The walk through the woods back to the farmhouse took much longer with Matt's gun at the base of my skull. Jesse walked beside us; letting Matt lead the way, but always within arm's reach in case I tried something. I wrenched my arm in Matt's grasp; he responded by shaking me violently.
"I told you to quit that," he growled at my ear.
"Let me walk on my own and I will" I told them, making sure to step on Matt's toes again to emphasize my point. Matt looked to Jesse.
"You'll run," Jesse replied, not bothering to slow or spare a look at either of us.
"No I won't."
"Why not? I would." Jesse's lips turned up in a half grin, and my heart skipped a beat despite myself. I grit my teeth. I felt hot and sticky between my legs, chafing where the damp skin rubbed against the ripstop fabric of my pants.
Every step reminded me of what I didn't want to think about; what had happened back in the motel. His smell was still in my hair, baked into me by the combined heat of both our bodies. The ghosts of his fingers on me, inside me, made me shiver. I was disgusted with myself, but the feeling was mingling with lust, sharpening it in unexpected and unfamiliar ways. It all made me lightheaded, and a little tingly, like when someone draws a fingernail up your spine. In the present circumstances, it wasn't a welcome feeling.
"I'm not going to run," I said, my voice cracking only a little, "and leave everyone else at your mercy."
"How generous of you," Matt snorted. I felt the hot breath of his laughter on the back of my neck. I snuck a glance at Jesse out of the corner of my eye. His face was unreadable.
I was lying, of course. He was right. In school Jesse had taken home medals in cross country, but I was built for speed, not endurance. I ran the 200m and 400m, and I had been damn good. After the pulse, running turned from a hobby to matter of survival. Even though it had been years since we ran for the same team, I was pretty sure I was probably faster than him in short sprints. I just needed an opportunity; a moment of surprise, and I could break away and get to the farmhouse to warn everyone before they even caught my trail.
I tried a different approach.
"What are you planning to do?" I addressed my question only to Jesse; it was clear by this point that between the two men, he was the leader.
"Will it be easier for you if you know?"
"It depends."
"On?"
"What you are planning to do."
He lifted a finger at that one, a short
tsk tsk
from between his teeth. His mouth came to my mind again, unbidden, from when it had explored my skin back at the motel. His two front teeth overlapped, everything a bit overcrowded. I thought about what it would feel like to to run my tongue along their jagged edges.
The tree line was starting to thin; we were approaching the backs of the properties that butted up on this narrow strip of wild; our farmhouse being one of them. I was running out of chances.
"These folks your family or something?" Matt asked, poking me with the barrel of his gun. "Why do you care so much?"
I bristled. They didn't have to be my family for me to care about what happened to them.
"I was in college when the pulse hit, UNF. My parents moved away after I graduated. They'd always wanted to retire to... the east coast." I stopped myself from giving too much detail. They didn't need to know that Lauren, my first real friend from school, had parents who might be described as preppers, who started keeping supplies in their basement starting in the second Obama administration, and who were kind enough to open their doors to a handful of friends and neighbors, myself included, who had nowhere to go.
"And you didn't try to get to them? I mean, it's not like you could fly there, but it's doable. I'm sure they want to know you're okay."
The cruelty of his questions took my breath away. Of course I wanted to be with my parents. I had cried myself to sleep more nights than I could remember, wondering if they were okay, if they thought I was dead. They were older, and the idea that they would try to make it from Maine to Florida was never one I entertained seriously. I was pretty sure they would sit tight and wait for me to get to them. But the idea of crossing half the country... his question brought me back to the chaos of those early days; flashlights crisscrossing in the streets, the sound of glass breaking in the night. The way community and charity fell away like tissue paper when the reality that the shelves were never going to restock finally dawned on people.
"It's different out there, for girls," was all I said. I looked up; we had reached the wooden gate to the backyard. I was out of time.
Tom took great pains to ensure we were indistinguishable from the unoccupied houses from the street, but on this side it was obvious people still lived here. Laundry zigzagged from the railing of the deck to the fence and back again. Early summer tomatoes and okra were bobbing on their vines. Muddy boots piled up next to the kitchen door.
Jesse whirled on me then, so fast I nearly jumped. "How many people inside?"
"How should I know? I've been gone for hours."
"How many people live here?"
"People come and go." Then: "I don't know what you want me to say!"
He got right in my face then, baring his teeth. Matt's gun prevented me from taking a step back.
"You're going to get people hurt, Hazel. Is that what you want? Huh?" He grabbed my chin, twisting my face painfully.
"How. Many. People?"
"Ten of us," I croaked out, wincing from his grasp. "Maybe five or six inside. I'm not the only one who went out today."
"Is this gate locked? Alarmed?"
