| |
KATE
I sit in a living room on the third floor, a hammer in one hand and a screwdriver in the other. In front of me are two desks. I need to figure out a way to take them apart and reassemble them into a growing bed for Lila and Eric’s hydroponics nursery.
“I could really use a saw,” I mutter, staring down at the desks. I already tried using the screwdriver to separate the back from the shelves. All I managed to do was bend the screwdriver.
A scream, followed by a shout and a gunshot, brings my head whipping up.
I mentally trace the sound. It doesn’t take a genius to deduce it came from downstairs. I’m on top of our living room.
I fly down to the second floor. Every instinct screams at me to rip open the stairwell door and rush to our apartment.
I don’t. Instead, I press my ear against the door, listening. One voice carries, loud and commanding, but I can’t make out the words.
I crack the door. The hallway is empty; the door to our apartment stands wide open.
I inch my way down the hall, hefting the knife I always carry.
“Now, assholes,” booms a voice. “Fill our boxes or we take this pretty little honey right now in front of all of you.”
“No!” Lila’s voice is shrill with panic. “Let me go!”
A chill seeps through my body. This is not good.
I think of the guns stashed under the sofa. If we survive the next few minutes, I make a silent vow to wear one at all times.
I scuttle down the hallway and peek around the open doorway. I expect to see Mr. Rosario’s homeless vagabonds. Instead, I see four soldiers and three college boys, all of them with guns raised. Not a single one looks older than twenty-one or twenty-two. The college boys look even younger.
Carter, Jenna, Johnny, Reed, and Eric are in the kitchen, yanking open cupboards and pulling out precious food. They load the food into several large plastic totes on the kitchen table. Lila is pinned to the floor by one of the soldiers, a gun to the back of her neck.
“That’s right,” says the boy pinning Lila. “Load ‘em up. Make sure you throw in those bottles of booze. We don’t care if they’re mostly empty. Do we, boys?”
Chuckles bubble up from the rest of the armed boys. Several of them let their eyes wander freely over Jenna as she stands on her toes to pull food off a top shelf.
“Hey, Ryan,” Jenna says, “is this how you repay us for giving you a keg of beer?”
Ryan. I remember that name. This is one of the College Creek boys they met at the Depot.
One of the college kids—presumably Ryan—leers at Jenna. “You’re lucky we were feeling neighborly that night,” he replies. “We could have taken both kegs and then some.” What he means by and then some is clear by the way he looks Jenna up and down. It makes me want to scratch the kid’s eyeballs out.
“You lied to us,” Ryan continues. “You said you lived in Pepperwood. Imagine our surprise when we went there for a visit. All we found is a bunch of undead fuckers.”
“You weren’t easy to find,” says the boy pinning Lila to the ground. “It wasn’t until one of you idiots thought it was a good idea to smoke pot on the roof that we found you.” His grin is feral. “Thank God for idiots.”
I am going to kill Eric. Or Reed. Maybe both of them for good measure. Which dumb fuck thought it was a good idea to get high on the roof?
It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what’s going on. We’re being robbed at gunpoint. And if we don’t give these guys what they want, they’ll take Lila instead.
Could these be the people who raped those girls and murdered the College Creek kids? The old soldier had told us to be on the lookout for other soldiers. He hadn’t said anything about a combined group of students and soldiers.
“Maybe I’ll take your friend here, just so you don’t forget who’s in charge,” continues the young soldier. He pulls Lila up by the hips and grinds himself against her. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
Lila whimpers. I want to be sick.
“Let her go.” Eric balls his fists and glares at the soldier boy with Lila. “We’re getting you your supplies. You don’t have to hurt her.”
“Who’s in charge here, motherfucker?” the soldier demands.
“I only meant—”
Ryan strides forward, shoving the barrel of his gun in Eric’s nose. “You’re not being useful. We have no need of people who aren’t useful.”
I sense the situation careening out of control. Taking a deep breath, I stride into the room and assume my best mom voice.
“I think everyone can put their guns down. Right fucking now,” I say. Terror pounds through me, but I march right into the midst of the commotion and plant myself in the middle of the room.
Hands on my hips, I glare down at the kid pinning Lila. His baby face is covered with acne. His nametag reads Johnson.
“We’ll fill your boxes.” I gesture to the large crates sitting on the kitchen table. Carter, Jenna, Reed, Eric, and Johnny scurry to fill them. “You’re scaring my friend. Please let her up. There’s no need to terrorize her. None of us is going to fight you.”
