Her arms bound in front of her by rope, Eva drug her shoes on the ground behind her. She told the guards that she had injured her ankle, but that was a load of crap. Her reasoning was that if they were going to treat her like a prisoner and tie her up, then they might as well go the whole nine yards and carry her as well.
“Pick your feet up, bitch!” grumbled the guard to her left. He was big – fat, but strong. Thick arms, broad back. A nose like a boxer’s, probably busted a few times. His name was
Mitchell. Eva wasn’t sure if that was his first name or last. Used to be in the Marines but was dishonorably discharged, or so the story went. A screw-up, someone even the military was unable to reign in. But here, he was given a gun and put into a position of authority.
“You might not want to get on his bad side,” said Wes, to her right. He was more likeable. A decent looking guy, but by no means handsome. His disposition, however, was far more favorable than Mitchell’s.
“Too late,” groaned Eva.
Mitchell right hand gripped Eva by her left bicep. The meaty appendage fit around her entire upper arm. In his left hand he held her rifle. They had taken it from her at gun point. They did everything at gun point. But you couldn’t blame them; no one was to be trusted. At least that was Eva’s mantra.
“Grant’s not going to be happy,” said Wes. “Why do you do it? You can’t keep going off the grounds.”
“You wouldn’t understand,” replied Eva.
“Ah, a woman thing,” joked Wes.
“What-” blurted Mitchell, “you’ve got to run off the grounds to care for that cesspool between your legs?” He chuckled to himself.
“I didn’t mean it that way,” whispered Wes.
“I know,” Eva replied.
“And then we have to run after you,” continued Mitchell.
“I never see you run anywhere,” snipped Eva. She heard Wes stifle a laugh.
“You think you’re so damn smart, don’t you, girl. While you’re sitting in that cold little prison cell, think about where you are, locked behind bars, and how I’m out here on my post, free to do my job.”
Eva raised her eyebrows. “Now that’s something to aspire to.”
“At least I get respect.”
“Ever think that you’re placed on post for a reason, Mitch?”
“It’s Mitchell, slut. And what do you mean by that?”
“Let me spell it out for you: Grant thinks you’re an oaf. He puts you out there each night to give you a purpose…to keep you busy….”
Mitchell scowled. He seemed to be pondering her dig at his significance.
Eva hammered him some more. “It’s like you’re babysitting yourself,” she laughed.
Wes leaned toward her. “Might want to ease up a bit. And thanks for the insult, by the way. I’m placed on post, too.”
“Yeah well, you’re probably out there just to keep an eye on big boy, here.” she whispered.
Mitchell’s grip was like a tightening vice and Eva felt pain extending down her arm. “Quite a mouth on you, bitch. He trusts me enough to arm me, doesn’t he?” He leaned closer until his reeking breath consumed her. “Just remember that next time you feel like leaving.” The corners of chapped lips morphed into a sneer. “I’m a hell of a shot.”
Eva coughed and caught her breath as Mitchell pulled away. He was right. She was aware of his accuracy with a firearm. She had seen it. But then again, she wasn’t so bad herself. Still, the idea of being thrust into a gun fight with Mitchell was unnerving. Sure, he had been discharged, but he still had military training and that meant, even if limited, he possessed knowledge, particularly of weapons, that the rest of them did not.
After chaining Eva in the bed of the pickup, Wes rode shotgun as Mitchell drove the truck to the perimeter, where another armed guard, Isaac, was waiting. He waved them on and they passed through and onto the grounds of the old military airbase and came to the hub of Community – a circular group of silo bunkers, spaced two hundred feet apart. A hundred and fifty yards away, to the west, were the farms.
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They entered the first bunker on the left. After passing through decontamination in the airlock, they stepped past the inner door and descended the steps, which framed the cylindrical shaft in the center, to the first level. To the right, in the space other silos used as a family room, was the medical center. Across the circular expanse was an office and next to that, a bathroom.
As they entered the office, Wes untied Eva. Grant sat behind a mahogany desk, busy with a pen and paper. The room was dim, lit only by a small table lamp.
Grant was a tall, lean man with a pointy nose and thinning gray hair slicked to the side. At the end of his nose-beak sat thin, wire-framed glasses. He peered over the lenses at Eva when they entered the room. He stood from his chair and rounded the desk. In his hand was the paper he had been writing on.
