“Understood, Kitten.” he replies, his voice low and rough.
His eyes bore into me with a heat that I recognize. A hunger I’ve seen before. It reminds me of Ryan and it hurts in my heart like you wouldn’t believe. I haven’t let the thought sink in because it’s massively inconvenient and wholly unlike me, but it’s undeniable. I miss him.
I lower my hand. “Don’t.”
He grabs my hand before I can pull it back. He uses it to pull me forward over the table. I have to brace myself on my other hand so I don’t fall over. Suddenly my face is inches from his.
“Don’t what?”
I look him hard in the eye and shake my head firmly. “Don’t make it like this. We’re not like this, you and I.”
“Who’s to say we couldn’t be?”
“Me.”
He chuckles. It smells like honey, dripping and sweet. “Come on, Kitten. Don’t you ever get tired of being alone?”
“Are you gonna fix that for me, Vin? Are you gonna be with me and stay with me forever? Can you handle that?”
“Is that what you’re looking for?” he asks me, his voice and grip tightening. “The fairytale and forever after? Because I’ll break it to you now; it’s a myth. It always has been.”
“I’m not holding out for forever. I’d be happy with tomorrow but you can’t even promise me that so let’s stop this before it gets weird and we can’t come back from it.” I feel eyes on us and I look over his shoulder to see Caroline there in the doorway. Her eyes are livid. They’re promising me the eternity Vin can’t, only this one I imagine to be far less enjoyable. “And before your girlfriend gets the wrong idea.”
“My what?” He follows my eyes over his shoulder. When he sees Caroline he curses, clenching his hand and pinching mine in the process. I let out a small whimper of pain that makes him jerk his head back to me. “What’s wrong?”
“Let go of me.” I say, swatting at him. When he releases me I rub my hand, trying to ease the ache.
“What happened to your hand?”
“I got in a fight.” I grumble.
He raises an eyebrow in surprise. “Did you win?”
I glare at him. “Are you serious? Of course I won.”
“What happened?”
“A girl jumped me while I was sleeping. I punched her in the face. Then in the ear. Finally she went away.”
“Why?”
“Because I punched her.” I enunciate slowly.
“Why did she jump you?” he growls.
“No idea.” I say looking back at the doorway. Caroline is gone. She’s too short and the hair color is all wrong anyway. “But if it happens again, I’m finishing what she started.”
Four days after the attack I still haven’t found the girl who did it. I’m wondering if she’s hiding and her words about wanting me to find her were all talk. I cross paths with Nats and ask her to keep a look out on her shift but so far no luck there either. I’m beginning to think the chick is a magician and either escaped or has moved on to another Colony.
I take Nats and Vin’s advice. I start to make friends with the people in the kitchen. There are six of us in there during our shift, four women and two men. I find it surprisingly easy to talk to them, almost like they were waiting for me to give them the chance. And what do they want to hear about most from the girl from the outside?
The gangs.
“Is it true they eat people?” Steven, a portly forty-ish guy asks me.
He’s one of the very few people I’ve seen in the last decade with any kind of weight problem. I have a feeling it’s got a lot to do with the “tasting” that he does in here. He’s the head chef and rightly so. The man is a magician with water, carrots and thyme. I’m convinced he could make manure edible.
“Some of them do.” I say cautiously, cutting up apples. Endless amounts of apples for canning and eating and applesauce and apple bread and who knows what else. “Not all of them, though. As far as I know there’s only one gang that does.”
“Have you ever seen them?” Crystal asks. She’s about Steven’s age but whisper thin with hair almost as red as mine.
“Yeah, from afar. They look totally normal. Just like you and me.” I tell her, heading off the question I see coming.
People think that just because you eat someone you look like a freak. Not so. Serial killers were charming, upstanding members of society back when there was one and the cannibals in the wild are the same way. It’s the freakiest thing about them; their normalcy.
“Do they really keep Risen as pets?”
“Not that I’ve ever seen, but I’ve heard about zombie fights.”
“What, like boxing a zombie?” Steven asks, wrinkling his nose in disgust.
“No, like cock fights.”
“Oh. How do you get them to fight each other?”
I don’t answer. I don’t want to, not around all this food. How they do it… it’s disturbing. It involves masks. What the masks are made of is the key here. That is if it’s true, which it might not be. I actually really hope it’s not.
Amber, a brunette with bright eyes and a face that reminds me of Breanne, changes the subject. I’m eternally grateful.
“Is it true most guys in gangs are gay?”
I laugh so hard I almost cut my finger instead of the apple. Tears spring in my eyes. “Please ask Vin that. Please!”
Amber laughs as well, but blushes. She’ll never ask him but I don’t care. That moment in the kitchen is the best and brightest I’ve had in weeks. I feel like I’m doing Nats and Vin proud making friends. But for some reason Melissa pulls me out of the kitchen a few days later and gives me some terrible news.
It’s time for me to try my hand at sewing.
I wish they’d let me save us all the trouble and listen to me when I say that this is not my place. But Melissa isn’t hearing any of it.
“You’ll do great!” she beams, leading me through the building to where they store the machines and fabrics. “Everyone has hidden talents. You have so much potential but you’ve been robbed of the chance to experience it. We’re giving that back to you. It’s so exciting!”
I am not excited.
She continues to lead me toward the sewing room, which I think is odd. I know where it is because I saw it on the tour. I tell her as much but, again, she isn’t hearing it.
“I want to make sure you meet everyone and get settled in.” she insists.
She wants to make sure I show up is what it is and fair enough because, left unattended, I wouldn’t set foot in that room. As it turns out I’m glad I do. The second we walk in and all heads lift from their work to see who has arrived, I come face to face with my attacker.
The room is laid out long and narrow. A large loom that I imagine was part of an exhibit sits at the far end along with two ancient looking sewing machines, the kind from the old days that you pedaled with your feet instead of running on electricity. Most of the 10 or so women in here are sitting at long tables with baskets of fabric, pins, patterns and God knows what else in front of them but I only have eyes for one.
“Everyone, we have a newbie here.” Melissa sings, pulling me forward to put me on display. “This is Joss. She’s been through a lot of the outdoor jobs recently, staying out in the fresh air. She’s needed to take her time adjusting to the good life.”
She smiles at me as the room breaks into small chuckles.
I smile faintly, trying to look sheepish. “I’m blown away by having a hairbrush again. Everything else is a little overwhelming.”
More soft chuckles around the room. I can feel all eyes on me as they weigh me down with their pity. Melissa even whispers an “Oooh” and rubs her hand on my back. I resist the urge to shake free.