“Hi,” he said, his hands sweating inside his gloves. “I’m Zach. You might remember me from the other day? I came to make sure you are all settling in okay, and to see if Mr. Cooper is ready to begin some of his tests.”
He sucked in a breath to keep himself from babbling further. He hadn’t been prepared for the resistance he’d encountered from the Jugs, or for the fact that Cooper was clearly much more than just another survivor they had custody of until they could turn him over. Zach had to proceed carefully with these people or they’d take Cooper and bolt. Well, not bolt. They’d walk out, and there wouldn’t be a damn thing Zach, or the DPRP, or Perimeter Security could do about it. Short of shooting them, of course, which was an option of mutually assured destruction.
Zach blinked slowly, letting his sense of God’s guidance and wisdom fill his soul before he smiled through his mask. It probably wasn’t the disarming expression he’d hoped for, but the suit could be blamed for spoiling the effect. He remembered his own time in quarantine all too well and how disconcerting the copper-toned, polarized coating on the masks could be.
“Of course I remember you,” she said flatly. “Rhys is napping. He was too anxious to get much sleep last night, thanks to the shit you people tried to pull. You try to separate us from him again and we’re out of here, no negotiation, no second chances. Got it?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Zach nodded enthusiastically, and Xolani stepped aside to allow him to enter. He couldn’t begrudge her resentment. His limited association with the Jugs had been more than enough to allow him to witness firsthand how devastating congress’s decision to exile them had been.
The communal living quarters spread out before him as he crossed the threshold. Beyond them was a small hall that led to the bedrooms and lavatory. Normally, two small families or up to six adults would live in one of these units. It was useless to put furniture in a house that might have to be burned down if its inhabitants turned out to be infected, so the great room was sunken, with benches built in around the edge like a conversation pit. In their spare time, some of the citizens of the Clean Zone made cushions for the benches, to help make the newly arrived survivors more comfortable while they waited out their quarantines.
Around the dining table—also built into an alcove—three men sat with cards in their hands. They had paused their play, abandoning their game to fix their attention on Zach.
Their CO—the tall, forbidding black man named Darius—sat on one of the sleeping mats that would usually fill the bedrooms but were now spread around the living room floor. He had his assault rifle laid out on the mat in front of him and a small unassembled sidearm was in his hands as he cleaned it. On the mat beside him lay Rhys Cooper, curled into a fetal ball with his head almost in Darius’s lap.
For all his stature, Cooper looked young. Way too young.
Oh, yes. Littlewood’s interest made perfect, sickening sense.
“Rhys,” Xolani called softly, stepping over to him and crouching to touch his shoulder. “You got a visitor, kid.”
Cooper bolted upright, blinking at Zach in semiconscious alarm and distrust. Then he drew a shuddering breath and nodded, pushing himself to his feet. He pulled his shoulders back, standing almost at attention.
“Hello. Thank you for arranging for everyone to stay with me. I guess you want to start those tests now?” The greeting was stilted, abrupt. Like a kid trying to mask his nerves by appearing mature and dignified but falling short of the mark. Or maybe someone who had lived in isolation so long that he really didn’t know how to act with new people. He didn’t glance around at any of his companions, either, as if he were deliberately making himself face Zach without their backing.
Zach nodded soberly. “If you don’t mind. We have one of the bedrooms all set up for you. You can—”
“Thanks, but I saw that thing. The bed is barely wide enough for one person.” Cooper grimaced. “I’ll sleep out here, where I belong.”
Darius lifted his eyes at that and finished reassembling his sidearm while glancing up at Cooper’s back. It was only a split second, but in that unguarded instant before a stern, threatening look settled on his face, Zach saw everything he needed to see to understand that situation. Zach had seen similar looks before. He’d even been the recipient of them, once upon a time.
Much more than just another survivor, indeed.
“Um, if you would consider at least spending a few nights in that room, it would help us very much. The test animals are set up in there, well within the twenty-foot hot zone for airborne contamination. At least spend as much of the day as possible there, please?”
