by Scott McCord
I spot Tommy back in the trees and signal him to stay put. He nods, slides an arrow from his quiver and nocks his bow. The squad follows his lead. They look formidable, and for the first time I feel safer with them than I do by myself.
In a brief argument of hand signals, I try to talk Starter out of attempting to flank whatever lies ahead in the brush. If it’s a monster, coming at it from all sides is a quick way for one of us to get killed. It’s much better to give a beast an easy escape. Starter doesn’t like it and breaks silence out of frustration.
“If it’s a Slitter, we have to get around him,” he whispers.
“If it’s a bear, we have to get away from him,” I hiss back. “Besides, it’s not a Slitter…not this far over Middle Ground.” I raise my finger to my lips and shake my head to make him stop talking. He rolls his eyes, silently scowling as he shuffles the options in his head.
He’s in command, he determines what we do, but our encounter with the bears makes him reconsider his initial instincts. Finally, Starter nods, deciding to take my advice instead of trying to surround something we can’t see. A high breeze shimmers the trees above.
I slide along the outer edge of the tangled mass of underbrush. Starter and Knox slide with me. We move like ghosts—quiet and patient—before finally reaching a place where the brush thins enough to peek through.
The other side isn’t really a meadow. It’s just a swath of grass dotted by blue and white flowers, bordered by a heavy stand of lush privet. The grip of my bow is slick in my sweaty hand. I strain to see and stay invisible at the same time. I swallow but make no sound.
A small buck steps into view, nipping off a mouthful of clover. He raises up, twitches, and drops his head for another bite. My shoulders sag in relief, and the uneasiness drains from my Scorpion companions. We’ve made a big deal over nothing.
If the troops had been traipsing along with their usual racket, the young deer would have abandoned his lunch long before we arrived. But as it is, he’s munching away, too interested in his meal to notice us watching from the bushes. His ear flutters, and he flicks his tail, swatting a fly we can’t see from here. Somehow that lightens my heart, and I smile. He’s handsome, and I know Gas and Tommy would love to see him, but the little buck will be long gone before the rest of the men get this far.
“An Ark deer,” I say keeping my voice low.
Starter says nothing as he watches the animal nibbling another flower. He raises a finger to Knox, who slides an arrow from his quiver and, without hesitating, drills the deer just under the jaw. It’s a helluva shot, sending the buck to its knees and over to its side. I can’t believe Knox killed an Ark animal! He’s not supposed to do that.
“Dress it double quick,” Starter says as he stands.
“No problem, Cap,” Knox answers, pulling his knife. He wades through the brush toward the deer as I rise.
“Are you allowed to do that?” I say.
Starter scowls. “How far to the Edge, Will?” he asks.
“Not far.”
“Good.” Starter looks up into the mid-morning sun. “It’s still early. If we get moving, we’ll have some well-earned venison before we head home.” I don’t respond. Tommy, Mim, and I used to eat Ark animals on overnight surveys, but Starter’s blatant disregard for the law isn’t something I expected. It’s disappointing and I can’t help that it shows.
“What?” Starter huffs.
“Nothing,” I say. “I’ll bring the men up.”
“No, take them to the Edge. I’ll wait on Knox.”
I do as I’m told, and in less than an hour the squad of Scorpions is reclining along the invisible veil marking the end of our world and the beginning of the unknown, where only abominations exist. I sit with Tommy and Gas, but we don’t say much. We stare Outside where a thin smattering of underbrush grows at the feet of dark trees that probably go on forever. The woods thicken oddly here, protected by a canopy fortress, illumed in shadows and dead sunlight. It’s a black place, a haunted place, and I shudder at the stillness.
“Okay, boys, look what I got for dinner.” Knox appears with the buck’s carcass on his shoulder and dumps it to the ground.
Starter is right behind him. “On your feet!” Everyone springs up. “Two fires, two spits, get ‘em going! We’re not staying overnight. A good meal, maybe a quick game of Goose, but we’re going home even if it’s in the dark, so the faster you move the more daylight you’ll have. Somebody help Knox with the meat. I want it quartered and cut down to cook fast. Now move!”
