The Blood That Binds by Madeline Sheehan
Willow
Limping past the animal paddocks, I followed the signs that would lead me to the garden—little wooden placards nailed to trees with small red flowers painted on each. I’d slept very little the night before, kept awake for a variety of reasons, the most pressing being the job I was beginning this morning—my very first job.
It was a week of firsts for me, actually. After an extensive discussion with Leisel, she’d agreed that it was time for me to move out of Doc’s cabin and begin pulling my weight around camp. Regarding living arrangements, I’d been given two options—living with Ella or living with Logan, the only two people in camp who lived alone. Having never met Ella, I’d chosen Logan—figuring the devil you knew was infinitely preferable to the devil you didn’t, and that maybe Logan was right—maybe we could start fresh. Next, we’d discussed my skills, or lack thereof, eventually concluding that I’d try my hand in the garden, tending to the crops grown in camp and I’d agreed. Working outside, doing a job that didn’t require a lot of human interaction, definitely felt like the best option for me.
The sound of bleating sheep and whinnying horses intensified my headache, the sharp smell of manure making me feel downright nauseous. Placing my hand on my stomach, I picked up my pace, hurrying past the barns.
“Hey, Willow—wait up!” Turning, I found Jordy jogging toward me, dressed in swim trunks and a faded Hawaiian print shirt, the open ends flapping as he ran.
“Hey,” I said, forcing a smile. “Wow, look at you—you’re actually wearing a shirt.”
Popping his collar, he flashed me a comically brazen look—wagging his brows while twisting his lips. “Sure am,” he replied. “You like?”
Taking a closer look at the faded pattern, I found the flowery print also contained turtles on surfboards. “It’s very you, Jordy.” I smiled again, a little less forced. “The turtles are cute.”
Jordy brushed a speck of invisible lint from his shoulder. “Just like the bloke wearing it, right?”
I burst into laughter, quickly followed by a pang of longing so sharp, my breath hitched. Jordy was silly in a way that reminded me of Lucas. It didn’t help that his height and build, and chiseled good looks were also so unnervingly similar.
“So,” Jordy continued with a sly smile. “Where’re ya’ headed this morning?”
“I’m supposed to meet Cassie.”
“Ahhh, so you’re on spud duty, huh? Did ya’ pull the short straw?”
Shrugging, I said, “I don’t think they knew what to do with me. I can’t build anything. I don’t know how to cook. I refuse to hunt, and—”
“You refuse to hunt? How come? Can’t imagine anyone surviving outside the wall without having to hunt once in a while.”
“Logan and Luke did that,” I said. “I did a lot of foraging. I don’t really like… killing.”
As I said it, I could hear the echo of distant screaming, the thud of angry fists, and then a series of gunshots—one tiny explosion after another, sending small clumps of lead tearing through the fabric of the atmosphere. Small, and yet capable of so many monumental alterations.
I blew out a slow breath, allowing the warm breeze to carry my nightmare away.
“Yeah, I feel ya.” Jordy flashed another grin. “Well, so, what’re you doing after work—you wanna hang out or something?”
Frozen in place, I blinked at Jordy. Was he asking me to hang out or was he asking me out on a date? The possibility that he could be interested in me in that way made my stomach flip, and not in a good way.
“I, um, I told Doc I would eat dinner with her today, so, you know.” I gave an apologetic shrug.
“Great,” he said. “So I’ll see you and Doc for tea, then. Oh, and, you know where to find me if you want to cool off later.” Flashing another grin, he jogged off.
I stared after him for a moment, wondering if I was just out of practice interacting with people who weren’t Lucas, the only person who’d ever known me well enough to read between the lines. Or was Jordy just that pushy? One thing was for certain, I definitely wasn’t interested in anything more than friendship. With a short shake of my head, I continued on.
Four women and a teenage boy stood near the garden entrance, loading tools from a nearby shed into several large wheelbarrows. Cassie, who I’d been introduced to only yesterday, glanced up from her work. “Hello, Willow—right on time!” she called out.
Cassie was a curvy woman with dark, close-cropped hair. She wore large hoop earrings and rings on each finger; a floppy-brimmed hat hung around her neck, and a pair of dirty gloves had been stuffed in her pants pocket. Her pale skin was heavily freckled, and she had an intricate tangle of laugh lines around each of her mismatched eyes—one brown, one blue. She could have been anywhere between thirty-five and fifty-five, there was just something timeless about her.
