Lottie slept with her head falling forward and her back wedged in the corner of the mostly disintegrated shack. A couch—if you could call some bare wood with scraps of fabric a couch—was shielding her from casual glances from outside. She’d chosen the abandoned residence because it was the only thing available that had at least two walls, a roof, and a floor. Thunder rumbled in the distance and she twitched in her sleep. She hardly slept these days and needed all she could get.
With a suppressed grunt, Lottie startled awake and tucked dirty blonde hair behind her ear. Her brown eyes were wide in the darkness, ears straining to hear anything that sounded out of place. Her hand drifted down to the gut hook knife at her side, while the other hand dropped to her swollen belly.
Lottie’s stomach growled. But she knew that neither the ever-present hunger nor the press of little hands or feet from the inside woke her from her fitful slumber. She thought she heard footsteps. Something was outside the home she’d commandeered for the night. The big question was whether or not the footsteps were friendly… enough. If they were for a draft patrol, she was in trouble.
“Shut up, Paul,” a male voice whispered.
Definitely something outside her refuge—at least two somethings.
A second voice, different than the first, spoke, “Javier, circle around that way. Jaesen, go with Paul. We don’t want to be surprised like last time.”
Make that four somethings: no someones. And all of them male.
Lottie swallowed hard, and her hand tightened on the hilt of her hunting knife. They could just be men on the prowl, draft evaders like herself. No reason to assume they were a patrol. She’d avoided the draft for the past two years. She could avoid it for a while longer.
She shifted her weight and brought the blade up to the back of her forearm where it would do the most damage to an attacker in a fight. Her other arm curled protectively around her abdomen. She would protect herself if she had to, but maybe, just maybe, they would decide her makeshift tent didn’t suit their needs and would move on.
A flash of lightning lit the night sky. Before the crash of thunder hit, Lottie knew the men would not pass her by, not with a storm looming. She hunkered lower, trying to become invisible behind the dilapidated couch, and secured her only other weapon: a sling.
Another flash of lightning lit the sky, silhouetting two men standing at the missing wall of the abode.
“Case! Javier! Get over here.”
“What is it, Paul?” A deeper voice answered from farther away.
“A dodger,” the voice—Lottie now attributed to Paul—whispered.
Lottie mentally swore. She thought she had been shielded from view.
The man who spoke had moved closer. “Male or female?”
“Female,” Paul answered. “Looks like just the one, though.”
A third voice spoke, “We haven’t had an evader in six months.”
Lottie sucked in a breath, the only indication of her fear. She would need to protect herself now.
Lightning brightened the sky, and Lottie jerked in surprise, bringing her knife up in front of her. A fourth man was crouched less than three feet from her. His head tilted to the side, studying her. Then he spoke, his tone neutral, “She’s a breeder.”
The voice belonged to the second man Lottie had heard. The man who’d issued the instructions.
“Shit! Case! Are you sure?” Paul asked, incredulous. Lottie felt a vibration through the floor and assumed Paul must have climbed into the raised floor of the home. Possibly all four now surrounded her.
Her refuge was becoming less of a secure haven from the coming storm to more of a full blown nightmare. An aftershock of memory coursed through her, and her breathing hitched.
“Yes,” Case replied. His voice carrying no inflection.
Paul whistled. “How do you figure she got away from the city?” he asked.
“Unknown,” Casey replied.
Lottie tucked her knees closer and prepared to gain her feet. She’d have to strike and run. A single tear slid down her cheek. Her back ached and the baby kicked her hard in the ribs. Running would be nearly impossible, but she had to try. If they were part of a patrol... She couldn’t go back to the city. Not now. Not ever.
A crash of thunder made Lottie twitch in surprise. She begged the ever-absent God for another flash of lightning. She needed to see who was closest. Who she should strike at first before trying to flee.
“How far along are you?”
The question brought her up short. Case’s voice deceptively smooth, only a mild curiosity expressed. Lottie shuddered and pressed her lips closed. Her eyes straining to see the men around her. She refused to answer.
“Javier? Paul? Back off.”
Lottie felt the floor move. A flash of lightning illuminated the inside of the structure. Three men were by the missing wall, talking, and the one named Case crouched three feet away. Staring. Waiting.
“May I?” He whispered in her ear—almost reverently—after the boom of thunder rolled away. The heat of his breath on her ear set her heart racing, and she whimpered.
Case had moved using the night—blindness after the lightning flash and the cover of the subsequent thunder to mask the sound of his approach and now he was right next to her. Sweat trickled down her spine. She’d have even less chance of getting away with him so close, but she had to try. She punched her weaponed hand towards his voice, but Case caught her fist in his. His hand was warm and calloused, and it dwarfed hers completely.
