by Scott McCord
The two guards fidget uncomfortably in the wake of our conversation. Rosie stays silent.
“We’re down here because we have to leave, but these people need your father to take them across. I don’t know how well conditioned they are anymore, and I’m not ready to lose a single one of them. They’ll need their faith in Jonathan if they’re going to make it.”
“We don’t have time.”
“Why? The Body never moves quickly on anything. It will be days before they put together a scouting party, and days after that to organize an attack force. We have time.”
I shake my head. “No, we don’t.”
“Why? Explain it to me.”
“It’s personal…” I hesitate to find the words.
“There’s no time for personal, Mim,” Cassandra says.
“No, you don’t understand. Community may move slow, but there is at least one Scorpion who won’t. He thinks we…” I pause “…he believes I killed his parents.”
“That would be Will. The one who shot Jack,” Rosie adds.
“If he knows where we are, he could be here before dawn. He’s already coming. Will was Jonathan’s best pupil, and there will be trained men with him.” I look up. The sky doesn’t seem as dark as it was before. “I could cut him off and try to talk to him. We were friends for a long time.”
“No,” Rosie objects.
“Rosie, this is not for you to decide,” Cassandra snaps.
“Yes it is,” Rosie counters. “Jack told me if anything ever happened to him, I was to stay close to Mim. He said her Calling was the strongest he’d ever seen, and she was the only one who could protect me if things went bad. Jack said not to tell anybody…not even you. He thought you might take advantage of Mim, or be afraid of her if you knew what she can do.”
“Is that so?” Cassandra sneers, but Rosie doesn’t respond. She’s told what she promised not to, and I’m astonished by what she’s said. Cassandra scratches her brow. The sky has gone from black to dark blue.
“You did make the trip back all by yourself, so I know you’re capable, but you don’t have the demeanor to ferry these people. They don’t trust you.” Cassandra glances up. “But it seems I’m out of time, and if I have to choose the way to die, I’d rather go down hopeful than be slaughtered like a penned goat.” She turns to her guards. “Wake everyone,” she says, and then mutters to herself, “so I can talk them into believing they’re safe with the daughter of Jonathan.”
Rosie and I wait for Cassandra to walk off before following her on exhausted legs. It’s taken everything I have to get to Community and back. The crossing won’t be easy. Rosie says something, but I don’t hear. I’m too worried about what Will is doing right now.
40
Will
The woods are only pretending to sleep. The gray of first light is descending through the trees, and the night sky is fading from black to a darker shade of blue. The corpse I made yesterday is on the other side of these rocks, and I’m already noticing the trail he left getting here. It won’t take long to find the Slitter camp now.
When we got to the bluff last night, I climbed, leaving Ven’s Scorpions below. They haven’t stirred in hours. I could lose them easily, but why would I do that…because of what Tommy said about Figg? Figg was an ass, and I don’t trust Tommy anyway. He’d say anything to split me from the Scorpions. I step to the edge and stare down at the sleeping men. If I run into Mim again, I’ll need their bows.
“Rise and shine, ladies, there’s not enough beauty rest in the world to cure what you got,” I call. Moans and groans waft up on the early morning air. “This isn’t holiday, and this ain’t your momma waking you easy,” I bark. “When I say rise and shine, gentlemen, I mean get your asses up right now!”
“Yes sir,” the men respond in near unison as they snap to their feet.
I regard the men from above, and Tommy’s words come around to haunt me again. I don’t believe what he said about Ven sending Figg along to kill him, but it still has me doubting.
“Come up one at a time, and don’t let the dead guy at the top scare you. If you fall and break something, you’re carrying your own self home.”
One after the other, the men start to climb. I stand away from the edge, string an arrow and wait for the first to arrive. He struggles in the dim light, but finally crests the top and reaches down to dust himself off. I step toward him and draw my bow. He drops his, and turns his hands palms up to show he isn’t holding another weapon. The man is a grisly, well-seasoned Scorpion who isn’t afraid of being under my arrow.
