The little girl looked about three years old. She clung to her mom, wailing as the slavers tried to rip her away. Her mom screamed, but none of the slavers even batted an eye. They finally got them pulled apart and the Reapers shoved the woman into the back of the truck. The screaming didn’t stop though, and I desperately wanted to cover my ears.
Juck came striding back to his bike where I stood, a wide grin on his face and I knew he’d managed to barter a higher price.
“C’mon, Angel,” he said cheerfully, swinging onto his bike. “Time to go.”
I climbed on behind him and pressed one ear against his back, trying to muffle the screams a little. It didn’t work. Even the overwhelming roar of all the bikes didn’t drown her out, and the woman continued to wail. Normally they quieted after a while. This one didn’t. Panic started building in my chest.
Just stop, I longed to plead. Stop before they hurt you. Please!
After a couple hours, Juck had enough. He raised an arm, signaling to the truck and my heart dropped.
“She’s probably gonna stop soon.” I couldn’t help blurting out.
The whole procession came to a stop and Juck swung off the bike. He paused for a moment, staring at me.
“You questioning me, Angel?” he asked.
I swallowed hard and shook my head.
“Good. Then you can come watch.” His eyes glittered.
I swung off the bike, feeling sick. Grip opened the back of the truck and the woman began screaming even louder as they hauled her out. Juck forced her mouth open and as he began to cut out her tongue with ruthless efficiency, he met my eyes and smiled. Blood gushed from her mouth and her cries became garbled noises and I twisted, retching into the sand—
I jerked upright. It took me a moment to orient myself and to register that Sam stood downstairs shouting my name.
“Bones!”
“I’m fine,” I choked out.
“Put the ladder down right now.” He sounded pissed.
I glanced at the ladder lying on the floor. A sudden anxiety filled me. "Why?"
“Now, Bones!”
“I’m sorry if I was loud—”
"I swear to the gods if you don't put the ladder down right now—"
I threw off the blanket, wiping at my wet face, and slid the ladder back down. As soon as it hit the floor, I scrambled back to my mattress, pressing against the wall. Sam shot up the ladder, scanning the loft with narrowed eyes as he strode toward me, and I tried to brace myself.
“I’m sorry. It was just a nightmare,” I said as fast as I could manage. “I’ll be quieter—”
“Wait, what?” He stopped, his brow furrowing as he stared down at me.
“I’m sorry,” I repeated, my voice wobbling.
Sam crouched where he stood so he could look me in the eye. “I’m not mad. I thought someone was up here hurting you.”
I stared at him, embarrassment mixing with the anxiety and the lingering horror from my dream. “Oh.”
“Gods, did you think I was mad ’cause you were too loud?”
I dropped my eyes, my face burning.
“You were screamin’ at someone to stop.” His voice had an edge to it.
My dream surged back to my mind, the memories of what followed trying to play out in my head. If only cutting out her tongue had been the worst thing Juck did to her. I covered my mouth with a shaking hand, willing myself not to be sick.
“Breathe in through your nose,” he instructed. “Slowly.”
I did, and bit by bit my stomach settled. In the dim light of the moon coming in the window, I couldn't see his expression, but he stayed put and didn't try to touch me.
“Just for the record, none of us are ever gonna be mad ’cause you woke up screaming, but we are gonna need to make sure you’re alright.”
“I said I was fine,” I muttered.
"Yeah, you say that a lot," he retorted, and I saw the flash of his teeth as he grinned. "So far you haven't been fine even once."
We sat in silence for a while, and I tried to wrestle myself back under control so he would go away.
“You have nightmares a lot?”
I had them almost every night, but I shrugged.
"I dunno if anybody's told you, but Mac handpicked this crew. To join, we each had to swear to live by a certain code, knowin' that breaking the code meant exile or execution. Part of that code is not causing harm. Nobody in this crew is gonna hurt you."
I didn’t know if that made me feel any better.
“Madame is a fucking bitch,” he said, “but she lets the crew leaders govern their own people. That’s how Mac carved out a place for us—a safe place. And you’re in it, ok?”