“Damn right you’re not going to fight us.” The boy sneers at me. “Brandy is our favorite. It’ll earn you extra points if you remember that.”
“Will you please let my friend up? You can see we’re complying.”
The boy’s eyes narrow. For a moment, I fear he’s going to hurt Lila just to prove a point.
“Sir, it would be a gesture of goodwill to let up the girl.” Another soldier steps forward. The badge on his uniform reads Roberts. His handsome dark face reveals nothing as he faces off with Johnson. “They are complying with our demands.”
“Whose side are you on?” Ryan asks.
Roberts tilts his head at Ryan. “Our side. We want tithers, remember? These guys won’t be tithers if we hurt them.”
Tithers. I have a sinking feeling I know what that means.
“Whatever,” Johnson says. “This bitch is annoying me anyway. She’ll change her tune once she gets to know me.” He leans forward, raking his tongue along the back of her neck. When Lila chokes on a sob, he laughs. Only then does he rise and remove the gun from the back of her head.
As soon as she’s freed, Lila scrambles to a far corner and huddles in a tight ball. Johnson watches her, a leer on his face. Ryan looks disgusted. Roberts’ eyes flick to mine for a split second. I sense he’s trying to tell me something, but I don’t know what.
I hold out my hand, speaking loudly to draw Johnson’s attention away from Lila. “My name is Kate. And you are?”
The kid hesitates, then extends his hand. “Private First Class Johnson.” He shakes my hand.
I consider trying to negotiate some of our food back, then decide against it. The most important thing is to get this group out of here. We can figure out the food situation later. At least they haven’t found our real stash in the room across the hall.
“That’s it,” Johnny says. “They’re full.”
“Take the stuff and go,” I say.
Johnson narrows his eyes. “I say when we go.” He struts over to the plastic totes, riffling through the contents. “Nice,” he says at length. “I can see you were being generous. Keep that up and we won’t have a problem.”
Johnson signals to the other soldiers and college kids, confirming to me that he’s the ringleader. Even Ryan complies with his instructions. Everyone holsters their weapons. They grab the crates, retreating to the door with their stolen larder. The bottles of alcohol clink inside.
“Just so you know, the university is ours,” Johnson says. “Anyone living here must pay a tithe. We’ll be coming around once a week to have our crates filled. If you can’t pay, we’ll take our tithe another way.” He throws a dirty leer at Lila. She shrinks back in on herself.
“Fine,” I say, moving to block Johnson’s view of Lila. “We’ll have your tithe.”
Carter shifts behind me. I sense his rising argument. I give him my most severe mom look. The one reserved for lies, missed curfews, and bad grades. And, apparently, for telling my son to back down when there are men holding us at gunpoint.
Carter snaps his mouth closed and keeps quiet.
“We’ll be back in a week,” Johnson drawls. “Make sure you have enough supplies to fill our crates.” The last look he casts at Lila is a warning. “Come on, brothers. We’re done here for the night.”
Johnson and his lackeys file out. Roberts flashes me an apologetic grimace before he slips out last. He, at least, doesn’t agree with what Johnson is doing.
As soon as the last soldier is out, I slam the door and lock it. I spin around, looking at my ashen-faced kids. Lila bursts into tears, crying quietly into her knees as she huddles against the wall. Jenna hurries to her side and slips an arm around her shoulders. Eric joins her, flanking Lila on the other side.
“How did they get through our front door?” I ask.
“They were lying in wait,” Jenna says. “Carter and I went outside to get water, and they pounced on us. Held us at gunpoint and forced us back inside.”
I close my eyes, struggling to tamp down my rage.
“What are we going to do?” Eric asks. “We can’t just hand over a shitload of stuff every week.”
Even though I agree with Eric, I don’t reply. I don’t know what to say that won’t make the situation worse.
“Do you by any chance have a tip for dealing with bad guys in that Thrive book you’re writing?” Carter asks.
Johnny shakes his head. “No. But I bet this is the group that College Creek gunman warned us about. I guess he didn’t take care of them like he said he was going to.
He’s probably dead, I think.
One thing is certain. This arrangement with Johnson can only go one direction. Down. He’ll demand more and more of us over time. Eventually, he’ll take everything. Possibly even kill us, or worse.
Being under Johnson’s thumb is bad. Very bad.