The men scatter to their chores while Tommy, Gas, and I sit back down. I lean against the stack of berry bags and rest my eyes. I don’t think I doze off. I hear everything happening around me—Starter laughing with his men, Gas and Tommy talking, wood being added to the fires—but time slips by even so, and before I know it, the aroma of roasted venison is interfering with my almost nap. It’s warm and the smell sets my stomach growling, but somewhere in the back of my mind I wonder if it’s a good idea to cook deer this close to the Edge. I yawn, wipe my eyes, and push to my feet. I pick up my bow and look around. I want to know where I’m going in case there’s trouble.
“Good afternoon, sleeping ugly, I was just coming to poke you,” Tommy says. He turns and waives Gas over. “Dinner smells good, doesn’t it?”
“It smells better than good,” Gas adds. “I’m going to get real grumpy if I don’t eat soon.” He purses his lips, glancing over at the men by the fire. “Why are they cooking the head? What’s that about?”
Tommy shrugs. “I don’t know, some kind of crazy Scorpion crap. What do you think, Will?”
“About what?”
“The overpowering aroma of meat, what else?”
“It’s yummy,” Gas says.
“It’s strong,” I add.
“A little too strong,” Tommy says.
I know what Tommy’s thinking, and he’s right. “Maybe we should take our weapons and move back a bit…at least until dinner is ready.”
“Should we say anything to your Scorpion buddies?”
I shake my head. “What good will it do?”
“Not even Thatcher?”
I shake my head again. “It’s like they’re doing it on purpose.”
“Doing what?” Gas asks.
Tommy looks at Gas without answering the question. “Go get your bow and your quiver. You, me, and Will are going to step away from camp awhile.”
Gas sighs. He doesn’t really want the answer to his next question. “What are they doing, besides cooking a deer and its head?”
“Do you really want to know?” I ask.
“No.”
“Okay, I’ll tell you. They’re attracting every Lopper for miles.”
“On purpose?”
I shrug. “Does it matter?”
“Hmm, in that case, I’ll just get my bow and step away from camp with you guys for a while.”
14
Will
I grab a sack of berries from the pile and sit down beside Gas and Tommy. We keep our distance from the rest of the group, giving ourselves a cushion of defense in case Starter’s roasting deer provokes a Lopper attack. I take a handful of fruit and set the bag where we can all reach it easily. I pop berries into my mouth one at a time as the rest of the Scorpions compete in an apache throwing contest. We’re asked to join, but we shake off the invitation, content to stay away from the commotion and thick smell of cooking meat.
“I dreamed of Ellie last night,” Gas mutters to no one in particular. “I miss her.” He leans over and takes a handful of berries. “She wanted four children—boy, girl, boy, girl.” He smirks. “That’s a lot.”
“She would have been a great mother,” Tommy says.
“In my dream we have five kids, and Ellie names them all Peanut.”
Tommy chuckles. “That sounds just like her…probably caused a lot of problems at the Gas 14 house.”
“Not at all.” Gas smiles. “Somehow, there wasn’t any confus
ion. We were connected…talking to each other with our minds...no, that’s not right, talking to each other with our hearts. I could feel their feelings, and they could feel mine. I never spoke to the kids out loud, but it didn’t matter, it was wonderful being with them. Ellie filled the tent with her warmth and, oh my gosh, love was all over…like sunshine on my skin. It was amazing. I didn’t want to wake up when she said goodbye. She always says goodbye when I dream about her.” Gas draws a deep breath. “I wonder if she’s happy with me now…being part of the black and crimson.”
“Maybe you should ask her next time.”
Gas’s lips quiver into a half-smile and his face lightens a shade at Tommy’s suggestion. He scratches his ear and nods. “Yeah, I’ll do that, thanks.”
“And while you’re at it, tell her I said hey.”
Gas turns his eyes to Tommy. “Absolutely.”
“And tell the Peanuts hey for me too.”
“Of course, every single one of them.”
“Okay, ladies, it’s time to eat. Officers first, but I’m not holding anybody up for you, so if you’re coming, you better come now,” Starter says, and walks off.
