She went on, “Are you going to have a hard time giving these kids up?”
Brock answered with a question of his own, “That depends. I mean, what’s going to happen next?”
The two stopped and enjoyed a nice view of a long-dead marina. The condition of the small yachts and luxury fishing boats there ranged from half-sunk to pristine.
She explained, “Assessment teams due down here tomorrow. They’re going to come through, register everyone, and ask a bunch of questions.”
“Register?”
“That’s right. To track the people who have been found or freed from slave camps.”
“Why? What’s the purpose?”
“Lots of reasons. First would be for medical needs. There aren’t that many doctors around, so the first thing is to identify any health issues like if you’ve been exposed to any communicable diseases. Like, if the chicken pox went through Wrightsville last year or something then they’d have to try and keep you guys from places where people haven’t been exposed. I guess. That type of thing. That and establishing what type of skill sets you and your people have.”
“Skill sets?”
“That’s to help them make a recommendation as to where you could best help out.”
Jim cocked his head to the side and said, “I don’t follow.”
“Well, no one gets paid to work these days. It’s all a question of everyone pitching in to help the war effort. You got some people out there doing some crappy jobs but it’s all they know or can do, so that’s how they pitch in. But if someone was a doctor or an engineer or worked construction back then, well, then there might be some special jobs you could work.”
“Wait, they’re going to tell me where I have to work?”
She shook her head. “No, it’s not like that. No forced labor. I think they give you a list of what they’d recommend and what’s needed. You then choose. Or maybe you choose nothing. But there aren’t any welfare programs anymore. The people who fight, work, or produce get the rations and the medicines first. Of course, there are lots of people who barter for stuff. They’re all over.”
He smiled a nervous smile. “Denise, she’s too young to get drafted, right? I sure wouldn’t want that. That’s no way for a girl to grow up.”
Nina’s brow grew taut again and she said, “Sure, she needs to learn how to walk in high heels and bake cookies first, right?”
Jim gulped and closed his eyes.
“Sorry. That came out wrong. No insult intended. This is still new to me.”
Nina relaxed her glare. “She is a little young to go into a military unit, but she’s not too young to learn how to protect herself. In fact, that’s way past due.”
An awkward silence came over the two, at first broken only by the call of seagulls, then eventually broke by Jim Brock’s wavering voice as he asked, “So, you’re just doing the target shooting today?”
“I want to keep this up for a while until she gets the hang of it. After that, I have some big plans for the rest of the day.”
His mouth widened, his eyes bulged, and he said, “You’re not thinking of taking Denise out to hunt down some monsters? Are you?”
“Relax, Jim, we’re going to do something really girlie-like. You’d approve.”
His cheeks turned a shade red.
She told him, “We’re going shopping.”
By the time they finished with target practice, Denise Cannon managed to knock a couple of cans off the railing. She required many more hours of practice before her aim would be satisfactory, but the novelty of the weapon faded, allowing the girl to focus on her marksmanship. Nina also made Denise disassemble and re-assemble the pistol.
With their day at the range complete, Nina fulfilled her promise to take Denise ‘shopping.’ Although the word ‘scavenging’ would be more accurate, ‘shopping’ sounded a lot more fun.
They took a Humvee with Odin the Elkhound and a large Rottweiler as escort. The two stopped first at City Hall where Nina checked in with the Hunter-Killer commanders who reported only minor scrapes with small predators.
Before leaving, they raided the commissary where Nina packed a couple of pork sandwiches and something akin to homemade potato chips. They fit nicely in a backpack which they opened a half hour later on a scenic lookout along the riverfront. The same riverfront that, ten days prior, Nina had cleared with the Hunter-Killer force.
Nina finished chewing a bite of the salty meat and asked, “So what are you shopping for today?”
The words felt awkward to Nina, as if she played some sort of game; maybe a variation of ‘dress up.’ She managed to suppress an urge to giggle.
“I really need to get some new duds. My stuff is so out of style,” Denise said and she sounded surprisingly serious.
“Out of style?” The thought amused Nina. “What’s in style these days?”
“Oh, lots of stuff. I mean, besides machine guns and black soldier outfits.”
Nina paused and looked self-consciously at the black BDUs she wore.
“Oh,” she said.
“Don’t sweat it,” Denise told her. “I’ve got us covered.”
Denise laid her sandwich on top of its wax paper wrapper, unzipped her own backpack, and produced copies of Glamour, Teen, and Mademoiselle magazines.
“See, I’ve got it all right here,” she said.
“Um, Denise, they’re a little out of date.”
“Well, like, duh. We’re not going to find clothes in the stores that were made since five years ago either, now are we?”
Nina shrugged and conceded the point.
“So what do they say?” Forest asked as she took another bite.
Denise opened one of the magazines and flipped through the pages full of color pictures of gorgeous models showing off fashions from the days when said models occupied a higher rung on the food chain.
Denise pointed to one summer dress. “I think you’d look hot in that.”
Nina nearly gagged on her food.
“H-hot? I don’t think I’ve ever looked hot, Denise.”
Still, Nina leaned closer to look at the photo.
“Well don’t worry,” the eleven-year-old told her. “I’m here to help you with that.”
“So I teach you to shoot and you’re going to help me look ‘hot’?”
Denise nodded, “You got it.”
Nina peered at the model wearing the dress and said to Denise, “She looks familiar. I think that’s an old movie star. Check the photo caption, what’s it say?”
Denise squinted and tilted her head. Her lips moved, but no sound came out. She leaned close to the page, ran a finger over the sentences, and then said, “It doesn’t…it doesn’t really say who it is.” She then flipped through several pages very fast.
Nina watched the girl who kept her eyes planted on the magazine.
“Wait a second,” she finally figured it out. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking. You don’t know how to read, do you?”
Denise shot, “I can read, sure I can, just not very well.”
Nina put her sandwich down and threw an arm around the little girl. She gave her a good hug.
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Denise. You spent your school years running and hiding from monsters. Just trying to stay alive. Hell, you’re smarter then any kid I knew when I was your age. You just didn’t get the chance to learn stuff like that. Like reading.”
“I’m sorry,” Denise said dejectedly.
“Hey, hey, you don’t have to be sorry. What’s with this ‘sorry?’ Listen, you were-what? — six years old when this started. But don’t worry, we’ve got schools.”
“Not around here we don’t,” Denise pointed out.
Nina told her, “There’ll be schools down here soon enough, once we’ve got these lizard-aliens beat. There is a small elementary school and even a high school back where I live.”
“Where do you live?”
“Annapolis. That’s up in Maryland along the Chesapeake Bay. I live in an old hotel with a bunch of other military people. Got a little place there. Nothing special.”
“I bet it’s neat.”
“The town is really neat. Parts of it are hundreds of years old but they don’t look old. They just look neat.”