by B.R. Paulson
Chapter 8
We didn’t travel far before Jeanine stopped where the trail widened and curved.
She watched behind us as we closed the distance. Our breathing patterns matched, mine and Mom’s, I’m not sure why but this irritated me more.
I wiped my brow. I didn’t like being mad at her. Since Dad died, I wanted to be closer to Mom but she clung harder to her God, pushing me out.
Except not.
She always wanted me to pray with her, go to church with her, read scriptures with her. She wanted to pull me in, drink the Kool-Aid.
But I didn’t want to do any of the stuff she based her happiness on. I had the hardest time believing anything so simple would solve all my problems.
Jeanine smiled tightly. “You don’t have much further to go. I need to get back to the clearing. We’re hoping more of us are just late getting in.” She crossed her arms, dropping one hand from the tight self-embrace. She fiddled with a string from her jacket edge.
Mom didn’t reply, stepping around Jeanine. She continued walking. Behind her, I walked further onto the flattened grass blades and didn’t look at the woman.
A whiff of cheap drug store perfume slapped me across the face like she arched her arm through the air, accosting the freshness of the outdoors. The scent’s presence couldn’t be more out of place.
We walked on.
I’d never been up so far north. Usually Mom went to the meetings by herself. At least, I never attended one. She could have taken someone else with her. The more time I spent with Mom, the more I realized I didn’t know her quite the way I thought I did.
Murmurs carried on the breeze, rustling through leaves and branches. I quickened my pace to push myself closer to my mom. I didn’t need to get too far behind. Plus, I was scared out of my flipping blistering boots. Staying near Mom dulled the edge of my fear, diminishing the fright enough my pride didn’t hurt so badly.
She ducked under a spindly low-hanging branch. “Sounds like the camp’s right up this way. Stay close, okay? Remember, we don’t trust anyone.”
At least she hadn’t said pray. Her usual go-to, the answer for everything. I once asked her a question about what classes to take, her answer? Pray. What should I do over the weekend? Pray. Should I get a job? Pray.
Pray. Pray. Pray.
Always. I’m supposed to pray like asking her isn’t enough. What does praying do? Not bring my dad back. Praying didn’t keep my brother from dying. I’m sure the world had plenty of people praying for safety and wow, the entire earth still went to hell via priority mail.
At least she went with don’t trust anyone.
Anyone.
These people she chose to shack up with could be classified as anyone. Confusion set in.
We probably shouldn’t be going in. If she didn’t trust them, why stay? Certainly we could do better than having to watch our backs all the time. But I trusted her – even as I wanted to yell at her. Telling her my fears wouldn’t hurt anyone.
Reaching for her shoulder, I ducked under the same branch but my jaw dropped. Entering the tightly maintained property boundaries, I swallowed. Large wall tents lined the further edge of the fenced off yard. Six foot cedar planks fenced about two football fields worth of acreage.
Jeanine had led us to the front entry path which brought us through the gate left open. Planted directly in front of the opening, we didn’t have to be all the way inside to view the camp.
My fingers clenched around Mom’s upper arm, digging in for stability. I couldn’t drag my eyes from the compound. I held my lips still while whispering as softly as possible. “I think we should go, Mom. You don’t even trust these guys. Please, let’s go.”
A soft shake of her head stomped my fear into a tight cement rock in my gut. “I invested too much to give up on this now. We’ll be able to survive here. They have all the resources. I don’t need to trust anyone to use them.”
What did I say? I prayed about leaving? She’d know I was lying. Fatigue pulled at me, aching in my muscles.
A man approached from around the edge of the white gate. Dressed in a brown-and-white flannel shirt over dirty blue jeans, he offered a cautious friendly smile, eyes shifting along Mom’s frame. Taking in every detail, he held out a hand to her. “Megan, it’s been a while.”
Mom’s shoulders stiffened. She returned the handshake but pushed back with her other hand on my waist. “Charlie. I didn’t expect to see you.”
His smile widened enough to reveal large canine teeth my brother used to call vampire biters. Charlie’s had a peculiar dominance while the front four of his top teeth seemed smaller than most men’s. “Jeanine didn’t tell you I was here? Yeah, Larry didn’t… make it. Come in. I have the perfect place for you and your family.” He waved us inside the fence line, angling his head behind us and scanning the forest.
