“Four. They found Bettie and Megan alone. I showed up a second—”
“Megan?”
“She’s fine. When I showed up, a guy with a hatchet went for Bettie. I shot him, and the rest scattered.”
Cameron motioned Hernando to her and put the bandage back on the arm. “Hold this on. Pressure. Hard.”
Hernando pushed, and Bettie winced. “Sorry,” he said.
“It’s fine,” said Bettie.
Cameron went and got her medical bag, digging through it to pull out a needle and thread, alcohol and swabs. She returned and pushed Hernando gently aside. Removing the bandage once more, she cleaned the wound and began to stitch it shut.
“Sorry I don’t have anesthetic.”
“I’m all right,” said Bettie. “I’ve had kids. You know this ain’t nothing compared to that.”
Cameron allowed herself a smirk. Everyone waited in tense silence while she finished. When it was done, she wrapped the gauze right around the wound and taped it shut. She stood and went to the sink, washing the blood from her hands. She gave Scott a look.
“Bettie and Megan shouldn’t have been alone,” she said.
“I know,” said Scott. He ducked his gaze, looking down at his feet with his hands on his feet. “I’m sorry.”
“That can’t happen again.”
“It won’t.”
She sighed. “All right. It’s hardly the worst thing to happen today.”
Hernando frowned. “What happened? Someone get hurt while you all were out?”
Cameron’s jaw clenched. “We’ll talk about it later. Right now we need to figure out some things on security. Bill’s not in charge anymore.”
“Is he …?” said Bettie.
“A goddamn idiot? Yes,” said Cameron. “I said we’ll discuss it. You need to rest. Hernando, help me get her to bed.”
“I don’t need to go to bed,” said Bettie. “We’re planting peas and I—”
“Doctor’s orders,” said Cameron. “Hernando.”
They got her to bed despite her protests, and Cameron assigned Gina to watch her. Gina did it willingly, sitting by Bettie and striking up a conversation at once. That eased Cameron’s mind a bit, made it easier for her to leave and not hover.
Back out in the living room, a few of the others had gathered. Russell and Ken had arrived, Bill in tow. He wasn’t tied up or anything, but he definitely had an air of a defiant prisoner, and Russell beside him looked like a guard ready to restrain him at a moment’s notice.
“Bill, you’re off all work duties. You’ll stay in your cabin and do whatever the hell you want, but you’re off the teams. Food will be brought to you.”
His eyes flashed. For a second she wondered if he was going to mouth off, and for another second she hoped he would. She wasn’t too proud to admit to herself she’d enjoy kicking his ass. But instead he only scowled down at his boots.
“Russell, take him,” said Cameron. “And when you get there, search his cabin. Make sure he doesn’t have any more guns hidden away. If he does, take them. You’re the new head of security. We’ll figure out what to do with Bill later.”
He blinked. “All right. But what about hunting?”
“We’ll figure it out,” said Cameron. “Take him, please.”
Russell got Bill out. Cameron sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. She gave herself a moment to breathe, and then she turned to address the rest of the group.
“We ran into someone else foraging for supplies. Bill shot him.”
There was a collective intake of breath, and then the room went silent. After a moment, Ken spoke up. “Did the guy, like, attack you? Or—”
“He was running away,” said Cameron. “He didn’t do anything. Bill just shot him. Today some of us were attacked by other people desperate for food and supplies. They were the bad guys, and we kept ourselves safe. But we were the bad guys in someone else’s story, and they weren’t as lucky as Bettie was.”
No one answered that. The rain intensified, slamming down on the roof like a swarm of locusts.
“The world’s gone to hell, and I doubt this is the last time something like this is going to happen,” said Cameron. “But we need to make sure we stay the good guys. As good as we can be. If we can help someone, we will. But mostly, we look out for each other. As of now, every one of you has a job: keep the community safe, and keep everyone in it alive. We all keep doing our jobs. But that’s the reason behind everything we do. Got it?”
There were nods, murmurs of assent. She hadn’t seen a group look so frightened since Iraq.
