It was home, every time, no matter what horrors awaited me in the world.
The hall stretched past the living room and a narrow stairway to the second floor. At the end of the hallway was the kitchen. A fire burned leisurely in the living room fireplace, with women scattered about and settled into their spots for the evening.
I shed my scarf and coat upon entry, piling them on whichever hooks I managed to find among many other coats. Immediately, I was drawn down to the kitchen, dodging a few women as they left it.
“Smells like heaven.” I inhaled deeply, sousing in the scents.
“It’s the same as the past three nights.” Phoebe wiped her forehead with a sleeve, her face physically flushed from the heat of the stove. The very sight was the highlight of my day, particularly on long ones.
“My remark remains,” I laughed.
I sat on the other side of the counter, watching as Phoebe kneaded dough for one last batch of bread before supper. Cooking was the perfect hobby for a detail-oriented mind like hers.
We had a particular routine. Every night we had feeding time. Our ratio of Vipera to Hosts was almost even, although I took on an extra feeding, typically. The Vipera would cook dinner for the Hosts, a new rotation of girls every night, then the Hosts would feed the Vipera.
Phoebe was the only person who could make friends wherever she went, no matter the circumstances. She was personable, agreeable, and pretty. Within the past two years, she had gathered over a dozen Vipera and Hosts to live with us.
The sleeping situation was less than perfect, as we only had four rooms, some containing several beds. We shared everything at this point. We even pooled money to save for things like food, medicine, and other necessities when we could not make them ourselves.
We were a commune. A Nest, if you will.
Our Nest was not complicated. We had three rules.
Autonomy, sustainability, utilitarianism.
A large padding of our income came from draining Vipera men of their fluids for pharmaceuticals, which covered our costs comfortably. The gifts that keep on giving.
This was the birth of our Nest. We were bonded by the cause of creating a better world, since the men were not the best at improving anything. If we were to live the lives we sought, we must be the first to start the motion. Aside from those who livedwith us, we were able to gather nearly two thousand women to join our union, designed specifically for Hosts navigating the new landscape.
“Was the shop busy?” I asked Phoebe.
“Decently. Sickness thrives in wintertime, after all.” She put in the last batch of bread as the stew was finishing. She spooned some in a bowl for me and then rang the dinner bell.
She slid the bowl across the counter with a wooden spoon, and I stopped it with my palm. She sat beside me as women began to crowd the kitchen area in a neat queue.
“How were the extractions?”
“Typical. I need to ask John to make another hook. It’s terribly inefficient doing one at a time,” I said before taking a spoonful of stew in my mouth.
Phoebe had a habit of staring at me while I ate. I don’t know if she did so because she was living vicariously or because she liked watching someone appreciate something she made.
I cleaned my own dishes and cutlery in the sink upon finishing. It helped that everyone just cleaned up after themselves to keep the chore load to a minimum. There were much more important tasks than cleaning dishes.
A tanned, dark-haired woman came to grab a second serving.
“Rebecca?”
She reluctantly looked away from the stew.
“There is a body in the lab. If you have time tomorrow, would you mind bringing him to the woods?”
“Of course. Buried whole or scattered?” she asked as she made herself another bowl.
“Scattered, preferably, I’m sure there is an animal out there that’ll pick up the pieces.”
“I will see to it tomorrow night.” She nodded, retreating to the living room.
When I turned to Phoebe, I saw that little glint in her eyes.
