A quaint little village of wooden and stone buildings rests in the middle of the field, spread out at least half a mile wide. Most of the buildings look fairly new. Cottages and sheds interspersed with older barn-like structures that are gray and weathered from age. An actual huge-ass waterwheel and stone shed occupies one side of the enclosure, which is built next to a waterfall and narrow river cascading out of the cliff. Most likely their power supply.
Off in the distance, I can see animals roaming around. Horses and cows maybe? It would explain the smell of cow shit last night, but how the hell had these animals survived these last eight years? I thought they were almost extinct...like dinosaurs.
There are other gated areas to our left, partitioned off and greener than the rest. Fields of crops, I think. Who the hell are these people? This whole area is a virtual plethora of provisions. No wonder Kip said they weren't interested in our puny supplies. What we are transporting is just a drop in the bucket compared to this.
“Jesus H. Christ. Did they bring us to fucking Southfork?” I mutter.
Gordon tears his eyes away from the impressive sight to glance at me in confusion.“Southfork?”
“Yeah. You know. Dallas, the TV show. The Ewings? JR?”
He shakes his head at me, looking even more confused than usual.
“Never mind,” I sigh. I know the reference is old and I only know of it because of my mom, but it’s always a disappointment when I waste good lines on these doofuses.
We follow Polly and Lewis down the hill toward one of the old barns off to the right, which has a line of people filing in and out. For a split second Badger crosses my mind. Maybe we should have checked in on him first, but the smell of bacon is stronger here and my stomach quivers in anticipation. Badger's not going anywhere. He can wait.
The building is packed with people of all ages. The whole compound must be in here getting breakfast. Tables and benches, filled to overflowing with food, take up the center of the room. A cafeteria line runs along the side all the way to the back of the barn; the odd latecomer still waddles in, looking for a meal. The hum of conversation drops off to a trickle as we meander inside. Hundreds of surprised eyes turn our way.
“Good morning,” Kip comes to greet us, smiling like she's the cafeteria hostess. “Hope you all slept well. Come in, come in. Help yourself to breakfast. Hey everyone, say hello to our new visitors.”
And like a signal has been given, conversation and talking starts up again. Shouts of “hello” and “welcome” meet our ears as we're ushered inside. People smile at us as we pass by....happy and friendly faces. It's kind of fucking spooky. They're almost too nice. Maybe they really are some brainwashed cult looking for new recruits. But apparently a cult that has bacon, so I don't let my unease bother me too much as I make my way straight to the shortest line of patrons. My growling stomach and watering mouth tell me any cult preaching we may endure will be well worth it as long as we get to eat.
Gordo starts hurrying his pace, trying to outrun me. He takes a serving tray from the side table and hops in front of me, cutting the line. Hell no. I give him a hard hip check, knocking him out of the way and grabbing the tin tray right out of his hands. I ignore his growling protest, too intent on the platters of steaming food laid out on display. Holy god. Even after most everyone here has already been fed, there's still so much of it. There are platters of bacon and ham. Mountains of steaming, bright yellow scrambled eggs. Real toast and golden corn muffins, and what appears to be a pile of blueberry pancakes nestled next to a vat of oatmeal so thick the serving spoon is standing straight up. No watered down gruel for these people. They are living like kings. After nearly breaking Gordon's neck to be first in line, I stand before the serving guy with the most overwhelmed expression. I don't know where to start.
“Hey,” he says, not the least bit impressed there's a mountain of food in front of him.
“Hey,” I respond back. It's followed by a moment of awkward silence as I wait for him to give me my rations.
“Soooo, what can I get you?”
You get to choose what you want? Holy crap on a biscuit. I've died and gone to heaven.
“Bacon,” I say stupidly.
“And maybe a brain,” Dom sneers from the back of the line. It elicits a few chuckles, but I don't care. I'm too mesmerized by the food.
“Bacon it is,” the cook dude says, and he piles at least six pieces on my plate. I swallow hard, trying to rid my mouth of the extra spit. “What else?”
