At the registers in front of her, several people gathered, some standing, others relaxing on the conveyor belts, chatting between spoonfuls of stew. Jenny caught someone’s attention. “Heard this is thanks to you,” a man said, lifting his spoon in the air as a salute. Jenny smiled, slightly embarrassed, but gratified with the recognition as others joined him in thanking her. They waved her over, but Jenny declined, lifting the bucket to show them her excuse why she couldn’t, unsure that if she didn’t have it, she would have obliged them anyway.
“Come back when you can,” the man followed up. “Don’t be so damn shy all the time.”
After a polite nod, she stepped off toward the Garden Center. A few people passed her in the opposite direction, smiles plastered across their faces, hands being warmed by bowls steaming with stew. Each person made eye contact with her, speaking to her between slurps. Word had certainly gotten around.
“Thanks, Jenny.”
“Way to go, kid.”
“Tastes great.”
“It smells like it,” Jenny replied as she neared the not-so-automatic sliding doors which led to the outdoor Garden Center. She pushed one side open, leaving barely enough space for her and her bucket to squeeze through. Straight away, the air stung her face, cut through her pants—an instant pang of numbness smacked her thighs. “Whew!” She shivered. The deep freeze that greeted her and the shrill scrape of shovels across concrete sent a chill down her spine. Each breath seemed to bite back—harsh and bitter cold.
Her way to the yellow tank and soup line was mostly unhindered. She took a swath of bare cement, sidestepping one of the younger boys shoveling paths in the fallen snow. He scooped his work into coolers near the Depot’s outer wall. From there, it would be hoisted onto the roof and added to the catches. Each catch fed the rainwater (or snow in this case) down through the roof and into the filtration systems assembled upon the shelving units inside the Depot. Every bit counted. The semi-trucks full of bottled waters on the dock wouldn’t last forever no matter how many times they replenished the stock. When they had nature’s help, they took it. Even if it was hard work
“Running late today, Jenny?” A middle-aged man took the bucket from her with a gloved hand and set it on the table between them. “You, Rita, and…”—he pushed his spectacles up the bridge of his nose then tapped his wax pencil down the clipboard, searching his list—“and Tony are the last ones I need for the day.”
“Well, I have Rita’s there, too.”
He eyed her suspiciously, looking into the bucket, swirling its contents.
“It’s all there.” It’s all there? It’s not a suitcase of money. It’s piss, Lars, no one’s trying to steal it. Get a grip.
“It does look like a pretty good amount.” Lars must’ve believed her because he checked two boxes and set the list on the table. He brought his glasses back toward the tip of his nose. “Grant told me you weren’t feeling too good. Time for a break? Any way you’d cut that cowboy stuff out and join us? He said you’re pretty handy with a set of tools.”
“I’m not sure I’m ready for all that.” Jenny flicked her hands toward the yellow tank. “You guys can have it.”
“May not look like much, but that urine’s pretty important.”
Jenny’s face slumped into a mixture of disbelief and disgust.
“I mean it. Once there’s enough, we’ll boil it, turning it into water and urea. We’ll use the water for whatever, but the urea.” He shook his pointed finger. “The urea can be used to make fertilizer and”—he lowered his voice—“a pretty nasty explosive.”
“I’d like to help with that.”
“I bet you— Tony! Just the man I was looking for,” he called out. “Thanks, Jenny. I’ll let Grant know you said hi.”
“Thanks. I’ll make sure to get my replacement bucket after I eat.”
“I know you will.”
On the adjacent table, Jenny grabbed a bowl, spoon, and cup for breakfast. One of the cooks took a jug of water from near the fire and poured her some. “Thanks,” Jenny said, but she eyed it warily. No hint of yellow. With those two stations so close together, she always checked just to be sure.
With the next cook in line, Jenny held out her bowl, and the woman ladled in some of the stew. “Deer and potatoes,” she said before adding a touch more and winking. “Nice job yesterday.”
With a slight grin, Jenny nodded. “Thank you.”
Balancing the soup and the water within their vessels, she teetered over to the lawn chairs encircling one of the burn barrels. Several conversations rose and fell around her. Voices loud and low, but for the most part respectful of one another. Some looked to Jenny as she sat in one of the empty chairs, but most ignored her, respecting her habit of never sharing her own stories. Instead, she filled her mind with their words and her belly with the stew. This stew is pretty good. A tug at her coat. Closing her eyes, she muttered, “Damn it,” thinking of only one person to ruin this. Griffin.
“What?” Matt asked.
Pleased at the sound of a friendly voice, Jenny turned in her seat. “I didn’t say anything.”
“Uh-huh…” Matt rolled his eyes. “You feeling better yet?”
“Yes.” She said it firmly, although it was a borderline lie—too much still consuming her mind. At some point, she would have to tell him about the baby. He deserved to know. Still not the right time.
“Stew’s good.” Matt took a seat next to her.
“It is. Especially because we made the kill.”
“You made the kill,” he stressed.
“Wouldn’t have been able to do it without you guys. We’re a team. Well…” She rolled her spoon through the stew. “I hope we’re still a team, but I haven’t heard from Danny yet.” She looked to Matt for something, any tidbit. “You know anything?”
“Danny was impressed with your kill. Even talked you up a bit.”
“What?!” The rise in her voice caught the attention of a few others around the fire. Jenny stopped talking to allow some of the eavesdroppers a chance to consider another conversation to take interest in. “What did he say?” she whispered.
“Well…” he stretched the word out just enough to annoy her.
“Out with it, Matt.”
“He said he was proud of you. Probably only said it out loud cause you wouldn’t be able to hear it,” Matt joked.
“What exactly did he say?” Her voice had an urgency to it.
“Said you hesitated a little but got the shot off then tracked the deer.” Matt took a breath before continuing, “Someone else tried to say that tracking it in the snow wasn’t a big deal, you know, trying to make it sound like anyone could do it. But Danny—”
“Who said that?” Jenny interrupted with a fierceness.
“Don’t remember.” Matt’s eyes didn’t meet with hers.
“Matt?” she pressed him.
“Doesn’t matter. Danny stuck up for you. Said the other guy hadn’t bagged meat in like 4 months. You should’ve seen his face when Danny said that. He shut up quick.”
Jenny laughed, bringing back some of the same stares from earlier, which caused her to shut down again.
“Why do you get like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like that. You act differently here. This place has changed you or at least while you’re actually here in the walls. When we’re out on a scout, it’s usually normal Jenny. Then, back here it’s—”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Jenny gulped her soup down and shifted from the seat.