365 Days At War

by Nancy Isaak

  “But someone else could go. It doesn’t have to be you.”

  “It doesn’t work that way,” she insisted. “I’ve talked with Nate, seen his sad, little drawings. Whoever has created these latest tattoos is a real artist. Which means that we’re going to need an artist to go up there and accurately set them to paper.”

  “Well, maybe we could get the Stars to copy them down for us,” I suggested.

  “But it’s not just about the design,” said Cherry. “Art is about the color and tone, about shadows and light, not to mention size and placement. If we’re going to be forging these things well enough to cross a Crazy checkpoint, we need to approach them with a forger’s eye. Here—let me show you something.”

  She reached into her pocket and pulled out a slim wallet. Opening it, Cherry pulled out her driver’s license, a library card, her Ralph’s store card, and her school identification. She placed them on the low wall before us, fanning them out like a deck of cards.

  “Which one is the fake?” she asked me. “Or is any of them a fake? Can you even tell?”

  I bent over, studying the cards carefully. Like Cherry, I had variations on all of these cards back up in Agoura Hills.

  “They’re all real,” I said, standing back up. “So, what are you trying to show me?”

  Cherry replaced the cards in her wallet, stuffing it back in her pocket. “We came down here with only the clothes on our backs. So—how did I get my identification?”

  My mouth dropped open. “They’re all fakes?”

  She shrugged. “It’s kind of like a hobby for me.”

  I still didn’t want her to go. “So, you’re an artist and you can make fake i.d. But a tattoo is a completely different thing.”

  “All I’m doing are the drawings,” she said. “I’ve already talked to that kid, Wyatt, who does the tattoos here on the Point. We’ll work together when I get back to make sure everything is authentic.”

  “But if Wyatt is a tattoo artist, doesn’t it just make better sense for him to go in the first place?”

  “Yes, it does,” agreed Cherry. “Except that Wyatt doesn’t want to go.”

  “Why not?”

  Cherry threw up her hands in exasperation. “Duh! Because he’s scared!”

  “And you’re not?”

  “Of course, I’m scared. But someone has to go and I’m the only other person with the talent to get the job done.”

  I grumbled for a bit. “Maybe you’re just too full of yourself. Maybe you’re not really that good.”

  She laughed, placing an arm around my shoulder. “Sister, I am so freaking good, it’s amazing! You saw my i.d. I can paint pictures that look like photographs.”

  “But if they catch you,” I persisted—frustrated, “they’ll do things to you.”

  “Which is one of the reasons that I’ll be traveling like a guy.”

  “What?!”

  “I’m going to shave my head down completely,” explained Cherry. “Take out the earrings, add some fake stubble. Who’s gonna’ figure it out?”

  “Anybody who notices the two lumps on the front of your chest!”

  “I’m going to bind my breasts, so they’ll lie flat.”

  “You’ve really thought this out, haven’t you?”

  She shrugged. “Gotta’ be authentic.”

  * * * *

  Two days before Cherry was set to head up into the Conejo Valley, she sat down with Wester and Shawnee and told them what she was about to attempt. To her siblings’ credit, they didn’t cry. Instead, they both volunteered to go with her.

  Jacob—of course—refused to allow it.

  “The team is already set,” he told Shawnee and Wester, when they showed up at a Council meeting, asking to join in on the mission. “It will be Nate, Pauly, and your sister.”

  “But I can shoot an arrow,” said Shawnee. “I’m really good. Everybody says so.”

  “Yes, you are,” agreed Jacob. “Which is exactly why we need you here defending the Point. And Wester—you’re also assigned to the Raiders. A good soldier doesn’t abandon his post.”

  The two of them left the meeting, dejected and sad.

  When they were gone, I turned to Kieran. “Did you know that Pauly was going up?”

  He nodded. “Says he’s going to rescue himself a supermodel.”

  “Dude’s given up on Cammie at last, I see,” commented Jacob.

  “Better have,” grinned Kieran, “considering she’s my girl.”

