Thicker Than Blood (Thicker Than Blood #1)(57)

“Who’s in charge?” Alex asked.

“Man named Jeffers,” Bryce answered. “Him and his old lady run everything. You’ll be meeting them soon. They like to greet all the new arrivals in person.”

There was a note of pride in Bryce’s voice, and I couldn’t help but think that maybe this could be a decent place, especially with a woman at the helm. Because with a woman in charge, things couldn’t be all bad for the women inside, right? God, I hoped so.

As we approached the camp I began counting, estimating there were ten, fifteen, no, nearly thirty buildings in all, probably more that I couldn’t yet see. Vehicles were everywhere, taking up the numerous parking lots and scattered across the lawns. And interspersed through it all were people. Hundreds and hundreds of people. Milling around, running, walking, talking, laughing, and shouting.

An array of tents was lined up between the buildings, some big, some small, in a large variety of colors. From this distance I couldn’t exactly be sure what they were for, but from the shouts carrying across the way, it seemed like a street fair, with vendors selling their wares. And far off, on the opposite side of the property, I could see several dozen rows of wind turbines, the blades turning slowly in the breeze.

“This place is huge,” Alex muttered. He appeared somewhat at ease, but his gaze was everywhere, darting left and right at a rapid pace, taking in everything. And his body language was taut and rigid, his posture ramrod straight, all things that belied his calm and cool exterior.

“Entrance is this way,” Mike said, glancing over his shoulder. His gaze found mine and he gave me a toothy smile. I attempted to smile, but more than likely only accomplished a somewhat strained grimace. Mike might be young, but he was of the age where sexuality was the first and foremost thought above everything else. His roaming eyes moving up and down my body made me want to slap him silly and send him home to his mother. But he probably didn’t have one, at least not anymore, and had been forced to grow up around the likes of men like Bryce.

Averting my eyes, I suppressed a shudder.

“Bryce! Man, we sent you out for supplies and you brought us * back instead!”

Three men had appeared on the opposite side of the fence, close but careful not to touch the electrical death trap. They were all older, heavily bearded, and in their late forties or fifties. From our vantage point on the road, they appeared to be triplets, all of them hairy, overweight, and carrying two or three large rifles each.

“They ain’t mine!” Bryce grinned at his friends. “Paul Bunyan over here has claim.”

Immediately all three sets of hungry eyes sought out Alex. “How much, man?” one asked.

“I got a stash of some pretty sweet steel,” another called out. “You give me a two-for-one and I’ll set you up real nice.”

I quickly inched toward Evelyn, who was also closing the small distance between us. Our hands found each other, our fingers interlocking as we squeezed each other tightly, silently conveying our apprehension and fear. Suddenly, my rather modest dress seemed skimpy, as if this were my fault for exposing too much skin. Skin that was starting to crawl with dread.

“Alex!” I hissed under my breath. “Alex!”

But Alex wasn’t looking at me. Still walking, he fixed his stony glare on the three men at the fence as they walked in tandem with our small group, then shrugged his shoulders.

“Not for sale,” he called out. “Got a truck, though. Broke down a couple miles that way. Good condition, just needs some gas.”

“Got enough trucks to last me a lifetime,” the man answered. “But I ain’t seen a real redhead in years.” His beady gaze shifted to Evelyn and his lips twisted into a greasy smile. “The carpet match the drapes, honey?”

Alex froze mid-step, his hand on his gun, and turned to face the men at the fence. “They aren’t for sale,” he said slowly, forcefully, spitting each individual word out between his teeth with enough venom that the tiny hairs on my arms and neck rose to attention.

I’d known Alex was formidable, dangerous even, and could hold his own more often than not. But this show of dominance over these men, his claiming us in order to protect us from the dangers of this new world, caused a different sort of appreciation to blossom within me. He wasn’t just our savior and our protector, he was more than that. He was the kind of man who stood up for what he believed, a real man who did everything he could to prevent evil from spilling over into the remnants of good. He was a man like Thomas had been, despite his young age, a man of honor through and through. And I couldn’t help but think that Thomas would have liked him.

“Told ya so,” Bryce said cheerfully. “Can’t say I blame ’im myself.”

The men grumbled under their breath, shaking their heads, their expressions conveying disappointment and irritation. One by one, they walked away, no longer interested in haggling with Alex.

“Just a little ways up.” Bryce gestured at a small bend in the fence, where just around the corner several dozen heavily armed men wearing fatigues were gathered. “Don’t mind the artillery, gotta keep this place safe somehow.”

“You know the rule, Bryce,” one of the soldiers called out, coming to greet us. “Strip down or stay out.”

“What?” Evelyn asked, her eyes wide.

Bryce, already unbuttoning his jeans, gave her an apologetic glance. “Them’s the breaks, kiddo. Gotta show some skin, all your skin, if you wanna get in.”