Commodity by Shay Savage Page B

really.”
    “I’m sorry, ma’am.” The head salesman comes up to me, and the others shift back.  “Please forgive them, but they just found out they are all going to lose their jobs.  The store is closing.  They have to sell all the inventory before they can leave.”
    I’m getting angry.
    “That’s too bad,” I say, “but I’m late.  I have to get to work, or my boss will kill me.”
    I push my way through the men and into my closet.  I’m only wearing a towel, and I have to get dressed for work.  I turn to lock the closet door behind me, but the lock isn’t working.  One of the salesmen pushes his way inside.
    “You want to buy something from me,” he says as he approaches.  I can’t make out his face, but there’s a scar on it, just below his eye.  “You know you do.”
    “No…”  I can barely utter the word.  He’s pushing me against the rack of clothes behind me, and he reaches between my legs, fingering me.  I turn my head to the side.  I just want him to go away and leave me alone, but he doesn’t.
    “Please,” I whisper.  “I’m late.  My boss will kill me.”
    I wake alone in the damp tent.  The remnants of the nightmare buzz around in my head, and I feel queasy.  My leg throbs painfully, and my hip is sore from sleeping on the ground.  I can hear voices outside, speaking in hushed tones as I sit up and rub my eyes.
    When I try to stand, I drop back to the sleeping bag, grunting from the pain in my leg.  It’s stiffened up a lot overnight, and putting weight on it hurts like a bitch.  I press my hands against it, as if I can hold in the pain.
    Falk appears at the tent entrance.
    “You all right?”
    “I’m okay,” I say through clenched teeth.
    “Bullshit.”  He smiles slightly at me.  “I know that has to hurt.”
    “It’s just a little stiff.”
    Falk kicks off his shoes and enters the tent, going to one of the bags set off to the side.  He pulls out a bottle of ibuprofen and hands me three of them along with a bottle of water from the cooler.
    “Take them.  It will help a little.”
    I nod and take the pills.
    “Want some help getting up?” Falk asks.  “Walking around may loosen it up again.  You should eat, too, so those pills don’t upset your stomach.  After you eat, I’ll check it out and put a new bandage on it.”
    “I can do it.”  Using my hands for support, I manage to get myself to my feet.  Falk takes a step forward, offering his hand to me, but I don’t take it.  He leaves it there anyway in case I change my mind.
    I hobble out of the tent.  Caesar and Beck are out by the fire, trying to cook something in aluminum foil over the coals.  Nearby, one of the camp stoves holds a bubbling pot of coffee.
    “Want some?” Beck says with a smile as he holds up a coffee mug.
    “Please,” I respond.
    “I’ll get it.”  Falk walks around the fire, ignoring Beck’s offered cup, and grabs a different mug to fill with coffee.
    Beck glares and is about to say something when Caesar speaks up.
    “We need to figure out what’s next,” he says.  “Are we going to stay here or find more habitable ground?”
    “We’re going to a group of apartments near here,” Falk says.  He fills the mug from the pot and brings it to me.
    “Says who?” Beck asks as he crosses his arms in front of his chest.
    “It makes the most sense,” Falk replies.  “One of the buildings isn’t damaged at all, and I have supplies there.  It offers protection, and everyone can have their own living space but remain close to the group.  There’s still running water there—enough to give us time to dig a well if we need to.  It’s the best option for now.”
    “It does make sense,” Caesar says.
    Beck narrows his eyes at his friend.
    “That’s not the point,” Beck mutters.  “We’re just going to go to his apartment complex because he says so?  That’s bullshit.  There are other options.”
    “It’s as good a plan as any,” Caesar