“We’re going to be fine. As long as we look out for each other, we’re going to be fine. And I am going make sure of it. I promise.”
She said the words without thinking, and her gut did a turn. There it was—a promise of safety, the thing she’d been avoiding ever since her first inkling that this crazy storm wasn’t some temporary thing. But now it was said, and she couldn’t take it back. They all looked at her, and she saw the relief spread across their faces, almost palpable.
“Let’s get back to work,” she said. “Come on, chop chop.”
They stepped to it. She waited until everyone was gone. Then she sat in the living room’s plush armchair, burying her face in her hands.
CHAPTER 22
A scream woke Cameron in the middle of the night.
She was awake like a shot, from a light sleep to standing in the middle of her bedroom in less than a second. Her brain took a second to process what had woken her, and then she ran to Bettie’s room. But the old woman was sitting up in her bed, alive and unhurt, her eyes wide.
“Outside.”
Cameron ran almost before Bettie said the word. She was in pajamas and didn’t bother with anything heavier, just threw on a raincoat and boots with no socks. The screams had resumed, and they were clearly a man’s—and far off. Almost without thinking about it, she scooped up her rifle as she ran out into the night. The rain had let up, thank god, and so she listened again.
Another scream, near the front gate. It was muffled. Inside a cabin. She ran for it.
Others appeared out of the darkness. She saw Scott, Wade, both of them running the same direction as her. Then Hernando, who carried a shotgun—he was on guard duty, Cameron remembered. He must have been on the other side of the cabin community when the noise started.
The screams were coming from Bill’s cabin. The front door was slightly ajar. Even as she kicked it in, thoughts raced through her mind: bear, wolf, looter? She’d never been in the place before, and it stank. One more scream sounded, from the back on the first floor. The bedroom. She ran to it and kicked open the door.
There was Bill, lying on the bed. He was soaked in his own blood, clutching at his stomach.
Over him stood Gina, holding a carving knife. She, too, was blood-soaked, and Cameron knew at once that none of it was hers.
Cameron leapt at Bill and rolled him over, trying to get at the wound in his stomach. But Gina screamed and went at her, grabbing her shoulder with a free hand and trying to pull her off.
“Don’t! Let him die! Let him die!”
Wade was there in an instant, pulling Gina away. In one smooth motion he snatched the knife from her hand and threw it at the wall. It embedded itself in the wood, quivering. Cameron tried to lift Bill’s shirt off the hole in his stomach, but he was screaming and writhing too hard for her to see the wound.
“Hold still. Still!” said Cameron.
Bill ignored her. He looked past her to where Gina stood, now with Wade holding both her arms behind her back. He grimaced, blood bubbling up from between his teeth.
“Fucking bitch,” he hissed. “Asssked for it.”
He gurgled and went still. Cameron threw him on his back and made ready to give him CPR. Then she saw his stomach. And she saw, lower, more blood pouring from between his legs. Gina had cut something off down there.
She stood up and backed away. CPR wouldn’t help this. The thing in t
he bed was a corpse now.
* * *
“Let go of her,” Cameron told Wade.
“Cameron, she—”
“Now, Wade.”
He released Gina’s arms, and Cameron took the girl’s hand. She led her out of the room and out of the house, away from the smell of Bill’s mess, as well as his body. She didn’t look behind to see if any of the men were following her—she hoped Hernando and Scott would take care of the mess, but right now there were living people who needed her more.
Time in the service had taught her a few things, and one of them was how to judge a scene with little more than a single glance. First impressions told her a lot now, and more details were becoming clear the more she took in. She’d seen the wild rage in Gina’s eye when she stepped in the room, but also the fear. She’d seen Gina wince when Wade seized her. She saw the way Gina walked gingerly now, almost painfully, and felt how the girl’s fingers trembled in her own.
Gina’s cabin was open, but Cameron locked it once she’d brought the girl inside. She led Gina to the living room and sat her down.
“I need you to take off anything that’s got blood on it,” she said.
