Exchange Rate

by Bonnie R. Paulson

  Guards on the gate towers pointed at us, calling across to each other. Pointing his weapon at us, the one closest didn’t move as the other disappeared. In seconds the first gate opened, with a new man there to motion us inside the metal perimeter.

  I glanced back into the green shifting needles and leaves on the bushes. An odd sadness ached in my belly. Moving from site to site hadn’t been ideal, but I’d grown to know it.

  “Are you the only three?” The man looked behind us, searching for people who may or may not be there.

  We nodded together, muted by our nerves. What if three was too many? Or not enough? What if we had children? I had to remember to ask about the Scoggins. I couldn’t judge them, because I didn’t know exactly what happened, but I recognized desperation.

  “Close ‘em.” The guard waved his fingers toward the gates and turned toward the next set of gates in a simpler set up.

  The gates closed behind us, the creaking of metal on metal jarring. I jumped, but tried to cover it.

  Inside the next layer of fencing we entered a grass covered sleeve of neutral ground where we weren’t inside but we weren’t outside either. The second set of gates closed behind us and the wooden gates swung open, revealing the inner workings of the camp.

  Grass-covered mounds protruded from the ground in orderly rows, half-way out like missile silos, bunker style. Neatly kept lawns and graveled paths invited us further inside.

  The smell of fried chicken slapped me in the face.

  Instantly, my mouth watered.

  The man escorted us inside, closing the final gates to freedom. But I was distracted. I didn’t care anymore. Food aromas had taken hold and I couldn’t think straight. I would do anything for anyone who gave me a plate of chicken.

  From the direction of a parked Jeep a tall figure approached us. His white cowboy hat complemented the silver in his suit jacket and silver tie. A white button up shirt over snug blue jeans reminded me of a cowboy politician, looking honest but he might be trying too hard.

  He lifted his hand. “Howdy, welcome to Freedom Pass.” The man closed the distance and shook John’s hand then Bodey’s. He tilted his hat to me and smiled. “Ya’ll look like you’ve been through hell, if you don’t mind me sayin’. Is it just you?”

  “Yes. We’ve been walking for days. We’ve heard about this place, so we came to check things out.” John nodded, holding his shoulders straight even as the differences between the new man and himself were glaringly obvious. John’s beard and matted clothing paled next to the guy’s neatness.

  “I’m Rowan. Why don’t you come in and let’s see if we’re going to be a good fit?” His straight white teeth sparkled. A clean shaven strong jawline added to the home-again feel. John and Bodey hadn’t shaved in so long. They had found scissors at one of the houses we’d looted – and they kept their beards as short as possible. But patchy. I’d caught John stroking his many times.

  Our bedraggled selves followed him across the short lawn and down some steps to enter a bunker set into the ground like a half-grown home. He stepped to the side, allowing us inside the building.

  A room set up like an office from the sixties with vinyl chairs, shiny in primary colors, and padded vinyl tabletops in the center. Bright orange and green file cabinets lined one wall alongside a humming olive green fridge.

  An appliance that worked? What would Rowan do if I ran and checked to make sure I wasn’t imagining the noise?

  Rowan pointed toward some chairs, and crossed the shag carpet to hang his jacket on a coat tree beside an oval mirror. He turned, pausing to glance at himself in the mirror while loosening his tie. “We need to get to know you first, so if you don’t mind, we’ll just get comfortable. Go ahead and do the same. I need to have my guards check your weapons.” He held up his hand at John’s move to stand. “I won’t keep them. This is simply for my safety and yours. If we decide to move forward, you can have them back with registration and rights as allowed in our town.”

  Town? My memories of a town or a city didn’t have prairie dog mounds or towers with guns, but my memories had food and safety to a degree. If he wanted to call that place a town, I could respect his declaration if he provided resources for the people in his group.

  Another man ducked inside, standing by the door with his arms behind his back. His sandy blond hair was lighter than Bodey’s and his clean-shaven appearance matched that of Rowan. The guard, however, didn’t wear a suit or tie, instead his worn jeans and long-sleeve shirt were unobtrusive. And he was just present.

