Jeb tried to look meek as they headed out of the warehouse, through the gate, and to the enclosure where the machete men were cooped up. A guard came down from the wall with the key. Keeping a close eye on the men inside, he unlocked the padlock and chain fastening the spools of razor wire together and opened it enough to let Jeb slip through.
Clyde pointed to one of the machete men. “You, come on out. I got some questions for you.”
Jeb almost let out a sigh of relief to see Clyde hadn’t picked the one who had spotted his little trick with the knife. The man shuffled out and the guard fastened the lock again. Clyde turned to Jeb.
“You just sit tight. Annette’s got a ton of stuff to do so you probably won’t be heading out for a couple of days. I’ll make sure you get full rations to bring your strength up.”
“What about us?” one of the other machete men asked.
“You’ll get what you’re given and be grateful for it,” Clyde growled. He turned to the man he had brought out. “Come on.”
Shit, he’s going to question us separately one by one.
Jeb managed to catch the machete man’s eye. One look was enough. The man looked away fearfully and bowed his head.
As Clyde, the prisoner, and the guard walked away, Jeb turned to the other three machete men and treated them to the same look. They all cringed. He stepped up close to the one who had seen the trick he had pulled with Leonard. He put his face inches from the man’s own, intruding on his space. The guy looked away and froze.
What wimps. No wonder we lost.
Jeb looked back at the wall, made of steel plates, rocks, and scrap metal. The base was a row of old buses filled with sandbags. It was the toughest wall they’d faced on their rampage across the wildlands, but they should have been able to take it. It was the fault of losers like this that they hadn’t, that and the willpower of the defenders. He’d always thought that the man with nothing to lose was the most dangerous; now he realized that actually the most dangerous man was the one who had everything to lose.
I want to live here.
He was surprised to feel a deep sadness that that was almost certainly not going to happen. It wasn’t just that this was the safest place, or that it had the most comforts and best supply of food. No, it was more than that. It was. . .
Fuck it. Focus on what you can get, not what you can’t. You aren’t going to live to be a hundred dreaming stupid dreams.
The sight of a young boy walking by gave him an idea. It was Annette’s kid, strolling along without a care in the world while tossing his baseball up in the air and catching it. He was heading for the gate and passing close by the barbed wire enclosure.
The boy glanced over at the prisoners. His and Jeb’s eyes met. Jeb put on a smile. The boy didn’t smile back.
“You hit a homer?” he asked.
The boy stopped and looked at him uncertainly. “No. I got a double, though.”
“Not bad. I used to get a ton of homers though thanks to my dad. Carved the best bats I’ve ever seen. Could hit a homer every time. He taught me how to carve my own. I make them as good as he did.”
The boy’s eyes lit up. “Really?”
“Hey Pablo!” the guard on the wall shouted. “Don’t talk to the prisoners. Get on going where you’re going.”
The boy hurried through the gate. He gave one last curious look over his shoulder. Jeb nodded to him.
Nicely played, Jeb. Watch your step, though, and go slow.
An hour later Clyde came and gave them dinner. He was good to his word and Jeb got a double portion. It was more than he and the other Elect got to eat on the march unless they had just ransacked a farm. Food was always in short supply for everyone except The Pure One and his bodyguards.
As he gobbled down his food he saw Annette and her son Pablo come out of the gate holding hands. Pablo glanced in his direction and he gave the kid a smile and a nod. Annette shot him an unreadable look that was neither hostile nor welcoming, more curious, and led her son into the outer city that she had referred to as the Burbs.
At least that was better than the last look she gave me.
He watched them go, a strange feeling inside him. How long had it been since he’d seen a mother and child walking hand in hand peacefully down a street? Sure, the street was a muddy strip running through a shantytown and the mother wore a pistol at her belt and a shotgun strapped to her back, but Annette was still a mother, and Pablo was still a child.
Lucky. Annette, you are so damned lucky.
