We discussed which jobs we might be assigned while reviewing all that we’d seen that day. Macon wanted to inquire about openings at the fire department and Gizmo wanted to do something involving machinery. Artemis surprised me by saying that teaching might be of interest to her. Teresa also wanted to work with children, though I suspected she really just wanted to be near Artemis. Not surprisingly, Kitten wanted to take care of the animals.
“Not killing them, though,” he said with a frown, and I wondered if he was prepared for the death that inherently came with raising livestock. “What do you want to do?” he asked, since I was the only one who hadn’t yet contributed.
“Something with a gun,” I said.
“That’s hot,” Kitten said quietly and hooked his foot around my prosthetic leg to drag it toward him.
“Wrong leg, sweetness.”
“I don’t pick favorites,” he said with a wink, and I couldn’t help but smile.
Once most of us had finished eating, several “brothers and sisters” approached our table and introduced themselves, telling us their names, where they lived in town, and their occupation, which was useful information. After some prompting, a few children introduced themselves as well, which was sweet. There were only a couple dozen children in all, most of them primary school aged, which meant they’d never known a world before the plague. Did that make it better or worse for them? Their gap-toothed grins reminded me of the Before, as Kitten called it, and I marveled at how I’d gotten used to not seeing children. Scary how easily one could adapt.
Several of the adults and teens were amputees and asked about our modified limbs. Gizmo gave them the rundown of their features and said he’d be happy to discuss it at length once we had settled in. A shy-looking young man with ink-black hair, piercing blue eyes, and alabaster skin approached us and introduced himself as Wylie Somerset, a machinist. Gizmo asked about the young man’s glasses, which had two lenses of differing shapes in a single metal frame, and after explaining how he’d constructed them himself, the two got into an animated discussion about the pros and cons of various metals used for welding.
The din of the dining hall rose and then quieted as the children filed to the front of the room. Under the instruction of an adult member of the Fellowship, they lined up and began to sing a hymn that Kitten, Macon, and Artemis all knew. The three of them sang along, as did several others, and I found my eyes stinging a little from the tenderness of it all. Perhaps it was only my allergies. Then Brother Larry took the floor, and after thanking the people who’d contributed to making our meal, he asked our group to stand so that he might introduce us.
“And Brother Cipher here was the brave young man who found our wayward midwife and delivered her from the jaws of a tiger to the refuge of Promised Land. Let’s give him a round of applause for his act of heroism.”
Everyone stood and clapped, which caught me off guard and caused a slight panic to ripple through me. I’d never enjoyed being the center of attention, and praise in general made me squirrely. Once I’d gathered my wits, I wrapped one arm around Kitten and kissed the top of his head, so that everyone present would know we were romantically involved and that he was mine. I searched the crowd for any sign of ill will, but was met with the same open, smiling appreciation.
My conclusion: this place was weird as fuck.
* * *
I smokedmy after-dinner cigarette while strolling through downtown and peering in shop windows. The rest of the gang wanted to go home and unpack while there was still daylight, but I wanted to check out Promised Land after dark. The stores had all closed down for the day, and out of curiosity, I tried one of the doors. Unlocked. The next three were unlocked as well, but not the building that housed the armory. I’d bet the medicines and gasoline were also kept more securely.
Apparently there weresomelocked doors in Promised Land.
“Looking for something?” a young man said. Leaned casually against a wall, I recognized him as one of the guards I’d seen when we first approached the gates to Promised Land. Dark-skinned with a faded hair cut, he was about my height and lightly muscled though not as built as Macon. He must have seen me trying the doors, but that wasn’t a crime, was it?
“Are you security?” I asked.
“Yeah, you trying to steal something?” The flat line of his mouth curved into a wry grin. “It’d make my job easier if you’d just admit it.”
“Not especially. I was just testing the limits of Brother Larry’s trust exercise.”
“Ah, you’ll get used to it. The no-locks thing.”
I doubted that sincerely. “Doesn’t it make your job harder?” Surely, he couldn’t be everywhere at once.
“Not really. People know that if they steal something, they’ll most likely get caught.”
“You’re that good, huh?”
He blew on his nails and brushed them against his shirtfront. “Try me.”
I grinned, appreciating that he had a sense of humor about it. “How long have you been here in Promised Land?”
“Almost three years now.”
“And what do you think of the place?”
“It’s nice, man. People are nice, having a roof over my head is nice. Getting fed on the regular is real fucking nice.”
“Did Brother Larry pay you to say that?”
“No, he probably should though. Guess I’m not pretty enough for the Welcome Committee.”
