“You two get these rooms, I’ll get the one at the end,” Gabe says.
A few seconds later, he raps his knuckles on my door.
“Open up!” he shouts. I stand and walk to the door. I unlock it and Gabe pushes through the entrance. I can’t help but jump back as he comes in. “Paxton’s furious,” he whispers to me.
“Does he know anything?” I ask.
“Where is it?” he says.
“I can’t give it to you, because he’ll know I took it!”
“Where is it?” he repeats.
“Under the mattress,” I say, looking down at the floor.
Two sets of footsteps come walking toward the door, and when I look up I see two large men who I recognize as patrolmen on the outer wall. One of them wears a sleeveless shirt like a moron, even though it’s cold outside, no doubt to show off his giant muscles. The other doesn’t seem quite as dumb, but still big and burly, with his beard falling to the top of his chest.
“Those two rooms are empty, boss,” beardy says. “No one is living there.”
“Boss?” I ask Gabe, unable to contain my grin.
He shakes his head and looks at the two guards. “You,” he points to beardy, “check in the bathroom. You check the couch, I’ll check the bed.”
“You got it,” sleeveless answers.
Gabe sighs and walks to the side of my bed. His hair is pulled back today and the bags under his eyes make it seem like he didn’t get much sleep last night. I wonder if I look the same. I didn’t sleep much at all—listening to Paxton bark out orders, listening to the guards talk about their theories of what might be going on. It actually made for quite an entertaining experience. The conversations ranged from Paxton seeing a ghost to the possibility of there being greyskins inside the town. But the most popular theory was that Paxton had slept so little that he had only thought he saw something. Of course, I’m sure by now they all know that a journal and gun were stolen, so those theories went out the window.
Gabe tousles the sheets and pulls up the mattress to look as though he’s trying to find something. When it seems messy enough, he stands and looks at me, clearly displeased. It didn’t occur to me until now that he had probably already known about the gun. I bite my lower lip and raise an eyebrow at him as the other two guards come near us.
“Did you find what you were looking for?” I ask.
“No,” Gabe says, not taking his eyes away from mine. “Looks like we’ll have to search all of the other apartments until we do.” He finally turns to the other guards and instructs them to move on to the next apartment. When they leave the room, Gabe walks up close to me and whispers in my ear. “I want to talk to you this evening.”
“It’s a date,” I say.
He steps back from me and shakes his head, clearly not wanting to joke, but I just bite my lip again and smile. After what I did, I doubt he’s going to want me in with the soldiers, but at least he gave me some time to get rid of the journal. He doesn’t say anything as he leaves the room, and I stand here in the quiet for a few moments.
I shouldn’t have taken the gun. The look of disappointment in Gabe’s eyes was enough to make me feel sick to my stomach. I know I haven’t known him for a long time, but people get closer faster in this new life, and what Gabe thinks of me is kind of important. But I needed the gun. Having it under my mattress last night gave me such a sense of comfort and protection. I’m sure if I hadn’t been busy listening in on soldier conversations the whole night I might have slept well. And I know I will sleep well with it under my mattress tonight. And why shouldn’t I have a gun? How could the citizens here be okay with a law that strips from them their only means of protection? I was never okay with it, but I was forced to accept it.
No longer.
I listen for the next few minutes as Gabe and his two cronies search the other apartments below me. As I turn my ear across the town to other apartment buildings, I can hear some guards searching the rooms frantically, while others explain courteously why they have to barge into the home and look for something that someone stole. I’m sure Gabe doesn’t think all this fuss is worth it.
I meet him later in the evening when the search has stalled. I sit on a bench next to one of the gardens a couple of streets down from Main Street as he stands next to a wall nearby. There are hardly ever people in this part of the town, so it’s a good place for a private conversation. The entire settlement seems to be on edge after having their homes searched and raided. Some are complaining to the guards publicly, others demanding to see Paxton. I think Gabe is just happy to be sitting away from the commotion.
