Page 2 of Worth the Ruin
“Be safe. Stay together. Make it home.”
Everyone cheers at our little motto and Jonah turns back to me, smiling as he starts up the truck. No one can bring people together like Jonah. As our caravan of merry thieves bumps slowly down the road, maneuvering around abandoned vehicles and debris, I stare out the window.
The small country town is what I’d call quaint. It probably only had a population of a few thousand back in the day. We drive through what appears to be the heart of town, passing a small church, a feed store, a mom-and-pop restaurant (all already scoured on this trip), and an empty playground with rusted swings rocking gently in the breeze. I try to imagine what life here might have been like. Slow, probably. Nice.
A couple of Bloodies lurch against the fence of a baseball field as we pass.Not so nice anymore, though.
“So, what books did you score?” Jonah asks. He knows that almost anywhere we go, I always manage to find a book or ten to bring back. I’d pretty much single handedly stocked The Cove’s small library. I figure what’s a better time to escape reality than after the end of the world, right?
I smile and dig through my pack.
“Let’s see, we’ve got a Spanish-English dictionary.”
“You already speak Spanish,” Jonah points out.
“Verdadero.” I shrug and set the book aside. “A romance novel. Ooo, the good kind! Check it—shirtless guy on the front!” I wave the book in the air, showing off the cover. “This one is mine. You can have it when I’m done.” He chuckles at that, but I know he actually gets a kick out of reading them too.“Annnnd anAlex Cross. Fourth one I think, maybe fifth. I can’t remember.”
“Oh dibs!”
“All yours. I’ve read them all anyway.”
“Of course you have,” he says, rolling his eyes. Anytime I’m not on a supply run or taking out Bloodies, chances are I’m reading. “Wonder if Patterson is still out there somewhere.”
“Who knows. Maybe he’s written a hundred more books on an old typewriter in a cabin in the mountains somewhere. Nowthatwould be a cool score. Not that I would take Mr. Patterson out and steal his books or anything, of course,” I add, “I just mean, ya know…if we got there and he was a little more crimson than we remember, all those unpublished books would be fair game…” Jonah laughs and shakes his head.
“There is something wrong with you.”
“I’m well aware,” I assure him with a grin. Jonah knows all my dark and twisty curves, all my sharp edges—and the softer ones that I usually hide—and loves me through it all. I really don’t know what I would have done, or who I might be be, without him. We’d been neighbors and best friends long before the end of the world and had gotten through those early days of chaos together. We’ve seen each other through the worst times in our lives, saved each other time and time again, and I can say without a doubt that I wouldn’t still be standing if it weren’t for him. I love him more than any other person alive. He’s my family, plain and simple.
We had been on our own for almost three years before we found a good group to join up with out on the road. There were seventeen of us at that point…and thesixof us that were left ended up at The Cove about a year ago. It had taken us all a while to feel truly safe after being on the road and the run for so long, constantly struggling and fighting to stay alive, but now The Cove is home and I’m anxious to get back.
The trip home feels like it takes weeks, but really it’s only four days and we thankfully don’t run into any issues along the way. I straighten as we hit the turnoff, eager to be behind the high, secure walls and back in an actual bed again. The long private road leading in is still beautiful, though not exactly manicured these days. Tall grass and towering oaks line the street on both sides, along with abandoned cars at strategic intervals that can be moved to block the road within a few minutes if necessary. Guard stands had been built into trees every few yards, and I give small salutes to those on duty as we pass.
I’d become the unofficial head of security after our arrival. I didn’t want theactualtitle, but I was happy to help behind the scenes and thankfully Kurt, the official head, wasn’t pigheaded enough to not want my opinion. I’ve improved their existing security measures tenfold in the last year, and am proud of all the progress we’ve made. Everyone that has found their way to The Cove has been through enough. They deserve a place where they feel as safe as possible, and if I can help give them that, then I feel like I have at least some purpose left in this world.
