What Survives of Us (Colorado Chapters Book 1) (27 page)

Piper started, then threw a furtive glance at Brody. He was emptying his day bag so he could organize and refill it, the way he did every morning, and he didn’t look up.  First the screaming, now this.  Looked like she was officially hearing things.

“Don’t just drift, Piper.  Decide what you want, analyze, and choose a course of action.”

How many times had her dad given her that advice, especially in her party-till-you-puke college years?  Hearing his beloved voice, even if it was a stress-induced hallucination, brought tears to her eyes.  She blinked fast and kept her face turned towards the window.

             
So easy, to keep drifting.  So hard, to wake up.  Waking up meant thinking.  Thinking meant feeling.  Thinking and feeling would mean acting.  Even in zombie mode, she knew that.

             
Brody was suddenly there, his hand encircling her wrist again.  “What are you thinking?”

             
Shit.  Shit!  Usually she had some benign phrase ready for these “tests,” but her mind was completely blank.  “Ah, I, ah…”

             
Her head snapped to the side, her hair flying across her face to stick in her eyes and mouth.  It never failed to shock her, no matter how many times he hit.  Until now, there had been no violence in her world.  He could hit so fast and so hard, while barely seeming to move. 

“Don’t lie to me.  What are you thinking?”

Piper righted herself slowly and swallowed the coppery taste in her mouth.  “Birds,” she said as evenly as she could manage.  “I was watching a bird, and I can’t remember the name.  The big black and white one.”

He stared at her, on and on and on.  He always did this, and usually it terrified her.  This morning, though, the theme song to “Jeopardy” popped into her head.  She nearly started singing it.  She dug her nails into the palm of her free hand and concentrated with all her might on looking blank and scared.

Finally, he released her wrist with a flick.  “Magpie.  Go use the bathroom.  We need to get going.”

Ducking her head, she scurried to collect clean clothes before shutting the bathroom door behind her.  She used the toilet first, as fast as she could.  Her time in the bathroom was carefully monitored; Brody checked on her frequently, regardless of how private a function she was performing.  When she was finished, she stripped out of the sweats and t-shirt she had slept in and slid into her clean clothes, sighing in relief when the door didn’t pop open while she was naked.  She scraped her hair back into a low ponytail without bothering to comb it, then brushed her teeth gingerly.  She spat in the basin and went still, staring down at the bright red streaks mixed with the foamy toothpaste.  Then she did something she hadn’t done in a long time.

She looked in the mirror.

The red mark on her cheek was layered over yesterday’s deepening bruise, and a yellow smudge from the one a few days before that.  Her skin was sickly pale and her face was thin to the point of gauntness.  Now that she thought about it, her jeans were looser than normal, too.  She pulled her sweatshirt to the side, staring at the black outline of Brody’s fingers on her prominent collarbone. 

Were the others blind?  Did they think she liked her sex rough? Did they tell themselves she was losing weight because she was too madly in love to eat?  She looked into her own eyes, and out of the deep box-inside-a-box where she’d stuffed it, rage bubbled up.  She leaned towards the mirror, teeth bared.

“Choose!” she hissed at herself.  “Analyze!  Choose a course!”

Brody’s sharp rap on the door nearly sent her scurrying back into her zombie cage.  “Move it, Piper.  Two minutes, or I’ll help you finish.”

She watched her own face pinch with fear.  “I’m hurrying,” she answered.  She ran water in the basin, but her eyes never left her own in the mirror.

She would die like this, eventually.  She was sure of it.  She would either lose the will to live, or he’d kill her.  A slow death either way.  From the same place she’d stuffed the rage, a fierce desire to live surged through her.  She leaned close to the mirror once more, smiling with red-stained teeth and touching her reflection-self tenderly on the cheek.

“I’d rather die quick, wouldn’t you?”

She left the bathroom with exactly 15 seconds to spare, wearing the vague, obedient expression she had spent the last minute and 10 seconds practicing.

