Page 39 of All Your Days
“I ‘member what it’s like. You get yourselves fed and watered good.” Shelly at least talks to us, with a wide and warm smile. “Keep yourselves safe out there.”
The sun is hotter than it’s been in days as we take the refilled wagon back to the hotel to lock it away so we can go back to the pub for lunch. I’m sweating bullets under my shirt—I swear I can feel it dripping down my legs like I pissed myself. No wonder why no one around here apart from the armymen bothers with pants and long sleeves. If I wasn’t too scared I’d cook my skin to a jerky under the sun, I’d cut my pants into shorts like I’ve seenothers do ‘round The Facility. Moby would kill me if I came into the Labs like that, though.
It’s just as hot in the pub. I can’t stand it anymore, and when we’re settled in our seats I untie the knot securing my scarf and unwrap it from around my face and hair. Instantly I feel a million times better—that is until Jacob’s hot glare replaces the sweltering heat of the face covering.
“Leave it alone.” Lou whispers harshly across the table. “You’re drawin’ more attention than he ever would.”
It’s petulant, but I can’t help feeling happy that at least Jacob is looking at me again. That is until he grumbles something about getting our food and goes to the long bar to order, getting caught up with people he knows from previous trips when he does.
Malcolm and Ryan chat about the weapons table at the trading tent and Lou and Cale talking about their shared connections back at The Facility. Apparently, they share a cousin, not an uncommon occurrence back home. We’ve received fewer and fewer newcomers over the years as the settlements became more stable, so everybody is loosely connected somehow. I’ve heard the scientists in the Labs talk about it and needing to bring in new blood.
With everyone else occupied, I have nothing to keep myself from daydreaming. Usually, that would be great, but it just means I end up replaying last night over and over in my head—every glorious detail—until I’m squirming in my seat, hard as a rock with Lou on one side, and Ryan on the other.
“Ah, fuck.” Malcolm smacks the table. There isn’t any need to ask ‘what’; the loud jeering of the Blue Creek crew entering the pub is enough explanation.
There’s probably only a dozen of them, but they seem to take over the place. Within seconds, Jacob is back at our table,shoving Ryan along the seats at the almost round table so he can sit next to me instead.
“Food won’t be long. We’ll just eat and go.” Jacob mumbles, no doubt regretting putting his gun away with the others when we locked away the trade wagon. Guns aren’t allowed in the pub anyway, but knives are. Most everyone has at least one strapped to their hips. It’s meant to keep us safe if we’re attacked by a zombified. But the person who flips would also have a knife. If they have enough sanity left in their brains to think, you’re just up against an enraged zombie with a knife.
Not a great position to be in.
Rather like me, right now, without a wall behind my back. There wasn’t any other table free when we arrived and now it would be too obvious to move to one of the ones that’ve suddenly become clear.
Despite Jacob’s promise that food won’t take long, it takes longer than it does for the Blue Creek crew to notice us. It’s not me who gets their attention. It’s Malcolm, Ryan, and Cale that do us in.
“Hey! You three! I remember you!” One of the men crows, stumbling heavily in our direction.
In a hemp shirt, fringed goat skin vest and goat skin pants, he must be hot as shit, even if the pants are cut off just above the knee. His nose is pierced, I can’t help but notice. Right through the middle and fitted with a thick silver ring, and there’s even three piercings in each eyebrow. Most of the Blue Creek crew are dressed similarly in goatskin but the drunk stumbling towards us definitely has the most piercings; the others seem to have kept to one or two.
Malcolm and Cale’s hissed curses would be funny in pretty much any other situation, but now it just means we have the Blue Creek crew coming to join us.
“Yeah! They’re the fellas from the tables!” Another slurs—I swear they are still drunk from last night. If they stopped drinking at all, it must’ve been around breakfast. “Wanna ‘nother game?”
We’re surrounded on all sides. This close, I notice that there are actually a couple of women in their crew, their hair cut in the same jagged styles as the men.
“Nah, mate. Just grabbing some grub, then we’re outta here. Gotta get back.” Ryan leans back on his chair, tipping it on its rear legs. He gives the nearest one, the one that suggested the game, a friendly smile.
Me? I’m panicking. Hard. My stomach knots have tiedthemselvesin knots. Fucking hell, I want nothing more than to inch closer to Jacob. That’s not possible, though. Well, I don’t think it is, so I keep my arse planted where it is.
“That’s right!” Another guy with unnecessary buckles attached randomly to his vest, gasps in mockery. “You lot are from that Facility place, right?” He digs the woman next to him hard in the ribs and jabs a hand at Jacob. “Shoulda known. You fellas are always right up yaselves, youse are.”
The woman snickers, even though nothing even close to funny was said, and nods, eyeing up Jacob like a juicy hunk of meat. And now I want to get closer to him for entirely different reasons.
Today is giving me a headache.
The heavily pierced one makes his way around behind me, snatching up a chair from another table. He spins it so he’s straddling the back of the seat, planting himself so close that one of his knees wedges itself between Lou and me.
Hovering over my shoulder, his breath smells like something crawled in his mouth and died last night. If I had to guess, I’d say the thing that died was his dignity.
“Hey! Hey!” He whispers, distracting me from the icy standoff between Jacob and Buckles, and the other guards and Lou making wary conversation with the people crashing our table. “Hey!”
Piercings keeps going, even though I’m ignoring him. Not taking the hint, he grabs my shoulder, giving me a little shake. I was already nervous as hell, but the unexpected touch has me jumping out of my skin, and the Blue Creek crew laugh mockingly at my sketchiness.
“Hey! Can you not hear or sumfin?”
Jacob’s hand moves slyly to his knife, but Buckles notices, casually mirroring the movement. Well, fuck.
I turn to face Piercings. The move, at least, gives me a cover for shimmying closer to Jacob. Mostly for my comfort, but I’d be lying if I didn’t admit it was for Jacob’s, too.
