Part 8 (1/2)
”Whoever cleaned out this place did a thorough job.”
Jennifer met him at the end of the aisle. ”Are we making Gilmanton our new camp?”
”Just until we figure out a way to get Windows back. Then we'll find someplace more secure.” He motioned toward the front door. ”Come on. Let's help DeWitt and the others check out the construction company and get settled in.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN.
The hand slid up Windows' back and cupped her shoulder, squeezing gently. Her eyes popped open as she jolted out of her sleep. A cold s.h.i.+ver shot down her spine and her skin crawled under the touch. She felt her v.a.g.i.n.a clench. She'd already had s.e.x with Meat twice tonight. The first time, she had woken up to find her pants down around her knees with him on top of her. Then, a few hours later, he had roused her and demanded a b.l.o.w. .j.o.b. Christ knew what he wanted now. Swallowing hard to force down the bile rising in her throat, she rolled over to face the latest indignity.
Debra knelt beside her. ”How are you doing?”
”How do you think I'm doing?” Windows sat up and pulled the end of the sleeping bag across her chest, holding it tight against her. ”He raped me twice last night. And Jesus Christ, doesn't he ever bathe? He smelled so bad it gagged me.”
”Hygiene is not a priority around here.” Debra stood up. ”Besides, last night was better than the alternative.”
Windows' face flushed. ”That's easy for you to say. I'm the one who took over being his play toy while you got a break.”
”Not for long. Meat will soon get bored and want to do us both at once.” Debra wrapped an arm around her daughter, hugging her close. Her tone became hard and angry. ”I went through the same thing you did my first night here, only Cindy was made to watch the entire time. So don't lecture me about how bad you have it.”
”Sorry.”
”Forget about it.” Debra rubbed her daughter's head, and then looked over at Windows. ”Come on. We all have ch.o.r.es to do around here. I got you a.s.signed to work the kitchen detail with us. It's the best job available.”
”Why's that?” Windows rolled on to her knees and began folding the sleeping bag.
”It's not that difficult. You have to prepare three meals a day, which is challenging considering how limited the food supplies are. More importantly, there are four of us in the kitchen most of the time. You'll make the fifth.”
”Safety in numbers?”
Debra nodded.
”And we can sneak food,” said Windows trying to lighten the mood.
”Trust me, you won't want to sneak any of what we serve here.”
Five minutes later, the three girls reached the ”kitchen”, an empty storage unit facing the northern wall of the compound. Outside the open sliding door, a large pot hung by a chain from a tripod, with embers from a dead fire piled up underneath. One woman, a blonde in worn and dirty jeans, swept the ashes into a dustpan while a brunette with short-cropped, badly-cut hair poured water into the pot and cleaned it. Along one wall inside the unit sat a fifty-five-gallon drum filled with dirty water. A teenage girl stood in front of it, taking a soiled dish, pus.h.i.+ng it beneath the surface, and wiping it clean with her hand. When she pulled out the dish, she flicked off the excess water and used a towel almost as dirty as the water to dry it.
Debra stepped into the middle of the women. ”Girls, this is Windows. She'll be joining us on kitchen detail.”
The brunette glanced up. ”So, this is Meat's new wh.o.r.e?”
Windows bristled, but Debra interceded. ”We all do what we have to in order to survive.”
The brunette huffed and went back to cleaning.
Debra turned her back on the woman and spoke to Windows, gesturing behind her to the brunette. ”The pleasant one here is Tracey. That's Karen.” She pointed to the blonde sweeping the ashes, and then to the teenager cleaning the dishes. ”And that's Lisa. Follow me.”
The two stepped inside the container unit. Against the rear wall sat a stockpile of boxes of rations. Windows read the labels. Almost everything came in cans, from luncheon meats, tuna fish, beans, and chili up to a variety of fruits and vegetables. A few cartons contained packages of jerky.
”This is all you have for rations?” asked Windows.
”It's all we have left. We went through the perishables within the first week, and all of the frozen foods shortly after. Every time the raiding parties go out foraging, they bring back as many canned goods as they can find. The past two months they've come back empty. Everything within a forty mile radius has either been cleaned out by us or someone else, or it's in one of the big towns where there are too many deaders to get it. At the rate we're going, we'll be out of food in a month.”
”Then what happens?”
Debra shrugged and looked away. She picked up a metal plate that held a pile of baked beans and two strips of beef jerky, and handed it to Windows. ”Since we're done here, you get to feed our special guest.”
”Special guest?”
”The creepy man,” whispered Cindy.
”He's not creepy,” Debra gently admonished. ”He's just old.”
”I don't understand,” said Windows.
Debra motioned for Windows to follow. They walked down to the end of the compound to the last unit in the far corner. The words KEEP OUT were written on the door in red paint. A padlock kept the sliding door secured to the frame. Debra bent down, removed a set of keys from her pocket, and opened it. Sliding the lock out of the ground mounting, she placed it to one side and lifted up the door halfway. When Windows didn't move, she motioned inside. ”Go ahead.”
Windows bent down and ducked under, and Debra closed the door behind her.
This unit was even more Spartan than her own living quarters, which said a lot. The ”furniture” consisted of a dirty sleeping bag crumpled up in one corner and a bucket in the opposite. The only light came from a battery-operated lantern placed in the center of the floor, its beam so dull that it barely lit the corners. A heavy stench of urine and s.h.i.+t permeated the room. She a.s.sumed the odor came from the bucket, which must have served as a toilet.
A raspy voice came out of nowhere. ”h.e.l.lo.”
Windows spun around, searching for the person a.s.sociated with the voice. Fear threatened to overwhelm her, and she fought back the urge to scream. Instead, she prepared to fight, fueling it with her rage, rage that came from Debra having set her up. Windows would deal with her if she got out of here alive. Right now, her eyes darted around the unit, but she couldn't see into the corners because of the dark.
”I didn't mean to startle you.”
Something stirred inside the sleeping bag. One of the flaps fell to the side, revealing a haggard old man sitting underneath. She had not noticed him at first because his clothes appeared as threadbare and filthy as the sleeping bag. Long, white, unwashed hair hung in clumps off his head and draped across his shoulder, with several loose strands sticking against his scraggly beard. His features were drawn and gaunt. She could hardly see his eyes between the dark circles under them and the lack of light, but they mirrored a broken and defeated soul. The fingers on both his hands twisted in unnatural positions and curled in against the palms at awkward angles. Placing his deformed hands on the ground, he struggled to sit upright, and then leaned back into the corner. When he did, the odor of feces became so overwhelming Windows gagged.
”Sorry about the smell.” The old man raised his gnarled hands. ”Hygiene is not easy for someone in my condition.”
Windows hesitated. Nothing in his manner was threatening, so she cautiously approached. ”I have your dinner.”
”Is it that time already?”
He pulled the loose flap of the sleeping bag back across his lap to mask the stench and held out his hands. Windows tried to hand him the plate, but he could not hold it because of his fingers. The plate started to slide, threatening to spill the food across his lap. Windows caught it at the last minute and tilted it so the contents moved back to the center. Moving closer to the old man, she knelt beside him and scooped up a forkful of beans.
”You don't have to do this,” he croaked, his tone neither defiant nor proud, but one of a man long used to being mistreated.
”I know.”