Chapter 10: The Compound
CHARLIE CONTINUED to check in on Jared every day, only to find no changes. He knew others were, too, but that didn’t stop him from going himself, no matter how busy his day got. He spent at least an hour of his day sitting by the man’s side, just talking to him about anything and everything. Samantha came up in more than one conversation, as Jared was the only person he had confessed to about his ever-growing feelings for her. Life around the Compound had settled back into normalcy since the helicopter came and shook their world. The only saving grace for Charlie was that it happened outside of their walls. His men were already busy rectifying that, as the wall built around Jared Hastings property was being torn down and rebuilt to include it in the Compound. Charlie couldn’t risk it on the outside any longer, especially with Sam insisting on staying there.
No matter how busy he was, he couldn’t get that girl out of his mind. He feared an awkward obsession with her. While she had let him kiss her and seemed happy on the rare moments they spent together in secret, she was adamant that no one know about them. He didn’t understand it and he didn’t like it. He was new to the relationship stuff, but he wasn’t someone used to secrets, especially about things important to him, and Samantha was very important to him.
Being with Sam made him happy. It was the only time he was truly happy. Any other time of day, he was stressing about the day-to day-operations of the Compound, or worse, worrying about his sister. Holly had been gone two full months and he wasn’t entirely sure she was coming home this time. The thought terrified him. “She found her way back once before, she will again,” everyone kept reminding him, but this time things were different. She hadn’t left of her own free will, and even though he stubbornly hadn’t wanted to believe she had the first time.
Sam, with all her snark and determination, was the only bright light left in his life as he continued to fight the depression that continued to threaten him.
The day-to-day operations of the Compound had become a full-time job. For the most part, they were a thriving community. Winter had been on the mild side, and signs of spring were already beginning to emerge in late February.
Summer crops would replanted in another month, and with the warmer-than-usual weather, they had already managed to clear and begin preparing enough land for a harvest, one that would ensure the entire town would not have to worry about food that year. The rounding up of all domestic animals left in the area was already showing signs of success, with a new breeding program in the works.
The old jail was being restored and, despite his initial grumblings, Edward Hill turned out to be a perfect Sheriff and unlikely friend. They had dinner together at least once a week. Sometimes Marcus Cahill and Colton Evers would join them. They would brief him on anything he needed to know about the daily happenings around the Compound and then just relax and enjoy each other’s company. He looked forward to it every week.
One thing Charlie had learned was that people needed responsibilities and to feel valued. The programs he had created were meeting that need, but the people were working faster and harder than expected. After the initial fears and concerns subsided, and they saw value in his plans for their future, the town rallied together in full support. They were insatiable in their desire to help. He knew the spring planting would keep many focused and busy, but new ideas for more, for bigger and better, were coming to him daily. It was exhausting.
He was most excited for the Hospitality Center and the Newcomer Onboarding Program. The Bowmans were the first to use the facilities and to onboard for entrance into the Compound. They had visited on two occasions already and were assisting Charlie with a plan to open trade between four towns in the spring. It was the start of expansion beyond their walls and had been something of interest to him since his excursion to Manning with Jared, just a few months earlier. A few months often felt like a lifetime to Charlie, aging him far beyond his twenty years of life.
“Hey, you going to be in here much longer? I have to change his bandages.” Ashlyn’s voice shook him back to life and out of his head.
“What time is it?” he asked, stretching and surprised to find his body stiff, a sign he had been there longer than he thought.
“It’s nearly seven.”
As if just hearing the words triggered his body’s response, his stomach growled loudly. Charlie smiled, “Guess that’s a sign it’s supper time, huh?”
She smiled back. Ash was always friendly with him, but she was quiet and kept to herself. He really didn’t know anything about her and made a mental note to rectify that.
“I’ll get out of your way.” He squeezed Jared’s shoulder as he stood. He hated seeing how pale and small he was becoming, but his vitals were good, and Doc assured him he was recovering nicely. “Take care, man. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he told the silent body lying before him.
As he left the clinic, like all addicts, he turned and headed for the object of his obsession. Entering the diner, he found it packed full. The diner was more like a mess hall, where people came to eat prepared food. They had not begun the act of actual trade and business yet, though Charlie was optimistic they would one day get there. For now, everything inside the Compounders’ walls was run like a co-op. Everyone pitched in somewhere, and everyone benefited from everyone else’s work. The diner was merely the first of what he hoped would be more places to eat.