I stepped back toward the path. Something about his narrowed eyes and snakelike tongue flicking over his lips freaked me out. He eyed my mom the way Mr. Nelson, the baseball coach, had stared at the cheerleaders of the high school. Like she was on his menu and he couldn’t wait to devour her.
“Is this everyone? Two girls out on their own can’t be very safe. Come in where there’s protection and we can talk. Some things have changed since the last meeting.” His grin didn’t reach his eyes and he motioned with his hand, holding his arm aloft as he waited for us to walk across the invisible property line connected on either end by four by four cedar posts. “I think you’ll find them improvements.”
Tension set minute hairs of my neck on end. We waited for what felt like another day when suddenly Mom jerked her head up and down and reached for my arm. “Okay, lead the way.”
What the heck? Don’t trust anyone just turned into do whatever it takes to get into a group. I shook my head, ignoring of course the constant glances Charlie threw over his shoulder at my mom.
As we walked over the closely trimmed grass, I studied my mom like a guy might. I had my experience with the boys at school. Most were perverts and didn’t hide their sick thoughts as they murmured comments when they passed or accidentally bumped into the girls during the day.
Mom’s hair had a thick darkness which cradled individual silver strands past her shoulders. She’d taken her ponytail down earlier and soft curls draped above the straps on her backpack. She didn’t look like a woman who had kids and let herself go. Instead, Mom had a habit of treating everything in her life like it would help with her survival. Exercise and healthy eating were the best way to prepare for the end of the world. Mom always said losing weight wasn’t the best way to approach the hunger of desperate times.
She fit her jeans well and had a curviness to her hips which marked her as a mom. I’d always been jealous of her curves. I still had boy hips and wouldn’t mind if I got hers genetically at some point.
Smoke scented the breeze with a campfire flavor of cooking meat and charred wood. Off to our right, red bricks framed in a Volkswagen-sized pit where orange flames flickered but didn’t roar. Two women clipped clothing to a wire stretched between two straight posts, decidedly devoid of expression.
We didn’t stop in any of the hunting-style tents set up like summer camp cabins. Which begged the question, where were the camp counselors? Like some terrible twist on a horror flick.
Charlie strode forward with his arms swinging firmly at his sides, gaze straight ahead. He could’ve been checking out things in front of him, but his head didn’t move side to side. He didn’t strike me as a man who handled others being in charge.
The sick turning in my gut increased and I bit my inner cheek. Mom wouldn’t let anything happen to us.
A house commandeered the north side of the property still inside the fence line. Charlie didn’t hesitate at the steps up the porch. Nor did he pause to knock or ring a doorbell. He shoved the door open and stepped to the side to wave us in.
I shot one last glance behind me toward the direction of the now-closing gate befo
re he shut the door.
“We’ll be more comfortable in the sitting room.” He tucked his hands in his pocket and winked at my mom. She jerked her head down and then glanced back at me.
How did I know things were about to get ugly? A hint could be in the slow saunter he adopted as he established the home as his. Or the continuous once-overs he stole of my mom. Something creeped me out about him and I couldn’t swallow, my mouth dry from nerves.
Gripping my backpack straps, I followed Mom across the foyer and into a sitting room decorated with dead animal heads mounted above a mantle with paisley printed couches and coffee tables spotted with water rings. I chewed on the inner skin of my cheek with more ferocity. Why were we here? Why hadn’t we left yet?
Inside, I was screaming. But outside? I was going along with Mom. Stuck.
Charlie motioned toward the couches. I didn’t want to sit. They looked like the type of furniture stereotypical pedophiles would have. Lifetime shows on Saturday afternoons had taught me to be weary of anyone with overly patterned sofas and unfeminine accents.
We sat, but gingerly like the couches hid hunting traps beneath their cushions, ready to spring at our butt cheeks. I hadn’t walked as far as I had for my butt to get eaten off by a dang couch – in paisley for crying out loud. I didn’t bother hiding my glare as Charlie claimed his own seat beside the river rock fireplace.
He steepled his hands and pressed his fingers to his mouth, drawing out the moment like a poorly written suspense novel. Speak already. He lowered his hands to rest on his lap and inclined his head. “Megan, you didn’t bring your husband. Is he coming later?”
I squinted at my mom, anxious for her to lie. Say anything to keep Dad’s invisible protection wrapped around us.
“My husband and my son are dead.” Her short answer surprised me. I’d never heard her speak so clipped. She smiled while speaking – maybe to take the edge off her tone?
