365 Days At War

by Nancy Isaak

  The older Crazy who had moved to protect the younger one spoke up, his voice somewhat shaky, but determined. “Are there really no slaves in this tribe?”

  “No slaves…we don’t believe in that.”

  For a moment he said nothing, then—as if he had come to a decision—he took a deep breath and spoke again—quickly. “There are guys in this cage who have slaves…and…guys who have done some really bad things to girls…and to the little ones like Louie and Sandeep here!”

  Behind him, there was grumbling from some of the Crazies.

  It stopped immediately when I looked up; whoever had been objecting obviously didn’t want to be identified.

  Irritated, I moved back to the front of the cage—so that I could talk to all of the Crazies more easily. “To those of you who have hurt others, who have taken guys or girls as slaves, what I have to say to you is simple—shame on you…you disgust me!”

  I saw a few of the older Crazies look down at the ground; another one’s eyes narrowed, his hands tightening into fists.

  “You are damn lucky that you’re a prisoner of the Locals and not the Crazies,” I continued. “Because the worst that will happen to you here is we will give you food and water and send you back. But—and mark my words well because this is very important—if you ever return to our territory, if you ever come anywhere near our tribe—we will shoot you on sight!”

  Kieran moved up beside me, whispering in my ear. “How do we know which ones are bad?”

  When I responded, however, it was not to Kieran—but to the Crazies. “Each one of you will be brought out of this cage and questioned privately. That will be your one and only chance to plead your case, to tell us what you know of those of you who should not be allowed to stay with our tribe and why.”

  “Snitches get stitches!” The hissed threat came from somewhere near the back of the cage.

  Almost immediately, the Crazies parted—moving to either side—until a large kid of about eighteen was left standing by himself. Like Mateo, he was wearing only a loincloth and a breastplate made out of bones. There was a small tattoo of an anarchist-A on his forehead and his head was completely shaved. Without even looking, I knew that—if he turned around—there would be another anarchist-A on his back, this one with lightning bolts on either side.

  “Don’t let the door hit you in the ass,” Pauly snickered at him.

  The kid lunged toward me, his face twisted with rage. I didn’t move, not even when he flung his arms through the bars, his fingers missing my face by mere inches.

  “You bitch!” he screamed. “You freaking bruja!”

  “And you’re an irrelevant piece of trash,” I told him, calmly. Then, I turned to Kieran and Pauly. “When you finish marking them all, give this one Mateo’s body and send him back up Kanan.”

  “What do you mean—marking us?” asked the tall kid with the star between his fingers.

  “All of you will get a small tattoo…right here,” I touched my fingers to the back side of my right shoulder. “A set of wings that will mark you as having been Crazy. For those of you who want sanctuary—it is simply part of the price of joining our tribe. For those of you who will be refused sanctuary—your wings will be tattooed upside-down—facing hell, so to speak. And from this day forward, all Locals will be authorized to kill on sight, anyone bearing upside-down wings; so my advice to you would be to stay on your own side of the mountains.”

  I turned and sniffed at the grimacing Crazy still huffing and puffing at the bars in front of me. “Obviously yours will be upside-down.”

  “You seriously think a tattoo’s gonna’ keep me from coming back?” he sneered. “I answer to Brandon and not you, bruja.”

  I shrugged. “Come back if you want. That would suit me just fine, because I’m pretty sure there are any number of Locals here who would just love to cut you down to size.”

  There was scattered hooting and jeering; a few of the Locals pulled out their knives and waved them at the Crazy. For the first time, the kid’s confidence began to falter; he moved a few steps back, toward the security of the other Crazies.

  Unfortunately—for him—they all moved even farther away.

  Enraged by their betrayal, he spun back on me and sneered. “You think you’re so smart, bruja. But we’ll be back…just you wait and see!”

  * * * *

  “I want to begin questioning each guy,” I told Kieran and Pauly. Then, I pointed toward the Crazy with the star between his fingers. “Give me fifteen minutes, then bring me that one first. I’ll be in the Council room.”