There was no monetary value. Money no longer existed, or what did had no meaning. Charlie hoped that with the trade alliance the Bowman’s were helping him establish, that perhaps they could work towards a more capitalistic environment, but for now, the shared resources policy was working well for them.
Callie swung by to greet him. “Hey, Charlie. Busy in here tonight.”
“I can see that.”
“Grab a seat wherever you can find one. I’ll send Sam over to get your order.”
Charlie gave her a half-smile, and she winked at him. Either Sam had been confiding things to her friend, or Callie was more observant than he’d given her credit for.
“Thanks, Cal.”
Marcus Cahill was sitting at a table with a group of men and waved him over. There was an open seat, so he took it, shaking all their hands in greeting. He was by far the youngest of the group and it amazed him at the amount of respect the older men showed him. He wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to it.
“Charlie, I validated a couple rumors we discussed last week. Silas Richards has that still up and running in the woods near the lower lookout heading up to the bunker. It’s functional and the whiskey is flowing.”
He groaned. “What are we doing about it?”
“Nothing for the moment.”
“Actually, Charlie, I was talking to Silas the other day and recommended he come see you about opening the old bar. ‘Do it right, Silas,’ I told him.”
“That’s not a bad idea. I’ll have to run it by the Sheriff. Could mean more work for you,” Charlie said elbowing Cahill in the ribs.
He grinned back. “I’ll take that challenge any day.”
“Take it you’ve sampled old Si’s moonshine,” the older man said, causing a round of laughter all around the table while Marcus’s face reddened.
“Hey,” they were interrupted by Sam. “Special’s pulled pork tonight. You good with that?” she asked Charlie, ignoring the others at the table. She was slightly irritated that he sat at Callie’s table, so she made it obvious that she was only there for him.
“Yup, sounds good.”
“Get you boys anything else?”
“No ma’am. Callie already handled it.”
Sam nodded, fought back a blush, and headed for the kitchen. She heard the guys Charlie was sitting with tease him about her.
* * * * *
“I cannot believe you made me do that. What’s wrong with you?”
“Oh please,” Callie said, completely unaffected by her outburst. “He’s Charlie Jenkins, Sam, and he likes you.”
“Shhhh,” she said, frantically trying to quiet her friend. “Don’t say that. You have any idea the rumors you’re about to spread if people hear ya?”
“So what? I don’t see what the big deal is. Girl, it’s Charlie freaking Jenkins. Every eligible woman in this place would be shouting for all to hear if he was into them. Why aren’t you?”
She decided to play dumb, “He’s not into me, Cal. Stop saying stuff like that.” But yeah, she knew that was a lie. Charlie came in everyday and always sat in her section, until tonight, though Callie insisted she take his order anyway.
He certainly seemed to like kissing her, and she’d be lying if she said she didn’t like it, too. Their moments of meeting in secret were fun and exciting. They talked a lot, made out some, and just hung out even. He still hadn’t tried anything, though she kept expecting it and didn’t really know how she’d react when the time came. She didn’t have any good experiences with men. The men in her life had been brutal and unrelenting, leaving physical and emotional scars beyond repair. She knew she’d have to put an end to things soon, but she just couldn’t bring herself to do it yet. So long as no one else knew, then she thought it would be okay, for a little while at least.
“You keep telling yourself that,” Callie said, making her blush. Cursing her traitorous fair skin, she grabbed his dinner plate and stomped back off into the dining room.
Charlie was sitting alone at the table, much to her surprise.
“Where’d your friends run off to?”
He shrugged, “Guess I was late to that party.” He touched her hand as she set down her plate. “I didn’t come here to see them anyway. What time do you get off?”
“You can’t be coming in here like this, people’ll talk.”
“Don’t really care, and where else am I going to eat? You want me to hike up to the bunker for every meal now?”
She rolled her eyes at him.
“I didn’t think so.” He grinned. “I’m staying in town tonight since it’s already dark out. So, can I see you or not?”
“Would you shush already and eat your supper? We’re cleaning up now.”
“I’ll eat slow.”
He was incorrigible, and she secretly loved it.