Charlie crossed his arms, his smile broadening. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Thank you.” Skimming the room with her eyes, she reached down and scratched at her ankle beneath the top of her boot. “So can we go to our tent? I believe I’m supposed to have the one on the far end.”
Shrugging, Charlie leaned back, piercing her with his stare. “Well, rules have changed, Megan. You don’t have a man to protect you. Those are needed here. Without a protector, you can’t have a tent to yourself.” He spread his hands, palms out with fingers fanned. “The rule was not created for fun, but more for safety. I’m sure you understand.”
“Protection? I don’t need a man to protect me, Charlie. You know this. We took the same classes. I have a carry concealed license. You’ve seen me shoot.” She clenched her jaw. Mom held herself together, but barely.
Charlie stilled, like he sensed a blow up might be inevitable, if he didn’t take care with his next word selections. “I’m not questioning your skills. What the protection rule prevents is the men taking what they want, because someone is responsible for that woman or…” He pointed my way. “family.”
“I think my gun will be able to protect us from any of the men. Why are those kind of men allowed in this camp, if they can’t be trusted to act civilized?” Mom’s eyebrow arched and I lifted mine. She only asked questions when she knew the answer.
“Oh, about that. I’m going to need you to turn your weapons in. People can’t run around with guns in the camp. That can’t be safe for anyone, especially if an unfortunate accident occurs.” He offered a condescending smile – a match to my gym teacher’s grin when she told us we weren’t required to run but we had to make a time limit on the mile – exactly low enough to require us to run.
Mom stared at Charlie. She didn’t waver.
He met her gaze, unflinching. “Listen, I don’t have anyone claimed myself. You and your daughter can stay in the house with me. You just be… available… and you’ll have protection in the camp.” He pointed at me. “Her too. It’s really that easy.”
“And if I want to leave?” Mom lifted her chin, squaring her jaw. Finally, her logical side kicked in. Let’s go!
“You should’ve gone before coming inside. Now that you’ve entered our walls, you’re community responsibility. We can’t afford for you to leave. So you can either stay with me, protected, or you can take your chances in a community tent.” Charlie’s smile didn’t change, but the skin around his eyes hardened. He pointed toward Mom’s bruised and scraped face. “Looks like you already experienced a taste of what’s out there as it is. Congratulations escaping, but do you think you’ll do so well next time?”
I clenched my knees together, curling my toes. He wasn’t a man I wanted to be caught alone with. He took a positive and slanted it into doubt.
Mom’s lips parted. Pure shock slackened her features. She didn’t speak. I’m sure she couldn’t. His proposition reeked and I’m not surprised she couldn’t figure out what to say.
He continued. “I’ll need to know what other skills you have to benefit the group. Your value will adjust what your standing is with us, when you eat, when your lookout times are, and so on.” He thrummed his fingers on his upper thigh, glancing from me to Mom.
“But… But everything was already decided. Our positions were established and now you’re changing them? I don’t understand.” Mom dug her fingers into the material above her knee.
Charlie didn’t drop his grin. “I know it’s confusing, but when management changes other things do, too.”
“I can still protect myself and my daughter.” Mom stiffened her lip. I had no doubt her stubbornness alone would keep us safe and fed and even thriving – with or without a group to support us.
Fingers shaped into a gun, index pointed at me, Charlie cocked his jaw to the side. “What about her? Think you can protect her, twenty-four hours? When you’re sleeping? When she needs to use the restroom? Choose me and I’ll keep you on the same rotations, same shifts. Don’t… and, well.” He shrugged, picking at the cuticle on his thumb. His sudden disinterest alarmed me more than his threats.
So what if he couldn’t promise Mom anything. She could. She brought us to the group. She had to be able to trust some of those people, right? If not, what were we doing there?
Mom didn’t speak. I watched them and looked around wildly, his words, their meaning terrifying, but I couldn’t grasp why. Yes, his threat was clear. But would that horror be allowed in a community designed for safety? I was too tired, too confused. Too out of my element to understand exactly what was being thrown down and how it had happened to us.
Charlie’s voice lowered. He leaned forward conspiratorially. “Look, think of it this way. You control if it’s voluntary or not, if it’s more than just me. More importantly, your daughter will be protected by more than you alone. It’s like we’ll be working together to keep her safe.”
Mom waited another drawn out thirty seconds before nodding her head.
She ignored the caveat to the promise in his tone.
The promise which said we’d be protected.
For now.