Mate Run, page 3
I took the proffered basket. “Give me a sec.”
Taking it into the kitchen, I removed the paper-wrapped meat and set it on the counter. I opened each package, confirmed the meat was fresh, and then stored them in the freezer. Leaving one bear steak out to cook tomorrow, I cut off a small piece as a reward for Cujo. While he devoured his treat, I walked to the bedroom and stuck my head inside.
Jock lay on the bed watching his beloved animal show. That explained why he hadn’t followed Cujo to see who was at the door.
“Jock, I’m going with Ms. Hannah to the greenhouse.”
My son grunted his acknowledgment, a habit he’d picked up from my father. Again, I felt that now familiar pang. Joaquin may favor his father in his looks, but his mannerisms and the way he articulated himself was all my dad.
Returning to the front of the camper, I took the basket, grabbed my keys and a gun, and exited the home with Cujo on my heels. I locked the vehicle before walking to where Hannah waited by the entrance to the greenhouse.
“Thank you for the meat,” I said.
Hannah inclined her head. “You’re welcome. Your daddy, God rest his soul, would have wanted us to take care of you.”
I nodded, unlocked the door, and ushered her inside. “I have carrots, peppers, onions, and potatoes ready to pick. You may also be able to pull a few leaves of spinach. I love salads, so the pickings there are slim. In a few more weeks, the eggplant will be ready.”
“That will be fine,” Hannah said.
The greenhouse was ten feet by twelve feet, made of reclaimed plastic, glass, pvc pipes, and lumber, constructed by my father and his cronies. The mostly glass roof allowed plenty of natural light. It looked like a good, strong wind would blow it over but had withstood several winter snowstorms.
“I knew your father, back in the day when your mother was alive,” Hannah said out of the blue.
In the midst of uprooting a carrot, I froze and glanced at her. “You did?”
Hannah nodded. “Knew Bruno, too. My man served with them both. Us women hung together. Safety in numbers, you know? Life was a constant turmoil and one never knew what the day would bring. Men who went to work didn’t always return home. It was stressful for them. Stressful for us. That kind of life-and-death struggle brings out the ugly in some people. Bruno’s one of them. He treated his wife like a punching bag.”
The knowledge Hannah had known my mother had my mouth hanging open. The mention of Bruno had me closing it with a snap. “What happened to her?” I asked, fearing the worst. There was no Mrs. Bruno in the picture now and hadn’t been for as long as I’d known him.
“We got the first one out. The second one wasn’t so lucky. He’s had a few women since then, but they were smarter than the others. They paid attention to the warning in their guts. Those that didn’t? Well, I might have warned a few of them off,” Hannah said with a knowing look at me.
“I’m not...we’re not...” I spluttered before finally forcing out, “He gives me the creeps.”
After examining me closely, Hannah nodded slowly. “Your daddy taught you well. You should know Bruno’s made a claim on you. If I were you, I’d pack up that boy and go somewhere safe. A woman on her own can’t be too careful. Think of the boy.”
“I have been,” I said, my tone defensive. “I’ve been trying to find a clan to take us in. So far, none have been willing.”
“I don’t believe that,” Hannah scoffed. “Them men are hurtin’ for women. If you haven’t gotten the answer you want, you ain’t asking the right questions.”
I sighed deeply. “They want mates, Hannah. The last time I gave my heart to a man, he stomped on it before ripping it to shreds.”
Hannah looked at me as though I were stupid. “I ain’t say nothing about love. This is survival, and the truth is, you need a man in this world if you want to survive. You think I love them two I’m with? No. I’m fond of them, but they got something I need and I have something they want. It’s an arrangement. Each party knows that for this arrangement to continue working, we got to keep bringing what the other needs to the table. Get them rose-colored glasses off your face. Your daddy should have taught you better than that.”
Highly offended at the insult to my father, I gruffly admitted, “He did.”
I’d still stubbornly tried to do things my way, as though I could bend this new world I found myself in to my will.
I pondered her words as I slowly filled her basket with produce. “Finding a good man to form an arrangement with is easier said than done. How do I know he won’t be like my ex-fiancé, or worse, like Bruno? As you said, I have to think about Jock.”
My only romantic experience had been with Terry. A man who, initially, had reminded me strongly of my father with his tenderness and caring.
Hannah scowled. “Didn’t that fancy law firm tell you about agencies that match noninfected women with infected men? They’ve already done the research for you. How do you think we got Rachel away from Bruno? That man, once he stakes a claim on something, he don’t let go. He would have hunted Rachel to the end of the earth if we hadn’t found her a home with the infected. Once he learned she’d been “contaminated,” he left her alone.”
Her words made my blood chill. Like most children born after the worst of the pandemic and the urban wars they sparked, I’d led a very sheltered life. Intellectually, I knew about violence and discrimination, but until Jock, it had never touched me.
I stared at Hannah with dismay and a touch of fear. “You really think he’d come after me if I left? We’re not involved. Today’s the first time he’s even hinted at being interested in me as a woman.”
Hannah ran her fingers through the soil of one of the pots. “You’re young, attractive, and you have a shitload of money.” Her gaze lifted from the dirt to pierce me with its directness. “Yeah, I think he’d chase after you and bring you back, willing or not.”
