The Valley: A Lee Harden Novel, page 8
It wasn’t very obvious with the bandanna over her face, but Bran knew Kat well enough to see that her jaws were clenching hard. Clenching and unclenching. Like she was gnawing on her own hatred.
Finally, she spoke: “No.”
And Bran knew that wasn’t quite true. There was a very good reason she couldn’t have protected those two head of cattle last night. Because the gorge was damn near five miles away from where she’d been watching over the rest of the herd. If those two got taken down by the gorge, it was because they’d wandered off from the others, not because Kat hadn’t done her job.
But Kat knew as well as Bran not to argue with Colin. Colin would tolerate a little bit from Bran. But he didn’t tolerate shit from Kat. Hell, she still wasn’t even looking at him, because they all knew he’d lose his shit if she did.
“No,” Colin echoed, then punched the table. Didn’t even punch it hard. Almost like he just let his fist fall on it. But it still sounded like he’d dropped an anvil on the desk. “Well, if you haven’t done your fucking job, then why should I pay you?”
She looked up sharply, and Bran’s stomach dropped even further. She was looking square at her dad now, all fire and defiance in her eyes, which was just the sort of thing that set Colin off. She knew it, and did it anyway.
Colin didn’t immediately react to it, though all the muscles in his arms suddenly stood out sharply. Tense through his entire body, like a dog getting ready to fight. “Why you lookin’ at me, girl? You got a problem with my rules? You thinking of doing something about it?”
Now Kat’s body matched her father’s: Tense and ready for battle. Fists not clenching, like a man thinking of throwing punches. But opening like claws, ready to tear at something.
Bran let out a dusty cough. “What about the Redoubt?”
Colin snapped to him and looked damn ready to hurl something from his desk at Bran’s face.
Bran raised a defensive hand. “Reason I ask, Boss, is that if you want something handled tonight…well, she can’t handle it and watch the herd at the same time.”
Colin’s eyes narrowed. “Two minutes ago, you were crying a river for the Redoubt and all its children.”
Bran felt like he’d betrayed himself somehow. But what was he going to do? He didn’t want to keep on with this Dark Mode bullshit. But he also didn’t want to watch Colin beat his daughter. Again.
“Well,” Bran huffed. “Sounded like you made up your mind about it is all. Haven’t you?”
Colin straightened. Loosened up. Shrugged the tension out of his shoulders and neck. Gave Kat one more castigating glare, and then took a deep breath. “Yeah, my mind’s made up.” He thrust a hand at Kat without looking at her. “Take…her. And get it done.”
Bran couldn’t tell if he was relieved or disappointed. Bit of both, he supposed.
Colin looked at his daughter again, who had retracted her gaze to the floor once more. “Don’t think you’re sleeping in my house for the next week. You learn to do your fucking job and appreciate the life I provide for you, then you can come back under my roof. And I think that’ll take at least a week. Whether or not you need more time to come to your senses is up to you. You understand?”
Still looking murderous, but at least directing it at the floor, Kat nodded. “Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
Fingers tensing into claws again.
“Yes, sir.”
Chapter 8
“You know,” Lee said, standing in the doorway of Bea’s Conex box and looking at all the others, now shuttered up tight, and nary a person to be seen outside in the ochre sunset. “I got enough food for everybody. But it doesn’t seem like they’re all that interested.”
“They’re not,” Bea stated brusquely from beside him. He turned and noticed her standing close enough to him that he got the picture: she wanted him to move so she could close the door.
He shuffled to the side and she quickly swung the door closed. She lowered a large iron bar into place, creating a crossbeam that settled securely into a cradle welded to the hinge side of the door. Nothing short of a bulldozer—or an angle grinder and a lot of time—was getting through that door.
Bea brushed past Lee without looking him in the face. Perhaps because she found the empty eye socket disconcerting. But Lee thought it more likely that she was just pissed at having her home invaded.
