Chapter 12 #3
“So, you’ve never hit this one before?” I ask from the backseat of the Jeep.
I’m excited to be out of FOS, but the looks Jett has been giving me the past two nights on the road as we’d bunked down has a bad feeling settling in my stomach.
The looks unmistakably said soon. He’s just waiting for a moment when Traeger and Wynn aren’t around, I know it.
I figure that I’m on solid enough footing with Traeger after all these months that if I do retaliate against an attack by Jett or his little lackeys, he won’t take any anger out on Jonah.
But to be honest, I don’t think he would mind if I fought Jett.
I’ve gotten the distinct feeling that he doesn’t care for his second in command all that much now that Jett’s true colors have come out and rumors are swirling.
I wonder why he hasn’t done anything about it himself yet, but I’m trusting in the fact that he’s a good man and is just coming up with a plan before acting.
“Nope,” Traeger says. “Johnson took a small team and went through all of this area about a year ago, noting all of the small towns along the way that might be good to check for supplies as needs arose. We’ve been checking them out as necessary since then, but we’ve never been here before.”
“Wouldn’t it make sense for me to have a weapon then, since we don’t know what we’re walking into? A lot could have changed in the year since Johnson’s team swept through.”
“We’ll have you covered, don’t worry.”
I roll my eyes and make a jerking off motion with my hand behind Traeger’s back.
Very mature, I know. Wynn catches it in the rearview and snorts, trying to cover it quickly with a cough.
Traeger shifts in his seat to look between the two of us, brow quirked.
I give him a doe-eyed look of innocence and Wynn laughs again, not bothering to hide it.
Traeger’s lips quirk and I find my own doing the same.
Things are…I don’t even know between us.
Different, but not changed drastically. He didn’t jump in my sleeping bag with me or anything these last two nights on the road, but he’s made a point to brush my arm or put a hand on the small of my back when he’s passing me.
Little touches that feel stolen and somehow important.
I don’t mind that they’re hidden and understated.
I don’t think of it as something that we’re keeping hidden, but more like it’s something just for us.
It’s no one else’s business what we’re doing or not doing.
We’ll figure it out when we’re back from this run, but for now, I look forward to the stolen moments.
Wynn meets my gaze in the mirror.
“Wanna play?”
I look at Traeger, debating if I want to allow him into this part of my life. I decide that I…do. Fuck me, I might be in trouble here.
I shrug, going for nonchalance though I’m actually a little nervous. I don’t open up to many people, and even these banal, stupid things are still things about me, the real me, and my past. But, I’ve decided that I’m going to try to let the walls keep coming down, so here we go.
“Sure.”
“And what exactly are we playing?” Traeger asks.
“It’s a game we started when we were on patrol shifts together,” Wynn says.
“What We Miss about the BB—Before Bloody—world,” I explain.
“It can’t be anything obvious like ‘I miss not having zombies trying to eat me,’ or anything like that—and it can’t be people, either.
It has to be just random things that you miss from the old world, things you never thought much about at the time, but now you’d give your left nut—metaphorical or otherwise—to have or see or experience again. Mundane, stupid shit.”
“I’ll go first,” Wynn offers. “Onion rings. God, I loved some good beer-battered onion rings.”
“Good one,” I say. “I’ll go with popcorn.
The good kind from the big popper thing at the movie theater with all the melted butter on top.
” My mouth waters at the thought. Mitch and I used to go to this theater down the road from our first apartment that showed old movies every Thursday night.
Tickets were five bucks and we’d mostly go just so we could gorge ourselves on popcorn and candy.
My chest twists a little at the memory, one of those beautiful, bittersweet memories that make me so happy and so heartbroken all at once, even after all this time.
Traeger laughs lightly.
“Are they always food-related?”
“Usually,” Wynn and I say at the same time, both laughing immediately after as we try to out-jinx each other. He wins, but I don’t abide by the rules and keep talking anyway.
“Well? You’re up,” I say, eyeing Traeger, honestly curious what he might say.
He rubs his hand over his jaw as he thinks about the question.