Analysis had begun.

They walked to the mess hall like always, Piper trailing slightly behind.  Brody had defeated her at every turn so far by planning, as simple as that.  He had anticipated every possible response she might have to the events he had set in motion, and had been ready with a ruthless counterattack.  He was a brilliant tactician, she had to give him that.

Well, Brody might know tactics, but Piper knew people.  She’d been studying them all her life.  She had never questioned what she’d major in at college, not from the moment she learned what the study of people and social behavior was called.  Under her blank mask, she smirked with ironic delight.  How many people had informed her that sociology was a great major if you wanted to wait tables?  Looked like some of those college classes might have some real-world applications after all.

Brody spoke without looking at her.  “Who do you have left to do a rotation with?”

One of Levi’s many objections to Piper’s continued presence in the group had been her lack of any practical skills.  To appease him, Brody had agreed to allow her to spend time with some of the others, to see if she had an aptitude for a particular discipline or skill set.  So far, she had proven herself to be an abysmal cook and disinclined towards wilderness survival.

She had already thought this through and knew exactly how she would respond, but she waited a heartbeat.  Then two.  “Uhm.  I was with Max yesterday.”

“Yeah.”  Brody gave her a derisive glance.  “He said you could live off the land just dandy, as long as the land was a fully stocked Walmart.”

She didn’t respond.  He would lead her through this.  His consistency was her advantage.

“Levi won’t have you.”  He never missed a chance to tell her that.  “And I doubt you’d be able to handle any kind of firearm, anyway.”

Another smirk behind the mask, like a jewel in a hidden treasure chest.  He couldn’t know she was the daughter of Annie Oakley reincarnated, and had inherited at least a measure of her mother’s aptitude.  This time, she did answer.  “I don’t want to learn to shoot.  Guns scare me.”

She felt Brody’s sharp eyes on her and plodded on placidly, her own eyes drifting between the path ahead and the tops of the swaying trees.  Even now, they soothed her.

After a few moments, he spoke again.  “You’ll need to learn, eventually.  It’s a skill everyone in the group needs to have.”

             
Score another one for her.  “I haven’t been with Ruth.  Or Josh.”  She gave her voice just a little more animation.  “I’d like to learn what Josh does.  Communications was my major in college.”

             
Brody shot her a disgusted look.  “It’s not the same thing.  Idiot,” he muttered under his breath, and Piper’s heart beat a triumphant tattoo.

             
Her goal was simple:  Escape from Brody, and reunite with her family.  Something was wrong there, she was sure of it, but dwelling on it would cripple her.  Above all, she needed to control her emotions so she could make quick, clean decisions.  She had a single advantage:  Brody thought she was cowed and more than a little stupid.  Making sure he continued to believe that was her top priority.

             
Priority two:  She needed to alter her position in the social network of the group.  She couldn’t survive on her own, at least not yet.  Right now, she had no social capital whatsoever, no value, and no connections other than Brody.  Her relationship with him was blatantly asymmetrical and as such, damaged her standing even more.  This was a warrior culture, and she was chattel.  She needed to re-cast herself without tipping her hand to Brody, and she knew just how to do it:  Work. 

This group was more formal than most, in that it had assigned specific tasks to its members in order to achieve a specific goal.  She needed them to trust her enough to assign her a task.  When she had been given that task, she needed to do it brilliantly, diligently, without complaint or fanfare.  She needed to be noticed by everybody but Brody.  This was the trickiest part of her plan, and she would have to negotiate every step with the caution of a tightrope walker.

“If she’ll have you, you’ll be with Ruth today.  We should have more than one medic, and someone who passed a couple years of college should be able to learn basic first aid.”

Piper wrung her hands.  “I’m not very good with blood,” she began, and as she’d known he would, Brody stopped and spun to face her, crowding his body close to hers, using his bulk to intimidate and subdue.  He cupped her face in his hand, forcing her to look at him, thumb and fingers biting into her cheeks.

