by Scott McCord
He’s right.
“They have grown strong, mighty in numbers, a great lake of soldiers rattling their weapons on the shores of Middle Ground. They are testing us now, measuring our resolve with the murder of Community citizens, daring us to oppose them, using the tenets of our religion and the fabric of our morality against us. They consume all, biding their time before consuming us as well.”
His flat, uninflected words spread like smoke through the crowd, and although he still speaks in a whisper, he’s not as difficult to hear now. Ayden reaches up and rests his hand on the podium.
“With the Slitter threat at hand, I am forced to make some troubling decisions…trading idealism for pragmatism. The news is being delivered by every priest today, but I want Group 14, the first victims of the coming days, to receive it from my lips direct.”
He takes another weak breath as hot blood courses through my face and pounds behind my eyes.
“We are diverting every resource to war, concerting our efforts to resolve the barbarian aggression. All pairings and all cullings are postponed. Service in the militia is open for every male above the age of nine. The Scorpion corps will recruit the most promising. Imposts are increased on all goods in support of the Barbarian Resolution. As with every Supreme before me, I do not want war, but we have been struck, and our enemy’s intentions are clear. If we don’t go for them, they will most certainly come for us.”
A chill settles on the crowd. Ayden gives it a moment to sink in. “Our torch shall not be extinguished. I will not allow it.” He drops his hand from the podium and turns away. The congregation erupts in support of all he has said.
“Ay-den, Ay-den, Ay-den!” the people chant, pumping their arms like billows on a black fire. I raise my hands and join them, spitting Ayden’s name, ready to play my role in the annihilation of my parents’ murderers. My temples burn and I’m swept away in the new resolve of Community. I shout and keep shouting with the rest of my former parish until Ayden descends the stairs, steps into his sedan, and is carried away in a tide of Scorpion guards. The priest takes center Chancel and raises his hand, attempting to quiet the crowd for service. I have no interest in his sermon. I turn to leave, bumping right into Tommy.
“What?” I snap, still caught up in the frenzy.
Tommy’s eyes widen, startled by a stranger he thought was his friend. His expression bothers me, so I soften my tone. “What do you want, Tommy?”
He looks at me like he still isn’t sure who I am. It irritates me.
“You need to know what I found,” he says, and walks away without waiting for me to respond. I’m too tired for this crap, but I follow him back toward Group 14 anyway, leaving my distracted Scorpion buddies behind. Like everyone else, they’re still reeling in Ayden’s declaration of war.
“All right, Tommy, that’s far enough,” I say as we round a second tent.
He turns and searches my face for a moment. “I’m sorry, Will,” he says.
“For what?”
“Your folks. They’re buried next to my mom, do you want to go see?”
I shake my head I don’t.
Tommy sighs with disappointment. “It’s strange Ayden knows so much about Slitter armies when you and I have never picked up a single sign.” He raises his eyes. “Don’t you think?”
“He knows what he’s doing,” I say flatly. “What did you want to tell me?”
Tommy purses his lips like he might keep it to himself, but doesn’t. “I caught the trail of the assholes who killed Mom. It was like following a one-legged blind man carrying a box of rocks. Even Gas could have tracked them.”
“And?”
“I’m pretty sure they weren’t Slitters.”
“How do you figure?”
“Have you ever seen a Slitter leave a trail Gas could follow?”
I shake my head. “They’re sneaky, Tommy, giving you a decoy to follow. How far did you get before it disappeared?”
“That’s the thing, it didn’t go cold.” Tommy raises his thumb and points back over his shoulder. “It ran that direction for a couple hundred yards, cattycorner, straight for Slitter territory. But then, whoever it was doubled back, taking a lot more care to cover their trail. They did a piss-poor job, but if three or four days had gone by before I got out there, I might not have seen it.” A frost comes over me. I don’t like what Tommy is saying, but I let him continue. “They came back to Community, traveling outside the perimeter where we turn out the milk goats sometimes. I tracked them until the trail finally ran back in on the far side of Group 8.”