“I was just trying to figure out the arrangements for another supply run,” he said with a smile. She sensed the gesture was complete bullshit. He was pissed. “Assessing who was competent to go and so forth.” He cocked his head as if in deep contemplation. “Now, however, your antics have given me pause.”
His lips parted and Eva waited for the next line in his lecture, but instead Mitchell interrupted.
“She’s becoming a problem,” he said.
At his statement Grant sighed and glared at Mitchell. He took the girl’s rifle from the guard and with an annoyed expression replied, “Thank you, Mitchell. That’ll be all.”
“Wes?” said Grant.
“Yes, sir?”
“Was she wearing a suit when you found her?”
“Yes. Full gear, helmet and everything.”
Eva sensed that Wes knew better than to speak without being spoken to. He nodded and turned toward the door. If Mitchell had had a tail, it would have been between his legs as he followed. Grant waited until they had closed the door behind them, then his eyes met Eva’s. The man’s icy blue orbs, almost gray, seemed incapable of any emotion but anger.
And maybe, like everyone else, despair, Eva thought.
“Do you know why I bother writing and posting these?” he asked, holding the schedule next to his face. Eva did not answer because Grant wasn’t expecting her to. “Because they inspire hope. They give people some sense of civilization…a sense of purpose…what it was like before.”
He walked to the far side of the office and methodically adjusted the candles. More theatrics. He propped her rifle against the wall. Eva looked straight ahead at the table behind the desk. There stood a stature of Jesus with his arms outstretched. Its shadow, projected onto the wall, wavered in the candlelight and Eva took this to be an omen; that perhaps even the Lord Himself was subject to the forces at work in this world.
It’s just a shadow, Eva, reacting to the light source in the room. That’s all.
“The people of Community need hope,” Grant continued. “They need to be reminded that it still exists. And they build hope by working, by being given duties, jobs to do. Everyone helps and chips in and in return, Community provides a safe, orderly way of life. All that is required to attain a place here is for each person to do their part, be it toiling in the fields or keeping watch, and to follow a simple set of rules. One of which is to remain inside of the fence line.” He turned and walked back over to Eva, infiltrating her field of view. Her eyes were forced to focus on his. “You were found outside of the perimeter. You left your fields…why?”
Countering Grant’s theatrics by employing some of her own, Eva paused…for effect. “I just thought I saw something out there,” she lied.
“Let me guess. A nomad?”
“Yes.”
“Not very original, Eva. The same story both times.” He stared at her for a moment. “And did you find one?”
Eva did not avert her eyes but stared right back at him. On the outside he was composed, but she was pretty sure that inside he was raging. Maintaining eye-contact was akin to dumping gasoline on a fire. Just how she liked it.
“No,” she said.
Grant held his gaze. “When you pull one of these little stunts, it weakens our defenses. We have to pull guards from other posts so that they can stop you before you reenter the perimeter and possibly contaminate everyone.”
“They’ll be left for dead?” quizzed Eva.
Without hesitation, or emotion, Grant stated, “Yes. Unless we can help them without sacrificing the lives of everyone in Community. By all rights, you should be placed into quarantine. You place our health in jeopardy when you leave the perimeter.”
“I was only trying to help.”
He turned and walked back behind his desk. “Then notify someone of anything unusual and it will be investigated – do not do so on your own. You’ve been with us for less than a month, Eva. This is the second time you’ve been outside the perimeter.”
“I didn’t realize this was a prison,” she said.
Grant cocked his head to the side, feigning compassion. “Now Eva…you know this is no prison. You are free to go at any time.” He slinked around the edge of the desk with serpentine movement, scooping up her rifle along the way. Eva half-expected him to begin hissing. His pursed lips curled into a wicked smile and he dropped his voice to a whisper.
“But we both know there’s a part of you that truly wants to be here…” He handed the rifle to her and backed away, returning to his chair.
Eva just stared ahead.
Looking down at his stack of papers, Grant said matter-of-factly, “Tonight, you will report to Walker House, as before. Tomorrow you will make rounds with the guards. In two days, you will be posted on night watch and if all goes well, you’ll return to the fields. You’ll be expected to give back to Community if you wish to remain here. Good evening”
Eva turned and left his office. As much as she hated to admit it, he was right. There was a small part of her – maybe even more than a small part – that wanted to stay. Yes, she might be able to become comfortable in a place like Community and maybe even grow to like it. But she was here strictly on business.
Eva pulled her rifle close to her chest and its weight both eased her mind and reminded her of her purpose. Don’t even think about it, Eva. You don’t belong here.