by Anne Corlett
“Fine,” Callan said. “Don’t be too long. I want to get on.”
“Is there any great hurry?” Lowry said. “We could always overnight here.”
“I want to get on,” Callan repeated, a little sharply. He shot a quick look at Garrett, waiting on the concourse. “Besides, the man’s courteous enough, but I got the impression he’d rather we just made the drop, refueled, and got going.” He turned to Mila. “You get what you need and meet us back here. The preacher can take his walk while Gracie refuels.” He looked at Jamie and Rena. “What about you?”
“I’ll go with Mila,” Jamie said. She glanced at Rena, remembering that brief touch of guilt from last night. “Do you want to join us?”
“I don’t need anything.” Rena didn’t look at her.
Jamie gave a mental shrug. She’d tried.
Finn was standing a little apart from the rest of the group, and Mila walked over to him. “Do you want to come?” she asked. “Or stay here?”
Finn looked out across the gray concrete of the concourse, then shook his head.
“Fine.” Callan started back down the gangway. “Those who are staying, keep out of the way. We’ll be unloading soon.”
When Jamie asked Garrett for directions to the store he was perfectly polite, but she could see what Callan meant. There was a definite coolness, and he didn’t ask them any questions about their own experiences, or what they knew of the situation elsewhere.
“You’d think they’d want to talk to us,” Mila said, as they walked down the alleyway he’d pointed out. “He doesn’t seem interested in us at all.”
“Not everyone likes to talk.”
Mila peered along an empty side street. “But where’s everyone else?”
“Maybe they’re working, trying to get the place up and running.”
“Maybe.” Mila kept looking around as they walked, as though she thought they might suddenly come across the other survivors, hiding around a corner with a banner saying Surprise!
They found the store on the corner of the main street. It was a surprisingly well-maintained building, compared with the industrial dinginess of its surroundings. Its frontage was clean, and the goods were arranged in neat displays behind the glass. Through the window they could see basic supplies in wooden cubbies along the walls, and fresh food arranged in shallow crates on top of a pile of pallets.
The door had one of those old-fashioned bells that jingled as they entered, and a man appeared through a door at the back. He was thin-faced, with gray hair receding from his forehead. He stopped still for a moment when he saw the two women, and then he smiled, his whole bearing becoming more relaxed for some reason. “You come in with the ship?”
“Just landed now,” Jamie said, but he must have known that. Funny how persistent it was, the need to fill empty spaces with words that added nothing of any substance.
“You staying long?”
“Just long enough to refuel and drop off some supplies.”
“The medicines,” the man said. “Handy that you had those on board.”
Jamie nodded. “We need a couple of things. Can we look around?”
“Feel free.” The man leaned on his elbows on the counter, watching them as they browsed.
“Any idea how many people have survived elsewhere?” he asked. “Garrett seems to think we might be unusual here.”
“It was just three of us on Soltaire,” Jamie said, picking out a couple of items from the cubbies. “And two on Pangaea.”
“What about the capital worlds?” the man asked. “Any idea what’s happened there?”
“Not yet.” She walked over to the counter. Mila joined her and put a few things down next to Jamie’s haul before pointing to the fresh food. “What about some tomatoes? And maybe some carrots and onions?”
The man was checking through the little pile on the counter. “I can do that for twenty.” He smiled. “I’ll give you a discount in exchange for that little update.”
“Twenty.” Jamie missed his meaning for a moment, and then she remembered. Money. It seemed about as relevant as the flimsy plastic counters in some child’s game. “You’re still using money.”
“Money or trade. But mainly money. No reason to change things about. Guess we’ll have to tweak the currency as time goes on. But we’ll figure it out.”
Jamie was staring at him. He raised an eyebrow.
“Sorry,” she said. “I’m just surprised.”
“Why?” the man asked. “It’s something that everyone understands. One of the basic rules of how we all live together. We keep those rules in place, things might just hold up until . . .” He broke off, looking uncertain for the first time.
“Until what?” Jamie said. “Everything’s changed. Even if we find a thousand people on Alegria, that’s not enough to keep the world working like it did before.”
“Some things don’t change.” His expression hardened a little. “So how were you planning on paying?”
“We may have something on the ship,” Jamie said. “What do you need?”
Mila suddenly spoke up. “Or we might be able to come to some sort of arrangement.”
When Jamie turned to look at her, the younger girl had tilted her head to look at the storekeeper, one eyebrow raised, her lips tilted in that same flirtatious smile that she’d tried on Callan.
The storekeeper did a perceptible double take, his eyes widening, and then he laughed.
“Oh, girl,” he said. “I’m a bit past all that. Not that it’s not a most enticing offer, but that’s not really the sort of goods I deal in.”
Mila looked down, her face slightly flushed. Jamie couldn’t work her out. Her first instinct was to offer her body when someone asked what she had that was of value, yet she wasn’t so hardened to the idea of sex as a transaction that she could accept rejection with equanimity.
