by Nancy Isaak
“You can’t miss the house,” said Ryan. “Looks like something that should be in Italy, lots of marble—and there’s a fountain in the driveway with these mermaids all around the base.”
“I know it—belongs to a producer friend of my dad’s.” Pauly headed toward the door. “It’s on the edge of this kind of ravine, right?”
“That’s the one,” nodded Ryan.
“Then, we can use the ravine as our entry, come up on the back side—just in case there are Crazies still inside.”
“Make sure you check the upstairs rooms,” Ryan added. “I’m not sure what’s there, but it’s important enough that none of us were allowed onto the second floor. Just the White Shirts and some of the officers.”
“Probably where they keep the booze,” joked Kieran.
Except it wasn’t—it was something much worse.
* * * *
After Pauly left, Ryan told me that I was making a big mistake with the Crazies in the cage. “Most of them are okay. But there are a couple of them—the ones I told you about—who are real bad, like Mateo-bad. I know you said that you aren’t going to kill them but, honestly, I think you should.”
“I think she should, too,” agreed Kieran.
“It’s just kind of the smart thing to do,” Ryan advised me. “Because if you send them back, they’re just going to tell Brandon and the Foxes everything they know. It’ll just be used against your tribe in the next fight.”
“No.” I shook my head. “Sorry, but I just think that it’s time for the killing to stop.”
“Yeah, but…that’s not going to stop them,” insisted Ryan. His eyes narrowed; he suddenly looked sneaky. “You know, I’m going to be heading back up the canyon with them. Maybe I can get rid of them if you give me—”
“We’re not giving you a weapon, if that’s what you’re suggesting,” I told him. “When you reach Agoura, how would you explain how you’re the only one who made it back alive? And what if Brandon sends guys back down the canyon and they find the bodies? Or maybe there are Crazies already there, hidden where you can’t see them, and they see you kill those guys?”
Ryan sighed. “I guess that makes sense.”
“Okay, then,” I said, standing up—my way of ending the meeting. “You should finish up your coffee, so we can get you back to the cage. We’ve got your list of guys who shouldn’t be allowed into the tribe. Is there anything else you think we should know?”
“Just one thing,” said Ryan. “About Brandon.”
“What about him?”
“Well…” He took a deep breath before continuing. “Brandon said that you were supposed to be taken alive. Like if any of us hurt you, we were gonna’ be put in the Arena. And if we killed you, then we’d simply be…food.”
“Why Kaylee?” asked Kieran.
Ryan just looked at him.
“Oh,” said Kieran, finally figuring it out. “Oh…that.”
* * * *
Three hours later—as I was taking a five minute break to brush my teeth and wash my face, trying to make myself feel a little more human—there came a loud knocking at my bathroom door.
Bam, bam, bam!
“Seriously?!” I barked, flinging the door open. “Like I can’t even have a few moments to myself in the bathroom!”
“Sorry, chief,” Florenza apologized. “But Pauly said you need to come.”
“Pauly’s back already?”
“Down at the Medical Clinic,” she nodded.
“Ohmigod…did somebody get hurt?”
“Not us,” said Florenza. “There were a couple of White Shirts at the house, but we got them before they saw us.”
“So, all of our guys are safe?”
Nodding, Florenza grabbed my hand, pulling me toward the door. “Come on, mami…we need you for this!”
* * * *
There were three of them sitting on one cot in the Medical Clinic—side-by-side, eyes wide, trembling in fear. All three—two boys and a girl—had shoulder-length blond hair and tear-filled blue eyes.
They were absolutely beautiful children—and they were only 8-years old.
“This is what they had up on the second floor,” I asked Pauly. “Little kids?”
He nodded. “We found them tied up. Each one was in a different bedroom.”
“Oh God…” My heart dropped.
Pauly shuffled his feet, looking down, unable to meet my eyes. “They were screaming when we came in…like we were going to kill them or something.”