* * * * *
Charlie watched as Sam bustled around the room, cleaning up and talking to customers. He could sit there forever just watching her. After the third time she glared his way, he decided it best to pack it up and wait outside for her. There were only two others left in the diner. With dark still setting in on the early side, most people retreated for home before sundown; only those living in the town hung around after dark. They were already in discussions to attempt repair on the old street lights or rig up something new to replace them. Lightbulbs were the problem. They were scarce, even within the bunker, because they used a special type of lighting up there that was not compatible with local buildings and infrastructure.
The good thing about the lack of any street lights though, was that he could fade into the dark and wait for Sam to finish work. Sitting on a barrel towards the back of the building where he knew she would eventually come out made him feel like a stalker, but he didn’t really care. He wasn’t going to risk missing time with Sam. He made a mental checklist of everything he needed to do the next day while he waited.
When the door opened, he fought his need to jump up and go to her. Good thing, too, because it wasn’t her. Callie’s parents along with the cook retreated first. It wasn’t long before three giggling girls emerged. Sam’s long blonde hair stood out in stark contrast to her friends, even in the soft glow of moonlight.
She stopped, sensing he was near and turned to look. There was no doubt in her mind that the dark lurking shadow at the corner of the diner was Charlie Jenkins.
“Um, I’ll catch up with you guys later, okay?” she told her friends.
“Sam, you shouldn’t be out here alone at night. Stay with us,” Callie’s sister Courtney begged.
“Oh, she’ll be fine. Leave her be,” Callie said. “See ya later, Charlie.”
“Night, Callie,” he replied despite Sam’s attempt to quiet him. “Don’t worry, Courtney, I’ll make sure she gets home safely.”
Sam punched him in the arm. “Have you lost your mind?” she asked in a low voice as the sisters walked away whispering and giggling.
“What?” he asked innocently.
“What’d I tell you about this? This”—she motioned between the two of them—“cannot go public. You’re just begging to hit the rumor mill, and let me tell you, it is alive and well in this—”
He silenced her with a kiss before taking her hand and leading her to the small apartment he claimed above one of the currently unused buildings on Main Street.
“Charlie, this is a really bad idea.”
“Spending time alone with me is a bad idea?”
“Spending time with you alone in your apartment is a very bad idea.”
“We’re just going to hang out and talk, just like we have anywhere else we’ve met over the last few weeks. I promise. It’s just late and dark and it’s right here, Sam.”
She trusted him explicitly. He was one of the best men she’d ever met, and the fact that he seemed to want her both terrified and excited her. Her? A nobody hillbilly from an abandoned coal town? Her? A girl who was so damaged, physically and emotionally, that even the AMAN rejected her? It just didn’t make sense, no matter how she looked at it, but she also couldn’t seem to tell the man, no.
“You’re going to ruin my good name here,” she joked, knowing no such thing ever had or ever would exist for her.
“Samantha, I would never let that happen, even if I had to marry you to set the record straight.”
She gulped. It wasn’t the first time he’d thrown in outrageous comments like that, and they always embarrassed her. She thought he did it just to get a rise out of her, but she was too exhausted from a long, hard day at work to retaliate.
“What? No witty comebacks tonight?”
She shook her head, too tired to argue about it, but also taking a serious stance on the topic.
“Are you okay? You look,” he hesitated, “tired?”
He sounded like he meant something other than ‘tired’; certainly off in some way, though.
“I’m okay,” she said. “Just tired. It was a long day. Evenings, especially, at the diner are really picking up. It’s crazy. Even with three of us working, I’ve been on my feet without a break for almost ten hours.”
She didn’t often let her guard down around people. She was used to following the only bit of wisdom her mother ever bestowed on her. ‘Fake it til ya make it.’ The meaning to her had altered over the years, currently meaning, never show weakness to anyone, but most especially no man. Yet, Charlie was different.
“Hey, come in,” he said pushing the door to his place open, and guiding her in with his large warm hand on her lower back. The contact made her shiver. A part of her craved his touch, something she never thought she’d ever feel for a man. “Sit,” he ordered, leading her to a large overstuffed chair with a footstool.
Sam had never been in his place before and took a moment to look around. There was fresh paint on the walls, a sprinkling of oddly unmatched furniture and a well-worn rug on the floor. The walls were bare. A small, minimal kitchen was in the corner and two doors towards the front side of the building. She guessed bedrooms. Maybe a bathroom. The Compounders sure seemed to like the comforts of their bathrooms, but she was quite grateful for that. Sure beat the community stalls and cold water shower room she had at the wash house in Little Endor. To think, she had found that a luxury at the time.
