Lauren scowled at Christian. With an enraged look in her eyes, she flipped her hair over her shoulder, squaring off with him. “That’s good. I’m glad. Because I’m not broken.”
She pulled her arms from the sleeves of the fleece liner Christian had given her the night before and handed it to him. “Go home, Christian. And when you get there, make sure to tell my sister that.”
Lauren spent an uncomfortable portion of the final hour before his departure explaining everything to Norman. Although pleased to know they had managed to procure a doctor and medical supplies, and with that, the chances of his son Lee surviving his illness had improved, he wasn’t fond of leaving Lauren behind. He made his opinion clear to her, told her he loved her like the daughter he never had, and promised he would pass her sentiments on to his son John, knowing John wouldn’t be thrilled.
Later that evening, after taking some time to contemplate her decision, Lauren made her way through the camp to where Dave Graham, Woo Tang, Sanchez, and Santa had gathered together. They stood in a huddle, bent over the hood of a brown, 1970s-era Land Rover, and each man had a bottle of beer in his hand.
Woo Tang caught sight of her immediately and, seeing her approach, broke from the group and moved over to her with a perplexed look on his face. “Lauren Russell, your ride home was set to depart hours ago. But something tells me you are mindful of that detail.”
While she half smiled, Lauren nodded affirmation. “I am. I’m fully mindful of that detail, Jae.”
One of Woo Tang’s eyebrows rose while the other remained in place. “I see,” he said, tipping up his beer. “Is something wrong or out of place?”
Lauren pursed her lips dismissively. “Hmm, no.”
“Then I take it you have decided to accompany us on the next op?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I think I might’ve done just that.”
Woo Tang paused a moment and gazed at her with a keen, attentive eye. “Are you certain you know what you are getting yourself into?”
Lauren reached for his free hand while grinning shamefully. After a moment, she grinned, blinked a few times and shook her head no.
“Then I will stand by your side until you become certain,” he said, and took her by the hand, leading her back to the others, who were all now cognizant of and surprised by her presence.
Sanchez tapped the brim of his boonie hat and smiled broadly. “Oye! Que bonita! Attention on deck! There’s a pretty face I haven’t seen in a metric shit ton of days. Come here, chica! Give your homeboy a hug.”
Lauren smiled and ran to him, finding herself wrapped in his beefy arms. “As you were. It’s good to see you too, homeboy.”
Sanchez tilted his head down, his nose coming within inches of Lauren’s soiled, matted hair. “Damn, girl. What happened? Run out of shampoo at home?”
Lauren giggled. “No running water. Sorry about that.” She slowly pulled away from him and looked up. “Showers haven’t exactly been easy to come by.”
“It’s cool, it’s cool. It’s not that you smell bad or anything…you just don’t smell as sweet as you used to,” he jested, tilting his bottle up. “We’re supposed to head back to Rocket Center at some point next week. Maybe we can get you all dolled up and back to normal there.”
“Rocket Center?”
Sanchez started to respond, but was silenced by the harsh snap of Dave’s fingers. “I’ll…let LT explain it to you…when it’s apropos.”
Lauren backed away from Sanchez and something pudgy bumped into her right elbow. She turned her head to see Santa, the husky demolitions expert with the naturally painted white beard, standing within inches of her. She assumed he was smiling by the squint of his eyes, but couldn’t see his mouth or teeth through the furriness of his facial hair.
“Did you get my present? The one I sent you?” he asked. “Or did douchebag Dave drink it all?”
“Watch it there, Gandalf,” Dave chided, “or you’ll be cleaning out piss tubes all day tomorrow with your tongue.”
“I got your present. Thank you,” Lauren said.
Santa lifted her off the ground into a hug. “I got plenty more where that came from…in assorted flavors.”
Lauren tried to squeeze him back but couldn’t, the length of her arms unable to match his circumference. “I’ve been given more presents in the past twenty-four hours than I know what to do with…and I appreciate all of them…and all of you, too.”
“Aww,” Santa said. “Isn’t that darlin’? Tell you what, as long as you keep smiling and saying sweet little nothings like that, we’ll just keep bringing them to ya. This Santa knows you deserve them.”
