Read Exchange Rate Online

Authors: Bonnie R. Paulson

Tags: #ya apocalypse, #ya dystopic, #ya romantic suspense, #ya thriller, #YA survivor fiction, #survivor, #survival, #survival fiction, #end of world

Exchange Rate (16 page)

BOOK: Exchange Rate
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“No. Don’t. I don’t want him worried.” I shook my head, rubbing my forearm. “Please, he’s already so mad at Rowan.” Panic welled inside me. Bodey hadn’t smiled in so long. Seeing him depressed made things worse for me. “I can handle Ethan.” I offered a tight smile, even as a prickling chill skittered down my arms and legs.

I could cope with his intrusive comments and examining gaze.

I had to.

~~~

I
don’t know what irritated me more, that I was so uncomfortable going to work with Ethan or that I was so tired. I’d slept hard the night before, but I couldn’t seem to get enough sleep. Or water. Or anything.

I pushed inside, didn’t even stop to knock on the door. Honestly, I didn’t care. Ethan sat in a chair, his head in his hand and his eyes closed. With his mouth slightly open, he couldn’t hide his soft snoring.

Grabbing the clipboard from the hook, I disappeared around the side of the first aisle. If I didn’t have to speak to him, I’d be better off. I wouldn’t lose my control and slap him, like I desperately wanted to do.

I didn’t watch where I was going and tripped over a protruding ladder leg. The clipboard clattered to the ground and I fell to my hands and knees. Lovely. Pushing myself up from the ground, I bent to retrieve my board.

Ethan wrapped his arms around my waist and pressed his groin against my backside. His excitement was more than obvious.

I froze. What did I do? Jerking upright, I spun, but couldn’t get my t-shirt out of his fingers. “What are you doing? For the last time, I’m married to Bodey. And even if I wasn’t? You still wouldn’t get a yes out of me.” Swatting at his hand, I grimaced. Why wouldn’t he let go? The man was a dang parasite.

Ethan arched his eyebrow, challenge sparked in the black of his pupils. “I’ll just have to make you change your mind.” He curled his fingers tighter, drawing me closer.

“It won’t happen. I’m in love with Bodey.” Nausea worked its way up my throat.

He stepped toward me, wrapping his fingers around my upper arms. “You’d be surprised what I can do.” He bent his head to where our eyes were on level and his jaw tightened, placing a layer of frost over his charm. “What if Bodey disappeared? We take in new people every day. What if I had your precious husband replaced?”

The meaning behind his sinister words couldn’t be clearer. “Y-you can’t do that.”

“You don’t know how much power I have here.” He shook me. My head flopped back and forth. Just as suddenly, he stopped to caress my shoulders with his thumbs but not releasing me. “Kelly, you would be so happy with me. Why don’t you try it out? No one has to know. Just you and me.” He licked his lips, studying me from head to toe, his gaze lingering at my breasts and neck.

“I would know and the only power you have here is because of your dad. You’re nothing without Daddy.” I pulled from his grasp, rubbing the skin he’d chafed with his firm grasp.

Something darkened in his eyes and the skin around his mouth tightened. His hand flew through the air and struck my cheek and temple, knuckles splitting the skin at my eye socket.

Out of nowhere. Without warning.

I fell to the side, catching myself on the ladder. Taking abuse wasn’t in my makeup. I hadn’t taken anything from Charlie, I certainly wasn’t going to take it from a daddy’s boy like Ethan.

Thrusting myself up from the rungs, I didn’t slow my momentum as I stepped forward twice and drove my knee upward into his groin. The connection jarred me to my ankle. I didn’t wait for him to bend over and groan. Instead, I ran.

I ran.

I ran.

And didn’t stop until I reached the bunker.

Chapter 14

I couldn’t stop crying. My tears hadn’t been so present since my mom’s death. The tears didn’t help the pain below my eye. The salt stung the abrasion from Ethan’s slap which made me cry harder. Such an ugly circle.

Sobbing, I pushed through the front door and slumped to the side, leaning on the wall. Pulling my knees up to my chest, I wrapped my arms around my lower legs and held on. I cried, my face pressed against my knees.

He’d assaulted me and threatened Bodey. What had we gotten into?

“Kelly?” Bodey’s soft voice startled me.

I jerked my head up, my sobs cutting off into hiccups and sniffs. Wiping my eyes with the backs of my hands, I forced a smile. “Sorry, did I wake you? I didn’t think about that.” Of course, I hadn’t cured my selfishness.

He knelt beside me. His touch soft. “What’s the matter, doll?” His eyes searched my face, stopping when his gaze fell on my cut.

Bodey’s smile froze and he reached up, his finger tracing my skin underneath the wound on my cheek. “What happened, Kelly?” His voice could cut glass. Fear at what he would do, could do, filled me. What if I lied? I could say I fell and hit a shelf or something. Or maybe that I hadn’t been paying attention and tripped coming home.

