The White Angel's Prayer

12. The Sacrifice

Dead Dove: Do Not Eat warning for violence and gore from this point forward. 

The rhythmic punching of the sewing machine was the only sound inside the tight confines of Lucy's bedroom. Her green curtains were drawn back to welcome the rays of light inside, the likes of which highlighted the particles of dust that delicately floated in the air.

Lucy sat in the corner of her room, her short brown hair tied back into a tiny bun. She felt the vibrations of the machine under her fingertips, and her foot loosely pressed down on the pedal to drive her progress. The patch she was sewing onto someone's jacket was almost done — the symbol that the Des Moines people had chosen for their growing community.

Someone knocked on the door. Lucy quickly lifted her foot off the pedal and turned to watch as it opened. Unsurprisingly, Edith walked inside, her sandy-brown hair loose over her shoulders — a rare sight. Lucy didn't understand why a sense of nostalgia clasped together in her guts.

"You good?" Edith asked. She folded her arms over her chest. "I see you're almost done."

"Yeah," Lucy said quietly. "Why? You want yours done next?" She quirked a brow.

Edith scoffed. "No fucking way. I'm not wearing that shit."

Lucy huffed in amusement. "Why? It represents our community." She made air quotations and laughed as Edith waved her off.

"Whatever," the sandy-blonde said. She scratched the healing scar on her face. She gestured outside. "The last evening patrol just came back."

"And?" Lucy failed to see how that concerned her much. They already did their morning rounds.

"Indy overheard the guys talking." Edith looked around and then dropped her voice to a whisper. "Apparently, some group is running through the city. And they're not Hunters."

This piqued Lucy's curiosity. Indy was Edith's younger sister, a nineteen-year-old born in the New World. She was a natural smartass, a carbon copy of her sister, but her abrasiveness often landed her in hot water.

"Were they just stragglers?" Lucy asked. She dropped the sleeve of the jacket and turned towards Edith to fully give the woman her attention.

"No. They wore some kind of symbol," Edith said. She gently shut the door behind her and walked closer. "But they had a shit load of guns. And food."

Lucy exhaled sharply. Des Moines had a group dedicated to gathering food and supplies for the community, and they were damn good at it. But, naturally, at this time of the year, sources became scarce. Winter had been particularly rough the past couple of years, and a good haul of food supplies would be hugely beneficial. Even though Lucy didn't particularly like the idea of stealing from someone else, their community had pregnant women and children who needed the food more.

"Okay. Let me guess," Lucy said quietly. "Indy wants to steal it."

"Yep."

Lucy exhaled again and sat back. "Brave."

"Shit, yeah," Edith said. She shrugged. "But it's all we got. Come on, the last thing they caught was a fucking deer, and that was gone in a day."

"Touché," Lucy said. "But we're not scavengers. We'll get our asses beat."

Edith shoved her shoulder. "Live a little," she said. "Indy's smarter than us. She'll get the food; we'll cover her ass if things go sideways."

They will, Lucy distinctly thought. She shook it off. Things had been fine so far. Why would they go wrong now?