Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 86059 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 430(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86059 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 430(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Here, there’s endless clusters of smaller buildings crowding along the roads. It’s a housing area, except most of the houses have been neglected or destroyed entirely. So many of them are nothing but half-charred remains of themselves, and others have roofs that are sagging in.
As much as I hate Brady, I like scavenging in the south. I love seeing what’s been left behind, and my mind comes up with all kinds of fascinating stories of the people that once lived here. Where did they all go when the dragons came? Are any of them still living in Fort Dallas now or are they all dead? What killed them? Famine? Sickness? Dragon-flame?
Brady parks his bike next to mine. He reaches out and pokes my arm with the end of his rifle.
I shrug away in irritation and add another death to that list. Death by asshole with gun? “Stop it. That’s dangerous.”
He slings his gun back over his arm and reaches out and pokes me with his gloved finger instead. “You sure are irritable, Scarface.”
“You’re not supposed to touch me,” I remind him. “Gloves or not. The rules are clear.”
“Relax. I’m just poking you.” He gives me an easy grin that makes my skin crawl and regards me. “I brought extra gloves, you know. Well, just one, because I knew I was with you.”
I glare at him mutinously and put the kickstand up on my bike, dismounting. “I need to get started.”
“I think you should give me a hand job. I’ll talk to the cook. Make sure you get some extra food in your portion tonight.” And he just grins at me, like he’s giving me a great offer.
A cold prickle works down my spine, but I keep the defiant look on my face. I open one of the packs and pull out the empty backpack provided to help me scavenge and the sack lunch that’s been sent for me. “You don’t touch me. I don’t touch you. Those are the rules. You’re just here to keep me safe.” I throw the word back in his face.
“No one’s touching anyone. That’s why we have gloves.” He lifts his chin at my bad arm. “I’ll even let you use your stump.”
“Fuck you,” I spit at him, storming away.
“Stay close,” he calls out in a bored voice. “You know where I’ll be.”
I’m fuming as I storm toward the nearest house, pack in tow. Brady always makes gross propositions. It starts out like this—name calling and reminding me how “ugly” I am, and then the moment we get out of the city, he makes lewd suggestions. They never touch us, of course. Not until Saturday night, and only the girls that want to make a few extra coins—or portions of food—on the side.
I could go to the soldier in charge of the program. I guess he’s an officer, though the militia doesn’t really have “officers” as much as they just all report to Lord Azar. I could complain about Brady. How he’s constantly making disgusting comments at me. How he touched me with a gloved hand, even though he’s not supposed to. None of them are allowed to touch us for some weird reason we haven’t been told.
But we both know I won’t say a thing. Brady’s popular with the other soldiers. They’re all friendly and stick together. Me, I’m a scarred, unpleasant girl who has few friends. If I get Brady in trouble, then I’ll have problems with all the guards, no matter who gets assigned to me that day.
I know better. So as long as Brady doesn’t do more than call me names or poke me with a gloved finger, I ignore it.
Jaw clenched, I storm toward the first house, trying the door. At least now that we’re here, I’ll have the next while to myself. Brady stays by the bikes to guard them and I’m supposed to stay in close proximity so he can help me if I get attacked by anything. There’s nothing in this area but the occasional coyote, though. Even nomads know not to come this close to Fort Dallas. Any people that would have lived here are long gone, so it’s just alone time. I get to pick through the ruins and enjoy the rest of my exploration without Brady. If I go back to the bikes, I know he’ll be there, sitting in the cab of a nearby car with his feet kicked up, flipping through an old porn magazine or something. As guards go, he’s pretty much the worst one when it comes to keeping an eye on his charge.
Which means I’m going to explore further than I probably should, just because I can. There’s nothing good to scavenge in the areas we’re taken to—we go to them over and over again, and yet the soldiers won’t let us scavenge further. One of the girls speculated that we’re not being sent out to scavenge at all, but if that’s the case, why are we being taken out? It doesn’t make sense.