“Hey,” I replied quietly, feeling inexplicably shy as I took in the curious gazes of the others.
“Willow, meet Avery, Ruth, and Ella.” Cassie pointed to each of the women as she named them. Smiles and waves were exchanged from everyone but Ella, whose crossed arms and cocked hip suggested I’d made the right decision to move in with Logan.
“And this is Ruth’s boy, Stuart.” Stuart, who had a vintage cassette player clipped to his jeans and a pair of headphones over his ears, didn’t even look up.
“Not many working batteries to be found anymore, so Xavi built Stuart a solar-paneled Walkman. That man’s a genius and a godsend, if you ask me.” Shaking her head, Cassie continued, “Anyway, you’ll be working with me today, Willow, so I can show you what’s what. Go on and grab that wheelbarrow for me.”
Pulling a long chain from inside her tunic, Cassie produced a key that opened the padlock on the garden gate. It was nothing like the impressive wall surrounding camp, just a stretch of chain-link fencing offering light protection to the crops inside. Holding the gate open, Cassie gestured for the others to enter, each of them pushing their own wheelbarrow.
“Compost is over there,” Cassie said, pointing. “And the good stuff is this way.” She gestured me inside; grabbing the wheelbarrow, I pushed forward.
The garden was lush with color and overflowing with crops. Rows of raised beds greeted me, each teeming with growth; bright-yellow squash, dark-green bell peppers, red and purple heads of cabbage. Cucumber vines hung from climbing trellises; tomato plants grew inside cylindrical cages, their green and red fruit visible from within. Elevated planters sat covered in greenery, each one labeled with a sign detailing its contents: CHARD. ROSEMARY. PARSLEY. DILL WEED. It was nothing short of a rainbow—a well-organized, properly constructed rainbow.
“Are you any good at growing?” Cassie asked.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I like plants. I mean, I like nature and stuff, but I’ve never tried growing anything before… ”
“My mom loved plants,” I continued. “She had a lot of houseplants but they never lasted very long. My dad used to tease her and tell her she loved her plants to death.”
Cassie threw her head back, laughing. “So I’ll be working with a black thumb, then?”
“A black thumb?” I asked.
Glancing back at me, she smiled warmly. “It’s the opposite of a green thumb.”
A nervous laugh escaped me. “Oh. Yeah, maybe.”
“Well, we’ll see what we can do with you. Leisel mentioned you’re good at identifying plants?”
“Yeah, sort of. My, um, my boyfriend’s mom used to garden. She taught him a few things and he taught me. Mainly what’s edible and what’s not.” I swallowed past the lump forming in my throat and shrugged.
“Invaluable information to have in these unprecedented times,” Cassie replied. “I’m guessing bugs and dirt don’t bother you?”
“No, not at all. I actually kinda like bugs. They’re just trying to survive, same as us… ” I trailed off as we approached several small trees, their spindly branches hanging heavy with bright-red apples. They were young trees, stabilized by thick wire wrapped around their trunks, affixed to wooden posts on either side. I slowed as we passed, staring at the juicy-looking fruit.
“Red Delicious,” Cassie said, laughing again. “Just about ready for picking, too. How do you like your apple pie, Willow? Hot or cold?”
I stuttered and stammered through my answer, much to Cassie’s amusement. “We’ll start with hot and go from there,” she said. “You don’t mind honey in your pie, do you?”
“Honey?” I repeated dumbly.
“Sugar is a hot commodity these days, and we haven’t come across any in a long time. So I use honey in all my baked goods. We have our own apiary, behind the horse stable, though no one dares go near it but me.”
Apple pie. Honey. Baked goods. An apiary. I comprehended what Cassie was saying, and yet, I couldn’t fathom it. Apple trees were one thing, but warm apple pie with fresh honey was on a whole other level.
“We’ll be working just up there.” Cassie gestured ahead. “Potatoes and squash are ready for harvest.”
To the left were several farmed rows covered in bright-yellow squash growing along leafy vines. To the right were dozens of raised beds containing sprawling bushy plants, some of them sprouting tiny blue flowers.
