Initiation (Gypsy Harts #1)

by C. D. Breadner

  “Limited vegetation,” was the matter-of-fact answer. “Plants are nice to have around for many reasons. But they keep the temperatures cooler in the day and help hold some heat at night. Without them we only have the sun and dirt.”

  Again they did the hip-lift to pull the leggings up. It might have been her imagination, but she thought she might have actually done some of that lifting herself, her feet planted on the mattress for support. But then again, maybe not. It was hard to be sure.

  “What are you all?” the girl asked reluctantly. “Were you friends? Relatives?”

  “Doesn’t matter what we were before.” Em’s answer was blunt. “Now we’re the Gypsy Harts, and now we’re family.”

  Gypsy Harts. The girl kind of liked that.

  “Okay, so I saw a chair on the way in here,” Em was musing as she left the circle of light. When she returned she was pushing a wheelchair. “Here we go. Let’s go see what the girls have come up with for supper.”

  Em picked her out of bed as though she weighed nothing, and then set her down in the chair with barely a grunt. Perhaps she was quite thin now, but it was hard to be sure what she had been before. Other than that dream she’d been woken from, that is.

  Em pushed the chair for her, hanging the lantern from the handle of the chair as they left the room. The hallway was dark and cool, very much like a stone corridor should be. Especially if they were underground, which the girl was starting to believe.

  The next room was large, and with a few of the lanterns lit throughout the room the girl could see a small stretch of kitchen cabinetry with a few gleaming appliances, an arrangement of living room furniture, and a table with four chairs separating the two spaces. It could almost be a house, but this room was also devoid of windows.

  “They’ve even got canned ham!” the girl with the blonde-and-dark hairstyle exclaimed, holding up a can. “Man, I haven’t had ham since…well, since before.”

  “We’ll take it with us,” May decided, turning to Em and the girl. With a loud gulp the girl took in the true height of the woman, and from this angle she could see not only the knife strapped to her thigh but the belt with multiple blades tucked into place. When she turned away the girl saw the pistol at the small of her back and felt her eyes grow wide.

  “There’s beef stew, we’re heating it up in the nuke box,” the chipper woman went on. “A functioning microwave! How fucking cool is this place?”

  “Impractical to light a fire underground,” May mumbled, dropping onto a sofa and kicking a booted foot up onto the low table in front of her. “Hard to stay hidden with smoke flowing out of the ground.”

  “Hey, is this your sugar-daddy or your father?” This from the one that really seemed to not like the girl. She was holding a stand-up picture frame which she turned to the girl, all but shoving it in her face. “Tell me that’s your dad and he’s available. Because he is totally fuckable.”

  The words were lost because the girl was wrenching the frame away, bringing it right to her face. Her fingers traced the raw wood frame, the faces in the frame pulling her whole focus. That was the man from her dream, and next to him a young, thin blonde woman with the near-identical smile the man was directing at the camera. There was an old rusty pick up behind them, the man had his bent arm on the open window ledge. The girl was leaning on the body of the truck, foot propped up on the tire.

  “I think this is my father. This face … I was dreaming about it.” She looked up at Em, over her shoulder. “Is that what I look like?”

  The mean one snatched the photo back. “So trippy that you have no idea what you even look like. But yeah, this is you. Maybe five years ago with a few more pounds than right now.”

  The girl tried to grab her photo back but the mean one—Brit, they had been calling her—held it up too high. “Give it back to me,” the girl insisted, suddenly not so scared of this woman. She was mean, but only to those weaker. She was a bully, but bullies weren’t scary to the girl for some reason.

  “Come and get it,” Brit snarled back, turning away with the photo just to run into the girl with the two-tone haircut. “Out of my way, Coral.”

  Coral took the frame away without even blinking and carried it back to the girl. She handed it over without much ceremony, more like she was returning a toy to the loudest-whining child, but the girl grasped and looked up at the woman. “Thank you,” she said softly, clutching her prize to her chest.

