Page 28 of Savagely Yours
Not so much as the rats and raccoons had stuck around, as if the current state of things was too much for even them.
The train solely operated to bring more refugees to the camp under the pretense of universal safety and equal treatment. The lot on the other side of the walls harbored empty cars and a bus that looked like it had been brought to a stop by a lamp post. Since I’d been there, I’d seen only one person on the outside who looked like they could have been infected, and they were promptly put down by one of the wall snipers.
I left the window and headed for the map I kept tacked to a wall where I might have put a TV had this been a year ago. To others, it was a chart of the weekly routes from my role as a Fort Totten guard. But, in my mind’s eye, it glowed with the locations I’d searched so far in hopes of finding Larke. To go from spending every day together to now not having seen her for—I glanced at my calendar—twenty-four days, three hours, and thirteen minutes, I felt like I was missing a ventricle.
As far as I knew, we were in the same location, but I wasn’t yet able to confirm whether that was the case. Then, as a former SEAL, I was considered a VIP resident. As a former prosecutor, I wanted to believe she’d received the same designation, but four principles determined hierarchies at the safe zone: the ability tobuild, heal, farm,andprotect.Everyone else was considered non-essential, or Non-Essentials. I was a Protector, my level set at the highest rank for a guard: Class One Elite.
Sighing, I ran my fingers through my hair, crossed off the area I’d searched the day before, and went to the bathroom to prepare for my day.
Once finished with my morning routine, I dragged on the all-black uniform that regularly made me want to turn my weapon on myself and stepped out into the main corridor.
A few other guards, these in gray camo, made their way down to the “mess hall” on the ground floor. From what I’d gleaned inthe last three weeks, the safe zone had started as an apartment community that the government seized from the original developer. However, the need for a safe space for citizens arrived quicker than expected, which explained the construction still underway on the farthest edge of the complex’s perimeter.
My living quarters were on the seventh floor out of eight. Yet, I bypassed the elevator and took the stairs, in no mood to be stuck inside a windowless box and expected to engage in small talk about ridiculous shit as if all was right in the world.
Loud chatter and laughter greeted me the closer I got to the repurposed grand event hall. Then, swallowing my annoyance, I entered the large room with the checkered flooring, ornate coffered ceilings with gilded accents, and communal tables.
A few of the guards tossed head nods my way.
Several others waved.
I ignored them all.
I wasn’t there to make friends. I was there because I couldn’t leave without my girl.
Once we were reunited, we would be done with this place. Afterward, I would try to get in contact with my team. Gage was the farthest out on the West Coast. Next was Mike, who was down in Texas. No one knew what continent Giorgio was on, so I’d put my energy into meeting up with Julien first. He and Ari were the closest in Virginia. That was, unless all of this mess had driven them out.
I went to grab a tray.
The head cook, Mae, grabbed it instead.
“Good morning, Dezzie,” she greeted.
I was always in awe of how brightly she still smiled despite all the other shit. She wore her silver hair in a low afro, and although it had been roughly twenty years since we first met, her eyes were exactly the same—deep brown, clear, and kind.
“Good morning, Mae,” I returned. “Aren’t you tired of taking care of me?”
“Of course not. You’re my son.”
“As if I ever could be.”
“Dezzie, I would have loved the chance to raise you as my own, but we did just fine, didn’t we? And look how good you turned out.”
I smiled.
Without Larke, I smiled only for Mae.
“Now, what do you want first?”
Knowing she wouldn’t back down, I pointed to the first stainless steel-covered dish with the word “eggs” on a placard in front. The safe zone was still building up their farm, so our eggs were powdered. Yet, when Mae was cooking, they tasted like the real thing.
“I’ll take some eggs,” I said. “And what’s that next to the oatmeal? Are those dates?”
“Yep, and they’re almost as sweet as me.”
My smile grew. “Impossible. But I’ll have a bowl of oatmeal with a few of the dates, some walnuts, and a protein bar. While you do that, I’ll grab some coffee.”
“No, you’ll grab yourself a seat.”