  “What about dumbass?” asked Pauly, pointing toward the surly Crazy with the anarchist-A on his forehead.

  “Get Wyatt to tattoo him ASAP. Then, I want him and Mateo’s body off of our Point.”

  “You don’t want to question him?” Kieran asked.

  I shook my head. “We couldn’t trust anything he had to say. And I think we can get more from the rest of the guys. I’d rather not muddy their info with his lies.”

  “Fifteen minutes?”

  “Fifteen minutes,” I nodded.

  Kieran gave me a worried look.

  “I’m fine,” I assured him. “I just need a moment.”

  * * * *

  Jay found me at the edge of the cliff.

  I was standing there, looking out at the ocean. With the moon still below the horizon, it was too dark to see much—but I could at least listen to the waves crashing on the shore; they whistled and thundered, each boom sending tremors along the ground that vibrated under my feet.

  “I thought I’d find you here,” she said, coming up to stand beside me.

  “Let me guess,” I sniffed, irritated. “You’re here to make sure that I’m not crying my eyes out like a little baby.” I reached down and picked up a small stone—throwing it out into the dark. After a few seconds, I heard it clatter among the rocks below. “I’m okay.”

  “Then, what’s with all the attitude? Why are you being such a pissy-pants?”

  Offended, I turned and stared down at Jay. She crossed her arms and stared right back. “Well, sorry…but you are.”

  “Gee, Jay…I’ve just killed, I don’t know dozens of people—and almost thirty of my own guys are dead. I’ve been up all day fighting actual battles. I’ve still got a good five hours ahead of me, questioning all those Crazies in that cage just to make sure that we don’t let in any psychopaths. Oh…and before I forget it…the boy I love is missing! So—if I’ve got a bit of an attitude with you…I’m sorry!”

  “You done whining?”

  My eyebrows rose up; I was stunned by her lack of sympathy. “Are you serious?”

  “Well, it’s just that you forgot how everyone is counting on you to save them…that the tribe would probably have fallen without you…that those guys back there are thinking about you like their mother…I could go on if you want.”

  My eyes filled with tears and—for a moment—I couldn’t speak.

  Sighing, Jay reached into her pocket and pulled out a chocolate bar—a Kit Kat. “Look…you’re all those things, Kaylee…and more,” she said. “Without a doubt, I believe—and so do those guys back there—that the Crazies would be walking all over this Point right now except for you. Because you saved this Point…you saved all of us!”

  “But…”

  “But…I don’t know.” She sighed again, frustrated. “I guess now I’m the one being kind of pissy-pants. It’s just that I miss the old Kaylee. I mean, I know you’ve got to be tough and the leader and everything. But with me—I guess I just want you to be…Kaylee.”

  She began to unwrap the Kit Kat, the smell of the candy wafting up to tantalize me.

  “What’s with the chocolate?” I asked, my mouth already beginning to salivate.

  “What do you think?” she grinned. “It’s bait. I figure you and me are going to sit down and share this chocolate bar—just the two of us—Kaylee and Jay. Then—when you’re good and ready and have caught your breath—you c
an go back to being Mother again.”

  And that’s just what we did.

  Sitting side-by-side—our legs dangling over the edge of the cliff. It was good to ‘yak’ with Jay again—like sisters; I felt my taut nerves begin to settle, the tension in my body unwind.

  “How do you really feel?” she asked at one point. “About what you had to do today?”

  I shrugged. “Honestly…I think it will probably hit me later but, right now—I just feel like I did the only thing that I could.”

  “If you, like get depressed or something—you come to the clinic, okay?”

  “Let me guess…you’ve got some magic pill—for taking away the killer blues?”

  She held up the empty Kit Kat wrapper. “You just had it.”

  “You’re a good friend,” I said, reaching over to hug her. “Porter’s lucky to have you.”