“Whoa boss, what are you doing?”
“Why are you here?” I growl.
“Recon, I thought…following orders.”
“Whose orders?”
“High Command.”
“You spoke with Ven?”
“No, Xavier did before rounding us up. We’re supposed to watch your back while you track down Slitters.”
I relax my bow. “Yes, that’s exactly what you’re supposed to do.”
The next man up isn’t Xavier, and he tells the same story about his mission and where he got his orders. I step to the side after relaxing my bow again. “X,” I call down the bank.
“Yeah boss,” comes his immediate response.
“Pull drag.”
“Sure boss,” he says, confirming my orders to climb last.
The next three Scorpions arrive one after the other, only to be put through the same quick interrogation as the men before. Not one of them actually spoke to Ven, and Xavier told them all the mission was nothing more than running wing for a Scorpion scout.
“Okay X,” I say to myself, “tell me you’re my man.” I lean over the edge and call down. “X, stay put.”
I turn to look over the five men Ven sent with me. These are hard-bitten, veteran Scorpions who’ve spent plenty of time in the kill squads. They’re used to hating orders and simmer with a general disdain for officers. Any one of their scarred faces would cause long, sleepless nights for a child unfortunate enough to see them. This gang of leathery Scorpions is truly a fist full of nightmare. Do I trust them? —No. Can I handle them? —As long as I leave Xavier behind. So I do.
“Let’s move,” I snap.
“What about X?” one of the uglier Scorpions asks.
“He has his orders, and you have yours. Let’s go.” I push past the band of Scorpions to survey the woods while the men stand idly by, looking at each other, wondering why Xavier isn’t coming too. I don’t give them a chance to think about it long. I break into a trot, and the Scorpions follow.
Dawn is peeking over the edge of the world now, and the gray is giving way to bright streams of yellow. Shadows are waning and the Slitters may as well have painted rode signs leading to their camp. Mim and her friends weren’t careful, never expecting to be tracked this deep in Slitter territory. I could follow them on a dead run, but I stay patient, allowing the men behind me to keep up. If there’s trouble, I’ll need them.
§
The sun showers the earth with increasing zeal, and I get an uneasy feeling the light is no longer an ally. The night works against me and the day doesn’t keep secrets. Only the gray times are friendly, so I slow down and signal the patrol to stay quiet. If we’re found out now, I doubt any of us will make it back. Still, we push forward—slowly, methodically, and carefully, we push forward…until it seems the sweat rolling off my nose is moving faster than we are.
There is a break in the trees ahead, but I’m not stupid enough to go straight in. Slitters are clever. This seems too easy. I hold up a fist, and the men come to a crouching stop behind me. I peer through the brush, looking for anything to tip me off, but I see nothing. Not a soul is stirring and that worries me.
“What kind of trap is this, Mim?” I mutter to myself.
With a quick flourish of hand signals, I give the order for one man to stay, while I take the other four around the clearing under the cover of the woods. Every thirty yards or so, I drop
another man off, positioning him to watch for sentries as I move along with the remaining Scorpions. Caution takes time. I station the final man and continue making my way around to the opposite side of the clearing, taking care to stay hidden in the underbrush. My men have orders to hang back, while I move in for a better look.
I’m patient and I’m quiet, nothing more than a breeze made invisible by the forest. I ease closer. A bead of sweat rolls under my jaw. The quiet is unsettling. Keeping down, I push in.
Just beyond the underbrush and low-hanging branches, skeletons of abandoned tents stand silently in the open. There’s no movement and no sentries. I’m hesitant as my mind races with possibilities, always coming up wary of a trap. I inch up and step forward for a better look.
Black circles of old fires, trodden grass, tent frames, and bald spots on the ground, indicate an outpost of more than a hundred men. They left in a hurry. Valuable weaving looms and a single spinning wheel sit among other articles discarded in the hasty move. What could have forced the Slitters off like this? Certainly not fear of six questionable Scorpions. I fade from the bushes into the abandoned camp, caring very little about the looms and other domestic tools. A quick survey indicates the Slitters weren’t too hurried to take their weapons…and that’s what I worry about.