  “Think you have a brother?” Brit asked, nonplussed to have been outplayed so simply. “If he looks like your dad, I call dibs.”

  “There’s canned stew,” Coral was saying, still staring down at the girl. “You should try and eat real food, get some strength.”

  “Watch the solid stuff though,” Em warned, pushing the chair towards the spot next to the sofa where May was still slumped, having watched the mini-drama without changing expression. “You might get sick if you eat too much too fast. Your stomach needs to adapt.”

  “What’s the last thing you remember?” May asked suddenly, dropping her foot back to the concrete floor and leaning forward on her elbows. “If you remember anything.”

  The girl shook her head, looking back at the photo. “I was dreaming, before I woke up. I was riding in a truck, with this man. We were happy, singing with the radio. It was summer. Very warm, the sun was shining.” She shook her head. “That’s it. I remember nothing else but that dream.”

  Em sat on the other sofa, her posture mirroring May’s. “What year do you think it is?”

  The girl looked up at Em, frowning. “Umm. I don’t know.”

  “You don’t need to learn motor functions or anything like that. So it’s all mental. I just wonder if there are basic remnants clinging to your rafters.” Em smiled. “Some people can guess the year but not their name.”

  She looked at the photo again, concentrating on the handsome, lined face of the man standing next to the truck. This was her father, she felt it. But as for details …

  “I don’t know,” the girl mumbled, raising her head.

  “I wonder how long you were out for,” May mused, locking gazes with Em. “How long before the bomb.”

  Em nodded, and the girl once again was on the outside looking in. Locked in her own inability to remember … “Wait,” she mumbled. “Is it … I think I remember something.”

  “What is it?”

  The girl shook her head. “I can remember signing. Something. 2013?”

  May nodded. “Okay. That’s something to work off of.”

  “But I’m not sure,” the girl rushed to add.

  May grinned. “There’s no wrong answers here. You might remember 2013. So let’s say that’s when you were knocked out.” May nodded back to Em. “Well before the bombs.”

  Em nodded. “When the threats heightened her old man moved her down here.”

  May nodded in unison.

  “What year is it?” the girl asked, looking from to the other.

  “The later stages of 2017, but no one’s keeping track of the dates anymore,” May answered without much emotion. Her cold eyes came back to the girl. “The bombs dropped late 2016. It’s been a year.”

  The girl’s eyes widened. “A year? And it’s still…chaos outside?”

  May looked a bit startled. “Honey, it’s going to stay this way. There is no law and order anymore.”

  “Don’t scare her,” Em said softly.

  “She should know,” May insisted, eyes never leaving the girl. “When tensions got high, the men, the good, strong, brave and true signed up and enlisted, cutting out to go fight the bad guys. Even the cops were gone, ready to fight back the evil.” May shook her head. “They left behind just as much evil, because no matter what people are shit and they’re just looking for an opportunity to get what they want. Take what they want, and fuck everyone else. The bombs just lessened the numbers. It was the wild west while we were waiting for the hellfire to rain down.”

  The girl felt like her spine was shrinkin
g under the intensity of May’s glare. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I don’t remember.”

  “I know,” May muttered, getting to her feet with a sudden surge.

  “I wish we could find something with your name on it,” Coral sang out from the kitchen area. The woman was so happy. How were these people friends? They were all so different. “I have no idea what to call you.”

  “I vote for Feebs.” Brit was suddenly behind the girl, leaning over her shoulder. “As in, feeble.”

  “Back off Brit,” Em snapped.

  “What about Ammie? For amnesia?” Coral’s suggestion didn’t seem any nicer than Brit’s had.

  “She looks like a Melody, or a Tamara,” May piped up, pulling the pistol from her waistband. The girl tracked the weapon, not sure if she’d ever been close to one before. May slammed the weapon onto the coffee table and sat back down.

  “I think she looks like an Anne,” Em suggested.

