Exchange Rate (11 page)

We procrastinated, all of us eating the rest of the bread in silence, like if we didn’t acknowledge what we were doing, it wouldn’t count if we failed or not.

Excitement warred with our instincts to be cautious. Power and music were more than we could hope for. The list of things that would keep us from trying to join the community was very short and growing shorter.

Out of habit, we fell into step with John at the lead and Bodey bringing up the rear. The gate wasn’t on the side we’d come upon. We stayed out of sight, just inside the forest line.

The chain link fence didn’t end. At the concrete brick towers, the fence turned off to a sharp ninety-degree angle and ran for what could seem forever with no end in sight.  We trekked and pushed on.

We had to find an entrance. There had to be one. If there wasn’t, then how did people get inside? How did they get out?

The question would drive me nuts, if we didn’t find the entrance. Instead of the perfect camp, we’d forever seek entry to a mirage compound.

We turned another corner and suddenly a large entrance with half-sized towers stood guard on either side of the double gates. Men dressed in bright green jumpsuits, holding black semi-automatic weapons, paced on the platforms near the top of the towers.

John pointed toward the arrival of a Jeep, rolling through the triple-layers of gates. Bodey and I gazed at each other, our mouths agape.

A car. A running car. We hadn’t seen one...

I wiped at my cheeks, the moisture from my eyes unwelcome and yet not surprising. “Do you think that means things really might be turning around?” To skip the worst stage and move toward better or best just couldn’t be right.  Something couldn’t be right... yet, I wanted the world so desperately to be fine. I twisted my wedding ring on my finger. What if I lost Bodey? Where would I be? What would I do?

We paused. John carefully studied each of our faces. His seriousness stilled my jitters. “Are we ready, guys?” If John was nervous, then it was okay for me to be.

Ready? For what? We’d grown used to survival mode, living minute by minute, running from groups and fighting for every bite, every sip, every right to sleep and be.

I nodded shortly, swallowing hard on my growing anxiety. But nothing was wrong. We needed inside those fences.

No one had mentioned it, but how did we know the group asking about us and setting the Scoggins house on fire wasn’t feet behind us? Inside the fences we would at least have the peace of mind everyone had to live according to some kind of rules.

Rules. Crap. Rules. I hadn’t fully come to terms with the ones I’d already accepted.

Pray.

Trust no one.

Stay alive.

Stay together.

I could handle those four, but add more and I might not be able to keep everything straight.

“Okay, here we go.” John reached out and clasped Bodey’s hand. My husband grabbed my fingers in his, our comfortable go-to. I loved that he wanted to touch me during little moments.

This was a big moment and he needed to hold me, and I him.

Who would have known I would develop such strong feelings for him? I had never known loving someone so much was possible. Our fingers mashed together.

“Here we go, one, two, three.” John counted us out of the forest. I breathed with the cadence.

We stepped onto the gravel which marked the land around the fence and under the chain link. Rocks crunched under our feet.

Guards on the gate towers pointed at us, calling across to each other. Pointing his weapon at us, the one closest didn’t move as the other disappeared. In seconds the first gate opened, with a new man there to motion us inside the metal perimeter.

I glanced back into the green shifting needles and leaves on the bushes. An odd sadness ached in my belly. Moving from site to site hadn’t been ideal, but I’d grown to know it.

“Are you the only three?” The man looked behind us, searching for people who may or may not be there.

We nodded together, muted by our nerves. What if three was too many? Or not enough? What if we had children? I had to remember to ask about the Scoggins. I couldn’t judge them, because I didn’t know exactly what happened, but I recognized desperation.

“Close ‘em.” The guard waved his fingers toward the gates and turned toward the next set of gates in a simpler set up.

The gates closed behind us, the creaking of metal on metal jarring. I jumped, but tried to cover it.

Inside the next layer of fencing we entered a grass covered sleeve of neutral ground where we weren’t inside but we weren’t outside either. The second set of gates closed behind us and the wooden gates swung open, revealing the inner workings of the camp.

Grass-covered mounds protruded from the ground in orderly rows, half-way out like missile silos, bunker style. Neatly kept lawns and graveled paths invited us further inside.

The smell of fried chicken slapped me in the face.

