Page 9 of Protected

Down Pete goes again, moaning and crying as he collapses.

It’s hard to watch what follows. It’s hardly a fight. Deck has complete control of the situation, and he’s showing Pete no mercy.

He’s making no sound. He doesn’t even appear particularly angry. Just fierce. Primal.

“Deck!” The one word sounds clear and sharp from the direction of the furniture store.

What happens next is also astonishing.

Breathtaking.

Deck stops mid-punch. Then he steps back, shaking out his hands at his sides like someone might do to restore feeling into them.

I’ve seen men do all kinds of things since Impact that would have been unbelievable to the person I was before. Men who might have appeared and acted basically decent in the old world of social and legal restraints on behavior have turned into near animals now that nothing is holding them back from taking what they want.

In the ugly reality remaining, never would I have believed a man in Deck’s fierce state was capable of controlling himself so instantly. So completely.

Deck turns toward Logan with a scowl and gestures toward me.

“I can see what he was trying to do,” Logan says crisply, approaching with his smooth, efficient stride. He’s replying as if Deck spoke aloud. “I know he deserves it. But he’s one of us.” He pauses, holding Deck’s eyes. “You don’t carry that. I do.”

More of the group have come outside to see what’s happening. It must be close to dawn anyway. There’s a faint light at the horizon in the distance.

Without another word, Logan reaches down and lifts Pete to his feet, forcing him to stumble back behind the van where I peed earlier.

In only a few seconds, a loud gunshot sounds through the crumbling shopping center and night air.

Logan returns from behind the van alone. He glances around at the men who’ve gathered. “We don’t do that.Ever. We’re humans. Not animals.” He meets my eyes and speaks in a lower voice. “It won’t happen again.”

I nod to show I understand. I’m completely incapable of speaking. I’ve started to shake. Too much has happened in only a few minutes of time. The queasiness that has been bothering me on and off for hours now returns with full force.

Logan has a light spatter of blood on his face. He wipes it off with the back of his forearm as he turns and walks into the building.

The others follow him. All of them except Deck.

I try to make myself move but can’t. After a minute. I collapse like a dropped marionette and vomit onto the broken pavement.

Deck stands there, watching.

After I finish, I sit for a minute and breathe deeply to compose myself. Then I get up, pulling down my long T-shirt to make sure it covers my butt.

My leggings are hopelessly ripped.

Deck doesn’t speak and doesn’t gesture. He just waits until I start walking and follows me back inside.

We start off an hour later just as the sun is edging above the horizon.

The morning goes a lot like the previous afternoon. I’m in the back of the truck with Deck, Burgundy, and Micah, and we stop a couple of times when we see an abandoned home or building to search.

Right around noon, we halt for a light lunch of tuna on a weird kind of brown bread.

When the group scatters after eating, I look to Burgundy for an explanation. “We always get an hour or so to rest after lunch unless we’re on guard duty. I’m on guard today. Logan doesn’t ask the women to take the guard positions at night. He’s never said why, but I assume it’s so no one is tempted to do what Pete tried to do last night. He has us take the lunchtime shifts. I’m sure he’ll assign you similarly once you get used to things. I better get going.”

“Oh. Okay.” I watch her walk to her position at the perimeter of our camp. Then I look around to see what I should do now.

Everyone is minding their own business except Deck, who is predictably minding mine. He’s standing nearby. Obviously waiting to see what I’ll do.

I give him a shrug.

---