“Meaning?”
“I was raised around southern gentlemen; lots of cowboy types. Look around you. These boys don’t exactly fit the bill. I was caught off guard, that’s all. I wasn’t trying to steal your man.”
“What makes you think you could? What makes you think I was even worried?” Katia leans in, baring her teeth.
Lydia doesn’t move. Just keeps on smiling. I get the feeling that she’s used to dealing with other women feeling threatened by her. “I’m not here to argue or fight. I just came over to lay my cards on the table and, hopefully, make things right. We’ve got enough enemies to fight out there, no reason to be making new ones.”
The ice cracks and Katia slowly extends her hand. “Yeah, okay, fair point.”
Lydia seems overjoyed by the offering. She cups Katia’s hand in hers and gives it a vigorous shake before returning to her group.
“Proud of you.” I make like I’m about to pinch one of Katia’s cheeks.
She swats me away. “Hush.”
“My little girl is growing up so much.”
“I’m gonna beat you in front of God and everybody.” She holds a hand up to one side of her face, trying to hide the smile.
The pavement ends and soon we’re bumping down a narrow, dirt road, flanked by half dead trees on both sides.
“Rough ride will be over shortly, folks,” Guy assures us. He’s right, soon the brakes are squealing and we lurch to a stop.
We depart the bus in a single file line, each of us stopping to stretch and yawn. Katia twists her body around, cracking her back loudly and grunting as each vertebra surrenders to her will.
“Not quite what I’d envisioned,” Sonny says as he stands beside me in front of the bus.
I shake my head. “Not quite the picture I’d painted either.”
The settlement is on the other side of a five-foot tall, brown gate. The gate itself is a series of thin, rust coated, spear-like, metal bars, extending out of a black-and-white, hand stacked, stone base; climbing it poses a definite castration risk. The only way through is a narrow archway, barely wide enough to fit a single body. Guarding that archway are two handsomely dressed men with military grade weaponry, watching us exit the bus.
“That gate go all the way around?” I ask Guy as he steps in front of me.
“It does; one way in, one way out.”
“You build it?”
“Part of it was already here. Our work detail built what was missing.”
“Work detail?”
“Everyone plays a role in Próta.”
Katia takes my arm. “Place looks like something out of an old horror movie,” she whispers in my ear.
I can see where she’s coming from. The two-story houses that line the cobblestone streets are well past their prime, bearing water-stained brickwork and dust-coated windows, with the shutters hanging half open.
“Charming, isn’t it?”
“Not the first word I’d use, no,” Katia answers for both of us.
“She’s got a good personality, I promise.” Guy extends a hand, as if blessing the settlement. “We’ve done upgrades to a lot of these houses: ripped out and replaced floors, counters, cabinets, put in new appliances.”
“Electricity?”
“It’s spotty, but yeah, we’ve got generators; hot water, hot meals.” Guy swells with pride as he goes down the list of amenities.
Katia squeezes my arm tight. I expect her to squeal with excitement, but she doesn’t.
Lydia goes running past on our right, beating us to the archway. She hugs one of the guards. “Where’s father?”
“His study, last I heard.”
She dumps her weapon off on him. “Be a dear and see this finds its way back to the armory.”
“I’ll take care of it.”
“Father?” I am confused.
“Oh yeah, you didn’t know? Lydia is Daddy Trask’s daughter.” Guy’s voice trails off as he strides forward into the settlement.
Katia pinches her eyes shut and mouths a silent oops.
I pull her in close and kiss the top of her head. “You really know how to pick your enemies.”
12
The three of us follow Guy down the cobblestone streets of Próta. I can feel the eyes of the citizens watching us long before I see them. They lean from their windows; expressionless men, women, and children, observing us silently.
“It’s usually a lot more lively,” Guy assures us. “It’s supper time for most of us, time to wind down for the day.”
“They seem more interested in us than what’s on their table.” I wave to a little girl peeking at me from a first-floor bay window, her head tucked between a pair of white curtains, a stuffed rabbit clutched to her chest.