“Before all this crap started, I used to smoke,” he says, rubbing the stubble on his face.
“The greyskin crap?” I ask.
He nods and turns his head to me. “Cigarettes became pretty scarce in the months after.”
“I bet,” I say. “I’ve never tried cigarettes, but I believe I’ve needed one a time or two.”
He laughs as he leans against the wall. His face then becomes very serious. “What did you find out?”
I shrug at him. “What’s it worth to you?” I ask playfully, pulling my knees up to my chest.
“I’m not in the mood for games, Remi,” he says, looking up and down the street. “I’m really uncomfortable with all this. Do you know how much trouble we can get in?”
“It’s just a stupid journal,” I say.
“And a gun!” he says in a harsh whisper. “I can’t begin to tell you how mad Paxton was last night.”
I know, I heard, I wanted to say.
“Why’d you take the gun, Remi, why?”
I look away from him, my knees leaving my chest, and I bend my head to stare at the ground. I sit for a moment, not wanting to say anything, not really knowing what to say. Should I tell him that having a gun helps me sleep? Do I tell him that three months ago I had been on the road where almost everywhere I went there were greyskins? Should I talk about all the times I was awoken by the gargling noises of the dead chasing after me, wanting nothing but to rip the muscle from my bones? What about all the nights for the past three months since I’ve been safe where all I can do is dream about greyskins coming after me, and of all the people that I’ve lost?
My eyes go from the ground to Gabe. “Why did you take my gun?” I ask, standing to my feet. I take a few steps closer to him. “Answer me that.”
“Those are the rules,” he says.
I take another step forward and shove his chest. He reaches out to try and stop me, but I just shove him again until he’s standing upright, no longer leaning against the wall. His eyebrows dart downward as he stares at me.
“Your rules leave these people defenseless. They leave me defenseless.”
“They aren’t my rules,” Gabe says. “I can no more change them than you can.”
I turn away from him and walk back to the bench, but I don’t sit.
“That’s why you want to be a soldier, isn’t it?” he asks.
I don’t answer him. The answer is obvious.
“I had no idea, Remi, I’m sorry.”
“You shouldn’t be,” I say. I turn back to face him, but I don’t look up. “The gun was there, so I took it. I can’t explain it to you, but it’s just instinct now. And instinct tells me to keep it.”
“If you’re caught with that thing, Paxton will kick you out,” Gabe says.
“I know.”
“It would be best for you to get rid of it.”
“You clearly don’t understand,” I say.
“I do,” he says. “Get rid of it and be a soldier here.”
My eyes light up at his words. “Do you mean that?”
“Well, you have to hold up your end of the bargain,” he says with a smile. “But yeah.”
“You’re going to be disappointed with my end of the bargain,” I say. “Or relieved, I’m not sure what you’re looking for exactly.”
Gabe shrugs and moves closer to me. I hate it that my heart beats har
der when he is near me.
“Shadowface is just a supplier,” I tell him. “The journal says nothing about who he is or where he comes from. It’s nothing more than a book of minutes that Paxton keeps locked in the desk. Anyway, Shadowface came up less than a year ago, and throughout the journal he is only mentioned when the elders need something.”
Gabe nods as he takes the words in.
“It doesn’t sound that strange to me,” I say. “In fact, it sounds like a good idea. Though, I’m a little surprised that you don’t know about it, being the lead scout and all. Don’t you go for supply runs? Don’t you see shipments that Shadowface brings in?”
“I go for supply runs, but I rarely bring anything good back,” he says. “In fact, the only times we’ve ever scored decent supplies is when Paxton and an elder go out themselves.”
“They go on supply runs?” I ask.
“They go every so often,” Gabe says. “Apparently their runs aren’t like ours. Looks like they’re meeting with their buddy, Shadowface.”
“What does Paxton have to trade Shadowface for all the ammo and extra supplies?”