  * * * *

  On the first day of the mission, Jacob and I accompanied Nate, Pauly, and Cherry to the base of Encinal Canyon. We didn’t dare go any farther than that—in case there were any Crazy spies around.

  “You better come back,” I told Cherry, hugging her.

  “I will…I promise.” She rubbed her hand over her recently shaved head. With her breasts bound up and the black stubble penciled onto her chin, she made for a pretty hot boy. “You’ll take care of Shawnee and Wester, right?” she asked me.

  “Of course.”

  Cherry hefted her backpack onto her shoulders. It contained her drawing pencils, watercolors, and sketchpads.

  “You have everything you need, right?” I asked. “I mean, is there anything you might have forgotten?”

  “I’m fine, mom,” she teased. “Now, go on back to the Point where you belong…watch over our girls.”

  “Don’t take any chances, Cherry,” I warned her. “And Pauly and Nate—that goes for you guys, too.”

  The two boys lifted their own backpacks to their shoulders.

  “Roger that,” said Pauly. “See you in a week or so.” He fell in beside Cherry—giving her the once-over. “You’re looking pretty sexy there, baldy. You sure you’re still gay?”

  “Shaddup!” she grinned, giving him a hip check that sent him flying.

  Meanwhile, Jacob was giving Nate some final instructions. “You’re going to have to get them around the checkpoints. They don’t have a tattoo like you.”

  Nate nodded. “I left a note up at the water tower for the Stars. Hopefully, Brent will have someone at the Lindero checkpoint. If they don’t, then we’ll find a place to go overland.”

  “Once you get Cherry into Crazy-town,” ordered Jacob, “you make sure that she paints tattoos on herself and Pauly as soon as she’s got the first one figured out. That has to be your first priority. After that, it should be safer for her to go after the rest of the tattoos.”

  “Will do.”

  “And don’t forget to keep her away from the Arena. If Brandon or Tray or Orla catch sight of her, they’re sure to recognize her. You know what will happen to her next.”

  Nate was beginning to look restless. His head kept turning toward Pauly and Cherry, who had already started walking up the canyon.

  I nudged Jacob, gently. “He gets it…he understands.”

  Jacob sighed. “Just come back, Nate. Please…just come back.”

  Nate nodded; then, he started running.

  Moments later, the three of them—Nate, Pauly, and Cherry—disappeared around a curve in the road.

  “That’s it, then,” sighed Jacob, looking very unhappy. “I’m sorry, but I think it’s a terrible mistake sending Cherry.”

  I nodded. “So, do I.”

  “We can still call her back,” suggested Jacob. “They’re not too far up the hill.”

  “You know you can’t,” I told him. “This isn’t about what’s good for Cherry. This is about what’s good for the tribe.”

  Jacob put his arms around my waist, pulling me close. He kissed me lightly on the tip of my nose. “I told all three of them—at the very latest—they had to be back by Valentine’s Day.”

  “They better be,” I said. “Or I swear to god, I’ll go up there and bring them back myself.”

  * * * *

  As we walked back along the highway—our armed guards trailing behind—I noticed a small boy sitting by himself on Zuma Beach. It was Xavier, cradling his calico cat, rocki
ng back and forth in his grief.

  I let go of Jacob’s hand and walked over to sit down on the sand beside the kid. Meanwhile, Jacob sat down on Xavier’s other side.

  “You okay, Xav?” I asked.

  He didn’t look up—just held his cat in his lap and rocked slowly back and forth.

  “Did you get a chance to say good-bye to your brother?”

  Xavier nodded. “He said that I wasn’t supposed to come and watch him leave. He said that I was supposed to stay in the compound.”

  “Aw, that’s just what big brothers say,” advised Jacob. “He didn’t want you to feel bad.”

  “I do feel bad,” he sniffed, trying not to cry.

  Reaching out, I petted the calico cat. “What’s its name?”