The shopkeeper was speaking again, ticking things off on his fingers. “I could do with coffee powder. Milk and eggs, although I guess you won’t have much fresh stuff.” He looked around his shop, considering. “A few luxuries wouldn’t go amiss.” He gave her a lopsided smile. “A man cannot live on bread alone and all that.”
“Luxuries,” Jamie said slowly. “I may have something. Just give me a minute.”
She left Mila in the store and jogged back to the shipyard. There were a few more men standing around, and Callan was inside the entrance to the hold, speaking to Lowry, who looked unsettled. As Jamie passed, Callan reached out and caught her arm.
“Where’s Mila?”
“Still at the store. I’m just getting something. Storekeeper wants to trade for goods.”
Callan didn’t let go of her arm. “Be as quick as you can.”
“We’re in a hurry, I get it.”
Callan tightened his grip. “Just do it. Get what you need and get back here.”
He released her and turned to speak to Gracie, who had appeared from the back of the hold.
Jamie wasn’t sure what was behind the sudden urgency, but her heart had caught the rhythm of his edginess. It was beating a little harder as she retrieved the box of chocolate and headed back down to the hold.
As she passed Callan, he put his arm out again, turning his body to block the view of anyone outside.
“Here. Take this.”
“This” was a small, telescopic baton, like the ones carried by the capital’s security officers.
“What? No. Why would . . .”
“Don’t argue.” He pushed it into her hand. “Just put it in your waistband, out of sight. Please.”
There was something in his expression that made Jamie’s pulse pick up still more, and she followed his instructions without further comment. As she walked back across the shipyard the baton felt bulky and obvious beneath her shirt. There were a couple of men standing near the alleyway, a
nd one of them said something as she passed. She didn’t catch what it was, and she didn’t stop to ask. Even more than the baton, it was that please from Callan that had thrown her. He didn’t ask people to do things. He told them what he expected, and that was that.
Back at the store, Mila seemed to have gotten over her embarrassment and was chatting with the storekeeper. She had a dress in her arms, and when she saw Jamie she held it up against her. It was dark red and knee-length, made of some floaty, luxurious-looking fabric.
“Have you seen this?” she said. “There’s a whole crate of them.”
Jamie wanted to tell her to hurry up, but something held her back from showing her unease in front of the storekeeper. “Can’t imagine there being much call for dresses like that here,” she said, trying to keep her tone light.
The storekeeper smiled. “No. They must have gotten a shipment muddled up. When I opened the crate, that’s what I found.”
Jamie placed her box on the counter and the storekeeper leaned forward to look in.
“Yes, that should pretty much cover it.” He glanced at Mila. “Take the dress too.”
“Are you sure?” Mila stroked the fabric.
“Yes, go ahead. Like you said, it’s not like anyone here is going to be lining up for it.” His smile turned a little sad. “And besides, when you smiled at me before, it reminded me of the days when I might have taken you up on that offer of yours.”
When Mila brought the dress over to the counter, Jamie took it and started to stuff it into a canvas bag with the other bits and pieces. Mila reached over and pulled it back.
“Careful. It’ll get creased.” She rolled it up and placed it gently on top of the groceries she’d already packed into a small rucksack.
“We need to go,” Jamie said.
The storekeeper gave her a hard look. “Anything wrong?”
“We’re just heading off, that’s all. I don’t want to hold them up.”
The storekeeper glanced out the window to his right, as though something had caught his attention. “Yes,” he said, slowly. “You should get going.”
“What is it?” Mila said, tightening the rucksack on her narrow shoulders.
“Some things are in short supply here, that’s all.” The storekeeper raised a hand to them. “Get back to your ship, and safe journey.”
CHAPTER
9
Outside the store, Jamie broke into a jog.
Mila trotted along at her side, shooting anxious looks around. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know.” There was a prickle of goose bumps across the backs of Jamie’s arms as they hurried along the alleyway. “Callan . . .”
Two figures stepped out of a side entrance, almost blocking the way. Jamie couldn’t be sure, but she thought they might have been the ones standing at the edge of the shipyard earlier. They were fairly young, probably early to midthirties. One was dark-haired with a scratch of stubble along his jaw, while the other had the light skin that goes with fair hair, and a telltale scatter of blotches on his forearm, where he’d had moles removed.
“Hey.” The dark-haired one was straight in Jamie’s path.
She changed course slightly. If they just kept moving, the ship wasn’t far. And perhaps this was no more than a couple of young men doing what young men do. A little harmless flirting, and they’d be on their way.
“Hey,” she said.
Mila had tucked in close behind Jamie.
The dark-haired man shifted, blocking Jamie’s path again. The thumping in her chest became a series of hard hammer blows.
“Excuse me.” She kept her accompanying smile pleasant but distant.
“There’s no rush, is there?” He gave her an answering cool smile.
“There is, actually.” Her voice was too high. Behind her, Mila pressed a little closer. “Our captain’s permanently in a hurry.” She swallowed and tried to muster a more confident tone. “He’s probably on his way to chase us up right now.”
“Not very friendly of him. We were thinking you might like to stay a while. Get to know us.”
