Free Alive and Fighting: New in Town by Cole Connelly Page B

out in a storm. That's when he opens the hive to feed." Travis warned, returning to the tattoo.
                  "That's good to know…What is the zombie/human ratio around here, or does anyone know?" Amy questioned, reconsidering her new home.
                  "Well, that all depends on who you ask. The Vultures, sciencey research types, they say it's probably five to one. The Great Apes on the other hand, now these guys I trust more, information's their business. They say the ratio is as high as thirteen to one, I don't like believing that number, but it makes more sense." Travis elaborated, switching to red ink to finish the hammer handles.
                  "Are those groups Tribes?" Amy asked, watching her tattoo's progress
                  "Yep, them, you Harvesters, and…The Reapers and Klan. None of the Tribes are perfect, but those last two are bad news. Your people can tell you all about the Reapers, they used to be part of y'all. Klan on the other hand, just don't get involved with them, they're nothing but bad news." Travis warned, filling in the red half of the tattoo's background.
                  "Hmm, so where do you fit into all these Tribes?" Amy wondered, watching as a rag adorned Graveyarder youth passed quickly in front of the shop.
                  "Ha ha, I'm part of what the rest of the city calls The Unaffiliated. Basically everyone that's more than a simple Graveyarder scavenger, but less organized than a Tribe gets lumped into one big group. Ironically enough, we've kind of pulled together over the years. Well, I guess it wouldn’t be right to leave the Knights out of our history lesson, they aren't exactly a "tribe," but there isn't really a better word for them. Long story short, they're old money, clinging to Pre-fect castes and classes. They use dollar bills and working tech to entice mercs to throw their lives away all so they need never leave their Ivory towers." Travis responded, shaking his head. "Don't get me wrong they aren't all bad people…they’re just misguided is all. You can't have a silver spoon in your mouth when people are dying of hunger outside your walls."
                  "I take it dollars aren't the preferred currency around here anymore? They still held some value in Alamo…y'all barter or something?" Amy asked, happy she'd spent most of her cash on tangible goods before leaving Alamo Graveyard.
                  "Few will turn down barter, but we do have currency. The local gunsmiths started up an economy based on spent bullet cases. It promotes making the most of what you've got and gives them a steady supply of fresh materials. Bullets themselves aren't too common either. If someone is willing to shoot, they mean business. And, uh, speaking of cases, I'm enjoying our talk, but this tattoo ain't free, it'll be fifty cases when I'm done." Travis explained, switching to a light gray, the last color of the tattoo, that of the hammers' heads.
                  "What? I don’t have fifty bullet cases, I doubt I have five! How would someone even carry all those cases reasonably?" Amy realized, alarmed.
                  "Oh ho, I'm sorry. Forgot to mention, different calibers of bullet have different case worth. A .22 LR is fifty, 9mm seventy-five, I've got a card around here somewhere. The gunsmiths re-evaluate the economy every year and distribute a card with everything's new value. Doesn't really change too much. Usually just one or two bullets losing or gaining five or ten cases." Travis elaborated, finishing the tattoo.
                  "Thank God, I know I've got some cases in here somewhere." Amy said, reaching into her bag.
                  "Take your time, still gonna put a small bandage on it. You'll be good to take it off tomorrow." Travis added, applying a small pad and taping it to her arm. "Well, you're good to go, Thanks for