I thought about Clarity and her bruises, Hojo’s skeletal body, and the man who’d died screaming just a few hours ago. I wanted to ask Sam what about them, but I had no high ground to stand on. I’d stayed with Juck for twelve years while he hurt and killed people. Besides, I wasn’t staying here, so I shouldn’t even care.
“I’ll let you get back to sleep,” Sam said. “But can you leave the ladder down? I promise, no one is gonna get in here.”
I gave a short nod and that seemed to satisfy him. He stood and headed to the ladder.
“Night, Shortcake,” he called over his shoulder.
In the silent darkness, I laid back down and stared anxiously at the ladder until exhaustion pulled me under again.
I spent the next several days in fear of the door opening, dreading Mac returning to summon me back to the watchtower, but the days continued to go by with no sign of him. More people started coming into the clinic, keeping me busy in a good way. Being able to freely heal people felt like a balm on my soul, but also left me confused. I hated Madame and everything that happened under the watchtower, but as I used my powers more a long-dormant part of me seemed to awaken and stretch, and it felt good. I tried to tell myself that I was quickly growing attached to the clinic because I’d never had my own space before, but it didn’t change how I felt about the small wooden building.
Mac’s crew confused me even more. I didn’t know what to do with them, and they would not leave me alone or stop fucking talking. Trey, Griz, and Sam were almost always in the clinic getting in my way. They joked and teased and asked stupid questions and didn’t seem to care when I refused to participate or snapped at them to get the fuck out and go bother someone else. They didn’t act like guarding the clinic and keeping an eye on me was a job. Sometimes I had to remind myself Madame ordered them to be here. They were guards, not friends, no matter how friendly they acted.
Jax didn't come to the clinic often, and when he did he seemed to be delivering things. He stayed quiet around me, but I often heard him chattering at the others outside. Sam called him "the kid," "Trey Jr.," and "blondie." He didn't seem to mind the nicknames, except for "the kid." I often heard him shouting "I am fifteen! I'm not a kid!"
Sometimes I caught a glimpse of his sandy blond hair and my heart would leap before I remembered where I was.
I spotted Lana a few times from a distance, but I could still feel the scorching heat of her glare. Raven still hadn’t said a word to me, but the woman could speak volumes with a single twitch of her eyebrow. She’d made it clear she disliked me, but I expected that. Neither of them had taken a guard shift yet, and I couldn’t help wondering how they were given out. Did Mac assign shifts or did they volunteer? I glanced outside from where I was bandaging a man’s leg in the clinic. I’d taken to leaving the door open due to the heat. As much as I was curious about how Mac distributed shifts, I wasn’t about to encourage the two idiots currently challenging each other to see who could balance a stick on one finger the longest by asking.
“Cheater!” Trey yelled, the stick wobbling on his finger, but he laughed as he dodged the pinecones Sam tossed at him.
"What? I'm just tryin' to clean up Bones's yard." Sam caught me watching them and winked.
I flushed and looked back down at my work. This could not be more different from being with the Reapers. They hated me at first. They thought Juck had lost his damn mind making a ten-year-old kid the gang healer. On good days they just ignored me, but most of the time they were cruel. Once I got older, they got more friendly, but not in a nice way. Then Juck made it crystal clear no one, no one, was allowed to touch me and they went back to keeping their distance. Only two had been something like friends, and they both paid the price for it.
My heart clenched at the memory as I glanced back outside. Sam and Trey had abandoned the stick and circled each other, fists raised, but they were both grinning as they taunted each other. When they started throwing punches, my fingers stalled wrapping the bandage. They moved lightly on their feet, throwing jabs and spinning and ducking and laughing the whole time. It wasn’t long before Trey had Sam in a headlock, a move I recognized from being trapped in it on the roof, and Sam tapped out. They broke apart grinning and wiping sweat from their faces.
The blacksmith I’d been bandaging cleared his throat, and I just about jumped out of my skin. My face flamed. I’d forgotten about him. He eyed me with a slight smile, clearly knowing why I’d gotten distracted.
“Sorry,” I mumbled, tying off the bandage.
“S’alright,” he said. “Mac’s crew is one of the best Safeguards we’ve got.”
“Safeguard?” I asked before I could rein in my damn curiosity and shut my mouth.
