28. Tell

28

TELL

" I thought I ate a lot. How the fuck are we supposed to feed that many mouths?"

"Simple math. Calories, body weight, effort." Gavin shrugs, checking another rabbit trap.

"Then we should have everyone foraging for their own food."

"Then no one would catch anything, run all the critters off."

"Please don't call my future dinner ‘critters'."

At a distance I spot other pairs of gatherers, hunters. Fucking weird.

To think that just a few weeks ago, we were all cellphone addicted, TV watching, latte-guzzling dead-heads. Now we're neophytes to post-civilization survival. Like we're supposed to just turn the switch off and morph into flower children.

Wow. I am turning into a philosophical dweeb.

I need to get back to doom scrolling social media, or pretty soon, I'll start growing a beard and playing bongos. My brain is not designed for ‘quiet.'

"What're Hellena and the ladies up to? Pillow fight? It is camp , so I was thinking?—"

"Tell." Gavin presses one finger to his lips for silence.

Right.

Can't catch shit if I'm blabbering all the time.

I really should have gone with the groups trying to get power back on in town. Ever since Marco bit the dust, we've finally started looking toward moving back down the mountain.

With the addition of so many of the Vice crew, we have way more access to guns and vehicles to guard the civies and send out patrols.

Ventures to the powerplant, water station, and city gas require protection from the bands of Rachelle's psychos. Then they have to be protected so they don't undo the fixes we get in place.

It's far from finished. It's just the beginning.

The extra hands go a long way toward assessing the damage and seeing what we need to do to get the city back on its feet. All hands on deck means, well, just that.

My problem is that most of my surveillance skills, info gathering, etc., are energy dependent.

Computers.

Cameras.

So I got stuck here on food duty with Grizzly Adams. No offense to Grizzly the biker. Love that guy. He and Tomlin are like the little brothers I never wanted. But in the best way possible.

They've sort of got their own language, though, which limits my assistance. Plus, their area of expertise sits closer to the ground.

They can fix anything with wheels. Super useful.

Unlike what Gavin keeps volunteering for.

That's a whole other point of contention with some of the gang, myself included. Don't get me wrong, Gavin is one hell of a survivalist and has been instrumental in teaching everyone about all sorts of useful shit in the field.

But the guy is also the most experienced tactician and critical thinker anywhere.

And he won't take the lead. Now that Hella's back, he's content to just take a back seat.

Speaking of Hella…

"Find anything?" she whispers, crouching to catch her breath.

"Two coneys. Lots of great convo with G-man."

"And you scared them off," Gavin sighs, dusting off his hands and heading back toward camp. "Need to get some water, anyway."

"Maybe you scared them off with your manliness." I give him my most dismissive shrug and sidle up to Hell, looping my arm around her shoulders as we trail along behind him.

Her arm around my waist feels so right.

"How's governing going? Singer's boys all get settled in?"

"They are already out on patrol."

"Now he's singing my tune." I kiss her head as she laughs at my terrible joke. "What's with the ring?"

She's been wearing it lately, twirling it on her thumb.

The red metal doodad that we uncovered at her dad's cabin in the woods.

"Ah, coincidentally, what I called Ora to meet me about here in a minute. I think I found a couple of clues in my notes from my dad's journal that might help us lure Rachelle into a trap."

"And that ring has something to do with it?"

"Maybe."

I let it slide, keeping an eye on Gavin the whole walk back. He hears everything we say.

Without a word, I point forward, making a ‘what-gives' sort of face at Hella.

She shrugs, waving one hand for me to drop it.

Weird.

And not really any of my business. Gavin is always solid when it matters.

Must be all this being around Alaya shit that has him closed off. I would be too if I were forced to be in close proximity with my ex. Or my family. Not precisely the same. But still.

"What'd you want to talk to about?" Ora kicks off the desk and stands, leading the way into a sort of conference room.

As we enter, Alaya appears, then Sing, filling out our ranks with most of the crew.

Minus one. But ‘we don't talk about Eeeeevan'.

And as much as I joke about… everything, I feel sick when I think about seeing him at the wedding. He was just gone . But he's alive.

"This." Hellena tosses the ring onto the table. "Before the shitstorm, I was looking into what this ring meant. I didn't get to finish looking through my dad's journal, but it opened a hiding spot in his cabin."

"What the fuck?" Alaya snatches it up, looking closely at it like she's never seen a ring before.

"You recognize it, don't you?" Hella's eyes light up.

"Yeah. I remembered your dad wearing it when I…"

"When you took the contract to kill him," Hellena continues.

" From him, for him," she reminds us all, throwing up her hands in defense.

"Why were you looking for it, though?" Gavin squints, crossing his arms.

"Because my grandfather left me something just like it in his will a few years later . So when I came back to do that business shooting Rachelle and Hell, I thought I'd see if I could find it. Damon's, that is."

"Where is yours?"

"I've got it at one of my hidey-holes on the edge of town for safekeeping. Figured I'd get back to it eventually, find the link."

"And there must be a link," Hellena asserts, sliding out a folded photo from her pocket and dropping it open for all to see. A sting of relief for her pings in my chest upon seeing the photo. She must have found it at Damon's house when they went back. "My mom had a bracelet just like it."

"You said that when we found the ring," Gavin starts. "I thought maybe it was just a relationship thing between them. But if Alaya had one too…"

"And she got it from her grandfather ." Ora leans forward.

"Who killed that member of the Seven up on Egret Ridge." Hellena nods.

"Then he probably took it from that old codger's corpse," Alaya finishes, grinning.