“Are you questioning me?”

“No!  No, I’m not, really, it’s just I get sick when I see blood, and I didn’t w
ant that to be a problem, and-”

“Shut up.  You were questioning me, and you’ll pay a penalty for it later.”  How he loved to promise future violence, then follow through.  “Until then, you’ll spend the day with Ruth.  Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

Everyone else called him “Sanders,” but he insisted she call him “Brody.”  Over and over.  It was a potential chink in his armor that she needed to analyze.  “Yes, Brody.”

“Good.”  He stayed where he was, gazing down at her, eyes narrowed.  For just a moment, his hand softened on her face, nearly a caress.  His eyes drifted to her hair, and he frowned.  “Your hair needs attention,” he said huskily.  “I’ll take care of it tonight.”

He dropped his hand, turned and walked away, and Piper added another element to her analysis. 

That first night, he had asked her to submit to him willingly.  “I don’t want it to be rape,” he had said.  Since then, he had not repeated those words.  He used her whenever he wished, but he never tried to caress or arouse her.  Occasionally, though, a moment would pass between them where he was almost tender.  Occasionally, she caught him looking at her with what she could only describe as “longing.”

Growing up, Piper’s mother had tried to instill compassion in her girls.  “Those who are heartless,” she would say, “Once cared too much.  How badly must they be hurting inside, if hurting others is the only thing that makes them feel better?”

Piper supposed her mother hadn’t intended the lesson to be used as a weapon, but that’s just what she planned to do.  If Brody had a tender underbelly, she was going to find it.  When she did, she would disembowel him.

They arrived at the mess hall.  Brody held the door open for her, and she stepped in ahead of him.  Most everyone was already seated at one of the long tables, the low buzz of conversation punctuated by occasional laughter.  As always, her presence triggered a momentary silence.  Then, as a single entity, they shifted their bodies, angling away from her, shutting her out.

She served herself from the kitchen and headed back out to the main area.  Brody always sat with Levi and Tyler, and he didn’t expect her to join them – part of his “everything’s fine” camouflage.  Jenny, her husband Aaron, and Caden kept to themselves.  Josh, Ethan and Adam could usually be found together – the others had started calling them Things 1, 2 and 3 – but Piper only sat near them if either Ruth or Max was already there. 

Being the oldest members of the group, Ruth and Max tended to stick together.  They were also the only ones who appeared interested in increasing social cohesion in the group by rotating their seating choices.  Most frequently, they could both be found sitting with the Things, but often one or both of them would join Jenny’s family.  Occasionally, Max would join Brody’s group, though Ruth never did. 

Piper had analyzed these connections without conscious thought.  Up until now, she had chosen the seat least likely to earn her a reprimand later, then had concentrated on pushing her food around to form pleasing artistic patterns.  This morning, though, she was glad to see Ruth and Max seated with the Things.  They were definitely more prone to levity than Jenny’s family.  And she was hungry.

She sat down near the group, at the exact distance she had calculated to be “close but not intrusive.”  Aware of Brody’s eyes on her, she stuck with the pattern she had already established, pushing the food around in a lackluster manner, eating only an occasional bite until he was fully engaged in conversation with Adam.  Then, keeping her eyes on him, she shoveled eggs in as fast as she could.  He looked up once, and she let her eyes go unfocused, let them drift up to the ceiling, and stopped chewing altogether, until he looked away again.  Then she crammed half a piece of toast in her mouth.

She glanced at the group beside her and found Ruth staring at her, eyes narrowed.  Shit, Piper thought.  She let her eyes slide vacantly away, and put the rest of the toast back on her plate.  She stared into space, face slack, berating herself.  She needed to keep her behavior consistent in front of everyone, not just Brody, until she had properly set her plan in motion.  One person on her side did her no good – they would just be eliminated.  She needed to shift the entire group.  Hungry as she still was, she left the rest of the food on her plate.  To distract herself, she tuned in to the group’s conversation.