I get to choose more? “What else can I have?”
The dude flashes an amused grin at my question. “Whatever and however much you want. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day around here, and Kip believes in being generous.”
A philosophy I couldn't agree more with, although Cookie would have a damned stroke at this blatant display of excess if she were here right now.
“All righty then. I'll take one serving of everything. No!” I interrupt him, and he stops what he's doing, tongs hovering above the platter of ham. “Make that two of everything.”
“You got it, Red.”
I love this dude so much right now I don't even mind that he's calling me that dreaded nickname.
A snort of disbelief hits my ears. “You actually gonna let him get away with calling you Red?”
I glance back over my shoulder at Luke knowing very well he's remembering the one and only time he made that painful mistake.
“As long as he's piling food on my plate, he can call me whatever he wants.”
He cocks an eyebrow at me. “You know you're being a food whore right now.”
“Damn right I am.” I don't even try to deny my excitement as I turn around with my platter of food, and take a huge bite of the salty strip of bacon. “Dress me in fishnets and put me on the corner, dude, cause I'm whoring it all the way.”
* * *
Oh my god. My stomach hurts so bad. Mom's old adage of my eyes being bigger than my stomach pops into my head as I groan out loud.
“Shouldn't have had that oatmeal,” I moan as I wrap both arms around my stomach and bend over the table in agony.
“Yeah.” Luke glances over at me sideways, pausing in his assault on his own platter of food. “That's what did it. The oatmeal. Had nothing to do with the mountain of scrambled eggs or the half a hog that was on your plate. It was the oatmeal.”
“Bite me.” My words hold no sting; however, since I just don't have the gumption. Besides, I'm not even really paying attention to him. I've been too busy watching Gordon for the past ten minutes or so. He's merely picking at his food and pretending not to watch Evie with the saddest puppy dog expression I've ever seen. Pathetic really. Evie has barely said two words since our rescue last night. And she chose to sit on the opposite end of the table from Gordon today. Something’s up. As if she's aware of his stare, she keeps her eyes glued on her oatmeal, refusing to look up.
I scoot over on the bench, closer to Gordon, and leave Luke to his breakfast in peace. “Trouble in paradise?” I whisper in his ear. I don't want the others overhearing. They'll tease him mercilessly if they notice the kid's lovesick pining. They're assholes like that.
“I don't know what you're talking about,” he sputters at me, his face flushing right to the tips of his ears.
“Come on kid, don't bother to lie. You two have been inseparable for a month.” I nod at Evie. “Now she won't even look at you. What's the scoop?”
He sends another quick glance her way to make sure she's not paying attention before dropping his fork into the pile of congealed eggs and sighs. “I think she's mad at me. She hasn't spoken to me since you guys rescued us. At first I just thought she was in shock, ya know? I mean, we went through a hell of a night. But she's tougher than that. And she's been talking fine to everyone else. Everyone that's not me.”
I nod in sympathy. “Yeah, she's mad at you. Probably blaming you for talking her into coming with you and nearly getting eaten alive. And really, do you blame
her? I'd be mad at you, too, if you made me do something so stupid.”
“You're not making me feel any better, Bix.” He scowls at me.
I laugh as I nudge his shoulder with mine. “Just chuck it in the fuck it bucket for now, kid. She'll get over it. She's just pissed you put her and Scruff in danger. Give her a few days.”
At the mention of his name, the hairy monster pulls himself away from the admiration of a table of kids and waddles over to us, sticking his big head in Gordon's lap. Gordon picks up a couple of left over slices of ham and dangles them above the dog’s head. He snatches them quickly out of the air, losing a couple of strings of spittle in the process.
“Ugh,” I say in disgust as I look away. Seeing that is not helping settle my overstuffed stomach. Polly approaches our table, blocking the dog and his excessive salivating from my line of vision.
