The Lair

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Carter

I should have known it wasn’t going to be easy. It’s never easy.

“Why should we trust you?”

Wilson and Trinia stood shoulder to shoulder glaring at me with equal expressions of animosity, but it was Trinia who had spoken.

I had sent Zeke out to find Trinia and Wilson the night before, but he hadn’t found them until the next morning. Thankfully, I’d at least gotten my whole crew in before dusk. That was the only thing that had gone right. Unfortunately, by the time Zeke actually found Trinia and Wilson around noon the next day, he brought them to the Dean’s office, where I’d set up command. So to them, it looked as though I was nothing but some random Collab who had taken over in the Dean’s absence. Despite Pit Bull’s claims that I had the reputation of a superhero, they were clearly suspicious.

“You don’t have to trust me,” I told them. Except, they did have to trust me; this plan of mine wouldn’t work if they didn’t. “You’re not idiots. You must have noticed things are going to hell here.”

Wilson and Trinia exchanged a look. They obviously knew each other well enough that they were able to have a whole mini-conversation with their eyes.

“Look, I’m not a Collab. I came here to help. Here’s the situation as I know it: your Dean has pulled out. You’ve got a Farm here of roughly a thousand Greens and around twenty-five Collabs holding it together. As far as I know, there’s a plan in place to bring the fences down and let the Ticks have you, because the powers that be think it’ll make the Ticks easier to kill. Either you believe me or not. Either you let us help you or not. Your choice.”

They still looked unconvinced. I wasn’t even sure I blamed them.

But, frankly, I didn’t have time for this.

I marched over to the door and stuck my head out. “Hey, Zeke.”

Zeke looked up then hopped to his feet. “Yeah?”

“You said there was another guy. Joe. Where is he?”

“I don’t know.”

“Find him. I want to—”

“Preacher Joe is—” Trinia started to say, but then she broke off when I whirled around toward her.

“Preacher Joe?”

“Yeah. That’s what we call him. He’s . . .” She wrinkled her nose, not in distaste, but more in confusion. “He’s started up a church, I guess. People meet in one of the lecture halls and listen to him.”

“What does he preach about?”

“Hope,” Wilson said simply.

Could Preacher Joe be the Joe I’d known? When I’d met him at Lily’s Farm, Joe had been known as Stoner Joe. He’d set up a shop of sorts where people came in and traded for things they wanted or needed. Joe had been an easygoing guy who was hard not to like, but he’d also been fiercely devoted to McKenna and their baby. He’d been a good guy. He’d also been one of the few people I’d met since the Before who still held out hope that there might be a God somewhere who gave a damn about humanity.

Had Stoner Joe turned into Preacher Joe? Stranger things had happened.

If this Preacher Joe was the guy I’d known, then I sure as hell needed him here to convince these people I wasn’t here to butcher them.

“Find Preacher Joe,” I ordered Zeke. “Get him in here.”

“You can’t just arrest people!” Trinia launched herself toward me, but Wilson grabbed her and held her back. “People won’t stand for you arresting Preacher Joe! We’ll rebel! You can’t—”

I’d had enough, so I grabbed her by the arms. Wilson instantly bristled, but I didn’t do more than hold on to her to get her attention.

“Listen to me! I get it. You feel completely overwhelmed with the responsibility of taking care of all these Greens. That’s what Zeke said about you, that you take care of all the young kids. All of them. Was he right?”

Trinia’s eyes filled with tears. She was still looking at me with undisguised hatred, but with fear, too. Not for herself even, but for all those kids she’d put herself in charge of. Slowly she nodded.

“So you’re taking care of all the kids who are thirteen to . . . what? . . . fifteen or so? That’s about one-third of the Farm. You’ve appointed yourself the savior of over three hundred kids.”

She swallowed, but nodded again.

Yeah, I knew her type. That’s the kind of thing Lily would do. When bad shit like this happened in the world, you had to find some reason to go on. Some reason to keep putting one foot in front of the other. For Lily, it had been Mel. For Trinia, it was those kids. And unless I was mistaken, for Wilson, it was Trinia.

“You feel like if you make the wrong choice, it’s not just you who pays, it’s all of them. And it terrifies you.”

She dropped her gaze and averted her face. I let go of her arms and stepped away. She immediately went to Wilson, and he just held her.

“Hey, I get it. I wouldn’t want to trust me, either. To make matters worse, I can’t even promise we’re going to do any good here. I can’t promise we can get the fences back up and even if we do, that’s only a temporary fix. If it’s been three or more weeks since a food truck has come, then you’re all short on energy. We have to get out of here and fast. But I’m not going to lie. I have no way to get all of you up to Utah, where maybe—maybe—it’s safe. We’re going to have to find cars. We’re going to have to caravan it. I’m not going to sugarcoat it. We’re in trouble. Serious trouble. I can’t promise that we’re all going to make it, okay. Hell, I can’t even hope that. All I can promise is that there are guys here who know how to kill the Ticks. People who will help you fight them.”

Trinia was openly sobbing now, but her fear, her gut-wrenching terror, seemed to have morphed into something else. Determination, maybe. Despite the tears, she seemed stronger than she had when she’d first walked in.

Wilson stroked the back of her head reassuringly, but looked up at me. “Can they really be killed?”

“Yeah, they can. I’ve killed them myself.”

“God, I hope you’re right.”

Yeah. Me, too.