The Wolves Within Read online

  Jenn gave a dramatic bow, complete with a wave and a flick of the wrist. “I’ll be here all week,” she said over the clapping. “Autographs are fine. Just don’t ask me to kiss any babies.”

  Bryce blew another whistle.

  “All right,” came Dylan’s voice from the doorway. “We shouldn’t feed into Jansen’s already planet-sized ego.”

  “Planet-sized? Moon-sized at most.”

  “That’s still pretty big.”

  Someone in the crowd asked, “So what happened? Tell us the story.”

  Jenn opened her mouth to recount the tale—with, of course, a little embellishment because, frankly, it wasn’t that exciting—but Dylan said, “Let’s save it for another time. The boss’ll kill me if any of you boneheads are late again, so suit up and get out there.”

  Groans rumbled through the cabin and turned into ambient chatter as the farm staff and security guards returned to changing or gearing up.

  Dylan slapped Jenn on the back. His orange beard was big and bushy, and his long hair flowed out from beneath his hat—the same dirty, faded Cardinals cap he wore when she met him. With the crooked nose, chipped tooth, and scar above the eyebrow, every day he reminded Jenn more and more of a Viking. Or maybe it was a vagrant. She wasn’t sure.

  “Nice work out there,” he said. “Though it sounds like I’ll be needing to have a word with Bryce. Where was he when all this went down?”

  “Bathroom, but he asked me to cover for him when I was on break.”

  “And you called for backup right away?”

  She put a hand on her hip and tilted her head to the side.

  “Okay, okay.” He threw up his hands. “I have to ask, you know. It’s in the job description.”

  “That’s why they pay you the big bucks?”

  “So we’re calling them big bucks now, eh? For all the work I do?”

  “Whatever. You love it.”

  “Meh, it’s tolerable,” he said, which meant that, yes, he did love it. Dylan was in his element here, and Jenn enjoyed being a part of his team as much as he enjoyed running it. She couldn’t imagine being anywhere else. “You’re off tomorrow, right?”

  “Yep. And Monday. Back to day patrol on Tuesday.”

  “Two days off in a row. Look at you. Big plans?”

  With a casual shrug, she said, “If by big plans you mean spending most of my time waiting for food and water rations and the rest of it in bed with Sam, then yeah, real big.”

  He scrunched up his face. “I really do not need to hear about that.”

  “What? About being in bed with my boyfriend? Never took you for a prude, Dylan.”

  “I’m not a—” He cut himself off and huffed. “It’s too early for this, so I’ll quit while I’m ahead. See you when I see you?”

  “Yep. See you when I see you.”

  She signed in her rifle with Ed—the quartermaster—and made her way to the cubbyholes to pack her things. At the dining room table sat her friend Allison Findlay, a refugee from Santa Fe, New Mexico. Two weeks after the explosions, she arrived with her parents, twin brother Ryan, and a caravan of a hundred more. A few days later, she volunteered to work as a laborer on the Beaumonts’ farm, where she met Jenn.

  “Hey, Jennifer,” Allison joked, bubbly as always.

  Jenn pulled her backpack from a cubbyhole. “Morning, Allie.”

  Allison pushed aside thick red hair and scowled at Jenn, then smiled her wide smile and continued tying her shoes. She hated being called “Allie.” Jenn made that mistake on the day they first met. Allison, for her part, had understandably assumed that “Jenn” was short for “Jennifer.” And so began their now-familiar ritual.

  With a huff, Jenn collapsed into the chair beside Allison. Her back was sore. So were her feet, despite the fancy pair of hiking boots Sophie gave her when she joined the security team. These last five days were the longest she’d ever worked. Coming down from the adrenaline high of catching that woman was only adding to her exhaustion.

  “So what was it like?” Allison asked. “When you found that person. Were you scared?”

  Jenn pulled off a boot. “Scared? No, not really. It’s all kind of automatic.” With a prickle of guilt, she saw that woman’s loose-fitting clothes and heard her sobs. If Jenn hadn’t joined the security team, which paid her in food, would she have to steal to survive? It dawned on her that, compared to many, she was one of the fortunate few in this harsh new world.

