In disbelief, Tamsyn let herself be put in the passenger side of her own truck, squeezed between the man who’d stolen her blaster and another man who she recognized as one of Jonny’s close friends. He was a mechanic at the garage. She managed to scoop up the second small blaster she’d brought for Sally off the seat and hide it in her boot while the men were getting last minute instructions from Jonny. It wouldn’t be enough to get her out of here, not with all the armed men surrounding her, but it might come in handy in the near future. She hoped no one was going to search her once she reached the Fafield house.
Maybe Mrs. Fafield could talk some sense into Jonny where detaining Tamsyn was concerned.
The drive across town took forever with all the burned out and abandoned vehicles in the streets and Tamsyn was on edge. The man on the other side of her was a stranger and his hands kept creeping onto her thigh. She’d shove them away but kept scooting closer to the mechanic who finally said to the other guy, “Knock it off. She used to be Jonny’s girlfriend and I’m guessing he isn’t going to like you being handsy with her. There’s plenty of other women at the compound.”
His words had the desired effect on the stranger as he grunted and didn’t bother Tamsyn again, but the incident eft her seriously worried about what kind of situation she was getting into.
The Fafield mansion had been surrounded by fences but now those had been reinforced and there was a gate manned by at least ten individuals with guns. Her truck was waved through and soon they drove up the big circular driveway to the house itself. It was a sprawling building, which had been added onto many times over the years since the time of the First Settlement. There were armed men on the roof, guards at the door and vehicles coming and going. The stranger opened the truck door and climbed out, holding out his hand to her. “Come on, girlie.”
“Best go on,” the mechanic said, not unkindly. “The lady at the front desk’ll get you checked in and assign you a job and a cot.”
In disbelief she slid out of the truck and was escorted inside by the burly stranger, who turned her over to a guard with a parting word in her ear, “I’ll see you in the tent soon.” It was clearly said as a threat but the comment made no sense to Tamsyn.
To her relief the stranger hastened outside in response to a honking horn. Through the open door she watched her truck being driven away and figured she should write it off as permanently lost.
A woman she didn’t know was seated at a desk which had been arranged in the middle of the vast foyer.
“Name?” she said in a tired voice.
“Tamsyn Wendover but I’m not staying,” she said. “As soon as Jonny gets back I’ll straighten out this misunderstanding with him and be gone.”
The woman stared at her for a moment and then laughed. “You’re the one with the misunderstanding. Once someone joins us here, they stay. And work. Where you from?”
“Outside Rosewater.”
“Not too many of you left,” her interrogator said. “I’m from the city myself. All right here’s your room assignment—I’ll figure out a job for you later. Check on the assignment board in an hour or so. You’re on the third meal shift.”
The guard took Tamsyn by the elbow and conducted her upstairs to one of the big guest bedrooms, which now held cots set up barracks-style. She’d be sharing the room with ten other people. He left her there.
As soon as he was gone, she stuck her head out the door and found the corridor empty. She emerged from the room and set out to explore the house and find a way out, if she could. Failing that she was going to search for Mrs. Fafield and enlist her help. She and the matriarch had had a good relationship while she was dating Jonny years ago and she was confident she could persuade the lady to let her go. She could offer to bring in supplies from the ranch perhaps. By the looks of it Jonny had more people here than he could handle. As she walked through the house, no one challenged her although the guards stationed at each door to the outside gave her menacing frowns when she ventured too close. Tamsyn was depressed at the lack of familiar faces so when she reached the kitchen and found Devora Sims in charge, she was elated.
She and Devora had bad blood between them going years back—Tamsyn wasn’t even sure she remembered the original insult or incident—but things had changed. “Need help?” she asked hopefully.
“Hells, yes, if you’re offering. We’re cooking and serving constantly,” Devora said, handing her a bowl of unwashed tubers. “Peel these and set them to cook.”
“Have you seen Mrs. Fafield?” Tamsyn asked as she set to work on the vegetables.
“You really are out of touch.” Devora’s laugh was scornful. “She died in the first wave, when the authorities were med evacuating people out. The family paid for a private medical flyer to take her to the city but it didn’t matter. She was gone two days later. All her credits in the family bank and her high and mighty airs didn’t help her. Not one bit.”
Tamsyn was afraid to ask her next question but forced herself. “How about Sheriff Davis?”
“Died from a bullet to the head out on the southern barricade when a refugee took exception to Jonny trying to take his wife and daughter.” Devora glanced around to make sure the kitchen was empty except for the two of them and leaned closer. “You see the tent out in the garden? Big old thing Mrs. Fafield used to use for her godawful garden parties every summer?”
“I caught a glimpse. Someone made a remark to me about seeing me in the tent.”
Devora shook her head. “Jonny’s been picking and choosing which refugees to let in. People with certain skills, men he thinks will make good guards and pretty girls and women. Those ones are under heavy guard and each night he makes a big ceremony out of rewarding his men by giving them their choice of partner—unwilling partner may I add—and spending the night in the tent.”
Unable to believe what she was hearing, Tamsyn recoiled, mouth agape. “Are you serious?”
“Sheriff tried to rein him in—they had a huge argument about it.” Devora shrugged. “Times are desperate and Jonny’s offering safety, food and shelter. People will do a lot to secure their place here.”
“Did he try to put you in the tent?” Tamsyn asked, sick to her stomach. Devora was their peer and had gone to school with them.
“No, he knows he needs me in charge of the kitchen to keep his belly and his scroungy soldiers’ bellies full. And feed the others he’s gathering. You better play nice with him so you don’t end up in the tent. I’ll tell him I need you here if you want.” She gestured at the bowl. “Better get to working though. We need to serve the next shift soon.”
Tamsyn had one final question. “And Doc Ortenbe?”
“Had a heart attack in the middle of the ER, died before he hit the floor or so I was told. Listen, Twenty Questions time is over. Pretty much if someone isn’t here in the compound they’re turned or they’re dead, ok?”