But then how would I explain being home four hours early?

I couldn’t lie to him. I couldn’t hide the truth. We needed to get back to how we were before we got to Freedom Pass. We hadn’t hidden anything from each other. “Ethan slapped me when I told him I wouldn’t sleep with him. He... he said he could get rid of you without any problems. And he and Rowan keep pushing that we’re not really married. So he slapped me and I kneed him. In the groin. Hard.” I pressed my lips together, surprised at the verbal onslaught I’d allowed to escape.

Apparently, I’d wanted to tell him more than I thought. I hadn’t fought the opportunity even a little. Relief warmed me. I’d told him. Now we could leave. Just get our things and leave that place. John wouldn’t want to stay, not when he found out what had happened. Why would he? Why would we?

Bodey didn’t say anything. His jaw tightened and his skin flushed with anger. I shrank from him, worried he might be mad at me.

But I hadn’t done anything, except hurt Ethan. Would Bodey be worried about our position in the community? Would he want to stay in the relatively safe walls more than he’d want to stay with me?

He jumped from the ground and rushed through the door.

I stared after him a second. He hadn’t been mad at me.
Oh, no.
He was going after Ethan. Sprinting to follow, I tried to catch him as fast as I could.

Bodey disappeared around the corner of the bunker, headed toward the hangar. I jogged after him, but he’d always been faster than me with his longer stride.

Coming around the corner, I stopped at the sight of John holding Bodey’s arms. He softly shook Bodey to get his son to focus on him. John’s low volume barely reached me but got louder as I closed the distance. “Tell me what happened? What’s going on?”

I hung back a few feet, aware that my cheek might not look good. Bodey’s hands moved as he spoke, his tone reaching me but not his words. John glanced at me once or twice and nodded. His own jaw tightened.

Bodey pushed past John, stomping the path I’d run not long before.

John glanced at me over his shoulder and followed his son. “Come on, Kelly. Let’s get this mess straightened out.”

But it wasn’t a mess. Things were clear. I’d been assaulted, attacked, whatever you wanted to call it and my husband wanted vengeance. What would make him feel better? Make me feel better?

Escape.

The hangar not far, we picked up our pace when Rowan emerged from the door and met Bodey on the path.

Bodey’s hands were clenched and Rowan looked impeccably calm. As John and I got closer though, it was evident Rowan’s control was barely managed – his jaw muscle ticked under his narrowed eyes.

“What’s the problem, Bodey?” Rowan crossed his arms, focusing on my husband and ignoring John and me.


Your
son hit my
wife
.” Bodey thrust his finger toward the hangar, the muscles in his arms tight. I’d never seen him so angry, even when he’d wrestled with Charlie.

“According to Ethan, she provoked it.” Rowan didn’t even acknowledge my presence, just settled back onto his leg set a little behind the other. He shrugged. “Sometimes a smack or two is necessary to keep women in line.”

To keep women in line? What had happened to people? A smack or two?

Bodey huffed, arms akimbo. “There is
nothing
bad enough to warrant hitting a woman. Nothing. And she’s
my
wife, not his. Do something about what happened and do it now, or I will.”

Rowan stared into Bodey’s eyes for almost a minute, but Bodey didn’t back down with his shoulders hunched forward and his arms tight in front of him. Finally breaking the standoff, Rowan jerked his head in a semblance of a nod. “We’ll have a council deal with it. Get to your shifts.”

“I don’t work ‘til tonight. And Kelly isn’t working with Ethan anymore. You put her in the medic clinic full time or somewhere else. No more messing around.” Bodey pulled his head back, watching Rowan like a mongoose and cobra.

Rowan lifted his eyebrows. “I think that goes without saying.” Relief that I would be away from Ethan filled me. Maybe I could tolerate Freedom Pass a little more with him out of my day-to-day routine.

Bodey turned and wrapped his arm around me, leading me back to our bunker. John followed, staying silent. At our door, John grabbed Bodey and hugged him, long and hard. “You did good, kid. I’ve got to get back to work. Have another couple hours to go. See you guys in a little bit, okay?” He nodded at me, trying not to focus on my cheek and eye. Then he turned and walked back the way we came.

I sighed. I didn’t get to have Bodey nights, but I would take a couple hours right then with him.

He took my hand and asked shyly, “Want to hang out with me for a while?”

“Yes.” We hadn’t spent time together in so long. I felt like I didn’t know him. But then he smiled. The first smile I’d seen since we arrived. Once he smiled, I remembered him.

He was my Bodey. My protector. My love.

I’d take those couple hours. A small part of me was happy Ethan had hit me. When he tried pulling Bodey and I apart, he’d only managed to push us closer.