  John passed over his hand gun. Bodey followed suit. I didn’t have mine anymore. I’d lost the piece in the middle of our camp in the flames.

  Rowan reached forward, pulling them across the table to rest in the middle, neither closer to him or them.

  John slid his bags off and Bodey and I followed suit. My back ached and my shoulders felt like they were in a perma-slump. I wanted to reach back and check for a Quasimodo hump.

  “Please, take a seat. Can I get you a drink?” He moved to the fridge. “I have juices, pops, and water.” His nonchalance jarred me more than the possibility at having a pop.

  Bodey and I looked to John. He was the most cautious. My instinct was to take everything he offered because my hunger ate into my hips. I was so hungry, so thirsty, so tired. The survivor inside me didn’t care if we got into the community or not so long as we got something to eat like fried chicken. A meal. Something more solid than seed-and-nut bread.

  John took a long, discerning moment to study whatever he searches for when he makes a decision. I held my breath, waiting for his answer. I didn’t have to wait, but he would make the smarter choice, whereas I was too impulsive.

  “Yes, please.” He inclined his head and offered a hesitant smile. Rowan pulled an armful of varied beverages from the appliance and manhandled them to the table.

  Condensation caught on the side of the orange juice bottle nearest me. A drop of water rolled down the side and I couldn’t look away. My mouth was suddenly drier than it’d ever been.

  Rowan picked up the juice I eyed and offered the bottle to me. I didn’t hesitate, curling my fingers around the cold body, my mouth suddenly overly moist with anticipation. Shaking the bottle because that’s what you did with a bottle of juice, I glanced at Bodey and John. Each had their own bottle and shook them or already sipped their contents.

  I couldn’t wait any longer. I twisted the lid and closed my eyes as I sipped at the sweet-tart liquid. Oh. Wow.

  The silence in the room was deafening as we enjoyed our first truly cold beverage in over a year – drinking cold things during the winter didn’t count. All you want is warmth then.

  Screw manners. I drained my drink, wiping the excess drops from my top lip and replacing the lid. Placing the empty bottle on the table, I nodded. “Thank you.” I grinned like an idiot and didn’t care.

  “Would you tell me your names?” Rowan’s respect at our plight came as if he understood hunger. But how was that possible? He looked like he had never missed a meal. Not that he was heavy, not even close. His muscle mass defied starvation and his features were too filled in.

  “I’m John Christianson and this is my son, Bodey and his wife, Kelly.” He didn’t claim me as his daughter. I shifted on the seat. It was my first time being introduced as Bodey’s wife.

  Rowan glanced sharply at me, eyeing my ring. “Married? How old are you?”

  “I just turned nineteen, sir.” I lifted my chin. He wouldn’t shame me about being too young. Age had nothing to do with surviving this crazy stuff.

  His gaze trailed past me to his guard and he stared for a drawn out moment before turning his attention back to us. “Were you married before the government fell?”

  Looking quizzically at Bodey and John, I shook my head. “No. We just got married a couple days ago.”

  “Who performed the ceremony?” He leaned back in his seat and tapped his finger on the edge of the table. He wouldn’t look at John or Bodey,
but held me captive in his gaze.

  “Um... John did.” I lamely pointed at my father-in-law without looking at him. Was I wrong?

  Rowan considered me for another moment then straightened toward the table. “This sounds like I have to treat it like a common law situation.”

  “Common law has to do with length of time. This doesn’t fall under those boundaries.” John crossed his ankle over his knee.

  Had Rowan just said I wasn’t married?

  “That may be so, but common law means it’s more private in nature rather than ceremonial or contractual. There is no government to support contracts like the one you’re suggesting, therefore I have to treat it like common law.” He removed his hat and folded his hands on the table. Even under the bucket of the tight hat, he was neatly maintained with shaved dark stubble. “If you stay, you’ll get your own bunker on the side of the compound with the other single people and you’ll date those who are matched to you. If Bodey fits, then, well, he fits. But if not, you’ll be expected to move on.”