“That’s the dinner bell…shall we?” I say. We stand, brushing our hands against our pant legs. “Hey, let’s keep close, pay attention, and be ready to break back here if we have to, okay?”
“Good plan,” Tommy says as Gas nods.
I lay my hand on Gas’s shoulder. “Tell Ellie hi for me too.”
We step ahead of the men, cut a helping of venison from the spit, and make ourselves as comfortable as we can on the ground. Conversation dies in the wet sound of slurping grease and smacking lips. After we all take a second helping, there isn’t much left of the buck except bone and gristle. Scorpions stretch out and groan with full bellies. Several guys excuse themselves to squat behind a tree with colorful dialogue of how the deer ran right through them
“If they’re coming, I wish they’d come,” a reclining reg says.
“Not yet,” someone else replies, “I’m so full I can barely stand. I’d erp if I ran two steps right now.”
“We won’t see any today,” another Scorpion comments. “The smell of that meat has been carrying for miles. If something was out there, it’d be here by now.” He looks at me to explain. “We have better luck near an old building or a broken down house. Loppers love to hang in the ruins.”
“Loppers?” Tommy sits up.
“Yeah,” the Scorpion says, “the smell draws them right in.”
“Why do you—” Gas doesn’t finish before Starter interrupts.
“All right, girls, on your feet, get those scraps, the skewers and anything else that smells, tossed Outside. Nothing goes home. You know the deal. If I catch you with one bite stowed in your pouch or down your pants, you’re going straight in the hole when we get back. A world of hurt will befall any and every man attempting to smuggle illegal food into Community…so if you got it, you chuck it right now.”
“We going home, Cap?” someone asks.
“If we move now, we’ll be in Community before nightfall.” Starter looks at me, and I nod to confirm he’s correct.
“So don’t tie anything off for Goose?”
“No Goose. We’ve been here all day, but it doesn’t appear our playmates are interested. Sorry to disappoint. I know we all wanted to see the newbies play, but we’ll break in our sub-lieutenants another time.”
I have no idea what Starter is talking about, and he offers no explanation as we watch the Scorpions police the camp. No one is afraid of stepping over the Edge as they heave the remains of our dinner Outside. Even bloated with deer meat, the Scorpions work quickly, and we’re ready to depart before much time passes. The men shoulder their berry bags, and Starter motions for me to lead the way. It’s been a strange trip and I’m glad to be getting back. I tighten my quiver and grab my bow, but I don’t make it ten paces before someone hollers out. “Hey, Cap! Hey Cap! Here they come!”
I turn back to see better than thirty Loppers staggering through the trees toward our camp. My instinct is to run before they hit the Ark air and morph into crazed monsters, but no one else seems concerned—except Gas and Tommy. They both trot up from the rear to stand with me, while the rest of the men delight in the appearance of the low oxygen people. As exhausted as they are, the Scorpions are really enjoying this.
“What are we going to do, Cap?” Thatcher shouts.
“Well, we can’t ignore a herd of Loppers this close to the Ark,” Starter calls back.
“Can we play?”
Starter looks at me, rubbing his chin like he knows something I don’t. “One round only! Toe the line!” he barks.
“All right!”
“Hoorah!”
“Who’s got betting money?”
The Scorpions cheer, drop their equipment and sprint to the Edge. They jockey for position, forming a skirmish line, pushing at each other to get an arm’s length between them.
“Move over ass-wipe!”
They all complain at once until finally settling into formation. The Scorpions look like fence posts standing at the brink of nothing. If they sway, lean forward in the slightest, they’ll cross over to Outside, but nobody cares. It’s like they’re daring the world beyond to come within reach. The squad of Scorpions seems small to me…like tiny dogs nipping at something much larger than themselves. Sometimes the bite is too big. They’re on a dangerous line, especially as the first Loppers arrive to feed on lunch scraps twelve feet away.
“Gentlemen, shall we?” Starter waves his hand inviting us to join the anxious troops.