~~~

F
all came faster than any other year before – at least as far as I remembered in nineteen years. The trees turned and sweatshirts no longer kept us warm between bunkers and buildings. Grass browned and then the rains started, dripping from everything in sight, soaking the air. Between the chilly humidity and the skin-biting cold, I couldn’t get warm.

Two months passed slowly as I worked to avoid Ethan and keep my head down. My new job placed me in the kitchens with Cammie who had taken the place of another woman who’d stopped showing up to work.

Autumn abandoned us when the snow flurries came in, the dry bite of the winds created a longing for the humid cold again.

I didn’t know anyone’s names and people avoided getting to know me. Even Cammie wasn’t extremely easy to talk to. We generally worked in silence, but together, like we knew what the other wanted without really having to speak. As long as she didn’t try groping me or kissing me like Ethan had, we worked well together.

So while I worked in medic in the mornings with Cammie, after she’d put in an early day, we would walk together to the kitchens to help there for the dinner meal. The best thing about working with Cammie was she didn’t expect more from me than she was willing to give. That, and she let me sample every dish we worked on together.

My fatigue hadn’t gone away and I struggled with aching muscles and joints. John was worried I was sick. I was worried that I was too stressed out but over what? It wasn’t like I had bills to pay or Ethan chasing after me. Well, that wasn’t true. He followed me everywhere, like I would somehow change my mind and he wanted to make sure he didn’t miss it.

Cammie rolled the flour and egg dough on the granite countertop. Super fine flour we’d ground for over an hour sprinkled over the gray surface. Her forearms rippled as she kneaded the large roll. “This is my mother’s recipe for gnocchi. The trick is the finest flour you can get.” She shrugged. “But you can make it with coarser flour as well. It just doesn’t have the same texture.” She nodded toward a large pot, while she pushed and pounded the dough. “Stir the soup, will you?”

I wiped my hands on my apron. Crossing to the stove, I lifted the lid with a towel so I didn’t burn myself. I grabbed the handle of a large spoon resting on the side of the stovetop. A waft of unstuffed cabbage roll soup hit me in the face. The sweet acidity of the tomatoes turned my stomach. Whirling to a nearby garbage can, I threw up my lunch into the green container.

In a second, Cammie stood beside me as my stomach worked to empty its contents. The bitter contents spurred on a chain reaction and the vomiting returned for another round.

I braced my hands on the sides of the can, gasping for air when I finished. “I’m sorry. I haven’t been feeling well lately.” We rarely talked about our complaints. Every time I even felt negative thoughts coming on, I stamped them down. Bodey, John, and I all worked hard to keep our roof. I didn’t want to bring any more attention to us and risk our safety from the weather and starvation than I already had with Ethan and the inventory position.

Even I had pushed the assault event from my mind with every blast of freezing air when I walked outside and every time our meals were a little bit late and dull hunger bit into my upper stomach. Maybe my strength and principles would return with the warmth of spring, maybe I could be myself again, and not trade who I was for safety, food, and normal colored skin – untinged with blue from the cold.

And yet, there I was, vomiting. If it was a flu, it better go away.

Cammie placed the back of her hand on my forehead, moving her cool palm to feel behind my neck. “You don’t have a fever. How often do you throw up?”

“This is the first time. I’m usually just tired and achy, you know?” I stood straight, arching my back and rubbing my lower spine.  My mouth tasted sour. I moved my tongue and tried swallowing, but the taste prevented me from working too hard.

Cammie handed me a glass of water and I drank it thirstily, never more grateful for a cleansed palette.

I lowered the empty glass. “Sorry, no one else seems to be sick, so I hope it’s just ‘cause I’m tired or something.” I sighed.

BOOK: Exchange Rate
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