Following the Strandline

by Linda L Zern

  She searched for Roy Terry among the workers and didn’t see him. Okay, not her problem now. She just needed her stuff. She needed home. If only she could get back and find them there. Impatience ate at her to be away and gone from this place of damaged women and isolated men.

  She reached out and snatched at the shirtsleeve of a trim, tidy girl who’d been busy running errands for the men on gate duty.

  “I was promised the return of my gear. They took my stuff when we came in. I need it back.”

  She looked at Tess’s hand on her sleeve, stepped back, tugging free. “I know who you are. I can’t go in the armory, but I’ll—”

  A shout from the wall drowned the girl out. The lookout pointed and yelled, “Out of the east. Moving fast.”

  More shouts joined those of the guard’s. Men and Amazons ran to the wall. Someone screamed at the men on the gate to keep working. There was panic about whatever was coming; it drew Tess to the base of the wall along with the rest.

  Britt appeared at Tess’s elbow. “I think maybe it’s too late for you.”

  “More mysteries? What are you talking about? What’s happening?”

  Britt nodded toward the rope ladder that dangled down the side of the wall and pointed. Tess didn’t wait; she scrambled up. The men ignored her when she reached the top of the wall. She glanced back at Britt, heading back to the building.

  Smoke poured and billowed along the horizon. The air smelled of coming death. It had been so dry for so long, even with the storm. There was too much fuel. The breeze kicked at the dry dirt at her feet. It made her curls bounce and tangle, the wind blowing from the east.

  “I have to get out of here. I have to get home.”

  The man next to her glanced at Tess. “Where’s home?”

  Tess pointed, “Out there.”

  He shook his head, “Not anymore, or not for long.” Beside them, one side of the gate banged into place. The wall shook under their feet. Her vision blurred at the edges. The wildfire was a monster coming to destroy them all. She staggered. The man reached out to steady her.

  Behind her, Tess heard the crazy sound of a mule hee-hawing and not just any mule. Goliath needed her and she needed him. They had to get home before there wasn’t anything to go home to.

  She climbed down and headed toward the herky-jerky noise of a mule complaining, which came again and again. Tess knew that sound. A woman whose sweat-stained, black bandana held her hair out of her face stared at Tess, eyes narrowed.

  She took off, dodging around a girl who shoved her tomahawk and weapons at her. Black Bandana started chasing Tess, but she was big, and she was slow. Someone on the wall shouted down at them. She thought she heard someone curse her name. She kept going.

  They’d managed to smooth over the pot holes, move the derelict cars, making the parking lot a heck of a lot easier to navigate than the last time she’d run across it. Of course, it was harder to dodge and hide without all the wrecks. She pushed harder when two more Amazons tried to outflank her.

  “Keep it up,” Tess yelled and ran. “Keep bawling, Goliath. I’m coming.” She cut around the corner of the Sears store, now the hearth and heart of the Marketplace. “I’m coming.”

  The corral ran along the line of the wall on the left side of the huge triangle-shaped complex: animal pens, paddocks, cages, and Goliath. There was no mistaking the big, earless, tailless mule. He stood out in a motley collection of donkeys, goats, and cattle, a lone mutilated survivor. Having his ears and tail cut off and then having a dead kid tied to his side had not mellowed him at all. He kicked and snapped at a harassed man wearing filthy camo, who was waving a palm frond in Goliath’s face. He jumped back when the animal snaked out his neck to chomp at him with giant, yellow teeth.

  Tess darted straight to Goliath’s side.

  “Mister, he eats guys like you all day long. Goliath, back up, back.” Tess threw her hands in the air, palms forward. The mule spun in a happy circle at the sound of her voice.

  El’s two warrior women were on her before he finished his first circle.

  They grabbed Tess’s arms, but she’d had enough. He was her mule, however he’d come to be here. She donkey kicked the woman behind her and the brawl was on. The man with the palm frond stepped back against the wooden pen to avoid the wrestling women. His mistake. Goliath chomped his ear. Blood spewed. The man screamed.

  “Oh crap!” The Amazon closest to Tess swiped at a splatter of blood on her face.

