Kane was cold, distant cruelty. There was no warmth, no security, no hope.
He didn’t answer my question, just walked past me, expecting me to follow. “You need to stay by my side. At all times.”
I obeyed, but only because of his previous threat against Hendrix, Vaughan and Nelson. We walked out toward the town, leaving the school behind us. The roads were in good shape here, but there were no cars or trucks driving on them.
People milled about everywhere. There were people working in stores, and people walking in and out of them. There were men and women standing in line for what seemed like a table passing out food rations. There were kids playing in the streets with soccer balls and jump ropes. They were civilized society and they were not in any way living in fear of the Feeder threat.
Although that might have had something do with the armed men on every single corner and rooftop.
Kane gestured to the rooftop of the closest building and warned, “If you try to run, Reagan, they will shoot you.”
I despised the way he said my name, how it rolled off his tongue with intimate familiarity.
“The threat against my friends was clear enough, Kane,” I spat out.
Seeming satisfied, he explained, “We have men everywhere, all over the town and all over the surrounding forests. We live in relative peace and quiet here because we exterminate the threat of Zombies before they ever reach us. Our people live in houses and participate in civilized society. My father is reclaiming this country for us. Every day we clear more land, claim more property for humanity.”
There were parts of this place that seemed right to me, that seemed good. But it was like everything that these people touched and made their own was twisted with some kind of malicious evil. The Zombie problem needed to be cleared permanently, not dragged into the middle of something that could be good and put on display like a macabre trophy case.
Still, I had questions to ask, “do you use currency?’
Kane shook his head, “We trade work for necessities. Work earns you credits, credits buy you whatever you need or want. The more you work, the more you have. The same goes for housing. The job you choose determines the kind of housing you own. It determines your status in the community. It decides how much influence you have in meetings.”
We walked along an idyllic sidewalk, with quaint little shops rising on either side of us. People smiled and greeted Kane warmly and he returned everything with a head nod or small smile. His hand on my lower back guided me along and I felt the warmth of his hand all the way to my spine.
The women looked at me curiously and the men eyed me hungrily and all the while Kane gave me his undivided attention. He brushed off those seeking him out for conversation and ignored those that he could without being obviously rude. But in all the people we passed I never found a girl my age. They were older, or they were younger. There was no community of twenty-something girls that were around Kane’s age.
This realization was alarming for a few different reasons- most of all was understanding for his interest in me. Dang it.
“What’s top of the food chain?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” he smiled at me.
“Best job, what is it? Who gets the best houses? The most food? The most votes?”
“My father,” he grinned like he was telling a joke.
“And then?”
“Soldiers,” he sobered a little when he realized he wasn’t charming me. “Anyone who patrols gets the best of everything. We risk our lives to keep peace.”
“Well, that’s what I want to be then,” I announced decidedly. Mostly I was testing the waters.
He led me along, past the stores and into a residential area. Huge trees towered over us and created a canopy over the quiet street. Some houses were clearly occupied and some obviously empty. But I couldn’t argue with the fact that the people did look happy- they looked like they felt safe.
“You can’t be a soldier, Reagan,” he explained. “Only our men fill those rolls.”
“And then women remain co-dependent on their protection and abundant supplies? I forgot that you own your women here; they are as much property as they are people, right?”
“It doesn’t have to be that way.” We came to a stop in front of a two story white house with black shutters. A wide porch wrapped around the front of the house and disappeared around the side. There was a quaint walkway up to the house and the yard was wide and well taken care of as it turned green with spring. I looked up at the house- clearly the biggest one in this area and realized this was Kane’s home.
“But it is,” I argued. “This is your house. I’m your ration?”