Commodity (21 page)

I have to stop again as the memory floods my head: the broken branches, the crushed grass, and all the footprints near the row of hedges.  I remember the blood on the ground and the lingering smell of semen.

“There had…had been a struggle.  I was too late.  They already had her.  There were footprints coming from the back parking lot of a different building, but they only led back to an alley.  They must have left by the road, and there wasn’t any sign of them to follow.”

Katrina nods but says nothing.

“I looked everywhere.  For weeks, I barely slept.  I searched anywhere and everywhere, finding more survivors than I ever expected to find, but I never found a trace of her.  Every group I talked to was nothing but men, and none of them had even seen another woman since the attack.  It wasn’t until the second month that I found someone who thought he knew who Caesar was.  In the end, he didn’t have any idea where to look for him, though.  I’ve found similar leads since then, but they all end up going nowhere.”

“You’re still looking,” Katrina says.

“Yeah.”

“It’s hard to track someone after that much time.”

“It doesn’t matter.  She was depending on me.  I was supposed to keep her safe.  I won’t give up on her now.”

“Well, what do you know for sure?”

“Only where she isn’t.  Groups are becoming less informative all the time, which makes me think they’re protecting him now.  Either that or everyone is becoming more paranoid of strangers.  A lot of them seem to know who I am and what I’m going to ask before I say anything.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because Caesar’s got what they want—a woman.  He may even have more than one now.  They’ll protect him so they can…”

I can’t finish the thought.  Lifting the bottle to my lips, I take a gulp and swallow past the lump forming in my throat.  The fact is, I haven’t had anything that even remotely resembles a lead in months.  The only thing that makes me think Hannah is still in the area is the lack of cooperation from the few people I have found.

“I’m pretty good at putting puzzles together,” Katrina suddenly says.

I glare at her.  The vodka is definitely hitting my head now.  Everything is a bit swimmy, but her babbling pisses me off.  I don’t want to hear about her fucking hobbies.

“Well, if we come across a jigsaw, you’ll be the first to know.”  I rub my temples with my fingers.

“I meant,” she says, “maybe I can help you find her.”

I stare at her, trying to figure out where she’s going with this.  I can’t think of any way this young woman could help me unless she already knows something.

“How?”  My suspicions are raised, but I haven’t seen any signs that she’s tried to deceive me so far, so what could she be thinking?

“We did some trading with groups in the area,” she says.  “Well, my brother did, anyway.  I always had to stay out of sight.  Seth was afraid if they saw me…well, you know.”

“Yeah, I do.  Do you think he talked to someone who might know where I can find Hannah?”

“I don’t know,” she says with a shake of her head, “but my brother kept records.  He took notes on every group he came across when he was trading.  He’s got names, locations—everything.”

For the first time since I dragged myself back to the parking garage of the hospital to find her gone, I feel hope.

We wait until morning to leave, but I sleep very little.  The thought of finally having a direction—somewhere to at least look for a clue—has my adrenaline pumping.  By the time Katrina climbs out of the small bed, I’ve been up for an hour.

Katrina takes me to a ranch house on a flood plain right next to a river.  The river itself is barely a trickle now, but the house is well sheltered by the valley and trees and seems to be in good shape.

I follow her up two steps to the front door and then inside.  It’s not a big place.  It has that seventies energy-conservation vibe—small, compact rooms and windows barely large enough to crawl out of if you needed to.  She goes straight to a desk in the main living area and pulls out a thick, spiral-bound notebook.

She’s right—there are a lot of notes in her brother’s journal.  I glance through the first few dozen pages, and I’m amazed at the level of detail.

“How did he know to collect all this information?”

“Learned from my dad,” she says with a shrug.  “We were a big hunting and fishing family.  Dad could track anything and taught us a lot about being quiet and on the lookout.  Seth would stalk the camps for days before approaching them.  He’d get to know everyone’s names and what they did for the group, if anything.  He didn’t meet them in person unless he was sure they’d be open to trade and that they would have something we needed.”

“What did you have to trade?” I ask.

“Recipes.”

“What?”  I look at her sharply.  I couldn’t have heard that right.

“Recipes,” she says again.  “You wouldn’t believe how many of these guys are just eating beans out of a can for every meal.  They have no idea how to put foods together without a cookbook, and no one seems to be collecting those, but I do.”

“You traded cookbooks?”

“Not the books themselves,” she says.  “I’d write down the recipes that use only things that are pretty easy to find.  I found one that was from the Great Depression.  All the recipes were geared toward rationing and such.  I looked for ones that only included dry goods and ingredients that don’t spoil.  I kept the books to help me come up with new things to cook.”