“Crews that go outside the hold and do reconnaissance or make trades,” he explained. “We’re pretty self-sustaining here, but we have to go on supply runs or make trades every so often. It’s always dangerous when you’re dealing with valuable resources. Sometimes they gotta fight off raiders.”
I needed to know this information for my escape. That’s why I asked. Not because I wanted to know anything about them. “How many Safeguard crews are there?”
“We’re down to two now. Mac’s crew and Hawk’s crew. We had a third, but they went on a mission, and well, none of ’em came back.”
The Reapers had often clashed with small crews. Usually over resources, but sometimes all it took was a stupid argument. Sometimes they attacked small crews just for fun or to blow off steam. The spaces between holds and garrisons were no man's land, ripe for anyone to control if they had the gun power and the stomach for it. Juck had both. The Reapers had ruled the desert for the past decade, partly thanks to me. Juck and his immortality were infamous. He could receive a fatal injury and come back in just hours for revenge. My stomach churned.
“Now that you’re here, we won’t have to make so many to get medicine or medical supplies,” the man continued. “That’s always been our biggest need. Once the snow falls, it’s pretty impossible to get in and out of here so we gotta stock up for winter.”
I tucked that bit of info away too. If I wanted to get out of here, I'd have to do it before winter or wait until the snow melted. I rattled off some instructions for how to keep his wound clean and he thanked me with a grin before heading out to chat with my guards. Trey and Sam had both stripped off their shirts and my eyes lingered on them. I'd seen countless bodies working as a healer, and you'd think I'd be immune to getting distracted by them. But I couldn't help admiring their wiry muscled bodies gleaming with sweat in the sunshine. They were both handsome, but my eyes kept straying to Trey. From this distance, I couldn't see the scar on Trey's stomach, but I knew it existed. I wondered if I ran my hands across his tanned skin, would I feel it beneath my fingertips?
I gave myself a firm mental shake and forced myself to get back to work.
Almost two weeks passed before Trey came in one morning and told me we were taking a tour of the Vault. I frowned at him, trying to hide my anxiety. Trey hadn't given me any reasons to be afraid of him, but that sort of command made alarm bells start blaring in my head.
“I’m busy,” I said.
“C’mon,” he replied, “you need to know where everything is.”
“I don’t care.”
“I got a couple horses all ready,” he continued like I wasn’t digging my heels in.
“I’m not going.”
He sighed, his eyes pained. “Bones, please. Mac asked me to do this, and I really don’t want to force you.”
But I will if I have to. I heard the unspoken subtext. I glared at him for a few more seconds, debating making this into a big fight out of sheer stubbornness.
Choose your battles, Wolf barked in my head.
“Fine,” I said through my teeth.
He let out a breath, his eyes brightening again. “Alright, let’s go.”
I followed him outside where two horses waited already saddled up. I paused nervously. I knew I’d ridden a horse with Trey when I first got here, but I’d been unconscious for most of it. I didn’t have any experience with horses. Not many people had them in the desert. Finding enough food for them proved difficult and most people owned bikes. Scavenging parts for bikes didn’t take much work, and thanks to the boiling sun, the solar panels that powered the engines stayed charged.
Trey noticed I’d stopped. “You comin’?”
I didn’t move, hating to admit I didn’t know what to do.
He turned and strode back over to me, his brow furrowed. “What’s wrong?”
I swallowed my pride. “I don’t know how to ride a horse.”
Understanding dawned in his eyes and he smiled that gentle smile. "Oh! Well, I'll teach you. C'mere."
I followed him over, feeling more nervous as we got closer and I realized exactly how big the horses were.
“This one is Violet and this one is Marigold.” He gestured to the two horses.
Violet was dark brown, and Marigold was a golden palomino. Marigold lowered her head and nudged Trey in a move that seemed affectionate.
“You’re riding Violet. She’s very gentle.”
Violet swung her head toward me, and I stopped in my tracks.
“You’re ok,” Trey said. “She just wants to say hello. Here, hold your hand out, like this.” He demonstrated reaching forward with one hand, offering the back of his palm to the horse who sniffed it.