“They just like to know who’s coming and going, you know, get a read on who their new neighbors might be. It’s normal to be wary of new people, especially now.”
“Had trouble before?” Katia asks.
“Few months back, couple of biker types came through, started stirring things up. We shut it down pretty quick.”
“Anyone get hurt?” Sonny is carrying on like he’s the centerpiece in a Christmas parade, waving energetically to every new face he sees.
“Nah, a few lips got busted, some heavy words were thrown around, but it didn’t come to bullets and bodies. We haven’t had to go there since the beginning.”
“The beginning?” I ask.
“Just some thugs that thought the end of civilization was their golden ticket to live out their Mad Max fantasies; we shot them down and buried them beyond the fence line.”
“Gotta do what you gotta do,” Sonny says.
The street we’re on is a cul-de-sac. It opens up into a large circle, with five houses dotting the perimeter. The house sitting the furthest back differs from the rest. It’s the largest by far and looks like it’s had an extra room added; the brickwork is red and vibrant, lacking the water marks worn by the rest of the structure.
“I take it that’s the big man’s house?” It’s the well-armed men out front that are the real giveaway. They are dressed in suits and ties, standing in front of the house with rifles over their shoulders, chatting loudly, laughing at jokes I can’t quite make out.
“You assume correct. That’s his personal guard detail.”
“They seem a little distracted,” Katia says.
“They’re just unwinding. Don’t let the merriment fool you, they’re all business when the time calls for it. They saw y’all coming as soon as you rounded the bend. If they thought you were a threat, their weapons would have been up long before you ever reached this point. They’re the best we’ve got.”
“Hmmm,” Katia sounds unconvinced, but she doesn’t press it, something I’m thankful for; she’s already stepped in enough shit for one day.
Guy approaches the guard detail and exchanges handshakes and backslaps. “Fellas, this is Tim, Katia, and…”
“Sonny.”
“Ah, yeah, sorry, Sonny.”
Sonny sighs and ducks his head, looking like the last kid chosen for the pickup game.
“I’m here to introduce them to Daddy Trask.”
One of the guards strides towards us. “Weapons,” the commanding presence in his voice is a direct contradiction to his baby-face.
“The hell—” Katia starts.
“Easy, it’s not just you.” Guy leads by example, handing his rifle off to one of the guards. “We’ve all gotta do it. No one carries in Daddy Trask’s house except for these guys. You’ll get them back; you’ve got my word.”
Katia looks to me and I nod. She grumbles and unbuckles her swords, shoving them against the guard’s chest and crossing her arms while Sonny and I follow suit.
“Right this way,” Guy says once we’ve all been properly disarmed.
The inside of the house smells like shoe polish; everything is shiny and wooden, right down to the floors and fixtures. It’s an open space design. The foyer runs into the living room,
and the living room runs into the kitchen and so on and so forth. In the living room, there are three guys camped out on a large, half-circle, beige sofa. Their legs are kicked up on a glass-topped coffee table. They’re all wearing dress shirts and ties and are strapped with rifles and handguns.
“Just follow me this way.” Guy leads us up a creaky, winding staircase. We can hear muffled voices and laughter. “Sounds like we are going to catch him in the middle of movie time.”
“Movie time?”
“Yes, indeed. Daddy Trask has quite the film collection.”
“Are you serious? What’s left of the world is barely scraping by, and this guy is in his mini-mansion watching movies under armed guard? Disgusting.” Katia’s rebuke echoes off the walls and ceiling.
“I can see how it would come off as strange to you. You’ve been killing and scrounging to survive. But the message of Próta, and it’s one that Mr. Trask is sure to drive home whenever he gets the chance to speak at length, is that it doesn’t have to be that way anymore. We should be doing everything in our power to reattach ourselves to our humanity, everything in our power to achieve that sense of normalcy that was lost.”
“Uh-huh,” Katia sniffs and scratches at the bridge of her nose, “sounds like a bunch of kids playing make believe.”
