Joshua Gayou - Commune - The Complete Series - A Post-Apocalyptic Survival Box Set (Books 1-4)

Just seating everyone comfortably had been the first hurdle. Jake’s group had stocked up on additional folding tables since the early days when Gibs’s people had arrived on that old school bus. Even so, they didn’t have the surface area or the chairs necessary to accommodate so many people. Thankfully, folding camping chairs of various size and design were among the items Warren’s crew had transported through the pass. The general consensus was that there would be some number of people consigned to holding a plate over their lap instead of a table.

Elk and deer were a main staple of the meal, some of it fresh off the bone, though there was nowhere near enough of that to go around. They pulled out additional provisions that had been dry-cured in salt to make up the difference. Several folks had to dip into their own stores to ensure enough meat was provided, and there was a great deal of grumbling over this. Oscar complained at one point that there was no way they could keep it up, explaining they’d be back to living day-by-day if they had to consistently feed so many. Jake did what he could to calm their fears, explaining that Warren’s people had brought enough provisions up into the mountain to last them a good few weeks; they were only going to this effort on the first day with the intent to make them all welcome.

The explanation relaxed many, though there were still mutterings expressed under their breath; unhappy and mutinous sentiments uttered when they supposed they weren’t overheard. Jake took the unease in stride, continuing on in the meal preparations as though it was the most natural thing in the world. The rest of his people, at a loss for what should be done, fell in behind him and continued on in their work.

An hour or so into the meal preparations, a knock sounded at the front door. Alish, who had been working alongside the others in the long-suffering, overburdened kitchen, trotted out to the entryway to answer. Wiping her hands on a towel that was slung carelessly over her shoulder—ink-black hair bound up in a high bun to keep it from falling into the food—she pulled open the door to reveal Lum standing outside on the porch.

She experienced a moment of unsteady strangeness at his appearance. She knew him; knew all of his men. They’d spent the last half-year living together in the valley. He’d taught them to hunt and dress their kills, to butcher and trim the meat and preserve it. He’d explained how hides could be stretched and tanned and how music could be made from simple boxes, broomsticks, and a length of wire.

And now he was here on behalf of Warren and his army. She thought she should be looking at him as an outsider now and found she could not. She realized she didn’t know how to think of him anymore. It all seemed changed, now, so irrevocably different. She opened her mouth to speak but her mind, locked as it was in such confusion, sent it no words to express.

Lum noted this and his expression fell a bit, as though he understood her hesitation. A shadow of sadness played over his eyes, and Alish hated herself for making him feel so. He spread his hands out and said, “I’m just here to help with the meal, ’Lish. Won’t ask no questions. I’ll button up if that’s what you’ns want.”

She shook her head hard enough that the bun flopped at the crown of her head. “No. Come in, please. I was just… well, I guess I don’t know what I was. Forgive me.”

“Nuthin’ to forgive, s’far as that goes.”

“Lum?” It was a small voice, emanating from the entryway to the kitchen. He looked up past Alish and saw Samantha standing in the hall. His mouth fell open, forgotten when he saw the weightless wisps of her hair floating about her head in clear defiance of earthly gravity. The lantern light behind her illuminated these, as well as the baby-fine blonde hairs of her forearms, found only at the crease of her elbows and nowhere else.

He swallowed hard. He’d last seen her only a couple of days ago and hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her ever since. Not taking his eyes away, he said, “Uh, ’Lish, could you give us a few?”

Alish glanced back at Samantha, noticed the look in her eyes, and then bowed her head to nod, not looking at either of them. She stopped at Samantha’s side as she went towards the kitchen. Resting a hand lightly on her shoulder, she whispered something in the younger woman’s ear, though Lum failed to detect any reaction or recognition to what was said. She stood there, eyes wide and hardly breathing.

Lum looked down at his hands, which were clenched into fists. He forced them to loosen up and said, “Sam…”

She crossed the distance between them rapidly. He looked up at her approach, had just enough time to see a fist coming. He dodged in surprise, and the blow glanced off his shoulder. Her knuckle impacted the stretch of bone just under the shoulder muscle, and he felt his whole arm zing in a dull kind of nerve-deadened outrage. He sucked air through his teeth and brought up his left elbow, rotating it in an attempt to work the thrum out of the arm.

“Jesus, woman!”

“You just walked out, you asshole!” she hissed loudly. “You didn’t say one… damned… thing!” She struck him again. “What the fuck is wrong with you!”

He had his hands up to fend the blows off now. He looked at her in utter shock, having never seen such a display of anger or violence come pouring out of his sweet, quiet girl. Come to think of it, she was showing such anger now that he wondered if he could even continue to call her that; his girl.

She took another swing, tears now standing out in her eyes, and he fended it off as gently as he could. He didn’t attempt to grasp her wrists; he at least knew that was the last goddamned thing he wanted to do, but he also doubted his ability to explain anything at all while he caught a pummeling.

He said, “Okay, Sam—gah! Damn! Okay! Look, you can carry on whoopin’ me long as you like or you can leave off a while and lemme talk. Can’t do both!”

The blows stopped coming. He dropped his hands a bit and cracked one eye open to look at her. He was met with an angry glare, pink spots sitting high on her freckled cheeks like pretty thunderheads. He took a deep breath and put his hands down. There was movement back at the end of the hallway. Lum glanced up to see Amanda standing in the archway, concern showing clearly on her face. He was just about to tell her all was okay when Samantha rolled her eyes, groaned, and spat, “Whoever that is back there can just piss off until we’re done!”

Amanda’s eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. She waved her left hand in a tight circle, her aggrieved expression shouting “Well, excuse me!” silently across the house. She disappeared behind the wall. Lum thought he heard Monica’s voice say, “Told you…” Exaggerated cooking sounds began to clatter and bang loudly from the rear of the house.

“Talk,” Samantha demanded.

Lum sighed, deflating slightly. He had no idea how to explain himself that didn’t make him out to be a shit-heel, so he decided to just own it. “Truth of it is I panicked. Didn’t know what to do. Had you t’one side, lookin’ at me, like. Had my CO to th’other, barkin’ at us to grab our gear and vacate. Locked up, I guess, an’ then sorta just fell back on instinct. I been followin’ this man a long time, Sam. It was habit more’n anythin’.”

“You… trotted out of here without a word because… of… habit?” Her voice had gone thin and high-pitched, almost like a sobbing whisper. It broke his heart to hear it.

“Be patient with me a bit, okay? Men like me ain’t used to explainin’ theyselves where I come from. And I wanna explain it. Wanna give you the explanation ya’ll deserve.”