  “So what are you saying?” I half-stood, but Bodey’s hand pressed me back to my seat. I thrust my jaw to the side. “I’m married.” Was he kidding? He couldn’t say I was or wasn’t something. The one thing I couldn’t lose was Bodey and that was the first thing Rowan wanted to take from me. I wouldn’t stay. I didn’t need to stay at another bunker. Not with Bodey close but so far.

  I jostled my leg, anxious to get out of there.

  Rowan nodded slowly. “I understand your frustration, but let me put it this way for you, Kelly. You’re only nineteen years old. You look fairly healthy. Until I know what your talents are, that’s all I have to go on for entry into our town.” He pointed his finger at Bodey and John. “These guys might be brilliant men and have skills to turn dirt into food, but as far as this community’s well-being is concerned, you have more value and worth than they do.”

  That took me aback. I had never been told I was worth anything simply because I was a girl. Lifting of their own accord, my shoulders pulled back and I sat a little straighter. I listened a little closer.

  “So what are you saying?” My eyebrows drew together and I shifted my lips to the side. I crossed my arms, determined to leave after speaking.

  Then I looked at John and Bodey, took in the true basis of the situation. Staying in camp wasn’t just me and my interests. They wanted to be there, too. Safety and food were high on all our priority lists.

  He sighed. “To put it bluntly, if you don’t stay, I don’t see the point in keeping these men.” He pressed his lips together, letting me absorb his meaning. Glancing between the three of us, Rowan blinked, watching us as if assessing our reactions.

  If I didn’t stay, would Bodey and John still want to? How did I react to that? “But if I stay, I can’t be with Bodey and John?” But beyond those walls, Shane and his gang stalked us like rabbits, closing in until our feet were in their snares.

  “Well, wait now. I’m not saying that exactly.” He shifted on his seat, glancing beyond my shoulder to the man at the door. “Ethan, can you wait outside, please? Give me five and then come back in.” A soft click signaled Ethan’s exit. Rowan rested his forearms on the edge of the table. “I’m not sharing this with many people, even my family, but I go out every two to three days looking for another safe place like this for our community to stretch into.”

  Pride lifted Rowan’s chin and he smiled. “Yes, sir, we are matching young men and women to be later united for the most high calling of procreation.”

  “What does that mean?” Bodey was smarter than most boys. When he didn’t understand something, it was pretty clear that whatever was being said needed clarification.

  Affable, Rowan spoke smoothly. “It means, Bodey, that once we get another community to expand into, we will be sending the couples there to have babies and reproduce. With few people left in the world, it’s our job to make sure things are carried further.”

  Like a baby-making farm? Gross.

  John studied the three of us as we spoke, his eyes narrowed and his lips taut.

  “What does that have to do with Bodey and I staying together?” The concept was slipping past me. Bodey and I could be considered a stepping stone in Rowan’s plans to increase the population.

  “Well, there are a couple things impacting this and it makes for difficult decisions to be made every day.” Rowan lifted his hand, fingers splayed. He ticked off a digit with each point, bending a finger toward his palm. “We don’t allow children in our town. Not right now. Children being defined as younger than thirteen, of course.” Next finger. “We also don’t allow anyone over the age of fifty.”

  No one older than fifty? I didn’t glance at John, but I wanted to. Only a few days ago, he’d been laughing because he was still out camping at fifty-four. He wouldn’t be allowed in anyway. I wouldn’t need to stay there. We could go.

  “That seems harsh.” Bodey’s forehead scrunched and he pushed his lips to the front as he perused Rowan.

  “Let me finish and then I’ll explain. Sex is not allowed. Not until we have room to grow. If you and Bodey are just recently married, let’s say, I know I was your age once – you can’t control the hormones. If you have sex, your chances of pregnancy are pretty high which puts you on the short term occupancy list. I’m not interested in investing time and energy into you when you’ll be leaving soon.” He rubbed at a spot behind his ear.

  I kind of wanted to kick him under the table.

  We stared at Rowan as he stared at us. We’d reached a stalemate and no one seemed to know what to do.