I give a sharp whistle, and my men emerge from the trees. They’re cautious at first, uncomfortable in a foreign camp, but when they realize we’re alone, they immediately start rummaging through everything the Slitters left behind. One Scorpion snatches up the spinning wheel, carrying it under his arm as he toes through a pile of cookware.
I slide to the perimeter of the clearing, walking the tree-line, searching for some clue of where the Slitters went. There are indications of old comings and goings everywhere, but nothing fresh…nothing the evacuation of a horde of warriors would leave. It’s like they disappeared. I continue my circuit, careful to overlook nothing.
“Where did you go?” I mutter. “Which way did you take them?”
A squabble breaks out between two of my Scorpions over something they’ve found. A brief tug-of-war, and the bigger man wins a wooden box full of nothing much. He dumps the contents to the ground and not seeing anything he wants, steps over the pile to look for something else. These knuckleheads need to cut the crap and go stand guard, but I’m not ready to piss them off, so I don’t give the order. I bite my tongue and try not to let their idiotic fussing interfere with my job. I circle as my men scavenge like ring-tails over table scraps.
“Where did you go?” I repeat to myself.
The bright sun hangs low, casting long shadows that are beginning to shorten as the day climbs up from the horizon. Dew glimmers, the world is fresh, and my senses come alive. I don’t hear the bickering Scorpions anymore. They’ve been distilled from my mind.
“Hey boss, what are you doing? A blind man can see there ain’t nobody here. You’re missing out on some good stuff,” one of the Scorpions calls. I ignore him.
I open up, look, and finally see. Tracks heading toward the southern Edge—a couple dozen people…maybe. It’s not the main body, but it’s the only lead I’ve come across. I crouch down to decipher what I’ve found. They’re moving slow, heavy with supplies, and making no effort to conceal their direction. They’re close.
“Over here,” I call. My men look up from armloads of derelict goods destined for girlfriends and the black-market. “Move,” I snap. The Scorpions glare at one another suspiciously, not wanting to be the first to set his booty to the ground. “I’ll burn the whole damn lot if you men don’t fall in right now!”
They’re reluctant, but my threat is enough to get them going. The Scorpions dump their items into separate piles and take a quick inventory. They dally so no one is left behind long enough to swipe something from another man’s stash before joining me as a group.
“The Slitters went this way,” I say when I have their attention. “They’ll have rear patrols watching their backs, so be careful. We’re recon only, so don’t engage unless you are compromised. If a Slitter spots you, put him down quick and quiet. Do not jeopardize this mission.”
“How many you figure, boss?” one of the Scorpions asks.
“Forty…fifty maybe.” I inflate estimates of the enemy to keep the men on their toes. “High Command is looking for intel on the main Slitter force, so we’ll follow these assholes until we get what we need. If we’re spotted and things go south in a bad way…put an arrow or a knife in every Slitter you see. A Scorpion is as good as twelve Slitters, so we have them outnumbered and they don’t even know it.”
“Yeah,” the men snarl and pat each other on the back, delighting in the prospect of things going bad and getting the chance to fight.
“Hey boss, X said the bridges were attacked by thirty men. Do you think these are the same shit-birds?”
“I’m not sure…I’ll know when I see them.”
“I lost a buddy in the attack last night.”
“Me too,” I say.
A vision of Gas crawls through my brain. My knife in his back is flush to the hilt, and the nurse with wet, red hands, says she can’t take it out. I grit my teeth, absorbing the rage made so much worse by Mim’s betrayal. Gas is lying on the ground close to me, struggling with dying words…saying his final good-byes and trying to tell me what I already know. It was Mim. My blood boils, making my skin hot to the touch.
“I know we’re supposed to follow these guys, boss, but if it turns out they’re the ones that killed my buddy—”
“What?”