  Her expression must have changed, because Allison laid a warm hand on her forearm. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. I’m fine.”

  “Liar! I can tell when something’s bugging you.”

  Jenn stifled a groan. There was no point in hiding anything from Allison; she had an uncanny ability to read people’s emotions. She was even better than Maria. No wonder she was studying psychology at university before the bombs. “I feel bad. She said she had a family. Now she’ll spend a few days in jail and then lose out on rations, which will stress her out more and make her need to steal again. It’s a vicious circle.”

  “Don’t beat yourself up over it,” Allison added. “Who knows? The police could go easy on her. She didn’t take any food, right? So she trespassed at the worst.”

  Allison made a good point: the cops could choose to be lenient. After all, she surrendered with almost no resistance. “Maybe,” Jenn said. “Thanks.”

  “Thanks for what?”

  “Making me feel better. You would’ve been a great therapist.”

  “It’s not too late,” Allison said. “Even people today need someone to talk to.”

  “Right. They probably need your services now more than ever.”

  Allison giggled. She was a year older than Sam and two years older than Jenn, but there was a youngness about her. At first, Jenn thought it was only the freckles on her cheeks and nose, but there was more to it than that. Though Jenn hadn’t prodded, she suspected that Allison came from the same sort of cloistered world Sam once lived in: a world of delivery drones, gated communities, and security cameras.

  Jenn pulled off her other boot, releasing a sour stench. “What are you up to today?”

  “Ugh! We’re working on that stupid fence. I swear we’ll never finish it.”

  “Please do,” Jenn said. “Should make my job a little easier if the bad guys can’t just walk in and sneak up on us.”

  “I guess so.” Allison unfolded a gray Northeastern University sweatshirt on her lap. “I shouldn’t complain. Building the fence is like a million times better than . . .”

  Jenn tucked her boots into her backpack. “A million times better than what?”

  Allison, her attention fixed on something across the cabin, nudged Jenn with her elbow.

  “What?” Jenn asked. “What is it?”

  “Look!”

  She pointed at Dylan, who leaned against a kitchen counter and spoke to a tall woman with dirty-blonde hair, sharp cheekbones, and a cleft chin. Jenn recognized her as Charlotte, but she went by Charlie. She arrived in Flagstaff with the same caravan as Allison, and the two were close; Allison was alone in Albuquerque when a single hydrogen bomb exploded above the city, and Charlie, she’d said, saved her life.

  When Dylan delicately tucked a strand of Charlie’s hair behind her ear, making sure to brush her cheek with his fingertips, Allison squealed and bounced in her seat. “They finally hooked up!”

  Jenn rolled her eyes. “Gross.”

  “Gross?” Allison asked. “I think Charlie’s pretty.”

  “Huh? No, Dylan.” Jenn stuck a finger in her mouth and made a gagging motion.

  Allison’s cheeks went red before she thumped her forehead with an open palm. “Oh! Right. Duh.” She leaned in close. “Do not tell Charlie I said that.”

  Jenn slipped on her runners. “Secret’s safe with me, Allie.”

  “Good,” Allison said. Then, after another glance toward Dylan and Charlie, “So what’s wrong with Dylan? He won’t be bad to her, will he? O
r leave it at a one-night stand?”

  “Dylan?” Jenn barked a laugh. “No, not a chance. Look at him. He’s foaming at the mouth.”

  “But you think he’s gross.”

  “Yeah, because he’s like my—” She almost said “brother,” which would be silly, but when she considered the word, it sounded right. “My brother,” she finished. “Actually, him and Jason probably would’ve been buddies.”

  Allison cupped Jenn’s hand in hers. “Then I won’t be worried. That’s pretty high praise.”

  “Yeah,” Jenn agreed. “It is.”

  With a squeeze of Jenn’s fingers, Allison said, “Okay, I have to get going. If I’m late again, Sophie will bite my head off!”

  “Then please go. I prefer my friends with their heads attached.”

  Allison took a hit from a blue inhaler and packed her bag into a cubbyhole. Then she reached down and gave Jenn an awkward but comforting hug. When she pulled away, she asked, “We still on for tomorrow?”

