Commodity - Page 25

“You’re staying here,” Falk says again. He looks over to me and gives me a stern look. “You need to rest your leg, and we’re going to find decent shelter for the night. I don’t want to waste the time getting back to my place until I know for sure what else I need.”

“Seems like that’s something you could do on your own,” Beck says.

“I’ll go,” Caesar pipes up. “God knows what you’d consider nutrition anyway. Ryan and I can check it out and bring back what we need for a couple of days. Maybe we’ll find more survivors as well.”

“Better ask him if that’s okay,” Beck says with a snort. “Maybe he’s already got you pegged for wood gathering.”

Beck stomps back off toward his house, and Caesar sighs.

“Don’t mind him,” he says quietly. “Everything he’s ever owned was in that place. He’s just in shock.”

I look down at the ground, unsure what to do or say next. Conflict has always made me uncomfortable, but recently my life has revolved around it, and I don’t like it. Whenever I witness people arguing, it reminds me of how my parents would fight when I was young.

“I’ll get him to go with me,” Caesar says. “Is there anything you need?”

“See if there are any camping supplies,” Falk says, “especially lanterns and batteries. Flashlights, too.”

“Will those batteries work?” Caesar asks.

“They worked in my flashlight. Maybe the alkaline ones are fine. We’ll just have to figure it out as we go.”

“Will do.” Caesar heads off.

A crash from near Beck’s house catches our attention. Beck is kicking at the rubble and screaming obscenities while Caesar tries to calm him down.

“Asshole,” Falk mutters under his breath.

“Beck?”

He glances over at me, his eyes dark, but doesn’t speak.

“You don’t like him.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because in the infantry, we hate everyone else.” Falk hefts the rifle over his shoulder. “Also, because he’s a liar.”

“How do you know that?”

“He’s an anthropology professor with an assault rifle. You don’t find that odd?”

“I didn’t really think about it. You have a lot more guns than he does.”

“I have a reason for it.”

“Maybe he’s been waiting for the zombies, too.” I smile, trying to make light of the antagonism, but Falk isn’t amused.

“Stay clear of him,” Falk says with a growl.

“How am I going to do that?”

“Just stick by me.”

“Fine.” I’m frustrated by the nature of Falk’s answers.

Falk doesn’t get a chance to respond. Beck and Caesar walk back to us.

Tags: Shay Savage Science Fiction
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