I shook my head as best I could. "No alarm, no lock when the sun is out. But someone will be watching from the back windows." I directed my eyes over the top of the fence, toward the second story. "They've probably already seen us, so whatever you're going to do, you should get to it before they put a bullet in your skull."
Jesse let me go and turned back to the gate, sliding the lever up while I rubbed my sore face.
"We're not hoarding anything, we have the things we need to survive, nothing more." I told his back as we marched inside. "If there's something specific you're looking for, I'm sure we could help."
Matt and Jesse exchanged glances, and for a brief moment, I felt hope spark in my chest. But then Jesse pulled the gun from his waistband and gestured me forward.
"We stick to the plan."
~~~
Everyone froze when we entered; Jesse first, then me, then Matt with his gun still pressed between my shoulders. Missy and Lauren dropped the cans they were tallying on the kitchen table and ran, ducking below the kitchen island. Sam was just coming down the stairs. His fingers were white knuckled on the wooden railing.
"Go get Tom," I told him. My voice sounded detached from my body, free floating in the center of the room.
Sam looked up toward the second floor landing, but his feet moved down, toward us. As if on instinct, he reached his hand toward me. Terror plummeted through my stomach.
Don't!
Whatever Sam saw on my face, it was enough for him to stop. He looked stricken, but still he turned to head up the stairs like I'd asked. Between us, Jesse looked from me to Sam's retreating form, and I knew he was putting things together.
One problem at a time,
I reminded myself.
Less than thirty seconds passed before Sam reappeared at the top of the stairs, with Tom right behind him. Tom held his arms up, palms facing out.
"What's all this about?" Tom didn't have to shout for his voice to carry. He may have been dressed like an old professor, with black rimmed glasses balanced on his nose, but his body couldn't hide a lifetime of training. It was the kind of strength and stillness that the military used to beat into a person.
"Get everyone together," Jesse said, gesturing in a circle with his gun. "We have business." He pointed toward the kitchen.
"You two, come on up." Lauren and Missy poked their heads out from behind the counter, rising slowly with their hands by their ears. "We don't want to hurt anybody, but that has to start with trust. So get everyone out here, no funny business, and this can stay a friendly chat."
I counted in my mind as people gathered; Tom, Sam, Lauren, Missy, Dan, and Carmen. She'd probably warned the kids to stay hidden on her way up. I thanked God that the others must be still be out; there's no way this wouldn't have come to blows if Travis or Perry had been around.
"This is it," Tom confirmed, "now what the fuck do you want?"
Jesse looked around, and gave a satisfied nod. "We have reason to believe your group is keeping something here that doesn't belong to you.
"My friend Matt here - Matt, step on up." Matt shoved me aside. I lost my balance, but Jesse caught me with one arm, crushing me to his side while keeping his gun pointed out toward the group with the other.
"Do you see any familiar faces?" He asked Matt.
Matt made a meal of stepping in front of each person in turn, looking them over. After he passed by Lauren, I saw Tom give her an almost imperceptible nod. Lauren grabbed Missy and together they shrank to the edges of the great room, stepping around each other in quiet, careful movements. They were calculating their chances, just as I had been. While Matt continued his little intimidation game, Jesse spoke again.
"Tuesday before last - that's eight nights ago, in case you're not up on days of the week-" I could practically feel him grinning, even though I couldn't see his face, "-someone in this group came up on a stalled out Toyota Tacoma. There was a black backpack and a black duffel bag in the back. The Toyota Tacoma belonged to my friend Matt here, as did the contents of the luggage. The backpack was found in the truck, though it had clearly been rifled through. The duffel bag, I believe, made its way back to this farmhouse."
Matt bared his teeth. I swallowed, my heart beating wildly as I twisted around in Jesse's unyielding grip.
"That's what this is about?" I almost shouted at him. "A fucking duffel?"
"Do you know where it is?"
I tried to remember everyone who had gone on patrol week before last; Travis, Sam, Carmen. I couldn't see any of them being this stupid.
When I didn't answer, Jesse turned back to the group.
"Matt had stepped away from his truck to attend to some... biological necessities, and when he came back he saw a masculine figure approximately six feet tall mount a bicycle and leave the scene with the duffel clearly on his back."
Sam? Travis?
"Matt chased as far as he could on foot, but could only manage to catch a glimpse of the thief turning his bicycle down the private drive leading to these houses. Fearing an unfair fight, Matt did the only logical thing one could do in his situation, which was, of course, to come to me." Crushed against him, I could feel the drumbeat of Jesse's heart, beating its way out of his chest.
"They might not have even known the truck was working," I said, breaking the silence. "In case you haven't noticed, a lot of things around here have been left behind."
"There was a joint still lit in the center console," Matt told me, in his best schoolyard taunt. "Fucker took that too," he muttered to himself before swinging his gun around in a wide arc, slowing every time he passed a male face. In the ensuing gasps and cries, Jesse leaned closer to whisper in my ear.