“You’ll get used to it.” Guy turns at the top of the stairs, offering Katia his hand as she makes the final few steps; she caves and grants him the tips of her fingers. “You just need a little taste of the possibilities.”
“Been down that road before. It sounds good, but it’s easier said than done.”
“It’s a different road, better conditions.” Guy walks to a set of large double doors and grips both handles. “Come on, I’ll introduce y’all.”
We file inside; me, then Katia, then Sonny, followed by Guy. Something about it reminds me of my old living room. Perhaps it’s the lighting; the three solitary bulbs lining the wobbly ceiling fan. Perhaps it’s the wall décor; abstract images, spread across sixteen-by-twenty canvases, painted in vivid purples, greens, pinks, and blues—Momma loved her wall art. Perhaps it’s the way Lydia is curled up next to the man I can only assume is her father—light brown comb-over, deeply lined, leather skin, charcoal suit with a red tie—watching television and laughing; I used to do that with Bethany and Momma. Perhaps it’s the Woody Allen film lighting up the wall-mounted, flat-screen television.
“Oh, man, give me a second, I know this one, I know this one!” I walk up behind the couch, hands clasped across my lips, as giddy as a freshly crowned prom queen. “Crimes and Misdemeanors!”
Lydia’s father raises a remote and the picture on the screen goes still, right in the middle of the dinner party scene. He gives Lydia a kiss on the cheek and stands. “You know your movies.” He hooks his thumbs in the front of his slacks, extending his belly towards me.
“I know Woody Allen.” I’m not trying to correct him, but ninety-five percent of the films I’ve watched have involved Woody Allen in some form or fashion.
“Big fan?”
“You could say that.” My eyes dart between him and the image on the screen. “I’ve never seen it look that good. Blu-ray?”
He nods. “It is indeed. It was actually this fine, young man behind you that procured it for me; quite recently in fact.”
Guy takes a bow.
“Nice find,” my voice trails off as I continue to examine the screen; it looks so damn crisp!
“So, I take it by the hat that you’re Tim, the boy Lydia was telling me about. I’m Ronald, Ronald Trask.”
It takes me a few seconds before I notice his outstretched hand. “Oh, yeah, I’m Tim.”
Lydia is now standing on the tips of her toes behind her father, chin on his shoulder, smiling at me.
Katia appears beside me, arms around my waist.
“And my daughter told me all about you.”
“I’m sure she did.” Katia flashes a vicious smile at Lydia.
Ronald doesn’t offer Katia his hand; I think he knows she wouldn’t take it anyway. “Well, I trust we’ll all be friends. And you, good sir?”
“The name is Sonny, nice to meet you, Mr. Trask. Beautiful place you got here.”
“Call me Ronald, please; no formalities necessary. And thank you, we’ve put a fair amount of blood, sweat, and tears into it.”
“The rest of the people here got this sort of setup?” Katia asks.
Ronald turns left and then right, looking around the room as if he doesn’t quite get what she means by setup. “Everyone lives comfortably, if that’s what you’re implying. I’m not responsible for what the people here have or don’t have. Everyone goes out and gathers what they can. I’m sorry. I’m not really sure how to answer your question.” He laughs uncomfortably.
“Okay, we’ll try another one. Does everyone have people like Guy bringing gifts to their doorstep? Is everyone under armed guard?”
“This girl,” Ronald never loses his cheek-straining smile, “she’s something.”
“She’s a firecracker,” Guy quips.
“She’s something alright,” Lydia says flatly.
A thick blanket of tension begins to warm the room, but Ronald takes it upon himself to rip it away. “Why don’t y’all settle down with us and finish the movie?”
“Absolutely, we’d love to.” I slip away from Katia and hustle around the back of the couch, finding a spot in the middle of the floor, a foot away from the television.
For the next eighty-five minutes, I lose myself. My eyes go bloodshot. My back throbs from my bad posture. My ass aches from the hardwood. I don’t know where Katia and Sonny go and frankly I don’t care.