  “Kanga,” he told me. “I wanted to name him Ru, but Nate thought that might not be a good idea. He thought it might upset some of the guys.”

  “So, you named him Kanga instead,” grinned Jacob. “Very sneaky…Kanga-roo.”

  “He’s a good kitty,” murmured Xavier. “He doesn’t try and run away.”

  “I’m sure he is a good cat,” I said. “But you really shouldn’t take him out of the compound. The coyotes are getting really brave now. Plus, there are mountain lions out here. You don’t want Kanga to get hurt, do you?”

  Xavier shook his head.

  “Well, then how about Jacob, you, and me bring Kanga home where he belongs?”

  “Okay.”

  He struggled to get up—a difficult thing with his arms so full of cat. I took the calico, to make it easier for Xavier to maneuver himself off of the sand. Kanga began purring in my arms, rubbing his head against my chin.

  “Glad you made it to the Point, little one,” I told the cat.

  * * * *

  Time moved slowly after Cherry, Pauly, and Nate left for the Valley. Council meetings came and went, crops were brought in from the field, 17-year old boys went into the cage and came out on the other side of their eighteenth birthdays.

  Days passed, then a week…then another one.

  Every single day, our sentries visited the water tower near Lindero. Not once was there ever a message—either from the Stars or from our own people.

  Cherry, Pauly, and Nate were essentially gone.

  JANUARY

  KAYLEE

  Lily, Hannah, and Shawnee eventually became their own little family. They moved into one of the larger bedrooms of the house—staying up late most nights to gossip about a variety of childish subjects, the most common one being ‘boys’. In the daytime—when Shawnee wasn’t off with the Raiders or Hannah helping Jay in the Clinic—the girls could be found racing around the house or the backyard, laughing and giggling as they chattered away.

  Rhys became a regular topic of their conversations. All three of the girls appeared to have big crushes on him, as well as, lesser crushes on Ian and Andrei. Hannah also adored Wester, who showed up regularly to visit with Shawnee—the two of them worrying about the whereabouts of their older sister.

  Ethan also came to the house, but he never told us in advance that he was coming. He didn’t need to—Lily somehow always knew when he would be arriving. And Pugly—like a child of divorced parents—spent part of his time with Lily at our house; the rest of the time he lived in the mansion with her brother.

  All of the kids were enrolled in Porter’s school now; they even attended almost all of their required days. Hannah and Lily especially enjoyed going to class. Porter appeared to be a good educator, keeping them entertained while teaching them their ABC’s.

  * * * *

  Just after Cherry left, all of us girls began martial arts training at the school Kieran set up in the house next to ours. Although the instructors were also teaching the rest of the Locals, Kieran made sure that our lessons were held separately. Even so, I would often look up from the mat, after being thrown over someone’s shoulder, to find one of the older guys peering in at us girls through a corner window.

  It always freaked me out.

  And, no matter how many times Kieran ordered them to stop, the same guys kept appearing again and again.

  There was one kid in particular—an 18-year old, whose name was Victor. He had come down the coastline from Oregon six months previously—a muscle-bound meathead, with an irritating laugh and an even worse personality.

  Victor was a bully, always pushing his way to the front of the food line or trying to rub up against us girls. Of course, he was always quick with an excuse and an apology, saying that it was an accident, but we girls knew what he was doing.

  * * * *

  One day, I was practicing karate routines with one of the instructors. I pivoted across the floor, kicking out first this way, then that. Suddenly, I spun around and faced the side window and—there Victor was—staring in at me, the look on his face one of intense desire.

  I was so creeped out, I just turned and ran.

  Like the other girls, I struggled with whether I should report him to Jacob. We were just starting to feel like we truly had a place within the tribe, and I worried that reporting Victor might result in bad feelings toward us girls.

  So, instead of saying anything—I just kept silent.

  The biggest mistake a girl can make.

  Always, always—report your stalker.