“You too, Ella!” Cassie called out. “Over here, please—squash and potatoes today.”
Glancing back, I found Ella trudging up behind me, violently shoving her wheelbarrow along. Her long blonde hair was tied to one side in a thick braid and, although her expression was partially hidden behind large sunglasses, the flat line of her mouth gave the distinct impression that she was unhappy. Dropping her wheelbarrow with a thud, she said, “Newbs always get the shit jobs.”
Cassie remained smiling. “Very true, Ella. I like to start everyone off with the hardest tasks; makes you more grateful for the easy ones.” Looking at me, she said, “Don’t mind Ella, she’s always grumpy in the morning.”
“Whatever,” Ella snapped. Reclaiming her wheelbarrow, she marched off in the direction of the raised beds.
“See those first twelve beds?” Cassie continued on jovially as if Ella’s temper tantrum was an everyday occurrence. “Those are my early bloomers—they all need to be harvested today. The main crop will be ready by the end of summer and everything after that will be ready around Christmastime.”
Signaling me to follow, Cassie continued, “Now, the best way to dig up potatoes is to use your hand and very gently pull up the whole plant. Go slow and be careful—you don’t want to break the stem.”
Cassie bent down beside a bed, pulling a trowel from her back pocket. Using the tool, she loosened the soil around the plant; setting the trowel aside, she dug her hands into the soil, and slowly pulled up the entire plant. Once free, I counted eight potatoes hanging from their mother, all varying in size. One by one, Cassie carefully plucked six of them, placing them in the wheelbarrow.
“Then we put it back and let the little ones grow some more,” she said, repotting the plant with quick, sure hands. “And we say a little prayer of thanks.”
Straightening, Cassie held out the trowel and nodded at the next plant. “Now you try.”
Reluctantly, I took the tool and bent down beside the bed. Knees planted firmly in the dirt, I began digging carefully around the plant. Once the soil was loose, I dug my fingertips around the base, feeling my way down until I couldn’t feel any more plant. Taking a breath, I tugged slowly upward, mindful of the roots, revealing a bounty of fresh, fat potatoes.
“Just pull them off?” Feeling uncertain, I glanced up at Cassie.
“Just pull them off,” she repeated warmly.
Plucking off the biggest potatoes, I placed them into the wheelbarrow, then pushed the nearly empty plant back into the earth. Finished, I stood, wiping off my dirty hands on my jeans.
“You’re a natural!” Cassie exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “Well done, Willow.”
I found myself smiling in the face of her praise; I couldn’t ever remember being good at anything before. Other than causing trouble. I’d never had any lofty career goals; all I’d ever wanted was to be free of my suffocatingly small hometown and see the world. Then later, living wild, I’d never felt any real sense of purpose. Forced to live day to day, most of my time had been eaten up with chores necessary for survival. But this—digging my hands in the dirt, contributing to something bigger than me—felt damn good.
Cassie remained by my side while I continued on; each successful harvest leaving me feeling more secure in my newfound ability. Soon, she left me on my own, happily stating thatshe wasn’t needed anymore.
In time, Ella—who’d stormed off to the opposite end of the potato beds—had worked her way back to me. Digging side by side, I tossed surreptitious glances in her direction, wondering what her deal was, curiosity eventually getting the better of me.
“Hey, so, did you say you were new here?”
“No,” Ella said woodenly, keeping her eyes on her work. “I’ve been here a while—Cassie just likes to torture me.” Letting out an angry sigh, she continued. “I left, and now I’m back, and that’s all you need to know, new girl.”
“Willow,” I said sharply, feeling a surge of indignation. Yeah, Ella and I definitely wouldn’t have worked as roommates.
“Excuse me?” Ella peered over the top of her sunglasses.
“My name is Willow.” I purposefully punctuated each syllable. “Not new girl.”
With a roll of her eyes, Ella pushed her sunglasses back up the bridge of her nose. “Okay? And what? Do you want a medal for having a name?” Scoffing, she stood, brushing the dirt from her pants.
My temper flared and I jumped to my feet. “No, I don’t want a fucking medal, but some respect would be great. Thanks.” Before she could respond, I’d grabbed hold of my wheelbarrow and jerked it away. Dropping down beside an untouched bed of potatoes, I resumed working.