  As much as I wanted to stay there and be safe from the men hunting us, I wouldn’t be separated from my husband. John and Bodey were my family. I couldn’t be one thing and then do another. I’d said my vows. That was it. I stood, just as the door opened and Ethan returned quietly to his post.

  “I think that’s my cue.” I glanced at Bodey, our eyes meeting. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to be away from you. If that’s the cost for us to live here, I’m not willing to pay it.” Inside I shook, but I maintained my calm façade. How did no one see my shaking legs and the goose bumps on my neck?

  I bent and lifted my backpack. Ethan waved his hands at Rowan like a poorly done pantomime. What was going on? I turned my gaze on Rowan who watched us, flicking his gaze from us to Ethan repeatedly.

  Finally, he focused on me and half-stood, holding out his hand. “Now, let’s not get hasty. Let’s compromise. We can do that, right?” He stood and walked around the table to me. John stood and moved to my right side, close enough to push me behind him should I need it but far enough I didn’t feel penned in.

  I glanced at Ethan again by the door. What kind of pull did he have?

  If I needed John to, he’d rush to my aid immediately. But he let me have my independence – especially when he agreed with my answer.

  Bodey moved beside me, crossing his arms. But he was closer, almost touching the rear of my shoulder.

  Appreciation for the Christianson men filled me. I didn’t feel threatened or even like I needed to be on the defensive. I calmed down and waited to hear his offer.

  “We can make a deal. I’m not going to acknowledge your marriage.” He held a hand when I half-turned on my foot toward the door. “But if you want to live with John and Bodey, you’re going to be given your own room. After we finish the interview process to see if you’ll even fit in here, I’ll explain the ins and outs of the community and how we get things done. Does that sound fair?”

  John spoke up, stepping abreast of me. “If you’re the leader here, why can’t you just marry Bodey and Kelly now? Then it’s taken care of in this town, right?”

  “Yeah, I could, but I’m not going to. Kelly needs a little bit more time to see what her options are. We have plenty of young men she might pair up nicely with. If you join our community, I would ask that since you’re not married, you abstain from intercourse. If you get pregnant before it’s time...” Shrugging, Rowan chuckl
ed softly. “It’s like I said, John, compromise.”

  I couldn’t completely wrap my head around his insinuations. What happened if I got pregnant before he said I could? More guys my age didn’t matter. I’d been in high school and the multitude of boys hadn’t appealed to me over Bodey. Why was he so intent on me choosing for myself? The power he insisted pushing on me was daunting and hard to reject. Its temptation was stronger than I’d thought it would be.

  “This turned into a heavy conversation before I’ve even had a chance to interview you and see if we even fit. I apologize for my rudeness. Please, sit. It’s very nice to meet you all. I’d like to ask some questions.” He steepled his fingers, tapping his thumbs together. “This shouldn’t take long.”

  Reclaiming our seats, we stared at him, waiting. I didn’t know what I wanted yet. I could stay with Bodey and John. In our own place, if we were a fit. I’d said that was what I wanted. Just because Rowan didn’t observe our marriage, didn’t mean we didn’t.

  Assuming he’d stick to the deal, what else did we need to say or do to get in? What would it take? We were being tested without any idea what the material was.

  “First of all, do you have any expectations of our community?” He waited, his eyes open and guileless.

  I couldn’t look at the two main men in my life. What were my expectations? I couldn’t figure out what I wanted from myself, how did I know what I could expect from a community?

  John lifted his hand just a few inches into the air and then dropped it. “That’s a difficult question since we don’t know what you have to offer. I think I can speak for us all when I say safety and a chance to help provide solid resources.”

  “Can I add, too, though, that I don’t want to get raped or be sold? I think those are fair to mention, right?” Heat flooded my face, but I couldn’t back down. He wanted to know our expectations. Mine were cut and dry.

  Bodey patted my arm, waiting for the next question. Maybe we could skate through all of them while John answered for us. If I kept my mouth shut, it’d be less pressure. I wouldn’t be opposed to that.