Exchange Rate (3 page)

Charlie narrowed his eyes, his grin growing.

“What do you want? We don’t have anything.” Bodey turned, his back braced against me, blocking Charlie’s reach.

But Bodey knew what Charlie wanted.

What he’d always wanted.

Me.

“Oh, but you do. I’ve been chasing after
her
for months. Too many months. Too long.” Charlie licked his lips, a fanatical fire in his weasely eyes. “Oh, Kelly, you took your mom from me. She was...” His eyelids fell to half-mast. “You’ll be a good replacement. You look just like her.”

Bodey stepped forward, meeting Charlie in the center of the kitchen. He flexed his fists tight at his sides. “You can’t have her.” He glanced at me, unwilling to relent on that point.

“Oh, little boy, I’ll have whatever I want.” Charlie’s fist swung through the air, connecting with Bodey’s jaw before he had a chance to look back.

Bodey bent to the side, hand to his face. “You can’t have
her
.” Straightening his shoulders, he dropped his hands into a fighting position, foot back and fists protecting his face. He jerked his fingers toward his chest. “Try that again, old man.” A red spot marked the first hit.

Charlie stepped forward, his fist zooming in the direction of Bodey’s face. Bodey slid across the floor, punching downward onto Charlie’s arm before slipping back into his original position.

Grunting, Charlie spun, swinging his other arm around and catching Bodey in the side. They crashed to the ground, legs and arms a mixed blur as they rolled and oomphed on the hard floor. Flesh thudded into flesh.

I flinched, edging around them, biting my nail. What could I do? I had to help Bodey. Scanning the counter, I reached for a meat tenderizer, the wooden handle like an old-fashioned, solid wood baseball bat. Pulling the club to my shoulder, I waited, watching, holding my breath. If I could just get a good shot, I wouldn’t mind —

There!

Swinging forward with my hips and pivoting on my toes, I smacked the metal cube into Charlie’s head. He jolted upright like a rod was shoved up his spine. He fell from Bodey, slumping to the floor in a heap.

Blood dripped down Bodey’s upper lip from his nose. Numerous scrapes covered the right side of his face. Fingerprints bruised into his neck were already starting to show bright red. He shook his head and pushed from the floor, wiping at his lip. Wild and unfocused, his gaze skipped around the kitchen, landing briefly on me and then moving to take in Charlie’s unconscious form.

“Is he dead?” He crouched, checking Charlie’s wrist for a pulse.

Blood spilled onto the ground around the jerk from a head wound. I hadn’t made any effort to be soft. The bastard had everything bad coming to him. If I wanted to stretch things, I could almost convince myself Mom had helped me because of what he’d done to her back at camp.

I shrugged, dropping the tenderizer to the counter. “I don’t care.” Crossing my arms, I settled my weight to my hip.

“Why? You act like this every time we see someone dead. Like death doesn’t matter. It matters. Lives
matter
.” Bodey stood, trekking back and forth from Charlie to the sink.

I spun, angry and biting back so many words I wanted to fling at the man I loved. But I maintained my calm, or at least barely gripped my control. “Lives matter. I agree. His? Nope. It doesn’t matter. He’s the guy who burned down your place. He
doesn’t
matter. He’s the man who raped my mom, got her killed. He
doesn’t
matter!” I swallowed back the angry bile creeping up my throat. Of course, Charlie could ruin my happiness even as he lay in a puddle of his own blood. “He won’t stop.”

Bodey glanced at me, wiping his hands on a crusty towel beside the sink. “I couldn’t find a pulse. Don’t you worry what will happen when things get back to the way they were and you’re held accountable for the things you’ve done?” He thrust his hands to his hips and watched me like my answer shaped my future.

And maybe it did. What if I refused to pay for my actions later? What if I was asked how many people I’d killed? I scoffed. No way would I be honest. I hadn’t killed anyone. All I had done was protect my boyfriend. Self-defense. Plus, crime would be hard to prove with most of the population gone.

I lifted my chin. “Back to the way they were? Are you serious? Things will
never
be the way they were. They can never be that way. We will never see OREOs again or Cap’n Crunch or anything. Cold milk? Nope. So stop saying things like it might come true.” My crying days were over. I hadn’t shed a tear since the first time I thought John had died. I didn’t have enough energy or enough water in me.

