“Well, that nightmare is over. You’re safe and sound with us now, sweetie. Girls, let’s make her feel at home, alright? Who would like to show her the ropes?”
All hands in the room rise eagerly. All but one. I look at my attacker and watch as she tentatively raises her hand, obviously not sure about being in close quarters with me. But if she doesn’t raise her hand like everyone else it will look suspicious and the sheep mentality of this joint rolls over me hard in a hot, smothering wave.
I have got to get out of here.
“Lovely, thank you!” Melissa cries, happy to see everyone so eager to take me on. She gestures to the group and smiles at me. “Take your pick.”
I pick the hesitant girl with the fading yellow bruise around her eye.
She’s about twenty five or so, petite and kind of mousy. I’m pretty surprised she felt confident enough to take me on. My left shoe weighs more than this girl.
She watches me closely as I walk toward her and sit down slowly at her end of the table. I’m sitting directly beside her specifically to make her nervous. I’m in her peripheral but there’s nothing separating us, there are sharp scissors in her basket only a foot away from me and I’m a big angry unknown for her.
I smile warmly, extending my hand to her. “I’m Joss. What’s your name?”
“Lexy.” she murmurs.
“Not gonna shake my hand, Lexy?” She doesn’t answer. “Probably smart. I have a pretty brutal handshake. Nice eye, by the way.”
“Nice right hook.” she replies, turning to look at me.
I smile again. “I have a lot of practice.”
“That answers my question then.”
“What question? Whether or not I can kick your ass?”
She shakes her head, looking away. “I wasn’t looking for a fight.”
“You grabbed my face in the dark while I slept. If not a fight, then what were you looking for?”
Lexy glances down the table nervously. I look as well and catch all eyes on us. They quickly go back to their work.
“I was looking for you.” Lexy whispers.
I frown. “Why?”
“There are rumors that one of you in the group that just arrived was living alone on the outside.” She leans in closer to me. I think it’s a brave move because I don’t like it. At this point, even I don’t know how I’m going to respond to her. “A lot of people think it was that girl Nats but I’ve always thought it was you.”
“Why does it matter?”
“Because you know stuff. Stuff that isn’t filtered by the gangs or… other people.” she replies as though it were obvious.
Now I’m intrigued. “What stuff am I supposed to know?”
“How’s it going, girls?” Melissa asks, appearing out of nowhere.
“Great.” Lexy says with a buoyant smile. She’s good at turning on the happy, a lot like Vin, and I remind myself to be wary of her. “We were just talking. Getting to know each other. What pattern do you want me to teach her?”
“Something simple to start. I don’t think she’s going to be much of a seamstress, right, Joss?”
Her sweet tone makes my skin itch. Do they teach that tone here? The pitch of the voice that rides in your veins and vibrates at a frequency that makes you feel like you’re ready, willing and able to murder puppies in front of children? What kind of jacked up witchcraft is that? It’s like the devil’s brown note.
“Dead friggin’ on, Mel.” I tell her happily. “I’m better at ripping things apart than putting them together.”
Melissa smiles tightly as she retreats to the doorway. She stands watching the room but really she’s watching me. I’m pretty sure that ripper comment is going to get back to Caroline which means it will probably get back to Vin and I’ll get another lecture. Woo. Hoo.
“So this pattern is for a children’s t-shirt. It’s the easiest one we have.” Lexy says, pulling out material and laying it in front of me.
“That’s great.” I say, pushing it aside. “What stuff do you think I know?”
“Nothing.” she mutters, glancing at Melissa. “It’s not a good time.”
“You must have thought I knew something good if it was worth sneaking up on a girl from the wild while she was sleeping. So what was it?”
She doesn’t answer me. I sigh. I’d rather she wanted a fight. This is annoying.
“Why are we making children’s shirts?” I ask, examining it. There’s a lot of letters and symbols all over this thing but none of it means anything to me. “I haven’t seen a single kid here.”
“Not in this Pod, but there are children in others. They grow so fast, go through clothing so quickly we all help make things for them.”
“That’s what you guys call each other? Pods?”
“Yeah. What—“ She takes a breath. “What do you call us on the outside?”
“Colonies.” I say with distaste. “You’re all the same thing to us.”
“How many are there?” she asks, her voice barely audible.
“How many of what are there? What are you asking?”
“How many Pods? How many Colonies are there?”
“How should I know? Three I think, though probably more.” I say, surprised by the question. “Wait, do you not know? How do you not know?”
Her eyes dart to Melissa as she fiddles with the pattern absently. “They don’t tell us.”
“That’s weird.”
“They don’t tell us a lot of things.”
That, I think, is not so weird. This Colony is smaller by far than the other two in the stadiums and I wonder if they’re the only ones kept in the dark. Are there larger Colonies somewhere else that keep secrets from the stadiums?
“Did they tell you that the zombie population was almost gone a couple months ago?” I ask casually, taking a gamble.
She freezes, her brows pinching in confusion. “That’s impossible. Have you seen how many Risen are outside?”
“Yeah and it’s nuts compared to downtown. Up until recently when one of your Pods fell, the Risen weren’t even much of a problem.”
Lexy stares at me, her eyes suddenly sharp. “What makes you think a Pod fell recently? How recently?”
I study her face and I wonder how far I should go with this conversation. Twice now I’ve seen how quickly this girl can flip the switch and become someone else when the need is there. I wonder if I’m seeing the real her now or if this is all an act to draw me out. To find out what I know about their operation. Maybe she, Mel and Caroline are the best of friends and I’m sewing with the enemy here.
I push the pattern across the table toward her and sit back in my chair. “Why don’t you go ahead and show me how to make that shirt now?”
Vin shakes his head. “That’s not a shirt.
“It is too a shirt!” I cry indignantly. “Nats, tell him it’s a shirt.”
Nats, who is just waking up and enjoying a rare moment with us, sighs warily. “Honey, it’s not even close.”
“What? Yes it is. It has a neck and sleeves. I worked really hard on this!”
“Put it on then.” Vin challenges.
I scowl at him. “It’s a child’s shirt. I can’t fit in it.”
“Too many waffles.”
“Excuse me?!”
He pulls the shirt from my hands and holds it up in front of me. “Show me where the kid’s arms fit through.”
I roll my eyes. “They fit through the sleeves, here and her—ah hell.”
I’ve sewn the sleeves shut.
“Do you see why it’s not a shirt now?”
“Shut up.” I mutter, snatching the shirt back from him.
Despite our awkward moment, Vin and I have fallen back into our regular routine. Caroline must have been thoroughly reassured of his affection for her (a thought that makes me ill) because she hasn’t given me the murderous look she did in the cafeteria. She still hates me, that much is clear, but she looks at me more like she wants to end me quickly as opposed to dancing in my blood.