  The other woman pushed Tess into the wooden rails of Goliath’s pen. The mule let go of the man’s ear to hang his head over Tess’s shoulder. The woman backed away so fast she went down on her butt in the dirt in front of Tess. Goliath’s breath misted against the side of her face as he loomed over Tess like an avenging angel.

  Britt arrived, harassed. “Aren’t you supposed to be gone? I thought I’d given them the okay,” she said, staying a healthy distance from the grouchy mule. Turning to the others, she pointed to the bleeding man, “Get him to the men’s court and get yourselves cleaned up.”

  Tess watched as the Amazon in front of Britt swiped at her face. Blood streaked over the jagged mark on her cheek. It was starting to look like war paint.

  “Stop,” Britt commanded. “You’re making it worse. Go! Get cleaned up.”

  Nodding, they walked away. War Paint shot Tess a viscous look.

  “What are you doing back here, Tess? I sent your crap out to you. You are supposed to be gone.”

  “My mule. I’m taking him back. How’d he even get here?”

  Britt shrugged in that dismissive way of hers, studying Tess’s face. “Last night. One of the patrols found him wandering near the high school. That’s all I know.”

  “I’m taking him.”

  “Don’t think so. Once these animals come through the gates, they’re slated for those cook fires. Lot of mouths to feed now. Can’t breed a mule to make more mules.”

  “Yeah. No. That’s not going to happen. And where are my horses?”

  “Sorry. No horses. Besides, looks like big trouble along the Saint John’s: last report that fire had jumped the river—north of here. It’s coming.” Britt’s shoulders slumped.

  “I know the fire is coming. Give me the mule, and I’ll get out of your hair faster.”

  Goliath lifted his head and snorted.

  “El doesn’t want you to leave,” Britt continued, “and I don’t get it. But I told her, ‘If Tess’s going to help her people, she’d better go now.’”

  “Then you and I are in agreement.” Tess turned to the paddock, picked up a ratty hunk of rope, twisting it end over end to form a halter. Good enough to get home. She slipped the rails down and started to lead the big mule out.

  Britt snarled, “Didn’t you hear me? I said, ‘You’re not taking that beast.’ Don’t press me on this. If you want to go, go! I don’t need this. I don’t need you. It’s already been a pisser of a day. I had to tell that friend of yours that his mother’s dead. He’s upset he didn’t get to say goodbye.” Britt rolled her eyes.

  The light slanted across Britt’s face, clouds casting shadows. Tess’s heart ached when Britt suddenly looked so much like her brother. Tess reached out to touch the older girl, but Britt jumped back and away from the gesture like one of the animals penned behind them. Tess let her hand drop.

  “Why? Why didn’t Sammy get to say goodbye to her?”

  “Forget it,” Britt said and shrugged, stamping away. “You wouldn’t understand.”

  Goliath nuzzled Tess’s hair. “I’m taking my mule.”

  “Yeah. You know what?” Britt spun on her heel, dismissing Tess with a pointed finger. “Take him and go. He looks old and stringy and too tough to eat anyway. Tell them I said you could take the mule when you get to the gate.”

  CHAPTER 20

  At the half-finished front gate, Goliath stamped when Tess reached for the hair of his forelock. The men swore and strained raising the second panel. She led the mule through the still open
gap. The moat ringed the growing wall except at the ramp. She turned and studied the workers on the wall and caught the flash of a waving arm; Roy Terry on top of the wall hauling buckets of mud. She didn’t wave back. Let El worry about the man from the coast.

  Tess felt for another hunk of rope she kept in the left front pocket of her vest. Nothing. It was empty. She patted another front pocket; there were lumps and bumps where they should be. The weight was right. She unzipped a side pocket, pulled out a chunk of asphalt. They’d ransacked her gear. She reached for her tomahawk. It felt right through the rabbit skin of the bag, but there was no time to check. Yanking the pull cord from the bottom of the vest, she ran it through the mule’s mouth.

  “Yeah, Buddy, like I said. Let’s get out of here.”

  She grabbed for a hunk of mane and swung onto the mule’s back, bending low over his neck.