“What are you saying, the murders were a distraction for something else?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Infiltrators then? Do you think we have spies?”
“No.” He shakes his head. “Worse.” My patience is growing thin and I don’t bother to hide it as Tommy continues. “The trail ran back in between Group 8 and Community Center. So I’m asking you, Will, who goes walking around Community Center at night without worrying about getting caught?”
“Whatever you have to say, spit it out. I don’t have time for circles.”
“I’ll give you a hint. What’s black, crimson, and asshole all over?”
“You’re wrong,” I snarl. “Why would you say that?”
“My mom was cut like a chicken. She deserves to have the right people pay.”
My jaw tightens, forcing me to hiss through clenched teeth. “They’ll pay with their heads...every stinking Slitter…if I have to find them and gut them myself. I swear.” Tommy’s expression is stone, so I raise a finger to his face to drive in my next point. “You’re my friend, but you’d better watch your mouth and be very, very careful about your bullshit accusations, or when it’s all said and done, you’ll pay too.”
20
Mim
A couple months…maybe a little more since I shot the guy at the Grand-Championship, and everything I thought I knew about the world toppled in on my head. During the day memories of my old life come in snatches, glimpses of the past, mostly of time with friends or dangerball, but at night, before exhaustion pulls me to sleep, I think of Will.
He’s a Scorpion now, for better or worse, but so is Gas. They must have been recruited for the dangerball team—some sweetheart deal way too good to refuse. If Ellie is letting Gas play for the black and crimson, it must be okay. There’s no way those boys are collecting imposts or pulling guard duty in the culling field. I puff and my lips curl into a smile. Those chuckleheads must be the worst Scorpions ever. I wonder how many times they’ve been caught in a get-up game with children out on the perimeter. Gas and Will won’t do much for the fearsome, unapproachable reputation of The Body’s elite guard. It’s weird—Will being with Scorpions in the woods—I doubt he’s training them for real—what a disaster—he knows better—he’s just going through the motions to keep his deal—maybe something for his parents…or…all of Group 14. It doesn’t matter, the world is much bigger and brighter than he knows. I’ll go back for him soon…and then Tommy…and then Gas and Ellie.
I roll to my side, trying to stop my mind and find the way to sleep. Tomorrow I go out with the last pilgrims. Jonathan said if I listen to Jack and do the basic conditioning without any back-talk, he’d let me go with him to New Hope. I’m ready…I’m more than ready. I learn fast and my body adapts easily, so in four weeks of training I’ve learned to do far more than simply survive a long walk Outside. I’m not some ordinary pilgrim.
Jack kept me within ten feet of the Edge for the first week. I passed out a lot, had excruciating headaches at night, and vomited more than I ate. I wasn’t getting it…not fast enough, and I was too embarrassed to do much more than sulk in my tent. Rosie checked on me a lot. But then—day eight.
Jack wakes me early as usual, walks me to the Edge, I step Outside, turn and face him.
He nods, smiles, and his voice slides into a melodic tone I’ve never heard before. It helps.
“It’s true the air is w
eak, but you’ve worked, and your body can pull enough oxygen out to sustain you…but that isn’t all…not by a long shot.” He smiles. “Reach out, Mim, lift your arms and feel with your fingertips.” I do as he says and close my eyes.
“There are streams, ever-changing laces of breathable air running through the Outside. Sometimes they’re woven tight, but mostly they’re like frayed cloth, moving and swaying in the breeze.”
I hold my breath, afraid to do anything more.
“Open your eyes, Mim, and turn to face the great Outside. Use your senses. You must know when you are in the fingers of good air and in which direction they reach if you ever wish to travel on your own. If you can’t learn this, you can only be led. Feel it, and when it’s there…breathe. See the breeze, touch the atmosphere, find the invisible, and hear it calling…”
His voice trails off leaving me without enough time to fully embrace his instructions. My lungs are about to explode, so I take a chance and hope for the best. I breathe.
When I wake up, Jack is smiling at me.
