Free Razor Girl by Marianne Mancusi Page B

He would have let them be killed if it was up to him.”
    Molly whirled around to see a good-looking, barrel-chested man approach. He had long dark hair tied back in a ponytail, and a trim beard. He walked up to Chase and Molly and held out his hand. “I’m Tank,” he said. “Chase’s brother.” He looked her up and down. “I wondered where my little brother had gone. Ran off like an idiot. Now I see why.”
    “He always thinks the best of me,” Chase grunted. “Tank, this is Molly. Remember the Andersons? From down the street?”
    Tank gave her a double take. “Molly Anderson?” he repeated. He looked her up and down and whistled. “ Damn. ”
    “Don’t mind him,” Chase snapped. “He’s a bit desperate. Six years without a chick, you know.”
    “Hey, what about Anna Simmons?” Tank protested. “When we were still at the refugee camp.”
    “Yeah, right. That happened.”
    “If she told you otherwise it was only to keep you from getting all jealous.”
    “As if I’d want that skank.”
    Molly shook her head at the banter. It was kind of nice, in some ways, to be back among humanity, and among humanity that was acting so casual. She’d been away for too long—even if the men were still idiots fixated on sex. “So, you’re the one responsible for all of this?” she asked Tank, gesturing to the kids.
    “Yeah, he is. Tank’s a regular Pied Piper,” Chase spoke up. “I swear, he must have some kind of flute stuffed in his pocket.”
    “Nah, man, I’m just happy to see you.”
    Raising an eyebrow, Chase stared at his brother.
    Tank turned back to Molly. “Yeah, I’m the leader of this here motley crew. When all the adults started dying, I realized someone had to step up to the plate. And I was the oldest.”
    “And the dumbest,” Chase snorted.
    Tank smacked him in the shoulder. “Pot, kettle, black, Chasey,” he said. “Anyway, I combed the city for survivors and brought them all back here. We have a pretty good set-up going on. Sleeping bags, food, water, toys. Even rigged up some electricity.”
    “Limited electricity. Which you are currently wasting,” Chase remarked, motioning to the lights.
    “Hey, the children wanted to play.”
    “Softie.”
    Tank shrugged, not denying it. “I try to make it as good for them as possible,” he said. “I mean, it’s not much of a life here, but it’s better than being out there.”
    Molly thought about the zombie she had fought and how ithad come out of nowhere. She couldn’t imagine a child being able to cope. “I can see that,” she agreed.
    Tank studied her, and his eyes grew a bit cold. “So, what’s your story?” he asked. “Last I remember, you were standing up my brother on judgment day. Get a better offer? Not that beggars can be choosers these days. We’re happy to have you.”
    Molly cringed. This was so not the conversation she wanted to be having. “What happened? It’s a long story,” she mumbled. “My dad needed me and…” She trailed off. What good would it do to explain? In their eyes, she was a traitor. That’s how it’d always be. “Sorry to leave you guys hanging.”
    “No skin off my back,” Tank said. He shrugged. “In fact, I should thank you. Because of you bailing, there was room in the van for Anna Simmons.” He paused, then asked, “So, what happened to your old man? He was one of the few people who was probably prepared for this, considering who he was.”
    Molly bristled, waiting for an insult. One didn’t come, so she forced herself to relax. “I believe he’s down in Florida,” she said. “That’s where I’m headed.”
    “What’s down there?”
    “Disney World.”
    Tank laughed. “Disney World? You mean, like, Mickey Mouse and all that shit?”
    “Well, I doubt Mickey’s still around, but yeah, that’s the place.”
    “Y’all got a sudden urge to ride Space Mountain?”
    She laughed and shook her head, though the joke wasn’t funny. “My father and his scientist buddies