by M. R. Forbes
He couldn’t begin to guess its purpose.
Further on, he could see people moving about across the length of his sightline, weaving around one another and in between a mixture of various sized tents, canopies, and aluminum paneled shanties, along with metal shipping containers and old RVs that probably hadn’t moved in over a century. Ground-based wires snaked among all of it, carrying current to some of the makeshift structures.
It was a maze, to be sure. A hub of high activity. A place where the people felt safe. They talked. They laughed. They made noise. There was an echo of old music somewhere further out of view, mingling with a second source playing a different genre somewhere else, fast and upbeat.
“Initial impression?” Lane said, watching him.
“Amazing,” Rhonna replied ahead of Hayden. “I never imagined anything like this was possible.”
“We’re the largest community I know of out here. And we’ve been six years without losing anyone inside the complex to a trife.”
“Six years?” Hayden said, turning toward Lane. “There are no trife in the area?”
“I didn’t say that. There’s a nest, a big one, two klicks south of here, at the old Hudson Station.”
“They don’t attack you?”
“I didn’t say that either. They come through every once in a while. Scouts, mostly. We lock the building up tight. We put snipers on the rooftops. We quiet down. You’ll see later, there are people living outside the terminal too, on this side and over on the south side, near the old freight cars. They duck and cover where the trife can’t reach them.” He pointed to the wires. “We have a comm system that goes out to every station in the compound, inside and out. Copper wire. Old tech. Telephones.” He laughed. “We can ring everything at once if there’s an alert. Crosston was founded ninety-eight years ago last month. I probably don’t need to tell you that’s a long time to be surviving in one place out here.”
Hayden had to admit he was impressed. There had been survivors in places like Haven for a long time too, but they were living in underground garages, in scattered communities a quarter of Crosston’s apparent size. At least, they had been before Hayden arrived.
“Where do you draw power from?”
“Hudson Station. It’s still alive, thank the man above for modern power generation. It’s a Hamachi Fusion Center, rated for six hundred years. We’ve got about four hundred to go before we’re fucked.” He laughed. “Of course, you know that’s why the trife like it so much.”
Hayden nodded. “What about clean water?”
“Cisterns on the roof catch the rainwater. We’ve got more of them outside. Plus the river is close, and we pump some water in from there. We’ve managed to salvage quite a bit of equipment to keep things going. We have toilets, showers, even a spa tub if Loki likes you enough to let you use it. We grow vegetables on the roof, and we hunt trife. I’ve got about a hundred trife meat recipes.” He laughed again. “You can check your stuff with Opus there.”
Hayden looked to where Lane was motioning. The roll-up door led to a caged foyer of sorts, the inner gates of which were still closed. Opus was sitting behind an opening in the cage, at an old wooden desk that had seen much better days. There was another makeshift room behind him, composed of fencing with a metal door at the front and a heavy chain across it. He could see into the room, to rows of shelving stuffed with all kinds of items, everything from guns to clothes to an old stuffed bear whose head was slumping off the edge of a rack.
“Check our stuff?” Rhonna said.
“All personal effects get checked on arrival,” Lane said. “Don’t worry. It’s still yours. Like I said, we aren’t thieves. Opus will give you a receipt, and in a couple of days, we’ll provide a full itemized list of everything so you can use it to barter. Anything you don’t want to bargain you can withdraw, except for weapons. Just consider that our bank. It helps us keep Crosston from getting too congested with stuff. You can see it’s already a bit of a problem.”
“What if I tell you we can’t stay a couple of days?” Hayden asked.
“You have a lot of choices here, mongrel. A lot of options. That isn’t one of them. We need people like you.”
Hayden didn’t respond. He wasn’t in a position to argue. He walked over to where Opus was sitting, reaching through the opening in the fence and placing the satchel on the desk. Then he swung the rifle off his shoulder and laid it across the bag.
