The tub loses a bit of its charm once I think about my sister. I soak for a minute longer, and then use the soap to methodically scrub at my limbs and hair. I wash several times, until my arms no longer streak with dirt when the water runs down them, and my hair feels tangly and squeaky with cleanliness.
By the time I finish, I can hear the guards outside the door talking in low voices, as if they don’t want me to hear. I wrap the towel around my body and tiptoe forward to listen at the door, but I can’t make out what they’re saying. Crap. I want to know about the five other girls. The bait thing.
I want to know what’s going on.
I fold my filthy clothes as delicately as I can, because I want to take them with me when I go home. I refuse to allow ‘if’ to creep into that statement. I will be going home. I examine the ‘dress’ I’ve been given and have to turn it over twice before I figure out which way it goes. It’s an odd piece of clothing, little more than a square of fabric with arm holes and a neck cut into it. Why on earth would they want me to wear it?
This entire set-up reeks of weirdness.
With nothing else to do, I sit on the edge of the tub and wait, staring at the door.
With my hands free of cuffs, I could escape. Maybe. Providing I can get past the dozens of guards that seem to be swarming the barracks…where would I go? Fort Dallas is small, and someone would be all too willing to sell me out again for a bit of reward money. I can’t go back home with a price on my head.
But what’s my other option? Leave the city? Let them exile me like they want? I’ll die for sure. The Scavenge Lands are empty for a reason—no one can survive there any longer without protection. Sometimes protection comes in the form of a group, sometimes a building. I’ve been told there are maps that can show you a safe route between forts…for the right price. Without it? You’re on your own, and the dragons are especially bad in the north, or so the rumors say. I’ve never gone farther than Fort Dallas. No one does. You find a place that’s safe, and you stay. Plus, I’ve always had Amy to worry about, and now my friend Sasha. Poor Sasha. Trouble seems to follow her even more than me.
I’m stuck, like it or not. I can’t abandon them. I hate that I’m being screwed over for something everyone does. Do they think no one scavenges but me? Bullshit. Everyone does, because there’s never enough food to go around, and the only job that a woman with no connections can get is on her back. I won’t do that, so I scavenge. It’s so ridiculous to be arrested for it that it almost feels like a set-up.
After a moment, there’s a polite knock at the door. I stand, my clothes tucked under my arm.
The guard pops his head in, and he glances around the room, then at me. “You done?”
I bite back a sarcastic retort. “Done.”
He nods and enters the room. “Hands back out, please.”
The cuffs again? Damn it. I set my clothing down on the sink and then obediently hold my arms out. “What’s going to happen to my clothes?”
“You can come pick them up later.”
That…was not the answer I expected. “Really?”
“Yup. Captain’s orders. After tonight, you can go.”
That sounds too good to be true. I gaze up at him, but he won’t look me in the eye, and that gives me a weird feeling. “What happens tonight?”
He says nothing. Not good. Whatever it is that’s going down with me and bait girls? It’s bad. That’s why they won’t talk to me. I lick my dry lips and nod toward my folded clothes, even though I’m getting the sinking suspicion that I’ll never see them again.
The guard takes my things and tucks them under his arm, and the moment we go into the next room, he dumps them on a table…next to five neat little piles of clothes and shoes, still waiting for their owners.
The knot in my throat feels huge.
He looks over at me and sees my gaze is fixed on the table. A look like shame crosses his face, and then he grabs my arm again. “Come on. Captain’s waiting.”
The guard leads me along through the warren of the Fort Dallas Militia barracks. The captain’s talking to one of his men near the door, both of them kitted out in old riot gear, including helmets and vests. They look at me as I arrive, and the captain nods slowly.
He’s staring at me a little too hard. It’s uncomfortable, so I try to make light of the moment by pretending to curtsy in my stupid shift dress. See? I’m not all bad. Sure, I may be a no-good thief, but I’ve got a sense of humor.
“Red hair,” is all the captain says. “That’s…interesting.”
Self-conscious, I run a hand through my messy snarls of hair. I guess I keep it pretty dirty. Not exactly like there’s a spa in Fort Dallas that I can lounge at all day and give myself makeovers. “Why does my hair color matter?” They did say I wasn’t going to be whoring for the soldiers. I hope that hasn’t changed.
Then I think of those five sets of clothing and shudder inwardly. Maybe I should hope it has changed.
“You’re right. It doesn’t matter.” The captain’s tone is curt. He nods at the man behind me. “Gear up and let’s go. We’re leaving.”
“Do I get gear?” I ask.
“No. But I do ask that you put your hood up.”
Lovely. “I’m sure it’ll be plenty of protection,” I say sarcastically, staring pointedly at his helmet. Fuck being nice to these jerks. “So where are we going?”
He gives me a thin smile. “To a place you’re very familiar with.”
Uh oh.
3
CLAUDIA
I’m not surprised when our small party—me and six armed militiamen, including the captain—head through the metal scrap barrier that surrounds Fort Dallas. I’m a little surprised they’re all toting automatic weapons, because those aren’t much good against dragons, and it’s kind of overkill for scavengers. But I guess they feel better with some sort of gun.
Everyone’s silent as we leave the city. Of course they are; it’s a death sentence. They’re watching me head to an invisible gallows in the heat of the day instead of sneaking away under the cover of night for a scavenge run. The heavy metal barrier creaks and groans as we pass through the gate, but after that, it’s just silence. Nothing but wind and quiet as we head out onto the littered landscape of the scavenge lands.
No one’s supposed to be out here. There are protected greenhouses in Fort Dallas, and a small herd of animals kept in the parking garages. We’re supposed to be self-sufficient, but everyone knows that’s a joke. Sometimes there’s a good herd of game animals passing through, or a few wild cows that wander too close, and people sneak out. There are hidden passages in the wall, car doors that aren’t welded shut and allow a person to snake through to the other side. Sometimes it’s not just game we’re after, since anything and everything sells on the black market.
I know this area. I know every crack in the pavement, the grass growing up through old sidewalks and the trees sprouting in storm drains. I’m one of the scavengers who sneaks through, because between me and Sasha and Amy, it’s hard to scrape together enough to eat. You have to scavenge. There’s no way around it. Not just for old canned goods that expired years ago, but for wild plants that look edible, for fruit that hasn’t been eaten to the pit by birds.