  They had plans to visit the water treatment plant together to pick up water rations. Since it was the only reliable source of clean drinking water in town, for most families in Flagstaff, the trip there was a thrice-a-week event, and lineups were often long. Generally, the earlier in the day, the shorter the line, so Jenn wanted to be there well before the gates opened at eight. After that, they’d ride to the Go Market to stock up on rations for the next few days.

  “Yep,” Jenn said. “Meet you on campus at 6:30.”

  “Okay, cool. I heard they’ve got beets!”

  Jenn licked her lips but tempered her expectations. Though the first harvests of quick-growing crops like beets and kale should occur any day now, rumors about fresh food had been floating around town for weeks. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

  Allison waggled a finger. “Always a skeptic.”

  “Yeah, well, harder to be disappointed that way.”

  Allison slipped on a pair of gardening gloves. “Is Sam coming, too?”

  “Nope. He’s working again tomorrow.”

  “Again?”

  “Carter’s quite the slave driver, from the sounds of it.”

  “What do they even do?” Allison asked. “It’s not like a million cars need charging.”

  “Sam says they gotta be there just in case. I think they spend all day cleaning. Last time I was there, it was so tidy I hardly recognized the place.” Jenn took off her hat, undid her ponytail, and shook out her hair, then had to sweep pine needles off her lap. “You wanna come by for dinner on Sunday, too?”

  “Sure! Maria always teaches me so much.” She gave Jenn another quick hug. “Anyway, have a good day. See you tomorrow!”

  Allison made for the door, dodging Sophie and her dogs, Cookie and Cream, as they came into the cabin. Cookie, a female and the older of the two by a decade, was a golden retriever, her face showing early signs of white. Cream, a one-year-old male, was bigger, nearly a hundred pounds, and a mutt. He had the body of a mastiff but the head of a pit bull and the heart of a German shepherd, though not the smarts.

  The dogs worked the room, sticking their noses in laps and begging for pets, while Sophie conferred with Dylan. Jenn zipped up her bag, ready to go, but Val’s voice came from behind her: “She’s a nice girl. Very . . . How you say?”

  Jenn positioned Allison’s old chair so Val could sit. “Excitable?”

  “No,” Val said and plopped herself down. Her hair was out of its usual ponytail, and after eight or more weeks without a cut, it hung more than halfway down her back. Her makeup was pristine and tasteful, even after a night of patrol, and her nails were freshly painted. Some of her muscle definition had faded, but she still reminded Jenn of an Olympic sprinter. “What’s this when you’re always hugging?” She made a grasping motion with her arms.

  “Touchy?”

  “Yes,” she said through a yawn. “Maybe touchy.”

  Jenn zipped up her bag. “Yeah, she loves a good hug.”

  Val’s face twisted like she’d smelled something rotten. She hated hugs. The last time Jenn tried giving her one, she went as stiff as a telephone pole.

  “Nice work tonight,” Val said and leaned an elbow on the backrest of her chair. “How’s it feel to catch your first?”

  “Honestly? Not that great.”

  “What does this mean?”

  She rested her backpack on her lap. “I was just telling Allison about it. It kinda sucks that we have to send that woman off to the cops. She was trying to help her family and survive. I’ve done worse.”

  Val knew about both the security guard at the Go Market and Yankees Hat in Payson, and she’d watched Jenn shoot that gangbanger in the chest in north Phoenix. That made her the only one who was privy to all the people Jenn had hurt since the bombs; she had yet to tell Sam or Gary that she killed after Yankees Hat.

  “It’s good to ask yourself this,” Val said. “It’s good to question it.”

  “Why? Wouldn’t it be easier if I didn’t feel guilty for doing my job?”

  Val’s answer was firm: “No. Never easier.”

  Jenn understood the subtext of what Val was saying. One night, after Ed shared some of his bourbon with the security staff, Val opened up to Jenn about her past. Surprisingly, what Sophie had said to Sheriff Jordan Wilson outside Prescott was, in fact, more or less the truth. Before Val turned sixteen, her family was all dead, murdered by troops of the Second Brazilian Empire. She managed to escape into the jungle, where she joined a group of partisans and vowed to seek revenge. By her eighteenth birthday, she’d lost count of how many lives she had taken. Eventually, the blood on her hands became too thick, and she left Colombia and began her long trek to the United States.

