The Elephant of Surprise (The Russel Middlebrook Series Book 4) by Brent Hartinger Read Free Book Online Page B

paying rent to the bank, and it got a little ugly. But freegans aren't really the same thing as squatters. It's a movement for us, right? It's not just us being lazy or angry at the world. So we understand you can't just piss people off and expect to get anywhere. That's why we take care of the places where we live. We're all in this together—in our communities and on this planet. That's the freegan motto. Once the neighbors realized a house with a bunch of freegans is a lot better than a house with a bunch of squatters, or even just an abandoned house, things got better."
    As Wade was talking, I couldn’t help but think: if this had been any neighborhood other than the one it was, the neighbors would have been on them with torches and pitchforks, no matter that they painted the house or mowed the lawn. But attitudes were a little looser in this neck of the woods. Even so, I definitely saw the strategy of keeping the yard so spotless. Why ask for trouble?
    "You really live here?" Em said. "And no one works?"
    "Oh, everyone works," Wade said. "We're not freeloaders. If you don't work, you can't stay. Same if you're an addict. You can't stay here if you're using. We're really firm about that."
    Wade gestured to a bulletin board in the hallway into the kitchen. Every square inch was covered with snapshots. "These are all the people who've visited us in the last year," he said.
    I scanned the photos even as Gunnar took a picture of the pictures. Once again, most of the faces were young and scruffy—and almost every white person had a deep tan. I also noticed that someone had rested a small monkey wrench on the top of the bulletin board's wood frame.
    "Here you go!" Venus said, turning around from the kitchen counter and handing me a glass of something that looked like cider.
    "What is it?"
    "Dandelion wine! Don't you remember? I promised I'd give you some!"
    I smiled, but I didn't say that what she'd promised was to make me a wild greens salad with nettles.
    I took a sip.
    "It's good," I said, and I wasn't lying. I'd had wine once before, but this tasted sweeter and more earthy—like liquid corn on the cob, if that makes any sense.
    "How do you pay the bills?" Min asked. "Water and electricity?" It was only when she said this that I realized, yes, the house definitely had utilities—the lights were on and everything. It's funny how you take stuff like that so much for granted that it's almost invisible.
    "They make us pay in advance," Wade said. "Cashier's check. But we get by. Some of us do temp work—yard work or construction. Others sell crafts. And we sometimes get donations. I'd love for us to live without any money whatsoever, but that's pretty much impossible in the modern world. The only rule is that everyone contributes."
    "What do you do for clothing?" Em asked.
    "We share!" Venus said.
    "Well, not exactly," Wade said. "Come on, I'll show you." He led us to the back door, then out into the small backyard and through the darkness, toward a freestanding garage along a gravel alley.
    The door to the garage was unlocked. When Wade turned on the light inside, there was no car, just tables and bins of old clothing: shirts and shoes and pants and belts. Another table held toiletries—toothpaste and toothbrushes, tampons, dental floss, toilet paper. Built-in shelves lined the back wall, and they were crammed with camping supplies—lanterns, rolled-up blankets, and candles—but also the kinds of things you'd expect to find in a garage: cans of spray paint, a crate of what looked like fireworks, and all kinds of different tools, from pliers to clippers. The air smelled like motor oil and something chalky.
    I touched an itchy wool sweater on a table. "What is all this?" I said.
    "The freegan store," Wade said.
    "Store? I thought you didn't use money."
    "We don't. It's not like other stores. Everything here is free. Take what you need. You just have to be sure to leave something for someone else. We're all in this