“Well, I really liked my buddy.”
“And?”
“I don’t like the idea of those stinkin’ Slitters getting away with it.” The other Scorpions mumble in agreement. “We could be out here a long time following these murdering scumbags around the woods.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“Wouldn’t it be better to go ahead and knock ‘em off? If you say they’re the right ones, I mean.”
I regard the man briefly. The scar on his grisly face and his milky eye make him difficult to read. I’m not sure if he wants to avenge his friend, or if he just feels like killing somebody.
“Yes,” I say, “it would be better.”
The Scorpions grin wide, nodding their heads, delighted with the small change in plans.
“Thanks, boss,” Milky Eye says.
I try to contain myself, but I’m sure the darkness shows in my eyes. I want to kill somebody too…for Gas.
41
Mim
Everyone wants to wait for Dad, but Cassandra doesn’t give them that option. She tells them plain and without debate, we must go.
“We are fortunate to have Jonathan’s daughter to take us to New Hope. She’s been there and has returned for us. Jonathan would only send his most trusted guide for such a task. The Calling in her is remarkable.”
Cassandra continues to spin unfortunate events as if they were part of some grand destiny, but she’s tired, off her game, and the people know bullshit in the dark when they hear it. One man starts to ask a question, but Cassandra glares him down.
“You know what to do, now go do it,” she snaps and walks off. A low murmur ripples through the crowd, with most of the quiet voices blaming her for this whole affair.
“Chop, chop,” one of Cassandra’s guards barks, attempting to uproot dawdling people who are trying to understand why we’re leaving ahead of schedule.
Fear descends like chilly air, creating a strange, deadly lethargy among the Utugi, making them believe if they drag their heels long enough, something will change. Maybe they can stay, move back into the Ark, and resume their old lives instead of trusting an unreliable girl to guide them over an empty expanse where death is anything but timid. Men and women mumble, taking time they don’t have to gather their things. Rosie scoots off to help Mary, but when the gray air of first light arrives, no one is ready to leave.
I thought Slitters were different, but these people are pathet
ic—nothing more than chickens waiting to have their necks wrung. Terrible urgency arrives with the pink and blue at the far edge of the sky, making me angry with the reluctant sheep I have to herd over the Outside. Yet, even with the impending sunrise, the Utugi float about like ghosts, accomplishing nothing. It’s infuriating.
I step up to the closest guard. “Where’s Cassandra?”
He shrugs his shoulders.
“Go find her, and bring her here…right here,” I say, pointing to the ground.
The guard hesitates.
“Do what you’re told,” I snap…and he does.
Frustrated, I turn back to an audience of people who have stopped their fruitless milling around to watch me with the guard. Blood flows hot through my body, warming my face and drying my lips. I take a breath, but the morning air doesn’t cool me down.
“I don’t know what you think is going to happen,” I say to the crowd, “but when that sun comes up, you have about an hour left to live. Johnathan is not coming for you. Waiting for him is an excuse. I’ve got news, the trip over is hard no matter who takes you. You think you can stay here with your heads up your asses and it’s all going to be okay, but it isn’t. Scorpions are coming.
“Why? Why are they coming? Why are they coming now, after all this time?” one man asks.
“Because Slitters attacked their bridges and killed their men last night.”
“But we didn’t do that,” the man protests.
“Doesn’t matter,” I say, looking at the frightened, angry faces made clear by the rising sun. “Scowl all you want, but you’re going to die, and it’s your own damn fault. You didn’t believe Cassandra, you don’t trust me now, but worst of all, I waited for you, and you wasted my time. So now I’m done. Rosie! Rosie, where are you?”
“I’m here, Mim,” she calls pushing through the crowd.
“Get your blow gun and your knife—that’s all you’ll need—and meet me at the Edge. We’re leaving.”
“What about Mary?”
“Mary?” I call. She raises an arm so I can see her behind the other men and women. “I think Jack would want you to come with me. Will you? We have to go right now.”