In three large steps he crossed to me, taking my lower arms in his hands. “Kelly, we will. Things have to stabilize, return.” He gently shook me until my gaze met his. “Even if society doesn’t go back to the way they had it, I have to believe any family we have isn’t doomed to a life of scavenging and looting to survive. What kind of a life is that?”

Family? I couldn’t imagine having a family life beyond what we had. Our attention focused on finding food and searching for resources to trade later. A kid or two in all that craziness didn’t seem fair to either party involved.

Thundering footsteps echoed down the hall and John burst through the kitchen doorway almost at the same time the sound of the footsteps did. In seconds he took in the scene, my angry face and Bodey’s pleading one. “What happened? What’s wrong with your face?”

“I fought him. For Kelly.” Bodey crossed his arms. I hadn’t even taken in the injuries. He’d fought Charlie for me. He’d protected me and there I stood yelling at him. Regret filled me.

John inspected the scene again. He focused on me. “You asked him to fight for you?”

“No, sir. Charlie wanted to take me and Bodey said he couldn’t. So they fought.” Shame filled me and I glanced down. “I think I killed him.”

“You finished the fight? With what?” John scanned me as if for injury. His gaze lit on the tool I’d used as a weapon. “Ah. I see.”

“How’d you know we were here?” I stepped around Charlie’s body, careful not to kick him but I can’t promise I didn’t step on his fingers. Bastard.

“I’ve been tracking the group following us and their tracks led me to this neighborhood. The door wasn’t closed, so I took a chance. Looks like a good move to make on my part.” He checked the pantry beside him, pulling out a shaker of salt and garlic seasoning. Lately we’d eaten as many dandelion weeds as possible. Sometimes we grilled them and sometimes just ate them like a salad – without the dressing.

I had to ignore the body on the floor.

Everything we attempted to eat went down smoother with flavor – even if the texture was off. A couple weeks ago, I’d made a pinecone broth which wasn’t great, but filled the hole in our stomachs for a few seconds. The brief respite was welcomed after hours and days of emptiness.

As if on silent cue, Bodey and I turned to the cupboards and systematically checked them for anything we could use.

Yells from the front yard reached us in the back of the house. We lifted our heads like prairie dogs, watching, waiting, and listening for more.

John motioned us toward the back door. He muttered quietly. “This group is terrible. They were at the other end of the street when I got here. Let’s get going. Just leave him.”

I pocketed packets of instant oatmeal shoved back into the corner of a deep drawer. About four of apple and cinnamon flavored. I couldn’t wait to show the guys. We pushed out the back door, stepping down the porch steps and using the cement border to keep us from leaving a trail in the overlong grass.

We didn’t look back. I’d learned not to anymore. There was nothing behind me that would help me tomorrow or even later that day. Once we reached the woods, we hid behind a collection of thick trees and watched the house. My breathing had slowed, but my heart rate still ran fast. If Charlie really were dead, his men should find him soon and then we’d see what kind of a gang we’d just set off.

I couldn’t care about killing him. My only regret was I hadn’t strangled him to death the night Mom and I had left that stupid camp. I’d tied him to a chair and didn’t bother finishing him off. Why? What was my reasoning? Why hadn’t Mom? Justifying unjust actions didn’t make sense to me. I shook my head and focused on the yells and shouts escalating through the house.

Three men rushed onto the back patio, looking for someone to still be there. Like the killer would be stupid enough to hang out and have a picnic.

A man stepped from the door, his eyes focused and clear. His familiar features and auburn hair stirred my memory, but where had I seen him? From that distance, a bloody line down the side of his face tried blending into the line of his hair from where Bodey must have hit him with that trowel.

“Shane, what should we do?” Another man with empty arms threw his hands wide. “Charlie knew where the next camp was.”

Shane. Shane. The last Shane I’d seen had been in the woods with Mom when they’d tried kidnapping her and I’d had to shoot his friend.

“We’ll find Charlie’s killers. And we’ll deal with them.” Spitting onto the lawn, Shane hit the deck railing and spun, particles of dirt dropping from his jacket in the sunlight. The other men followed him inside, the clumps of their boots like a small stampede.

A distinct feeling of personal hatred reached me on the slight breeze. I’d pissed off Charlie, but Shane had just become my enemy on a whole new level. His and Charlie’s connection wasn’t clear, but it was there.

