Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
MELODY
The next morning, I expect the torture and cruelty to begin, but it…doesn’t. Renee arrives to bring me breakfast.
“After today, you’ll eat in the restaurant with everyone else,” Renee tells me while I eat—eggs, bacon, fruit. I’ll give it to FOS: the food is top notch. “We call it The Skillet, but it’s essentially our cafeteria now. When you’re done eating, I’ll give you a full tour of everything.”
I eye her suspiciously but just nod and finish scarfing down my breakfast. I’m eager to get a good look at the place, look for weaknesses or potential escape routes should it ever come to that.
I dress in dark jeans and a tank, gritting my teeth when I realize that putting on my thigh holster or weapons belt would be useless since I have nothing to put in them.
I toss them back onto the bed and lace up my boots, muttering curses under my breath.
I couldn’t have weapons within The Cove technically, either, but I wasn’t surrounded by potential threats twenty-four-seven there.
Renee takes me on the promised tour and the more I see, the more confused I get.
Everyone seems…happy. Healthy. Whole. This doesn’t make any fucking sense.
This place is supposed to be abysmal, the inhabitants are supposed to be all but slaves.
Rumor said that disfigurement was often used as punishment—or just for entertainment, that women and men alike were used in unspeakable ways or forced to work themselves to the bone for their master and his goons.
But I see none of that. Sure, I’d been correct that the structure by the lake was indeed a whipping post, but The Cove has one too.
That particular punishment had strangely come back in style with the end of civilization, so I can’t really be surprised by its presence.
Other than that, there are no outright signs of abuse or misconduct.
People smile and wave, kids run around and play, they laugh for fuck’s sake.
Couples kiss and hold hands. A younger guy struggles to keep a wheelbarrow upright and Holloway, the man from the team that brought me here, rushes over to help steady it for him, even flashing the guy a smile.
I rub my temples, trying to make sense of it all.
“Everyone has an assigned job,” Renee says, gesturing to the sprawling gardens and additional greenhouses that I hadn’t noticed before as we walk by the lake.
“Some are in charge of harvesting or scavenging or hunting; others are on security, manning the outposts and doing patrols and runs; cooking, cleaning, plumbing, maintenance, teaching—everyone contributes and keeps this place running.”
I finally can’t take it anymore. I turn to Renee, holding up my hands.
“Ok, ok, just stop. I don’t understand.”
“About the jobs?” she asks, though there’s understanding in her hazel eyes.
“None of this makes sense. This place is supposed to be a living hell, but it looks to be the opposite.”
Renee gives me an innocent smile and hikes a shoulder.
Is she not supposed to give me any straight answers or something?
Maybe everyone is brainwashed or driven by fear to act the part of gleeful citizen to keep Traeger happy.
It’s like a cult or something. I eye her but decide to let it go for now.
I’ll find out what’s really going on sooner or later. I’ll find the skeletons.
Renee continues the tour, introducing me to people along the way.
When it’s time for lunch, I find myself seated at the end of a long row of tables with Renee and a handful of other FOSers in the restaurant, The Skillet she’d called it.
I stay alert, ever skeptical, and though I’m not rude, I’m tight-lipped when they speak to me until they mostly give up on including me in the conversation.
A guard has been trailing us all day, and another stands just across the room.
Keeping an eye on me? Making sure I don’t lose my mind and attack someone or try to escape?
I can’t totally blame them for that, I guess.
If I was in charge and the situation was reversed, I’d definitely have eyes and guns on any new potential threats for a while, just to be safe.
After lunch, Renee says, “Now, I understand that you might eventually be shifted to hunting or security—or both. A lot of people have multiple roles—but for now, you’ll be on harvesting duty.”
“Um, alright then,” I reply, a little uncertainly.
I’d rather be outside than cooped up in the kitchen or doing laundry, so I’m fine with it, but again, I didn’t really expect to just…
be a part of the community. If I’m not going to be locked in a stockade or starved in a cell, shouldn’t I at least have the terrible jobs that no one else wants, the ones that are a grueling or disgusting, as part of my torture?
The rest of the afternoon is spent in one of the gardens collecting tomatoes.
