Page 50 of Homestead

“Was he…?” I haven’t spoken in so long that my voice doesn’t want to work. Plus it’s still raw from all that screaming. “Was he one of those guys from last night?”

“Yeah.”

“It sounded like he was… he was looking for me.”

“He saw you walkin’ back with me two different Saturday nights. I guess he figured out the general area where we live.”

“But why would he…? Why would he…?” I can’t even wrap my head around why he would go to so much trouble.

“’Cause he’s a fuckin’ asshole who thinks he can take anythin’ he wants. There were always people like that, but they got free rein after Impact. Why d’you think the gangs still control so much territory? There’s still too many assholes out there.”

“I guess.” I pause, my mind still whirling. “I thought they didn’t come over this way much.”

“They shouldn’t. They haven’t in a long time.” He lets out a long exhale, his breath blowing my hair. “Seem to be crossin’ over more lately. So far just a few strays, but a few strays is all it takes to make our area unsafe. Gonna have to do somethin’ about it.”

“What can we do?”

“Not sure yet. But gotta figure out somethin’.”

Our conversation trails off after that. He holds me for a long time until his stomach gives a loud growl.

It surprises me so much I giggle.

“Sorry ’bout that.”

“It’s way past lunch. I’ll fix you something.” I start to scoot toward the edge of the bed, but he doesn’t let me.

“Uh-uh. I’ll do lunch. What do you feel like?”

“I’m not hungry. But I really don’t mind making you something.”

“No way. You stay here and rest. I’ll grab somethin’ quick.”

“I shouldn’t stay in bed all?—”

“Yes, you should. Stop arguin’, girlie, and do what you’re told.”

I give a little huff, but I’m almost smiling as I roll back over to face the wall.

* * *

I spent most of the afternoon in bed, but I do manage to rouse myself before dinner. Despite Jimmy’s insistence that I’m allowed to take it easy all day, I’m in fit condition to make us omelets and toast and wash the dishes and clean up afterward.

My whole cheek is throbbing with pain, and I don’t look in the mirror for more than a few seconds at a time. It’s all bruised and swollen. He really hit me hard.

But if that’s the extent of my injury, I count myself lucky. It could have been so much worse.

Jimmy dragged the man’s body into the woods earlier and covered it with leaves and dead foliage. There’s nothing else we can do with it. We have no idea who the man’s people are, and we couldn’t trust them anyway.

We definitely don’t want any more of them to know where our cabin is, isolated out here in the woods.

I never gave much thought to the community of dangerous sorts who live on the border of The Wild, except for the occasional day when it’s Jimmy’s turn to walk the patrol. I knew they were there. They killed Grandpa. But they always felt a long way away—distant from this protected valley of farmland and hardworking, neighborly folk.

But they’re well within range to reach us. Just because they’ve gone years without paying any attention to us doesn’t mean they never will.

Jimmy told me once that they had a bunch of violent skirmishes early on, but they always ended up as stalemates. Everyone has kept to their own territories ever since. Despite our resources here, they don’t try to take what we have by force because they don’t want to do all the hard work it takes to sustain it. Farms are no good to folk unless they actually work them, and those gangs prefer to live off the dregs of the old world rather than build a new world for themselves.

The stalemate has felt safe to me, but maybe it’s not.

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