Lottie hissed and struggled to free herself and at the same time attempted to come to her feet. Her large belly jutting out in front of her, and she panted from exertion and fear. The nerve in her back making her leg weak. She’d only just refrained from yelping, when the baby in her womb responded to the added adrenaline in her bloodstream by kicking her hard. Her breath left her in an oomph and she grimaced in renewed pain. Case’s warm hand never left hers, as he aided her to stand.
“If you leave now, I will just bring you back,” Case told her flatly as he squeezed her wrist, right below her thumb, and pressed her hand forward, forcing her to release the blade. He tugged it from her grip and tossed it toward his comrades. “A treasure like yours needs to be protected.”
Protected? She doubted that. Lottie couldn’t decide. Either these men were part of a patrol or they were on the prowl. Either way, she needed a miracle to escape.
“Why are you out here and not in the city?” His question laced with implications. She had no reason to answer to him and every reason not to.
Lottie choked back a sob. She couldn’t afford to show weakness.
Case voice turned cold. “How far along?”
She shook her head.
Case sighed. “All right. Keep your silence for tonight, but tomorrow I expect answers.” He guided her back to the floor before barking, “Paul, stand watch. Jaesen, you’re next. Javier? Get our new friend here some food. You’ll bring in the dawn.” Once finished ordering his team around he turned back to Lottie. “Here,” he said and offered her a canteen of water. “The name’s Casey. Case for short.”
The urge to take the canteen and to answer his question was strong, but Lottie clamped her mouth shut and bit her tongue to refrain from responding. Lightning flashed along with simultaneous thunder, and the sky opened up above them. The rain pounded down on the remaining roof of the structure. Lottie could feel moisture seeping in along the floor boards.
Then she heard Paul grumble, “Don’t know why we need to stand watch tonight. Ain’t no one out in a thunderstorm. Not even us.”
“The storm won’t last forever,” Case replied, over his shoulder. The next time he spoke he was further from her, and Lottie couldn’t hear what he said.
After a minute, a small packed pemmican cake was pressed into her hand. Lottie weighed the benefit of eating the travel ration or tossing it aside. She didn’t want to owe them, but she was so hungry, and hunting was getting harder every passing day. Lottie’s thoughts shied away from what she would do to feed herself and the baby once it came. She didn’t want to think about it. Without help, life was going to get a lot harder with a baby around. But she would not give up the life she carried.
So Lottie sat, ate the cake, and listened to the rain hit the roof. She absentmindedly rubbed her belly. The motion soothed her frayed nerves and the baby inside calmed and slept. All the while, Lottie watched and waited. Watched as the three men not on guard settled in and fell asleep. Their quiet snoring heard across the small distance of the ruined home. Maybe they would underestimate her desire to escape their clutches.
Lottie twitched awake. She wasn’t sure when she dozed off. She listened closely. Did she hear four distinct snores? Yes, she did. Now was her chance.
She rolled to her knees, every rasp of her clothes sent her heart into orbit, afraid that one of her captors would hear her and wake. Finally, she stood and surveyed the small room where they were all holed up to escape the Midwest summer storm. A break in the clouds let moonlight flood the floor at her feet. Quickly, before another cloud obscured her light, Lottie checked for obstructions in her path and confirmed that four men were crashed out on the floor away from the missing wall. She looked for her knife, but when she couldn’t see it she had to assume it was secured by one of the men.
Lottie would have to replace it or wait for them to leave the structure and hope they left it behind. Not likely, though, it was a good sharp knife. They would be sure to keep it. The knife was made before mass-production ground to a halt. And it had been a lucky find for her. She would have to steal another one soon so that she could butcher her game.
Her heartbeat sounded deafening to her ears as she picked her way past the slumbering men. Every time she misstepped, she held her breath for fear that the men would hear her stumbling gait. How did she ever think she’d have been able to strike at one of the men and flee? They would have caught her before she took two steps.
Her joints were too loose and her balance too disrupted to attempt jumping off the structure. She sat on the edge of the home, next to the remains of a banister, to get down. Lottie suppressed a sigh.
She eased off the floor and onto the wet ground below her feet. Her threadbare shoes were soaked through before she’d taken more than a step. Lottie wrapped her arms around her belly to help stabilize the weight and started to pick her way across the field. If she could just make it to the tree line she could get lost amongst the foliage.
Glancing back often, Lottie checked for anyone following her as she picked her way across the field. Her hands and legs shook from fear and excitement. Only fifty more feet to the safety of the forest. She was going to make it.
In that moment of almost victory, something cold pressed against her temple.
“I told you I would bring you back.” Case’s bored voice stopped Lottie in her tracks, and she gulped. She never heard him approach.
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