Instantly, my mouth watered.

The man escorted us inside, closing the final gates to freedom. But I was distracted. I didn’t care anymore. Food aromas had taken hold and I couldn’t think straight. I would do anything for anyone who gave me a plate of chicken.

From the direction of a parked Jeep a tall figure approached us. His white cowboy hat complemented the silver in his suit jacket and silver tie. A white button up shirt over snug blue jeans reminded me of a cowboy politician, looking honest but he might be trying too hard.

He lifted his hand. “Howdy, welcome to Freedom Pass.” The man closed the distance and shook John’s hand then Bodey’s. He tilted his hat to me and smiled. “Ya’ll look like you’ve been through hell, if you don’t mind me sayin’. Is it just you?”

“Yes. We’ve been walking for days. We’ve heard about this place, so we came to check things out.” John nodded, holding his shoulders straight even as the differences between the new man and himself were glaringly obvious. John’s beard and matted clothing paled next to the guy’s neatness.

“I’m Rowan. Why don’t you come in and let’s see if we’re going to be a good fit?” His straight white teeth sparkled. A clean shaven strong jawline added to the home-again feel. John and Bodey hadn’t shaved in so long. They had found scissors at one of the houses we’d looted – and they kept their beards as short as possible. But patchy. I’d caught John stroking his many times.

Our bedraggled selves followed him across the short lawn and down some steps to enter a bunker set into the ground like a half-grown home. He stepped to the side, allowing us inside the building.

A room set up like an office from the sixties with vinyl chairs, shiny in primary colors, and padded vinyl tabletops in the center. Bright orange and green file cabinets lined one wall alongside a humming olive green fridge.

An appliance that worked? What would Rowan do if I ran and checked to make sure I wasn’t imagining the noise?

Rowan pointed toward some chairs, and crossed the shag carpet to hang his jacket on a coat tree beside an oval mirror. He turned, pausing to glance at himself in the mirror while loosening his tie. “We need to get to know you first, so if you don’t mind, we’ll just get comfortable. Go ahead and do the same. I need to have my guards check your weapons.” He held up his hand at John’s move to stand. “I won’t keep them. This is simply for my safety and yours. If we decide to move forward, you can have them back with registration and rights as allowed in our town.”

Town? My memories of a town or a city didn’t have prairie dog mounds or towers with guns, but my memories had food and safety to a degree. If he wanted to call that place a town, I could respect his declaration if he provided resources for the people in his group.

Another man ducked inside, standing by the door with his arms behind his back. His sandy blond hair was lighter than Bodey’s and his clean-shaven appearance matched that of Rowan. The guard, however, didn’t wear a suit or tie, instead his worn jeans and long-sleeve shirt were unobtrusive. And he was just present.

John passed over his hand gun. Bodey followed suit. I didn’t have mine anymore. I’d lost the piece in the middle of our camp in the flames.

Rowan reached forward, pulling them across the table to rest in the middle, neither closer to him or them.

John slid his bags off and Bodey and I followed suit. My back ached and my shoulders felt like they were in a perma-slump. I wanted to reach back and check for a Quasimodo hump.

“Please, take a seat. Can I get you a drink?” He moved to the fridge. “I have juices, pops, and water.” His nonchalance jarred me more than the possibility at having a pop.

Bodey and I looked to John. He was the most cautious. My instinct was to take everything he offered because my hunger ate into my hips. I was so hungry, so thirsty, so tired. The survivor inside me didn’t care if we got into the community or not so long as we got something to eat like fried chicken. A meal. Something more solid than seed-and-nut bread.

John took a long, discerning moment to study whatever he searches for when he makes a decision. I held my breath, waiting for his answer. I didn’t have to wait, but he would make the smarter choice, whereas I was too impulsive.

“Yes, please.” He inclined his head and offered a hesitant smile. Rowan pulled an armful of varied beverages from the appliance and manhandled them to the table.

Condensation caught on the side of the orange juice bottle nearest me. A drop of water rolled down the side and I couldn’t look away. My mouth was suddenly drier than it’d ever been.

