Immune

Visitors

Isaac gives me a strange look, cocking his head to the side like a puppy.

"Well, this is awkward," Farrah says, looking at us both in turn. I shoot him a glare, making a face.

"Sorry! I'm being rude," Isaac blurts out, shaking his head, "It's nice to meet you Jaelyn. It's good to have a partner. Awful lonely around here during the day." He reaches a hand out, and I take it. His handshake is firm, but his hands are soft. Howard's hands were rough, coarse from climbing ladders and ropes, shuffling Uno cards and moving Checker's pieces. Isaac doesn't look like he's actually worked a day in his life.

Which is completely possible. The night guards always jokes about how lazy the day guards are because the infected can't come out in the sunlight. They don't do any protecting.

Isaac is a toll booth operator.

"Jaelyn? Hello?"

Farrah's voice breaks me out of my thoughts. I've been staring at Isaac's hands, still holding his in my grasp. I let go with an awkward chuckle.

"Sorry," I say, "It's been a long day. Um, it's nice to meet you, too."

"Alright, well, I actually have things to do, so I'll let you two go be awkward without me," Farrah says, smirking at the two of us, "Be good, Muney. I'd really hate to see something happen to you."

I wish I could punch Farrah in the face. I cannot stand the way he walks or talks or breathes. He waves at us as he walks away, back towards the North Gate, where he will finish out his shift and smile at other people who don't like him.

"What a terrible nickname," Isaac mutters, turning to the ladder once again. I just look at him, following him up to the top of the wall.

There's no game boards. No pile of soda cans in the corner, scattered like shrapnel. I don't see any Uno cards, but he could be hiding those in his pocket. All I see is a camping chair, an overturned bucket, a sketchbook, a pile of dirty scraps of white cloth, and Isaac's gun, propped up in the corner.

"You can have the chair," Isaac says, scooting the bucket away from his chair, and sitting on it, "I'll get another one and bring it up tomorrow. I wasn't expecting you."

I nod, taking a seat. From where I sit, the gun is within reach, but it's tilted so that it would take a minute to rearrange it. Howard would have kept it turned so that his finger would have been on the trigger when he grabbed it.

"What do you do?" I blurt out, looking at him. He's picked up the sketchbook but not opened it yet.

"I check it shipments from the other compounds, making sure that no one comes in that's not supposed to," he says. He really is a toll booth operator. "Shipments only come in about once a week, though. While I'm on duty everyday, I don't do much until it's time for a new shipment."

He flips open his sketchbook with a smile, staring off over the wall for a moment before he looks back down, his pencil moving quickly.

"Are there any shipments coming in soon?" I ask, already bored.

"Yeah. There's one later today," he says, not bothering to look at me, "You should bring something to do next time you come."

Howard liked talking. Already, I can tell I'm not going to like this new job.

I pass the time by picking dried mud out of my boots, cleaning out the eyelets and shining the scuffed toes. After that, I pick the threads out of the edge of my pants, giving them a fray, which I then pick at. I clean out my nails, biting them down to nubs after they're clean. Cracking each and every single bone in my body takes up much more time than I thought it would, and I'm just about to start on my neck and jaw when the sound of a vehicle grabs my attention.

Isaac stands up, putting his sketchbook on the bucket.

"Right on time," he mutters, disappearing over the edge of the wall. I follow, stumbling over my static legs. He grabs a clipboard that hangs on the wall, flipping a few pages and squinting at the tiny print. I shut the door behind us, joining him where he waits by the door.

Every compound has a color scheme. For Compound 4 it's olive and black. So, every government vehicle and uniform is either olive, black, or a shade of the two. The trucks have a giant black 4 painted on each side, olive and black tarps stretched over the back.

That's why I'm shocked when the trucks coming over the horizon are white, not olive. For some reason, I had the thought in my head that it would have been our own trucks, returning to us from another compound.

Instead, it's Compound 3.

No compound can survive on its own. That much has always been clear. We each have our own specialty. Compound 4 is known for its scientific research towards a cure and other sicknesses. We create and house vaccines against common diseases, as well as distribute them. Compound 1, way up north, hunts and harvests meats from its dense forests. Compound 2 gives us timber, and 3 specializes in fishing. To the south is Compound 5, which makes weapons. Compounds 6 through 10 have the same specialties, and they work together as a unit of five, just like we do.

I just never expected to be checking in someone else from another compound. Not on my first day, anyway.

Isaac calls off names as the trucks drive in, and people call out to him.

"Here."

"Aqui."

"Present."

One by one they start to get off the trucks, leaving the engines running. Isaac runs off to go check their stock, and I'm standing there with my mouth open.

"Haven't seen you here before," a voice says. It's a redhead girl, leaning out of the driver's seat window of the first truck. She waves at the second truck to go around her, and it does.

"Um, yeah, it's my first day."

She nods, watching her crew of three other people show Isaac around the back of the truck.

"What's your name, newbie?" she asks, turning her head to get a look at my uniform.

"Jaelyn," I say, absentmindedly, showing her the stamp.

"Price? Jaelyn Price?"

"That's me."

I watch as Isaac jumps back out of the first truck, giving it a thumbs up and then moving towards the other.

"The Jaelyn Price?"

I turn my head towards her, staring.

"As in the immune?"

"How do you know about me?"

"Word travels," she says, simply, turning away to watch the second truck begin to unload huge cargo boxes. I squint at the back of her head. After the longest minute ever, she looks back at me. "Let's just say that name's pretty popular outside the compound walls."