Opus looked up at him. He was a younger man, heavy, dressed in an old t-shirt and shorts, his stomach rounding over the edge of the desk. He had black hair and big brown eyes with dark circles beneath them, making him look like he was exhausted by his job of sitting there.
“Hello,” Hayden said to him.
Opus grabbed an old piece of paper from a drawer. He wrote “15” on both ends and then tore it in half, passing one end to Hayden.
Another man took the rifle and the satchel from the desk, carrying it to the locked door. A third opened the lock and removed the chain, letting the man in. Hayden watched him through the fencing as he placed the gun and satchel on one of the shelves, and stuck the piece of paper to a nail driven into it.
“What about you, Rhonna?” Lane said behind him. “Do you have anything to check in?”
“Nothing separate,” she replied. “Are we going to eat soon? I’m starving.”
Lane laughed. “Right after you meet Loki.”
“Thank you, Opus,” Hayden said, trying to make eye contact with the man.
He wouldn’t look at Hayden. He turned his head away without responding. To some people, it might have seemed that the kid was shy, but something in Hayden’s gut was telling him there was more to it than that. There was something off about Crosston, and it was more than the most obvious observation he could make.
Hayden shoved the piece of paper in his pocket, his hand touching Nathan’s ring as he did. He was glad Lane hadn’t noticed the slight bulge, or he probably would have made him check it with Opus too. He was reasonably sure anything that small would disappear from the so-called bank.
He turned around, looking at Lane and Rhonna. Her lips were spread slightly in a subconscious excited smile. The idea of a new community and a meal was appealing to her, enough that she had already forgotten all about Nathan and the Liberators, and their challenging escape.
He had a feeling she wasn’t going to stay that excited for long. It would only be a matter of time before she noticed the same thing he had.
“Lane,” Hayden said. “Where are all of the women?”
Chapter 34
Lane was silent for a few seconds. He stared back at Hayden, and then his eyes shifted to Rhonna. Her excitement was slowly fading from her face, her expression turning to fear as her mind began to process potential implications.
“It’s…complicated,” Lane said at last.
“What’s complicated?” Rhonna asked, stepping away from him and toward Hayden. She looked out into the terminal, scanning for females. She didn’t find any. “I don’t get it.”
“I’m going to take you to Loki now,” Lane said. He took a step toward the metal gate opposite the roll-up door, which started sliding closed.
Rhonna broke toward it without warning, her fight or flight reflexes urging her to run. Hayden reached for her, but she slipped beneath his grip, charging for the exit before it could seal. Not that there was anywhere to go. There were guards outside too.
A gunshot echoed in the terminal, and the floor beside Rhonna cracked from the impact of the slug. She stopped immediately, and then slowly turned around. Lane was holding his sidearm, aimed at her.
“I said, I’m going to take you to Loki now,” he repeated.
Rhonna glanced at Hayden. She was terrified. There was nothing he could do to help her. Not yet, anyway.
Lane motioned with the gun. “Let’s go.”
He led them back to the metal gate. A guard behind it unlocked it and slid it open, allowing them into the terminal. A few of the res
idents had frozen to look in the direction of the gunshot, but they ducked their heads away and continued with their business, seemingly afraid to linger too long in one place.
Lane took the lead, one of the other guards from the car falling in behind them. They walked straight down the center of the terminal floor, winding around the shanties and containers and tents. The people in their path scurried to get out of the way, keeping their eyes down the entire time. They were men. Every last one of them. Some young. Some old. No women. No small children. It was unnerving.
They walked nearly half a kilometer, before finally reaching a sudden clearing in the dense thick of the community. Squares of crushed metal likely taken from the junkyard had been arranged and stacked in a meter-high square that created a short wall around a large RV resting in the center. There were dozens of mats and rugs circling the vehicle, as well as a number of pots with flowering plants growing out of them, giving the space a feeling of an oasis in the midst of the sprawl.