  Goliath was ready and started off with a happy, bouncy walk. She headed him toward home and pushed him into a gangly canter. Tess kept to the tree line along the trail. Why make it easier for thieves to finish her off? Tree limbs reached out from the overgrown brush to rake her off the animal’s back. Goliath weaved his way through a labyrinth of obstacles: fallen tree trunks, stripped vehicles covered in grapevine, chunks of buckled asphalt. He didn’t slow until he hit the edge of the old downtown. He settled into a jarring trot, his hooves clip-clopping over the pitted road.

  From here, she couldn’t see the line of smoke that had advertised the advance of the fire. There was time; surely the big river would stop it so she could get home before it trapped everyone at the S-Line. She could. Tess drummed Goliath’s sides with her heels.

  Goliath stopped in the middle of the main street, rock still. His head came up, sides heaving. She dug her heels into his ribs. He snorted, refused to budge.

  “No. No. I don’t have time for this. I don’t. Seriously, this is going to get you made into stew, Goliath.”

  She banged her heels into his side, again. He took a step back. Over her head, twigs and leaves raked through her hair—scrub oaks growing in the middle of the street. She reached up to rip a branch free. A big oak growing out of the gutted general store arched close above her.

  “I am going to beat you to death.” Her jaw tightened. Goliath jerked wildly away from the body that flew at Tess from overhead, knocking her to the ground. The body on top of hers smelled of dirt and sweat. Tess bucked up against hands that pinned her to the ground. She couldn’t breathe. She flinched away from Goliath as he stamped the ground next to her head.

  “Stop. Stop.” A man’s voice insisted. “You’ve got to listen to me. I’m coming with you. You’re leaving, and I’m coming with you. Stop struggling. Tessla Lane, stop, please.”

  Panic had made her blind, just this side of deaf. Something about that voice registered.

  “Sammy? Sam Holt? What are you trying to do?”

  “You’re getting out of here. And I’m coming with you.”

  Tess lay on top of something that hurt her hip, a branch, maybe. She concentrated on getting air back into her lungs, tried to understand what he was telling her, to hear above the pounding in her chest.

  “She’s dead.”

  And then she knew who he meant. Hadn’t Britt told her the same thing? His mother—dead.

  “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  “Last week,” he said. His voice dipped and cracked, growing desperate. “My mom died last week, and they never told me. They let me think she was still alive. Kept me working.”

  There was more than sadness in his voice. There was confusion.

  “Sammy, that’s awful.”

  “Take me with you.” It was a plea.

  The noises, the secret sounds of the tiny animals in the thick underbrush, scurried and whispered around them, quiet conversations from hidden places.

  She bucked against his weight on her. When had he gotten so tough?

  “Ooof! Get off me. I don’t have time for this. Grab that mule, you idiot.”

  He grunted, rolled, stood up, reached down, and pulled her to her feet.

  Goliath snorted, stomped, and pawed the ground.

  “Whoa. Goliath, whoa! Sammy, be still,” she said, “or he’s going to bolt or stomp you or both.” She reached out when the mule gave her a curious sniff. “Come here and grab his rope.

  The heat of Sammy’s body blasted her when he stood close. He’d been running hard. Goliath sidestepped away from the stranger.

  “Hey, now.” She rubbed her hand over the big animal’s eyes. “It’s just Sammy. He’s a friend,” she said. The mule snorted—jittery. “He hasn’t had good experiences with strangers. Here. Come here and rub under Goliath’s chin. He likes that.” They stood shoulder to shoulder in the oppressive humidity. Over the Confederate jasmine and spice of leaf mold, she smelled it.

  Blood. It was the bright, copper stink of fresh blood. Goliath danced farther into the underbrush. Instead of reaching for the spooked mule, Tess turned to Sammy Holt. Her fingers slicked down his bicep. Blood dripped to his wrist.

  “Oh, Sammy, what did you do?”

  Tess reached for the boy’s arm. He stepped back, his chin jutting forward. “I didn’t hurt anyone. They shot at me when I followed you.”

  He pulled up the sleeve of his shirt. A gash across the meat of his upper arm oozed. “Just grazed me. You think they’d be better shots.”

  Tess ripped at the hem of her shirt. “Be still. You can’t go around dripping blood. You’ll attract the dogs or the coyotes.”

