Page 52 of Juniper Unraveling

“The packs hold cans of food. Some medicine. Enough to get by for a few days. Each time I come out here, I check on it to make sure no one’s stolen the supplies.”

“Supplies for what?”

A presence at my right has me swinging my attention to Six, whose eyes scan over the desert as if he’s watching.

Always watching.

“In the event something happens. If Szolen is overrun, or our safety is somehow compromised, I want you to come here.”

“There are only two packs in there, Papa.”

“I’ve not had the chance to stow away a third, yet. Promise me you’ll come here, if ever you’re in trouble.”

“Of course, but why would our safety be compromised?”

“Because safety is merely an illusion, Wren.” He straightens to a stand and heads back to the car, while my mind searches for the images from just minutes ago. Ones I’m certain held some meaning, some small bit of memory, but they’re gone. As fast as they arrived, they’ve disappeared to the blankness.

Six’s hand slides into mine, breaking my thoughts, and I squeeze his fingers to let him know I’m fine. “Just looks familiar to me for some reason,” I tell him.

We both head back to the truck and continue on.

* * *

Kneeling in the dirt beside Papa, I set the tongs onto a prickly pear and snap it from the thorn-riddled pad, tossing the fruit into the bucket. To the left of us, Six keeps watch at the perimeter, kicking a rock in boredom. We’ve filled one of the buckets and the other is half full already.

Papa cuts a few of the pads off, setting them atop the fruit. “I’ve been meaning to plant some of these. Insulin is running dangerously low.”

I give another glance back toward Six. “What’s S Block?”

“Nothing that should concern you.”

“Six is from S Block, though. Isn’t he? That’s what Arty was talking about.”

“You ask far too many questions, girl.”

I chuckle at that, tossing another fruit into the bucket. “And you never answer my questions. What can it hurt? I’ve not returned to the woods since I found Six. I’m just trying to understand him. For my safety?”

“As if you’ve ever been concerned for your own safety.” He snaps another pear and tosses it, then straightens, gripping his lower back with a groan. “I’m getting too old for this shit.” Tugging a cigar from his shirt pocket, he lights it up, watching me gather the last of the fruit. “S-Block is an experimental ward in Calico.”

“The hospital?”

“Yes. The hospital.” The cigar sticks out from his crossed arms. “Young men like Six are taken there if they … express certain genetics.”

“What kind of genetics?” I glance over at where Six stands with his feet set apart, his back to us, a stream of fluid between his legs as he takes a piss.

“Second generation can be carriers of the Dredge protein. It’s passed down through the mother. If she was exposed, as many mothers were during the beginning of the outbreak, the protein gets passed down to the child.”

“You’re saying … Six is a Rager?”

“No. He’s merely a carrier. But some carriers, known as Alphas, have certain traits, and the physicians in S Block seek to exploit those traits.”

“I know you’re going to kill me for asking, but what kind of traits?”

Instead of answering, Papa lifts his chin, as though listening for something.

I hear it, too. A low hum, that seems to be getting louder.

The click click click sets my nerves on edge, and I climb a nearby boulder to get a look beyond the plateau that overlooks a shallow dip in the landscape. About a hundred yards off, dozens of Ragers approach.