  Jay slugged me in the arm. “There’s nothing going on between us! How many times do I have to tell you that?”

  “Whatever.” I stood up to brush the dirt off the seat of my pants. “Now, you’ll have to excuse me, but I’ve got to go talk to some Crazies.”

  “There are Stars in that cage,” said Jay, becoming serious. “You saw their tattoos, right?”

  I nodded. “I’ll be interviewing them first. They should be able to tell us who’s safe to let in the tribe.”

  “And the bad ones—the ones that are really Crazy—you’re not going to kill them, are you?”

  “Only if they come back to the Point.”

  We turned and started walking toward the main compound. As we moved, I saw dark shapes pacing us on either side. It was my guards, of course—shame on me for not realizing they had followed me!

  “Kaylee?” asked Jay, as we neared the outer wall.

  “What is it?”

  “Do you think they’ll come back?” Her voice was soft, scared—full of worry. “The Crazies—we beat them pretty bad so, what do you think? Maybe they won’t come back, right.”

  I sighed, trying to decide if I should tell the truth or a lie.

  The truth won out. “They’ll be back…it’s just a question of when.”

  JULY

  KAYLEE

  I still find it hard to believe that I have killed—that I have taken another human’s life.

  And not just one person—I have killed many.

  Without a doubt, it was to survive; if I hadn’t taken their lives, they would have taken mine—and the lives of the people I love and have sworn to protect.

  But it still worries me…it befuddles me…it confuses me.

  How come I’m not bothered by it? How come I’m not broken up about it?

  How come I don’t feel guilty?

  I wonder what Jacob will think of me when he finds out; I worry that he’ll hate me for it.

  Now—that bothers me.

  * * * *

  The beginning of July brought summer to Point Dume; the sun beat down on us, drying up the last remnants of spring flooding, warming our poor, battered bodies. We were a tribe in recovery—mourning our dead, caring for our wounded, tentatively poking at our own cuts and bruises—both emotional and physical.

  Jay and Porter worked overtime to get everyone back on their feet. Ironically, Sophia worked just as hard—her cure a constant stream of hearty soups and stews, tables heavy with pies and cakes.

  We lost three more guys during the first few days after the battle—two of them Locals, the third guy one of the Crazies—all from gunshot wounds. A fourth Local died soon after, a 15-year old who had worked with Frank at the farm. The kid had been sick for weeks—lying in the Medical Clinic—tossing and turning from what Jay and Porter had thought to be the flu.

  But his sickness had gone on for so long.

  And there were still seven other guys sick in the Clinic.

  It made Jay and Porter wonder if, perhaps, there was something more dangerous out there, more exotic, passing through the tribe.

  * * * *

  Meanwhile, the Crazies we had accepted into the tribe were trying hard to fit in. Five of them had joined Frank’s crew and were presently helping to convert the grounds of a large estate down on Greenwater Road into fields of beets and Brussels sprouts that would be ready for harvest in the late fall.

  One of the new farm guys was DJ—an 18-year old from Agoura High—who was, in fact, a former football teammate of Frank and Jacob. And like Frank, the kid just wanted to be left alone; he was tired of the violence, the ugliness—grateful to finally be living a far simpler life.

  In fact, many of the Crazies—like DJ—attended Sophia’s Sunday non-denominational church services, which she held out at the Nature Preserve. They seemed to take comfort in a faith that was more reminiscent of the civilized world they had left behind—and that didn’t require them to drink blood!

  Ironically, the younger Crazies—the ones who had been the most traumatized by their experiences—seemed to adapt to our tribe the easiest. Their wariness, their distrust, evaporated within days—some from the first moment Sophia placed a cookie in their small hands.

  I think it also helped that our younger guys like Ethan, Wester, and Xavier were so friendly. Two days after the battle, the lot of them formed a kind of informal league that met behind one of the houses each afternoon for a noisy game of soccer. Pugly became their mascot, snuffle-barking at their ankles as he raced up and down the sidelines, following the action on his tiny legs.