My whole life had been lived inside of city limits among the noninfected. After my mother’s death, my father had turned our home into a fortress. I'd rarely left the house unless he was with me. School had been virtually attended. He hired a woman to stay with me when work called him away.
A typical teenager with more brains than sense, I’d thought PTSD had caused him to overreact. That all the safety precautions he’d taken were unnecessary. After all, what could happen? My first year outside of the city limits had been a reality check, and the lessons kept on coming.
“He can’t force me to be with him if I don’t want him, can he?” I asked.
Her gaze full of sympathy, Hannah said, “Men can do a whole lot if there’s no one there to stop them. Other than your father, Bruno’s the strongest man in this camp. Not many would go against him, and sad to say, the women won’t want their men interfering. They’re already worried their men will dump them to chase after you.”
That explained the looks I received from the other women and their lack of friendliness.
“Thank you for the warning.” I didn’t want to contact a matchmaking agency, but it appeared to be my only option. After my talk with Bruno, I’d been leaning in that direction. My conversation with Hannah cemented my decision.
I handed Hannah the basket filled with more vegetables than I’d originally intended to give her. If I had to leave, I couldn’t take the greenhouse garden with me.
“Thank you,” she said as she accepted the basket. She turned toward the door and stopped with her hand on the doorknob. Glancing over her shoulder, she warned, “Be smart, Cara. Don’t let Bruno know how you really feel. String him along if you have to, but don’t tell anyone you’re leaving.”
I frowned. “He knows I’ve been looking for a clan to take us in.”
She waved that away. “We all know that no clan will allow one of the noninfected to live with them unless she’s mated to one of their men. If you decide to check out one of them agencies, don’t tell him. Don’t tell anyone. Just slip away during the night, and let ‘em wonder what happened to you.”
Truly worried now, I agreed.
“Keep the dog and boy close,” she warned in a low voice that wouldn’t carry before opening the door. In a louder voice, she said, “Thank you. It’s been a pleasure doing business with you.”
Several of the camp's male residents stood talking in what I’d come to think of as the community circle and sharing homemade beer. Bruno was one of them. The glow of firelight lent demonic features to his face. Our eyes met and I flinched. I immediately tried to cover my mistake by turning to pull the door shut behind me, twisting the knob to be sure it was secure. You never showed fear to a predator.
Facing forward again, I forced myself to look in his direction. His gaze on me was intent and held a hint of suspicion as it bounced between Hannah and me. I gave him a brief nod of acknowledgment and rubbing my arms as though I were cold, I scurried the ten feet to my front door.
Fortunately, Cujo wasn’t inclined to linger, having done his business earlier in the day. I held my breath until we were both safely inside. Once the bar was in place and the locks engaged, I flattened my back against the door, breathing heavily.
Didn’t I have enough problems without adding Bruno to the list? God, I missed my dad. I missed his strength, his wisdom. He’d know exactly what to do about Bruno.
I’ll never forget the day my father died. I’d been working in my greenhouse when Bruno had carried my father’s limp body into camp. I’d seen Bruno lower him from his shoulder onto one of the communal tables in the courtyard and come running. Before I could get too close, Bruno had grabbed me. “He’s dead. Hunting accident.”
I’d fought Bruno, needing to see for myself. Grady, the resident with the most medical experience, had run over with his supplies. He’d bent over my father, checked his pulse, and examined the bloody wound in his thigh. After a few tense minutes, he’d straightened and slowly shook his head. “Too late. Loss too much blood,” he’d said.
I’d screamed and fought Bruno’s hold, trying to get to my father and crying hysterically until a sharp blow to my face shocked me out of my grief.
“Get ahold of yourself. You’re scaring the boy and shaming your father,” Bruno had snapped.
Bruno’s words, more than his actions, had caused me to snap out of it. My gaze had gone to where Jock stood just outside the greenhouse, crying and scared with a howling Cujo by his side, not knowing what happened but that it was something bad. I hadn’t allowed myself the luxury of crying since. I had to be strong for my son.
The first sob caught me by surprise. I slapped a hand over my mouth to hold back the second one. Unfortunately, the tears would no longer be denied. My knees weakened, and I slid down the door until my butt touched the laminate floor. With my face buried in my knees, I let the sobs take me.
Cujo came over, snuffling my hair. He shoved his nose into my neck and whined. I hugged him close, hid my face in his fur, and cried until I was empty.Drained, I straightened and rested my head against the door, eyes closed. My breath still escaped in shudders that gradually lessened. Cujo licked the tears from my cheeks, and I used the sleeve of my t-shirt to wipe the snot running from my nose.
“It’s okay, boy,” I said to the dog, who was still agitated. “I’m all right.” I patted his head.
He laid one large paw on my thigh, which I’d stretched out to relieve the muscle. It was as though he were saying, I’m here if you need me.
I pushed myself up off the floor and went into the bathroom. The sight in the mirror wasn’t a pretty one. My face was red and blotchy. My normally narrow brown eyes were swollen and red. Even my nose was red. I splashed cold water onto my face and used soap to wash strands of dog hair off. Sighing, I left the bathroom. I’d needed the release, but instead of bringing me peace, my tears had left me unsettled and on edge.