“What are you grinning at, polecat?” Jack’s eyes sparkle at my irritation. “You talk too much, Jack, you know that?”
“I didn’t say a thing, princess, not one single thing.” He rubs his chin, regards me a moment, stands, and offers me a hand up. I take it. “Come with me,” he says, softening his grip, but not letting go of my hand. “Stay close.”
My whole body is raw from training, but when he steps to the Edge, I go with him anyway.
“Navigating Outside is a knack most people don’t have, so there’s no shame in failing. It just means you don’t have the Calling.”
“There’s a name for it?”
He nods. “Conditioned bodies can deal with thin air, but if you step outside a vein or get caught in a ripple where the oxygen drops to zero, you’re finished. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, toes up, nose up.” Jack pauses like he’s waiting for a voice to whisper, okay, and when he hears what I don’t, we move out beyond the boundary of Brother Ark. He squeezes my hand. “You may have missed that, Mim, so you have to pay special attention, open up to everything there is until you see clearly. I can’t tell you how. All I can do is show you and hope you learn.” He smiles. “Okay, let’s take a walk on the Outside.”
I was up before Jack the whole next week, hurrying him through breakfast and his good-byes to Mary, so we could get on with my lessons, hoping every day would be the day the Calling came to me. I followed Jack, watching him, as he intuitively, almost casually, strolled through the fields beyond the Ark. Occasionally Jack would pause before a slight change in direction, but other than that, he moved without any apparent concern, walking methodically along, trying not to tax himself.
I stayed light-headed and there were times I took wrong turns and Jack had to carry me back, but I got better, and by the end of the second week those mistakes were mostly gone. I was acclimating like a frog to a pond, feeling the fabric of Outside like I was born there.
To Jack’s dismay and in spite of his threats to tell Jonathan, I decided to try running. I felt like I could, so I did. Jack squawked like an old woman, saying it was too dangerous, but when a vein of good air tapered off, I simply held my breath and hopped across to the next. Jack was astounded. I had the Calling stronger than anyone he had ever known, and it worried him and made him proud all at the same time.
While we were training, I never asked Jack about Mary or how he came to the Utugi, and he never told Johnathan I could do more than pick my way around Outside. I think Jack may be a little scared for me, so he hasn’t said a word about my Calling or how strong it is. I haven’t told either…it seems better that way.
Some people keep a secret without having one kept in return. Jack is one of those people. That may be why I’ve grown so fond of him…or maybe it’s because of all he’s taught me…or maybe because he pulls me back to the Ark whenever I flake out…or maybe it’s his stupid smile…or maybe…it’s everything.
I fall into shallow sleep. Hours pass before hushed voices outside my tent wake me.
“It will crush her if you don’t let her go,” Jack whispers.
“I’m not worried about hurting her feelings,” Jonathan hisses.
“Well I am,” Jack says.
There’s a pause. “She’s not ready to see. I don’t think she is totally separated from Community. She has ties…dangerous ties.”
“We’ve all had them. You most of all.”
“Yeah, and how long did Cassandra keep me out of the loop?”
“It’s not the same.”
Another pause.
“She’s very good,” Jack whispers, “maybe better than you. She wants to believe, but if we don’t let her see…well, that will be a terrible mistake.”
“Dammit Jack, we’ve already had to move Pilgrimage up because of her.”
“So?”
“She’s reckless.”
“She’s new.”
“We have people there, and I don’t have the island fully scouted yet.”
“She can help.”
Pause.
“Okay,” Johnathan relents, “but you keep an eye on her. She’s your responsibility.”
“Oh, I’m not going. I promised Ben and Jeremy I’d take them fishing.”
I imagine Jack’s smile when he says it and Johnathan’s scowl when he hears it. The conversation outside is over and the hushed voices are silent. I lie on my bedroll pretending to sleep.
“I’m not stupid,” Jack says softly. “I know you’re awake, princess, so come on if you’re coming, before your dad changes his mind.” Jack mutters something else under his breath and walks away. I dress, sheathe my knife, shoulder a quiver, grab my bow, and I’m out of the tent not far behind him.
