The Blood Bargain (3 page)

I swung open the wooden door, thankful that whoever had last frequented the wash down had put the soap back.

I slugged off my work wear, throwing my size six jeans over the door. Followed by shirt and all the extras. I remember years ago I couldn.t stand to be naked. Pop culture had given me, like most girls in my class, enough body issues to keep a psychologist well fed years to come.

It wasn
’
t that I was fat. I had some meat on my bones just too much to grace the cover of any teen magazine. I wasn
’
t a size small or extra small, I was a medium. Not terrible, but just off enough to drive me insane with calorie counting. It was an epiphany when I went from feeling

like I could lose ten pounds
, to just being thankful I hadn’
t lost my life.

Bo
dy image is one of the things I’
m glad died with the world. No one was obese anymo
re; there just wasn’
t enough food for it. Not only that, but the active lifestyle and earth grown foods kept us in much better shape than the processed packaged alternatives. I was leaner now,

muscles in my arms more defined from lugging my bow around.

Flick of my wrist and I was under the
luke
warm spray. Minutes later the stench of death and blood had been replaced with mild soap. Refreshed and somewhat at ease, I flipped the lever. No point in a long shower, wasted water. Over the left wall of the shower shack we

kept a collection of towels. Standing on my tiptoes I reached up and over, feeling along the chipped wooden pegs for a handful of cloth.

Got it.

With my towel secure, I wandered inside and quietly up to my room for clean clothes. I hate to be attached to inanimate objects, but I must admit I am attached to my room.

Opening the door was like a time machine to the early nineteen hundreds. A thick wood armoire painted in an off white and a rod iron bed took up the majority of the space. The walls had that grandma floral paper, which complemented the patchwork quilt on the bed. A few

framed silhouettes and a cross hung on the walls. It was utterly basic, utterly beautiful. When I was in my room, I thought back to the world that was. The world before me, before the outbreak, before technology. It was my solace.

Opening the doors to my armoire I revealed the futuristic secrets I hid from the rest of the space; my guns, radio receiver, various knives, even a grenade I pulled off a dead soldier when I was seventeen. Beneath my shelf of necessary evils were my clothes.

I flipped the switch on the radio receiver and set it to scan. If I was lucky
I’d
pick up some mundane chatter from the patrols or a
s
outhbound convoy from Lake City while I got dressed.

Our northern sister colony was two hundred and seventy miles away. While in pre-outbreak conditions that was nothing but a few hours
in the car, now it was a multi-
day excursion that was only undertaken with heavy

armaments. There was usually a monthly journey before the snow fell to trade supplies. By supplies I mean both goods and skilled labor. Doctors, mechanics, plumbers...they are hard to find these days.

Even though I was
o
ff duty the rest of the night I still dressed in a just in case compatible outfit. Many of the folks in town had grown
dependent
on the safety our night security had placed around the compound. Zoe wore flowery dresses and grew her hair out. I still

preferred pants tight on my skin and my hair just above my shoulders. Not only because I worked where I did, I just couldn
’
t seem to relax back into what I called civilian mode. Not to say I didn
’
t compromise on some things.

On shift I wore my steel toed boots and leather jackets. Off the clock I preferred something less extreme, but still flexible enough if the situation changed on a
moment’
s notice.

I grabbed a pair of well-
worn sandals and a long tank top. I loved this time of year. It was probably close to 70 outside, perfect weather for early fall. I could still get by without a lot of bulk in my clothes. Listening to the steady white noise pouring from the radio, I started to

towel dry my hair. That was about the extent of my beauty regimen, makeup was pretty much a forgotten thing.

Now with my free time ahead of me, it was time to plan my night. After helping Zoe with dinner I could walk up to the square and hit the pub. Most of the folks my age and up frequented the establishment at night.

Sounded like a plan if I could talk Candice into going with me. Despite the safety our
vampiric
brethren had bestowed upon us, everyone moved in groups at nightfall. It was almost instinctual, pack protection

against a predator. Not that they really came out among the survivors. The vamps rarely left that old farmstead on the edge they took over.

“Is
a..one
t...re?
Ple
...! ….se r....
sp
..d.” A garbled voice cut through my thoughts. I whirled around so fast I
lost my balance.

Stumbling over my own feet I grabbed the
mic
and slammed down on the button.

“This is Evelyn Younger, Junction settlement. What is your position?” I awaited an answer for what seemed like hours and was met with silence.

“Hello? This is Evelyn Younger, do you need assistance?” I kept at it, trying to maintain a calm cool and collected voice. We never picked up a signal unless the lake city boys were at the wall.

“..cant...
c.n
.....
st
..n....cent...re..tr.
pp
..ed.” The audio was so garbled. Frowning, I tried to make out what was said. There was a strip mall not far from my old house, Stone Center. I remembered the nail salon and the frozen yogurt shop. Was it possible they were holed up in there?
 
What was a convoy doing so close to the metro anyway? I immediately outlined my game plan, check in with Dad and form a rescue party.

But...Dad won
’
t want to send anyone out that far. He
’
ll want to wait for nightfall. Send the bloodsuckers. Which were about as trustworthy as snake oil salesmen. Plus who knew if those people would last that long?