The vehicle itself was black and brown and chrome, slightly rusted, slightly dirty, but much better cared-for than anything else Hayden had seen in a while. Fifteen meters long, nearly three meters wide, it sat diagonally across the square, an anachronistic behemoth of past luxury. A door on the side of it hung open, and Hayden could make out steps leading up into the mechanical beast.
“Wait here,” Lane said. He walked through the small opening in the wall and across to the RVs open door. “Loki, I brought you new members.”
He didn’t wait for a response, immediately backing away from the vehicle. He motioned for them to enter the square.
“He’ll be out in a minute,” he said.
They waited nearly five minutes for someone to appear at the doorway into the RV. Then a woman appeared, stepping out onto the rugs. She was tall and thin, with long blonde hair and blue eyes. She had a delicate face, soft, pale skin, and was wearing a white, off the shoulder dress with red roses embroidered across the light material. She looked as out of time as the motorhome. Too clean. Too bright. Too perfect. It made Hayden more uneasy than anything else he might have expected.
Instead of approaching, she took a step to her left and put up a gloved hand. Another figure appeared in the doorway a moment later. He took her hand as he came down onto the floor. Like her, he was dressed in clothes that were too fine for this world. A gray suit, white shirt, and gray vest. A purple ascot. A pair of shiny black leather shoes. He wore thick, black-rimmed glasses over a pointed, handsome narrow face slightly wrinkled with age. His hair was salt and pepper, his eyes dark. He smiled when he saw them, a look of complete confidence spreading around him like a bubble.
He started walking over, holding the woman’s hand delicately in his. They moved in sync to one another, almost too perfectly, as though they were about to start dancing.
“Welcome,” the man said, looking at Hayden. “Welcome to Crosston.” He took a step back. “My name is Loki. This is my wife, Isabelle. We’re the head of the household here. Father and Mother.”
“A pleasure,” Isabelle said, curtsying slightly.
His eyes fell on Hayden again. “Look at you,” he said. “Look at you.” He clicked his tongue a few times and then glanced at Lane. “Where did you find this one?”
“They were in the junkyard, Father,” Lane said. “The nomads were giving them a hard time.”
“The nomads?” He shook his head. “You’ve been traveling a long time, haven’t you? I can see it on your face. The descendant of a Marine. I have a feeling those horse fuckers wouldn’t have been very happy with the results when they tried to shake you down. Crosston can always use men like you.” He stepped toward Hayden again, reaching up and squeezing his bicep. “Strong. Solid. What’s this?” He used a finger to fold back one of the many tears in Hayden’s black fatigues. He ran it along the outside of the bodysuit. “I’m not familiar with this material.”
“It’s armor,” Hayden said, stepping back from Loki to get his hand off him. “It’s mine.”
Loki put up his hands in feigned innocence. “My apologies, sir. I meant no disrespect. My curiosity gets the best of me sometimes. What is your name?”
“Hayden.”
“Hayden. A strong name. Where are you from?”
“The west coast.”
“Really?” Loki smiled widely. “Do you hear that, Mother?”
“Yes, Father. It is impressive.”
“Yes, it is. You came across the entire country, did you? Tell me, Hayden, what’s it like out there? You must have seen so many things.”
“It’s pretty much the same everywhere,” Hayden said.
“Well, of course. The trife didn’t just decide to visit New Jersey.” He laughed in a too-highly pitched cackle. “Well, you’re here now. I’m sure Lane has told you how things work in Crosston?”
Hayden hesitated a moment, wanting to choose his words. It wouldn’t help to make an enemy of this man, even if he already considered him one. It hadn’t escaped his attention that Loki was completely ignoring Rhonna. He hadn’t welcomed her. He hadn’t looked at her.
“He told me you would prefer if we stay.”
Loki cackled again. “That’s one way of putting it, I suppose. But no, that makes it sound as if you have a choice.” All of the mirth drained from his face, the sunshine replaced with a sudden storm of anger. “If you wanted to stay free of Crosston, you should never have come near Crosston. If I have to stick you in a cage submerged up to your fucking eyeballs, you will become a willing and happy citizen of this community. Do you understand?”