  * * * *

  Apart from our worries over what had happened to Cherry, Nate, and Pauly, we were also concerned about Sophia. She still hadn’t left the house—not even to visit the backyard, except to go to the foul area. Instead, her days and often sleepless nights were spent pacing. As she walked, Sophia counted her rosary, muttering away in Spanish—the same words over and over.

  She was also neglecting her hygiene. Sophia rarely bathed or changed her clothes now and—to be completely frank—she stunk.

  Lily found her current condition revolting and wanted nothing to do with her. I suppose that Lily felt that she had already done her duty, getting the older girl to Malibu. Now, she had simply washed her hands of Sophia—rarely speaking a word to her, even in passing.

  * * * *

  Jay and I met up on the rooftop one night—to talk about the situation.

  “I think that Sophia probably feels like she’s lost everything,” I suggested. “I mean, Reena is gone and now Lily won’t talk to her.”

  “Sophia’s the one who left Reena behind,” sniffed Jay. “And Lily did more than enough, getting the crazy bitch here.”

  “Jay!”

  “I’m sorry,” grumbled Jay. “But I’m tired of walking on eggshells around her. There’s a reason why nobody likes Sophia. I mean, Hannah can’t stand her. She says that Sophia is annoying—always walking the halls like a ghost, scaring the crap out of everybody.”

  “I think that we have to consider where she came from,” I remarked. “Her mother was really religious and Sophia is trying to reconcile everything she was taught to believe about the Rapture with what is actually happening.”

  “So—Sophia is waiting for the angels to come and take her up to heaven. Well, does she have to be such a bag lady while she’s waiting?”

  The door to the house suddenly opened and Jude came out onto the roof. “What are you guys talking about? If it’s guys, tell me now so I can leave.”

  “We’re talking about Sophia,” I said. “Trying to figure out how to help her.”

  “Have you ever considered that it might be better to just leave her the way she is?” said Jude. “When she’s all shuffly and mumbly-mouth like this, then Sophia’s not following us around, trying to convert us. Plus, if she’s not going outside, she doesn’t get into any trouble. It’s kind of a win-win, don’t you think?”

  “That’s not nice,” I said, frowning.

  “Yeah, whatever.” Jude gave a big sigh. “Look…do you want the old Sophia back?”

  Jay and I looked at each other—then shrugged.

  “Okay,” said Jude. “Watch and learn.” And she turned and headed for the door to the house.

&nb
sp; “Wait!” I yelled, stumbling after her.

  * * * *

  A few minutes later, I caught up to Jude just as she was wrenching the bible and rosary out of Sophia’s hand. The shocked girl just stood there, eyes wide, not knowing how to respond to this attack.

  “God’s got a message for you, Sophia Rojas,” Jude growled. “You were given the ability to cook the best damn meals ever, so you get your butt into the kitchen and start exercising that God-given right. And P.S…take a bath first because you stink and God doesn’t like you smelling like ass…okay?”

  Sophia nodded her head.

  “Okay,” she said, quietly. Then, she turned and walked off.

  As she disappeared around the corner, Jude yelled after her. “You’ll get your bible and rosary back after supper—but only if we love what you make!”

  “Okay!” was again Sophia’s response, coming from somewhere around the corner.

  Jude turned back to us, bowing. “And that, my friends, is how you deal with a whiner.”

  * * * *

  It wouldn’t be true to say that Sophia actually stopped whining; that would be a lie. Sophia continued to complain about everything—although never when Jude was nearby. But Sophia also went back into the kitchen—where she happily cooked all of our meals—making culinary masterpieces out of the least ingredients.

  And—she stayed clean.

  One night, she even joined Jay and me up on the rooftop. She was carrying a plate of chocolate muffins and three cups of cocoa.

  “Is it okay if I come out?” she asked from the doorway.

  Jay and I waved her over to where we were sitting near the edge, looking down at the dark coastline beyond the Point.

  “It’s pretty out here at night,” Sophia said, sitting down beside us. She placed the plate between Jay and me, waving at us to take a muffin. Then, she handed us each a cup of cocoa.