  “I like it. It’s close to amnesia.” At least Coral was appeased.

  “Anne it is,” May agreed, tilting her head the girl’s way. “So, Anne. You can decide your own fate. You want to come with us once the windstorm clears? Or would you rather stay here? Understand of course, we’re taking everything that’s in that storage room with us when we go.”

  That was hardly a choice.

  “If I can get walking,” the girl began cautiously. “I’ll come with you.”

  May nodded, appeased. “Good. Now we just have to figure out how you’ll be of the best use to us.”

  Brit stepped in front of May to flop onto the sofa on the far side. “Oh please. We all know the best use for her.”

  “Brit—” Em snarled, her face darkening.

  “Look at her,” Brit snapped back, hand thrust out at the girl. “We put her out for the highest bidder and we could stock up for a four-month winter.”

  “It’s all up for discussion,” May cut in, backing Em down with one look. “If she has no skills there’s only one way she can earn her keep.”

  “Not like that,” Em insisted. “She’s an innocent for all we know.”

  “Doesn’t matter if she is or not. She looks like one. They’ll love her.”

  The girl watched the three women, their tense looks and body language thoroughly confusing. Even over at the kitchenette Coral was keeping track, but she looked away when the girl caught her eye. “What are you talking about?” she finally asked.

  “In our commune everyone contributes,” May answered, eyes still on Em. “We’re scavengers. We go out looking for supplies. Brit here’s a good cook and Coral also helps with laundry. Em’s a nurse, as you know.” May chewed her lip. “So what are you?”

  Of course the girl had no idea what she could contribute. “I’m sure I can clean, cook. Whatever needs doing.”

  “What if she can’t walk?” Brit asked, her grin nasty. “She’ll be on her back anyway.”

  The girl’s skin crawled under that look and after that remark. She was worried she might understand what they were talking about, and she was hoping she was wrong. “What does that mean?” she had to repeat.

  “Sometimes men come by the commune,” Brit said, voice low, her eyes almost mocking the girl as she spoke. “They bring us meat they caught, grains. Clothing. Boots. Weapons. There’s only one way to pay them back for that. And there’s no use for money anymore.”

  The girl’s stomach turned. “You…sleep with them?”

  “I only sleep with who I choose,” Brit answered, grinning now. “But we have a few girls who don’t mind serving as payment for supplies. They’re not as picky about what they do with whoever that comes along.”

  The girl looked to Em to confirm that Brit was just teasing, but one second of study and she knew that this was real. The truth.

  “A small offering of peace as well,” May spoke up, as though she was trying to soften this. “We know these groups that we allow inside our walls. We trust them more than anyone else out in the world. It’s a tense truce, but we give them what they want, and we get something in return.”

  The girl’s heart was fluttering, a new kind of panic flaring up. “I don’t think I can do that,” she whispered, shaking her head. “I can’t.”

  “You don’t have to,” Em assured her gently.

  “As long as you’re not fucking useless,” Brit added, falsifying sincerity with that statement. “But if you can’t help out in any other way, that pretty little ass of yours is going to get used right up.”

  “Enough Brit,” May snapped with a sharp look. Then her face softened a bit as it returned to the girl. “We’ll find a place for you, I promise. But one thing you need to know; there’s no halfway with us. You’re all in if you’re in. We’d lay down our lives for each other, and we expect the same from you.”

  The girl nodded. It was easy to agree to anything at the moment. She had no idea what she would be living with or up against once they left, assuming they were honest about taking her with them. They could just kill her and take everything they needed.

  Yet, as Coral served up bowls of canned beef stew, she had a feeling that they were serious about her tagging along. As frightening as they might be, she got the impression they were the kind of people who protected the weak and helped the scared. That had to be what brought them together in the first place.

  A warm bowl was placed in her hand and Coral was smiling as she looked up to thank her. “Eat up, Anne,” Coral chided as she walked away. “Gotta be ready to kick ass tomorrow!”