He turned back toward me, reaching out to take my hand and tug me forward. I let him, but my heart pounded in my chest. I held my free hand out like he did, and the horse’s whiskers tickled my skin as she sniffed me. I stared at those massive hooves and couldn’t help picturing how they could crush a human foot or a skull. Once Violet stopped sniffing, Trey pulled me forward again, going alongside the horse to stop at her side.
“Hey Vi,” Trey said in a calm, even voice as he stroked the horse’s shoulder. He raised my hand he held and set it on the horse’s warm side. “You try.”
I stroked my hand down the horse’s side. Her coat felt warm and soft under my fingers. Violet swung her head back again, staring at me and huffing at my shirt.
"Don't approach a horse from behind. I mean, Vi will be fine ’cause she's gentle, but some horses will feel threatened," Trey continued with a wry smile. "Trust me, it's a real good way to get kicked. Now that you've greeted the horse, you can mount up. This is called the horn." He reached up and grabbed the part of the saddle sticking up. "You hold onto this, put your foot here in the stirrup, and then push up and swing your other leg over." He demonstrated, moving with a practiced ease, and then smiled at me from on top of the horse. "To get off, you do the same thing, just in reverse." He swung one leg over, holding onto the horn and lowering himself down to the ground.
Violet ignored us and snagged a mouthful of grass.
“Your turn.”
I had to stand on my tiptoes to reach the horn, but I managed. I got my boot in the stirrup, a little awkwardly, and then pulled myself up the way Trey had done. I wasn’t as fluid as Trey, but I did it, a flutter of accomplishment coming to life in my chest.
“Nice.” Trey grinned up at me. “Here I’ll adjust the stirrups a little. Your legs are a bit shorter than mine.”
I moved my feet so he could adjust the straps until I could reach both more easily. He slipped them back on my feet and then stood, surveying me.
“How do you feel?” he asked.
I wasn’t sure exactly what he meant. “Fine?”
He chuckled. “Shoulda seen that one comin’.” He grabbed the reins and handed them to me. “Hold these with one hand. Keep ’em loose. You don’t need to worry too much about steering ’cause Violet will follow me, but all you do is move your hand with the reins in the direction you want her to go.”
He moved over to Marigold and mounted, taking the reins and checking on me one more time. “When you want the horse to go, you just squeeze gently with your legs or tap with your heels. Don’t kick ’em unless you want ’em to take off. To stop, you just pull back on the reins like this.” He showed me. “Alright, ready?”
I wasn’t sure, but I nodded anyway. He grinned and Marigold started out, Violet following along behind. Fluffy clouds filled the sky and the breeze was pleasantly chilly, carrying the sharp scent of pine trees with it. Birds sang in the trees and chickens clucked on the ground. Drops of dew coated the grass and made the ground sparkle in the sunlight. We took a left toward the main gate, and hope fluttered in my stomach for a moment. Were we going outside the hold?
“This is the main gate,” Trey said, stopping in front of it. “There’s only two. This one and a smaller one on the other side of the Vault.”
A dozen armed guards watched us. Trey waved, greeted a few by name, and quickly got pulled into a conversation. My hope of going outside the wall died. I stayed quiet, eying the massive gate made from a giant sheet of dull grey metal like the walls. One person wouldn't be able to open that thing. There had to be some sort of pulley system or something. I wanted to look closer, but a few of the guards noted me studying the gate so I quickly glanced away toward the middle of the hold where the horrible watchtower loomed.
The watchtower was an enormous structure, looming over the entire hold from a small hill. It was made of concrete, and while weathered, it showed no signs of disrepair like some of the other buildings. I wondered what this place had been. The watchtower, the wall, and some of the other bigger buildings had clearly been built in the Before.
“What’s a pretty girl like you doin’ in a place like this?”
I startled and Violet startled with me, sidestepping. One of the guards had approached.
“Whoa, sorry.” The man raised his hands in a gesture of surrender, chuckling.
He looked to be in his thirties, and while his expression was pleasant enough, his energy made me nervous. Something about his thin face reminded me of a weasel.
“Bones, right?” he finally asked when I didn’t say anything. “I’m Lem.”
I gave him a short nod, hoping that would satisfy him. He grinned, stepping forward and grabbing Violet’s reins in a move that made me tense.
"How are you doin' this morning?" He rested his free hand on my knee.