I turned to Florenza. She was standing nearby, nervously chewing on a fingernail, as she watched a kneeling Jay talk quietly to the kids.
“Go get Peyton,” I ordered. “Tell her what’s going on. Tell her these kids will be living in her house for now.”
Florenza frowned, confused. “Peyton?”
Pauly leaned over and began to whisper in Florenza’s ear—no doubt some variation on what Peyton had gone through with her father. Slowly, Florenza’s eyes went wide with shock; she looked horrified, then angry.
Finally, she nodded at me. “On my way, chief.”
As she left the Clinic, Porter came over to speak with me. He looked exhausted, his eyes dark and hooded with fatigue. “We haven’t been able to check the kids out, yet. That’s as close as they’ll let Jay get. Me—they won’t let anywhere near.”
“Have they had anything to eat or drink?” I asked.
He shook his head.
“Sophia’s down in the cooking area.” I turned to Pauly. “Go tell her we’ve got little guys up here. Tell her we need something yummy for them…and some juice.”
With a nod, Pauly turned on his heel and ran out of the Clinic.
I looked back at Jay and the kids. One of the boys was finally allowing her to listen to his heart beat; she had her stethoscope placed gently against his chest. The other boy and girl were watching carefully, their hands laced together for comfort.
“They seem pretty healthy from here,” I ventured. “I mean, it doesn’t look like they’ve been starved or anything.”
The look on Porter’s face was grim. “When our guys found the kids, Pauly said they weren’t wearing any clothes. He said that their bodies are covered in bruises and cuts…that the girl has some open sores on her back that might be cigarette burns.” He stopped and wiped at his eyes, at the tears that were welling up along the rims. “It was the freaking White Shirts that did it to them!”
My own eyes were filling with tears; I thought about Ethan and Lily, how close they were to these kids’ ages—and how I would absolutely kill anybody who tried to do to them what had been done to these children.
Porter suddenly reached out and placed a hand on my arm. “Please don’t tattoo these kids!” he begged me. “Like I know they’re Crazies and everything but—just this once—don’t tattoo them. It’s just that they’ve been through so much already and none of it’s their fault. To mark them anyway—it would just seem cruel, you know.”
I nodded. “They’re safe, Porter. No one’s going to touch them…I promise.”
There was a small commotion at the door and Peyton and Florenza entered.
“That was quick,” I said, as Peyton pushed her way past Porter and me, not even stopping to acknowledge us.
“Girl was already on her way here,” Florenza said, moving to stand beside me. “Like the chica already knew or something. Maybe she’s the bruja, right.”
Peyton knelt down in front of the frightened children. She didn’t say a word, just stared at them, studying the kids; oddly enough, the boys and girl didn’t look away—they stared right back.
Then, again—who could blame them.
Peyton looked beautiful—like a resident of Rivendell—an Elven queen.
Her blond hair was free and flowing, and she was wearing a long, flowered dress—Bohemian and silky. On each wrist she had placed a dozen or more silver and gold hoop-bracelets; they tinkled softly as she finally reached out to touch each child in turn—gently placing a
hand against their cheeks.
But still—she was ‘our Peyton’.
“Fricking White Shirts!” she growled at the kids. “We should shove a hot rod up their bums and see how they like it! You guys agree with me?”
All three of the kids immediately nodded.
“That’s what I thought,” Peyton said. Then, she stood up and put out her hands. “Come on, guys. Let’s go home. We can come back in the morning and you can be checked out then.”
The little girl quickly latched onto Peyton’s hand, gazing up at the older girl in something approaching adoration. One of the two boys caught Peyton’s other hand, while the last boy grabbed a handful of her dress. Together, the four of them walked toward the door.
This time, however, Peyton nodded at me as she passed. “I’ve got them,” she told me, her chin held high—not out of condescension, but because she was struggling to keep tears out of her eyes.
“Thanks, Peyton,” I said, quietly.