For the first time since I left Watkinsville, I feel like I’m home.
13
Ronald stands with us in front of his house, Lydia under one arm, his personal guard at his back; they seem a bit more relaxed than before. The sun is down, the moon is secluded behind a thin curtain of cloud, and the crickets are chirping.
“So did you enjoy the movie?”
“It was fantastic, thank you for that; it was a much-needed break.”
Sonny makes a humming noise and shrugs. “I’d never seen it before. It was alright. Never really went in much for the old stuff.”
Ronald’s laugh is plastic, a bit too forced, but whatever, he’s a nice guy. “Hey now,” he punches Sonny in the arm, “I know I’ve got some miles on me, you don’t have to rub it in.”
“You look wonderful, Daddy.” Lydia kisses him on the cheek.
He pats the top of her hand. “My sweet daughter. What about you, Katia? Hope we didn’t bore you too much.”
“Nah, it’s all good.”
“All good?” Ronald parrots. “Kids and their lingo; even with a daughter of my own, I still can’t make heads or tails of it.”
“That’s not really a phrase I’d use, Daddy.” Lydia’s smile is sugar sweet as she tilts her head towards Katia.
Katia doesn’t say anything back, she just stares at the ground, grinding her heel into the cobblestone, most likely imagining Lydia’s face beneath it.
A man approaches from behind us, shoving through me and Katia without so much as an excuse me.
“Sir, the perimeter is secure. All of the floodlights are in working order. Is there anything else you need me to take care of before I head home?”
“Not at the moment, Daniel. I do have some people I’d like you to meet.”
Daniel turns to face us: bald head shining in the floodlights, puckered scar beneath his right eye, a noticeable twitch pulsating across his top lip—he looks like a Bond villain.
“Daniel, this is Tim, Sonny, and Katia. Daniel is head of security around these parts.”
Daniel doesn’t offer to shake our hands. He grants a fleeting smile and turns back to Ronald. “I’ll be off. You know where to find me.” We make room for him this time as he retreats past us.
“Yes, well,” Ronald sounds apologetic, “he’s not the most soci
al creature, but he’s kept us safe, and you can’t ask for much more than that from a guy in his position.”
I watch Daniel go, until he disappears beyond the floodlights. “No, I suppose you can’t.”
“Y’all had many attacks?” Sonny asks.
“From the Skin Eaters?” Ronald shakes his head. “Not really. A handful, maybe. We were well armed when we moved in. We knew what we were dealing with; not like early on. This place is a fortress now. Nothing is getting in or out unless we want it to.”
“Y’all can sleep sound tonight,” Lydia chimes.
“No watch duty!” Sonny cheers.
We all laugh. Even Katia gives a little snicker.
“I’m sure you’re tired, so I’ll let Guy show you to your quarters.”
Katia prods me in the side with her elbow.
“Oh yeah, Ronald, one thing. On the way in, we were told you’d maybe be able to help us. You see, we’re trying to get to Washington.”
“To our mother settlement, yes. My daughter told me all about your journey and the unfortunate events that have befallen you. We do have a secure transport that comes through and runs people up there, but they’re not due back through here for another week or so.”
Katia gives a frustrated sigh.
“But perhaps we can work something out. Come by my house tomorrow, after lunch. We’ll talk.”
***
The house they put us up in looks like all the rest on the outside, but on the inside it’s equipped with the bare essentials. It’s strictly a guest house, according to Guy. No big deal. Four walls and a roof are good with me. The bed and the armed security outside is a bonus.
Katia and I take one of the upstairs rooms.
“For some reason, I feel like you’re losing sight of the mission.”
“Huh?”
Katia is standing on the opposite side of the bed, her arms are crossed just below her breasts; she’s got her T-shirt tied off to one side, it rises just above her navel.
The piercing.
The tattoo snaking around her waist.
The v-cut of her abs disappearing down the front of her low-rise blue jeans.
The Rabid: Fall Page 9