Hayden refused to meet Loki’s anger with his own. He simply nodded. “I understand. What about my wife?”
Loki’s expression shifted again as if he had never been angry at all. “We don’t have many rules here in Crosston, Hayden. One, do your part. Two, be cordial. Three, no wives.” He finally looked at Rhonna.
“You have a wife,” Hayden said.
Isabelle’s hand slapped him in the face before he knew what was happening, the force of the blow too powerful for her gloved hand to be natural. His head rocked to the side, his cheek stinging and throbbing. Any harder, and she would have knocked out his teeth and broken his jaw.
He straightened up, refusing to show the pain.
“I am an exception,” Isabelle said. “Because I am exceptional.” She looked at Rhonna. “This one is defective. Her face is ruined. Her skin is a mess. Father, I’m not sure we can barter her.”
“Barter?” Rhonna said. “Sheriff?” She looked at Hayden.
“Sheriff?” Loki said, picking up on it. “What does she mean, Sheriff? I’ve heard that word before.”
“A Sheriff is a lawman, Father,” Isabelle said. “A keeper of the peace.”
Loki’s mouth opened in pleased surprise. “I see. So you have experience. I didn’t realize there was any law left anywhere in this world, besides the ones we make ourselves.”
“Some places still try to maintain order,” Hayden said. “What do you mean by barter? You can’t just take my wife from me.”
“I can’t?” Loki asked. He turned to Isabelle. “Mother, did you hear that? I can’t just take his wife from him.”
Isabelle started laughing. Loki laughed too. Hayden’s hand started balling into an angry fist.
“I’m taking your wife from you, Hayden. Rule three. No fucking wives. Do you want to know why? Because wives bring the Liberators. Wives bring General Stacker. And when General Stacker comes, Crosstons die. We need to cut that off at the root. Prune it and keep it healthy. Lane, take that one out to the pen and get a car ready. Tinker doesn’t care if they’re scarred or burned, he only cares that they’re female. He’ll be happy to know we haven’t been holding out on him.”
“Yes, Father,” Lane said. He reached for Rhonna.
“Sheriff,” Rhonna said, her voice small. “Help.”
Hayden stepped between Lane and Rhonna. “You aren’t taking her,” he said. He looked at Loki. “You’re going to make
an exception for her.”
Loki smiled. “No, I’m not.”
Lane drew his gun. The other guard did the same. Hayden glared at the men, blocking them from Rhonna.
“What does he do with them?” he asked. “Why does Tinker want women?”
“I don’t know,” Lane replied. “He just does. We can either trade them or he’ll take them by force. We can’t stop it. Nobody can. If you wandered around out here a while, you would have seen. It’s the same for the nomads. The same everywhere.”
“It doesn’t have to be that way.”
“Sorry, mongrel. It does. Move aside.”
Loki and Isabelle had taken a step back, leaving the guards clear to claim Rhonna. She cowered behind Hayden. He could hear her sobbing.
He couldn’t take on all of the guards by himself. He couldn’t get her out of this. Not like that, anyway.
He faked toward Lane, causing the man to thrust his gun forward. Then he broke left, diving at Loki. He barrelled into him, knocking him over and wrapping his hand around the man’s neck, using his knees to hold him in place on the ground.
“We’re walking out of here,” Hayden said, looking down at him. “You and me and Rhonna. Got it?”
Loki didn’t answer. Hayden caught motion out of the corner of his eye. Isabelle’s foot was coming up toward his chest, swinging like she was about to kick a ball.
It hit him like a sledgehammer, driving him up into the air, only the bodysuit saving his ribs from breaking. His hand released from Loki’s neck as he tumbled off the side of him and onto his back.
Isabelle was on him before he could move, jumping onto him and planting a foot on his chest, strong enough to keep him pinned to the ground. He could see up her skirt from his position, following the line of perfect pale flesh to the darker area between her legs, where there should have been the outline of a vulva beneath a pair of panties.
