Cindy put a hand on her stomach. A familiar gesture Rose had made a hundred times. “No, but I can feel the baby moving, so everything is okay.” She panted, trying to catch her breath.

Mercy turned to Vera. “I don’t know anything about pregnancy. She needs to be closer to medical care. What if she goes into labor?”

“Women have been giving birth since the start of time,” Vera stated seriously. “Doctors cause complications. They only want to give drugs or cut the women open to speed up the birth, and hospitals are full of nasty bacteria.” She nodded at Cindy. “Birth is painful; it’s our legacy of being women. With some fresh air and plenty of clean water, she’ll do just fine.”

Mercy’s mother was a midwife, and Vera was right about one thing: plenty of labors went fine. The childbirths that weren’t fine were the problem. Her mother knew when a hospital and obstetrician were needed for safety.

If they called on Mercy when Cindy went into labor, her automatic answer would be, “Ambulance. Now.”

“You need to go help with lunch,” Vera instructed the pregnant woman. “Get moving now, and I won’t give you a strike.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that.” Cindy dipped her head at Vera. “And welcome to your new home, Jessica.” Cindy walked gingerly as she left the room, and Rose’s complaints of aching feet echoed in Mercy’s memory.

“It’d be helpful to know when she’s due,” Mercy said tentatively. “A doctor—”

“Isn’t needed,” finished Vera. “She’s a strong, healthy woman. Now drop your stuff, and I’ll show you the rest of the camp.”

Mercy set her belongings on the mattress, refusing to look closer at the stains and wondering if other women had given birth at the camp. “Do you have a room with some medical equipment?”

“Bandages and first aid things are in the supply depot. You just ask for what you need.”

“I’d like to see what medical supplies you have. Maybe take an inventory.”

“No, you can’t do that. No one accesses the supply depot but the quartermaster. We can’t have people grabbing what they want willy-nilly. You can make a request and they’ll pull it for you. There’s no cost for the supplies. We believe in giving our people the necessities—clothes, toiletries, food.”

“That’s amazing.” Vera’s worn-out clothing indicated differently.

“But it has to be a sincere need,” Vera clarified. “You can’t requisition new boots because yours developed a hole. Patch it. Figure it out yourself before you burden others with your demands. There’s no room for selfishness here. We reuse everything until it falls apart and is beyond repair. For example, a ripped and worn-out shirt can be cut up and made into other articles of clothing.”

“That’s how I was raised,” Mercy said quietly, thinking of her prepper upbringing. “My parents lived off the land. We relied on no one for anything. It was important that we were self-sufficient.”

“You were raised right,” Vera said in a pleased tone. “Don’t see a lot of that anymore.”

“People think everything is disposable these days. What else do you supply?” Mercy asked respectfully. “There were items that even my parents had to purchase. Cooking equipment, certain spices, automotive parts, some medications.”

Vera snorted. “Spices? Totally unnecessary. I already told you our policy on medications, so of course we don’t supply those.”

“Not even Advil or Tylenol?”

“A little pain never hurt anyone.”

“What about treating fevers?”

“Fevers just need to run their course. The human body is made to battle such things.” She put her hands on her hips and cocked her head, her intense stare looking Mercy up and down. “I don’t know if you’re the right person to handle our medical issues. We do things differently here. I’ll have to talk to Pete about it.” She gestured for Mercy to follow her out of the bunk room. “I’ll show you where to get lunch.”

Anger flashed in Mercy’s vision. Stone Age medical care.

A split second before Mercy stepped out of the room, something moved in a dark corner, and a slim, blonde figure darted behind a bunk, leaving Mercy with an impression of wide blue eyes in a young face.

Someone avoiding duty?

With only eleven women on-site, no doubt it’d be obvious who hadn’t shown up for her work. Mercy kept her mouth shut.

Becoming a rat wasn’t a good way to make a first impression.

Or maybe it was in America’s Preserve.

EIGHT

For the number of people in the mess hall, it was oddly quiet. Scents of coffee and baking bread assaulted Mercy as she stepped in the door, and her stomach growled. Most of the people sitting at the dozen long tables glanced up to see who had entered. The curious stares created a physical sensation that poked Mercy in the gut and weighed on her shoulders. She felt as if a dozen targets were spread across her body, and she fought a desire to glare down some of the stares.

Jessica is a sweet woman.

Instead Mercy gave tentative smiles and avoided direct eye contact. She followed Vera toward the short line of men at the rear of the hall, where residents waited for their food. Lunch was served cafeteria style. Women behind a counter scooped food onto plates as people patiently waited with trays. She spotted Chad in line and tension drained from her body, surprising her with its sudden relief.

This morning has been rather stressful.

Vera stopped at the end of the line, but Mercy passed her by and tapped Chad’s arm. He turned, and his eyes lit up as he spotted her.

“Hey, babe.” He hugged her, and her muscles relaxed at his touch. The friendly face meant more to her than she had expected. A quick kiss on her lips followed. “Getting settled in?”

“Yes. Vera—”

“Back of the line,” said a gruff voice to her left. Mercy turned and was chilled by the anger in the man’s icy-blue eyes.

“I will in just a second.”

“Don’t want to watch that lovey shit while I eat,” was his reply. His knuckles whitened on the tray that rested against his large stomach. He was big, with a thick beard. The men behind him shifted, positioning themselves to get a better view of her and Chad.

“Back off, Beckett,” ordered Chad. “We’re just saying hello. No one will keep you from getting your lunch.”

Beckett glowered.

His face was heavily lined, and his graying hair needed a trim. He was dressed like the other men. Jeans, boots, heavy coat. All faded into the same indistinct color from countless washings. And in dire need of another.

Mercy stepped away from Chad, worried she’d affected his reputation with the other men. “Sorry,” she said to Beckett. “We haven’t seen each other in a long time.”

“Don’t fuckin’ care.”

She exchanged a look with Chad. His eyes offered no solution, and she decided it was best to leave. Don’t rock the boat. “Save me a seat.”

Beckett scoffed.

Keeping her gaze on the floor, she rejoined Vera. “Ignore Beckett,” the other woman whispered. “He’s an asshole to everyone.”

“Pete allows it?”

“They go back a long ways.”

Mercy drew a breath through her nose, making a mental note to avoid Beckett.

“Your man knows better than to call Beckett out for being a dick or to walk away from the scene with you. Don’t take it personally. He needs to save face with the other men.”

“That’s okay.”

The line moved quickly, and Mercy set her tray on the stainless steel counter where Cindy and three other women were serving the food. Cindy was sweating heavily, strain showing on her face, but she gave Mercy a half smile and placed a plate with a piece of homemade bread on her tray. The woman next to her dumped a ladle of gravy with some sort of ground meat on top of the bread and slid Mercy’s tray to the next woman, who gave her a skimpy scoop of canned green beans. Mercy thanked them and received a few surprised glances in return.

She gripped her tray and searched the crowded tables for Chad.

“We’ll sit over there,” Vera instructed, pointing at a table near a row of garbage cans. A few women sat in a tight group.

“I was going to talk with Chad.”

“The women sit at that table,” Vera said firmly.

Mercy nearly dropped her tray. She trailed after Vera in shock.

Four women looked up as they approached.

This feels like high school.

She took a seat by Vera, who ran through quick introductions. Mercy nodded at each woman in turn as her mind tried to comprehend why the men and women were separated.

Do they separate married couples?

Where are the children?

Eyeing the thick, unattractive gravy that’d been dumped on her bread, Mercy took a cautious bite, and flavor exploded in her mouth. The sausage gravy was amazing. “This is incredible,” she uttered in shock as she dived in for another bite.