Free Feast by Jeremiah Knight Page B

ability to cause him harm.
    The three people sharing the concrete floor with them—two men and one woman—were in various states of living decay. The oldest of them, a skinny man with wispy gray hair, looked the worst off. He stared back at Anne with defiant eyes, as though he resented her assessment, but was still unable to prove her wrong. The second man and the woman, were huddled up together in the back corner, clutching each other, more afraid of Jakob than he was of them. They had the wide-eyed look of people who expected the worst to happen at any moment, probably because it often did.
    Jakob’s fear turned to pity. What had these people endured? None of them looked dangerous, not even the defiant old man. They looked...normal. Emaciated and hungry, but normal.
    “I’m Jakob,” he said to the group. When no one replied, he motioned to Anne and said, “This is my sister, Anne. And my...” he glanced at Alia. They had been romantically involved, to be sure, but they’d never had a discussion about official titles. What were they? Friends with kissing benefits? Girlfriend and boyfriend? Would they become more? Were they already? Maybe romance was accelerated at the end of the world, when there was no one else left? He decided to jump to the logical conclusion. “...my girlfriend, Alia.”
    Relief flowed through his muscles when she smiled and gave a slight wave. It was corny, he knew, to be concerned about his relationship with Alia while they were being held prisoner inside a hostile compound, separated from his father and Ella, but... Well, hormones paid the apocalypse no attention. And with the whole world out to eat him, a little bit of teenage affection—Anne called it ‘obsession’—kept him sane. And that was a good thing. One of the few left in the world from his point-of-view.
    No one replied. Blank eyes stared back. For a moment, he thought the three of them might actually be dead. Then the woman blinked.
    Jakob focused on her. She had ratty-looking blonde hair that hung in clumps over her dirt-covered face. He’d seen the look before. Hell, he emulated it. “Were you living on the outside?” he asked. “In the wild?”
    The woman’s eyes twitched.
    “We were, too,” Jakob said. “At least, for the past few weeks. Our farm was attacked.” He hitched his thumb toward Alia. “Hers, too. Now we’re here.”
    “And here you will stay,” the old man said, his voice rattling like he’d enjoyed a few too many packs a day. Jakob reassessed the man. Was he starving or just miserable from nicotine withdrawal?
    “H-how long have you been here?” Alia asked.
    The old man turned toward the couple. “Two years in the camp. About a week in the cell?”
    “For what?” Jakob asked.
    “Well,” the old man said. “I took too long with the lemonade. These two were caught...well, doing what men and women sometimes do. And if that sounds ridiculous to any of you, the only men and women allowed to engage in such activities are those approved by Mason, and that is generally relegated to Mason himself and a handful of his most trusted hands. Mason’s got himself a real harem inside that house. Most of them want no part in it, but they don’t really have a say anymore.”
    Anne clenched her fists. “Why doesn’t anyone help them?”
    The old man grunted like a cantankerous horse. “Most people living outside the house never see them, let alone communicate with them. I only know them because I worked inside, too. I’m a handy kind of guy, and I know my way around a kitchen. Was a line cook in Philly, for a while. Aside from his motley gang of enforcers and guards, I was one of the few men let inside the house. Mason believed I was too old to fraternize with his wives.” The man tapped the side of his nose with his forefinger. “More than a few of them know that’s not true. I might have twenty years on Mason, but the plumbing is still good, and I’ve spent more than a few nights tending to