Page 5 of Tower (Post-Apocalyptic Fairy Tales #1)

Despite everything, I sleep soundly, half waking a few times but never enough to get anxious or upset about my new circumstances.

The first time I come back to full consciousness is early in the morning when the mattress shifts. Levi is getting out from under the covers and sitting on the edge of the bed.

I peek at him through lowered eyelids to see what he’s doing.

Nothing.

He’s just sitting there. For more than a minute.

It’s still mostly dark in the room, but I can see enough to notice his hair is a mess and can identify the darker shading of his tattoos.

Most of his tattoos are on his arms. He doesn’t have any on his chest, but he’s got a big one on his back.

The details of it aren’t clear in this lighting, but I think it’s another tree.

I have no idea what his thing is with trees.

His underwear is riding low. I even see the hint of his butt crack. He might not be a young man anymore, but he’s fit. I like the strong contours of his shoulders, back, and hips.

He’s solid .

I haven’t moved, so he doesn’t know I’m awake. I’m wondering how long he’s going to sit there, as if he’s summoning the effort to get moving, when he finally does. He stands up with a textured exhale, pulling up his underwear and then grabbing yesterday’s jeans and shirt from the floor to put on.

I watch as he collects clean clothes from the one dresser in the room.

He’s going to the river like normal. He washes and dresses for the day there instead of in the tents like everyone else.

There’s no fresh air to be had anymore. Not since the asteroid impact sent up a thick layer of dust and debris into the atmosphere.

It was worse last year, but even now the grit seems to hang in the air.

A lot of people have died from lung problems, and half the people I met yesterday cough regularly like my mom did before she died eighteen months ago.

So Levi is obviously not after fresh air in the mornings. Maybe he likes the quiet. The peace before another day of fighting to survive begins.

I’d kind of like that too.

“Can I come with you?” I ask, surprising even myself with the question.

He turns abruptly from his route to the door. “What?”

“To the river. Can I come too? I can be ready in just a minute.”

“No.”

No. That’s all he says. No explanation. Not softening with an apology. No room for debate. Just a curt no before he walks out the door.

Fine then.

I’ll go back to sleep.

As it happens, I don’t go back to sleep. I can’t. As soon as I’m alone in the room, my mind surges into action, propelled by anxiety and insecurity and a desperate attempt to not think too much about my dad or what my life will look like from today forward.

After stewing and spiraling for thirty minutes, I finally get up. There are only a couple of people in the women’s tent, so I can take my time cleaning myself and getting ready for the day.

Still conscious of the fact that Levi is supposed to have scored a win by claiming me, I put on a cute outfit—flatteringly cut shorts, my boots, and a top that looks crocheted and has a wide neckline that always slides to one side to reveal a shoulder.

I’d really like to braid my hair, but I keep it long and loose like I did yesterday.

I can pull it back later if it gets annoying.

As I’m brushing my hair, a woman around my age comes in to go to the bathroom. I smile at her since I remember her from yesterday as being attached to a friendly, laid-back black man in the gang.

As she’s washing her hands afterward, I say, “Good morning. It’s Becca, isn’t it?”

She brightens. She’s cute with brown hair, brown eyes, and suntanned skin. She’s dressed in very tight jeans and a cropped shirt. “Good memory! And you’re Hailey, I know. Your hair is so gorgeous. How do you keep it so clean?”

“I’ve always only washed it every two or three days, even before Impact, and I think hair kind of gets used to whatever schedule you put it on. Now I wash it once or twice a week. It’s always been more dry than oily anyway.”

“I wish mine would get used to these conditions. I always needed to wash it every day, but it’s hard to do anymore.

I at least dunk it every evening, but it’s not the same as a shower.

” She’s eyeing every detail of my appearance from my boots to the little butterfly barrette I clip the front strands of my hair back with so they’re not always in my eyes.

Her observation isn’t judgmental or jealous. It’s interested.

“I know,” I say with a smile, putting my brush in the canvas bag I used to carry my stuff down. “What’s happened to our lives that hot showers have become an impossible luxury? But how are your nails still so gorgeous?”

Preening, Becca flashes her beautifully shaped burgundy fingernails. “I still do them. I’m sorry, but there are a few essentials I refuse to give up, apocalypse or not. And John always manages to scavenge me polish and supplies.”

“They’re beautiful.” I admire them some more.

“I can do yours sometime,” Becca offers, almost hesitantly. “Unless you’d rather not.”

“I would love that! Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because you’re Boss’s girl, and John is still kinda new. I mean, he’s doing good, I think. Moving ahead. But he’s not in the inner circle.”

“Oh.” I clearly have a lot to learn about the hierarchy of this group. “I don’t think that really matters with us. I’d love to have you do my nails. Thank you for offering.”

“Oh good.” She takes my arm companionably as we leave the tent, as if our best-friend status is now confirmed. “I know the reasons you came here must have really sucked, but I’m glad you’re here.”

Breakfast and dinner are served semicommunally.

There is no strict order or timeline, but almost everyone stops by the old restaurant building at some point to eat their meal.

Lunch is usually sandwiches wrapped to go since folks are separated in the middle of the day, involved in various jobs and errands.

Becca has kitchen duty this morning, so I join her, wanting to help out where I can until I get my own assigned responsibilities.

