| |
“As the final vestiges of government failed, we found ourselves on our own, again. This time there was no fallback position. If we did not manage self sufficiency, we would die.”
History of a Changed World, Angus T. Moss
––––––––
“YOU SHOT HIM!” ANGUS sounded outraged.
“What did you expect me to do?” Tilly barked back.
Angus pulled her into a tight hug. She realized he was shaking. She hugged him, her knees going a little weak.
“I expected you to survive, my love,” Angus murmured.
She realized that he hadn’t been angry. She took one more moment to hold on to the man she loved. Should she tell him this wasn’t the first man she’d killed? But then, he wouldn’t be surprised. They had both been through harsh times before meeting up. She took a moment of comfort in his concern, then she returned to Mistress of the Keep. “Where’s Martin?” she asked as she pulled free of Angus’s embrace.
“Infirmary with the injured one.”
She took a quick inventory of people in the kitchen. “There were two with knives—“
“But only one still alive,” Angus said.
“I didn’t think Joshua...” She didn’t want to say killed. Was there a better word for taking the life of an enemy? He didn’t deserve to be spoken of as if she regretted his death.
“He didn’t.” Angus nodded toward where Eunice sat sipping a cup of tea and answering Tall Joe’s questions.
“Eunice killed a man?”
Angus pointed to the big cutting board lying on the floor. “Swung that chunk of wood hard enough to crush his windpipe. Sheer luck I think. The trajectory, strength, timing.” He shook his head. “Amazing what a person can do when they are scared enough.”
Tilly swallowed hard. “When you keep your head,” she added. Her emotions were all topsy-turvy. The Watch flooded into the kitchen after she’d gunned down that man. Tall Joe gingerly took the weapon out of her hand, for safety sake, he’d said. The bodies were removed. Joshua whisked Mary away. They’d carted Jack out on a stretcher. Through the adrenaline rush and let down, she hadn’t allowed herself to dwell on the repercussions.
“Come sit,” Angus tugged on her elbow.
She realized he was there without his walker. She took his arm, letting him lead her to a seat next to Eunice. Someone brought her a cup of tea. She sat up straight but took a long drink. It was sweet. Someone had used their sparse store of sugar for her. She was annoyed and touched beyond words at the same time. Tears threatened again. She cleared her throat vigorously. “Who was he?”
“One of the Creamery refugees,” Tall Joe told her.
“And his accomplices?”
“One came in last week, one with him. Martin will get the story.”
“Jack?” Her voice sounded sharp to her ears, but it was the only way to keep her emotions in check.
Tall Joe glanced past her. Tilly followed his gaze to see Martin in the cafeteria. She took another long drink of tea while waiting for him to join them.
“What’s the word?” Angus asked as Martin joined them at the table.
“Jack has a flesh wound but decided that playing dead was his best bet. They shot Toby out there,” he said gesturing to the cafeteria. He patted his collarbone. “Chest wound, but Ruth thinks he’ll be okay.” He gave Tilly an assessing look. “Man you shot is dead.”
“Mine too,” Eunice announced. “I got the bastard.” Her voice was ragged with contempt. “I can’t stand it. I won’t! I absolutely will not let them win.”
Martin leaned over to squeeze her hand. “Well done, Eunice.”
She sucked in a shaky breath. “Thank you.” She wrapped her trembling hands around a mug.
Tilly patted her shoulder. “That’s the spirit.” She caught Martin’s eye. “I know how to handle a gun, and I always shoot to kill.”
The look of respect that Martin gave her sent a trickle of pride through her still shaky innards. He knew what she was capable of, now.
“Were you able to get anything from the surviving attacker?”
“Joshua gave him a cracked cheekbone and a concussion. The guy is gutless. Said he did whatever the boss wanted. Gave me the names of three other guys that were in their crew but refused to join in tonight’s little fracas. The Watch is gathering them up.”
“Thank you,” Angus said with a distracted nod. “I guess this is the price we have to pay for accepting all and sundry into our home.”
“We should quarantine them,” Tilly said. She stared at the table top as her brain started clicking over the tasks involved. Where could they put them? How would they feed them? Resources and staffing shuffled back and forth in her mind. When she looked up, all eyes were on her. “The storm shelter.”
“That might work...” Martin started.
“It has cots, showers and a kitchen. It also has a freight elevator.” She waved toward the back hallway. “There’s four separate chambers, right? We can put men in one, women in another, and children in a third.”
“And the fourth?” Angus asked.
“Troublemakers,” Martin said.
Tilly was leaning more toward families or elderly, but left it to Martin. “Yes, I suppose that would work.”
“It seems rather grim a place to keep them,” Angus said with a tentative plea in his voice.
“I wouldn’t have minded,” Eunice interjected. “You people were so kind to me that I kept waiting for the trap to spring. If you put me in a cell for a week, I wouldn’t have minded.” Her mouth twisted as she fought for composure. “You’re too good. Too trusting.”
“It’s late,” Tilly said brusquely. “Tomorrow we will inspect the storm shelter and get started on sorting out the refugees.”