“Superbowl commercials.” I huff out a surprised laugh, and Traeger’s lips curl. “Food wise, definitely the pulled pork from this little mom-and-pop place down the road from our house. Absolute best in the entire world.”
“I love me some pulled pork,” Wynn says with a wistful sigh.
“Concerts,” I add after a few minutes. “I loved going to concerts.”
“Shoe shopping,” Wynn says, taking his turn. “I had a huge shoe collection, it was kind of my thing.”
I look to Traeger, encouraging him to keep going.
“Days on the lake. Loading up the boat and being out on the water all day long. There were these little islands spread all throughout Lake Orion with little beaches. We’d anchor the boat and spend the afternoon lounging on the island, listening to music and tossing a football around.
” It reminds me of days that we used to have too, me and Mitch and Jonah and Sean, when we’d go to the lake house.
It made me wonder how else our lives might have been similar.
Would we have been friends if we’d met BB?
We play the game for a bit longer until we finally pull off the highway onto a small, two-lane road with not much of anything for miles and miles. Eventually, a little town emerges.
“Alright, game time is over,” Traeger says. “Be alert.”
Wynn nods, and we all transition easily into survival mode.
Heads on swivels, ready for anything. We drove slowly, winding around abandoned cars.
The town is tiny, even smaller than that last one I’d hit with Jonah and the Coveys before everything went to hell.
It looks like everything had come to a grinding halt as soon as the Bloodies made their appearance in the world here.
Thick layers of dirt and dust cover the storefronts and cars, and vines had grown over most of the buildings and benches. It looks entirely abandoned.
“Ghost town,” Wynn mutters, voicing my unspoken thought.
We drive around the square that makes up the main part of the town several times to be sure there aren’t any traps or anyone waiting to ambush us.
With no signs of life, we decide it’s safe enough to start exploring on foot.
We park the vehicles at the end of one street leading out of the main square, towards what looks like some farmland maybe, and prepare for the first step of any run: Bloody clean up.
We’d seen several wandering around and they’re edging their way towards our group, drawn by the noise.
They’re slow moving, so they probably haven’t fed in a while.
I hate being out in this with no weapons, but I have to trust Wynn and Traeger to keep me covered, as they’d promised.
I know if I cooperate with his little probation period, Traeger will give me full privileges eventually.
It grates on my nerves, but I understand his reasoning and I’ve even done the same thing to newcomers at The Cove.
They had to pass tests and get my approval before they were allowed on security detail or to touch a weapon of any kind.
So, I get it, and I’ll do my time, but it doesn’t mean that I like being a sitting duck.
The two other groups with us parked on other streets and we’ll all meet in the middle of town square after we all clear our respective areas.
Traeger talks into his walkie. “Holloway, whatcha got?”
“Three in the street so far.”
“Mendoza?”
“Eight on this end. A handful more trapped inside this coffee shop.”
“Alright. Be fast and quiet.”
He clips the walkie to his belt and checks his pistol, silencer attached, as Wynn grips a machete in his left hand.
It’s always better to try blades before bullets if possible, but Wynn and Traeger both have semi-automatic rifles strapped to their backs too, just in case.
I ease out of the Jeep behind them and tug my backpack on my shoulders.
Traeger eyes it and I give him a challenging look.
“Where I go, the bag goes,” I say. It’s my only absolute rule. “I’ve already told you this and if you want to argue about it, I will, but it will not be quiet and it will not be easy.”
He holds up a hand in surrender. “I didn’t say a thing,” he says defensively, though his lips quirk up on one side. “Just want to make sure you can maneuver with that thing.”
“I’m good.” I’d spent months training with my pack, getting used to moving with the weight of it and accounting for the additional bulk when fighting.
It might as well be a part of my body at this point.
Traeger cuts his eyes to Wynn who hikes a shoulder.
No one but Jonah knows how truly important having the pack with me at all times is, but everyone else just goes with it and assumes I like to be extra prepared to be on the run if it comes to that.
One of the worst things you can do in the apocalypse is be caught on the run with no supplies.
Trager nods to both of us. “Alright, let’s get this done.”