Page 3 of Worth the Ruin
“I’m going to want this back,” I say to the man now loaded down with my arsenal as I toss my favorite hunting knife on the top of the pile. He’s tall and leanly muscled, with dark brown skin and a shaved head. He actually smiles at me in response, showing off very nice pearly whites and dimples, and inclines his head. I quirk a brow in surprise. This guy actually seems alright, especially compared to some of the other members of Traeger’s personal security detail that are straight assholes. He has a genuine warmth about him that I don’t expect, and when he inclines his head, I narrow my eyes. He looks so familiar…but I have no idea why. I know I’ve never seen him on these visits before…but I shrug, deciding to deal with it later. I’ll figure it out eventually.
I walk away, feeling uneasy and naked without any kind of weapon within arm’s reach. Knowing that I can’t actuallyuseone on Traeger or his men even if I had one doesn’t make me feel any better. Another settlement had tried to fight back in the early days of Traeger’s reign of terror, and it had ended…badly. Really fucking badly. He’d wiped theentirething off the map and delivered heads on pikes to the other settlements as a friendly reminder of what would happen if they ever tried something similar. Even still, I know there are some people who would risk retaliation if it meant killing him—if they knew where the hell to find him most of the time, that is.
No one actually knows where Traeger’s settlement, FOS, is. People have tried to follow him, but all attempts have failed. So, a direct assault on him and his is out of the question—and really stupid, to be quite honest. He’s got a crazy big arsenal, more hidden outposts keeping eyes on all of the roads between the settlements and the surrounding areas than anyone can possibly imagine (from what I gather, anyway), and the ability to crush anyone who tries anything to absolute dust.
And the truth of the matter is that a lot of people don’t actually mind having him in charge, even seem happy to have someone else making the decisions for them. They either turn a blind eye to his methods or just accept them, figuring this is just the way of the world now. They’re just grateful for the safety of the walls and the ability to finallyliveafter so long of simply surviving, and, really, I can’t blame them for it. Wasn’t I just longing to get back to the safety of The Cove when we were on the road?
And, as much as I hate to admit it, things aren’t all that bad under him anymore. The heads on pikes and mutilated corpses were things that were more prevalent in the early days. They still happen on occasion, of course, and members of other settlements are still taken as leverage, but overall, we’re mostly left to our own devices. Traeger’s men check in periodically, aiding in supply exchanges and stepping in if there are any problems, but Traeger himself rarely visits these days. So, it’s mostly easy to ignore everything he’s done, especially if youwantto ignore it. Ignorance is bliss and all that.
Another group of Coveys—the terrible monomer we use for ourselves—come to take care of unloading the vehicles and inventorying the haul and I sigh when I meet Jonah’s eyes. He’ll need to join the rest of the Council and see why Traeger is here. I don’t think we’re in trouble or we probably would have been met by a small army of Traeger’s men when we arrived, but therehas to be a reason why he made the trip himself this time. Jonah had quickly become one of the leaders of the settlement after our arrival, accepting a position on the Council, and I hadn’t been surprised in the slightest. He just has that way about him. He’s always been one of those people that make other people feel at ease and safe. People just instinctively trust him, and he’s ridiculously smart and resourceful, and always keeps a level-head and thinks things through. I’m more of a shoot first, ask questions later kind of person, so it’s no surprise I wasn’t asked to join.
Jonah is the reason we’d survived the initial wave of panic and violence that spread through the world in those early days of the end. He would argue and say it was me and my special skill set, or that we’d done it together at the very least, but I know the truth: he had saved me in untold ways when I was a walking zombie of sorts myself, and he’s the only reason we’re both still standing. If not for him, I’d be six feet under or a walking pyre of vengeance, burning everything in my path to the ground.
“Want me to come with?” I offer. I won’t be allowed inside the Council meeting, of course, but I can stand guard outside and I’m more than capable of fighting my way inside if something goes south.
“Nah, it’s alright. Go on home and wash up—you stink,” he says, wrinkling his nose. He only grins when I shove him. It’s true, and we both know it, but still.
“Dinner?” I ask.
He hits me with the smile that melts panties and boxer-briefs alike, walking backwards away from me towards the Town Hall—what used to be the community clubhouse.
“Hmmm. Filet Mignon, medium rare. Loaded baked potato. Garden salad with lite Italian dressing on the side. And a big ass beer.”
I laugh and shake my head.
“Spaghetti it is!” I call. He winks and turns to jog away, and I make my way to the house that we share a few streets over. Despite my annoyance at having Traeger and crew here, I feel myself relaxing a bit more with every step I take down the palm-lined sidewalk, seashells and sea glass pressed into the concrete here and there in decorative patterns. The Cove has a very beach town aesthetic despite not being on the coast. We’re only a few hours off, so I suppose that was close enough for the developer to take that vibe and run with it. Our house is an adorable little number with sky blue siding, deeper blue hurricane shudders, and a wraparound front porch complete with rockers and ceiling fans that turn lazily in the breeze.
