“No, on the account he was a Gunnery Sergeant in the Marines,” Jacob said.
“Oh,” Portia said. She took a spoonful of stew and brought it to her lips. She blew on it and sipped it. “Hmm, has a meaty, wait, it tastes like corned beef hash.”
“Close, its a couple cans of dog food, mixed with potatoes, canned corn, powdered garlic and onion.”
A look of revulsion swept over her face as she put the bowl down.
“Now why did you have to tell her about the dog food?” Jacob said smacking Chef on the arm.
“I’ll have you know that those old cans of dog food are decent. It was made with decent ingredients. Hell, a can of dog food is a better meal than what you can get at any roadside slop house in the Republic.”
“But now you’ve got the lady all upset,” Jacob said.
Portis wiped her mouth and looked for a bottle of water.
Sensing her needs, Leigh pulled out a canteen and offered it to Portia.
Portia took it, swished the water in her mouth and spit it out.
“Give me the water back,” Leigh snapped unexpectedly.
“But I didn’t take a drink yet,” Portia said surprised by Leigh’s abrupt change in tone.
“You spit out a precious resource. I won’t have you wasting anymore water. I get you didn’t like the taste of the stew but we don’t waste,” Leigh barked. She looked at Jacob and said, “She must be from The Collective.”
Portia handed the canteen back and said, “I’m sorry.”
Leigh snatched it back. “If you’re going to run with us, rule number one, don’t waste resources.”
“I’m sorry,” Portia again said.
Jacob jumped in, “She didn’t know.”
“Jacob, what are we doing? This little side job cost us two days, we could’ve been in Puerto Penasco by now and on our way,” Leigh complained.
“I made a promise, you know that,” Jacob said.
“But you made a promise to your team first,” Leigh countered.
Portia watched the back and forth. Leigh was a strong women by all counts. She looked tough, but her persona screamed, “Don’t fuck with me.” She was impressive looking with her war paint, intricate braids and leather clothes.
“My team is my top priority,” Jacob said defending himself.
“I don’t even want to go, but we voted as a team and the majority wants to go. I say fuck everyone, let’s go kick ass and at least go out fighting,” Leigh said.
“I agree with Leigh,” Crusher said nodding.
“I love ya’ girl, but I’m over this shit, I’ve been fighting for my entire life. If there is a place called Paradise, I want to see it,” Chef chimed in.
“Cause you’re a pussy,” Leigh growled at Chef.
“I am what I eat,” Chef countered with a devilish smile.
“Team, enough, we voted and it was three to two. And as always we do things as a team,” Jacob said.
“Dumbest thing ever,” Leigh said.
Portia loudly cleared her throat and asked, “What’s Paradise?”
“There’s been rumors floating around for years that an island exists, not far off the coast of Central America. It’s untouched by the ravages of war; no radiation, no Generates, no conflict. Anyway, up until recently I thought it was just a rumor until a map came into my possession. The coordinates point to an island exactly where all the rumors say it is, seven hundred plus nautical miles west of Costa Rica.”
“That map is bullshit,” Leigh said.
“Let me finish,” Jacob said. “My team has decided to leave this God forsaken place and sail there.”
“Half of your team is going in protest,” Leigh blurted out.
“The reason this is even an issue with our team is because over the past year, The Republic, The Collective, and other countries or territories have aligned under one cause, to wipe out all Leviathan. They’re afraid of us, so they want us all dead,” Crusher said.
“I think my husband mentioned your group to me; I think he told me he killed someone from Leviathan,” Portia said.
The group grew silent and all eyes stared at her.
Noticing the awkward silence, Portia asked, “Did I say something?”
“Your husband killed one of ours?” Leigh asked, her back stiffening.
Noticing everyone’s reaction, Portia said, “He didn’t murder him, it was a fair fight.”
“Give us a moment in private,” Jacob said motioning for everyone to leave the fire.
The three got up and walked away, Leigh giving Portia a hard stare as she walked off.
“How did you husband get into an altercation with a Leviathan?” Jacob asked.
“My husband was…is a driver for The Collective. It was years ago, that’s all I know,” Portia explained.
“He wasn’t operating under orders to kill Leviathan was he?”
“No, not that I’m aware. Like I said, this was a long time ago,” Portia said, fear began to creep in as she realized she might have said the wrong thing.
“Do you recall the Leviathan’s name?”
“No, my husband doesn’t talk to me much about what he does on the road. Listen, I don’t want trouble. I was placed into slavery less than a week ago. I’ve seen horrible stuff and all I want is to find my husband if he’s alive and from there, go somewhere safe.”
Jacob raised his right brow and asked, “Drivers are highly respected. What did you or your husband do?”
“It’s a long story.”
“I’m all ears, I think you have time. We’re not going anywhere until nightfall,” Jacob said crossing his arms.
“Are you going to hurt me?” Portia asked thinking she might as well ask and wanting to steer the conversation away from the current topic.
“No. If we wanted you dead you’d be dead.”
“What do you plan on doing with me?” she asked.
“Don’t know yet, but I can tell you that we’re not heading anywhere close to The Collective. You’re more than welcome to walk out of here now, otherwise you’re coming with us. Unless we can drop you off on our way south.”
“You’re really leaving. You think this place is real?” Portia asked.
“I don’t know, but if we stay we’ll all end up dead. Everyone’s gunning for us now,” Jacob said.
“Why?”
“Because we aren’t beholden to anyone and we’ve been known to cause some problems for the elite. My team has caused quite a stir with our attacks against slavers. The powers that be don’t like that, hence why they’ve all joined a pact to have us all killed.”
“Do you have family?” Portia asked.
Jacob paused. He picked up a stick and began to poke the wood in the fire.
Sensing it was a sensitive question, Portia shifted the topic again. “I need to make contact with someone I know in The Collective, how can I do that?”
“I have a sat phone. You can make a call, you’ll need a clearing as this hillside and the heavy canopy cover will make it difficult to get a signal.”
“Jacob, Gunny here, we’ve got tangos to the north, I count fourteen. They look like Marshals,” Gunny radioed.
Jacob jumped to his feet and cried out, “Team up, grab your shit, we’re outta here in two.” He keyed his radio and replied to Gunny. “Estimated time to contact?”
“Ten to fifteen mikes, over,” Gunny answered.
“Copy. Get your ass down here Gunny, we’re leaving.”
“Roger that,” Gunny said and started down the hill towards them.
“Fuck this, I’m so tired of running. Can’t we just make a deal with these guys? I’m so over this shit!” Chef hollered as he raced to the truck.
“Who are these Marshal’s?” Portia asked now on her feet but unsure of what to do.
“They’re the corrupt lawmen of the Republic. While we’ve been tracking your truck and these Generates, they were tracking us. We’ve kept ahead of them by a day but somehow they’ve locked onto us. I thought we were safe in these hills, miles from any improved road,” Jacob explained. “Go get in the SUV, we’re leaving now.”