A minute later a bell rang on the wall and a pair of guards closed the big gate.
Jeb frowned. So the people in the Burbs don’t sleep inside the walls, even with all these machete men wandering around nearby? And Annette had to check her guns before she could enter the gate, even though she’s sheriff.
Sheriff of the Burbs, not New City,Jeb reminded himself.There are two towns here, not one. Maybe moving to the Burbs wouldn’t be as hard as moving to New City. Plenty of scavengers in the Burbs, none in New City. Yeah, maybe it isn’t impossible after all.
Jeb thought about that a long time, drifting off to sleep and dreams of a little frame house tucked close to the walls, with a baseball diamond on the front lawn.
A sharp pain in the shoulder tore him from his fantasies. He blinked, looked around. He heard shouting. There was a whoosh of air as something flew in front of his face. Another whoosh of air and one of the machete men cried out in pain.
Jeb sat up. Not far off a crowd was shouting at them and throwing rocks.
“Maniacs!”
“Murderers!”
“String them up!”
The crowd drew closer. More figures hurried out of the Burbs, silhouetted by the few lights still burning there. Jeb guessed it was past midnight. Two more machete men got hit by flying rocks. Jeb curled up in a ball just as a stone ploughed into the earth near his head and spattered his face with dirt.
A rifle shot cracked through the air. Jeb clung to the earth, trying to make himself as small a target as possible.
The crowd stopped. Their shouting died down.
“Get back!” someone shouted from the New City wall. “These are our prisoners and we’re keeping them for questioning. Go back home.”
“These scum killed my brother!” one man shouted. He stood unsteadily, weaving back and forth with a rock in each hand. Jeb figured he was drunk.
“They were offered their lives if they surrendered and gave information. You don’t like it you can go talk to that new sheriff of yours,” the guard shouted back.
‘That sheriff of yours,’Jeb thought.Yeah, this really is two cities. They’re lucky they got their shit together before we showed up. The question is, will they be able to keep their shit together?
“Damn right I’ll talk to her,” the drunken man said. “Didn’t vote for that bitch anyway. I voted for Charley Shibell.”
An angry female voice cut through the night.
“That bitch didn’t want your lazy-ass vote anyway, Ross Poole!”
Jeb recognized Annette’s tough but unmistakably feminine form emerge from the darkness.
“Damn, you’re drunker than when I kicked you out of $87,953 a few hours ago. What hole did you crawl into?”
The crowd had settled down. Many backed off. Ross stood his ground, unsteady but determined.
“I don’t see why we’re keeping these sons of bitches,” he slurred.
“I could say the same about you,” Annette snapped.
“They killed my brother!”
“You haven’t talked to your brother since he stole your wife a year ago. You’re just looking for trouble,” she said and kicked him in the rear end.
“Hey!” he yelped and backed off. A couple of people in the crowd laughed.
That killed the tension. After a bit more shouting from Annette and the guard on the wall, the crowd dispersed. Annette came up to the wire.
“Everyone OK in here?”
“Yeah, none of us got
hit too bad,” one of the machete men replied.
“Thanks, Annette. Seems like you’re serious about upholding the law,” Jeb said.
“Lucky for your neck,” she snorted, yawning and rubbing her eyes. She turned and walked away back to the Burbs. For a second time that night Jeb watched her go.
Damn, what a chick.
Jeb rolled himself up in his blanket and tried to get back to sleep. He found it difficult. Every now and then he cast nervous glances in the direction of the Burbs, but that wasn’t what was keeping him up. It was thoughts of Annette. It had been a long time since he’d had a woman like that. During the march he’d gotten all the pussy he wanted, but it wasn’t the same. They’d either cry or lie there all stiff with their eyes closed like that nice little piece he usually took. What was her name? Donna. She’d kept him warm at night even if she acted cold. But a woman like Annette, well, that would be a whole different story. Probably fucked like a demon when she got the chance, which he guessed wasn’t often. With all her responsibilities and tough-girl attitude she was probably itching for it.
