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The aproned kids were chatting happily—like people who were eating well, Bug thought bitterly—as they sliced open the fish and, with many cries of, “Ewww, this is so gross,” sluiced the fish guts into big, white plastic tubs.
Others then took the cleaned fish, cut off their heads and tails, and scraped the scales from them under running water.
Bug hated fish. Really, really hated it. But he would have given anything, done anything, to have a plate full of fried fish. Ketchup would have helped, but even without it, even knowing that ketchup might never be seen again, the idea of a big plate of hot anything seemed wonderful.
It made Bug want to swoon. Fish! Fried, steamed, microwaved, he didn’t care.
Bug considered his options. He could grab a fish and run. But although people couldn’t see him easily, they’d sure be able to see a fish flying through the store and out the door. And those kids at the door and on the roof probably weren’t good shots, but they didn’t have to be when they were firing machine guns.
He could try to conceal a fish down his pants or under his shirt. But that assumed the kids with the gutting knives were slow to react.
A kid Bug recognized came in: Quinn. One of Sam’s friends, although at one point, he’d been with Caine.
“Hey, guys,” Quinn said. “How’s it going?”
“We’re almost done,” one answered.
“We had a good day, huh?” Quinn said. There was obvious pride in his tone. “Did you guys all get some to eat?”
“It was, like, the most delicious thing I’ve ever eaten in my entire life,” a girl said fervently. She almost choked up with emotion. “I never even used to like fish.”
Quinn patted her on the shoulder. “Amazing what tastes good when you get hungry enough.”
“Can I take some home for my little brother?”
Quinn looked pained. “Albert says no. I know this looks like a lot of fish, but it wouldn’t even be a mouthful per person in the FAYZ. We want to wait till we have some more frozen. And…”
“And what?”
Quinn shrugged. “Nothing. Albert just has a little project he’s working on. When he’s ready, we’ll tell everyone that we have a little fish available.”
“You’ll catch more, though, right?”
“I’m not counting on anything. Listen, though, guys, you know you have to keep this to yourselves, right? Albert says anyone tells about this, they lose their job.”
All four nodded vigorously. The price of disobedience was losing access to a fried-fish meal. That would be enough to scare most kids into behaving.
One of the guys looked around, like he was suspicious. He looked right at Bug, though his eyes slid right over him. Like he sensed something but couldn’t put his finger on it.
The hunger was terrible. It had been bad when all Bug hoped to get was a can of beets. But the mere existence of fresh fish…he was imagining the smell. He was imagining the flavor. He was slavering, drooling, his stomach…
“If you give me some fish, I’ll tell you a secret,” Bug said suddenly.
Quinn jumped about a foot.
Bug turned off his camouflage.
Quinn reached for one of the knives and yelled, “Guards! Guards, in here!”
Bug held out his hands, showing he had no weapon. “I’m just hungry. I’m just so hungry.”
“How did you get in here?”
“I want some fish. Give me some fish,” Bug pleaded. “I’ll tell you everything. I’ll tell what Caine’s doing. I am so hungry.”
Quinn looked profoundly uncomfortable. Even nervous. Two armed kids rushed into the room. They looked to Quinn for direction, and pointed their guns without any real conviction.
Quinn said, “Oh, man. Oh, man.”