“Sorry.” Jamie tried to edge past. “I don’t think he’s going to be keen on that.”
“And what about you?” The other man moved again, so that she had to stop or walk straight into him.
“What about us?”
He tilted his head to look past her at Mila. “Are you in as much of a hurry as your captain?”
“I suppose so,” Jamie said. “We’re heading for Alegria. There should be more survivors there.”
“Garrett seems to think we’re better off here,” the fair-haired man said. “He keeps on about it. What a great setup we’ve got. But we don’t all agree with his way of thinking. Seems to us there’s one thing in particular we don’t have.” His gaze traveled slowly and deliberately down to Jamie’s legs, and back up to her face.
Some things are in short supply here, that’s all.
All the options flared in Jamie’s mind, along with a sharp certainty that whichever she chose it would be the wrong one. Fight. Flight. Freeze. Keep talking. Behind her, Mila drew a ragged, frightened breath, tipping Jamie into a decision.
She shoved the bag at the blond man and hurled herself forward, driving at him with her shoulder, trying to replicate the movement she’d often used on pushy cattle. As he stepped back heavily, she reached for Mila’s hand. The girl stumbled, then righted herself, and for a moment Jamie thought they were in the clear. Then Mila’s hand was jerked from hers as the girl went down, dragging the dark-haired man with her. Mila screamed, kicking out at her attacker, who was swearing and grabbing at her legs. For a second or two Jamie’s mind was a roiling mass of white noise and panic, and then an image flared: Callan’s face as he shoved the baton into her reluctant hand.
The other man was reaching toward her, but she twisted out of his grasp. Then the baton was somehow in her hand and swinging out, almost in slow motion. It came down on the dark-haired man’s skull with barely a sound, but he stopped scrabbling at Mila’s legs and folded in on himself, crumpling onto the ground.
Mila was sobbing and scrambling to her feet. As Jamie reached for the girl, a hand closed on her arm. She swiped wildly and felt the baton connect. The man swore and let go, and then Mila was up and they were running for the end of the alley, with footsteps coming hard and fast behind them.
Jamie didn’t stop when they got clear of the alleyway. She dragged Mila along with her, running for the ship. Callan was standing to the side of the bay doors, checking something. He straightened up as he saw them coming and turned to say something over his shoulder. Gracie appeared alongside him.
They were almost there. The rattle of their footsteps changed to a metallic clang as concrete gave way to the steel of the gangway. Then her arm was nearly yanked out of its socket as Mila stumbled and went down again. Jamie pulled the girl back to her feet, then froze.
Callan had his gun out, pointing it at something behind her. She turned slowly and saw another gun, in the not-quite-steady hand of a lad who looked no older than Finn.
“Don’t move.” The lad’s voice was shaking as much as his hand.
“What’s going on?” Garrett appeared at the edge of the concourse. “Davey. Put that gun down and don’t be stupid.”
“It’s not stupid,” the lad said. “It’s got to be done. You were going to let them get on their ship and fly off. Leave us here like this.”
“Like what?” Garrett spread his hands out. “We’ve got everything we need right here. What else are we going to do? Run off to whatever’s left of the capital worlds and beg for handouts? We can build something good here.”
“What’s the point?” The fair-haired man from the alleyway walked over to join the lad with the gun. “We stay here, and we’ve got no future. Not unless you’ve got some way for men to breed with men.”
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Garrett made an impatient gesture. “You’re talking a long way ahead. There’ll be other survivors. We make this place work for us, and other people will want to come make their home here.”
“How do you know?” the lad said. “What if everyone gets to the capital and decides to stay right there? What if there are no more ships?”
“Jamie.” Callan had to say it twice before she could drag her gaze away from the gun. “Get on board.”
“Don’t move.” The lad lifted the gun a little higher.
“Jamie.” Callan raised his voice. “Do as I say.”
Her whole body was cold, anticipating the bullet. It could go anywhere. With an effort that left her shaking, she reached for Mila’s hand and took a slow step backward up the gangway.
“No.” The lad pointed the gun straight at her. She froze again, her heart contracting hard and fast inside her chest.
“Boy.”
The gun swiveled toward Callan.
Jamie took a deep breath in and stepped backward again, as slowly and smoothly as possible.
“I’ll make sure people know you’re here,” Callan said. “When we get to the capital. They’ll need settlements like this.”
“And what if there’s no one?” the lad said.
“Then you’re on your own. Just like the rest of us.”
“You’re not, though.” The blond man spoke up again. “On your own, are you? You’ve got a nice little setup. A ship, a crew.” He paused, his face darkening. “Women.” He jerked his head toward Jamie and Mila. “Which one of them are you fucking?”
Jamie felt a tightening in the mood of the crowd. She risked another couple of steps. She was only a few feet from the doors, but the lad had noticed. The gun twisted to point at her again.
“Stop.” There was a desperate, hopeless note in his voice.
“No.” The storekeeper was standing at the entrance to the alleyway, a shotgun in his hands. “You stop.”