After Santa let her down, Lauren turned to face Dave, somewhat dreading his reaction to her remaining behind after the convoy he’d put together as a favor to her had departed.
Instead of the vicious scowl she expected to see, Dave only smirked at her, one of his eyes squinting a little more than the other. “So, how do we explain this one, Janey? Change your mind? Or change of heart?”
Lauren shrugged. “More like a change of plans. You did say you needed every able body you can get.”
“Is that what I said?”
“You did,” she replied, inching her way over to him. “But it’s mainly my heart that’s keeping me here. Dad used to say it would always lead me in the right direction.” She paused. “I hope you don’t mind me deciding to hang around.”
Dave huffed. “Seriously? Like I could do anything about it, even if I did mind.” He winked at her.
Lauren smiled. “Permission to come aboard, then, Lieutenant? Or LT, or whatever they call you now?”
“Permission granted.”
Sanchez and Santa offered slow claps and wolf whistles, and Lauren took a bow. She had always considered these men family and felt tremendously fortunate to be reunited with them. “Um, Dave?”
“Yeah, Janey.”
“There’s something I need.”
Dave held up his bottle. “There’s more of these in the back of the Rover. Help yourself. Unless you’re referring to some other requirement of yours.”
Lauren laughed. “No…it’s something else.”
“Here we go again. What is it this time?”
She gestured to herself. “I need a gun.”
“Is that a fact?” Dave griped rhetorically, a slight edge in his voice.
“Yeah. I sort of…misplaced mine.”
Dave eyeballed Sanchez, who had only now begun to stifle his goofing off. Then he cast a stare in Lauren’s direction. “You did, did you? I seem to recall a lesson or two I taught…hell, it might’ve been three of them…concerning the magnitude of doing the opposite. Guess you weren’t paying attention.”
Lauren shrugged. “No, I remember your lessons—and a lot of the things you used to say all the time, too. In fact, I was hoping one of them in particular might afford me an alibi.”
“And what might that be?”
Lauren shrugged. “Shit happens.”
Dave groaned, rolled his eyes, and took a long drink. “Sounds like a crock of shit.”
Santa presented his beer and tilted it. “Come on, LT…we both know how a crock of shit can undoubtedly become Army policy,” he said, laughing. “And if our young Janey here needs a gun, by God, I say let’s give her one.”
“I second the motion,” Sanchez said.
Santa smacked his hand down on the hood of Dave’s ride. “Motion carried. Hell…looks to me like she could use two or three of them. And some fresh rags, too. Those civvies you got on look pretty ate up.” He paused to look at the sky. “I’ll take care of it. I know just the place.”
“I will locate a suitable location for you to rack out for the night,” said Woo Tang, moving to Lauren’s side from behind. “Somewhere accommodations will far exceed those you have experienced in recent days.”
Lauren twinkled at the thought of not having to sleep on the cold, rigid ground. “That would be divine.”
“Outstanding,” Santa said. “Miss
Jane, get yourself some quality shut-eye. Tomorrow…Santa takes you shopping.”
Chapter 14
Town of Edinburg
Shenandoah County, Virginia
Wednesday, December 1st
While Mark sat on the floor, he twiddled his thumbs. The living room of the home they had broken into to use as a temporary hideout was dusty and smelled of mold and mildew and other foul things he couldn’t distinguish. He didn’t much care to, either. The worst of the odors seemed to emanate from one of the home’s bathrooms, and he’d already gotten queasy one too many times today.
Mark’s plan wasn’t turning out as he had expected, and he felt dissatisfied and anxious and was growing more frustrated by the minute. With a DHS team congregated not far away from their position, they were stuck here. And their refuge had to have been the filthiest home in the neighborhood.
Every so often, Mark’s dissatisfaction with his predicament would find a distraction. His eyes would dart off to his right, only to clumsily look away and then repeat the process soon after.
Using the binoculars Mark had given her earlier on, Sasha was situated on all fours on her knees so she could watch from the corner of the bay window without being noticed. Using her free hand for support, both of her slender legs were pulled tightly together, effectively propping her curvy, denim-covered posterior into the air.
