by Nancy Isaak
I was not surprised by her dedication. If anything, it confirmed my belief in Cammie as an amazing and compassionate human being.
Kieran was lucky to have her.
* * * *
Pauly also had his own nurse, of course.
A few nights after he had been released the first time, Florenza dragged an unconscious Pauly back into the Clinic. She was screaming like a banshee, waking up all the other patients, and demanding Jay to do something in Spanish that was impossible to decipher.
It had turned out that Pauly wasn’t sick like Kieran and the others, however. Instead, he had developed a nasty infection along the site of his neck wound. It festered and stank—parts of it even turning black.
Jay and Porter became worried that Pauly had developed something called necrotizing fasciitis—otherwise known as flesh-eating disease. They bathed his wounds in antiseptic and cut off the black parts. Then, they gave him massive doses of antibiotics and crossed their fingers.
And—very bravely—Jay and Porter did one final thing to help Pauly recover.
They banished Florenza from the Medical Clinic.
Needless to say, she did not take it well. There was cursing and crying and even an attempt at pushing by a guard.
It was Sophia who—surprisingly—wound up calming Florenza down. She spoke to her softly, as to a child, putting her arm around her shoulder and whispering into Florenza’s ear in Spanish. I had no idea what Sophia said to Florenza but, two hours later, the two of them were baking cookies together over the kitchen fire.
While they were definitely not friends—the two of them seemed to have developed a respect for each other. After that night, Florenza often cooked with Sophia. Although she didn’t exactly join the cooking team, Florenza usually spent two or three days each week helping with meals.
* * * *
Once Pauly had been released from the Medical Clinic, Florenza moved in with him. They took over a bedroom in the left wing of the Prince’s mansion, with Florenza decorating it with knick-knacks that she had scavenged from houses across the Point.
She was especially fond of unicorn figurines.
In some ways it was hard being around Pauly and Florenza. They had one of those hot and crazy relationships. There was always a lot of arguing, mixed with excessive kissing and fondling. At times, it became very embarrassing to the rest of us.
But—we also envied them.
Because they came together so easily—no concerns, no regrets.
* * * *
Unfortunately, while Pauly and Florenza’s relationship grew—Pauly’s friendship with Kieran suffered. No matter how much Kieran tried, he couldn’t seem to find a reason to like Florenza. The girl—with her loud mouth and history of violence—just seemed to rub Kieran the wrong way.
As the weeks passed and Florenza and Pauly’s relationship became more ‘exuberant’, Kieran spent less and less time around his friend. Florenza, meanwhile, seemed to be oblivious to the rift she was causing between Kieran and Pauly.
Or, perhaps, she simply didn’t care.
One thing about Florenza—she was a law unto herself.
* * * *
And for us girls—Florenza was also our secret teacher.
We kept it to ourselves but—at night—Florenza often held a ‘special’ self-defense class at my dad’s house for only the girls. She would teach us certain moves that she’d learned growing up in her neighborhood—how to strike first, how to fight dirty, how to use leverage instead of upper body strength.
I was constantly shocked at how vicious Florenza’s tactics were. But then, I kept having to remind myself that this was the girl who introduced herself to our tribe by slicing open Pauly’s throat.
“You gotta’ be like a snake,” she would always tell us. “Them boys won’t give you no second chances, so you don’t give them a first. You strike before they know what’s going on. ‘Cause they’re bigger and they’re stronger. Only way you chicks will win, you gotta’ take ‘em out before they know you coming.”
* * * *
All the girls showed up for the lessons.
Some like Hannah and Lily were there every night. Others like Jay and me came when our schedules permitted. Even Peyton showed up—although she kept it a secret from Frank.
“He wouldn’t like it,” she told me one night. “He’s kind of a baby when it comes to violence these days.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t, then,” I suggested. “I mean, you could just use a gun instead if you needed to protect yourself.”
Peyton sniffed, irritated. “Frank’s banned guns from the farm. Besides, sometimes guns are useless. Sometimes you just need to know how to wring a guy’s neck.”
It actually gave me chills to watch Peyton train.
Of all of us, she was the most adept. Anything that Florenza showed her, Peyton picked it up almost immediately.
“It’s ‘cause the chick’s got killer instinct,” Florenza told me. “Girl’s riding a lot of rage inside.”
Watching Peyton flip Shawnee and jam a knife up against her throat, I had to agree. Secretly, I wondered what Orla and Tray would think of their fellow Fox now. They had always treated Peyton like a simpering fool.
Would they fear Peyton now?
If they were smart—they would.
* * * *
While Peyton picked up Florenza’s training easily, Hannah and Lily were—to be honest—completely without the killer instinct. Mostly, they just played at defending themselves, taking pretend hits and giggling all the while.
Perhaps it was because they were so young. Whatever the reason, it was obvious that, at this point—those two girls were ill-equipped to defend themselves.
If the Crazies attacked the Point, Hannah and Lily would be easy prey.
* * * *
The one thing I wouldn’t let Florenza teach us, however, was to ‘spit razor’.
