Chapter 13 #2
There’s no reason to refuse. I shove as much of my hair underneath the cap as I can before picking up a clump of dirt and rubbing it against my skin. “I’ve never heard of East Jersey before.”
Maverick is still staring accusingly at the trees over my shoulder.
“You would know it as Rahway, I believe. More dirt, you’re still too clean.”
I smear another handful of dirt along the edge of my jaw and my cheek. “You mean, like the prison?”
He freezes, then turns his head slowly to look over his shoulder at me. “What makes you say that?”
“I don’t know. I just remember that about Rahway. There used to be a prison there, right?”
“Oh, yeah. Used to be.”
“You’ve heard of it?”
Maverick nods, glancing back at the trees before facing me again. “That’s where the name comes from: East Jersey State Prison. All the cons got out when the warden Turned… I say all, the ones who survived got out and escaped. Most of them established their own place here. Made it a prison town.”
What the hell is a prison town?
And why are we standing here talking about it instead of bolting in the opposite direction?
There’s an easy answer to that last question. Before I can run, the high-pitched whistle sounds again. It’s impossibly closer.
Maverick scoops up a handful of dirt and starts on my other side. “Hear that? That’s their leader. Darryl. He knows we’re here.”
“How do you know all this?” And why didn’t he warn me before?
“Because I might’ve passed this way before in my travels.
I’m so fucking sorry,” he says again. “If I had any idea we were so close… shit. One of your curls is escaping. You’ve got to tuck it all under the cap.
Keep your head down, and this part is real important: don’t say a word. Leave all the talking to me. Got it?”
“I don’t think we’re in Rahway,” I point out, yanking down the back of the cap and shoving the rest of my hair up inside of it.
His insistence isn’t helping my sudden anxiety at all.
“It shouldn’t have taken so long to go… what, six miles from the Grave?
And where’s the dome? Rahway Prison had a big dome.
Jack used to point it out when we passed it on Route 1. ”
Maverick looks at me in disbelief, almost like he can’t believe we’re having this conversation. I don’t know why he’s looking at me like that. He’s the one who’s standing here, having a chat instead of fleeing.
“We’re not in Rahway, kid,” he says gruffly, going slowly as if he’s speaking to a five-year-old.
“This,” and he points at the ground, “is where the people who used to live in Rahway and the East Jersey Prison relocated to. Your Rahway is another town that doesn’t exist anymore.
Trust me when I say this…” Maverick leans in so close that I can smell campfire smoke on him, plus feel the chill from his skin.
He lowers his voice. “If you don’t do what I’ve just told you, you might not exist either. So, please, fucking do it!”
The image of his gun flashes before my eyes again, plus all of the horror stories I used to hear of cops who snapped. Nine months after the Turning, maybe it’s just Maverick’s time to shine.
I don’t have a choice. I have to listen.
And that’s when I hear a loud shout split through the trees—
“Maverick Brooks! Well, I’ll be damned! Never thought you’d come crawlin’ back to East Jersey. Good to see ya, boy.”
Because I’m staring down at the ground like he told me to, I can’t see the face of the man approaching, but if the size of his shadow is any indication, he’s a damn giant. My breath catches in my throat, my heart beating a mile a minute.
Okay. Maybe Maverick was right to freak out.
“Hey, Darryl. It’s good to see you, too.” He claps me on the shoulder. I’m not expecting it and my knees almost buckle. “This is my buddy. Alex.”
Alex?
Darryl has a laugh that reminds me of Santa Claus, all “ho ho ho” and holly jolly. I already call bullshit. “So you finally found some sucker to take you up on your fool’s errand? Good on ya, Brooks.”
“That’s right. We’re on our way to New York, just like we talked about last time I was in town. So while it was great to see you again, you’ll understand that we’ve got to be on our way.”
I hold my breath, hoping like hell that’ll work.
“What’s the rush?” asks Darryl, and my heart sinks. “You’re not gonna deny me the chance to show ya a little hospitality? Come on. Head into town with me.”
“I’ll go. Alex, you stay here. I won’t be gone long.”
Looking down, I see it when Darryl’s big, scuffed boot kicks at the dirt. “Bring ‘em with you.”
“I don’t think that’s necessary—”
“Yeah? Well, I do.”
At his side, Maverick flexes his fingers. “Darryl—”
“Formalities is formalities, Brooks. Rules is rules. I told you I’m offering my hospitality. If you want to make it through our territory, you’re gonna follow our rules. You understand me?”
I think I understand. Just like how there’s no refusing this guy, I get the idea that he’s not saying we have to go back the way we came in order to avoid passing through his territory without permission.
Oh, no. He’s not letting us off it in one piece, either.
And Maverick knows it.
“Yeah. I do.”
An oak tree lying on its side marks the outer boundary to East Jersey. It’s easy to tell because of the char marks on the other side of it, the piles upon piles of ashes that haven’t blown away since the last flaming. One thing’s for sure: this settlement can certainly take out its lurkers.
The moment we each climb over it, Darryl stops, his shadow changing course as he swings around to face me. I jump back, startled, but that doesn’t stop Darryl from grabbing Maverick’s cap right from my head. Disheveled blonde hair tumbles down and settles on my shoulders like a smoking gun.
I know I’m caught. From Maverick’s barely stifled groan, he knows it, too.
Okay. I’m a woman. No hiding it now, and since the truth is out, I look up at him defiantly.
That… might’ve been a mistake.
Darryl fits every image of an ex-con I’ve ever had.
He’s got at least a head on Maverick, and he’s about twice as wide as me.
His grey hair is long and unruly, flowing past his shoulders, ending in a tangle of knots.
He’s got tattoos covering every inch of skin I can see, except for his face, and I can only guess what the rest of his weathered skin holds; the only reason why his face is clear of the tattoos is because of his bushy, dingy beard.
Stuffed inside his clothes like a sausage, his belly jiggles with each heavy breath.
I’m pretty sure his overalls have been tailored out of an old prison jumpsuit.
Who else would own a pair that had EJSP imprinted on the leg?
My first impression of his laugh sounding like Santa Claus isn’t too far off, either. Take the Christmas icon, stuff him in a jail cell for a decade or two, and you’d end up with something like this Darryl.
“Alex?” There’s a twinkle in Darryl’s mud brown eyes.
I stick out my chin in a display of foolish disdain. “Xandra.”
Darryl raises his eyebrow. “Oh?”
Maverick grabs my arm and gives it a jerk, pulling me aside and taking my place in front of Darryl. “Alexandra,” he says, a compromise. “Sorry, Darryl. I was trying to keep her to myself. She’s mine.”
I start to sputter in response to that claim, but stop when Maverick’s grip on my arm tightens.
“She might’ve been, and I’m sorry for your loss, boy.
But if you didn’t think I could sniff a girlie out, you’re fooling both of us.
I was in the pen for thirty-three years.
One whiff’s all it takes and I knew exactly what your Alex was.
And I’m sure ya know what that means. Seein’ as how you agreed to come onto my territory. ”
“Yeah.” It’s an exhale, and an agreement, but it could’ve been a curse for how he says it. “I know that, too.”
I’m glad he does. I look over at Maverick, obviously confused. He might know what’s going on. I have no clue.
And no one tells me.