I walked to every window in the small motorhome and double-checked the locks. When I finished, I cleared a space in the middle of the living room. After stripping down to the sports bra I wore beneath the now dirty t-shirt, I grabbed my knives and worked my way through the self-defense moves my father had begun teaching me when I was a child. The martial arts centered and calmed me, bringing the peace I’d sought.
Sweaty, tired, and stiff from muscles that had lost some of their limberness, I trudged into the bathroom to take a long hot shower. My father would be ashamed if he knew how I’d neglected myself. Worse, I’d stopped teaching Jock. If I didn’t snap out of it and do it soon, the grief would either get me killed or trapped in a relationship with a man I didn’t want.
Chapter Four
Cara
The hour grew late but sleep eluded me. There was too much I needed to do. I walked into the combination office/eating area and took a seat on the stool. Pulling out the keyboard and locking it into place, I logged into Mate Match Agency’s website. I read all of the information on the website, including the testimonials. Then I opened another web browser and dug deeper. Just because my lawyers had recommended this one based on their customer ratings didn’t mean it was my best choice.
While the process of how Mate Match formed the matches seemed hush-hush, no one doubted the science. They had an eighty-nine-point-five percent success rate, the highest of any agency. Also, they were the only agency that specialized in matching noninfected females with infected men. So, it was Mate Match or no agency at all. That made the decision of which agency to use a no-brainer.
“Here goes nothing.” I started the registration process. It took hours. The questions were endless. Whoever devised this form had been very thorough. Several times, I’d been forced to stop and think about what I wanted for myself, not just what I needed for Joaquin’s sake. How did I explain that while I might want the fairytale of love and happily ever after, experience had taught me it was an unrealistic expectation? That now I’d be willing to settle for a man who’d keep me and my son safe, and one who’d be a caretaker for my son should something happen to me?
I worked my way through the form, answering as honestly as possible. The next step was a video interview. I could complete it online or come into the office. I choose online. It was faster and didn’t require me driving two hours into the city.
The screen split into two sections. One side contained the frozen image of an attractive blonde woman. The other screen contained an image of me. I winced. Maybe I should make an effort to look attractive?
The instructions read: When you’re ready, tap play, and listen to the questions. To respond, tap the record button, look into the camera, and speak. Only your first response will be accepted. There is no delete or back button. Please note: You only have five minutes to begin before the system times out. At that time, you will be directed back to the beginning to start again.
I checked the time on the screen. Five after eleven. I rushed into the bathroom and ran a brush through my long, curly hair. Not having time for a full make up job, I took out my concealer and tinted moisturizer and applied them along with a coat of glossy lip gloss. It wasn’t perfect, but I no longer looked like I’d spent the last hour crying my heart out. Last, I grabbed a clean, blue fitted t-shirt and shoved it over my head as I rushed back to the computer.
Face flushed and breathing heavy, I dropped into the seat and tapped the play button. The woman began to speak. “Hello, my name is Jillian. I’ll be your interviewer. The responses you give will be shared with your potential match. After I ask the question, press the pause button and record your response. Understand? All right, let’s begin. What brought you to Mate Match? Why have you chosen a potential marriage with an infected male?”
I paused Jillian, thought a second, and tapped the red record button. “I came to Mate Match because of my son. He’s infected and needs to be among his kind. I’m doing the best I can with him but fear it’s not enough. My father recently died, leaving us alone in the world. Jock’s father walked out of his life when he discovered our son was one of the infected, so when my father died, Jock lost the only father he knew.”
I fell silent, thought over what I said, and decided there was nothing else to add. I hit the stop button on my screen and pressed play on Jillian’s screen.
“You may be aware that there is a shortage of infected females. This does not mean that infected males are desperate enough to accept any applicant. Why should you be selected?” Jillian asked.
From the responses I’d received via the law firm, I knew that infected males could be picky as hell. I was asking a lot, but in return, I was prepared to give everything. That had to count for something.
Pressing record, I looked directly into the camera and spoke. “I have money. More than enough to help make life a little easier for a clan. My bank account grows daily. I’m not infected, nor will I ever become infected. Any man who accepts me as a mate won’t have to worry about losing me to the virus. What I want most in life is for my son to have a safe, secure life and a family to call his. To ensure it, I’m willing to pay.”
I stared into the camera a second longer so any male watching could see how sincere I was, leaned forward, and pressed the stop button.
Taking a deep breath, I pressed the play button again, ready for the next question. Jillian’s smiling face animated. “That’s it for this portion. The last thing we need you to do is to remove your underwear, hold it to the screen, and press the analyzer button. Please do not use a clean pair. We need a material that has been close to your body and has your scent. The fresher and stronger the scent, the better. Once this step is completed, your profile will be uploaded into the database. If a match is found, you will be notified. Thank you for trusting Mate Match Agency with your personal information.”
I sat for a moment, processing. The request didn’t surprise me. I knew how important scent was to the infected. My confusion came from wondering how scents impacted mating. Was this information I’d need to know for my son?