  “Yeah, I guess,” Jenn said. “That makes sense. It still sucks. This all sucks.” She crossed her arms and legs and leaned back. “You ever wonder what you’d be doing today if the bombs never happened?”

  Val tapped at the air with her index finger. “Counting inventory. In June always, for end of fiscal year.”

  “Right.” Jenn smirked. “I forgot you were a bookmaker.”

  “You’ll not let this go, will you?”

  “Nope. Not a chance.”

  After another yawn, Val asked, “You? What would you be doing?”

  “Me? I don’t know. Probably not much. Sitting around all day in my pajamas and waiting for employers to not email me back.” She blew her cheeks. “Kind of ironic how it took the end of the world for me to find a real job.”

  Val hummed in affirmation. “What about the one in the store? Couldn’t you be working there again?”

  Last summer, Jenn worked part-time for minimum wage at a retail showroom in Peoria, but she was let go when the company installed a new holoprojector. From then on, the AI dealt with customers while photons created the illusion that an actual human being was doing the talking. Admittedly, the AI’s personal skills were far better than Jenn’s. “Let’s just say that job wasn’t the best fit for me. I like this one a lot more.”

  Another hum from Val. Then, a moment later, “I have a question for you. What are you doing Monday overnight?”

  “Monday? Why? What’s up? You want to have a sleepover or something? I think we’re a little old for that, but I can ask Sam if he’d be okay with it. The perv would probably try to come.”

  Val ignored the joke: “No, not sleepovers. For work. Sophie’s been asked by the police to borrow some of us for a security job. It’s Monday, starting at eight until six. She’s told me to go and to pick two more. I hope you will help, if you want. You’d have Tuesday off and then be back to days here on Wednesday.”

  Butterflies filled Jenn’s stomach. She’d never been motivated by recognition or praise, but hearing Val ask for help affirmed that she had a real purpose. What she did had an impact, and she was making a contribution. “Yes,” she said quickly so Val didn’t think she was only agreeing to be polite. “Of course. Whatever you need.”

  “You don’t want to know what
it is?”

  “Oh, yeah.” She scratched her cheek. It honestly hadn’t mattered; she would have agreed to almost anything aside from cleaning outhouses, Dylan’s favorite punishment for guards who were late or otherwise screwed up. “Okay, what’re we doing?”

  Val pushed herself out of her chair, so Jenn stood as well. As they made for the cabin’s front door, Val said, “Simply a guard job. We’ll be watching the old Go Market.”

  There were two Go Markets in Flagstaff. The newer and larger one was by the university. On the day after the bombs, it was sacked and nearly picked clean. The other, which Val was referring to, was on the east side of town, and the police managed to protect it and the precious food inside from looters. Both now served as Flagstaff’s principal ration depots.

  “They looking to beef up their manpower?” Jenn asked. “What’s the deal? Why are we involved all of a sudden?”

  They stepped outside. Through the tall trees to the east lurked the sun, red as always behind the sheen of smoke. The morning air was damp with crisp, almost-frozen dew. “Yes but no,” Val said. “The police are too busy to be doing this so much. They’ve asked Sophie and Ed to learn to start helping. This is the first step.”

  “Interesting,” Jenn mused. It made sense that the police would want some support. With only about forty officers, the Flagstaff PD was stretched to the absolute brink. Uniforms were posted at both Go Markets, the water treatment plant, city hall, the station, and roadblocks on all the major routes into town. Many worked twelve or fourteen hours, seven days a week. Liam hadn’t taken a day off since April.

  “So you can come?” Val asked.

  “I already said yes.” Jenn unlocked her bike, another gift from the Beaumonts, and a useful one at that—the farm was ten miles from the university and a forty-five-minute ride from her place. Without Sam’s Tesla, Gary’s Kia, or any car-hailing apps, Flagstaff felt bigger than Houston or Los Angeles. Jenn now understood why cities built before cars were so cramped.

  “You don’t mind?” Val tied back her thick hair. “I know you like overnights less than day shifts.”

  “Val,” Jenn said seriously. “I wouldn’t miss it. You can count on me, no matter what.”