I worked diligently until meeting Ella in the middle once more. Pulling her sunglasses from her face, revealing delicate ivory features and cheeks smattered with freckles, she presented me with a canteen from her hip. “Thirsty, Willow?”
I stared at her. Back in school, when someone would speak to me the way Ella was, I usually ended up with a week’s worth of detention for fighting. Only the more I stared at Ella, noting the tight lines around her eyes and mouth, I felt a sense of familiarity. Pain recognized pain.
“You’re sweating like a pig,” Ella continued, shaking the canteen at me. “I can’t have you dying of dehydration and leaving me to pick all the potatoes, can I?”
My lips curled in a silent snarl. Of course I was sweating—I’d been working my goddamn ass off. I was hot and sweaty, and covered in dirt, my back and knees aching as if I’d been curled up inside a wooden box for hours… but it felt good. I felt good. And I wasn’t going to let Ella ruin my first good mood in months. Snatching the canteen from her, I drank deeply, not even pausing for breath until I heard Logan’s angry voice echoing in my thoughts, demanding that I ration it. Reluctantly, I handed it back.
“Finish it,” she said, pushing it back at me. “It’s not like we don’t have more.”
Feeling instantly foolish, I muttered my thanks and drank what was left.
“Hungry, girls?” Cassie headed toward us, a burlap bag brimming with shiny red apples slung over her shoulder. Tossing two apples our way, Ella bit into hers right away, crunching loudly as she chewed, while I stared at the flawless fruit, turning it over in my hand.
It wasn’t as if it was the first time I’d seen an apple since the beginning of this nightmare, but it was the first time that eating one felt like a perfectly normal thing to do. I didn’t have to save it for later or share it; I didn’t have to figure out how to ration a single apple for the next week. All those years we’d spent searching for our next meal, living in a constant state of hunger, were really and truly behind us now.
Cassie bent down in front of me. “Everything okay, Willow?”
I swallowed. “Yeah,” I whispered, bringing the apple to my lips. Biting down, juices exploded in my mouth, trickling down my chin.
Smiling, Cassie patted me on the shoulder and stood. “Good to hear. Well, girls, I’m headed over to Doc’s—figured with everything poor Hank’s going through, he could use an apple or two himself.”
“She likes you,” Ella stated matter-of-factly, frowning at Cassie’s rapidly retreating form. “You won’t be picking potatoes very long.”
A burst of laughter landed me with a piece of apple caught in my throat. As I choked through my next several breaths, Ella snapped, “What the hell is so funny?”
“Nothing really…” I continued to cough until I’d cleared my throat. “I mean, it’s just funny because no one ever used to like me… except for Luke,” I quickly amended. “My um… my… ” my words trailed off. I didn’t know what to call Lucas anymore. I couldn’t keep calling him my boyfriend, could I? And my dead boyfriend didn’t exactly have the nicest ring to it.
“I get it,” Ella said with a bitter sigh. Looking out across camp, she chucked her apple core away. “I have one of those, too.”
“Oh, I, um, didn’t realize,” I stammered.
“How would you? You’re not psychic. You asked where I went. Well, I went with him, and then… ” She paused and sighed again. “And then I came back.”
I shook my head. “Where’d you guys go?”
“Everdeen—his camp. We used to hook up occasionally, you know? Like when we’d see each other at trades and stuff, and then one day he asked me to stay with him.” She shrugged again. “So I did.”
I blinked at her, the apple in my hand forgotten. “Wait, what? There’s another camp? A camp like this one?”
“It’s not as big as Silver Lake, but they do okay.” Ella tilted her head to one side. “You seem surprised.”
“I am surprised,” I breathed. “I didn’t think places like this existed anymore; we hadn’t come across a camp in years until this one, and now you’re telling me there’s two?” Stunned, I continued to shake my head. “Everdeen—how close is it?”
“About a three day drive—a week if we take the horses. We trade with them a few times a year; the next trip will be right after the fall harvest. If you want to go, you’ll have to tell Leisel now—the convoys fill up quickly.”
Remembering the apple in my hand, I took another bite. Chewing, I wondered how many communities we’d missed over the years, questioning what might have gone differently if we’d found one years ago. Wondering if Lucas might still be alive. At that last thought, my mood soured.