Cooper dropped his chin, sighing. “I’ll think about it. I’d prefer to just get this over with.”
Zach nodded again, holding out an arm to gesture down the hall. “After you.”
Cooper didn’t move. “Xolani?”
“Go on, Rhys.” Her voice was gentle, though Zach thought he heard a note of reluctance. They were paranoid, and the hell of it was that Zach couldn’t even blame them. “I doubt they’ll want a Jug near the test animals. If I happened to be wounded or menstruating, it could fuck up their whole experiment. But we’ll be right out here. If you need us, yell.”
“Okay, look.” There was understanding the reasons for their distrust, and then there was letting himself be the whipping boy for it. “I’ve been in the Clean Zone since before the overthrow. I know, probably better than anyone else here, that you Jugs have no reason to like or trust us. But I don’t devour unsupervised children or ritually sacrifice fluffy little bunnies, and I don’t mean Mr. Cooper any harm.” He swallowed, glad they couldn’t see his face. Technically, at least, the claim was true. “I’m just here to do some tests, okay?”
Six pairs of eyes all fixed on him, and from each set Zach thought he saw a spark of something other than mistrust. Dare he call it respect?
Then the grizzled one playing cards at the table with the short redhead and the giant of a man chuckled. “I think this one might actually be worth the powder and lead to shoot ’im dead.”
A ripple went through the room, and everyone relaxed in its wake.
“Maybe I should introduce everyone,” Cooper said, sounding less wary. “You know Xolani and Darius. That’s Titus.” He pointed toward the one who had made the quip and then to the man next to him. “And Toby, and the big guy is Joe.”
“It’s nice to meet all of you. I’m going to be around quite a bit, doing periodic tests and blood draws. I’m sure we’ll all get to know one another better in time.”
They each murmured a greeting, and Cooper drew a breath, then straightened his shoulders and preceded Zach down the hall.
Never had Zach been so grateful for his mask, which kept the blush threatening to incinerate him from showing. He cleared his throat and shifted, readjusting the position of his clipboard, checking the list of questions he was supposed to ask.
“I’m sorry, how many of the Jugs did you say you had intercourse with each day?”
He tried not to cringe at the intrusive questions. The Jugs’ report on Rhys had been classified, and he hadn’t even been allowed to see the questions the DPRP researchers wanted him to ask until right before he’d put on his suit. They obviously hadn’t been written by anyone with an ounce of tact. The only consolation was that Cooper was blushing nearly as vividly. “Um, I’d say an average of three while we were on the march . . . Once we got to base I’d say it was more like five or six. Not including Darius.”
“So you were exposed to Bane Alpha up to six times a day.”
“No. Probably closer to ten.”
Zach blinked. “But you just said—”
“I said I was with up to six Jugs a day. But I was usually with Darius at least two or three times, and sometimes the other Jugs would want to have sex more than once.” Cooper heaved a frustrated sigh. “Look, I’m really not comfortable talking about this, especially with a stranger. After a while, it wasn’t so bad, being with all of them, but I was gla
d when I didn’t have to be with anyone but Darius anymore. I don’t like to look back at the rest. Didn’t Xolani cover all this in her report?”
“I, um, I think the doctors wanted to confirm or clarify some of the details to better ascertain your level of exposure.” Zach shifted again. What Rhys was describing was very far from what he would normally find arousing, but it had been way too long since he’d been with anyone, which meant his body was primed like a teenager’s and any mention of sex was enough to get its attention.
He bowed his head, swallowing against the wave of melancholy that crashed over him. Even knowing why he had to be alone didn’t make it any easier, sometimes. He missed Nico so intensely it ached.
“How about for now I just document your physical condition, and if we need to go over more of the questions, we’ll deal with that later, once we’ve had a chance to become more comfortable with each other?” he proposed.
“That sounds good.” Cooper gave him a small smile that held a hint of warming. It seemed that Zach was making headway through some of the mistrust.