Sitting directly across from and facing his brother, Chad eyeballed Mark sternly, and after seeing him covet Sasha’s backside for the umpteenth time, he hauled off and thumped Mark’s shoulder with a glancing punch.
“Ouch!” Mark yelped. “What the hell was that for?”
“You know what it was for. You’re all over the place right now, rubberneck. Square that shit away.”
Sasha pulled back from the window, turned and moved in closer, plopping her butt on the floor. “I could’ve sworn I asked the two of you to stifle that crap.” She sighed and, once again, reached into her jacket for her cigarettes.
“Sorry, Sasha, but my brother seems to be a bit distracted today, for some reason…or another,” Chad explained. “I’m simply trying to keep him on point.”
Sasha shook her head and lit up while examining the limited quantity of smokes remaining in the pack with a woeful gaze.
Mark sat up straight to catch a glimpse. “I can’t believe you smoked that many already. You’re like a chimney.”
“Well, I kinda did go about a month without. I guess my body’s playing catch-up.” She looked to Mark sheepishly. “I don’t suppose you have another pack of these beauties stuffed inside that backpack of yours, do you?”
Mark shook his head at first, then halted while a smile slowly spread across his face. “I might.” He paused and awkwardly stirred while trying not to make eye contact with Sasha. “Suppose I did have some. What would you…give for them?”
Sasha snickered and removed the beanie from her head, allowing her streaked, graying locks to fall onto her shoulders. She coughed a couple of times, and her facial muscles tensed, allowing the crow’s feet and subtle wrinkles in her skin to come forth and denote her age. “That’s cute, kid. I like being buttered up, and I’m flattered, I am. And if I had anything to give, I would. How about I just smile and ask you nicely?”
Mark’s smile dissipated as his cheeks blushed. “Sure,” he said. “That’ll…work just fine.”
Chad sighed and rubbed his head. “Jesus. Enough. Either find a room or a bucket of cold water, Mark. If the carnal tension in this room gets any thicker, I’m leaving you both and turning myself in to DHS.”
Sasha snickered and crawled back to her spot at the window, pulling the binoculars back to her eyes. She positioned her body in a manner slightly more modest than before. “The two of you are fine, upstanding young men. And while a little flirting never hurt anybody, let’s be real with ourselves, shall we?” She paused and chuckled. “You boys would fall in love, and Sasha would fall asleep.”
Several minutes of uncomfortable silence passed by before Mark felt obliged to say anything. “Any ideas what DHS is doing here?”
Chad nodded while pointing his index finger at his brother. “Damn good question, bro. I’ve been sitting here wondering the same thing.”
“I’ve been watching agents going in and out of the Anderson house, with boxes and plastic bins in their arms. And some of them have been going around back with empty dollies and coming back loaded with buckets and all sorts of crud strapped to them.” Sasha took a drag. “My club used to hole up there. It’s not the first time I’ve seen a black DHS SUV entourage parked in the cul-de-sac, but it is the first time I’ve seen them on a shopping spree like this.” She paused. “That was one of the reasons why Damien wanted to stay here as long as we did. Evidently, the owner was one of those doomsday preppers—he had enough supplies locked up in his basement to feed his family for a couple of years, maybe more. No guns though, oddly enough.”
Mark leaned in. “What happened to the family who lived there?”
“Don’t be naïve, kid. What do you think happened to them?” She let out a remorseful breath. “An unarmed family against a small army of heartless, drunk madmen with guns. They were easy pickin’s. And it wasn’t exactly a painless ending, either…for any of them.”
Mark turned his head away contritely and rolled his lips between his teeth.
“So they’re here to confiscate supplies, then?” Chad asked, his head cocked to the side.
“That’s what it looks like,” Sasha breathed.
“Weird.”
“What’s weird is how clean it is down there. The last time I saw this street, it was in complete shambles, and now it looks like somebody dropped a dime and called in the Merry Maids.” Sasha snickered. “I could’ve sworn I even saw one of the spooks outside with a broom and dustpan a minute ago.”