She bustled about, trying desperately to find things to do, such as kicking some pebbles into a corner and aggressively swiping a thin layer of dust from a rickety wooden table that wobbled threateningly as she did it.
Lee tracked her movements around the interior of her home, taking it in as he did. Yup. It was a Conex box. Identical in dimension to Ted’s, and a rather commonplace way to make a secure structure on the cheap. Lee had been in his fair share of them over the years.
Bea’s home was lit by two solar lanterns that looked like they’d been a part of someone’s pre-collapse landscaping. There was little else to make note of: The wooden table in the center, an additional folding table that looked like it served as kitchen counter and general catch-all. Two folding chairs. A queen-sized mattress in the back.
Frowning, Lee looked the room over again for more detail. On the ledge of a shelf posted to the wall, he spotted what looked like a man’s jacket. On the floor near the bed, pushed up against the wall, but otherwise looking almost like they had been carefully preserved, a pair of boots far too large for Bea.
“Whoop,” Jones said, from where he was crouching over his gear in a nearby corner. “That was it.”
Lee glanced at him. “What?”
“That was my daily limit of uncomfortable silence. Now I’ve gotta talk.” He glanced up to the big vacuum-sealed bag in Lee’s hand. A look of ecstasy came over his face. “Oh, God. Please tell me…”
Lee hefted the package and put on his most charming smile—which was not all that charming, he had to admit, but there just weren’t a lot of angles he could turn his head where a nasty scar didn’t ruin his once-upon-a-time decent looks. “Bea, our gracious hostess?”
Bea was not in the mood for levity and only looked at him with irritation.
Making peace with his new roommate was going to be harder than he thought.
Still, he pressed on. “When’s the last time you had chicken-mac-and-cheese?”
A look of genuine shock came over her face and Lee felt his hopes rise…and then were dashed when she wiped the expression away like an annoying drip of sweat and replaced it with stony disregard.
“I’m lactose intolerant,” she said.
“Oh, well, that’s good, because it’s not actually cheese.” Lee took the package over towards where Marie was hooking up their little portable stove. “Don’t ask me what it is, because I can’t tell you anything about it. Except that it’s wildly delicious. I am, however, fairly certain that the chicken is actual chicken.”
The vacuum sealed bag was clear, and Lee could see the pieces of pasta, and the freeze-dried chunks of chicken, all coated in a yellowish powder that would make any health nut of yesteryear recoil like a vampire from a crucifix. Nowadays, other health concerns took priority. Like starvation. Or being murdered.
There was enough in the package to create quite a feast. It was one of Lee’s go-to moves for introducing himself to a new settlement. After all, when you’ve been living on beans and rainwater, who doesn’t love the guy that shows up with a big pot of every childhood’s most beloved food?
That would not be the case today, apparently. The Redoubt was still fairly hesitant with Lee and his team. None of them had interacted with any of Lee’s team except for Bea and Ted.
Bea sauntered over, still trying to look disinterested. Lee handed the package to Marie. The first time Lee had met Marie, she’d been cooking for people. That had been over six years ago. She’d never stopped. If she had the means, the time, and the ingredients, she was making food for people.
Lee had offered to take over—not that he was a great cook, but, hell, it doesn’t take much to add water to a freeze-dried meal and heat it up. Marie always declined, and Lee had eventually realized that this was her way of making peace with the world. In a reality so filled with conflict and violence, opportunities to do a kindness for others were few and far between. This was Marie’s way of feeling like her contribution to the Universe wasn’t just shooting people.
Bea stood to the side of Marie as she finished hooking up her portable stove. Bea crossed her arms over her chest and gave Lee the look of a person who thinks things are just a little too good to be true.
“So,” she said. “You have guns, you have ammo, and you even have freeze-dried foods.”
Lee nodded. “I try to keep us well-supplied.”
“Oh?” All sorts of suspicion radiating from her. “Doesn’t freeze-drying foods require pretty heavy-duty equipment?”