Decision made. I threw on my leather jacket and traded in my comfy sandals for steel toed boots. If they were alive, they needed help.

I bounded down the stairs, throwing Zoe a rain check on potatoes. She waved me out the door, not seeming to mind in the slightest.

Out of the house I took 2nd street west towards main road, walking as briskly as I could without drawing attention.

North of the wall there was a Honda dealership. Junction kept a whole plethora of bikes there, for the rare occasion when we needed something that was not on hand. I wondered if they would even run. Once the bloodsuckers moved in, our folks figured they made better errand boys than our own people. It went without saying they didn.t need to rely on vehicles for transport. Those things were fast. Like blur of motion at hundred miles per hour fast.

The city was built like most rural towns in the state, it was effectively a giant square grid. Commerce at the center, homes towards the edges. My home was at the southern corner of the main drag, so I essentially could follow the center road all the way out of Junction.

At the center of town, known as the square, were the buildings that once served as stores. A lot of the center shops had been converted. The beauty parlor was a chicken coup, the fashion boutiques and knick knack
shops now used for community food storage. The only one that still held its entire original purpose was the pub. Known as The Garage, it was the most popular place in town. I guess years after the end of the world, folks still loved to drink their troubles away.

“Hey gorgeous.” A deep baritone voice called from behind me. There was only one man in Junction with that voice. The last person I ever wanted to see.

“What do you want Zack?” I let the annoyance seep into my tone, just a little bit. Turning around I found myself staring up into a pair of two blue eyes at the top of a six foot two jock frame. Although the black tank top, worn jeans and combat boots made him look more like a

biker gang reject than an all American.

“My
Father is
having a dinner tonight for the council, you
comin
with your Dad?” He asked, sounding smug and eager all at the same time.

“What's the occasion?” I already knew but thought I
’
d ask anyway.

“Didn
’
t you hear?” His face dropped slightly, giving
me the pleasure of kicking him off his high horse, if only for a moment. “I thought everybody knew. I
’
m the newest member elect.”

“Congratulations.” Not really.

“So you
’
re coming?” He shuffled his feet, running a hand through his thick crop of dark hair. “I was hoping you and I could have a chance to talk.”

“I don
’
t know...I
’
m pretty tired from my shift.” I know that was a stretch of an excuse, but I felt the need to point out that I actually helped around here.

“I think it
’
s in your best interests to be there. Why
with me on the council, I
’
ll be one generation away from running this place. Most eligible bachelor in town.” He winked at me. He actually winked. I tried my best not to let the completely disgusted reaction I felt in my gut cross my face.

It was no secret that Zack Graham was crushing on yours truly.

The confusing part to me was why, it
’
s not like I was the only twenty something female in the camp. Not to mention with his position, and his ego, Zack could pretty much have his pick of the flock.

The confusing part to everyone else, according to my Dad anyway, was why I didn.t return the affection. My Dad had dron
ed on and on about him being a ‘
good match
’
since the wall went up. It wasn
’
t that he was ugly, Zack was far from it. He had the looks, the walk, and the

smile.
The only part that was missing was the brain and the purpose.

I used to joke with Candice that we should put Zack on supply runs; he could just blend right in with the infected. However for that to work, Zack would have to actually do something for the community.

He spent his days-from the first survivors meeting on-following his father around and nodding. I understand that papa Graham wanted to imbue some sort of leadership ability on his son. Granted he may even have
attachment issues with his Mom getting ripped to shreds in front of them. Nevertheless, having him sit by and observe while we all pitched in to
put up the wall and half a dozen other building repairs was ridiculous.

This do-nothing-say-nothing was now a council member. The first who had not shed blood sweat and tears for the whole. Unfortunately this brought to light another side effect of social regression; class inheritance.
However, there would be time for my thesis on changes to society later. Right now I had to get the big lug out of my way before daylight faded anymore. Who knew how long those survivors had?

I made some lame half promise to attend his function, just to get him out of my way. It worked. He beamed and sauntered off to
wards what once was city hall.

Undoubtedly planning ways to get me alone tonight to impress me with his flexing muscles.

Dodging the rest of the community was easy once I got past the last house on the block. It was just field and road to the wall from here. I took a deep breath, enjoying the clean fall air. The Midwest used to be crop dusting chemical central with all the farmlands. It had caused everyone to
have a myriad of health problems and allergies. Without planes and millions to feed the most of the corn fields were just overgrown grass and wildflowers.

A sea of green leaves with spots of purple and red circling the dusty cracked asphalt. If I was lucky I would squeak by without running into a patrol.

I started planning my route in my head. The freeway would take me up to the south edge of town, I would stay on the main route till the closest exit. That is unless it was jam packed with cars. I wanted to avoid housing areas as much as possible for obvious reasons. Full speed I could be up there in twenty minutes, tops.

“Where are you headed?”

Damn it, I thought too soon. Cole had spotted me. He was jogging up from the left.

“Hi Cole.”

“Hi Cole isn
’
t a place.” He had caught up to me, stepping in front of me it was obvious I had hit a roadblock. Correction, a
manblock
. Strength wise Cole could pretty much just scoop me up and carry me home if he wanted. “You
’
re not on duty, why are you out here?” I thought about
bullshitting him, but it wouldn’
t get me anywhere. Time to stress him out.