She couldn’t have imagined such a place as the Compound actually existed. People inside the walls of the Compound worked hard, but in her opinion, they wanted for nothing. They had everything anyone could need and just about anything any one person could ever want.
Sometimes it felt gluttonous to her, knowing how little those outside the walls truly had. And Charlie Jenkins, he was the king of it all. Far as she was concerned, these people’d have nothing if it weren’t for him. He was still so young, she didn’t understand how he’d come to be in such a position, but thinking about his sister, who had shocked them as the leader of a group of full-grown men, she guessed leadership just ran in the family.
Nobody seemed to question either of the Jenkins kids’ ages, or experience; they just blindly followed them. Though she knew that wasn’t entirely true. Charlie wasn’t always supported right away, but he always seemed to come out on top in the end. He was a natural leader who had been groomed to run the bunker from a very young age, though rumor had it that he was quite the clown and almost lost that privilege to Milo Weaver.
Callie seemed quite taken with Milo. She knew they were dating. Everyone knew it. Sometimes she envied her friend that, but Callie came from good people. She was born and raised in Wythel. Her family was important to the community. She was someone.
Sam was no one. The daughter of a whore and a drunk. She hadn’t even noticed much changed during, or even after, the war. When you live life at the bottom, there’s no drastic moment when the world falls apart. Her world was never whole to begin with.
“Sit back and relax,” Charlie said directing her to his favorite chair. It was an old personal vice of his dad’s. When the bunker was built, he hadn’t been able to part with that chair. Taking the apartment in town, it was the one personal thing he had brought down for the new place.
As Sam sunk into the chair with a heavy sigh, he lifted her feet and placed them on the footstool before her. Carefully he began removing her shoes.
“What are you doing?”
“Would you just relax for once and let me take care of you?”
She stared at him cautiously and a little like she was judging his sanity, but she kept her mouth shut. He pulled off her socks as she bit back a protest. When he grabbed a container of some sort of white stuff and started coating his hands with it, she started to freak out a little, but when he reached for her foot with those coated hands she jerked back and knew he’d lost his mind.
“Seriously, what do you think you’re doing?”
“Just give me your foot.”
“No.”
“Sam, stop being stubborn. It’ll help, I promise.”
“You are not putting whatever that gunk is on my feet.”
Charlie snorted as he laughed, “It’s a special yam and goat’s milk lotion Mrs. Worthington makes up. You know, Cassie’s mom.”
“Okaaaaay …” she said slowly still unconvinced.
“It’s supposed to have healing properties. I use it for pulled muscles or to relieve tension when I get stressed. Oh, whatever, just give me your foot already.”
He made a lunge for it and she tucked them under her and squealed in laughter as he fought to get to them. Of course, Charlie was much bigger than Sam, and it didn’t take him long to overcome her and win the battle.
She squeaked in surprise when the cold, yet warming sensation of the lotion hit her skin. No one had ever touched her feet before. Why would they? Nothing he was doing made sense to her, but when he applied pressure and swiped his thumb across the length of her arch, her eyes rolled back in her head and she moaned in delight. As she relaxed, he began masterfully massaging her left foot and then her right. She had never felt anything like it before. By the time he was done she was more relaxed than she’d ever been.
“I ain’t got no clue what you just did there, but I think I may have died and gone to heaven.”
He grinned, happy to have pleased her. She sounded relaxed and sleepy, and it wasn’t long before she curled up in a small ball on the oversized chair and drifted off to sleep. Charlie watched her, feeling his heart lighten, surprised by how good it felt to care for her.
As his eyelids grew heavy, he carefully lifted her out of the chair and carried her to his bed. He tried to straighten her out, but no matter what he did, she’d spring back into a tight ball. He had never seen anyone sleep in a fetal position like that. He couldn’t resist giving her a kiss on her forehead before closing the door to his bedroom and heading back to the living room. He quickly stripped down to his boxers and grabbed the throw blanket off the back of the chair and settling down on the couch. Where normally he would toss and turn for hours, struggling to turn off his brain, tonight he fell into sleep peacefully, with a smile on his face knowing Sam was just in the next room.
* * * * *