“I spent all fucking day yesterday doing inventory. Get someone else to do it.”
“Everyone’s got their jobs, asshole. This one is yours for now. Choosing day is tomorrow, so maybe you’ll get something else. For all your bitching, you’ll probably draw brown.”
“I don’t know why we’re not allowed to trade.”
“Because everyone would want to do the same things. Now stop with the butt-hurt and get shit done.”
“This fucking sucks.”
“Feel free to get the fuck out, then. You wanna try to live out there on your own again? You’re welcome to it.”
“Caesar thinks he can order everyone around.”
“Caesar controls the pussy. You want pussy? Do your damn work.”
My hands start to shake. I close my eyes and resist the urge to leap over the crates and beat both of them to death. Collecting myself isn’t easy, and it takes me several moments to calm myself enough to focus again.
“There’s a whole skid of canned goods out by the main entrance. Let’s go get it.”
The two of them leave, and I shove against the crate in front of me until the opening is large enough to squeeze myself through it. The large room is full of shelves, all stacked high with supplies. I look around briefly before heading to the door and peering out.
The storehouse opens up into a large green area. There’s a fountain in the middle of it and small stations set up all around the fountain. There are water jugs at one of them, and two men stand there, refilling water bottles from the jugs. To the left of the water, there’s a table full of canned goods. A man stands behind the table and collects something from each person who comes up to him—I can’t tell from here what it is—and then hands them a variety of cans.
There are other stations—one for batteries and propane, another for paper goods. They circle the fountain and look much like the marketplaces I recall seeing in many small villages when I was overseas.
And there are men.
Dozens and dozens of them.
I’ve seen plenty of small packs of people as I’ve searched for Hannah but nothing even close to the number of people here. There have to be at least a hundred of them out in the open and who knows how many sheltered away in the surrounding structures. All men.
I still haven’t seen any women. I look back and forth, but I still see nothing but men in the area.
Enough that I might not be noticed.
I step out of the door and into the common area, turn to the left, and walk with purpose. I look around with my eyes, but keep my head forward and my pace steady. I pass several people, but no one takes notice of me. There are several small buildings, made mostly of plywood, but they’re well constructed and even have gutters with barrels to collect the rain.
“Right this way, gentlemen. The stable is just over here.”
I know the voice immediately and have to resist the urge to draw my weapon. I slow my pace and glance sideways to see Brett walking with the two men I’d followed to the entrance. Changing my course slightly, I keep behind him as he approaches one of the small structures and opens the door.
“We have a couple options for you guys, so there’s no need to wait.” Brett leads them out of my sight through a door guarded by two armed men.
The front of the plywood building looks much like a house with no windows. The guards out front are the only thing that sets it apart from other, similar structures. I pass them by without a look and then glance around to make sure no one is looking in my direction before I veer off and head around the back of the building. I have to turn sideways to make it past the rubble wall behind me. I can’t see or hear anything from the back, so I move slowly to the corner.
Around the side of the structure, there’s light coming from a crack in the wall where two pieces of plywood don’t quite line up. I check again to make sure no one is watching me and then duck behind a rain barrel and crouch low.
Looking inside, I can see the entrance and most of the main room. There’s a large couch against the wall and an opening on the far side that leads into another room I can’t see. There are two women inside in short, tattered dresses. One has long, dark hair and the other has closely-cropped brown hair.
Not Hannah.
Brett grabs one of the girls by the arm and pulls her close to the older man.
“How does this one strike ya?”
“She’s fine…real fine.” He makes a show of walking around her, running his hand over her backside and then up her arm. “Can I take her back to the barracks?”
“No, sir,” Brett says as he shakes his head. “There’s a couple of rooms right here. You can use one of those. Just remember there’s always someone out front, so don’t get too rough with them. You aren’t the only customers tonight!”