edges of her heart.
Does she really think all we did was hang out at the malls, and not even try to survive on our own?
The woman needed to put in check.
She might be all high and mighty out here in the sticks but she doesn’t know shit.
“Don’t rip me a new asshole because my ’rents died in the city.”
“Wh—what?” Loomis asked, incredulous.
Gwen stepped closer and glared up at her. “I’ve been through gang wars that’d make you piss your flabby pants. I’ve had friends and cut buddies bleed to death in my arms. I’ve walked over a hundred miles to get here, and I’ve passed through a lot of small towns just like this one. The only reason you townies are doing so well is luck. Nothing else.”
“Luck?” Loomis’s hazel eyes snapped. “It took more than luck, missy! We worked our butts off to survive this long.”
“A lot of people did, and a lot of people died anyway. That doesn’t make you better than me, dawg. It just means you had the better breaks.”
Loomis scoffed, not believing her.
As much as Gwen wanted to look at the others and gauge their responses, she didn’t. She had to stand up to Loomis on her own, and let her know she wasn’t going to roll over like Lucky or Kevin might. Powerful people only respected power. If Gwen was ever going to have a chance at gaining that esteem, she had to show her strength now. “Don’t you feel me? There’s dozens of towns between here and the city. This is the first one I’ve seen that wasn’t empty or didn’t have starving kids.”
“Wait,” Rick cut in. “What about Cascade? That’s the next county over. There’s got to be kids there.”
Gwen shook her head, still looking at Loomis. “No, at least none we saw. We were there a couple of days ago, and didn’t see anybody.”
“Nobody?” Loomis still looked skeptical.
“Nobody.”
The argument had drawn an audience. Lucky and the others had left the picnic table, and Kevin peeked through the makeshift curtains, his closely cropped hair making him look much younger.
“She’s right.” Lucky timidly cuddled Oscar. “If there was anybody there, they went into hiding.”
Gwen jumped back into the argument before its momentum could be lost. “And from what I saw, Cascade was bigger than Lindsay Crossing. They had better pickings and the brains to farm like you ‘folks.’ So where the hell are they?”
Loomis scowled but didn’t respond, at a loss for an answer.
“I’ll tell you what happened.” Gwen pointed a finger at Loomis. “They weren’t as lucky as you. They didn’t have the better breaks. Maybe they got sick and died. Maybe their stupid gardens didn’t make enough food to feed them all. Or maybe they killed each other off over territory. Whatever. But don’t you ever look down your nose at me again, and judge how we lived in the city. You don’t know shit about that and never will. You feel me?”
They stared at one another for long moments. The only sound was birdsong in the woodlot, the crackle of flames in the outdoor fireplace, and the gurgle of the nearby creek. In the silence, Gwen wondered if she had pushed too hard. Where would she go if Loomis turned her out?
“I feel you.” Loomis still appeared angry, but at least the snotty expression had left her face. “I apologize for being rude. We’re a family and need to treat each other with courtesy.”
Gwen blinked.
We’re a family?
Her mind reeled with the impact of that statement. She almost didn’t realize Loomis had proceeded to talk.
“What I said was mean-spirited. And you’re right. I don’t know anything about what you’ve gone through. We’ve had our own share of power struggles here, but those were early on.” Her eyes flickered to Rick and Cara, a wealth of emotion seeming to cross her face. Pain, disgust, loathing and an odd wistfulness ran in quick succession across her features. “So I’ll just shut my mouth on the matter, okay? Let that be an end to it.”
Gwen had a
Does she really think all we did was hang out at the malls, and not even try to survive on our own?
The woman needed to put in check.
She might be all high and mighty out here in the sticks but she doesn’t know shit.
“Don’t rip me a new asshole because my ’rents died in the city.”
“Wh—what?” Loomis asked, incredulous.
Gwen stepped closer and glared up at her. “I’ve been through gang wars that’d make you piss your flabby pants. I’ve had friends and cut buddies bleed to death in my arms. I’ve walked over a hundred miles to get here, and I’ve passed through a lot of small towns just like this one. The only reason you townies are doing so well is luck. Nothing else.”
“Luck?” Loomis’s hazel eyes snapped. “It took more than luck, missy! We worked our butts off to survive this long.”
“A lot of people did, and a lot of people died anyway. That doesn’t make you better than me, dawg. It just means you had the better breaks.”
Loomis scoffed, not believing her.
As much as Gwen wanted to look at the others and gauge their responses, she didn’t. She had to stand up to Loomis on her own, and let her know she wasn’t going to roll over like Lucky or Kevin might. Powerful people only respected power. If Gwen was ever going to have a chance at gaining that esteem, she had to show her strength now. “Don’t you feel me? There’s dozens of towns between here and the city. This is the first one I’ve seen that wasn’t empty or didn’t have starving kids.”
“Wait,” Rick cut in. “What about Cascade? That’s the next county over. There’s got to be kids there.”
Gwen shook her head, still looking at Loomis. “No, at least none we saw. We were there a couple of days ago, and didn’t see anybody.”
“Nobody?” Loomis still looked skeptical.
“Nobody.”
The argument had drawn an audience. Lucky and the others had left the picnic table, and Kevin peeked through the makeshift curtains, his closely cropped hair making him look much younger.
“She’s right.” Lucky timidly cuddled Oscar. “If there was anybody there, they went into hiding.”
Gwen jumped back into the argument before its momentum could be lost. “And from what I saw, Cascade was bigger than Lindsay Crossing. They had better pickings and the brains to farm like you ‘folks.’ So where the hell are they?”
Loomis scowled but didn’t respond, at a loss for an answer.
“I’ll tell you what happened.” Gwen pointed a finger at Loomis. “They weren’t as lucky as you. They didn’t have the better breaks. Maybe they got sick and died. Maybe their stupid gardens didn’t make enough food to feed them all. Or maybe they killed each other off over territory. Whatever. But don’t you ever look down your nose at me again, and judge how we lived in the city. You don’t know shit about that and never will. You feel me?”
They stared at one another for long moments. The only sound was birdsong in the woodlot, the crackle of flames in the outdoor fireplace, and the gurgle of the nearby creek. In the silence, Gwen wondered if she had pushed too hard. Where would she go if Loomis turned her out?
“I feel you.” Loomis still appeared angry, but at least the snotty expression had left her face. “I apologize for being rude. We’re a family and need to treat each other with courtesy.”
Gwen blinked.
We’re a family?
Her mind reeled with the impact of that statement. She almost didn’t realize Loomis had proceeded to talk.
“What I said was mean-spirited. And you’re right. I don’t know anything about what you’ve gone through. We’ve had our own share of power struggles here, but those were early on.” Her eyes flickered to Rick and Cara, a wealth of emotion seeming to cross her face. Pain, disgust, loathing and an odd wistfulness ran in quick succession across her features. “So I’ll just shut my mouth on the matter, okay? Let that be an end to it.”
Gwen had a
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