“Does it?” He knew that it did.
“It does.”
“Huh. Interesting.”
“And all that ammunition you claim to have. Doesn’t that require a lot of equipment to make?”
“Oh, yes. All kinds of equipment.”
Bea blinked rapidly at him, like she thought he was being dense.
Finally, she had out with it. “Where’s all this stuff come from, Jax?”
“Let’s call them friends in high places,” Lee answered.
“What’s that even supposed to mean? What kind of high places are you talking about?”
“Sweetheart,” Marie put in, not looking up as she deftly knifed open the package and began pouring a portion into her cookpot. “Usually when someone says ‘friends in high places,’ it’s a polite way of saying ‘ask me no questions and I’ll tell you no lies.’” Marie looked up and gave Bea a smile that was most of the way to being nice. “Now hand me that jug of water right there by your feet, would you?”
Bea looked like she might just up and refuse, and Lee was about to grab the water for Marie, but Bea hooked the jug with her foot and slid it over to Marie’s waiting hand. A somewhat surly way to comply with the request, one could argue.
“So that’s it?” Bea said, eyeing both of them now. “If I ask questions, I’ll just get lies and half answers?”
Marie just shrugged. “I guess that depends on the questions. When they have to do with who is backing us, yeah, you’ll get lies. Not because we’re dishonest people, but because we gave someone our word that we wouldn’t tell the truth. But you’re welcome to ask other questions. Such as, ‘Marie, what’s it like to be crammed into a truck with these four cocks day in and day out?’”
Lee snickered. Boy, did Marie have a way with people.
Bea tried to stay hard, but her expression softened. Not by much, but Lee was watching for it, and saw it. Marie had touched on a little point of connection between them.
“And what would be your answer to that?” Bea asked.
“Meh.” Marie shrugged and stirred the water in with the freeze-dried mix. “They stink. They’re loud. They’re crass. And Jones never stops talking. But I love ‘em anyway.”
Lee squinted at the ceiling. “I feel like all of that was just about Jones.”
Marie leaned back and consider this. “No. You definitely stink.”
“Well, I mean, besides that one.”
“You’re no rose yourself after three days on the road,” Abe quipped from where he had seated himself and his gear against one of the walls, legs sprawled out in front of him.
Marie gave him a look over her shoulder. “I can always roll my bed out somewhere else, if you’d prefer, Hon.”
Abe raked his fingers through his beard, watching her with a faint twinkle in his eyes. “I didn’t say I minded.”
As Marie smirked at Abe and returned to her meal prep, Lee cast a look over to Sam, who’d stayed uncharacteristically quiet this whole time. He was seated directly across from Abe, his pack and his doffed armor creating a sort of throne in which he was ensconced.
Lee found himself a smidge disappointed that Sam wasn’t really putting any effort into getting to know Bea. Not that she was really flinging the doors open for any of them, but still. Had he read the situation wrong? That’d be a shame, Lee realized. He wanted the kid to have something beautiful. But maybe it just wasn’t in the cards.
Jones sauntered over to Lee and stood, looking expectant.
Lee frowned at him, not knowing what he wanted.
Jones frowned back. “Isn’t this where we’re staying?”
“Seems that way,” Lee said with a glance in Bea’s direction.
Jones peddled his hand slowly through the air. “Then aren’t we missing something?”
Lee snapped his finger. “Oh, right.” He couldn’t believe he’d forgot. He dove into the pants pocket of his jeans. Fingers touched the little lump of plastic. He drew it out.
Bea had grown curious and was leaning over the table.
“There he is,” Jones said, satisfied.
Grasped in Lee’s fingers was a plastic figurine of a German Shepherd dog, standing with head up and ears pricked. Alert. Like it was looking for threats. Lee smiled at the figurine, but there was some melancholy in it. He ran a thumb over the faded paint, then brought it to his lips and kissed it like a good luck charm. Which it was.