Gina looked up at her, eyes fearful and brimming with tears.
“Do you want me to leave the room?” said Cameron softly.
“I … no, it’s okay,” said Gina.
Slowly she got her clothes off, and Cameron inspected her. Bruises on her wrists and on one cheek. Minor scrapes here and there. Cameron took a deep breath.
“I need to check you out,” she said.
Gina swallowed hard and shook her head.
“Gina, there could be lasting injuries. Tears, abrasions that could get infected. If that happens, I don’t have the ability to treat it outside of a hospital. I have to prevent it now instead.”
“I can’t,” whispered Gina.
Cameron knelt in front of her. She thought about putting her hands on Gina’s arms, but thought better of it. “I know,” she said. “I know what it’s like, but you have to take care of—”
“Has it ever happened to you?” snapped Gina. Cameron looked at her a long moment in silence. “Then how the hell do you know what it’s like?” Her voice finally broke, and she started to cry.
“I was a medic in the Army,” said Cameron. “It didn’t happen to me, but it happened enough.”
Gina didn’t answer for a long moment, but only looked into Cameron’s eyes. After what seemed like forever, she gave a loud sniff and nodded. Then she stood, peeling off her underwear.
“Lay down. I’ll be as fast as I possibly can.”
Gina complied, turning her head away to stare into the back of the couch. It didn’t take Cameron as long as she feared, and there was no sign of anything that wouldn’t heal easily with time. The second she was sure, she moved away quickly and took Gina’s hand.
“Okay. You’re fine. You’re absolutely fine.” She helped Gina sit up and grabbed a throw blanket to cover her with. Then she sat by the girl, let her bury her head in Cameron’s shoulder, and cry.
When the heavy, wracking sobs had subsided, Cameron leaned away to look at Gina. The girl looked back above tear-streaked cheeks, on the verge of breaking down again any minute.
“I need to know what happened,” said Cameron. “It’s not fair to make you tell me, not right now. But the group is going to need answers. We need to handle this quickly, or it’s going to be an even bigger problem.”
“How? How could it be bigger?” said Gina. But she sniffed and swiped at her nose with the back of her hand. “I was on guard duty. Hernando and I were walking around the cabins, going in opposite directions. I was to the north when Bill stumbled at me out of the darkness. I almost shot him until I realized it was him. Now I wish I had. I could smell he was drunk. I asked him what he was doing, but almost before I could say anything he hit the gun out of my hand and knocked me down. Then he …” There was a moment of silence before she continued. “I blacked out, or something. When I came to, I went straight to his house. You know the rest.”
Cameron took a deep breath, releasing it slowly through her nose. “Okay. Okay.”
“I’m not sorry,” said Gina, her eyes flashing. “I’d do it again if I could, right now.”
“I know,” said Cameron. “But I need you not to say that. I need you not to say anything to anyone. Okay?”
“Why?” said Gina. “I don’t care.”
“Because they’re going to want to punish you.”
Gina shot up off the couch. “Punish me? What the hell do you mean—”
Cameron stood to face her, looking her right in the eye. “Gina. Stop it. What do you do for a living?”
For a moment Gina didn’t answer. She crossed her arms. “I’m a dancer.”
“Right. And not ballet. So you know how people are—men and women. You know this is never fair. We never get an even break at this stuff. Okay? If the whole world was normal, maybe we could try to do something about that. Right now, it’s not, and we can’t.”
Shaking her head, Gina looked up toward the ceiling. “This is … that’s bullshit.”
“But you know it’s true. So are you going to help me help you?”
The girl’s shoulders sagged. She looked down at her feet, and suddenly her confidence, her anger seemed to flow out of her. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”
* * *
After swaddling her in a thick waterproof jacket, Cameron led her out of the house. Hernando was waiting outside, sitting on the front porch smoking a cigarette. As soon as they came into view, he stood and tossed it into the dirt.
“Gina. You okay? I mean … you know.”
Gina nodded. Cameron drew Hernando’s attention back to her. “Where is everyone?”