A short man with gray hair and kind eyes tells me how to tell if they’re ready to be pulled or not, and gives me a wide smile when I select the right ones while he watches.
A guard watches my every move as I work, but soon, I find my mind relaxing as I focus on the task at hand.
The other people working nearby smile and chat as they fill their baskets, and though I don’t respond much, it doesn’t seem to bother them, they keep up the chatter all the same.
I’m tired and filthy by the time dinner rolls around, and I practically inhale the stew.
Renee laughs a bit and I give her a tentative smile in return.
The guard that she’d made eyes at last night comes over, grinning and holding out two cookies.
Renee smiles widely, cheeks turning a bit pink, and takes the cookies, nodding in thanks.
The guard doesn’t say a word, but winks before turning to walk away, taking a big bite of his own treat.
Renee hands one cookie to me across the table and I take it gratefully.
She taps her cookie to mine in cheers and I can’t help but laugh.
After dinner, she escorts me back to my room.
“So, how long are you on babysitting duty?” I ask
Renee’s lips quirk. “Just until you get settled in.”
So, until Traeger decides that I’m not a flight risk or threat. Got it. I nod and tell her goodnight, but when I turn the knob of my door Renee reaches out to stop me.
“I know you didn’t come here willingly, but…you can be happy here, I promise. It’s not what you think. I’m…well, I’m supposed to let you come to terms on your own,” she says with a little roll of her eyes and my lips twitch at her mocking tone, “but just…trust me.”
I study her for a long minute.
“Were you out there?” I just my chin in the direction that clearly means on the road, amid the Bloodies. “Before you came here?” Something dark flashes in her eyes and she unconsciously runs a finger over the end of her scar.
“Yes, I was.” She holds my gaze as she says, “And I’m thankful every single day that Traeger found me.
” The vehemence in her tone makes me blink.
She’s absolutely genuine. I wonder how she and Traeger had crossed paths.
Had he actually saved her? She seems to have a bit of hero worship going on for the man…
so, does she just not care what he does then?
The pain he causes? Or is there far more to all of this than I can possibly know?
Someone exits the stairwell then, drawing me out of that wormhole, and my brows rise as a stunning redhead waltzes down the hallway in an obscenely short skirt and tight, glittering crop-top.
Her eye shadow is bright blue, her lips bright pink, and she’d gone a little heavy on the blush for my tastes.
“Hey Renee,” she says with a thick Boston accent. She shifts her gaze to me. “And we haven’t had the pleasure, though I’ve heard plenty. I’m Destiny.” Of course you are, I think, and then chide myself for assuming she’s a bimbo or a bitch or a combination of both.
“Mel.”
“Nice to meet you. The gossip train is running wild about you right now. Did you really try to stab Traeger?”
“That’s what everyone’s saying?” I ask, incredulous.
Destiny laughs. “I didn’t think it was true, but you just never know with the folks brought in from the outside.
” She says it like FOS is some posh country club and everyone outside are street urchins.
“Well, I’ve got…things to do," she says with a sly wink. Oh God, is she the screamer from last night? No, that must have been someone else–I hadn’t detected an accent in all of those throaty moans and overly dramatic pleas.
I barely stop myself from rolling my eyes. So, this is a new playmate. Then I remember Tricia’s comment: Wednesdays are mine. Fuck, does he really have a different woman for each day of the week? I thought she’d been kidding. Jesus.
Destiny waves and makes her way to Traeger’s door, teetering on six-inch heels. She pats the guard there on the chest. She has a very…regal air about her, as if she thinks she’s the queen bee since she’s fucking the self-appointed king.
Renee rolls her eyes and whispers, “She thinks just because she sleeps with Traeger, that makes her special. Poor thing doesn’t seem to understand that that list is a mile long and far from distinguished.” I snort at that and Renee grins.
“So, he’s quite the man-whore, huh? We’d heard rumors that he kept a harem here, that he…forced women to sleep with him in exchange for protection.”
Renee waves that away. “He has no lack of volunteers to be in his bed, that’s for sure.
I mean, have you seen the man? But it isn’t forced or some kind of payment for protection or anything like that.
Anyone who goes in that room does so willingly and understands that it’s all…
fun. No strings attached as they used to say. ”