by Nancy Isaak
* * * *
Apart from what the arrival of the new girls—and primarily Miley—was doing to my relationship with Jacob, I was also worried about something else. It was probably just paranoia on my part but—I couldn’t help but wonder if the girls were not exactly what they seemed.
Something just seemed off to me.
Their story of how fifteen girls made it through almost two years in this new world without being harmed, without being attacked in any way—seemed contrived to me. I mean, was it really possible that they could have survived the way they did without coming into contact with any true bad guys?
Was that even possible anymore?
And how had they really made it from Ventura to the Point without gaining the attention of the watchers—Crazy or Local? Had the girls really been that lucky—or did they pass by unscathed because they had been given safe passage?
As in—were they actually spies for the Crazies?
In my heart, I realized that not only was that illogical—it was highly improbable. Because—seriously—fifteen girls being double agents for a tribe that enslaves and abuses females; it just didn’t make sense.
But—I was still watching them.
* * * *
The last week of September—as the sun was rising on a cold, misty morning—one of our sentry detachments along Encinal Canyon discovered a bouquet of roses and a bottle of wine in the middle of the canyon road, mere feet away from the blockade they were camped behind. There was a yellow ribbon around the bottle, along with a label; on it was written—once again—two words. “For Kaylee.”
Thoroughly spooked that a Crazy had come so close to their defensive position in the dark of the night, two of the sentries raced back to the Point to deliver my ‘gift’. I was in the Council room at the time—going over the farm supply list with Frank. Peyton and the three young kids from the Crazy safehouse, meanwhile, were seated at the far end of the conference table—waiting patiently for the meeting to end, coloring and drawing in sketchbooks.
When the flustered sentries nervously handed over the roses and bottle of wine, I read my name on the label and sighed, “Fracking Brandon!”
Then, I looked up at the sentries and shook my head. “Look, don’t worry about it, okay? This is just what Brandon does—to unnerve me…us. But you’re going to have to be more vigilant. Like make sure you’ve got someone up high covering you, especially at night. In fact, I want you to talk to Rhys—get a Raider up there to help.”
“It’s just…like we never heard…anything,” the biggest of them stammered. “The bottle was…it was sitting there…like we honestly never even heard them come near.”
“Like I said, don’t worry about it,” I repeated. “It’s probably just Brandon or the Foxes being asshats. But I do need you to go talk to Rhys, because this can’t happen again.” I waved toward the door, thanking them. “And drop by the food area before you head back. Sophia’s putting out all the cookies that are past their best by dates. Make sure you grab some to take back to the rest of your team.”
They both nodded, then headed out, closing the door behind them.
I turned to Frank, placing the roses and bottle of wine on the table beside me. “Okay, let’s get back to the list. You haven’t written how many corn seeds you want?”
“Corn kernels…and as many as we can get,” said Frank. Then, he tapped the bottle of wine. “You really think it’s them…Brandon and the Foxes?”
“Yeah, probably,” I murmured, turning to the second page on Frank’s list. “What’s an auger and why do you need it?”
“Maybe it’s, like from a secret admirer,” teased Frank.
“Can I see?” Peyton leaned across the table, reaching for the bottle of wine.
“More likely a psychotic freak. There’s a reason they call themselves Crazy.” I looked up from Frank’s list and raised my eyebrows, questioningly. “The auger?”
Frank grinned as he handed the wine to Peyton. “Kind of like a power drill without the power. You use an auger to make holes—smaller ones in wood, bigger ones in dirt.”
“Like for making holes for fence posts?”
“Exactly,” Frank nodded. “We’re getting so many deer on the Point now. I’d like to have a fence up before we start planting the corn.”
I tapped another entry on his supply list. “Guess all this chained link makes sense then. But we definitely don’t have this much on the Point—which means another trip up into Oxnard.”
“It’ll help a lot if you could bump the seeds and fencing onto the next expedition. The sooner we get everything, the sooner we can start planting.”
Peyton suddenly harrumphed down at her end of the table, gathering both of our interests.
“This isn’t a present,” she declared, rolling the bottle of wine back toward me. “It’s an invitation.”
* * * *
We had sent the three kids out of the room to have a private conversation. Now, they were playing on the grand staircase—taking turns sliding down the banister—while Frank, Peyton, and I discussed the wine bottle.
“Brandon’s a douche,” Frank was saying. “It’d be just like him to send something like this to Kaylee.”
“Except that I don’t think that Brandon sent it,” insisted Peyton.
“Well, then who?” I asked. “Tray…Orla?”
Peyton shrugged. “I don’t know who exactly—but I’ve got a good idea.” She used her finger to trace the label on the wine bottle. “See it?”
I gasped. “The label’s a star!”
“So, what?” asked Frank. “Just because the label’s in that shape doesn’t necessarily mean that the wine came from one of the Stars. It could just have easily come from Brandon or the Foxes—like they’re using it to trick Kaylee or something.”
“Which kind of makes more sense,” I agreed. “Plus—how does sending me a bottle of wine with a star label even mean it’s an invitation anyway?”