“Perfect.” Zach tried to make his own answering smile as inviting as possible. “If you wouldn’t mind stepping over here to the scale . . .?”
He took Cooper’s weight and height. Pulse. Blood pressure. Respirations. This part was easy. It wasn’t hard at all to slip into the familiar routine. Zach would always miss his days working to aid the sick and injured survivors, but he’d never been able to bring himself to go back to it. The people he’d trusted back then had betrayed him, turned their backs when he’d chosen to be with a Jug. They’d supported exiling the Jugs, forcing the separation he and Nico had suffered the last ten years.
Working for the DPRP wasn’t anywhere near the same. He didn’t get that sense of truly helping people. He was just a drone, doing busywork and keeping his head down and ears open. Still, it was nice to at least be in the position of dealing hands-on with a patient again, even if he wasn’t offering comfort and healing.
“Okay.” He straightened his shoulders and gave Cooper another smile. “I’m going to need to do a visual examination, report on the condition you appear to be in. The doctors will do a complete physical later, but for now, would you mind taking off your shirt, Mr. Cooper?”
Cooper nodded and drew a deep breath, then reached for his buttons. He wore the same fatigues as the Jugs he accompanied, no doubt scavenged from the military installations they came across in their travels. It made it harder to remember that Cooper was a civilian, a bystander who might be the recipient of a very special, very dangerous gift from God.
“You can call me Rhys, you know,” he said as he stripped off the shirt, exposing a healthy, well-muscled chest. Zach made a note that he appeared to be receiving good nutrition and had no visible maladies.
“Well, Rhys . . .” Zach’s voice died when Rhys turned and he got a look at his back. “Dear God!” A chill ran through Zach, followed by a wave of rage. “Who did this to you?”
“What?” Rhys peered over his shoulder and flushed. “Oh, that. It’s okay. I asked for it.”
“Rhys.” Zach gentled his voice and stepped forward, setting his clipboard aside as he laid a gloved hand on the young man’s shoulder, just above the welts. Some of them had at one point been open enough to scab over. It wasn’t Rhys’s first beating, either. Beneath the stripes on his back, Zach could see a few faint, silvery scars from previous whippings.
Damn. Any thought of using Rhys to trick Littlewood into exposing his scheme fled. He couldn’t possibly subject an abuse victim to what Littlewood’s keen interest in the young man might very well portend. “Look, I know abusers try to make their victims blame themselves, but no one asks for this. It’s not your fault. And if you want to confide in me, I’m here. Maybe I can help get you away from him.”
The crimson flush that had worked its way up Rhys’s pale shoulders and neck deepened. His voice was a reluctant mumble.
“It’s nice of you to be so concerned for me and all. I don’t expect you to understand, but it’s what Darius and I—” He turned, looking Zach directly in the face for the first time without a room separating them, perhaps getting his first good look past the coppery shimmer of the mask, and his hazel eyes grew huge. He paled and stumbled backward until he pressed up against the wall, staring at Zach in horror. “Darius! Xolani!”
Footsteps thundered down the hall, and the door crashed open. Zach found himself pulled away from Rhys and flung across the room, slamming into the opposite wall with enough force to knock the wind from his lungs and daze him. Within their enclosures, several ground squirrels and an opossum squealed and scrambled in alarm. By the time Zach cleared the fog from his head and tried to stand, Darius and Xolani were between him and Rhys, looking at him with blood in their eyes. The other Jugs clustered in the doorway, ready to lend aid.
“What’s wrong, Rhys?” Xolani asked, turning her attention away from Zach to look Rhys over, checking him for injury.
“What’s wrong?” There was a quaver in Rhys’s voice, and he was staring at Zach as if he were something out of a nightmare. “Look at his face. Look at him!”
Darius didn’t move, but Xolani stepped closer. Self-preservation told Zach to stay very still as she drew near enough to get a good look at him through his mask.
She hissed. “Houtman. You motherfucker.”
Zach licked his lips, quivering but otherwise motionless, as all five Jugs growled nearly in unison. “H-how did you know my family name? No one has called me that in years. I don’t think I’ve even used it, except when filling out the annual census.”
