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something hot for once.” He climbed off without waiting for an answer.
    He quickly got a little campfire going just off the road using some sticks he’d apparently been carrying in one of his bags, some newspaper scraps, and a lighter. She watched him work, appreciating his efficiency. They’d built plenty of campfires on the farm - especially when the weather was nice. Sometimes they’d sit around it to eat their evening meals if Father Speer was in a more informal mood. He’d even let the girls whisper and giggle amongst themselves… she shook the thought away. May as well fish for a little more information.
    “What’s your gang like?” she asked.
    “Club,” he said, “We were a club before the dead started walking and we still are.”
    “Sorry. Didn’t know the difference.”
    “We ain’t into any illegal shit,” he said. “I mean, now I guess there are no laws. But we have our own.”
    “Like what?”
    “The usual,” he shrugged, “Same old laws we followed in civilized society, ‘cept now we’re forced into more violence. Rival gangs, roving madmen. The apocalypse allowed some real pieces of shit to grab a little power and go hog wild.” He retrieved a can of baked beans from his bag and worked with his little can opener to peel off the lid as he spoke. “We try real hard not to kill the living, mind you, but sometimes they don’t leave you much choice. My guys have cleaned up after a whole bunch of rotten bastards. We’ve got a nice community going now. People we’ve saved, people who’ve found us.” He put the can right on the fire.
    She had to suppress a smile - she wasn’t really paying attention to his words. Instead she was focused on the way that he spoke - rough around the edges, peppered with curses, with a slight southern accent. It wasn’t at all like Father Speer’s way of speaking, making everything sound like a declaration, full of flowery phrases meant to awe and impress. Call just spoke like Call. Like a man that wasn’t trying to be something more than he was.
    “And wherever you’re all staying, it’s safe?” she asked.
    “Yeah. Our compound. We’ve got this, like, office complex. I guess it used to be some kinda business center. Got some doctor’s offices and stuff. It was already all fenced in so we just settled there and we keep strengthening that fence with junk we find and well, we’ve got plenty of space. You’ll see.”
    She sat on the ground across the fire from him, spoon drawn. Wearing a thick work glove, he pulled the can from the flames and set it aside between them. He was right, she thought as she dug in, It is nice to have something hot. They shared the can in silence, with Lia stealing glances at Call when she thought he wasn’t looking. He raised an amused eyebrow when he caught her.
    “Tell me about your friends,” Call prompted. “How’d a bunch of pretty young girls end up on that farm? Did y’all know each other before the corpses walked?”
    “No,” she whispered. She stared into the fire as she searched for an explanation that didn’t sound creepy. She didn’t want to make Father Speer sound crazy, even if he was, a little. “The minister and his son took us each in when we stumbled across the farmhouse.”
    His eyes narrowed. “Only you young things, though.”
    “I’m not that young,” she said, eyes flashing. “I mean, I’m only twenty. But I’m not a child.”
    “Just seems suspicious to me,” Call said, lighting another cigarette.
    “Father Speer was a good man,” she said, and corrected herself, “Is. He is a good man.”
    “Yeah. Gathering himself a harem. Nice guy.”
    Her eyes shot wide open. “We weren’t his harem! He only let virgins stay, he wasn’t gathering a bunch of girls to have sex with.” She clapped her hands over her mouth. I said too much. Way too much. Why did I do that?
    “Doesn’t sound much better,” Call said, poking the fire with a stick. “So he’s a religious nutter. Are