“Hope you all enjoyed breakfast.” Her white smile seems to be a permanent fixture on her freckled face and draws you in with its adorableness. I can see why Kip is using her as our contact instead of Ass-stick. Much more approachable. “I bring you news of your comrade. He slept through the night, no sign of infection or fever yet, although your doc friend says it's too soon to tell. He will need to be monitored for another twenty-four hours.”
My guilt at not checking on Badger comes rushing back. Hell, I hadn't even noticed Doc Howarth still wasn't with us. I had been so intent on the stupid bacon that I hadn't bothered with the rest of my crew. Luke is right. I am a food whore. My guilt is mirrored by his own expression as I catch his look. Some friends we are.
“So, I guess you guys are stuck here another day at least. Kip is holding morning service for the next hour or so. Those of you who are interested can attend. The church is the little white place, four buildings over to the right. Those of you who are interested in a tour, then the tour guide is at your service.” She bows low.
A religious service? No, too cultish for my liking. But a tour of this place? Now she's talking. I've been itching to get a good look at those animals we saw earlier.
“I think I will attend the service,” Evie speaks quietly as she gets to her feet. “Bix, could you keep an eye on Scruff?”
Her deliberate avoidance of Gordon is noticed by us both, but I don't say anything. I just nod my head in agreement. I can see he's itching to go with her, but he holds his tongue.
“I think I'll join you.” Kelly stands as well, and I glance up at him in surprise. I didn't take him to be the religious type. Shows you what I know. He walks with Evie out the door; Gordon's eyes following them every step of the way.
“Well, I want a ticket to the tour. How about you Gordo?” I ask the kid, trying to get his mind off of Evie.
“Sure.” His response is a bit lackluster.
“Luke?” I question. The blonde head turns my way as he stands up.
“Sounds like fun. But first I want to check on Badger for myself. Take him some breakfast maybe. Also want to have a word with Doc H. The rest of you go ahead. I'll catch up in a bit.”
“I'm going with you,” Doc Roger adds.
“Me too,” Robyn interjects and is on her feet following Luke before I can even blink.
Like Gordon, I'm left staring after them and biting my tongue in anger. What a sneaky move to spend time in Luke’s company. I so badly want to tag along after them but too late now. Instead, I smile brightly at Polly, hiding the tiny twinge of jealously.
“Let’s do this.”
* * *
The farm is undeniably genius. As crazy as Kip's daddy might have been, he prepared for everything. The waterwheel and wind turbines placed strategically around the property provide them enough energy to run the place like a real farm. They have cows for milk, chickens for eggs, pigs and turkeys for slaughter. The mountain stream supplies fresh water. There is an apple tree orchard, gardens on top of gardens growing potatoes, carrots, tomatoes, cucumbers. You name it, they grow it. It is practically a Garden of Eden, and it’s complete mystery how it has remained unscathed. There are people out there who would kill to live like this. How had they not been discovered yet?
So I ask. “Why hasn’t anyone found this place?”
“We've had a few run-ins over the years.” Polly replies to my question. Her permanent smile falters as she remembers. “Some not so very nice people have found us. Lucky for us, the late Mr. O'Hare also believed greatly in weapon stocking. Plus, our people are determined to keep this place safe. At all times, we have dozens of people on patrol, watching the perimeter. Watching the highway. No one gets close without us knowing about it. That's how we knew about you. And our latest diversion tends to make people avoid us like the proverbial second bad date.”
She points to the field of green, where I can see people moving about.
“The fields keep people away?” I ask in confusion.
“No, what's beyond the fields does.”
So I look further, shielding my eyes. “All I can see are the fields.”
Her smile is mysterious. “You'll see as we get closer.”
She wasn't joking. As we approach the fields, I can see off in the distance a fence up on a rise that looks mighty familiar....and the sight on the other side of it. Leeches, roaming past the fence and blocking the view. A living, stinking skyline.
“What the hell?” I breathe. “Are you people nuts?”
“Is that the same fence we saw from the highway?” Gordon asks, and I don't have to hear Polly's answer to know that it is. That's why it looks so familiar.