“And people want them?”

“They eat them up.”  She laughs at her own joke.  “We could get batteries, lanterns, and propane for just a handful of them.  The problem is, there are only so many.  We had to keep finding new groups to trade with.”

“And they’re all in here?”  I hold up the notebook.

“Should be.”

I sit on the loveseat and start paging through the notebook, still impressed by the level of detail.  It’s the same kind of information someone would gather on a scouting mission in a warzone.  There are hand-drawn maps with landmarks, names of the people in the group, and their relationships to each other.  There’s information on what supplies they have on hand, what seems to be in surplus, and what they might be interested in obtaining.

There are several notes in the margins of the pages about a larger, hidden group somewhere on the west side of town.  Many of the people Seth talked with alluded to its existence, but there’s nothing to indicate that he found it.

More than halfway through the book, a paragraph catches my eye.

It’s a small group—only five altogether—and one is a woman.  She seems to know what she’s doing around a cooking fire.  There’s a guy with her who I think is her husband.  He’s got a wild red tip on the end of his beard.  Passing this group up—they won’t be interested in trading.

Chuck.

It has to be.

I go back to the previous page and check Seth’s map of the area.  If I’m right, and it is Chuck and Christine, they haven’t moved far from where we were originally.  They may have some idea where Caesar and Brett have ended up.

They could know where Hannah is.

“I have to go.”

“You found something?”

“Yes.”

“Well, let’s go!”

“No.”  I shake my head.  “Stay here.”

“What?”

“You should stay here where it’s safe,” I tell her.  “If people see you, there’s no telling what kind of fight I’ll have on my hands.”

“You really think I’m safer here alone than I am with you?”

“I know it’s more dangerous out in the open.  They aren’t as frequent now, but I saw the ships in the sky just three days ago.”

“I can’t live out the rest of my life being sheltered away!” Katrina snaps.

Her words sound so much like something Hannah would say, I’m caught a little off-guard.  My muscles tighten, and I’m torn between giving in—like I always did with Hannah—or insisting Katrina stay out of harm’s way.

What’s she going to do here?

If it is Chuck and Christine, and I’m almost certain it is, she might be better off staying with them.  It’s been a long time since I’ve seen them, but they were good people—I knew that from the day they joined us.

“I might not be able to protect you,” I tell her.

“I didn’t ask you to.”  She stands with her hands on her hips.

“Fine.”

*****

Following Seth’s map, I find the location fairly easily.  It is right next to Freedom Parkway and the Carter Center.  There is a large stone wall separating the park from the road, and much of it is still intact, providing ideal protection.  On the other side, one of the round buildings is still standing.  There’s also lots of tree cover and a lake nearby for water.

Nestled between the building and the lake, there’s an area that looks almost identical to the common area shared by our original group.  There’s a fire pit in the center, cooking pots all around it, a lean-to full of kitchen items and a tub for washing, and lawn chairs scattered about.  Despite the familiarity of the scene, I hang back and out of sight.

“What’s wrong?” Katrina asks.

“Shh.”  I hold my hand up to keep her back and out of sight.  “Just want to watch a minute.”

She crouches behind me and looks over my shoulder into the distance.  Someone has appeared near the edge of the common area, holding a compound bow.  Even before I see the red beard, I know Chuck’s stature.  He moves around to the fire and sets a couple of dead animals near it.  I think they might be rabbits.  I snicker softly.

“What is it?” Katrina asks.

“Never mind.”  I shake my head and smile.

A moment later, Christine appears.  She immediately starts yelling at him.

“Get those nasty things away from my pots!”

“We need the protein, babe!”

“And I said if you were going to cook them, you’re also going to clean them!”

“That’s what I was gonna do!”

“Not by my cooking pots, you aren’t!”

They continue to squabble as Marco and Sam appear on bicycles.  They ride up the sidewalk and then into the grass, propping the bikes up against the trunk of a tree.  They both have backpacks and start to empty their contents into large plastic containers close to the building.

“I hope you found toilet paper!” Christine says.

“No such luck,” Marco calls out, “but I got extra paper towels.  They’re the soft kind!”

“The skin of my ass is already falling off from the last batch you said was soft!” she yells back at him.

“Stop cooking so many beans,” Chuck suggests, and Christine chases him and his rabbits off with a spoon.

Marco and Sam take a few additional supplies and duck inside one of the buildings.

“Hang back here,” I tell Katrina.  “I’m going to make sure everything’s okay, then I’ll call you down if it’s safe.”

“I thought you knew all these people.”

“Not taking chances,” I say with a stern look.  “You stay put.”

“Fine.”  She drops onto her ass and glares at me.