“How’d you manage it?” Xolani demanded, and Zach shook his head in confusion.
“Manage what?”
“Manage to arrange for Rhys to be summoned. Do you have that much pull with the DPRP?”
He swallowed hard. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Please. I haven’t done anything. I’m just doing my job.”
Her hand snapped up, grabbing his throat through the fabric of his suit and squeezing until Zach felt his air cut off. “You can start leveling with us or I can rip your fucking head off the way I did the last Houtman we met.”
Understanding dawned. Jacob! he mouthed, unable to speak with her hand closing off his airway. Her grip loosened just a fraction, enough to allow him to rasp, “You knew my brother? Please, I can’t—”
She released him abruptly, but she didn’t back down, and Zach wasn’t foolish enough to think for a second that she wouldn’t tear him limb from limb in an instant if she didn’t like what he had to say.
“Jacob was your brother?” Rhys asked cautiously, staying well behind Darius.
Zach nodded, wishing the suit wasn’t in the way so he could rub his bruised throat. “I haven’t seen him in years, though. Since before I left Indiana, before the overthrow. I couldn’t stay with my father and brother, so I made my way to the Clean Zone while they headed to the Northwest.” All of them eased off a fraction, though Zach by no means believed they had let down their guard. “Please. I had no idea you had met him. Or them.”
Xolani’s eyes narrowed. “I put all that in my report.”
“I haven’t read the report. It’s classified. Only the highest-ranking officials of the DPRP have access to it.” Zach straightened a little more, meeting her eyes. “I’m just a tech. They told me to draw some blood, gave me a list of questions to ask, told me to do a preliminary exam. That’s all.”
It was Rhys whose gaze Zach sought, and after a moment, the tension left Rhys in a visible rush. “I think he might be telling the truth.”
Darius glanced back at him before glaring at Zach again. “I want the whole story.”
He nodded eagerly. “Of course. But, if you don’t mind, can we go out to the other room? It’s a little crowded in here, and as Xolani observed earlier, you’re really not supposed to be around the animals . . .”
Darius watched everyone filter into the communal great room, finding seats at cautio
us distances that conveniently kept Zach Houtman away from Rhys and cut him off from the door, if necessary. Getting a read on his people was easy. It was a sign of how stressed they were at being in the Clean Zone, bringing Rhys in for testing, that all—for a split second, at least—were ready to murder a man simply for his resemblance to someone else.
Of course, no Jug in this room had reason to give two shits about any Clean Zone citizen, and all of them had particular cause to hate Jacob Houtman. That slimy motherfucker had not only terrorized Rhys but he’d murdered one of their brothers. They had all felt Kaleo’s absence in their squad every day of the last two years. They’d all watched Schuyler, once one of the most resilient soldiers in Delta Company, sink into bitterness and grief. Kaleo had been a light in the darkness for them all.
Rhys set himself apart as they settled in. Not only from Zach, which was to be expected, but also from Darius. He had his hands clenched on his knees, as if to stop himself from fidgeting, and he was giving Zach a stubborn stare Darius recognized.
I’m not the terrified kid who walked away from that monastery, it said. I can protect myself now.
He’d seen that expression on Rhys’s face a lot these past couple years as he’d grown stronger and more confident. He’d built up his body and learned to fight, yes, but more importantly, he’d learned to stand up for himself. He’d faced off against Jugs who didn’t believe he belonged with them, and he’d proven his worth.
Darius’s boy had become a man.
“Will you tell me what happened to my father and brother?” Zach asked, managing to look nervous despite the hermetic suit. “The last time I saw them was in Indiana. My father and I had a falling out when I helped another survivor who needed shelter.” He paused, and his hooded head bowed. “Father wanted to kill him, but I wouldn’t allow it. I hid the ammunition, and my father tried to lock me up and starve me until I told him where it was. I escaped and left with the other survivor, and that was the last time I saw them.”
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