I wanted him away from me, but I forced myself to unclench my jaw and speak as civilly as I could manage. “Fine.”
“You ever want a fun night, you should join us at Hydro.”
“No.”
“I haven’t even told you what it is yet!” he still spoke lightly, but his eyes darkened.
I pulled the reins to the side, hoping he would release Violet, but he didn’t.
“I’m not interested,” I said a little louder.
“I bet we could change your mind if—”
He cut off as Trey rode Marigold almost directly into him, forcing him to let go of Violet and jump backward, cursing.
“Oh sorry, Lem,” Trey called out, but his expression was dark. “Didn’t see you there.”
Lem glared at him, straightening his jacket. “Watch where you’re fuckin’ goin’, Trey.”
“You meet Bones? You hear she officially belongs to Mac’s crew?” Trey leaned forward on the saddle horn, and I couldn’t see his face, but something like fear flashed through Lem’s eyes as he glanced between me and Trey. “She’s one of ours now, and we’re keepin’ a real close eye on her.”
That sounded like a threat, but as Lem glowered and took a step back, I guessed it wasn’t for me.
Trey reached out and tugged on Violet’s reins. “Have a good one, Lem.” He didn’t let go of Violet, keeping her close beside Marigold as we moved away.
I didn’t look back, but I could feel Lem’s eyes on me and it made my skin crawl. I rubbed my knee, trying to erase the sensation of Lem’s hand touching me.
“Sorry ’bout that.”
I glanced up at him to see that muscle ticking in his jaw as he scanned me.
“Lem’s a creep, but he shouldn’t bother you again.”
“Is everybody scared of Mac?” I asked before I could think better of it.
“Mac’s given people a good reason to fear him if they cross him,” Trey replied.
In the silence that followed, I mulled over what Trey had said to Lem, my temper growing the more I thought about it. I didn’t belong to Mac. I remembered Sam saying Madame let the crew leaders govern their own people. Maybe that’s what Sam meant when he said I was in Mac’s safe place. Well fuck that. I wasn’t a nice shiny trophy for them to display. I’d been that before, and I wasn’t doing it again.
“We take care of our own.”
“You’re in the crew now, so if anybody messes with you, they’ll deal with us.
I hated that tiny part of me that thought maybe they said that shit because they actually saw me as a person.
Don’t trust ’em, Wolf snarled.
“This is—” Trey started, gesturing at a large building, but I couldn’t keep my damn mouth shut.
“Mac doesn’t own me,” I snarled in a pretty good impression of Wolf.
Trey halted Marigold and looked at me with eyebrows raised. “What?”
“I’m not a fucking possession.”
“I know?” Trey’s brow furrowed. “Why—”
“What you said to that man,” I snapped, hating that my voice wobbled. “I don’t give a fuck what Mac thinks, but I don’t—”
“Bones,” Trey interrupted, looking exasperated, “that’s not what I meant.”
I pressed my lips together, glaring at him. He sighed and glanced around us as he shifted Marigold even closer to Violet so he could lower his voice.
“Look, the way things work here is…not ideal,” he said, his eyes never leaving mine, “but Mac doesn’t think you’re a possession. You’re a member of his crew, of my crew. An' we want people to know that ’cause it'll keep assholes like Lem from harassin' you."
I believed that’s what Trey believed. I wasn’t so sure about anyone else.
“We don’t want our precious treasure to get lost.” Madame’s cruel voice ran through my head.
Gods, I was so fucking tired of being a thing.
“Bones.”
I glanced up at Trey, trying to stuff down all the emotions clogging my throat. His eyes were serious, but he gave me a small crooked smile.
“I heard you tell Lem no. If somebody won’t take no for an answer, you got me as backup, alright?”
That made my eyes burn with a confusing swell of emotions, and I had to duck my head, letting my hair fall forward and shield my face. Trey cleared his throat before continuing.
“As I was sayin’, this is the garage where we keep the rovers and some other vehicles. We don’t use ’em around the hold. They’re still running on gasoline, so we gotta conserve it,” Trey explained. “We use horsepower inside the walls.”
