Page 47 of Claimed By Ruin

“He doesn’t let you come into town?”

“I haven’t tried. But he has eyes on the road into town at all times. I’ve heard rumors of Christopher turning people away.”

“That’s different,” Jack said.

“Yeah, it is. His father loved showing that place off but Christopher is not his father.”

We slowed to a stop and got out at the blockade.

Eight men flanked Christopher, but they and their guns weren’t what I paid attention to. Instead, I stared off to the side of the road at a figure there.

It was Mr. Bailey. He had to be seventy by now and looked every day of it. He was tied up to a tree with a chain wrapped around his stomach, a long brown dunce cap on his head. The word thief—spelled T-H-E-I-F—was spray-painted on his white shirt in red paint.

I tried not to stare, but every time the man whimpered, my gaze turned to him. I wanted to help him.

I couldn’t.

“Asia, I’m surprised to see you here,” Christopher said, though we both knew that was bullshit.

“Well, I hope it’s a good surprise. I wanted to bring some things that might be useful.”

Christopher snapped his fingers and four of the men peeled off and unloaded the truck. Christopher kept his eyes on me, but catalogued every item his men removed.

“Thank you for dropping these things off, Asia,” he finally said as the men walked away. “I appreciate you being a part of this community.” He glanced over at Mr. Bailey. “Something other people seem to not want to be. Because this”—he said, pointing at one of the bottles of vinegar—“sharing is what survival is all about. We don’t take from each other. We work together as a collective. Figure out what everyone needs. No one puts themselves above someone else.”

I murmured noncommittally, then looked at Jack. Christopher looked at him, too.

“Glad you’re still here, Jack. Maybe we should set up a time to talk. See how you can be of assistance to this community, too. That is, if you plan on staying.”

Jack said nothing. Christopher stared at him for a long moment, then finally nodded.

“Next time,” he said with a tip of his imaginary hat.

I turned, trying to ignore Mr. Bailey’s whimpers, and got back into the car. Christopher and the others did, too, and drove off.

“We should help him,” I whispered.

Jack shook his head. “We can’t.”

I wanted to argue, but I knew it was true. We drove off. “That was Mr. Bailey,” I said as Jack guided the car down the road. “He taught history at the high school.”

“Well, I guess now he’s just a T-H-E-I-F,” Jack said, shaking his head with disgust. “People letting themselves get bullied by a petty tyrant who can’t even fucking spell.”

I sighed. “They’re scared, Jack. You know what they say about fear, right? What it does to the mind.”

“I do.”

I shook my head. “But I guess sci-fi novel platitudes don’t survive contact with reality.”

He shrugged. “I guess not.”

FOURTEEN

Asia

“Quiet!” I hissed.

“I didn’t say anything,” Jack said.