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Climbing out of the driver’s seat, I offer a nod, breathing in the humid Florida air, while studying the bulges popping through the man’s armload of burlap.
“Got some fresh-picked oranges, if you and your wife wants some for the road.” The aging rasp of his voice carries an edge of irritation as he shoves the proffering into my chest, passing me for the charge controller. Most stations are self-serve, but a few of the owners like to do the hookups themselves, with the sweeping complaints of missing equipment. He pops the cover on the truck for the battery, and connects the cord to it, initiating the charge.
One more glance around the place ensures we’re not being watched, before I ease muscles primed to strike out at anything that threatens my family, and peering into the sack, I’m greeted by the sweet citrus scent that waters my mouth. Been a while since I’ve eaten a ripe orange. “I got some smoked venison I can trade.”
Hand propped at his hip, the old man gives a sharp nod of approval. “Well, hot damn, you got yourself a deal.”
“You out here by yourself?” Reaching through the truck window, I hand off the oranges to Thalia and, with Asher now awake, flick my fingers for the boy to pass my offerings from the back of the truck, where the meat is stored.
“For the most part. Don’t get too many travelers these days.” The old man accepts the trade, taking a moment to sniff the cloth wrapped around it. “Mighty kind of you,” he says, unfolding it for the strips of dried backstraps inside. “Where you all headed?”
“A community we heard about. Bunch of gated land with solar homes. Know of it?”
“’Course I do.” Teeth tearing away a bite, the old man fills his mouth with a chunk of meat, pausing his response just long enough to leave me hanging on his words. “I know just about every hive and home within a hundred miles. Place you’re talking about is Harmony Hills.”
“Yeah. That’s it.” In asking around over the last couple of years, I’ve managed to gather small bits of information, but all hearsay, as no one I’ve personally spoken to had ever actually seen the community. “Where can we find it?”
“You can’t. Folks there don’t take kindly to strangers. ‘Specially those who don’t look like they’re from these parts.”
“You live there?”
“Used to. Left the place about four years ago and never looked back.” He pops the last bite of a jerky strip into his mouth and wraps up the rest.
“They kick you out?”
“Nah. They’re good people. Protective, but good. The community is beautiful, but it just wasn’t for me, after my wife passed.” The old timer’s face crinkles with a frown, as he performs the sign of the cross. “God rest her soul.”
“I have friends there.”
“Everyone does.”
“You know Valdys and Cali?”
Rubbing his chin, he stares back, contemplative for a moment. “Suppose I know them, yeah.”
“Valdys and I grew up together. He’s like a brother to me.”
His wrinkled, rheumy eyes appraise me for a moment. “You’re one of them Alphas, then?”
“You’re familiar with Alphas?”
“Everyone in Harmony Hills is familiar with the Alphas. They’re like the old superheroes I used to read about in comic books. Damn near gods, isn’t that right?”
I glance back at Thalia standing at the opposite side of the car, where she raises her arms for a stretch, the grin on her face hinting at the smartass comments I bet are swimming in her head right now. The old moniker that she likes to tease me about on occasion. Always hated that name. “Then, this community … they welcomed my friends?”
“Practically worship ‘em.”
“What can I do to get you to tell me where to find this place?” Perhaps it’s age making me soft, because a decade ago, I’d have pinned the guy by the throat, threatening to choke him to death, until he spilled the location.
“You’re Alpha?”
“I’m Alpha.”
“Might be one thing you can do for me.” The older man jerks his head for me to follow. “Got another couple minutes for a full charge. C’mon.”
Used to take hours to fully charge a vehicle, but these days, it’s only slightly longer than filling a tank with gasoline.
Looking back at Thalia and Asher, who finally decided to get out of the vehicle, I give a knowing look, to which Thalia nods—a signal, if anything goes down while I’ve stepped away, to grab the gun in the back of the cab and take off. A game plan we went over a number of times, in the event we ran into marauders on the road. The world may have made a number of advancements in technology over the last few decades since the Dredge, but one thing that hasn’t changed is the opportunists, the predators who take without asking. Even if women aren’t nearly as scarce these days, men still outnumber them, and kidnappings are just as common as they’ve always been.