“But them girls are like little bunnies,” Florenza argued with me, nodding toward Hannah and Lily. “You stick a razor in their mouths and maybe they got a way to defend themselves.”
“You stick a razor in Hannah and Lily’s mouths,” I told her, “and those two kids will wind up in the Medical Clinic with Jay stitching them up.”
Florenza huffed. “I learned younger than them. Ain’t no big deal.”
“Well, it is here…and you’re not teaching it.”
“Yeah, whatever.”
“I’m serious, Florenza,” I warned her. “You’re not supposed to even be carrying a razor anymore.”
She took on a cagey look, picking up a nearby bottle of water and taking a drink. “No razor here,” she said, wiping at her mouth. “Couldn’t do that if I was still carrying, could I?”
“Oh, please,” I sniffed. “You and I both know that you can eat, chew gum, and probably even kiss with that damn blade under your tongue.”
“Plead the fifth, chica,” she grinned.
“And how the heck do you manage that anyway?” I asked. “Seriously, Florenza…you have a razor under your tongue. How does that even work?”
She shrugged, opening her lips just enough for a piece of metal to slip through. Then, Florenza made a small sucking sound and the razor disappeared again. When she opened her mouth wide, it was miraculously gone.
“My auntie, she got hit up when she was twelve, you know.” Florenza spoke quietly, after first making certain that Hannah and Lily couldn’t hear. “Two gang-bangers, they pulled her right off the street. Auntie didn’t get home for two days.”
“That’s horrible!”
“Where you live, maybe. My street, it’s just life.” She took another sip of her water, her eyes narrowing as she thought about the past. “My auntie, she learned the razor from another girl…same thing happened to her. One night, the two of them, they went out—real late, like. When they came back, my auntie and the other girl, they had blood on their chests…right here.” Florenza placed her hand just below her throat. “They never would tell me what they did
but—next day—the gangbangers, they never hurt any girl on our street again.”
“Because their throats were cut?”
Florenza’s lips became tight. “Weren’t their throats got cut, chica.”
“Ohmigod.”
She shrugged. “They got it coming to them.”
“What happened to your aunt?”
“Who knows,” said Florenza. “One day my momma just tell me she’s gone. Maybe it means she, like went down to Mexico or something. Maybe my auntie’s shooting horse down at the pier.”
“What do you think happened?”
“Me…I think auntie’s doing time somewhere, you know.” She shrugged again. “People disappear all the time from my neighborhood. Like if they ain’t dead, then they’re usually behind bars.”
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“Why?” Florenza frowned. “It’s no big thing…it’s just life.”
* * * *
Two days later, I rode Beauty up to the top of the Nature Preserve just before sunset. Three of my guards were with me—riding on their own horses—and they quickly surrounded me when we saw the figure at the far edge of the knoll.
“It’s okay,” I quickly told them, motioning for them to put away their weapons. “It’s only Shawnee.”
The younger girl was difficult to make out; she was crouching down, looking toward the coastline on the left. But I had—luckily—recognized the tip of her bow, rising from where it lay across her back.
“Wait for me,” I ordered my guards. Then, I slipped off of Beauty and headed over to Shawnee. “Any sign?”
She shook her head. “I don’t understand why they’re not home by now. They should have been home weeks ago.”
I sat down on the ground beside her. “That’s why we keep sending out search parties.”
Shawnee reached back for her bow, placing it across her knees. “I want to go on one of the teams.”
“And that will probably happen. But not yet. I need you here right now.”
“In case the stupid Crazies come.”
I nodded. “You’re leading the Raiders now, Shawnee. Rhys has put his trust in you.”
She sighed. “I miss Rhys.”
“You really like him, don’t you?”
She grinned at me, her mood lightening. “He’s fun…and he kisses good.”
For a moment, I considered not saying anything. Then, I decided that this was probably as good a time as any. “Listen, Shawnee…about Rhys. Well, I know that you guys like each other and everything but, well…sometimes, guys…like it’s not really as serious with them as it is with us girls, you know.”
I’m not sure exactly what reaction I was expecting from Shawnee, but it certainly wasn’t laughter. “It’s just kissing and hooking up, Kaylee,” she giggled. “It’s not like I want to get married to Rhys or anything.”
“But I thought...”
Shawnee couldn’t stop giggling. “I don’t even like him that way…I like Wyatt!”
My mouth dropped open. “Then, why are you—uh, you know—with Rhys?”
She looked at me like I was an idiot. “Because it’s fun!”
Suddenly—the tables turned; I felt like I had to protect Rhys’ feelings. “Does he know this?”
“Well, duh.” Shawnee stood up, replacing the bow across her back. “Me and Wyatt got a date. We’re going scavenging down at that singer’s mansion, the one who lives down near Little Dume.”
“Well, uh…have a good time,” I said, standing up myself.
“Thanks.” She turned to go, took a few steps, then turned back. “That was nice, Kaylee. Like big sister nice.”
“Just looking out for you, Shawnee—at least until Cherry gets back.”
Her face darkened at Cherry’s name. “You’ll come get me the moment you hear something, right?”