But her attention was already back to the kids. As they headed outside, I heard her sniff at one of the boys and make a faux-coughing sound. “Hoo-boy!” she chuckled. “You stink! What do you say we fire up a tub of water when we get home and give you a bath, smelly-butt?”
I was astonished to hear giggles—childish and pure.
Beside me—Florenza burst into sobs. When I looked at her—surprised—she began to cry even harder.
Pauly quickly came over and placed his arms around her. “She’s like those hard candies,” he told me. “Crack her open, mami’s really all gooey inside.”
“Shaddup!” sobbed Florenza.
* * * *
The staging house on Kanan-Dume held more than just three traumatized children. It also—like Ryan had told us—was full of food, weapons, and ammunition. What was really exciting to find, however, were the thirty-odd bikes and dozen horses in the backyard.
Which confused me, because—why didn’t the Crazies use them in the battle?
If they had, I would guess that the results of our fighting would have been much different. An advanced cavalry on bikes and horses would easily have outpaced our defenses. In which case, no doubt, the Crazies would be the ones controlling the Point now.
Whoever had decided not to use the bikes and horses—I believed—had made a very big mistake.
I sincerely hoped that he was still in charge.
* * * *
My guys also found a pantry stocked with beer and other alcohol, as well as, two big tubs of marijuana—one of leaves, the other of rolled joints.
Big problem.
While most of our guys were underage, it was also a whole new world—which meant different rules. So, our Council struggled with the decision on what to do with the alcohol and pot.
Pauly, of course, wanted all of it brought to the Point immediately and made available to whomever wanted to ‘imbibe’.
Porter and Jay were the opposite; they didn’t want it anywhere near the tribe. Of course, they changed their minds immediately when Cammie suggested that some of the alcohol could be used in the Medical Clinic.
“Okay,” said Porter. “But just the alcohol—and only for medicinal reasons. Everything else we burn.”
“But that’s not fair,” said Cammie. “You’re making a decision for everyone and there are people in the tribe who are over eighteen now. They should be able to decide for themselves if they want to drink or light up.”
Kieran, who was sitting beside Cammie, turned his head and stared at her, astonished. “I never knew you smoked!”
“I don’t!” she hissed at him, annoyed. “There’s a reason they call it dope!”
“Then, why would you want it brought onto the Point?” he asked, confused.
“I don’t want it on the Point!” she said, as if it should be obvious. “I think that smoking weed makes you stupid. We had this one group of kids in our school, they were always lighting up at lunchtime behind the gym. They’d come back and they’d be all, like—oh, ya’ mun…we so cool and chill—but then they’d get all snarky and mean and, frankly, they stunk!”
“Okay…I’m like—totally confused,” admitted Kieran.
“After-effects from being such a pot-head,” grinned Pauly, beside him. “You ever tell your girl that you used to be a stoner?”
“Shaddup!” growled Kieran.
“Yes, Pauly…shaddup!” snapped Cammie. “Stop trying to make trouble! And, by the way, Kieran did tell me—so there!”
“This is going well,” I said, trying not to grin. “But I have to agree with Kieran, Cammie. I’m kind of confused by what you’re trying to say—are you for or against the weed being brought onto the Point?”
She gave a deep sigh—shaking her head. “What I’m saying is that we shouldn’t be telling anyone over eighteen what they can or cannot do.” Cammie frowned at Pauly. “Even if it means they’d do something stupid and act like a big ass-hat while they’re doing it!”
“But if you let everyone drink and smoke whatever they want,” warned Porter, “things could get ugly really quickly.”
Cammie opened her mouth to object, but I quickly held up my hands.
“I’ve heard enough and I agree—with both of you.”
In the end, I decided on a compromise.
