I avoid the eyes of a few people hanging around outside the bar as I wheel my wagon around the back and bang on the door there.
Molly is excited, as she always is when we get somewhere.
When no one opens the door, I bang on it again, this time with the butt of my pistol.
After another minute, a middle-aged redhead woman named Frankie opens the door for me. “Hey, Kat,” she says with only a hint of a smile. She’s far too tired and cynical to grin or laugh. “You got something for us?”
“Yeah. I’ve got some good stuff today.”
“Then you better come in.” Molly runs over to greet her happily, and Frankie deigns to reach down and quickly ruffle the fur on the top of the dog’s head.
I pull the wagon into the back room of the old bar while Frankie goes to get Billy, a laid-back, wiry man of undeterminable age with longish hair and a grizzled beard. I retrieve a bottle of Advil and a box of the diarrhea medicine.
“Whatcha got, Kat?” he asks as he lopes in, wearing the same jeans he always wears and one of his three flannel shirts.
My name is Katherine, but no one calls me anything except Kat. Without wasting time on small talk or greetings, I hand him the medication I picked out just now.
He opens the bottle and the box to make sure they hold the advertised contents. Then he leans over to see into my box while Molly pokes her muzzle past one of the flaps so she can see too.
Letting out a low whistle, Billy looks up at me. “Where’d you find all this shit?”
I meet his gaze without wavering but don’t answer with words.
He rolls his eyes. “Fine. Keep your secrets. We got eggs and bread and goat cheese today.”
“I’ll have some of all of that. Plus some ham and bacon.” When I see him start to frown, I close the box and grab the handle of the wagon. “I’ll take my stuff elsewhere if you’re going to be a greedy asshole about it.”
He rolls his eyes again. We play this little game every time. He tries to offer me less than I deserve, and I put my foot down until he caves.
“Fine,” he grumbles. “Ham and bacon too. But you’ll need to give me one of those lotions too.”
I pull out one of the bottles of lotion and hand it to him.
“Okay,” he says as he accepts it. “I’ll get Frankie to pack it up for you.”
“Good.”
I stay in the back room after he walks out, guarding the remainder of my loot with my pistol out.
Billy can generally be trusted to not try to steal from me or hurt me, but no one can be trusted completely. And some of the men who hang out in this place are no better than militia or the gang types that join droves.
I saw two guys nearby as I entered that I recognized. A huge man with a beard who never speaks and another smaller, grungy guy with a predatory leer.
They work for Logan, a leader farther into the woods who offers protection for loyalty like an old-school Mafia boss.
I don’t like him, and I don’t trust him.
I don’t trust men at all anymore.
I wouldn’t put it past Logan’s guys to come back here and try to take me and the supplies I’ve scavenged by force.
When Frankie returns after several minutes, she’s got my food wrapped as a large package. She also leans down and sneaks a bite of something to Molly, but it happens so quickly I can’t see what it is.
It makes Molly squirm with joy.
Hiding a smile, I fit as many of the provisions as I can into my backpack and then put the rest in the wagon. Better to look like I’m not carting around quite so much ofwhat people might kill me for. I say goodbye to Frankie and leave by the back door.
As I make my way around the building, Logan’s soldiers hanging out in the front give me open once-overs. The big guy’s expression is neutral, sober, but the other one leers in a way that makes me feel naked.