Rowan picked up the juice I eyed and offered the bottle to me. I didn’t hesitate, curling my fingers around the cold body, my mouth suddenly overly moist with anticipation. Shaking the bottle because that’s what you did with a bottle of juice, I glanced at Bodey and John. Each had their own bottle and shook them or already sipped their contents.

I couldn’t wait any longer. I twisted the lid and closed my eyes as I sipped at the sweet-tart liquid. Oh. Wow.

The silence in the room was deafening as we enjoyed our first truly cold beverage in over a year – drinking cold things during the winter didn’t count. All you want is warmth then.

Screw manners. I drained my drink, wiping the excess drops from my top lip and replacing the lid. Placing the empty bottle on the table, I nodded. “Thank you.” I grinned like an idiot and didn’t care.

“Would you tell me your names?” Rowan’s respect at our plight came as if he understood hunger. But how was that possible? He looked like he had never missed a meal. Not that he was heavy, not even close. His muscle mass defied starvation and his features were too filled in.

“I’m John Christianson and this is my son, Bodey and his wife, Kelly.” He didn’t claim me as his daughter. I shifted on the seat. It was my first time being introduced as Bodey’s wife.

Rowan glanced sharply at me, eyeing my ring. “Married? How old are you?”

“I just turned nineteen, sir.” I lifted my chin. He wouldn’t shame me about being too young. Age had nothing to do with surviving this crazy stuff.

His gaze trailed past me to his guard and he stared for a drawn out moment before turning his attention back to us. “Were you married before the government fell?”

Looking quizzically at Bodey and John, I shook my head. “No. We just got married a couple days ago.”

“Who performed the ceremony?” He leaned back in his seat and tapped his finger on the edge of the table. He wouldn’t look at John or Bodey, but held me captive in his gaze.

“Um... John did.” I lamely pointed at my father-in-law without looking at him. Was I wrong?

Rowan considered me for another moment then straightened toward the table. “This sounds like I have to treat it like a common law situation.”

“Common law has to do with length of time. This doesn’t fall under those boundaries.” John crossed his ankle over his knee.

Had Rowan just said I wasn’t married?

“That may be so, but common law means it’s more private in nature rather than ceremonial or contractual. There is no government to support contracts like the one you’re suggesting, therefore I have to treat it like common law.” He removed his hat and folded his hands on the table. Even under the bucket of the tight hat, he was neatly maintained with shaved dark stubble. “If you stay, you’ll get your own bunker on the side of the compound with the other single people and you’ll date those who are matched to you. If Bodey fits, then, well, he fits. But if not, you’ll be expected to move on.”

“So what are you saying?” I half-stood, but Bodey’s hand pressed me back to my seat.  I thrust my jaw to the side. “I’m married.” Was he kidding? He couldn’t say I was or wasn’t something. The one thing I couldn’t lose was Bodey and that was the first thing Rowan wanted to take from me. I wouldn’t stay. I didn’t need to stay at another bunker. Not with Bodey close but so far.

I jostled my leg, anxious to get out of there.

Rowan nodded slowly. “I understand your frustration, but let me put it this way for you, Kelly. You’re only nineteen years old. You look fairly healthy. Until I know what your talents are, that’s all I have to go on for entry into our town.” He pointed his finger at Bodey and John. “These guys might be brilliant men and have skills to turn dirt into food, but as far as this community’s well-being is concerned, you have more value and worth than they do.”

That took me aback. I had never been told I was worth anything simply because I was a girl. Lifting of their own accord, my shoulders pulled back and I sat a little straighter. I listened a little closer.

“So what are you saying?” My eyebrows drew together and I shifted my lips to the side. I crossed my arms, determined to leave after speaking.

Then I looked at John and Bodey, took in the true basis of the situation. Staying in camp wasn’t just me and my interests. They wanted to be there, too. Safety and food were high on all our priority lists.

He sighed. “To put it bluntly, if you don’t stay, I don’t see the point in keeping these men.” He pressed his lips together, letting me absorb his meaning. Glancing between the three of us, Rowan blinked, watching us as if assessing our reactions.

If I didn’t stay, would Bodey and John still want to? How did I react to that? “But if I stay, I can’t be with Bodey and John?” But beyond those walls, Shane and his gang stalked us like rabbits, closing in until our feet were in their snares.