Jen is already in the kitchen when we arrive, dividing our breakfast ingredients. She greets me warmly and, when I request a task, tells me I can start cracking eggs for the scramble.

There’s a ridiculous number of eggs. I’ve never cracked so many in my life. But it’s an easy task, and I’m still feeling that rush of anxiety, barely held back by my will. Any distraction helps.

Becca chatters as she cubes up canned meat product. She asks all about my life in the old world and about every boyfriend I’ve ever had and about how much my boots cost when I bought them.

I answer her easily, and I can tell Jen is listening too, even though she’s busy slicing bread.

The scramble consists of frying up the meat product and then adding beaten eggs to the huge pan.

Soon the early birds arrive for their breakfast, eating silently as they get ready for the day or conversing in small groups at the old restaurant tables.

The former kitchen used to be divided from the dining area by a wall, but most of the wall has been taken down so the building is now one large space plus a back room that’s used as a huge pantry.

No one sits at the big round table closest to the stove and kitchen counters. I realize why about an hour into the breakfast time when Dep strolls in, grinning as he leans over to give his mom a quick kiss on the temple before he grabs his plate and carries it to the big table.

The big table must be for the inner circle.

Interesting.

I keep expecting Levi to show up, but he still hasn’t. He must be taking an extra-long meditation on the rock this morning.

I get worried when the last panful of scrambled eggs is gradually depleted. There won’t be anything left for him. He’s a big man. He needs more than some overdone egg scrapings for breakfast.

The room is still full—as is most of the big table except one chair left conspicuously empty—when I ask Jen about it.

“He’s not picky about food. He’ll eat whatever’s left.”

I frown. “Is it all right if I make him a couple of eggs fresh? This stuff left in the pan isn’t any good. Is that allowed?”

“For Boss, it’s allowed.” She smiles at me. “But only for him. We’re not allowed to help ourselves to food around here.”

“Of course not. I would never even suggest it. I’m going to fix him something real quick. No more than everyone else got.”

I crack two eggs and find a couple of unused slices of meat product from a can.

I fry up the meat in a small pan and then make a quick, neatly folded omelet.

Eggs are easy. I made them all the time for me and my dad.

But there’s a huge difference between well-cooked eggs and whatever was left from that mass-produced scramble.

I’m toasting his bread in the same pan when Levi finally pushes in through the door. He’s as no-nonsense and unsmiling as he was yesterday, and he walks immediately to the empty chair at the big table without greeting anyone.

He’s already gulped down a glass of water by the time I plate up his food and set it in front of him. I pick up his empty glass to refill it since extra water is always allowed within reason.

“Shit,” I hear one of the guys say as I walk back to the kitchen area. My back is to him, but I’m pretty sure the one speaking is the greasy guy who everyone calls Sick. “I gotta get me a princess who’ll fix me a breakfast like that.”

I flush but otherwise don’t react. I don’t even know why the comment embarrasses me. It wasn’t particularly crude.

When I return with the water, Levi is already digging into his eggs. He must like them because they’re disappearing quickly. He accepts the filled glass with a nod, swallowing down a few sips before he continues eating.

He completely ignored Sick’s comment.

He’s also completely ignored me.

Everyone at the table is waiting as Levi finishes eating. A bunch of the guys, including Sick, are obviously not in the inner circle but are positioned near the table so they can listen. I wait against the wall behind Levi’s chair, wishing it didn’t feel like everyone was staring at me.

When Levi’s plate and glass are empty, I step over to pick them up. For the first time, he glances up at me. “It was good.”

The brief mumble is all I get, but it provokes the weirdest flicker of pleasure inside me as I carry his dishes back to wash them.

Unnerving. The whole thing. That I would feel even a little pleased and proud about having made his breakfast.

Clearly the embedded hierarchy of these people is already having a perverse effect on me, shifting my natural responses.

Yes, Levi is the leader here, and that’s why I chose him. And yes, I promised him I’d act all sweet and submissive to cement his reputation. But still…

Levi might be Boss around here, but he’s not the boss of me.

Everyone was waiting for what must be a daily meeting in which they go over plans for the day and provide updates on potential dangers and issues in the region. I listen as I help clean up the kitchen, and it’s interesting.

Another gang in a nearby region has been testing boundaries.

Someone stole one of the Mayor’s trucks, and they need to help track it down.

There are rumblings of a drove moving through east of us.

Those are huge groups of violent criminals and ruffians who lay waste to any area they hit, looting every resource and killing, capturing, or raping anyone in their path.

They stick mostly to former big cities, using the large interstates to travel, so our position as a rural county of nothing but small towns is an advantage in that regard.

There’s not enough here for droves to waste their time with.

Still, of all the threats that have arisen since Impact, droves are the worst. Just the thought of them makes me ill.

The meeting concludes with Levi announcing they should set up regular patrols farther east, just in case the drove moves our way.

After that, everyone disperses. Levi doesn’t acknowledge me at all before he leaves. I’m honestly not sure he remembers I exist. He and some of the others are making another run today—this time to escort a truckload of produce from the Nelsons’ compound.

I stay in the kitchen until midmorning, helping to clean up and prep the ingredients for lunch.

When Becca and Jen finish their work shift, I figure I’m done too. I go back to Levi’s room and stay there since I’m not yet comfortable hanging out by myself when Levi isn’t around.

I bar the door like he told me.