Love and Decay, Kane's Law by Rachel Higginson Page B

entirely
different light then. I decided one scary revelation at a time.
    “The threat against my friends was clear
enough, Kane.”
    I liked that. “We have men everywhere, all
over the town and all over the surrounding forests. We live in
relative peace and quiet here because we exterminate the threat of
Zombies before they ever reach us. Our people live in houses and
participate in civilized society. My father is reclaiming this
country for us. Every day we clear more land, claim more property
for humanity.”
    She seemed to absorb that information and let
it roll around her head. Finally she asked, “Do you use
currency?”
    “We trade work for necessities,” I told her.
“Work earns you credits, credits buy you whatever you need or want.
The more you work, the more you have. The same goes for housing.
The job you choose determines the kind of housing you own. It
determines your status in the community. It decides how much
influence you have in meetings.”
    Reagan fell silent then, no doubt
contemplating our society. I offered the obligatory greeting to
everyone we came into contact with but didn’t offer to introduce
Reagan. A bizarre kind of greed had settled over me and I hated the
idea of sharing her with anyone- even random citizens on the
street. I knew they would never take her from me. I had the second
highest level of respect in our community- maybe third, if you
counted my mother. But, still, some quiet whisper of instinct urged
me to keep her tucked close to my side, keep an ever watchful eye
on this impulsive girl.
    When we neared my house, she asked, “What’s
top of the food chain?”
    “I don’t know what you mean.” I looked down
at her and couldn’t help but smile. We were almost home.
    “Best job, what is it? Who gets the best
house? The most food? The most votes?” Her eyes were inquisitive
but her jawline still hard. I wanted to ease her agitation, take
away some of her apprehension.
    Confidently, I said, “My father.”
    That didn’t make her happy. “And then?” she
pressed.
    “Soldiers.” I wondered if that would make her
feel more protected. “Anyone who patrols gets the best of
everything. We risk our lives to keep peace.”
    “Well, that’s what I want to be then.” Her
rich brown eyes were intent with her decision. She was serious.
    Ridiculous but serious.
    She’d been given too much freedom, kept too
loosely. She was an asset here, a precious commodity. We didn’t
need her to be a disposable soldier, we had plenty of them. I
needed her in my home, keeping my house, making my meals and
warming my bed. Was that sexist? Sure. Fine, absolutely. But we all
had our strengths. I played to mine every single day. Risked my
life to give people like her safety and security. Now,
specifically, I would do those things for her . She had a
different role to play.
    But her part was invaluable in my life.
Absolutely vital now that I found her.
    “You can’t be a soldier, Reagan. Only our men
fill those rolls.”
    “And then women remain co-dependent on their
protection and abundant supplies? I forgot that you own your women
here; they are as much property as they are people, right?” Her
tone was biting, ripping into me with her sharp teeth and
unforgiving tongue.
    “It doesn’t have to be that way,” I assured
her. But what I didn’t say was that the co-dependency went both
ways. She would be reliant on me to provide for her, to keep her
safe. And I would be bound to her because of the way she brought
light into my life, stroked my soul with her grace and warmth,
slowed the demons that hunted my mind, nipping at my ankles with
their forked tongues, licking my back with the burning whip of
their claws. She took all of that away and brought me peace. In the
first moment I saw her that was true. We were far beyond a
one-sided relationship. I needed her as much as she would need
me.
    More so.
    We’d stopped in front of my house and I was
anxious to show her inside. I was proud