“I think I’ll watch from here,” Tommy says without taking his eyes off the congregating beasts.
“Uhhh,” Gas adds, “I’ll stay and guard Tommy.”
“Me too,” I rattle, hoping the nerves in my voice don’t show.
“Okay girls, we’re running shy on time today, but you’ll be on that line next go around. If you’re going to be a Scorpion, you have to play the games.” Starter’s lips drop into a disappointed frown as he moves to stand behind his men.
“I’m glad I’m not a Scorpion,” Tommy mutters. “These idiots are crazy.”
Gas gulps, and I let out a long sigh. Tommy is right, these idiots are crazy.
The Loppers continue to mass, piling in and crawling all over each other, trying to get a taste of the garbage we threw out. One of the beasts gets too close to the Edge. Knox steps out and shoves the Lopper away from the Ark. It stumbles back before joining its friends again in the slow frenzy for something to eat.
Even from where I’m standing, I smell B.O. and dung as the dreadful creatures continue to cluster a few steps away from the Scorpion line. There’s a scab among the Loppers—we call their offspring scabs. It’s a female, and if it was cleaned up and brushed out, you might mistake it for any other little girl in Community. My eyes follow the scab as it tries unsuccessfully for a morsel of food, and for the first time it strikes me as odd that the Loppers are covered in crude clothing. It’s nearly comical, like a pig in pants. Strange, an abomination should be modest…must be some latent instinct of generations past.
The men twitch as the Lopper herd continues to swell with new arrivals. There must be fifty now. Another beast strays close, and Figg steps out of line to knock it back. As long as the Loppers stay on their side of the Edge, they’re reasonably docile, but if even one of them pushes into the Ark, there will be a blood bath not many of us will survive.
“That’s a lot of Loppers,” Gas comments, as we watch from our small distance. “If they decide to come in all at once, I don’t think the guys will be able to stop them.”
“I don’t either,” I agree.
“What then?” Gas asks.
“Run,” Tommy says, “and don’t look back…do not look back.”
“Listen up!” Starter shouts. “We didn’t tie anything off, so they’re going to move around more than usual. Do not let them push in.”
Some men n
od and some hold up their thumbs, while others shove Loppers away from the Edge.
“We’re going to make this interesting. Winner keeps a bag of berries,” Starter announces.
“Great! All right! Yeah!” the men cheer in response.
“Are we taking ears, Cap?” one man calls.
“Are we taking ears? Are we taking ears? It takes one low-ass piece of shit to torture an animal for sport. I’d just as soon saw the tail off a dog. We’re not a bunch of masochists. What the hell kind of sick question is that?”
“When we Goose with Ven, Cap, we always—”
“I assume most of you dumbasses can count,” Starter interrupts, “so that’s how we keep score. Any man takes an ear and I take his. Understand?”
“Yes sir!” the men refrain. The occasional Scorpion with his knife already drawn, sheathes it, disappointed Starter isn’t allowing trophies.
“Thatch, you’re up! Go!” Starter shouts.
Thatcher takes a deep breath and breaks across the Edge, skip-limping into the heard. Time pours to nothing, and my face hardens to a stunned gape. I can’t even blink. Gas’s jaw drops like a stone and hangs in place. Only Tommy finds words.
“What the hell are they doing?” he whispers.
The Scorpions cheer Thatcher on as he hobbles out into the swelling herd. A few Loppers stray close, and a couple men step over the Edge to shove them back.
The beasts aren’t insistent about breaking through the skirmish line, although there are enough of them to do so. They barely object to being pushed, moving off compliantly until their circular path brings them around to be knocked away again. They hum like a nest of bees.
There are more scabs now, but they stay behind the adults, away from the soldiers’ reach. Weird. I spot the young female again. She isn’t as timid as the others her age, but she never gets close enough to provoke a Scorpion either…smart girl. She looks like a Becky.
“Run, Thatch, run! Hold your air, hold your air!” the men cheer and laugh while keeping the Loppers at bay.
“Damn, he’s fast for a crip, ain’t he?” someone shouts.
“Go! Go! Get a good one!” someone else yells.
