by Stasia Black
“What now?” Charlie said, dropping his fork onto his empty plate and turning toward the door. Apparently the delicious food hadn’t done anything to improve his mood.
“I will get it,” Henry said when no one else moved. The Commander must have already left for the day because whoever was banging on the door was not going about it quietly.
Shouting voices filled the air as soon as Henry cracked the door.
“The preacher here?”
“Let us in. We heard Pastor Jonas was here. We need him.”
Henry looked irritated, Shay could tell from all the way across the room. “Do you have an appointment with him?”
“Well no, but this bastard here stole my—”
“Hey! Danny said we’d both get to say our side. You’re predispo— prendis— makin’ him turn against me before he’s even heard my side.”
“You don’t got a side. You stole my ration card. I saw you with extra bread and I swear I’m gonna—”
There was a brief scuffling noise and then a third voice shouted, “Men!”
The door was pushed open and Shay could finally see the three men standing on the door step. One was huge—absolutely a gigantic bear of a man—but very young. He couldn’t be more than twenty-five, if that. He was physically holding the other two men apart. They were smaller and while they were all wearing paint and dust-spattered clothing that marked them as construction workers, the denim shirts of the arguing men were far more threadbare and ratty.
“Sorry, Jonas, but I didn’t know where else to take them,” said the huge blond man. “If I haul them in to the Security Squadron Headquarters, Nix’ll just kick them both out of camp for stealing and fighting. They about tore up their dorm room. It’s this one’s third strike.” He jerked the slightly larger of the two men forward.
“It’s not my fault this time, Danny. I told you, he stole my ration card. I was just trying to retrieve my property. See Preach? This shit’s Biblical. Eye for an eye and all that.”
“That’s Mr. Hale to you, son,” Danny said even though the two couldn’t be that far apart in age, a warning in his voice.
Shay looked back at Jonas and was surprised to see his face had gone hard. “Danny, I told you the last time. I don’t do this shit anymore.”
Danny sighed. “Come on, you really gonna do this to me? Make me drag these two to Nix? You know he’ll kick them outta town. You want that on your conscience?”
Jonas’s gaze only went flintier. “Sounds good to me. Don’t need any troublemakers in town. And my conscience is doing just fine.”
Danny crossed his arms, which, considering how huge they were, was intimidating. “I didn’t want to have to do this. But you owe me. Remember three summers ago?”
Jonas’s nostrils flared and he stood up straight. “Fine, Daniel.”
Then he stood up even straighter. Shay blinked as the lounging slouch completely disappeared from his posture. Like he’d been playing a character in a movie before and now he was stepping back into real life.
He walked over to where the three men by the door stood, his shoulders military square. He looked between the two men with the dispute. “Tell me what happened, from the beginning.”
“He stole my—” one said right as the other started, “I was just minding my own business when he jumps me—”
Then they both looked at each other and shouted, “Liar!”
“So this missing ration card,” Jonas questioned, his voice clipped and commanding. “It hasn’t been found?”
Both men shook their heads.
Shay watched in fascination as Jonas’s focus narrowed in on the smaller of the two men. “Are you certain?” Jonas’s face was stern but as he continued, his voice gentled. “Because it’s understandable. You’re new to camp aren’t you? What’s your name? Anderson? Am I remembering that right?”
The man looked surprised but then his mouth went hard again. “What’s it to ya? How do you even know—?”
Jonas waved a hand. “I have a good memory and the Commander has me look over new resident applications. Correct me if I’m wrong, but you arrived to town two and a half days ago with the refugees out of Oklahoma, right?”
The man just nodded and Jonas continued. “Now, I think about a man like you. A man used to making his own rules up as he goes. And if you’ve only just come here, well that means you spent a helluva lotta years out there,” Jonas jerked a thumb toward the door. “And I’ve heard plenty of stories to know the things that go on outside Central Texas South are enough to break a man.”
Anderson stared at the floor, refusing to look Jonas in the eyes.
