Harem in a zombie apocalypse

[85] New job offer

"Give our fine gentleman and ladies a drink, will ya bob?" the shady man said.

The dim lighting of the tavern shone on shady man's scruffy face as he gestured to the burly bartender who responded with a nod and proceeded to fill four glasses with a dark, frothy liquid. The tavern was warm, filled with the background noise of casual conversations, laughter, and the occasional heated argument – a stark contrast to the quiet desolation of the world outside.

"Name's Cody," the man said, leaning back in his chair, and gesturing to himself with a thumb. His voice had a noticeable gravelly quality to it, worn by years of talking above the constant din of the tavern. His eyes twinkled under the brim of his worn-out hat as he extended his hand towards us. "Best scrapper in town."

Both Cassidy and I took turns shaking his calloused hand, his grip firm and sure. The man had the air of someone who's seen it all, his weathered face showing the telltale signs of years spent scavenging and surviving in this post-apocalyptic world.

Once we'd taken our seats again, Cody leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table, a serious expression replacing his previously jovial demeanor. "Now, I brought you here for a reason," he began, his gaze shifting between the three of us. "You all look like you can handle yourselves. I've got a job coming up that could use some extra muscle. A scavenging trip into Calgary."

He paused, taking a sip of his drink as he watched our faces for a reaction. The silence stretched out for a few heartbeats, our minds quickly assessing the potential risks and rewards.

"Scavenging in the city ain't no walk in the park," Cassidy finally broke the silence, her voice measured, "So, what are we talkin' in terms of compensation?"

Cody smiled at that, his eyes sparkling with a certain admiration. "Sharp and straight to the point. I like it." He leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming on the wooden table. "Well, let's just say it's a job that pays well for the risk involved."

The 3 of looked at each other then back at Cody again, with a weighing look on our faces.

Cody's hands drummed a rhythmic beat on the table as he took a measured sip of his drink. "Now, I'm not gonna send you three out there empty-handed," he began, pausing for a moment to set his glass down on the scarred wooden table. "I'll provide everything you need for the job – guns, ammunition, even a ride."

His voice was low and gravelly, words spoken with a level of authority that spoke of years spent surviving and leading in the harsh post-apocalyptic world. There was a spark in his eyes, a light that was a blend of excitement, anticipation, and a hint of fear – the typical cocktail of emotions when one was about to embark on a dangerous journey.

"We've got a good selection of weapons at our disposal, and we'll let you pick out what you're most comfortable with," he continued, gesturing with his hands to emulate the size of the imaginary arsenal. "Pistols, rifles, shotguns... even got a couple of crossbows if you're more of the silent type."

He chuckled at his own joke, the sound echoing off the tavern's wooden walls and melting into the hum of other conversations happening around us. Cassidy remained impassive, her gaze never leaving Cody as he spoke, evaluating the man and his proposal.

"As for the ride," Cody said, his eyes glinting with a hint of pride, "we've got an old school bus. She's not much to look at, but she's sturdy and can carry a good load. Got her all decked out for these types of jobs."

The conversation then shifted to the topic of compensation, a subject that caught all of our interests. Cody promised a 'generous' pay – a vague term in this new world order. But he quickly elaborated, ensuring us that it would include a fair share of the spoils and enough goods to ensure a comfortable living in Banff for a considerable time.