“Yes,” she answers, but I don't know if the yes is in response to Gordo's question or mine.
“Okay, why the hell would you have leeches crawling over your fence?” I shake my head in disbelief. “What if they take down the fence?”
“That won't happen.” She actually seems amused by my question. “What you can't tell from here is that is a double fence. If they do manage to take down the first fence—and that's a big if—the trench in between that one and the second fortified fence is built with traps and spikes. They won't make it to the second fence. We also have guards on that wall twenty-four/seven. Nothing is getting through.”
“That's all fine and dandy,” Mike says from the back. “But why do it in the first place? ‘Cause I assume you attract the leeches on purpose?”
She nods again. “The noise from the farm and the animals is enough to attract them, but to make sure they stay, we entice them with little bags of goodies.” Her grin falters a little. “We eat a lot of meat on the farm. ‘Nuff said, right? The smelly tidbits we leave seem to keep them interested enough to stay at the fence.”
“But again, why?” Mike asks a second time.
“Think about it, Mike.” I'm the one to answer him as it starts to make sense to me. “What did we think when we saw that field of leeches? Let’s get the fuck out of here. We were in no way, shape, or form going to investigate the fence through that wall of leeches. Much more productive in the way of defense than any fifteen foot stone wall. Genius, really.”
Polly sends her smile my way like she’s proud I figured it out. “Works like a charm. No one comes near it, and we stay hidden.”
“Still kind of freak-a-delic if you think about it, though.” Gordon peers at the leeches off in the distance, hand over his eyes.
Polly shrugs in response. “You get used to it. You guys want to see the fields? We have a small crop of pears just ripe for the picking. If we're lucky, Nat will let us pick one to eat.”
A pear? Are you kidding me? I haven't had one of those in years. My mouth starts watering just thinking about it, my upset stomach completely forgotten. There's always room for fruit.
The closer we get to the fields, the more movement we see. Adults and children alike, working side by side in the bright sunshine, tending the crops. A picture of pure peacefulness. Humans in harmony with nature. If it weren’t for the background of hovering, blood-sucking leeches, you could almost make yourself believe it's a normal farm in a normal wor
ld and that the last eight years had been some bad nightmare.
“So everyone here has a job?” I ask in amazement.
“Yep. You earn your keep, that's for sure. Everyone here pulls their weight. Everyone contributes.”
“Except for that bunch,” Gordon says, pointing a finger to a handful of people resting in the shade of a large fir tree. “They seem to be slackers.”
“Your kind of people, Gordo,” Mike teases and ignores the nasty word his younger brother hurls at him.
Polly laughs. “They're the new people Kip told you about. The ones we found wandering outside of Maple Haven. Their stamina is not quite up to par yet with ours, but they work to the best of their ability and earn their keep, just like everyone else.”
My curiosity is suddenly piqued, and I study them more closely. What's their story? I still don't believe what Kip said about them not remembering what happened to them. Group amnesia? That's a cock and bullshit story if I've ever heard one. But I do wonder where they came from. Are they survivors from St. Joseph’s, maybe?
They are dusty looking and sun burnt, obviously just having come from working in one of the fields. From what I can tell, it looks like four women and three men. One of the women is handing out bottles of water to the rest and turns at our approach. She is no more than a wisp of a thing and looks kind of familiar. She takes one look at us and takes a couple of steps back like we just scared the shit out of her. The man at her side grasps her shoulder and turns toward us, wondering what startled her so much.
I hear Gordon's shocked “Holy shit!” from over my shoulder at the same time my heart stops beating in my chest.
Curly black hair, longer than I remember, frames a face startlingly familiar, yet now so foreign to me. Eyes that used to caress me with warmth and love watch us with intense curiosity devoid of any recognition. My head starts spinning and a wave of nausea washes over me. I reach out, grabbing onto Gordon for support as my knees wobble, and my body threatens to buckle.
Strain of Defiance (Bixby Series Book 2) Page 11