“So I guess what I’m saying is that it’d be more than understandable for you to come into the township and expect more of the same you found everywhere else. But I’m here to tell you, this place is special. Special in how we treat our women. And special in how we take care of one another. I promise you this—whenever you’re in Jacob’s Well Township, you’re—”
“What?” Anderson asked with a belligerent scoff, “Let me guess, when I’m here, I’m family?”
“No,” Jonas said, standing even taller and glaring the man down. Shay was a little taken aback by the authority that emanated from him. He seemed taller and… intimidating all of the sudden.
But at the same time, the way he was talking, well… Could Central Texas South and Jacob’s Well really be everything Jonas was saying it was? She’d had her own reasons for coming here and yes, the rumors about how well they treated their women were part of it. But she’d lived long enough in the post-Fall world to be suspicious of anything that sounded too good to be true.
“Family, you have to earn,” Jonas continued, dark eyes penetrating. “You have to work your ass off for the privilege, in fact. What I was going to say was, whenever you’re in Jacob’s Well Township, I promise that you’ll be afforded more dignity than anywhere else I’ve seen post-Fall.”
Shay swallowed hard at his words.
Dignity. It was a rare commodity these days. It’s probably just propaganda, she told herself. But she couldn’t look away from Jonas as he went on after a short pause.
“On your application to the Township,” Jonas said, “didn’t you mark down you had a son, recently deceased?”
Anderson’s face jerked up toward Jonas at that. His mouth was pursed, brow furrowed. He was angry. Defiant. But Shay read the sadness underneath, worn into every line of his face. Shay had no idea how old he actually was, but he looked ancient in spite of the fact that his hair was still dark brown. It was clear the world had made him old before his time.
“My boy made it so long. Eight years.” Anderson swallowed hard, but he didn’t look away from Jonas. “He was so little when it all started. And I kept him safe. Fought when we needed to fight. Hid him when we needed to hide. We feasted and starved together.” He shook his head, a distant sort of shock on his face. “Then he gets killed by an infected scratch on his leg he was too proud to tell me about till it was too late? How is that fair?”
“It’s not,” Jonas said swiftly. “It’s not fair. Nothing will ever make what happened to your son right. Or fair. And for that, I’m so, so sorry.”
By the devastation in Jonas’s eyes as he said it, Shay thought he really meant it too. It was as if… as if he was taking the man’s pain into himself. Either he was a sociopathically good actor or he was the real deal. She could see how he must have once been a powerful pastor.
He was the kind of man other men followed.
“And I won’t feed you some bullshit about how your son—what was his name?”
“Aaron.”
“I won’t give you some bullshit about how Aaron’s looking down on you from heaven and ask how you think it would make Aaron feel, watching you screw up your one chance in a lifetime at landing in a safe haven. I won’t ask what the point of all those years of struggle were worth if you just give up now. Or why you’d negate all those grueling years getting you and Aaron through the mud
and shit and piles of bodies and the burning Texas heat.”
“So what the fuck are you sayin, preacher?”
Shay held her breath. Was Jonas going to start in again about how shitty life was and that dirt naps were all they could hope for?
But the groove between Jonas’s eyebrows only grew deeper. “I’m saying there’s no good reason for any of it—the bombs, your son dying, all those people—” Jonas’s voice cut off and he swallowed hard, face dropping for a moment before he looked Anderson in the eye again.
“If there is a God, I’ll never forgive him for all that he’s allowed to happen. And if there’s a heaven, I’d rather go to hell than ever meet him face to face.” The last words came ground out through clenched teeth and Shay felt the hairs on her arms rise at the vehemence in his voice.
“What that means is that all we have is today. This moment. Right here.” Jonas jabbed a finger toward the floor. “We can either live it or we lay down and die. That’s the choice. This here—Jacob’s Well—it’s a place you can live like a man and not an animal. So you’ll get one more chance if you choose to stay.”