"That codger was related to my mom's family, not that that matters. What does is that this means we may be looking at seven red rings. For what, though?" I continue in the most obvious direction.

"To open a Sinful vault, perhaps?" Hella shrugs, sliding down into a chair. "I just wish I had my dad's journal."

"We do," I say nonchalantly.

"What?" Hell's head whips around.

"I went back to the safe when I got back to town after I found you at Marco's. Didn't want to risk it getting damaged or falling into the wrong hands."

"I thought it was gone! The safe was cleared out. Where is it?!" She grabs my arms, shaking me lightly.

"In a safe place." A place no one would think to look.

"When were you going to?—"

"When we weren't hiding out in the mountains anymore and, or, needed it for some reason. Not like we've had much time to do research lately."

Idiot. I could have been doing said research.

Don't say it.

"You could have been instead of hiking around with me!" Gavin huffs, shaking his head with a bit of humor.

"I, uh, well, excuuuuse me for getting distracted with the love of my life coming home!" I throw up my arms.

"The love of your life, huh?" Hellena hums, rising to pull me in close, bouncing to her tiptoes to peck me on the lips.

"The one and only." I brush her cheek with my knuckles.

"Back to things that aren't one and only." Ora coughs and points a finger down her throat. "Doesn't that ring remind anyone of the ‘O' in the old Block signage above the barn at the old compound?"

Frequent visits to the Block as my alter ego, Dirk, flash through my head at the mention. The sign hung over the bar in the community area. "Holy shit. I think you're right."

"Grandaddy would totally do something like hide a priceless Sinful heirloom in plain sight."

"So that accounts for…" Counts off fingers. "Three. Technically four, if you include Cynthia's bracelet."

"Which we have no clue how to find."

"But I might know where one is," I chime in, wanting to distract Hellena from the sad expression creeping over her. "I'll head down into town tonight and see. I can grab the notebook while I'm there."

"You alright going by yourself?" Gav leans in close so only Hellena and I can hear.

"Probably best. It's hard to get to."

"You mean you don't want anyone knowing your hiding spot," Hell quips, pinching my stomach.

"Ow! A magician never reveals his secrets."

"If you're a magician, then I'm a ballet dancer." Gavin snorts, heading for the door. "I'll get the cars ready. I assume I'm coming with whoever's going to the Block?"

"Fuck yeah! We may need all the backup we can get if there are any?—"

"Unwanted guests." Alaya smacks her fist into her palm.

And just like that, we're on the move.

Everyone's hustling out of the room with a job to do. Everyone except for Sing, standing over by the wall, looking more uneasy than I've ever seen him. And who I swear I saw open his mouth to say something as Hellena rushed out.

Several hours later, I drag my sopping wet and muddy ass out of the truck I stole after losing my car to a gang of roving junkies. Two other jeeps that the rest of the group took are back in their spots.

Good.

They made it.

"Cathy-cried-a-creek-coming-clean-concerning-crimes-consuming-cashews," I rattle off in a cracking voice, passing the stoney-eyed guards almost invisible on either side of the path.

"That's not the password, ‘Dirk'."

"But you know it's me, right?"

"You smell like shit."

"Thanks, Boris!"

"Fuck off."

Ah. He's still mad that I impersonated a biker messenger for the Block for years. And he never saw through my disguise. Stupid Gavin let the cat out of the bag while we were getting hammered with some of the guys last week.

My feet wail in protest as I make my way to the top of the hill, back down the trail, and up the slope to Camp Clive.

Why did we put the parking lot so damned far away?

Finally, I slump against the doorframe, knocking once to announce myself before stepping into the only lit room in the camp.

Five faces look up. Five noses wrinkle.

"I know. I know."

"Where have you been?" Hella's on her feet and in my face, trying to check through the gunk to check for injuries.

"I'm fine. Might need a penicillin shot later."

"Let me guess, your hiding place was inside Shawshank?" Gavin snickers.

"No." I look around, waiting for someone else to say something. After I get stonewalled, I sigh, sliding down the wall onto my ass. " Fine . I went to City Hall. Place was crawling with Ghosts. So I had to find another way in."

"Your hiding spot is in City Hall?"

"One of them. It's a hidden room that only my dad knew about. And me. Family documents only."

"And?" Ora gestures urgently.

"I got the journal. And I found this."

Slapping the mud and I-don't-want-to-think-about-what-else covered bag down beside me, I work the seal open, holding it up for Hellena to reach into. Pausing to analyze the clean interior first, she reaches into it, carefully drawing out the book.

Then the ring.

Everyone leans in as she lays it on the table.

"Four identically shaped, differently sized rings," Hellena narrates.

"Meaning we need three more?" Ora rubs her chin sardonically.

"And a place to put them," Alaya muses. I can't be the only one waiting for her to make a crude joke out of it.

Huh. No dice.

"Or at least we can use it as bait to draw Rachelle out," Gavin points out.

"What makes you think she would want these?" I play devil's advocate.

"Because she can't resist anything to do with the Sinful. And I think she may have one, too." Hellena smiles that smile that makes my skin tingle. The one where she's got an idea. Or when she's about to do something particularly naughty to me.

"Fair point. But if Rachelle has another, it still begs the question, where is the last one?" Gavin looks at each of us.

"Good question. We also have no idea where my mother's wound up. There's no way to know what happened to it." Hell's brow furrows.

"About that…" Sing speaks softly, but everyone stops short, the whole room's attention arrowing onto him.

"She may still have it." He shrugs.

"In her coffin…?" Hellena frowns, looking a little disturbed.

"No. Her apartment. Your mother is alive, Hellena."