"We can handle that…" I said. Approaching people was always tricky. Though most were helpful, we had run into our fair share of undesirables.
Alex guided us over to the shore. Instead of dropping anchor, he tied us off to a tree.
"Susan, stay here with Bee."
"Gladly," she grumbled, stretching out her arms.
Alex handed her a knife. "If you hear our whistle, just cut the rope and get upstream as fast as you can. They'll expect us to go down."
Alex bagged a few different types of batteries and first aid items for trading. The canned food wouldn't go far, by now people had learned to grow for themselves. Those who hadn't were already dead.
Bee was napping again.
I threw a light blanket over her. "Keep her covered."
Susan settled down next to her, yawning. "We'll be fine. Take your time."
Alex and I disappeared into the woods, walking quietly, listening for others. Before long we heard the ominous sound of barking. Alex and I looked at each other, eyebrows raised. We would've liked to observe the camp before our presence became known.
I turned and let out a shrill whistle in the direction of Susan and Bee. Alex transferred his hunting knife to inside his boot and threw the sheath in the bushes just before the dog came crashing through, with the owners right behind him.
Chapter 8
The Captives
"Hands up. Turn around, slowly."
Alex and I obeyed, following the same protocol we might have ordered if strangers walked into our camp.
"Have any weapons on you?" All three men wore dirty overalls, no t-shirt underneath. The question was directed at Alex.
"None," Alex answered evenly.
"Search them."
The two that had yet to speak stepped forward, and patted us down. They didn't check Alex's boots. They never check the boots.
The first man didn't lower his guard. "How did you get here?"
"Came from upriver, and we saw your water filtration. We’re hoping to trade a few things."
The man eyed Alex. He was older, maybe early fifties, but he was well built. Taller than all of us, with wide shoulders. Two fingers were missing on his right hand, the stumps smooth and healed over, which meant it probably happened before Daybreak.
He turned to one of the men who had the same nose and the same sandy blonde hair. "Check it out."
I stepped toward the retreating man as he headed in the direction we came, toward Susan and Bee.
"Stop," the farmer commanded, reaching behind his back and producing a bow and arrow. He nocked it and took aim.
Alex stepped in front of me.
The farmer's bow and arrow wavered, then lowered. "We have to be careful, you understand."
I moved back to where I had been, hoping Susan had heard my whistle, and wouldn't be caught napping away. No matter what kind of men these were, if they saw our stockpile it was unlikely we'd be leaving with all of it.
The tension deflated, and Alex and I lowered our arms.
"What do you have to trade?" the farmer asked.
Alex gestured to our bags. "First aid supplies and batteries."
The farmer didn't even glance at the bag. "Got any food?"
Alex and I both looked at each other, confused.
"You don't need any food," Alex said.
The farmer's mouth tipped up in a half-smile, but before he could respond, his son came crashing back through. "No sign of more – and no boats." His chest heaved, out of breath.
The farmer raised his eyebrow at Alex.
"You understand," Alex said, "we have to be careful."
"Who was it you whistled to, just before we came?"
I rolled my eyes. Let's get on with it, people.
I moved out from behind Alex and spoke for the first time, "Something we need to protect – much as I believe you are doing. Now – are you interested in trading or not?"
The farmer snorted, that half-smile lighting up his face again. He rubbed the back of his neck, and looked at the two men behind him. "Well, come on then. Let me show you what we got."
We followed the three men deeper into the forest. Alex's knife still hidden in his boot, and my magic, were our only weapons. After pushing aside an insanely thick amount of foliage, we stepped into a clearing. There were five tents, some reinforced by sheet metal on one side, some with duct tape patched holes. Several gardens grew behind the tents, and behind that was the thicker forest again. The entire clearing wasn't more than 50 paces across.
As they led us closer toward the tents, women emerged. Ten in all; half had small children clinging to their legs. They wore clothes made of the thicker jean material. Cotton t-shirts didn't last very long in these conditions.
"How long have you all been here?" Alex asked, looking over the gardens and judging their growth with a practiced eye. You could normally tell the productivity of a commune by the health of their gardens.