Once I got myself under control I peered up at the big wooden building. Half of it seemed to be well-maintained and the other half falling apart. In one corner an entire fucking tree poked through the roof. It surprised me to hear they still used gasoline. Finding vehicles that ran on gas and still worked was rare. In the desert, everyone used solar power to avoid paying the outrageous cost of gasoline. The Reapers loved to raid for gasoline because the payout was huge.
Trey turned to go alongside the garage on a smaller dirt road. The horses' hooves kicked up a cloud of dust that coated the nearby evergreen trees and made my mouth taste like mud. As we went around the garage, another large building came into view. This one looked newer with walls of corrugated metal and a tin roof.
“That’s the barracks.” Trey gestured to several training fields where a group of people jogged. “This is where the guards train. The lower level guards sleep in the barracks, but the crews get their own smaller bunkhouse.” He motioned toward the cluster of smaller buildings between the barracks and the garage. These were small old wooden cabins. A couple had boarded up windows, but Trey stopped in front of number four which looked neatly maintained with old glass windows still intact. “This one’s ours. So if you ever need to find us, there’s usually at least one of our crew in there.”
As I glanced up at the cabin, Lana’s face flashed in the window before she dropped the curtain back down. I looked away, my heart pounding.
Trey turned Marigold around and pointed at a cluster of trees in the distance. “The clinic is just behind those trees, so we’re actually pretty close.”
I realized I could see the corner of the clinic roof between the trees. My closeness to their bunkhouse brought me a tiny bit of comfort, which immediately made me irritated at myself.
Don’t let your guard down, Wolf growled.
A handful of larger, nicer homes surrounded the watchtower. I assumed Madame lived in one of them, but I wondered who had the rest. Maybe the council members I’d been introduced to, Nemo and Zana? Madame’s sneer floated through my mind.
“How long has there been a council?” I asked as we moved down the dirt road.
Trey looked surprised and then delighted that I asked a question, and I immediately regretted it.
“Not too long.”
I didn’t miss the way his voice lowered carefully or the way he brought Marigold closer to me and Violet again.
“There was a rebellion about twenty years ago, and the unrest from it never died. About five years ago, Madame announced the council to try an’ make nice. She appointed Zana and the people elected Nemo.”
I wanted to ask more questions, but I pressed my lips together. If the council was a compromise, it seemed reasonable to assume they didn’t have a ton of power. I just needed to get a feel for the hierarchy here. I didn’t need all the details.
Trey waited for a moment, looking disappointed when I stayed silent, then urged Marigold to continue.
We moved South and Trey showed me the horse stables, the farm, the fields, and the small pens of livestock. Pigs and goats and several cows milled about in pens. Chickens roamed free everywhere. In the fields, people harvested the crops, a working tractor made hay bales, and fruit trees grew everywhere. There were mostly apple trees, but some pear, plum, and cherry trees as well. More people worked harvesting the fruit and packing it into crates.
It took us over an hour to reach the far south end of the hold. There we found the manufacturing district, a giant old warehouse housing a variety of ancient machinery as well as the butcher and the tannery. I knew before Trey pointed it out that we had to be near the slums. The wide dirt road changed to a narrow footpath choked with weeds. Trash and debris littered the ground. I understood why they were called rusters, as most of the ramshackle huts were made from rusted sheets of metal. A dirty child stood in front of one, coughing as she watched us pass.
I didn’t miss the way Trey’s expression darkened when we rode past the brothel.
I caught a glimpse of the second gate that led out of the Vault and my heart sank. It seemed to be permanently closed. I couldn't be sure from this distance, but it looked like it had been boarded shut.
“Last count we took, there were three hundred and seven people here,” Trey said as he urged Marigold on. “We don’t get many people coming from outside. Most of the people here have been here for generations.”
“What was this place?” I asked, glancing up at the watchtower again.
“Best we can guess it was built to be some kind of shelter for the end of the world. I don’t think they ever made it here though. It was just sitting here empty for gods know how long before the founding members stumbled on it. Whoever it was, they built the bigger buildings, some of the houses, the wall, and planted all the fruit trees.”
I glanced up at the apple tree we rode under. Small red apples weighed down the branches. Trey reached up and plucked one off the tree and then held it out to me with a grin. I took it from him and watched as he grabbed another, wiped the dust off with his sleeve, and then took a bite. I copied him and took a cautious bite. It tasted sweet and tangy.
