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The bed was narrow and it was difficult to get comfortable. They were teaching her a lesson by separating her from Zeke. The ill-fitting job was another way of undermining her confidence. The stares and silences played their part as well. She was supposed to feel isolated and afraid, so that when the love-bombing started and she felt acceptance, she’d fall in line to avoid the pain of being rejected again. Knowing that’s how it worked was strength and comfort.
Still, it took her hours to fall asleep, running through e
very scenario for what came next, even the remote one where she never saw Zeke again.
There was no strength in that, and no comfort.
Chapter Five
Zeke woke, squinted at his naked wrist and then fumbled for his phone to check the time, groaning when his vision filled with nothing but blue sky. Yeah, that’s right, so much for missing his bed. He was in a sleeping bag on the hard ground, in the middle of thousands of acres of pristine wilderness, he ached all over, was desperate for a soak in a tub, and he was digitally detoxing.
And Rory likely had no idea he’d been drafted onto a construction crew where he’d live on-site for a week at a time.
A red-tailed hawk flew overhead, wild and free. What was Rory doing? Snug in bed still after taking names and kicking ass, hopefully. They’d been separated in the town square and he’d had no way of knowing he wouldn’t be back. It was a bitch not to be able to call her, send her a snap of that hawk, to make sure she knew he hadn’t been buried in a shallow grave out here with only a cactus as a marker.
It had to be five, maybe earlier. The air was crisp and the shadows still long. The rest of the crew was asleep, spread out around last night’s campfire. He unzipped the sleeping bag and rolled to his feet, shoved on his filthy jeans and snagged his T-shirt. With a full water bottle, and socks and boots in hand, he left the campsite. If anyone stopped him it was just a call of nature, if the drone drop site was further than he’d calculated, he’d say he got lost. The ten-man work crew had already had their jollies at the expense of his city slickerness, so it was an easy stereotype to play into.
He’d been walking twenty, thirty minutes when he hit the stand of trees where he knew the phone would be. It was sheer luck the work site was so close to it. He took a sip of water and checked his bearings, and a noise behind him, the drag of feet over earth, made him pause before he took another step.
“What kind of trees are these?” he said without turning.
“Mountain spruce.”
“Morning, Mike.” He tipped the remains of the water bottle over his head as the foreman stepped alongside him. “They good for anything?”
“The three Cs. Construction. Christmas trees. Carbon capture. What are you doing out here?”
Regretting he hadn’t woken earlier. “I’m not lost. I know where the camp is. What are you doing out here?”
“Making sure you don’t get lost.” Possible but not likely. Why hadn’t the gang boss made himself known earlier? “You can’t go wandering off.”
He should’ve wandered faster. Too dangerous at night even if he had a light source, he’d be too easily discovered. Twenty-four days to get that phone. Plenty of time still. If they were lucky, Rory would have found the signal jammer, or a cache of confiscated tech and he wouldn’t have to make up some excuse to go strolling through a forest.
“We should head back if we don’t want Chuck eating our breakfast.” Mike said.
They walked for a while in silence, the sun getting higher in the sky. The tightness in his muscles from unaccustomed physical work and sleeping on the ground had worked its way through and having Mike to himself was an unexpected bonus. He was one of the founding settlers and ran Abundance’s construction and maintenance projects.
“Why here?” He meant why build more cabins so far out, a good hour’s drive in pickups from the main town center.
“Need to be ready.”
Thanks, Vaguey McVague. He was about to come at it a different way, when Mike said, “This new neighborhood will be for refugees.”
“Aren’t we all refugees?”
“We are the chosen. They won’t be free settlers like us. Not Continuers. They won’t have paid their way. They won’t be equal, and they won’t have choices. Those who we allow to live here will need to prove their value by serving the rest of us.”
The bad taste in his mouth had nothing to do with morning breath. Mike just described slavery. “What do you mean they won’t be equal?”
“How could they be? They’re part of the problem. Brought what happens on themselves. We’ll take the best of them, those with special skills. Give them shelter. Those that can earn their keep can stay.”
God, for this alone they had to break this place up. “And those that can’t?”
“You don’t need to worry about that. They won’t be a drain on our resources.”
Which was as good as saying the penalty would be loss of life. This was all theoretical right now, not something he could act on. He had to choose his words carefully, not let horror show in his tone. “When things get really bad, how will we stop from being overrun?”
“You don’t need to worry about that either. Orrin will protect us.”