“Oh, for god’s sake!” sniffed Peyton, obviously frustrated with our inability to keep up with her conclusions. “This isn’t even a real label. Like this winery doesn’t even make a moscato!” Taking one of her long fingernails, she worked at a corner of the label, pulling it up, bit-by-bit. Sure enough—underneath—there was a tiny scrap of another label still clinging to the bottle.
Frank looked up at Peyton, shocked. “How did you know that?”
“I know things,” she grouched, looking a little insulted.
“No…I mean, of course you do. But like…that’s so random.”
Peyton grinned. “Because that’s Alice.”
* * * *
There were three of them who had developed a taste for wine—Peyton, Yazmeen, and Alice. They began to have wine-tasting nights, usually just after finals—stealing bottles from their parents’ cellars—a drunken variation of a girls’ sleepover.
It was a secret that the three of them shared; not even Orla or Tray knew.
“Because they’d make fun of us,” Peyton admitted. “Or they’d try and take it over and then it would become…like their thing.”
Their wine addiction had started with a simple flirtation.
Alice had a cousin who worked at one of the local vineyards—an older boy who had a crush on Peyton. He would let them in through one of the side gates, sneaking them bottles of wine, which they would all drink together—usually sitting on a blanket, hidden among the vines.
“So, how can you be so sure that it’s a message from Alice?” asked Frank.
“Duh…the date on the label, when the winery was established.” Peyton held up the bottle—tapping at the label.
I leaned forward, squinting my eyes to read the small print. “Ohmigod!”
Peyton grinned. “I know, right!”
“What is it?” asked Frank, trying to read over my shoulder.
“The date the winery was established…it’s for two days from now!”
“And look at the label,” said Peyton. “It looks professional, but it’s
like one of those handmade ones. I mean, it’s obviously been typed up and the logo is pretty good—but it’s definitely not legit because I know this winery. It’s where Alice’s cousin worked.”
“So, you think that Alice is using the winery as a place for a meet?” Frank didn’t look convinced. “I mean, that date is certainly suspicious. But—seriously—if it was Alice, how come she didn’t address the bottle to you? That would make more sense. To send it to Kaylee—she wouldn’t even know what it meant.”
“Maybe she was hoping that I would look at it.” Peyton shrugged. “And, honestly—if I heard someone sent Kaylee a bottle of wine, I probably would have checked it out…just cause. Or maybe this was Alice’s first try at contacting us outside of the water tower—a way that wouldn’t lead back to her if Brandon found out.”
“It just seems a lot, you know,” said Frank. “Like relying too much on coincidence and luck.”
“I agree with Frank,” I said. “There’s just no way that she’d know I’d even get the bottle—let alone that you would see it.”
Peyton looked extremely frustrated. “And if this didn’t work, Alice would have probably tried something else. I mean, it’s so freaking obvious! How come you guys don’t see it?”
I sighed, picking up the label and studying it once more. “Even if this is from Alice—who’s to say that this isn’t a trap?”
“Do you want me to go?” asked Peyton. “I’ll go.”
“No, you won’t!” barked Frank. “I won’t allow it!”
Peyton leaned back in her chair and grinned at me. “It’s so cute the way he thinks he can control me.”
I had to agree—it was cute.
* * * *
As I left the Council room, I ran into Jay—racing up the stairs, a smile plastered onto her face.
“You look excited,” I said. “Something going on that I need to know about.”
She immediately grabbed my hand and pulled me into a quiet alcove. “I think Cammie might be pregnant!”
“What…are you sure?”
“No, so don’t say anything, yet. But I’m, like ninety-five per cent sure that it’s a maybe!” Jay was practically giddy with the idea; she bounced from one foot to the other in her happiness at the possibility of another tribe baby. “I saw Cammie outside of the Clinic this morning—in the hallway. Then, when I went out later to fill up the condom bowl, I noticed that one of the pregnancy kits was missing.”
Jay grabbed my hands, jumping up and down. “Can you, like even imagine—two babies at once...two!”
Honestly—the last thing I wanted to imagine was a baby.
But I jumped up and down and squealed with delight anyway—just to make Jay happy.
* * * *
Two days later, I rode away from the Point with only Erroll at my side.
It was a last minute decision—one I had agonized over—and I resented not being able to explain it to Jacob. But, unfortunately—when I had woken up in the morning—my darling husband was nowhere to be found.
So—instead of telling Jacob that I was about to put my life on the line and do something that was probably very stupid and reckless—I simply left him a note saying that I was out riding the sentry points and should be back by dinner time.
Like he would even read it.
Like he would even care.
* * * *
I could tell that Erroll was furious with me; his shoulders were tight and tense, and he didn’t say a word as we crept along the top of the ridgeline. We had left the horses a couple of miles back, at the last of the Encinal Canyon checkpoints. The sentries there had been given a sealed envelope with the instructions that—if Erroll and I hadn’t return by nightfall—one of them was to head to the Point and deliver the envelope to the first Council member they could find.
“You can’t just ignore me,” I whispered to Erroll, as we moved behind a large rock. “Leaders make decisions people don’t like all the time.”