Who knew? His life had taken so many weird twists and turns maybe he had a chance.
Jeb finally drifted off to sleep, and this time he wasn’t dreaming about baseball.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Susanna gulped as Derren gave her a cold look.
“What the fuck is she doing here?” Derren asked his wife.
“She’s the new help,” Bridget said. “You said I could pick one.”
“Why did you have to pick the ugliest one?”
“What does it matter what she looks like? You have me!” Bridget shouted.
And then suddenly it became clear. For all Bridget’s stupidity and drunkenness, she knew what her husband was doing. Before the prisoners showed up, who had he been messing with? The neighbors’ wives? Prostitutes? Probably anyone he could, willing or unwilling. She looked at Bridget with equal parts pity and contempt. The woman was fighting back tears as she glared at her husband.
Derren ignored her. He gestured at Kent, who stood next to Susanna waiting to have his cut tended to.
“What happened to you?” he demanded.
“Tommy hit me!”
“Don’t whine like a little bitch. He hits you, hit him back twice as hard.”
Derren turned to Susanna. Her veins ran with ice.
“What are you waiting for? Patch him up!”
With a trembling hand she gathered up the cotton ball she had dropped, cleaned it in the hot water, and dabbed it on Kent’s cut.
The kid started squalling.
“Shut up!” Derren barked.
The child tensed, his face turning white. He didn’t move a muscle as Susanna finished cleaning his wound and wound a clean cloth around it.
“You keep that on until tomorrow morning, OK?” she whispered.
Kent slouched away without answering.
When she turned to look at the others she found Derren and Bridget sitting at the table, sharing the jug and not looking at one another. Tommy had taken the opportunity to disappear. Neither of his parents seemed to have noticed.
She busied herself with the roast as the room settled into edgy silence. Her mouth watered at the sight of the rich meat and all the trimmings, and her stomach ached to dive into it.
But she knew she wasn’t going to get any. She just hoped that she’d get her share of food once she got back to the barracks. It was getting dark outside and dinner would be served soon. A couple of decent meals had brought back her hunger with a vengeance. She felt like she could eat that entire roast all by herself.
“Is that done yet?” Derren growled.
“Just a minute,” Susanna replied.
“I expect my meals when I get home.”
“If you came home at a regular time they’d be waiting for you,” Bridget said, her voice coming out drunken and tearful.
“I was busy with the prisoners.”
Susanna couldn’t help but look at him then. He was looking right back at her with a smug smile.
I’ll kill you, she thought.
As soon as she thought it she knew she was lying to herself. She’d never killed anyone and knew she would never have the strength to, not even someone like Derren. She couldn’t decide if that was weakness or a certain kind of strength. In this world, it was certainly seen as weakness, but it had been people like Derren and Abe who had wrecked the world, dragged it from a civilization with cities and computers and lunar bases to one of dead rivers and acid rain.
Sure, they saw her as weak. Fine. If being decent counted as weakness, then she was proud to be weak.
Without getting up, Bridget told her where to find the plates and utensils and Susanna served dinner. Derren bellowed for his brats, who came slouching out from whatever hiding places they’d bolted into. The family started to eat in silence. Susanna busied herself in the kitchen area.
Once they were done eating, Derren told his wife to take Susanna back to the barracks.
“I’m tired!” Bridget whined. “I cleaned the house and took care of the kids all day. Why can’t you do it?”
“Sat on your ass drinking while watching her work, more like,” Derren grumbled. “But fine, I’ll take her back. I have to have a few words with her.”
Susanna’s heart raced.
“What do you mean?” Bridget demanded.
Derren laughed. He jabbed a thumb in Susanna’s direction. “You got nothing to fear with that one, trust me.”
Bridget snickered. Tommy made oinking noises and pulled up the tip of his nose to imitate a pig. Susanna blushed with shame.
