With a frail smile, she whispered, “How could I forget about you?” Her lips quivered. Quickly, she forced them into a smile. Fear and regret weren’t things she planned to share with her baby. “I love you. You probably can’t hear me, though, huh?” Her chest fluttered through a whimpered chuckle as tears blurred the soft glow of the lantern. “I’m scared, you know?” she continued through her soft crying. “I am, but I’ll never let you know that. I’ll always make the hard choices for us, so you don’t have to.” A deep breath in. “The world’s crazy, but you’ll never know any different. I promise, by the time you come, I’ll find us somewhere safe, or I’ll make it myself. Somewhere not crazy at all. Nothing bad will ever happen to you. Too many people will love you. Too many people will fight for you.” Determined, she stood, brushing away her tears. Danny’s not telling me no today. Not today.
Wrapped in her blanket, she shambled toward the front of the tent to check the zipper but stopped. After only a few steps, her bladder began screaming at her. Whoa! Where’s that bucket? Hurriedly, she snatched it from under the lounger and fitted her toilet seat on top. There we go… She relieved herself, and once finished, set it to the side so she could check the door to her tent before slipping into a pair of cargo pants.
While dressing, Jenny realized the mess that had accumulated over the past day. So before leaving, she straightened up her space. The blankets. Books. Clothing. A few odds and ends on her table. A quick spritz of perfume finished its refresh. “Much better. And now”—she inhaled sharply—“we don’t take no for an answer.”
Carefully, she rolled the zipper, doing her best to be more considerate than the last person who had walked past. She slipped her head through the partial opening in the door, holding her breath, still nervous about Griffin. After a few glances, it seemed she’d be alone, so Jenny eased from the tent, bucket in hand. Immediately, she braved taking a breath to get it out of the way—no small feat by any means. Moist and heavy, one could feel the air. It wasn’t taken in breaths. In the “Cave,” where most the Depot residents slept, you chewed the air.
The Cave sat in the middle of the Depot, consisting of most the aisles from the original store’s floor plan. Tarps were stretched aisle over aisle, creating a ceiling across them. Then, only along the perimeter shelves, tarps were bound along their sides for the walls. Inside the Cave, gaps had been made by pulling some of the shelving units apart, leaving just enough room for a body to sneak between aisles. And for the rest of the space, tents were lined up side-by-side. To Jenny, it reminded her of a homeless encampment she had once seen on the news a long time ago, only cleaner. I guess…
In reality, she lived in a squatter’s camp, pure and simple. Despite the conditions, she couldn’t complain too much. It served its purpose. A place to sleep. A place to rest. Fortunately for her, she stayed on a perimeter aisle. Less foot traffic and it stayed quiet for the most part. But there were others that had it better. Only a few, maybe a handful, had the pleasure of one of the back offices converted into bedrooms—Griffin and Danny being two of them. Those were true luxury. A lock. Privacy. True privacy. Being able to choose who came and went.
Following the low-voltage lighting, she squirmed her way between the tents—through the cramped pathways—underneath ropes with moist clothes and rags slung across them—tiptoeing over extension cords snaking their way across the concrete floor toward the front of the Cave. All while managing not to spill a single drop from the bucket.
“Hey, Jenny.”
Startled, she turned toward the line of tents behind her.
“Just me…” a woman in her forties mumbled through a surgical mask, tinged with brown. Tentatively, the woman shuffled forward, her heavy trench coat hung loosely over her meager frame. She made certain to keep some distance between them as she spoke. Some still played it safe. Safer than most believed was necessary nowadays. “You have anything fun on the agenda today?”
“Fun? Doubt it.” The snarky reply caused the woman’s shoulders to slump. Realizing her curtness was uncalled for, Jenny tried to lighten the blow. “But we’ll see. Probably going to take it easy today.”
“Makes sense.” The woman nodded. “Heard you weren’t feeling well. You ain’t sick are ya?” She forced the question quickly. Jenny could see the nervousness in her eyes, the fear.
“Not sick. No. Just overdid it yesterday.”
“That’s good,” the woman said, visibly relieved. “No tellin’ what’s still floating around in the air out there.” Again, she shuffled closer to Jenny. This time, pulling a small jug from her trench coats inside pocket. “You mind running this over with yours?” Once she brought it forward into the light, Jenny realized its contents—the same as her bucket.
“Go ahead.” Jenny set it to the floor. “I’ll get yours to the yellow tank too.”
The woman tipped her jug until it was empty, then wiped the spout with a rag she had hanging from her belt. “Thanks. I just—”
“Don’t worry about it. I was already going.” Jenny went to leave, about to push the tarp clear from the makeshift door frame that led out of the Cave, but hesitated. “You haven’t seen Griffin around have you?”
“Not in here, no. I’m not sure I’m the one to ask. You know I don’t like to venture out unless I have to.” The wrinkles across the woman’s forehead creased inward. “But if you’d like me to, I could ask someone in here to go out and find him? You need him now?”
“No!”
The woman gave her a baffled look.
“Sorry, no.” Jenny settled her voice. “I was just wondering. Thanks, though.”
The woman offered a quick nod before Jenny pushed the tarp clear and left.
Jenny flinched, raising a hand to block the natural light pouring through the rectangular cutouts in the roof—numerous sections that had been punched out, framed, and filled with windows. Even with the light—that tiny bit of added warmth—the drop in temperature when exiting the Cave was noticeable. It helped remind her why the tarps were necessary. Justified the staleness of the air inside. Every time she made it out of there, Jenny eagerly sucked down a large portion of what she considered real air, no matter how frigidly cold it was.
In front of her, a large shadow moved across the wall. A person atop the roof, one of the sentries, no doubt. She craned her neck to follow the person’s path through short glimpses in the windows. They paused every so often, most likely to wipe the falling snow from the solar panels which powered the car battery banks.
If Danny won’t let me continue on the team, he could at least arrange a sentry post for me, right? I mean, why not? What could he argue? Of course, he’d find something, but he’d have to at least hear me out. I already proved I can shoot. I’d be at the Depot for regular meals and rest. It’s pretty much what he wanted for me anyways, so just stick me on the damn roof with the other guys.
I guess it’d be cold, but at least Griffin wouldn’t be up there to bother me. And during my downtime, I could hang with Grant. That’d keep Griffin away from me around the clock. Win-win. This could be as easy as swapping me with Derrick. What the hell could Danny say was wrong with that?
I’d miss Sherman, though. Maybe this isn’t such a good idea. That’s a lot of training I’d be wasting. I guess I could always ask Danny if he’d still let me train with him every once and awhile. Now, I’m probably getting close to asking too much. Damn it…