The market squats were bustling with people. From a distance, it sounded like a low, constant murmur, voices bargaining, tal clinking, soone coughing, or inspecting an item. I looked at the stalls closest to the entry gate. These were the first ones a person saw when entering the Common Ground, so vendors were charged hefty daily fees to set up there. Those who couldn't afford the cost were forced to sell or trade their goods at the far end of the market.
The vendors sold almost everything that still mattered. Pallets overflowed with canned food, mostly dog food, but food nonetheless. So stalls even offered homade jarred goods, clearly marked with warnings. There were bottles of water and dried at hanging from hooks. Other stalls displayed Ziplock bags of seeds, carefully labeled and heavily guarded. The prices were steep: four credits, or the equivalent of four als, for just twenty seeds.
As we passed, my eyes landed on a dical supplies stall. It wasn't a regular booth, it looked more like a small house cramd with dical equipnt. Bandages, antibiotics, and painkillers lined the shelves. So items were expired, discounted accordingly. Two ard n guarded the place as if it were a national treasure. Inside were two doctors and five nurses, the Common Ground dical team. They ran the stall and were willing to treat anyone, but only in exchange for credits.
Nearby were nurous clothing stalls selling everything from boots with mismatched laces to leather jackets reinforced with duct tape and gloves. Another vendor offered improvised armor: hockey pads, motorcycle helts, and chest plates hamred out of street signs. None of it interested , so I moved on.
As we continued, we ca across a large crowd gathered in one area.
"Get the hell out of here if you're just going to stare!" a woman's voice rang out as she dispersed the onlookers.
I pulled Clentine in the opposite direction. She looked at , confusion flickering into curiosity.
"I want to see what's going on over there."
Before I could respond, she suddenly grabbed my hand and dragged toward the area.
Several beautiful won stood there, barely wearing anything despite the cold. The only thing keeping them from freezing was a nearby burn barrel. They called out seductively to passing n, their voices slipping through the crowd like hooks. Laughter followed—low, practiced, inviting—promises wrapped in honeyed tones. A sway of hips, a lingering glance, fingers tapping a tabletop in a rhythm ant to be noticed.
"Can you do two credits for today? It's my birthday," a young man asked.
"Okay, birthday boy. Co inside," one of the won replied, leading him into a nearby tent, followed by another.
That's when Clentine realized what was happening. She imdiately slapped her hands over my eyes, her face burning red.
"Nope. We're leaving. And don't even think about looking," she said firmly.
One of the won, still flirting with custors, spotted and shouted, "Are you the famous Max Walker?" She called out, already stepping closer.
"Back off, you bitch!," Clentine snapped angrily, shocking . She rarely cursed—most of the ti, she even stopped from swearing. Hearing her curse now, I could tell it wasn't embarrassnt anymore. She was angry.
She dragged away, glaring at .
"Hey, don't look at like that. I didn't want to go there—you were the one who dragged ," I muttered.
"You're all the sa," she said, still tugging along. "It's gross."
I honestly had no idea what I'd done wrong.
We finally stopped at another stall where I could sell fur and at. I turned to her.
"I'm going to sell the fur and at here. Why don't you look for those cooking books you wanted? I'll et you at the weapons shop."
She nodded and let go of my hand.
"Okay. I'll et you there… but I don't have anything to trade for them."
I pulled out my stamp and placed it in her hand.
"Use this. There's enough credit for whatever you want."
She smiled, leaned in, and gave a kiss.
"Never go near there."
I nodded, smiling back, and waved as she headed off to search for her books.
After selling the fur and at, which earned about 100 credits, I walked toward the weapons shop. It was located on the left side of the corner. People weren't allowed to sell weapons directly, but they could sell them to Common Ground for slightly less than market value. Those sa weapons were then resold at a higher price. One thing was certain, if a weapon existed, you could find it inside that shop.
As I passed the dical store, soone caught my eye. A woman with long, thick black dreadlocks held back by a headband and missing one ear. Her presence was quiet but powerful. I knew her instantly.
Michonne.
She was locked in an argunt with a nurse.
"Listen, I don't have the credits you're asking for. Here's everything I have. Take it and fix her," Michonne said as she placed her backpack on the table.
Beside her stood another woman. Her left hand had been cut off, and both of her feet were cuffed. The injuries looked a few weeks old and poorly treated. I wondered if the wounds had even been closed properly. Looking closer, I realized who it was.
Andrea.
"What is wrong with you people?" Andrea snapped. "First, you cuff my feet before I can even enter, and now you won't treat because we don't have credits?"
She was shaking with anger.
"You can go over there and exchange your supplies for credits," the nurse said, pointing in a direction.
They looked. A long line stretched across the market, people waiting, tired, and desperate.
"That'll take hours," Michonne said. "You can't just take the supplies and treat her?"
"I can't," the nurse replied. "Those are the rules. I'm sorry."
Michonne's jaw tightened. Then her eyes found .
"Hey, boy, do you want anyth—"
She stopped midway, suddenly cautious after noticing I had weapons inside Common Ground and wasn't wearing a muzzle. She quickly looked away, not wanting trouble.
The nurse turned to , suddenly eager.
"Sir, can I help you with sothing?"
"Yes," I said with a smile. "If you don't mind, could you take their supplies and treat her?"
The nurse blinked, then smiled.
"Of course, sir."
The nurses began taking supplies from the backpack.
Michonne and Andrea just stared, confused and stunned. Andrea opened her mouth to say sothing, but I turned and walked away before either of them could speak. Their confusion only deepened as I walked off.
I hesitated before helping them, but I lost nothing by doing it. Maybe I even gained so favor. It's better to make a friend than an enemy. With that thought, I headed toward the weapons shop.
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