Derren headed for the door, gesturing for Susanna to follow.
“Come on, back to the pigsty.”
They walked out into the late dusk. The first stars glimmered in a clear winter sky. The air felt chill after the warmth of the kitchen. Susanna was glad she still wore Eduardo’s clothes over her own. She buttoned both shirts up to the top buttons and put her hands in her pockets. Derren led her between two of the houses and around a corner.
Without warning he spun on her, grabbed her by the neck, and slammed her against a wall. He leaned his face in close, his teeth bared, mouth twisted in rage. The smell of liquor on his breath made her gag.
He held up a forefinger in front of her face.
“One word. Just one word to my wife about your little slut friend and I’ll cut your throat, you understand me?”
“O. . .OK,” Susanna whispered in a voice almost silenced with terror.
He grinned.
“You shouldn’t worry about her anyway. She knows how to survive. Today she gave me a blowjob for a loaf of bread. She’s still too thin for me to want to screw. Got to fatten her up first.”
Derren let go of her neck and slapped her upside the head.
“Come on, it’s fucking cold out here.”
He turned his back on Susanna and walked toward the barracks. She meekly followed.
As they walked Susanna realized he didn’t have his rifle. Instead he wore a revolver in a holster on his belt. He had his back to her and his gait was a bit unsteady from the drinks. If she was quick she could grab the pistol and shoot him, or hold him at bay and demand that she and the other prisoners be let free.
She hastened her step to close the gap between them. Derren didn’t notice. The gun was right there, just lunge forward and pull it out. Her hand edged forward. . .
. . .and she let it drop. No, she couldn’t shoot someone down in cold blood, not even Derren. She didn’t have it in her.
But I will get out of here. I swear it.
The barracks loomed before them, a slab of dark wood in the deepening shadows. A guard was distributing rations to the prisoners from out of a large pot. Susanna hurried to get in line, desperate not to miss her share. Derren let out a mocking laugh.
“See you tomorrow,” he chuckled, and turned away. Susanna noticed he didn’t head for home.
She got in the line of shuffling pr
isoners. It was stew tonight. From the smell it was vegetables. She didn’t kid herself to think there might be meat. Everyone got a big ladle full as well as a hunk of bread. Susanna sighed. It was less than Bridget gave her but it was better than nothing.
The guard called out, “From now on you’ll keep your bowl and spoon. You will be responsible for keeping them clean. If you lose them or break them, you’ll be punished.”
She made it to the front of the line, got her bowl and spoon and her share of the food, and went inside to eat it. In the dim light inside she made her way to her bunk, careful not to spill her meal. She sat down and ate. The soup was already tepid but she slurped it down and licked the bowl. It felt like no amount of food would satisfy her.
A voice came out of the darkness.
“Is that you, Susanna?”
“Donna?”
“Yes.”
A dark form moved from deeper shadow and sat down next to her.
“How’s your new job?” Donna asked.
Susanna sighed. She thought of telling her everything and decided against it. Derren’s boast clung to her mind like a smear of filth.
“It’s OK. Cleaning and cooking mostly. How was your work today?”
It was just light enough to see Donna bow her head.
“It was all right,” Donna mumbled.
Susanna edged closer to her friend. “Did that guard bother you again?”
Pause.
“No.”
“He told me—”
Donna’s voice came out despairing. “What does it matter, Susanna? I need to eat.”
“But you could say no, complain to Abe.”
Donna snorted. Susanna realized how foolish her words sounded.
“We’ll survive,” Susanna went on, changing tack. “They won’t let us starve. They need us to work, to build this secret city of theirs. You don’t need to let him do things to you just to get food.”
Donna sighed. “He’ll do those things whether I say yes or not. At least I’m getting something extra to eat. Jeb never gave me anything extra.”
Refugees from the Righteous Horde (Toxic World Book 2) Page 11