Free Breach (The Blood Bargain) by Macaela Reeves Page A

work.  He took half the stack and gave me the other half.
    “First copy is mine, second goes in the Hall of Records is back there.”  He pointed toward the end of the hall, passed where the offices were.
    “We have a record hall?”  I kept the amazement off my face, had we really reverted to paper pushing every detail?  I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised, with my Dad and Richard on the council we had over fifty years combined experience in government red tape.
    “It’s not much, just a ton of filing cabinets with births deaths events and crop information, our desperate attempt to record and document the colony for whatever passes for history in the future. Key is in the lockbox in the hall just outside the door.  Combination is 230, remember that.”
    “Two thirty got it.”
    “If you forget, just think of dentists.”
    “Dentists?”
    “Tooth Hurty.”  He tapped his front teeth, then let out a large barrel chested laugh. Richard’s sense of humor was somewhat eccentric but had to be appreciated. “Now if you excuse me, I need to get these figures to Graham.”
    “Why is Graham in charge anyway?  Just because the guy used to be the richest man in the southern half of the state doesn’t mean he gets to run the apocalypse.”  I knew I probably shouldn’t be saying that out loud, but Richard was trustworthy.
    “Hey he wasn’t the first choice.”
    “Who was?”
    “Steve didn’t tell you?”  Richard huffed.  “Course he didn’t.  Your Dad has this way about him, as you probably know.  When the world was in a mess he stepped up, with his military and federal background people gravitated to him as a source of authority.  When we first were trying to set up the council, he was the natural chair nomination.”  Richard smiled.  “Except he refused.”
    “Why would he do that?”  I had never known my Dad to back away from additional responsibilities. Ever.
    “He said you were more important.  You were fourteen and frightened, he didn’t want to take all that on and leave you to fend for yourself.” “Bet he regrets it now.”  I mumbled.
    “I don’t think so.  Despite his boorish behavior, your father knows what’s really important.  Don’t ever doubt that.”  With a goodbye pat the shoulder Richard walked off, disappearing around the corner at the end of the corridor.
    Our hall of records appeared to be an auditor's office in its former life, all the furniture had been dragged out and replaced with a multitude of large grey filing cabinets.  The key from the little lock box opened the door with a giggle and a twist.
    It wasn’t hard to locate where my signed reports should go, after all Agriculture does start with A putting it at the front of the room.  The 2022 folder was the last one last in the top drawer, I slipped my papers in and slide the cool metal drawer shut.
    Then I turned my attention to the other labels, curious to what was written in this little
    room.  Supply inventories, council meeting notes the usual drivel occupied the first few cabinets.  There was a file labeled events; looking through a few of the folders it appeared to largely contain personal statements from the outbreak.  I couldn’t read any of that, it was too heart wrenching.  I put those folders back and softly shut the cabinet.
    On a whim I searched both the M and P sections for any references to Project Moses. The files we had found in the federal building from the time of the outbreak that had detailed my father's orders to rendezvous here in Junction.  There was not a single scrap of paper with that term on it in either cabinet, not that I was surprised.  Even after the collapse of society it appeared spooks and feds kept to their training.  Whatever information there was probably burned after memorization or was buried ten paces west of a crescent shadow that only appeared at high noon. Something like that.
    Looking at the rest of the alphabet the V’s got my eye.  There was