  He rolled his eyes at Tess. She smiled and tied the strip around his arm, tight enough to make him flinch.

  “What’s your plan?” she asked.

  “I just needed to get out of there. I don’t know where those witches even buried her. They didn’t bother to tell me.”

  She gave him a quick pat on the shoulder. It made him flinch. “Sorry. But how would you not know? It’s not that big a place.”

  “Oh, there’s plenty about that place that’s kept under wraps. Plenty.” He hesitated and rubbed at the drying blood on his arm. “I’m afraid.”

  She waited.

  “I’m afraid they put her in the wall, during the night. That’s what the others were saying. That’s where they put the dead ones.”

  She gasped. There were a couple of reasons why that didn’t sound feasible, but now was hardly the time to talk about it.

  “I get it, but I can’t talk about it now. We have to go. Britt said the fire’s jumped the river. Are you good to keep up? I can’t wait. It’ll be quicker to cut through Oviedo behind the school and through the Black Hammock. Let’s go.”

  CHAPTER 21

  The afternoon sun blasted through the overhang of grapevine-draped pines around the shell of the old high school when they found the girl. She lay lumped on the steps of the gym where weeds grew in the growing cracks and crevices.

  She looked like a rag doll abandoned by an evil child. It was Golda. Thin to the point of skeletal, there was a raspy tearing sound every time she exhaled. Her hair was a mat of filth and snarls, and Tess could see lice eggs along her hairline. She’d not had an easy time of it, living wild. At some point, she’d been cut or torn. An open wound on her thigh dripped pus.

  The sun bathed the dying girl in front of Tess in a fierce, bright whiteness—baptism by light.

  Here was Jamie’s would-be killer, this pathetic, mad creature. It didn’t matter. Mother Nature had leveled the playing field.

  “Do you know her?” Sammy held Goliath by the rope that Tess had wrapped around the mule’s neck.

  “No. Not really.”

  A gust of wind from the coast teased at Golda’s hair, sending a stray curl, blond under the dirt, drifting onto her cheek. The girl wore one of Gwen’s butcher aprons around her neck, as a kind of cape. Here was Gwen’s thief.

  Her shirt barely covered her. She had ringworm scabs on her ankles. The black hole of her empty mouth gaped open. Tess couldn’t imagine what crime this sad, frai
l child could have committed to earn the punishment of having her tongue cut out by Marco Fortix, but that had happened a long, long time ago.

  Golda was another story that would never be told, another empty diary.

  Trying to feel some righteous anger, Tess closed her eyes and worked to dredge up the sight of Jamie’s bone-white face, blood gushing from his chest. Nothing. She felt nothing but pity. Only that.

  Feeling pity was stupid, pointless. But what if this was Ally or ZeeZee left to die under an indifferent sky? What if Blane was out there somewhere, under a hot sun? And Parrish? What she did next she could hardly explain to herself.

  She reached down to wrap the apron more tightly around Golda’s ribs. “Ahhh, Golda.”

  “I thought you didn’t know her.”

  “Sammy,” she started and shook her head. She looked up and saw worry and suspicion cloud his face. “Sammy, I don’t know her, except that she’s caused my family grief.” They stood in silence while Goliath stomped his legs, trying to shake off the black flies that wandered from the corners of the girl’s eyes to investigate the big animal.

  “But I can’t leave her here. She’s somebody’s kid, or she was. I’m taking her back—”

  “Back?” He shivered away from Tess, suddenly understanding.

  He sounded stumped by her decision. “You’re going back? Don’t be stupid. I can’t go. I can’t go back there. Why? Why would you do this if she’s been a problem for you?”

  She shrugged off his question. She had no answers for him.

  “I’ll need the mule. I can’t carry her.”

  The sky shifted and flared. Clouds flew across the blue.

  “Why would you do this? She’s dead. You know she is, and she isn’t going to be able to sit on the mule.” He was right. There would be no coming back from what was wrong with the girl on the ground. Tess shook her head and knelt in the dirt next to the kid, because that’s all she was—a broken girl-child driven to madness by the savages that made the rules now, and Jamie was alive. Maybe it would be different if he’d died. Maybe it would be easier to walk away.