Nash Fitch was the sort of hands on manager that liked to spend a little time each day at all of his major revenue streams. Whatever her personal feelings about Fitch were, Jenna had to admit he had a strong work ethic. That, or as Jenna strongly suspected, he knew that people are much less likely to try to rip you off if they know that you’ll show up on a daily basis.
After the Fall, refugees and survivors had tried community after community, looking for sanctuary. As more and more forts and kingdoms became saturated, the journey grew longer and more harrowing for people. Safe passage through treacherous areas became increasingly necessary and Fitch had made sure that he was able to capitalize on this need. The Kentucky River Passage was one of the safe passages he controlled. His supply of alcohol made sure he could run his boats speedily across the river, taking refugees safely to the other side. And, despite the fact that ammo was scarce, his wealth had ensured that he could actually feed the battle rifles and machine guns his soldiers used to protect the river. As such, nobody had attempted to seize the passage.
In fact, to Jenna’s knowledge, only one group had ever attempted to take what Fitch owned by force. While it had happened before she’d arrived, from the rumors she’d heard, the bandits had learned the concept of the “Code of the Traveller” in its entirety at the end of Fitch’s bowie knife. Their skulls still adorned Fitch’s desk as a reminder to any who wished to follow their examples. To date, none had.
As they walked from the truck down toward the river passage on the grassy path, Jenna could hear the rushing river, even though she couldn’t see it. In the distance, she could hear the crackle of a distant thunder storm, a common occurrence in May in Kentucky. The sky was clouding a bit, but she doubted it would rain. The weather was always unpredictable here, but she suspected it would pass by.
His eyes shrouded by wraparound sunglasses and his light camo jacket obscuring the 1911 pistol he wore at his hip, the lean, bald-headed Nash, was in the process of taking the valuables from a young boy and an older man. Jenna glanced at the two bedraggled souls, wondering if the older man was perhaps the boy’s father. Or, knowing the way things were, the child could’ve been a spoil of war for the man who would trade him as a slave or concubine. Jenna felt like she should’ve been hardened to these realities, but, somehow, she wasn’t. The thoughts still made her shudder. Knowing the proper protocol, she and Flanagan stopped at the top of the rise to wait for one of the armed guards to lead them down to Fitch.
“Jenna. How’s my favorite scribe?” Fitch asked with a terse smile.
“Going for the antiquated terminology again, Fitch?” Jenna asked dourly. Fitch was a prolific reader and actually far more intellectual than most would think.
“Hey, I know how to talk to my people, can I help it if it’s catchy?” Fitch grinned, this time with a certain flamboyance.
“Whatever,” Jenna shook her head, and then pulled out the battered postal envelope. “Look…It’s done.”
“That fast?” Nash replied with a calculated look, taking the envelope and sticking it in his coat pocket. He wasn’t crazy about people knowing what all Jenna did for him. Then he reached over to kiss her on the cheek, a movement that made her skin crawl, even though it wasn’t overly suggestive. “Why don’t you just marry me and stay here forever?”
The question was far less romantic than pragmatic. The best way to make sure you keep a top employee around who’s of an opposite gender is to get her into a marriage arrangement. It worked for the ancient empires, it continued to work now.
“I may be able to line your pocket, but I can hardly line your household,” Jenna’s response was brittle. Her sterility was one of the parts of her condition that somehow shamed her more than she could understand. “Why don’t you propose to someone who can continue the human race?”
“Jenna, Jenna, always so dark.” His tone sounded too much like pity to her and his perplexed look annoyed her.
“Yeah, that’s my curse,” she bit out. “Listen, I need to talk to you.”
“Okay,” he arched a brow at her, trying to analyze where this might be going. Failing to do so, he shrugged. “Well, I have to drop this off to the client, so you can ride along. That way, if he needs something touched up, you’ll be real handy.”
Jenna bristled, before forcing herself to relax.
“Yeah, real handy,” Jenna returned without enthusiasm, wondering if her “handiness” would be part of how he ended her life.
With that, they walked back up to the truck. By the time they arrived, she noticed that there were a number of boxes and duffels beside the truck. Had they been there when they arrived? She suspected they probably had but she’d been too tied up in her own thoughts to notice. Fitch, struck with the need to load the truck started to help Flanagan with the process, until Jenna tugged on the coat sleeve of the merchant’s camouflaged jacket. Remembering her request, he motioned for Flanagan to continue in the back of the truck, before returning to where Jenna now stood at the front bumper.
“So, what is it you wanted to talk to me about?” Nash asked, removing his sunglasses.
“I wanted to discuss our arrangement,” Jenna began lamely.
“Is something concerning you about it?” His eyes became perplexed as he looked at her.
“Yeah, I need to leave,” she stated, hating how much it seemed like her voice quavered.
“To leave? But six months is barely enough time to get things started!” He was clearly irritated, but trying to calm himself as he talked.
“I know,” Jenna returned, her eyes darting away from him.
“Haven’t I always taken good care of you here?” Fitch asked with renewed confusion and something else Jenna couldn’t identify.
“You have, but I’ve got to go.” Jenna answered, momentarily considering telling him about her dreams, but discarding the thought immediately. Even if she wanted him to know about it, they sounded crazy enough in her own mind.
“But you can’t go!” Fitch returned, his anger now seeming to get the better of him.
“Fitch, I’ve got to go,” Jenna replied, hating to repeat herself. So, instead, she decided to give an excuse that actually was partially true. “Listen, I go crazy if I stay in one place too long.”
“I meant, you wouldn’t have any protection,” Nash’ eyes glittered in the cloudy daylight. Whether it was because she’d misunderstood his earlier comment or because he was threatening her, Jenna couldn’t tell.
“I know, but mils still come through here from time to time,” Jenna continued doggedly, even though it sounded more tentative than she liked. “I could go with the next group that comes through.”
Fitch’s eyes became slits as he looked at her. Then pursing his lips, he turned on his heels and got into the driver’s seat. As the door slammed, Jenna wished she could feel some sort of relief. But Nash was a business man and letting assets leave if you can’t persuade them to stay was just bad business. As such, she was finally going to get the death she wanted…or at least, the one she felt she deserved.
As Fitch waited for her to get in the truck, she stood unmoving for a moment, knowing each step took her closer to her doom. Finally, she overcame her reluctance and stepped up to embrace her fate, closing herself into the passenger seat of the truck. A quick glance in the rear view mirror revealed Flanagan hunkered down in the bed of the vehicle.
As her door slammed shut, it seemed like the resonance was from a jail door locking her into her fate and pushing out the world outside the cab. The force of it almost seemed to push her eyes shut as she relegated herself to whatever would happen. As the feelings washed over her, she was helpless to keep from being dragged into her own memories.
Check back soon for the next exciting chapter in the Day 419
saga of the Gothic Post-Apocalyptic series, World of Depleted!