“The clubhouse. I was there for a second, but I felt ready to knock somebody the fu—I mean, I thought I should probably go.”
“Smart,” said Cameron wryly. “But let’s head over there. And whatever you do, don’t mouth off. Or hit anyone. Actually, stand behind me and don’t say anything. Okay?”
Hernando fell into step behind her with an unintelligible mutter. It didn’t exactly sound like agreement, but he wasn’t arguing, either. Cameron noticed how he walked by Gina, but didn’t try to touch her, even to put an arm around her shoulders. The kid was a lot smarter than he looked, and smarter than most people here wanted to give him credit for.
At the clubhouse she found about half the community gathered around. Wade stood at the head of the room, though he stepped aside the second he saw Cameron, making room for her to take her spot. Scott and Russell were there, as were Debbie, Aubrey, Jeremy, and Theresa.
“Hey Cam,” said Wade.
“Let’s get this over with,” said Cameron. “We all know why we’re here.”
“Damn straight,” said Jeremy. He pointed at Gina. “She just killed somebody.”
Cameron met his eye for a moment, and then she looked around at everyone. “Does anyone here really think that’s all? Or do you all know what actually happened tonight?”
No one answered for a second. Eventually it was Theresa’s husband Jeremy who spoke up. “Yeah, but she still killed someone.”
Theresa rounded on him. “Seriously? He raped her.”
Cameron tensed, her gaze darting to Gina. The girl flinched and wrapped her arms around herself.
Jeremy had the decency to hang his head, but he still looked troubled. “Yeah, I know, but ... you can’t just kill people!”
Theresa snorted. “Really? I would.”
There were a few murmurs throughout the room—some angry, but some of agreement. Cameron could feel the tension like a hand around her throat. She stepped forward, drawing everyone’s attention back to her.
“Stop. We’re not having a hypothetical argument here. We’re dealing with what’s actually happened. And what actually happened isn’t just some random murder.”
“We know, Cam,” said Wade. “But at the same time … we can’t not have rules, w
e can’t just let people—”
“My name is Cameron,” she said, fixing him with a look. “And I didn’t say anything about rules, or letting people do anything.”
His nostrils flared, but he only shook his head in silence. Jeremy spoke up again. “We could—we should exile her. You can’t kill someone in the community and get away with it.”
“We’re not exiling her,” said Cameron.
“But she killed someone,” said Jeremy.
“Not ‘someone,’” said Russell. “A goddamn rapist!”
His wife, Debbie, shook her head slowly. “I ... that’s awful, but she still murdered someone. Sending her away seems right. It’s not like we’re killing her.”
“Except we would be killing her,” said Bettie. She turned to Jeremy with her hands on her hips. “We kick her out, she’s dead. So, an eye for an eye. Except it’s not. We all know what happened tonight—everything that happened. And you all know that Bill shot someone, a total stranger, just today. So let’s not pretend this is some random killing, like she’s some sicko or even just someone on a power trip. That was Bill, not Gina. We gave him every chance, and maybe we gave him more chances than we should have. But Jeremy, you look me in the eye right now and tell me he didn’t deserve to die.”
The room went dead silent. Cameron winced internally. Bettie had said it. They all knew that they’d all been thinking it, but still, she’d said it. And Cameron felt it descending upon her like the weight of a truck: the world really was different now. This was a world where you talked about who did and didn’t deserve life itself, where there were no cops or courts to take care of the messy, violent side of life that always lived at the edges of civilization. She wanted to run out of the clubhouse and jump in her Jeep, and then just drive east until she found Alex and Piper. Instead she stood stock still, matching Jeremy’s gaze until at last he looked away.
“So what about the next person who deserves to die?” said Jeremy. “Anybody else on that list? You gonna send Gina after them?”
Cameron ignored that—it was the argument of a child losing an argument, and everyone there knew it. She looked at Wade instead. “I say Gina gets manual labor. Hard stuff, digging new fence posts, reinforcing the fences, digging any holes that need doing. Twelve-hour shifts under supervision, and reduced rations.”
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