He handed it to Jones, who repeated the ritual, adding a “Good boy,” at the end, as though it were a real dog. Then he tossed it to Abe. It was customary that everyone kissed the figurine for good luck.
Bea looked highly confused. “What is that? A toy dog?”
Jones gave her a hooded look and turned away.
Lee, trying to be more diplomatic, gave her a wan smile. “That’s Deuce. Deuce was our dog. Team dog. Great animal.”
“He was a very good boy,” Abe said, kissing the figurine then tossing it to Sam.
Lee nodded. “He could smell primals coming from a mile away. Invaluable.”
Bea nodded, realization coming to her face with a modicum of sadness. “I’m sorry.”
Lee shook his head. “Oh, he’s not dead.” He heaved a sigh, missing his canine companion. “He just got old. Started getting hip dysplasia—it’s common in the breed. He couldn’t keep up with our operations anymore. We left him with a very nice family in a settlement we helped, about a year back.”
Marie received the Deuce figurine, dutifully kissed it, then handed it back to Lee.
Lee inspected it lovingly for a moment, then set it on the table in front of him. “Family had a daughter. This was one of her favorite toys—which is why she took to Deuce so much when we showed up. Deuce was never keen on strangers, but man, he loved that little girl.” Damn, but Lee was gonna get misty if he kept going. He cleared his throat. “Anyway. When we left Deuce with them, she gave us her toy. Now it’s our lucky charm.”
Bea took a moment to eye them all, ending on Lee. “So, how long have y’all been doing…” she waved a hand about as though conjuring something. “…whatever it is you do?”
Lee gave a small shrug at that. “Kind of depends. We’ve been together for sixish years. Been working as a team for a good part of that. But as far as just the five of us, doing what we do? Three years.”
“And as far as what it is you do,” she said, cocking an eyebrow at Lee. “Are you gonna stick with the whole ‘identify problems and solve them’ line?”
“I am. Because it’s the truth.”
“Well, you do seem to have the equipment for it. Which you get from your friends in high places, right?”
“Precisely.”
“High places in the US government?”
Lee scoffed. “The US government has only just managed to consolidate itself and build a sturdy base. I don’t reckon they have any high places just yet.”
“So, you don’t work for the US government?”
Lee made a noncommittal noise, neither confirming nor denying.
“I feel like you’re being intentionally obtuse.”
Lee shrugged. “The cost of keeping secrets is that, to the uninformed, you might often come across as obtuse. But I’ll throw you a bone, Bea, because you’re kind enough to welcome us into your home. I work for an anonymous benefactor that has a vested interest in stabilizing those areas of the country that are too out of the way to receive aid from the Interim Government.”
“Sounds like charity.”
Lee smiled. “It’s not.”
A smugly savvy expression shaded Bea’s face. “So, there is a cost.”
Lee’s smile faded. “There’s always a cost to what we do, ma’am. Sometimes our benefactor pays that cost. Sometimes the settlement we’re helping. Sometimes we pay it. But it’s never free.” He took a deep breath. “But if you’re worried about us suddenly demanding your settlement’s valuables, don’t be. Like I already said, all we want from you is a place to sleep, and your cooperation.” He squinted at her. “As begrudging as it may be.”
Chapter 9
Thirty minutes later, Bea sat at her own table, surrounded by strangers, as the woman named Marie spooned out generous portions of steaming chicken mac and cheese. Her new house guests brought their own mess kits—high-sided metal plates that were deep enough to function as shallow bowls.
As for Bea, she’d taken one of the two plastic plates that she owned. The other had belonged to James. She left his where it was—where it always stayed. It was never her intention to memorialize something so silly as the plate he ate from. But she’d spent so many years cleaning her own plate immediately after using it, that she never had to use his. She only kept his around just in case hers broke one day.
And she’d only kept his boots because someone might need them. Though, Will from two boxes down wore the same size, and had been complaining about the soles of his own boots wearing out, and she hadn’t offered them up yet.