Only about half of the homes in The Cove had been finished prior to everything going to shit, but that actually worked out in our favor: the empty lots had been converted into gardens or animal pens, helping with food production. Dismantled cars had been moved to line the outside of the wall surrounding the entire community, with metal spikes and wooden spears attached facing outward to stop Bloodies. Barbed wire topped the stone wall now too. Bloodies can’t really climb for the most part, but they aren’t the only threats in the world these days. At my suggestion, more platforms like the ones in the trees had been built at intervals along the length of the wall and each one is manned twenty-four-seven.
We approach the gate and wait for the guards to roll the reinforced metal gate aside. As we drive inside, I catch Bret’seye, and with the look he gives me, I instantly know something is wrong. I go on alert, ready for whatever might be waiting as the caravan makes its way inside and pulls around the grand circular entrance to the community, two entwined palms standing in the middle with the ornate sign readingThe Covestill standing stately between them. I leap out before Jonah even comes to a full stop.
“What’s going on? What happened?” I demand, body tensing and my hand flying to rest on the grip of the pistol at my hip.
“We’ve got visitors,” Bret says, irritation clear in his voice.
“Fuck,” I grit, but relax, knowing that there’s no real threat.Visitorsmeans that the dickhead who’d dubbed himself leader of the free world—or the leader of Haven anyway—and his goons are here.
Austin Traeger is a ruthless, heartless, annoyinglylikable, son of a bitch. I know, I know, it doesn’t make sense, but it’s true. When he isn’t displaying mangled bodies to remind everyone what he’s capable of, or taking hostages back to FOS to use as leverage—you obey my rules and I don’t torture your loved ones—he’s…charming? I know that’s true of many sociopaths, so I take it with a grain of salt, but it’s that charming quality that wins so many over to his side. They’re happy to overlook the fear and pain, all the terrible things he’s done, because it means their safety and, really, “he isn’t so bad most of the time.” Yep, that’s a direct quote from more than one Covey since we arrived. I have no idea how he first managed to take control over everything—he was already HMFIC long before Jonah and I arrived—but he’s kept his grip on it just fine since then because he’s not afraid to get his hands dirty. My money says he actually likes it, maybe even gets off on it.
We’ve had a handful of short, I’ll call themprofessionalconversations since our group joined The Cove. I was introduced to him as a part of the security team, so our interactionshave mostly been in connection with that—questions about our security measures, his suggestions for improvements (which I’m annoyed to say were good ones)—stuff like that. He’d quietly offered me a place at FOS after one of our meetings.Offered, notdemanded. I didn’t know what the hell to make of that, and of course wouldn’t go there in a million years, so I’d declined as politely as I’m capable of. Which is to say, not very—but he’d only smiled and nodded, as if he couldn’t have forced me if he’d wanted to. He hasn’t brought it up since, but every time our paths do cross, he gives me a look that tells me the offer stands and I give him one back saying my answer is the same. Then, the matter is dropped. It’s weird as hell, honestly, but I try not to think about it too much.
I try not to think of Austin Traeger at all, really.
Because I can admit that deep down, in a dark, dangerous part of myself, I know that some of my dislike for him is because we’retoosimilar, that Traeger is everything I could have easily become if it hadn’t been for Jonah. I’ve never been much for thirsting for power, but…I could see how pain and hatred could drive me to become like him, to lose all my humanity and bring as many people with me as I could. Except I wouldn’t try to be likable in the process and could do a hell of a lot more damage than he could ever imagine.
I shake the thoughts away, focusing on what’s going on now. Whenever Traeger makes his rounds to the settlements, his men come in first and sweep for weapons, confiscating every single one until he’s gone. Weapons aren’t allowed for anyone within the walls except for those on guard duty, and everything is supposed to be stored in our armory—aka the garage of one of the houses—whenever it isn’t in use, so really it’s mostly just double checking no one smuggled anything they shouldn’t have, which is a very punishable offense, and securing everything from the guards. His own men take watches whenever they’re here.
But Traeger has his men sweep every house, just in case. He knows all too well that some people would gladly sacrifice the hostages in his compound in order to take him out. The greater good and all that.
Sure enough, three of Traeger’s men arrive within a few minutes to disarm the group from the run. I endure the frisking with gritted teeth and glare as I hand over my pistol, rifle, and knives.