Gabe shakes his head. “No idea. It’s odd to tell you the truth.”
“You going to do more digging?” I ask.
“Not now,” Gabe says. “Maybe not for a little while. Paxton is hell-bent on finding out who stole the journal and gun. Best not to be doing anymore snooping around for a bit.” He stares at me for a few moments and squints his eyes. “Couldn’t you have stolen the stuff in a more unnoticeable fashion?”
I lower my head and smile.
“You left papers on the floor,” Gabe says, “the drawer was left open, the gun was gone. If you would have just taken the journal and tidied everything up a bit, Paxton might have thought he just misplaced it or something.”
“What can I say? I’m used to chaos.”
Gabe let out a huff and started walking back toward Main Street as I walked slowly behind him. “I really do need a cigarette,” he says under his breath.
I don’t really know what time it is when I find my way back to the apartment. When I pull up the mattress, I’m glad to see that the journal and gun are still there. I don’t know why, but I felt that for some reason my apartment might have been given an extra search while I was out. As vehement as Paxton seemed, I wouldn’t be surprised. I grab the journal and tuck it under my shirt. I then reach for the gun, but my hand stops. Am I really just going to dump this somewhere? I sit for a moment, staring at it, thinking. I sigh and cover it back up with the mattress and walk out of the apartment.
I don’t stop until I’ve reached the other side of Main Street. It’s probably a really bad idea to go toward Headquarters to leave the journal, but I also know it will be the least expected move. I walk nonchalantly past the front of the building and into the alley on the left side. When I stand in front of the dumpster, I look from side to side to make sure no one is watching. Satisfied, I pull the journal from my shirt and toss it in and immediately start walking back toward Main Street. No one sees me.
When I startle awake the next morning, I feel the coolness of metal at my palms. My groggy eyes widen when I see the pistol clutched in my right hand with the hammer pulled back. I let go of it and it rests safely on the sheets. I swallow hard, unable to take my eyes away from it. I try to think about the night, but I have no memory of waking up and getting the pistol out from under the mattress. Knowing that I did that makes me sick to my stomach. I reach for it and pull the magazine out, and snap the remaining bullet from the chamber. I then let the gun drop to the ground.
My hands are shaking. I don’t even remember dreaming last night. I must have been in a deep sleep. I pull my hands close to me and warm them under my armpits. I should have just dumped the pistol in the trash with the journal. What is wrong with me, thinking I need a gun? The rule for taking guns away from the common citizen is probably because of people like me in the first place. Crestwood probably started with a bunch of crazies waking up in the middle of the night, shooting neighbors they thought were greyskins.
I pull my hands away from my armpits and rub them through my hair. I can feel the grease from going a couple of days without a shower. Before I had come to Crestwood, a shower was something that could get me killed. Sure, there were plenty of them around, just pick a house. But greyskins love to hang out in abandoned houses.
I turn on the water as hot as it will go, but the lack of steam tells me there will be no hot water this morning. I let out a sigh and pull off my clothes and step in, letting the cold water take my breath away. Sometimes the water’s cold, sometimes it’s hot. Today it’s freezing. At least I’ll be alert.
I’m not expecting Gabe to meet me when I walk out of the apartment building, but he’s a pleasant sight. Smiling, he walks up next to me. “You’re coming out today,” he says.
“What?” I stop in the middle of the road and stare at him.
“I got it cleared. You’re coming out with us. The soldiers.”
“Just like that? I’m a soldier?”
Gabe holds out a hand as if to steady me. “Oh, well, I didn’t say that. I said you’re coming out with us. In order to be a soldier, you have to show us how you can handle yourself.”
“Oh, well that’s not a problem,” I say. “Is there like a shooting range you use or something?”
Gabe shakes his head. “No. We’re going outside the walls. A supply run. And you’re coming with us.”
My eyebrows turn downward. “What if we don’t encounter any greyskins?” I ask.