Porter and Jay would take whatever alcohol they could reasonably use for the Medical Clinic. All the rest would be stored—under lock and key—in one of the rooms in the mansion. On weekends or special occasions, any tribe member over eighteen would be given a ration of alcohol equal to two drinks each night after 5 p.m. If they chose not to use their rations, that alcohol would go back into the tribe’s supply.
As to the pot—against Jay and Porter’s wishes—the rules were the same, with two exceptions. First, no tribe member would be allowed to light up in front of anyone under eighteen. Secondly—if any tribe member complained about the smoke or smell, the kid who was smoking would have to find some other place to light up—even if he was in his or her own room.
Truthfully, none of us were completely satisfied with the outcome.
Personally, I was going to be glad when the supply ran out. Like the rest of the Council, I knew that the tribe could always scavenge more booze and pot from the houses around us. I just didn’t like having the tribe handing it out.
To me—it just seemed wrong.
But defending that privilege—it just seemed right.
Politics was so confusing sometimes.
Leadership, even more.
* * * *
The day after our ‘discussion’ over the pot and booze, Kieran found me standing on the top of the knoll in the Nature Preserve. It was early in the morning and—as always—I was facing away from the ocean, looking back along Pacific Coast Highway to the north.
Over the last few weeks, it had become kind of a ritual for me—a hopeful way to start each day. Sometimes, Shawnee and Wester would join me, each of us holding binoculars to our eyes—searching for some sign that the people we loved had finally returned.
This day, however, I was by myself—except for the kid on sentry duty on the far side of the knoll—and my armed guards. Okay, so—except for five other guys—I was by myself, when Kieran walked up beside me.
Without a word, he reached out for the binoculars. I handed them to him, watching as he placed them to his eyes—scanning the coastline.
“The Alpha team we sent to check on the sentry positions has come back,” he told me.
I looked back up the coastline, toward Point Mugu. The sky was bright blue—no clouds, no wisps of smoke anywhere.
“All of the sentries got out okay, except the guys at Mugu,” Kieran continued. “The team found their bodies up on Mugu Peak—at the bonfire. Crazies must of followed them up the mountain.”
I felt sick—saddened beyond belief. “They died trying to warn us.”
Kieran nodded. “The Alphas buried them up on the peak,” he told me. “It’s why they took so long coming back. They thought it would be n
ice—like their graves are overlooking the coast and the ocean.”
“That is nice…Larry would have liked that.”
* * * *
As Kieran walked with me back to the compound, he tried once again to change my mind about joining the next expedition to search for Jacob and his team. “I think you really need to stay here. Like the tribe needs you in charge, Kaylee.”
“They’ll have you and Porter and Jay,” I said. “You guys will do just fine.”
“But I’d rather it be me going than you,” he grumbled. “It would just make more sense.”
I shook my head, disagreeing. “Not with Pauly going. The tribe needs at least one of you guys to stay behind. So, that means you.”
“Are you taking Shawnee and Wester?”
“Shawnee will go. But not Wester. He’s still kind of young for that and, if we’re going to be searching for Jacob’s team, I want us to be able to move fast—and hit hard if we have to.”
“And you’re leaving in two days?”
“That should give me a chance to get everything all sorted out first. For you—the main thing is keeping your eye out for Crazies. Keep up the sentries and get those bonfires back up again, because I wouldn’t put it past Brandon and the Foxes to send down another attack team while we’re still licking our wounds.”
“What about the evacuation boats? We still leaving them out?”
“Probably best for now. And you might want to start having like, evacuation drills or something. Practice getting kids into the boats and out onto the water.”
We slowed as a tumbleweed blew across our path, rolling down a small wash and up the other side, where it became tangled in the thorns of a prickly pear cactus. In the back of my mind, I suddenly had a memory of eating cactus in a restaurant with my mom and dad. When we got back to the compound, I would have to mention it to Sophia and Frank—see if it was worth our time trying to harvest the spiny plants for food.
“If it’s okay with you, Kaylee, I’m going to put Nate and Xavier in charge of the evacuation boats.”