Jack is sitting next to Mary, stoking a low fire, watching his work dance into light. I step over to warm my hands on the young flames and find a place to sit in the growing ring of giddy, hopeful people. Mary hoists a pot of mush to the heat, and Jack encourages the fire with a few more pieces of wood. The circle grows, and a happy nervousness swirls through every whispered conversation. I’m ready to bust with anticipation. Ben pushes in to sit, leaning against me. I put an arm around him to get comfortable. Jeremy slides in on the other side, squeezing his narrow butt down between me and the next lady over. She doesn’t complain. Jeremy puts his head on my thigh, and I rest my hand on his shoulder. It seems we’ve been here before, only it’s better this time…much better.
Red and purple fingers reach across the dawning sky, and small flecks of gold create temporary halos as first light works its way down the faces of each pilgrim.
Ferrymen have been taking groups across the Outside for weeks now, and the camp is all but deserted, leaving the loneliness of a job well done behind. This will be the final trip before the Utugi are reduced to the core—twenty-two…twenty-six, including Rosie, Ben, Jeremy and me. After that, if I understand correctly, we sit tight, wait for the Ark to push off, rescue all we can from the culling field, and prepare them for a brand-new life.
Light descends and mush bowls are passed around. Jeremy sits up to receive his. The crappy food is lukewarm, but I don’t mind, and no one else seems to either. Grace settles with the dew, and we all thank Mary for breakfast, telling her it’s really good.
As the morning continues to fade in and conversations grow less somber, I’m taken away by the goodness of it all. The Utugi are saving the world by saving its people. It’s so simple, it has to be right, and if God is really out there, I can’t imagine He’d want it any other way. I understand now why Johnathan and Cassandra have been such assholes. They’ve been protecting all of this…from me. It doesn’t matter anymore, I’m ready. I want to be a part. I’m dying to see where it ends, and how it begins all over again. When I do, I’ll find Will, tell him everything, and bring him here.
“What are you thinking about, Mim?” Jeremy yawns.
I reach over, stroke th
e back of his head once and smile. “An old friend,” I say.
21
Mim
Cassandra’s prayer and the ceremony at the Edge seem like they happened yesterday instead of thirteen miles ago. Thirty-two of us—twenty-four pilgrims, six capable men who take orders from Johnathan, Johnathan, and me—move across a lattice of starving air toward the unknown. Johnathan leads the way as his men assist those who stumble, encouraging them, and talking breathless people into remaining conscious. The sun beats hard, and a teardrop of sweat runs off the tip of my nose as I walk behind, watching the ferrymen do their work. The pilgrims struggle, having been conditioned quickly and only in the shallows. I wonder how many of them are strong enough to make it all the way. The timeline had to be moved up because I let Scorpions see Rosie at the berry bushes, so I’m sure Johnathan blames me for these people not being fully prepared. Anyone lost is my fault.
I move up beside one of the ferrymen. “How much farther?” I ask.
“Ahh, just a bit more. There’s a lot more ground behind us than there is ahead,” he says, cocking his head back and smiling before realizing it’s me. His expression sags. The ferryman forces a smile that doesn’t quite break the surface. He’s younger than the rest of Johnathan’s men. “Don’t worry, it’s like this no matter how conditioned we think they are. It’s always hard, but they’ll make it. Hope is a powerful thing.”
There’s a weariness in his eyes I don’t hear in his voice. I like him immediately. “I’m Mim,” I say.
“I know,” he answers.
We walk.
Johnathan adjusts his course and the caravan veers slightly left to keep on his path. I notice the change in atmosphere immediately. The air is slightly richer, but the improvement won’t be enough to keep these people going much longer. They walk without stepping, dragging along without the energy to lift their legs, slumped low like they’re melting into the earth. The melodic rhythm of feet cutting through grass, fills my brain. A whimper and the occasional soft words of encouragement from a ferryman are the only signs the pilgrims aren’t already dead.