Trey finished his apple, tossing the core to a group of chickens. I nibbled mine slowly, still nervous about being sick, but my stomach stayed calm. I’d been eating more solid food due to Sam’s pestering, and so far I hadn’t been sick. I never would’ve guessed from looking at him that Sam would be such a mother hen.
“Seems like your stomach is adjusting,” Trey said.
“Yeah.”
“That’s good.” He sure sounded genuine.
I didn’t know what to say, so I just bit into my apple again.
We passed a series of solar panels hooked up to a massive generator. The panels looked old, but well cared for, and Trey continued, “The builders also set up the solar power generator and all the plumbing. Originally there were workin’ toilets and everything, but the pipes were so eroded the founders decided to let them be and put in the outhouses. All the original buildings have water and electricity though, like the clinic. We keep the power turned off in most buildings during the day so we don’t drain the generator. Yours should be on all the time now, though. Me and Mac convinced Madame you would need good lighting to work.” He flashed me an easy grin.
We rode past a water spigot that a line of people stood at, waiting to fill up jugs and bottles. I’d seen a couple spigots scattered around. Most of the people waiting looked like they’d come from the slums, which made sense. I doubted they had any plumbing or electricity in those shacks.
I was surprised, however, to see Nemo walking toward the spigot carrying two large plastic jugs.
“Well howdy, Trey, Bones,” he said with a kind smile, and I tried not to stare at the awful scar on the side of his face. “What are you two up to?”
“Just givin’ Bones a tour of the Vault,” Trey said with an answering smile, then he looked at the jugs in Nemo’s hands. “Your water go out?”
“No.” Nemo set one of the jugs down to lift his hat and run a hand through his greying hair. “I’m just helpin’ some folks out who have trouble carryin’ these jugs.” He chuckled. “Old age comes for us all.”
Trey smiled back and asked him about the harvest, and I took the opportunity to study Nemo. I couldn’t guess his age from just looking at him. He could’ve been in his late forties or early sixties. The scar didn’t help. My eyes traced the puckered, rough flesh, wondering how it happened. It really did look like an animal took a bite out of the side of his face. He had weathered skin, but his dark blue eyes were clear and full of a similar warmth to Trey’s. He stood about as tall as Trey and lean and wiry. He met my eyes, and I flushed at being caught staring, but he just smiled.
“Well I better get a move on,” he said, lifting the empty jug again. “You two have a nice day, now.”
As we rode away, I realized I'd seen Nemo a few times now doing more manual labor than I'd expected a member of the council to be doing. I sure as hell had never seen Madame or Zana out working. I wondered if Nemo knew what Madame did down in that dungeon room. Feeling nauseous, I tossed my apple and tried to focus on Trey again.
A small market was set up on the East side of the hold, and next to that sat a huge, long building Trey identified as the kitchens and canteen. A series of small workshops billowed smoke from their chimneys to the North. I noticed the blacksmith I’d bandaged a few days ago. He glanced up from his work, smiled, and waved, which Trey returned and I pretended not to see.
I realized with relief we'd made a full circle and the clinic appeared again. Noon had passed, and I desperately wanted to be done interacting with people. When we arrived, Sam and Jax were kicking an old faded ball around outside. I dismounted, my legs aching, as Trey greeted them. I tried to slip past them unnoticed to go inside, but of course, all three of them followed me in, Trey and Sam talking loudly.
“You show Bones where everything is?” Sam asked.
“Yep,” Trey responded.
“Everything?” Sam asked.
Trey rolled his eyes. “Alright, no, I did not show her the place where you shot that cougar.”
“Why not?” Sam asked, outraged. “It’s an important part of the hold history!”
“You were piss drunk and you got off a lucky shot,” Trey retorted.
“I saved the whole fuckin’ hold from that cougar.” Sam glared at him. “Bravely risked my life and limbs. And this is the thanks I get. Can you believe this bullshit, Jax?”
Jax rolled his eyes in an exact imitation of Trey, and Sam pounced on him, wrestling him into a headlock while they both yelled and Trey laughed.
I opened a cabinet to hide the smile I was fighting.