  Rina didn’t answer him. They walked silently out of town and down the road. Zeke didn’t try to make conversation and Betty was content to amble along at Rina’s pace. It took them over an hour to walk the four miles to where Abigail was. Rina felt her heart lift when she spotted the mound of brush marked by the little pile of stones. As she drew closer, her heart sank as she realized the brush had been pulled aside.

  Abigail was gone.

  It took a minute for the shock to pass and the truth to sink in. Someone had taken Abigail. The bike she’d spent weeks lovingly restoring after Maddie died. The physical manifestation of her own freedom. It was gone.

  Rina began cursing softly, under her breath. She kicked the brush and cursed louder. She screamed every foul word she knew, in six different languages. Finally, she fell silent, breathing hard, staring at the spot where Abigail should have been.

  “That was impressive,” Zeke said.

  Rina didn’t answer.

  “Want to ride now?” he asked.

  She climbed on behind him, seething with rage.

  “You have to hold on,” Zeke said, and she wrapped her arms around him, doing her best to maintain a space between their bodies.

  Don’t even think about it, she told herself, but she was already so wound up over the loss of Abigail that it was hard to calm down. The anger was still there, but now it was all mixed up with lust. Heat coiled low in her belly and every nerve in her skin buzzed with hungry anticipation.

  No, she told her traitorous body and her nerves answered gleefully, Oh, yessss.

  It was going to be a long ride.

  Fortunately, Zeke didn’t try to start a conversation, so she didn’t have to form coherent thoughts. Unfortunately, without anything to distract her, all her senses were suffused with Zeke. She caught herself staring at his shoulders, and squeezed her eyes shut to stop herself from fantasizing about kissing the nape of his neck.

  Closing her eyes was a mistake. Now that she couldn’t see him, she realized she could smell him. He smelled like wood smoke and clean sweat and something spicy and dark and inexpressibly male. She wanted to press her face against him and inhale that scent. Wanted to lick it from his skin.

  This is wrong, she told herself. But then she remembered what Trey had said and she didn’t know if she really believed
that, anymore.

  ****

  With a fresh horse, good weather, and no mail weighing them down they made good time, but the trip still took most of the day. Rina eventually managed to relax enough to enjoy the ride. Usually, she was too busy maneuvering Abigail over the rough and unpredictable terrain to appreciate how pretty the landscape was.

  Looking around now she saw the trees still clinging to the last of their autumn leaves, the cloudless slate of the sky, and the shivering of the grass that hinted at the presence of little scurrying animals: rabbits, birds, squirrels. Even the broken asphalt and the dilapidated buildings covered with strangle runner held a certain, decaying charm, the austere beauty of abandoned things.

  Rina had heard enough stories of the pre-Collapse world to know life had been more comfortable back then. But she had a hard time imagining what it must have been like when this road had been full of vehicles and flanked by intact buildings. She couldn’t picture that many people, traveling and working and living so close together, people everywhere, like a swarm of hornets.

  “I wonder what this place used to be like,” Zeke said, startling her with an echo of her own thoughts.

  “I never thought about it,” Rina lied.

  “Really? I think about it all the time. It’s strange to think of so many people, all in one place. I don’t know if I would’ve liked it.”

  “You don’t have to make conversation,” Rina told him. “You can pretend I’m not here.”

  “Not possible,” Zeke said. Something in his tone made her flush, and she was glad he couldn’t see her face. “Besides, I like talking to you,” Zeke continued. “You see things differently from most people.”

  “Everyone sees things differently from everyone else,” Rina said.

  “See, that’s what I’m talking about. You’re the only person I know who would say something like that.”

  “I’m glad I’m such a source of entertainment for you.”

  “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

  Way to go, Rina congratulated herself. It took you less than five minutes of conversation to irritate him. Keep it up and he’ll never want to talk to you again, let alone …

  She didn’t let herself pursue that train of thought. If Zeke lost interest in her that would be a good thing. It would mean she could stop feeling so guilty all the time.