Page 27 of Worth the Ruin
“And Traeger lets it slide?” I spit, annoyed.
“Well, it’s all just rumor, I guess,” Wynn shrugs, but he seems uncomfortable with the idea of Traeger letting it slide. Then again, he knows better than most how fucked up this world could be now. He’d had a rough go of it until he’d found FOS. Or rather, until the FOSers had found him. Wynn told me that he’d been captured and held prisoner by a feral group a couple of years ago. They’d turned out to be very into cannibalism. I shudder now even thinking about it. Traeger had gotten wind of the group somehow, and had come to shut that shit down, rescuing a tortured and nearly-dead Wynn and a handful of others in the process. I’d reluctantly put a gold star next to Traeger’s name in my mental inventory for that one.He’s a certified knight in shining armor, isn’t he?
“I keep my distance from him though,” Wynn continues. “We’re all supposed to have each other’s backs, but I wouldn’t trust any of them with mine. Steer clear of them, but especially Jett. Collins and Barlett are mostly harmless unless Jett is there to pull their strings, I think.” His tone is serious, as it so rarely is. Has he seen the looks Jett had given me? Or is he just guessingbased on the bad vibes he gets from Jett in general? I’m pretty sure it’s a combination of both.
“I will,” I promise him, though I add silentlyuntil it’s time to end him.I sweep the area with my binoculars yet again, but there’s still no trace of anything. Not a single Bloody in sight and no one else skulking around either.
“Is it always this quiet here?”
“Usually, yeah. A handful of Bloodies make their way here every now and then, usually more through the woods on the other side by the lake than on this end, but there’s an old rock query a few miles to the east full of abandoned cars. We rig a few to blare their horns on a pretty regular schedule to draw as many of the Bloodies there and away from FOS as we can.” I raise my brows and nod. It’s smart. Really fucking smart, actually. I should mention trying to create something similar near The Cove to Jonah…then I remember that I’ll never actually get to speak to him again. Pain laces my chest and my eyes burn, but I force the tears away.
“Hey, I know you probably aren’t really supposed to, but the next time you go to The Cove…”
“I’ll let him know you’re alright, I promise.”
“Thank you. Tell him…tell him I said “you cheatin’, bitches!” and he’ll know I’m alright, he’ll know the message really came from me.”
Wynn laughs at my over-the-top Texan accent and I explain that it went way back to the early days of our friendship.
“So, one night, Me, Mitch, Jonah, and Sean—that was Jonah’s husband—were playing three-deck rummy. Well, Jonah and I were…we’ll say colluding. Some may call it cheating, but that’s such an ugly word…” Wynn snorts. “So Jonah was feeding me the cards I needed throughout the game with the husbands none the wiser, right. But after a few drinks, we got a little sloppy in our sneaking and Sean figured out what we were up to. Hejumped onto the table and pointed an accusing finger at us and yelled “You cheatin’, bitches!” in his thick Texan twang. We all about died from laughing so hard and the phrase just became a thing we all said to each other all the time.”
Wynn cracks up and I can’t help but join him, laughing at the memory even as the familiar pain settles in my chest. God I miss them all. I miss those days together, our lives, how the world used to be. We finally get ourselves under control and I tell Wynn to float the idea of the car lot distraction to Jonah too. He promises he’ll deliver both messages for me.
After a bit, I lean back on my hands and eye him.
“So, level with me here, Landry. Is all of this real? This whole paradise in the middle of the apocalypse thing?” I gesture back towards the compound. “Everyone thinks this place is hell on earth, but being here, that doesn’t jive. So, which one is the truth? Are the people just brainwashed and he’s really good at hiding the hell from me so far, or…?”
Wynn gives me a knowing look.
“You’re smart. What do you think?”
I puff up my cheeks before letting a long, slow exhale.
“I think…that he might just be a genius,” I begrudgingly admit. The rumors of his brutality and the horrors to be found at FOS not only keep his power in his grasp, but it keeps this place from being overrun with people wanting in.So, he’s only a monster outside of these walls or when he needs to be.
I think about all the lives he’s taken and all the things he’s done: Kevin’s son used as an example killing, the other settlement being destroyed in retaliation for an attempted attack, heads on pikes and disfigured members of his group being strung up outside of other settlements to show what happens when he wasn’t obeyed. Was it all for show? Is he really just playing a part and doing what has to be done?
And if that’s the case…what toll is it taking on him? And why do I fucking care?
I pinch my forehead and groan. Wynn chuckles.
“Is it a perfect system? No. But it’s doing the best with what we’ve got and even though its hard to see it sometimes, it really does keep everyone as safe as they can be.”
I don’t want to believe it. I want to believe that he’s really just a sick bastard who likes being large and in charge and hurting people along the way. I want to believe that he’s evil. Because if he isn’t…
No. I don’t go there. I don’t even let the treacherous thought take shape. Instead, Wynn and I start chatting football and life back in Louisiana, passing the time until dinner.
A few days later,I see an older woman struggling a bit to carry a heaping basket of laundry in from the outdoor lines near the edge of the lake. I supposed there are probably still dryers somewhere deep inside the hotel, but there’s no reason to waste the energy on them when the sun can do the job just fine.
I sprint over to the woman.
“Here, let me help you with that.” I take the basket and the older woman straightens with a bright smile, her sienna skin wrinkling at the edges of her amber eyes. She’s tall and thin, with an easy grace to her movements, like a dancer. Her hair is a deep, chocolate brown, streaked liberally with silver, and pulled into a tight bun on top of her head.
“Thank you, Mel.” My brows rise and the woman chuckles. “Everyone knows your name, mija. We haven’t had a fresh addition in quite a while…especially one that Austin has kept such a close eye on.” She glances over my shoulder and I frownin confusion. I turn to follow her gaze and find Traeger just across the lawn, watching us as he talks to Johnson. He raises a hand in greeting and the woman smiles and waves back. I turn back to her. Hearing someone refer to Traeger as anything but Traeger is so strange. I’d honestly almost forgotten his first name was Austin. Even his nightly visitors screamTraeger, notAustin.
“You’ve been the talk of the town, of course.”
Her smile is warm and inviting, her eyes kind, and her Columbian accent reminds me so much of my late mother-in-law that my heart clenches in my chest, one of those swift, stabbing pains that comes out of nowhere sometimes. I’d loved Gabriella as if she’d been my own mother. Hell, she’d been more of a mother to me than my own ever had. Mitch had always joked that his mom loved me more than she loved him. And I had always responded with “can you blame her?” I smile inwardly at the memory, but it fades quickly. We’d lost her just before we’d found out I was pregnant, and it still breaks my heart that she’d never gotten to meet Gabby, the granddaughter that had been named for her.