His words turn my insides to ice. “We will,” he says. “Where we’re going is a hot territory.” My heart pounds as he reaches out and places a hand on my shoulder. “But you already know that’s where the best stuff is. Be ready. We leave in a few hours.”
Chapter 7 - Waverly
“Yeah, looks like you got it good,” Gilbert says as he stands over the dead greyskin. He turns to face Ethan. “And you said it was right after I got in the SUV?”
Ethan nods.
Gilbert spits on the ground and shakes his head. “I must have been more tired than I realized. Good thing you guys were awake.”
I had planned to stay up the entire night, but a few hours in my eyes started to become heavy, and getting up to add branches to the fire did little to relieve my sleepiness. Ethan had noticed this and let me sleep the rest of the night as he sat watch, keeping the fire going until the sun came up.
“I wonder if that raider guy is looking for us,” Gilbert says as he sits next to the coals and begins rummaging through a bag, no doubt hoping to find a can of beans, soup, or something.
“Scarecrow is what I call him,” I say. When I’m met with a strange look, I shrug. “That’s what he looked like to me.”
“Scarecrow,” Ethan says as he sits next to me, palms up to the heat of the coals. “He did kind of look like one.”
Gilbert tosses the bag to the ground. “We’ve got no food,” he says. “But I was looking at a map earlier and there is a town not too far from here. About fifty miles. It’s a place called Foley. Either of you know it?” He is answered with silence. “Well, that’s where I think we should go. It’s our best bet at getting more food and hopefully some fuel. If we can’t get gas there, we’ll only be good for another fifty miles then we’ll have to go on foot.”
“How far is Crestwood from here?” Ethan asks.
“About 350 miles,” he answers. “If we can get a full tank in Foley,” he holds up a finger, “we might be able to make it to Crestwood on one tank. Either way we should be able to get pretty close. If this works out right, we could be there by tonight.”
I didn’t expect it, but Gilbert’s words make me perk up. Yesterday, I hadn’t cared about finding a place that was safe and warm, but today is different. I feel the loss of Lucas no less than I did last night, but I know that the only way to survive is to move forward—to think forward. If we can be in Crestwood by tonight, it will be a large victory, but
it breaks my heart to know that Lucas was only two days away from protection.
“Sounds good to me,” Ethan says. “I just hope they take us in.”
“They will,” Gilbert says. “That’s their reputation.”
I know what Ethan and Gilbert mean. It’s hard being a traveler on the road all the time. Generally there are three types of people. First, there are those that are part of a group, village, or town, holed up in a secure or at least semi-secure location. Everything they do is done from their home base. Second, there are people like us—travelers who are looking for groups or villages to join, but rarely find success. People are wary of travelers because they often believe they are part of the third type of people—raiders. Raiders loot, murder and take over small groups, relying on people’s weaknesses in order to survive. Instead of going out and making runs at a hospital or deserted town, they take from those that have done so themselves. Raiders are the reason why it’s so hard to find a group to be a part of. Lucas and I had been traveling for three years and we had only recently heard that the town Crestwood opened its doors to people. Up until now, the two of us sought out temporary shelters in small villages for a month or two at a time. But those were often attacked and plundered so we were forced to keep moving. I just hope Crestwood isn’t too good to be true.
Ethan and I cover the fire pit with dirt while Gilbert shuffles through the back of the SUV again.
“If this works out,” Ethan says, “it will be the start of a new life. Just think what it will be like to not have to worry about things like sleeping.” He shakes his head. “I can’t wait.”
“We still have a long way to go,” I say.
“Hey guys,” Gilbert calls out to us, “come check this out.”
I kick dirt over the last bit of coals and the two of us walk to the back of the SUV.
“I didn’t think to check under the seat last night, but I found this,” he says, holding up a black briefcase.
“Is it locked?” Ethan asks.
The Starborn Ascension: Books 1, 2, and 3 (The Starborn Saga) Page 7
