Page 95 of Darkness I Become
Asha nodded, and they permitted her entry into the little hamlet carved out of a city suburb. It was only a few streets, but it was cleaner and more orderly than any gang settlement she’d visited. The peoplelooked relatively healthy, with meat on their bones indicating that they were decently fed. There were no beggars in the streets, and the aging buildings had been patched up and repaired; someone obviously maintained them regularly. All along the main street where she stood, there were stalls of wares, with merchants calling out to the few passersby.
She walked the strip somewhat nervously, but after a thorough search, she realized something remarkable: there was no slave market. No terrified young women or girls staring at their feet while some asshole bought them. Relief shot through her immediately, and she wondered how it might be to live in a place like this. Maybe she could live here, instead of the Valley? She had no idea what she might do here, except…
Asha stopped short in front of a stall that appeared to be selling, of all things, old radios—the kind that people used to talk to one another. Though the Guardians had never used radio, she’d heard since then that, although it was rare, it was pretty much the only long-distance form of communication left. In fact, she’d seen Madigan use one to talk to other Valley residents before.
If that’s true,she mused,then the Delta must have one, too.
She approached the stall, where a grumpy-looking old man sat, surveying her with thinly veiled suspicion.
“Do these radios still work?” Asha asked, hoping she sounded friendly. She hadn’t tried to sound friendly in so long.
The old manpshed at her. “Well, I wouldn’t know now, would I? How am I supposed to test ’em, huh? No power out here. You buy ’em as-is, miss, and find your own power source. No refunds, no exchanges.”
Asha raised an eyebrow. “So, you’re selling merchandise that you don’t even know if it works?”
He huffed again. “I told ya, didn’t I? Buy ’em or make way for better customers. Makes no difference to me.”
Asha suppressed an eyeroll, then walked away from the stall.As if he has a line of customers just waiting to buy his Old World junk.
She didn’t have anything to trade at the moment, but they had alcohol back at the farm, which she knew was a hot commodity that could buy just about anything in the right amount. It was stored in the cellar, and surely Madigan wouldn’t miss one bottle.
It wasn’t exactly ethical, but then again, she’d once sold herself to a renegade soldier who murdered his own father, so in comparison, stealing a little whiskey seemed tame. Besides, since Madigan thoroughly hated her, he might ultimately be pleased if she up and disappeared one day, never to be seen again.
Asha walked back towards the gate, a new, dark hope brimming inside of her.
“This—piece—of—fucking—garbage!”
Asha slapped her new radio in disgust. She was in her bedroom at Summerhurst on a blustery winter morning, seated on the floor next to the outlet she’d plugged the stupid device into. To her surprise, the old machine had initially whirred to life when connected to power, despite its obvious age. The old man at the Post hadn’t scammed her after all, which should’ve been cause for celebration.
Except that even after a half hour of fiddling with the knobs and controls, the damn thing had shitty reception. The only signals she could hear came from radios already inside the Valley. It definitely would never reach the Delta from there, but she knew of no other place where she could power it.
She paused, thinking hard. The radios inside the Valley were mostly handheld and battery-powered—unlike this one—and carried by what passed for first responders in this miserable place. Madigan had one, but he kept it on his person at all times, so it was unlikely she could steal it from him.
If there was a way to get one of those radios,she thought,I could take it to the Post and try to get a signal from there. It’s much closer to the Delta.
It was an incredibly risky idea. No one would willingly give her such a thing, even if she had something valuable to trade. She had no idea how she would manage it.
Still, in the meantime, she’d envisioned an idea for how to persuade the Delta to take her in. There was a great deal of technology here in the Valley that didn’t seem to exist anywhere besidesthe compounds, and she suspected that they would be very interested to learn of its location.
Of course, that meant that everyone here would be imperiled, but given that they treated Asha like trash, she didn’t much care about any of them. She knew they’d likely see a community of Wastelanders with technology—anytechnology—as a threat that ought to be neutralized. But by the time that happened, it’d no longer be her problem.
The bonus would be rescuing Claire, as Asha didn’t believe that they’d be willing to harm another compound person. Likely, they’d take her in as well, and things could perhaps go back to the way they were. If only Asha’s attempts to persuade her friend of the danger of their situation worked, maybe Claire would even agree to go with her when the time arrived.
She recognized the darkness in her heart, and the secret horror of her plan. Some part of her screamed at the injustice of what she was doing. But Cade had been right about one thing, in the end: they did what they had to in order to survive. Whatever it cost. Whatever it left them with.
Safe. All I want is to feel safe again.
“Asha?” Claire called outside Asha’s bedroom door.
Asha panicked, shoving the radio under the bed and hurrying to get the door.
“Morning,” Claire said with a small smile. “Want to come milk the cows with me?”
Asha could hardly think of anything she wanted to do less—something about milking really disgusted her—but she nodded reluctantly and followed her friend out to the barn.
Claire thankfully handled most of the actual milking, but they were interrupted by the appearance of Zach Jameson, which instantly made Asha wary. He was a tall, lanky thing with a mop of brown hair, barely more than a boy—perhaps twenty at most. He still seemed to enjoy following her around the Valley whenever he spotted her, peppering her with various bits of sexual harassment. He was dumb as a box of rocks, and the only thing they had in common was how much they hated Madigan.
“You sure scare easy,” he jeered at Claire. “Can’t imagine what Madigan is thinking, bringing you here. You think you won’t face far worse than a little spilled milk before we kick your ass out?”