“And some leaders make really stupid decisions,” he muttered.
“Which is why we have guys like you around.” I pushed at him with my shoulder, trying to get a reaction. “To keep us safe from our stupid selves.”
He spun around toward me. “You should of told me what we were doing, instead of just springing it on me as we were riding up Encinal! It wasn’t fair and it wasn’t smart. I could have had a team up here this morning, checking the place out if you’d given me enough warning.”
I shrugged. “We’re checking it out now.”
“And if it’s a Crazy trap?”
“Then, let’s not get caught in it,” I suggested.
Erroll’s eyes narrowed. He was about to say something, then thought better of it. Instead, he just turned back around and started maneuvering himself around the rock once again.
“So,” I whispered at his back, “on another subject—Jude’s looking pretty hot lately, now that’s she putting weight back on—don’t you think?”
He spun around and glared at me. “Seriously?!”
* * * *
Just twenty-three months ago, the vineyard Erroll and I were staring down at would have been full of wine aficionados, lazing the day away in the various wine pavilions scattered throughout the hundred-plus acre estate—sucking back merlot and cabernet. Today, though, the winery appeared deserted, its vines withered and dying for lack of irrigation. Invasive weeds had taken over; in some places, they were taller than the puckered and desiccated grape vines.
To the left, a small copse of blackened trees gave evidence of a fire sometime in the near past—most likely, a lightning strike that, luckily, had burned itself out quickly. Alice stood next to the copse, in the roadway leading up to the main tasting pavilion. She was wearing dark jeans and motorcycle boots with a flannel button-down shirt. Her hair had been shaved off completely, except for a thin mohawk-strip straight down the middle.
She had never more looked like a Brady Bob.
The most extraordinary thing, however, was the figure who stood beside her.
It was obviously a girl—a few inches shorter than Alice—and wearing the infamous sheet-burka that I had heard so much about.
Alice had brought a slave!
* * * *
Erroll and I approached slowly, creeping between the vines—our weapons out, our eyes flitting back and forth, searching for hidden Crazies—for a trap. About twenty yards away from Alice and her slave, we finally stopped.
Alice grinned. “I was wondering if you’d get it. Let me guess…Peyton.”
“You’re lucky she saw the bottle,” I told her, “because there was no way in hell that I would have figured it out.”
She shrugged. “Peyton’s been a wine snob since she was thirteen and discovered her father hated the stuff. The moment he banned her for touching it was the moment that Peyton had to know everything about it. So, I figured she’d get around to taking a look at the bottle. And if she didn’t—I’d just have tried something else.”
“Why the cloak and dagger? Why not simply come down to the Point and talk to me—or ask one of our sentries to get me—or write down a real message…like use your words, Alice.”
“Yeah, well,” she clicked her tongue against her teeth, thinking about this. “Guess I didn’t really trust that my message would get through, you know. Like there might be spies in your tribe—and if Brandon and the Foxes found out that I was contacting you—might not be too pretty for me, if you get what I mean. This way—not a whole lot of fallback if some douchebag saw that bottle; just another gift for Mother, right.”
It did make sense, I had to admit.
Erroll was still feeling suspicious, however. “We’ve got guys in the hills. They’re all around—so you’d better not try anything.”
Alice gave Erroll a little salute, then looked back at me, amused. “I so like them big and cute like that—especially if they can fight.”
“I thought you liked them with vaginas,” I said—in all honesty.
W
ith a sigh, Alice ran a hand over her shaved head. “Don’t let the butch-look fool you. Freaking ridiculous White Shirts are running a campaign to stick me in one of these now.” She touched the sheet of the slave standing next to her. “I figure the more I look like a guy, the better chance I have of staying free, you know.” Then, she sighed. “Guess this is one time Brady Bob actually comes in handy.”
“You could always just join us, you know,” I suggested. “Live down at the Point.”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I figure I’ve still got a couple of months before they ghost me. Until then, I’ve got a chance to help change this tribe around.”
“Think that can really happen?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “But I have to try, right?”
* * * *
It turned out that it was actually Sue under the sheet; the last time I had seen her was during the chaos of Jacob’s and my escape from the high school football field. We were running one way, she was heading the other.
“That was, like crazy,” sputtered Sue. “Like absolutely mental. I couldn’t find Rachel and there were boys suddenly everywhere. And then, like…all of a sudden, you guys were gone and we girls were being rounded up by Brandon and his psycho juvies.”
We were all sitting under the roof of one of the open-air tasting pavilions. There was a tray of cookies on the table in front of us, as well as, an opened bottle of wine.
“Didn’t you try and fight?” I asked. “When they caught you? You guys had weapons, too.”
“Definitely should have,” admitted Sue. “But everything was just so confusing all of a sudden. We didn’t know that it was just boys who were coming back. I guess we thought that the adults were gonna’ be there, too—someone in authority. Like even Tray and Orla told us it would be better if we put our weapons down. That we had to do what the guys said.” She hung her head, embarrassed. “So, we did.”
Alice looked frustrated. “What we should have done was put a bullet in all of them!”
