She leaped out of her skin, letting out a shriek.
"Who— how are you—” Her soft blue eyes widened and she paled. "Where is your mask?"
"I don't need one. I'm from the wastelands. Listen, I have something, from Milton."
She blinked rapidly and looked around cautiously before stepping toward me.
"Milton? The DIT? How do you know him?"
"He gave me a letter. He wanted me to find one of you and ask that you pass it to Rank One." I pulled the folded paper from my back pocket and offered it to her. She stared at it for a long moment before taking it carefully.
"Rank One?" She nodded slowly. "Is Milton still alive?"
"He is," I confirmed. I stuffed my hands in my pockets and rocked on my heels awkwardly. She wasn't exactly stunning, but she was different than any other woman I'd ever seen before. She was exceptionally clean, and... I couldn't put my finger on it, but something about her was off. She didn't fit. The other ones too had the same look.
"Is he hurt?" Her brow furrowed.
"I can't say much else. Please, just pass the note on." I backed away, my hands up.
"Who are you? What's your name?" she asked. I hesitated. Would she send someone to Heathen Heights after me? Those soldiers wouldn't hesitate to torch my place. We could defend ourselves from a lot, and we had. Raiders had tried and failed more than once to take over, and we'd been able to defend ourselves, but a militia? We wouldn't stand a chance.
"Martin," I said.
"Martin," she whispered.
"Olive! What are you doing? Get in the bunker!" Her Daddy screamed at her and she scurried away. She shoved the letter down the front of her dress and ran back to the bunker door. Islid back and watched her Daddy follow, ducking in behind her and locking the door tight.
The crawlie he'd been fighting ran head-first into the door, splitting his brainless head open. I sighed and shook my head. I pulled my gun out and stepped out of the shadows, shooting him in the head, putting the monster out of his misery.
He couldn't even kill a fucking crawlie. What exactly was the point of the program, as Milton called it? When I returned to Heathen Heights later, I asked him about it all. He didn't seem to know anything about what I'd witnessed.
"What are you talking about? They don't do that." He grew defensive when I mentioned them staging the area. "Why would they do that?"
"I thought it was odd. I don't think they care about what you guys bring back, there's another reason they’re sending you up there."
He didn't speak for a long time. My words must have given him something to think about.
"Who did you speak to? Which Young Lady?" he asked when he started speaking again.
"Her Daddy called her Olive."
He swore. "Olive? She's the worst one. We'll see if the letter gets to where it's supposed to."
"Who's Rank One?" I asked.
Milton wouldn't look me in the eye. "Someone I have a personal vendetta against."
I wished I'd read the letter, but even though I was from the Wastelands, where there wasn't such things like law and order, I had my own set of moral codes. Milton asked me not to read it, and I'd respected that, even though I was curious.
"Now," he cleared his throat. "Per our agreement, you have me for three more days before you untie me and let me extract my revenge on the person who caused this."
He scratched his cheek on his shoulder. One of the purple boils that had formed burst and began to leak down his face. The night before Cherry showed him his reflection and he'd broken down. His angry, smart-ass mouth finally shut and he spent the evening sobbing. We left him alone to cry without an audience. It was understandable.Finding out you were turning into a creepie.
A piece of his hair drifted down, falling to the floor. He took a deep breath.
"Ask away, Riot Ritalin."
Chapter 28 - Eleanor