Turning my head, I blinked back tears, my vision of John hazy and blurred. I quietly whispered, “Why wouldn’t he stop coming after us, John? What logical reason...” I couldn’t finish. None of it made sense. And while I didn’t care about death – at least as long as it didn’t affect me personally, I didn’t want to be the one killing. Something seemed so wrong in the act. Why hadn’t Charlie just given up after the first few times he’d missed us?

“Some men – and women, too – just can’t let things go. Like an obsession.” John’s explanation seemed so simple but made perfect sense. He wrapped his arms around our shoulders and murmured, “Looks like we’re moving on at just the right time.”

I nodded, glancing at Bodey’s scrapes and bruises. He didn’t look at me.

Where had our happiness of the morning gone?

––––––––

C
hapter 3

We didn’t have to walk far outside of the neighborhood to get to John’s holding place. Stuck between two closely growing trees, our packs stacked up and covered by branches and leaves.

The simple untouched beauty of the area hid everything well. I walked by the hiding place. John stopped us with a snap of his fingers.

Hauling out our bags, John helped us pull them on and snapped our extra bags to parallel poles he dragged behind him. Bodey grabbed the bottom ends of the poles to avoid leaving a trail.

I caught Bodey’s eye as I fell into step beside him. He limped but not enough to impede his speed. I spoke low, not wanting to involve John or give away our location to anyone who might be nearby. “Are you okay?”

“Yes.” He watched John’s feet, avoiding my gaze.

“Are you mad at me?” I chewed on my bottom lip. What had I done wrong now? He’d just told me he loved me and now he was mad.

His lips appeared even softer with the border of stubble. He glanced at his dad and then peeked at me. He spoke hurriedly and hushed. “I had him. You protected me like... a little boy. I could do it.”

I recoiled, hurt by his response. “Are you serious? You’re upset because I hurt him? You
were
doing fine, but I couldn’t stand there and not help. Not after what he’d done to Mom. You can’t get hurt and he was going to kill you, if he had the chance.”

Bodey tapped the poles with his fingers. “Just a second, Dad.”

John stopped and waited as Bodey lowered the poles and then pulled me aside. John averted his gaze, picking his fingernail like it was the most interesting thing to happen to him in years.

Grasping my upper arms, Bodey met my gaze square on. “You don’t understand. I have nothing to give you. And with that stupid utensil you took away my chance to protect you. I don’t even have that now.”

I blinked back angry tears, scrunching up my lips and nose. “Were you serious? Back there? You would marry me and be with me, if you could? Do you know what that means? It means we would be
partners
. We would protect each other. Why...” I swallowed. How could he treat me like that? I didn’t do anything wrong.

He glanced in his dad’s direction, but my words shouldn’t have reached him. I spoke hushed and fast.

Bodey’s grip loosened, but he still held on. “You don’t understand. I want so much for you. I want you to be happy and comfortable... fed. I’d give you everything, if I could. You would never want for anything. But I have nothing.” He softly shook his head, lifting his hand to inspect the scrapes and rubbed skin along the knuckles. “All I have is my strength. I can protect you, defend you, but you have to let me.” He cradled my neck, his fingers branding me with his touch.

I stuck out my lower lip. “Don’t be mad at me then. I want to do the same for you.
And
I’m not as strong as you, but what I can do, I will.” I lifted my chin. “So don’t begrudge me that.”

He inclined his head. “Point taken. Oh, I do wish I could marry you now, Kel.” He touched his forehead to mine, closing his eyes. His nearness comforted me and his touch reassured me that we were fine.

John cleared his throat. “You guys okay?”

Bodey and I pulled apart. I blushed. John knew we cared about each other, but I think he blocked out just how much. Bodey intertwined his fingers with mine and lifted his chest. “Yeah, we’re fine, but Dad, I love Kelly.”

Looking between his son and me, John didn’t say a word. He waited for more. How could there not be more?

Not missing a beat, Bodey continued, his tone strong but still held at a private level for safety. “I want to marry her.”

The silence after Bodey announced something we hadn’t completely discussed could have knocked over a stone wall. I shifted on my toes, certain I would have to start running – but from what, I wasn’t sure. The air tightened around us as I waited for John’s reply.