Anderson’s eyes had grown wary and thoughtful as Jonas spoke but he slowly gave a nod.
Jonas walked over to where Charlie stood by Shay. Charlie started to say something, but before he could, Jonas reached behind him and yanked a knife from the back of his belt.
“Hey,” Charlie said but Jonas ignored him, walking back toward Anderson, knife raised.
“Whoa, preacher man.” Anderson held up his hands and started backing toward the front door. “I thought we was coming to an understanding. I—”
“Hold him,” Jonas said, voice suddenly cold. All the compassion from moments ago was gone. What the hell? Shay started to step forward but Charlie put his arm out to block her path, his face tense.
Shay’s head swung back and forth between Charlie and Jonas. God, was Jonas actually a sociopath after all? Was this all just some terrible sort of cat and mouse game?
Shay’s stomach dropped out. She’d seen that sort of thing before. Too many times to count, in fact. She stumbled backwards a step. Jason had liked to play with his prey.
Charlie reached out to steady her but she jerked away from him.
Anderson started yelling as the big man, Danny, and the other one, grabbed both of his arms and held him in place as Jonas approached.
Shay wanted to squeeze her eyes shut, but no, she’d learned over the years it was far better to look the devil in the eye and know what you were dealing with. Your nightmares might be worse, but at least you were prepared when the monsters in human form came for you.
But then, something extraordinary happened.
Because when Jonas got to Anderson, all he did was use the knife to cut down the center of the man’s shirt and then—
Wha—
Shay squinted to get a better look. Was that some sort of little pocket sewn on the inside of his shirt?
With one swift slash, Jonas sliced through the edge of the little makeshift pocket. Then he reached in and slid out a small yellow ration card.
Shay’s mouth dropped open as Jonas stepped back from Anderson and the two men on either side of him let him go.
Anderson immediately dropped into a fighting stance, twisting back and forth to look at the three men who had him surrounded.
But Jonas held the knife loosely now, pointed toward the floor. “Mourn your son. Do your work. Keep your head down. That’s all we ask. And I’ll give you the choice one last time—stay or go? But know that if you choose to stay, you’re agreeing to abide by our laws. This will be your last warning.”
Jonas’s face was hard again. “The world’s short on mercy these days. Don’t abuse ours. If you’re caught stealing again, you’ll be taken straight to Security Squadron Headquarters and your hand will be cut off. Do you understand?”
The man was visibly shaking, but he nodded.
“I said, do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And what is your decision? Stay or go?”
A moment of silence. And then, “I’ll stay.”
Jonas gave another decisive nod. “So be it. And you.” Jonas pointed at the other man, the one who’s ration card had been stolen. “Captain Hale will toss you out on your ass if he catches you fighting again. Was getting thrown out of the Security Squadron not enough for you?”
“But it wasn’t my fault this time,” the man protested. “He—”
“A man steals your ration card, you report it to your superior,” Jonas cut him off. “Especially considering that you already have two strikes.”
“But I—”
“The right answer here is yes, sir,” Jonas cut him off with a glare.
The man looked at the ground sulkily. “Yes, sir.”
“Now get out of here, both of you.”
Obediently, they both turned and left out the front door.
The big blond man, Danny, breathed out and clapped Jonas on the back. “Thanks, Preacher. Don’t know what we’d do without you.”
Jonas’s glare didn’t soften. “Stop bringing me this shit. I’m not in this business anymore.”
Danny just shrugged. “You’re the best at it, though.”
Jonas turned away from him. And in the time it took for Danny to follow the other men out the door and close it behind him, Jonas’s posture went from hulking intimidation back to slouching stoner again.
If Shay hadn’t seen it with her own eyes, she wouldn’t have believed it. She had seen it, and she still could hardly believe it.
“Well,” Henry said with a clap of his hands, “that was eventful. Now, onto the rest of the day. Do you want a tour of the town, Shay? Or are you interested in anything in particular?”