“Absolutely.” I said. “And Shawnee—about you and Wyatt…”
Before I could finish, her mood lightened once more and she giggled. “Don’t worry, Kaylee. Cherry already gave me ‘the talk’. Me and Wyatt are being safe.”
As Shawnee disappeared down the side of the knoll, I looked out along the coastline, northward toward Oxnard.
“Jacob,” I whispered. “Where the heck are you?!” Then, giggling slightly myself, I added, “And Cherry—your sister is making me feel so old!”
* * * *
Meanwhile, when Wyatt wasn’t off ‘having fun’ with Shawnee, he was busy inking Crazy tattoos on volunteers. He had just finished up with one of Kieran’s Alpha Teams and was worried that he only had enough colored ink left for a few more tattoos.
“I’m thinking maybe three, four if I’m careful,” he reported to me, later that evening at supper. “But after that, all I’ll be able to do is black and white.”
“Which won’t pass the Crazy checkpoints,” I said, unhappy.
“Not according to Josh.”
“And there’s absolutely no ink left in any of the houses or stores around here?”
“We’ve got people looking,” Wyatt said. “But nobody’s found any. As far as I can figure, the closest places for ink are up in the Valley or over past Mugu in Camarillo or Oxnard.”
“Which means that we’ll have to wait until the team gets back or send out a new team.”
“Cherry said that she’d bring home the ink I need,” Wyatt said. “She knows the colors.”
“And she will…we just need to give her more time to get back.”
Wyatt didn’t say anything—just nodded; it was obvious that he was as worried about the expedition team as the rest of us.
Suddenly—I heard giggles.
Looking at the table across from us, I saw Hannah and Lily, their heads together, pointing toward Wyatt and me.
“I think you might have a couple of fans,” I told Wyatt.
“It’s not that,” he said, looking embarrassed. “It’s just that…well, they want me to give them tattoos.”
“What?!”
“Not that I’m going to,” he added, quickly. “But Hannah wants Tinkerbell on her arm and Lily wants Pugly on hers.”
“And it’s not going to happen obviously,” I said, firmly.
“Obviously.”
* * * *
As May moved on and the sun gradually replaced the rain, the Point began to dry up—and the Crazies returned.
They still maintained their distance, but they were definitely inching down the canyons and up along the southern end of the Pacific Coast Highway. Our patrols would see them from afar—no more than two of three Crazies at a time—heading toward some nefarious destination, no doubt.
To bolster our defenses, meanwhile, I had more bonfires put up.
Cammie took charge, leading a small team that built a total of six more bonfires. Five of them led up Encinal, all the way to Mulholland.
The last bonfire—the one closest to Mulholland—was placed off in the bush. Because of the Crazy sentry post at Mulholland Highway and Encinal Canyon, it was the closest that we could get without being discovered.
The sixth new bonfire was placed along Pacific Coast Highway, just outside of Paradise Cove. I would have liked to have had more bonfires along the southern end of the Highway, but the increasing Crazy patrols there made that impossible.
* * * *
I was impressed with Cammie’s ability to lead a team.
She had four guys with her—all big, tough kids in their late teens—and they all followed her directions without complaint. I had been a little bit worried about them—that, frankly, they might try and touch her, hassle her, that sort of thing.
It was an unnecessary worry.
Like my armed guards, her team of guys became like brothers to Cammie.
They teased her, but it never went farther than that. Florenza said that it was probably because they were afraid of Kieran. Personally, I think it was because they respected Cammie.
She worked as hard as anybody in the tribe. Even though she could have chosen an easier job—be
cause she was with Kieran, and because she was a girl—Cammie cut down branches, lifted logs, and threw down boulders just like any of the older guys.
Cammie was also working with her team to create a system of ‘smoke codes’. They were trying to figure out how to make smoke signals, like the ones Native American Indians used once upon a time—a useful idea if they could actually get it to work.
Unfortunately, they hadn’t had much success.
Instead, we continued to use colors.
Red meant that Crazies were heading toward Point Dume. Green meant friendlies were coming, and black meant that a particular sentry location needed help immediately.
* * * *
Every day, I looked toward Point Mugu and prayed for green smoke.
And every day—I feared seeing red.
* * * *
Along with the four older guys on Cammie’s team, I also assigned her two guards.
As part of their training, Shawnee had wanted her Raiders to take on more responsibility in the tribe. Giving them guard duty seemed like a good fit for the younger Raiders; they could keep an eye out for the Crazies and practice their defensive tactics at the same time.
Which was how Ethan and Wester became Cammie’s two Raider guards.
The boys had seemed so lost without Ian, Andrei, and Rhys. As the weeks went by and the expedition team didn’t return, their faces became longer and sadder. Assigning them to Cammie’s team gave Ethan and Wester something important to do—besides worrying about their missing tribe members.
* * * *
Meanwhile, while Cammie was building up our land warning system, Nate and Xavier were working on a system for the ocean. I had been worried for some time that the Crazies could possibly attack us from the sea. If they came from that direction—without a warning system in place—we would be blind.