I mount the porch and surreptitiously glance at the board in the far right corner beneath the flowerpot. I let out a small breath of relief. The line of soil beneath hasn’t been disturbed, so that means no one found my secret stash of weapons. It’s dangerous having it. Beyond dangerous. If any of Traeger’s men ever found it, I’d be dead, Jonah too most likely, no matter how much I insisted he had no idea. He honestly doesn’t. He has no fucking clue, but they’d punish him all the same. It’s only there for an absolute emergency, of course, but I like to be prepared for any and all alternatives. I have another stash hidden out beyond the walls in a hallowed out tree, just in case.
l do a quick but thorough inspection of every room to take inventory. I know that Traeger’s men would have swept for weapons, but I want to make sure the bastards hadn’t taken anything else…or rifled through my shit.
“So help me if my underwear drawer looks disheveled…” I mutter to myself as I toss my pack on the bed. I pull out the ragged, stuffed dog, petting his worn, gray fur before giving him a soft kiss on the head and setting him on the pillow.
I strip down and hurry to the bathroom for a much-needed shower. We’d been out on the run for eight days and though I’ddone a quick rinse in a stream on the way back two days ago, I feel unbelievably gritty and grimy. I can rough it with the best of them, but I’ve admittedly gotten pretty spoiled since coming to The Cove. Running water is one of the best parts of the place. Not just running water, buthotrunning water.
We’re very lucky that the apocalypse happened after solar panels had become all but mandatory across the country, and these self-sustaining, eco-friendly communities were all the rage. Cruelly ironic that when humans were finally getting serious about saving the planet, the planet saidtoo little, too late.The planet is doing much better now, living its best life really, with wildlife and plant life flourishing and taking back what used to belong to them—but mankind? Not so much.
I unplait my braids and shake out my long, dark brown strands, though there are a few strands of silver shining through these days. It’s such a relief to be safely back home where I can literally let my hair down. I always keep it up or braided when we’re on the road and I suppose it would make more sense to just sheer it off, but until shampoo becomes too scarce, I’m keeping it long. I know it’s stupid, but Mitch had always loved it long and I like to keep that part of myself for him, even after all this time.
I grip the sink and lean towards the mirror, studying my reflection. I hardly even recognize my own eyes. Mitch had always told me how full of life they were, how the gray sparkled with mischief and confidence and sensuality, how he could get lost in them for hours. Now, they’re as hard as slate, that sparkle all but gone.He’d be so disappointed, I think, a lump forming in my throat. He’d understand, of course, after everything I’ve been through, everything I’ve had to do, but it would still hurt him to see me this way. So hardened.
Even with the insanely intense and serious job I’d had before the end of the world, I was always the one cutting tensionwith jokes or off the wall comments, never letting any situation become too tense. I could resurrect a deadened room just by entering it. I was the life of the party, the good time girl who thought any situation could be solved with dirty jokes, a bottle of Jack, or a good old-fashioned dance party.
That’s who I used to be.
Now, I can’t even remember the last time I’dreallylaughed. Like make your sides hurt, crying, can’t breathe, almost pee your pants kind of laugh. I cut up with Jonah and Mull, sure, but even that isn’t how it used to be. There’s a part of me that’s just…missing now. Or maybe it’s still there, but it feels like it’s encased in a three-foot block of ice that I don’t think anything can thaw. I know that some of it is due to the state of the world. I’d had to harden myself to survive and do what needed to be done, but that wasn’t all of it.
No, the ice had come the day I lost Gabby.
I turn away from my reflection, not allowing myself to travel down that path. If therapists were still a thing, one would tell me that avoidance is not a healthy coping mechanism. But most therapists are either dead or having other people for dinner Hannibal Lecter style, so I really didn’t give a shit about what they might say or think about how I’m dealing.
I step into the steaming shower and scrub away a week’s worth of grime. By the time I’m done and putting on some lotion that Jonah had found for me—something with cucumbers that smells amazing— I feel much better and the past is locked firmly back in the past where it belongs. I dress in short cut-offs and an old, nearly threadbare LSU baseball t-shirt that I’ve somehow managed to hold onto all this time. I pad down the stairs just as the front door opens.
“Oh, that was fast. Did El Douche get what he wanted and leave already?” I ask in a hopeful tone, snorting at my own hilarity, but the humor dies as I come around the corner into thekitchen. Jonah is standing there, shaking his head—and Austin Fucking Traeger is smirking beside him.
Shit.
“El Doucheis here for dinner,” Traeger says, thankfully sounding amused rather than murderous. I cut my eyes to Jonah. He gives me a stern look, arching a dark brow. I know exactly what he’s wordlessly telling me:behave, Morales.