  Chapter Two

  The girl woke again, confused as to where she was and why, but as she blinked and fought for focus there were memories that came back to her. Four women telling her that the world was a nightmare that raged overhead. And as May came into view with a sharp nod, she knew it was time to leave.

  During the hours before sleeping, her arms had gained strength. She had been able to pull herself into her hospital bed, and it had been under her own power that her legs swung up onto the bed with her. Walking might be a few days off, but it was enough to buoy her spirits.

  Now as May watched she got herself sitting, rotated her hips to dangle her legs over the edge, and reached for the arms of the wheelchair. May held it steady as she grasped the arms and hefted herself off the bed and dropped into the seat.

  May patted her shoulder. “Damn, Anne. Those legs will be back in no time!”

  It was hard not to smile, being so pleased with herself. So she didn’t fight it, she grinned up at the woman and wheeled herself down the hall to the main room. The place was a flurry of activity, boxes appearing out of nowhere overnight. Or so it seemed. They were all labeled with various types of canned food as far as she could see. There were also a dozen or so red jerry cans on the ground next to a door that stood open. A door she hadn’t even seen the night before.

  May set to helping the others carry out armfuls of supplies. The girl would have liked to help, but she was stuck in the chair and useless.

  When the boxes were cleared out Anne realized the women were all wearing what looked like combat fatigues; heavy canvas coats and pants with their heavy boots. They all had scarves wrapped around their heads, goggles at the ready, riding at their hairlines.

  “Now Anne,” May was saying softly, approaching her with a heavy coat. “You haven’t been exposed to any radiation yet. We’re going to keep you covered up real good, though. Maybe you won’t absorb too much of it. This is just like our jackets, and we can cover you with some blankets too. And I want you in a gas mask. The air is different out there now and I’m not sure how you’ll react to it. So we’ll expose you slow, okay?”

  Anne swallowed hard and nodded. With the help of Em and May she was soon wrapped in the heavy jacket with a dense blanket across her legs. The two of them carried her on their clasped arms up the stairs, Anne’s arms across their shoulders. She hated feeling so weak, but they didn’t once complain. It was even Brit who retrieved her wheelchair for her.

  Outside the
women all pulled their goggles over their eyes, and Em helped Anne with the gas mask. The air felt very dry—it seemed to affect her eyes almost immediately. The goggles of the mask were welcome protection, even if she felt trapped inside it.

  They had set her in the rear seat of a large black van, but it didn’t exactly resemble any cargo van she could conjure up from memory. The windows were lined with heavy bars, there was a large cage on the front that looked like it could toss anything out of its way without much effort, and it was running on tank treads.

  That gave her a second’s pause. As did the large machine gun on top of it.

  As the van began rolling, Anne cast her eyes to the very back of the vehicle. It was stacked high with all the boxes and clothing that had been inside the bunker where Anne had been sleeping. And right behind the bench she was sitting on was a stack of guns, tossed in casually like they were snacks for a road trip.

  A lot of guns.

  Anne turned forward again, her swallow sounding like a gulp. Next to her Em was studying her closely, and Anne tried to appear casual.

  “Your neighbors had a lot of guns,” Em explained, shouting to be heard over the noise of the vehicle. “Lots of guns. I think they had an internal dispute and killed each other.”

  A cold chill ran down her spine. She didn’t know who these “neighbors” might have been, but the way Em said it was coldly indifferent. Like it didn’t matter that a stack of dead people may have been left lying around.

  “Did you see them?” She wasn’t sure how clear her voice would be with this rubber mask on her face.

  Em nodded. “Dead quite a while. Didn’t even really stink too much.”

  “How many were there?”

  Em frowned, not understanding.

  “How many?” she asked louder, spaces between her words.

  “About eight.”

  Anne frowned. “Were there bodies where I was?”

  Em shook her head. “Nah. Your dad must have left to go find something, or someone. Couldn’t make it back. I think you were maybe alone for a few days.”