I make my way down the hill and around the side of the building.  I stay at the corner, watching Christine for a moment, and then walk up to the fire.  Christine is focused on her work but sees me a minute later.

“Falk?”  Christine walks out from around the cooking fire, wiping her hands on a towel.  “Holy fuck, that is you!”

She runs over and wraps her arms around my neck, practically choking me.  I freeze for a moment, not sure what to do, then wrap one arm around her back and give her a quick hug.  She pulls back, leaving her hands on my shoulders as she looks me over.

“Where’s Hannah?”

I actually feel my organs drop lower into my body when I hear her question.  I close my eyes for a moment and try to keep myself together.

“Shit, Falk,” Christine whispers.  “Is she dead?”

“I don’t know.”  I take a step back, disengaging myself from her embrace.  “I was hoping you might have some idea.”

“I haven’t heard anything about either of you since you left,” she says.  “Honestly, I thought you were both dead.

“Ho-lee shit!”  Chuck jogs over to us and smacks me on the shoulder.  “Never thought I’d see you again.”

“You hungry?” Christine asks.  “Dinner will be ready pretty soon.  Let me get you something to drink.”

She runs over to the kitchen area and Chuck looks me over.

“You look like shit, man.”

“Thanks.”

“They went after you, didn’t they?” he asks.

I nod.

“What happened back at our original camp?” I ask.

“Well, when you two split,” Chuck says, “Caesar and Brett said they were going after you.  Said they were concerned for your welfare and all, but I called bullshit.  Brett was pissed at you, and there was no way he could have given a rat’s ass about your well-being.”

“Good call.”

“Caesar got all defensive, so I let it drop, but sometimes you just have a bad feeling, ya know?”

“Yeah, I know.”

“They’d been gone a couple of days, and shit, we didn’t know what happened to y’all.  They came back, then left again.  All those times, they kept getting together in little groups and talking all hush-hush like.  That shit made me nervous.”

“Us, too,” Marco says as he and Sam come around from the building to where we’re standing, nodding their heads.  “I never liked that Brett guy.  I was pretty glad when you pounded on him.”

“Yeah, that was sweet.”  Chuck laughs.

“Did they say anything to you?” I ask.  “Before they left, I mean.”

“They started coming up to me and asking why Christine and I didn’t have kids,” Chuck says.  “I told them it was none of their fuckin’ business, but they kept asking.  Then Brian said something about sharing, so I popped him in the mouth.  The next day, Ryan said he and Brian and the other guys were going off for supplies.  The rest of us talked it over and decided to split.  We took what we could carry and came here.”

“Have you seen any of them since?”

“Yeah,” Marco says, “a couple of times.”

“Where?”

“Sam and I went back a few times looking for supplies,” Marco says.  “I saw Caesar and Brett there along with a bunch of other guys I didn’t know, so I waited.”

“How long ago?”

“Oh, that’s been months.  They cleared out of there just a few weeks after you two left.  The last time I saw them, those spaceships flew by, so we took off.  We probably could have gone back, but Chuck didn’t want to chance it.”

“Any idea where Caesar and Brett went?”

“None,” Chuck says.  “Marco is right though—they have a bunch of other guys with them now.  Not sure where they came from, but they seemed like they were getting organized.”

A bunch of guys.

I remember Seth’s notes on a large group gathering somewhere.  How many?  Who are they?  What has Hannah had to go through?  My stomach turns.

“They got her, don’t they?” Chuck asks.

“Yeah,” I nod once, “they do.”

“Shit.”

“I’ve looked everywhere,” I say, “but I haven’t found any sign of them or her.  I did check back at the apartments, but it had been cleared out by then.”

“We don’t see much of anyone,” Chuck says.  “When they started talking shit about Christine, I thought it’d be best to keep our distance, ya know?  I’d fuckin’ die for her, but I’m realistic, too.  We focus mostly on making sure those ships can’t see our lights at night.  I mean, I can only do so much.”

I swallow and nod.  I know exactly what he means.

“Aw, shit, man,” Chuck says as he snaps his fingers.  “I should tell ya—I stole one of the guns out of your apartment—one of the shotguns.  Never seen those ships land or anything, but I wanted to be prepared.”

“That’s okay,” I tell him.  “You keep it.  I can only carry so many.”

“I think Caesar swiped the rest of them.  The ammo, too.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me.”   I take a deep breath.  “I really thought maybe you’d know more.”

“I wish I did, man.”

Christine returns and hands me a cup of iced tea without any actual ice.  It’s still pretty good.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome, hon.” Christine runs her hand over my arm in a motherly gesture.  “I wish I had some ice for it.”