  It would be wrong to say that—soccer games and cookies aside—the transition was easy. In fact, there were dirty looks from both sides, nasty words here and there, even a couple of fistfights.

  Still—we eventually came together.

  One tribe.

  * * * *

  Of the three Stars that had been in the cage of Crazy prisoners, two of them decided to join us, while one—Ryan—returned to the Valley, to continue the fight against Brandon and the Foxes there. I felt bad about tattooing upside-down angel wings on his shoulder, but Ryan assured me that it would strengthen his position in the Valley tribe—help the Crazies believe that he was really one of them.

  Because I was worried that Ryan might be accidentally shot by one of our guys, I also had Wyatt tattoo a small ‘2’ into the feathers of the wings. It could barely be seen—you would have had to have been looking closely to notice it. Frankly, it was Wyatt’s idea, the ‘2’ standing for double—as in double agent.

  Hopefully, it would protect Ryan—if and when he came into contact with any member of our tribe.

  * * * *

  I liked Ryan and wished that he would stay on the Point.

  He was a good kid who had—like so many of the Crazies—simply got caught up in an unfortunate situation when the world changed. Now, he and others like him—the Stars—were desperately trying to find a way to change things in their tribe back to something close to ‘normal”.

  “There are so many great guys in the Crazies,” Ryan had assured me, when I questioned him the night of the attack. “And so many really young boys that kind of believe everything that Brandon and Mateo told them. I just can’t walk away from them, you know. I mean, somebody has to stay and fight, right?”

  We were in the Council room, talking quietly around the table—drinking coffee and eating some sort of nut bar that Sophia had made. Kieran and Pauly were also there, as well as, my guards who were stationed near the door, watching Ryan carefully.

  “How many kids are in your particular Star-group?” Kieran asked.

  “Most of our cells have five kids—some have more, some have less—but it’s usually five. That’s what I have…had.” Ryan stopped talking and took a long sip of his coffee, frowning. “Two of my guys got killed out there on the road. Another’s in the cage. I don’t know about the last guy.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I wish there had been some way that we could have known you Stars were there…but we just didn’t.”

  He nodded. “We didn’t even know this battle was going down ourselves
until yesterday. Suddenly, there’s like these White Shirts at our doors. They’re telling us to get dressed and grab our weapons, because we’re heading down to the beach to kick your asses.”

  “That must be why there were no messages at the water tower from Brent or Han,” I said to Kieran. “Brandon and the Foxes were probably keeping it a secret that they were going to attack—in case we had spies up in Agoura Hills. If nobody knew to tell us and we didn’t know you guys were coming—it’d be harder for us to defend the Point.”

  “Pretty much,” admitted Ryan. “And there were White Shirts marching with us who had orders to shoot if any of us tried to leave our squads. Like if we turned around and went the wrong way—they just started shooting.”

  “We never saw any White Shirts,” Pauly piped up. “There are none with the bodies either, the Crazies who got killed.”

  “I’d be surprised if there was,” Ryan said, grimly. “The White Shirts didn’t go any farther than the staging houses.”

  “What are the staging houses?” I asked.

  “I only know the one on Kanan-Dume. Because that’s the route my group came down. There’s like this big mansion there—it’s kind of on the right side of that last hill that heads down to the Point. When we came down the canyon, we stopped there until we were ready to attack. There was like lots of food and drinks and stuff—and weapons, ammunition, things like that.”

  Pauly perked up. “You think some of that stuff could still be there?”

  “Unless the White Shirts took it back up into the Valley, I would think so.”

  “We’ll need to send a team up Kanan-Dume,” I decided. “Pauly, you want to run lead on that?”

  He nodded. “We should probably head up right away…before the White Shirts have a chance to empty the place.”

  “Do it,” I ordered. “But make sure you go in silent, though—just in case there are still Crazies there.”