“Too bad they never made it to this place,” Chad joked.
Mark hesitated. “But…no signs of the girls, though…”
Sasha closed her eyes and let out a sigh of despair. “No, I’m sorry, Mark. No sign of them at all. And I was hoping I would too, after seeing that creepy school bus sitting there. I thought it was a transport. But they got it filled to the brim with all the stuff they’ve been taking from the house.” She paused. “I’m hoping maybe they came and got them weeks ago.”
“Why would you say that?” Chad quizzed. “They’d be locked in the FEMA camp, then, wouldn’t they?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“And how could you hope for something like that?”
Sasha took a seat on the floor again and crossed her legs. Finishing her cigarette off, she doused it on the toe of her boot. “Hon, listen. Anywhere is better than here. No one wants to be forced to fend for themselves, especially those girls. You two, and a lot of fellas like you, were blessed to have skills that can keep you alive out here. Those chickadees, and so many others like them…since the moment they were plucked from their families, were lambs to the slaughter running scared in an open field bounded by starving wolves. I don’t know who’s caring for them now, and it doesn’t matter…I guarantee it’s way better than being stuck here alone, and galaxies better than how the brotherhood was treating them. I know what I’m talking about—I saw it with my own eyes, and I’m telling you, if DHS came here and took those girls to that camp, then there’s a damn good chance they’re all still alive and well. And that’s something I can live with.”
“Still seems shitty,” Mark added.
Chad nodded his agreeance. “Very shitty.”
“Oh, there’s no doubt the camp’s a sty. It’s ran by turd burglars, too. And no one wants to be kept in a sty ran by turd burglars. But there’s electricity there…food and shelter and heat. Plus, they’ve got doctors, nurses, and medicine.” Sasha paused, glancing down between her legs at the floor. “Out here, in the wild blue yonder, they had nothing. Here, all you got is nature…and nature, as we’ve seen already today, can be a cruel bitch.”
Chad hesitated before asking, �
��Have you been inside?”
Sasha nodded. “The camp? Sure. A bunch of times. That’s where we came to know ole Dougie Bronson. He’s the regional DHS commander, by the way. El jefe. Mr. King Shit himself.” She gestured out the window to the cul-de-sac with her thumb. “That maggot weasel Bates over there is his number one.”
“What’s it like?” Mark inquired, his curiosity aroused.
Sasha rested her head in her hand and combed through her hair with her fingers. “Oh, as you might imagine. Lots of people, all ages, shapes and sizes, either hard at work or on their way to being hard at work. When they’re not working or eating, they walk around aimlessly, looking sad and dejected with no clue what the future has in store for them. Then there’s the agents. Lots of them. Black suits, security guards, and people with guns.” Her brows elevated. “Lots of guns.”
Mark nodded, turning his head away. “I’ve dreamt about it, but I don’t think my imagination could do it justice.”
“It’s really not that big a deal, Mark, honestly,” Sasha said. “After the collapse, or whatever everybody’s calling it, FEMA rolled in heavy to put down mobs and rioting and shit. They were given an inch and took a mile; then a few months later, they took a few hundred of them.” She paused. “You know that saying about absolute power corrupting absolutely? Well, I’m thinking that’s exactly what happened, especially after I had the pleasure of meeting that Bronson dude. He’s full of himself—an egomaniac on a power trip. Thinks he’s God’s gift to women too, and he’s not even that good-looking, but he tries to make up for it by being smarmy.”
Chad’s eyes perked up. “Did you say smarmy?”
“Yeah, skeevy. Like when a man goes out of his way to be overly nice to a woman…but he’s full of it. And his words basically drip out of his mouth like slime.” Sasha rolled her lips between her teeth. “He’s a monster, a sleazeball of the highest degree, and he doesn’t care who knows it, either. People follow him because they’re scared of him…and being a former club officer’s former old lady, I know what that’s like. But the shit he’s doing…I think it’s way beyond anything he was ever given permission to do by his superiors. Hell, I don’t think he even has superiors anymore. I think he’s acting on his own.”
Divided We Stand (What's Left of My World Book 4) Page 15