“Anyway,” Ella said. “We’ve got more fucking potatoes to pick.” Rising, she stalked off down the row muttering to herself. “More fucking potatoes. More fucking squash. More fucking apples. More fucking herbs. More fucking bullshit. More, more, more.”
Lounging in bed after work, nursing the aggravated ache in my leg, I was leafing through an old magazine I’d found tucked inside the bathroom cupboard when Logan arrived home. Fresh from work, he was shirtless, with his tool belt slung over one shoulder. Pausing in the entranceway, he glanced at me as if he were surprised to find me here—the same look he’d given me each day since I’d moved in. Tossing the magazine aside, I sat up and gave a small wave, feeling instantly stupid for doing so. Dropping my hands in my lap, I muttered hello.
Logan looked up from toeing his boots off. “Hey. How was your first day?”
“Good, I guess. I like Cassie. I don’t know about Ella, though.”
“Ella?” he asked. “Blonde girl? Always wearing sunglasses?”
“That’s her,” I replied.
“Yeah, she seems like a bitch.”
“Maybe.” I shrugged. “I think she’s just in a lot of pain.”
Logan puttered through the cabin quickly before heading inside the bathroom, closing the door behind him. I stared after him, wondering when modesty had crept back into our lives. Instead of changing without reservation, Logan and I now took turns dressing inside the bathroom behind a closed door. The closed doors at every turn, was perhaps the strangest thing of all.
He reemerged moments later with a wet face and beard and wearing clean jeans and T-shirt. “You headed to dinner?”
“I’m not really hungry,” I admitted. Shrugging, I turned my attention to a fraying thread on the knee of my jeans. “I think I’ll probably stay in tonight.” While it was true that working in the blistering heat all day hadn’t done my appetite any favors, it was the thought of having to see everyone again, after having just seen them all at breakfast, along with Jordy’s insistence that he sit with me this evening. Just the thought of having to try and make conversation felt… overwhelming.
Logan frowned deeply. “Is it your leg? Do you need to see Doc?”
I waved my hand at him. “No, it’s fine—I’m fine. I’m really not hungry. I’m exhausted and, I mean, I’ve had enough of people for one day.”
Logan took a seat on his bed, sighing. “Tell me about it,” he muttered. “EJ… he never shuts the fuck up.”
As we lapsed into silence, I tried to think up something more to say. Try as we might to make small talk with one another, to start fresh, things remained impossibly awkward and tense, as if our history couldn’t help but stifle a fresh start that might be possible otherwise. If Lucas were still here, I knew what he would do, what he’d always done when it came to Logan. No matter how stubborn, no matter how hardheaded or surly Logan would become, Lucas had always tried to reach him.
I cleared my throat. “Hey, so, do you know about Everdeen? I guess it’s another camp that Silver Lake trades with sometimes.”
Logan glanced up, blinking through his bleary-eyed stare. “Yeah, I’ve heard it mentioned—I think it’s some sort of gated trailer park.”
“Don’t you think it’s crazy that there are two camps like this?” I continued. “And that they’re close enough to trade? I mean, how many camps do you think we’ve missed over the years?”
“Camps like this one? Not many, is my guess. Yeah, there’s other people out there, but are they as well organized and as vigilant as this place? Not a chance in hell. ”
“You never know,” I mused. “There could be others.”
“Yeah, and you remember what some of those other places were like, right? Everyone was fucking nuts. And that was early on. Shit tends to roll downhill.”
“Or maybe,” I replied smartly, with a finger in the air. “Some of those places got their shit together and rolled it right back up the hill. Maybe they’re all doing great right now. Maybe they’ve elected a president and a Congress and they’re getting ready to send monkeys to the moon.”
Logan blinked back his surprise, a smile tugging at his eyes and mouth, before falling back on his bed with a short, “Fuck that. If the monkeys get to leave this shithole planet, then we’re going with them.”
Chuckling, I fell back on my own bed. And this time, when the cabin eclipsed into silence, it felt substantially less awkward and infinitely more companionable. I nearly laugh out loud as I shook my head.
Logan and I, companionable?
Ha. There was no freaking way.