It took Shay a moment to wrap her head around what Henry was saying. Her eyes were still on Jonas, who’d gone back to leaning against the wall like when he’d first come in the house. He’d crossed his arms and closed his eyes, head leaned back against the wall as if he was taking a nap standing up.
“Some women like to take up an occupation of some kind until children come,” Henry continued. “I know Julia has been needing some help over at the school if you are interested. The children are—”
“No,” Shay cut him off sharply, her attention suddenly snapping back to Henry.
Small faces flashed in her mind. Tiny hands fisting around her fingers.
Mommy, look what Nicky and I found! It’s a frog. Look Mommy. A frog! Can we keep it?
“Not the school.” She swallowed and stood up, turning as she grabbed her empty plate from the table. She wasn’t sure she could control her facial features at the moment.
She would share her body with these men. But her secrets were her own.
“Well, there is the library,” Henry continued, oblivious to her inner turmoil. “And Sophia works at the food pantry.”
“Here, let me get that,” Charlie said when Shay reached for his plate. He pulled the one she was holding out of her hands and then proceeded to go around the table picking up everyone’s dishes. Which was gentlemanly and all, but now she didn’t have anything to do with her hands. She toyed with the bottom hem of her overlarge sleep shirt and tried to focus on what Henry was saying.
Sophia. Food Pantry.
Shay thought of the dark, almost betrayed look Sophia had shot her way as she left this morning and wilted. Shay liked Sophia, but she did not have the energy for girl drama today.
“Any other options?” she asked Henry.
“Well, there’s candle and soap-making. And the clinic.”
The hospital was a possibility. Though in all honesty, she’d seen enough dead and dying bodies for a lifetime, thank you very much. She’d been pre-med for a while in college but mostly just so she could keep her scholarship. She’d filled every elective she could with art classes instead.
“What, do you have something else in mind?” Charlie asked.
Shay looked up at him and bit her lip
. Then she nodded. “I do, actually. Is there somewhere you put all your trash?”
She was met with confused faces on all sides.
“Like plastics and the non-organic stuff you can’t compost?”
“Um, are you thinking of starting a recycling program?” Henry asked. “Because I am not sure we have the equipment to—”
“No, no,” Shay waved a hand. “Nothing like that. I want to make art out of it. You know, like found object art. Ever heard of it?” She looked from one blank face to another. “It was a thing before The Fall. Like, a big thing.”
Charlie was nodding as if he was totally with her even though she could still see the skepticism he couldn’t quite hide.
“It’ll keep me busy while, you know—” Just force the words out. Say it. Just say it. “—we wait for you guys to knock me up.” The last half of the sentence came out in a rush, but she managed it. She tried for a smile but she was pretty sure it came out a grimace.
“So anyway, got any place like that I could collect supplies?” She looked at the table and let her long hair fall in her face. Gotta love built in camouflage.
“Looks like you’re comin’ to work with me then, babe,” Rafe said. When she looked his way, he shot her another wink. “What you’re looking for is the Scrapper Yard. We got everything from old electronics to cars to refrigerators to old toys. Everything anyone looking for old junk could want.”
Shay perked up. “Sounds perfect. Can we go there?”
“You bet, babe. I’d be happy to give you your own personal guided tour.”
Henry’s nose was wrinkled. “Are you sure you would not like to go see the hydro-electricity project our chief engineer has set up by the river? Or I can show you the extensive inventory of luxury items I have accrued for trade the next time I visit the President’s Palace—”
“What’s the matter?” Charlie asked. “Is Cinderella afraid his pretty, pretty shoes will get a little dirt on them?”
Shay thought she ought to tell Charlie not to pick but she couldn’t help an inadvertent glance down at Henry’s shoes. They were a very shiny, perfectly buffed leather that looked new, right out of the box.
“It is called having pride in one’s appearance,” Henry said, lifting a haughty eyebrow. “Acting civilized is the first step toward attaining civilization.”
