I nod at his story. “Aye, it pretty much happened that quick with us, too. Funny thing is, for the longest time I didn’t know if I even believed raiders to be real. Ain’t never seen them before. Tell you what though, now I know ‘em to be real, I know I sure as hell don’t wanna meet ‘em again anytime soon,” I say.
“Yeah, well I can certainly guarantee the raider’s daughter pretty much feels the same way about you,” he says, and I cain’t help but laugh along with his low chuckle. Are we actually having a civilized conversation? Weird.
“Why do you think that mutie helped us escape?” he says then, and I shrug my shoulders at him.
“Dunno.” I ain’t sure if telling him what I think is such a good idea but I say it anyways. “I think … I think maybe it was followin’ us. Followin’ me. I think I seen it before, back out in the sand lands when I left Rivercross. Though why it was helpin’ us I cain’t say. Maybe it just felt sorry for us. Maybe it recognized me as a fellow mutie ’cause that’s what you believe of me, right?”
Don’t know why I added that last part. We’d been talking all pleasant like, and I had to go and throw that up at him. Why’d I do that?
“It is what it is. Can’t change the facts,” he says, looking away from me like he don’t want to talk no more.
We both fall quiet then, our moment of camaraderie gone. Jax tosses a few pebbles into the brook, and the plopping sounds are loud in the darkness. I can tell there’s more he wants to say, but he don’t say it.
“Sky seems very nice,” I say finally just to break the silence. The uneasy quiet is getting to me.
“That she is,” he agrees.
“And pretty, too. Her hair is lovely. I ain’t ever seen hair that pretty,” I say. I know I’m rambling on now, but I cain’t think of what else to say.
“I suppose so,” he says.
“Is she … are you two …,” I trail off; I don’t know how to word it.
“She is my promised,” he says then. I ain’t sure what that means.
“Promised?”
“Aye. You know … promised. We’ll be wedded someday when we’re ready.”
“Wedded? Wait,” I say, starting to understand now, “your ma told me tonight was a betrothal celebration. Is this all for you and Sky?” He nods in response. “Shizen. Ain’t you both a bit young for that?” I say, shocked, and not sure why, but a little put out at what I’ve just learned.
He looks at me, puzzled. “No. We’ve been promised since we were babes. Isn’t Ben your promised?”
To hear him speak that name is like a punch to the gut. I wasn’t expecting it, and I certainly wasn’t aware he knew of it.
“How the hell do you know about Ben?” I say.
He shrugs and keeps tossing his pebbles. “When you were sick with the fever from your wound, you called out his name over and over again. It’s all you would say. Drove us crazy. So I asked Finn. He told me all about it. How the Prezedant’s Army took him and the other young folk, and how it was all you could think about was to get him back. I reckoned for you to care so much he must be your promised.”
I don’t know why, but his thinking that about Ben adds to my unexplainable irritation.
“Well, he ain’t. I ain’t got no promised. That’s just downright craziness. Ben is my friend, my kin. And I gotta get him back just because.”
I don’t come right out and say because it was my fault he was taken in the first place, but I ain’t gotta say it. It hangs in the air like a heavy weight between us.
“You know you don’t stand a chance of getting him back,” he says, finally making eye contact with me.
To hear him say those words aloud, it awakens all my own deep rooted fears. I don’t like it. “You best not say another word about it, Jax,” I warn, but he don’t give up.
“What you’re thinking about doing, it’s not going to work. Nobody gets away from the Prezedant.”
“This really ain’t none of your concern, Jax,” I warn again, but he still don’t heed me.
“You’re going to end up getting yourself killed, maybe Finn and Tater, too. Is that what you want?”
Now I’m angry. Why’s he gotta be saying stuff like that?
I snort at him, my voice harsh. “Why do you care what’s gonna happen to me? I’m just a stinkin’ New Blood, remember? A carrier of death just like Jenna. You shouldn’t give a damn what happens to me.”
I didn’t intend to say her name, to throw it in his face, but it just pops out of me and from the look in his eyes, I regret it immediately. I’d gone too far. The kinder, nicer Jax who had smiled at me earlier ain’t nowhere to be seen in the stone-cold glare I’m getting from him right now.
“I’m sorry … I shouldn’t have said—”
He cuts me off. “Ma told you about her?” He don’t give me a chance to answer. “Don’t matter. I’m only gonna tell you this once. You know nothing about Jenna—or me for that matter—so you have no right to talk about it.”
He gets to his feet as if to walk away, but I’m not done.
“Don’t be mad at your ma. She was only tryin’ to make me see reason. She knows what I am, what I’m capable of, and she don’t care. The same with Jenna. She don’t blame her ‘cause it wasn’t her fault. She couldn’t control what happened no more than you can control the sun settin’ every day. What happened to the villagers, to your pa, it wasn’t her fault.”
He whirls on me then, and the anger emanates from him in waves. His hard, blue eyes bore into mine.
“You’re right. It wasn’t her fault. It was mine. I knew what she was, what she was becoming, and I didn’t say anything. I had seen the things she was capable of doing. I knew, but I didn’t tell Ma or Pa. I should have said something, anything, and maybe we could have run. We could have hid out in the sand lands so nobody would have known. Nobody would have found us. But I didn’t. I stayed quiet, let it happen. Pa, Jenna, the villagers … they were all killed that day ‘cause I just didn’t want to admit it. I didn’t want to admit that my little sister was a mutie … a freak.”
I can tell he regrets his words right away ‘cause he closes his eyes and sighs, runs a hand through his dark hair. I don’t say nuthin’; I just watch as he struggles to get himself back under control. I want to tell him I understand how he feels. I understand ‘cause I carry that same kind of guilt around with me every day. But I don’t. I stay quiet. Finally, back in control, he looks at me straight on. The anger, the fire, is gone, and his voice is emotionless when he speaks again.
“So, I’m just going to come right out and say what I came here to say in the first place. Thank you for saving my life. As I’ve said, it’s a debt I can never repay. But you and Finn and Tater … you have to leave Gray Valley as soon as possible. Every moment you stay here, you are putting us all in danger, and I can’t … I won’t have anything happen to the people I love again because of some New Blood. Ma says you’re almost healed. Traveling should be no issue. So I want you all gone by the morning, before anyone else finds out what you are. There’s no place for you here.”
Whatever I was expecting him to say, it surely wasn’t this. Shocked and hurt, I watch his rigid back walk away from me as he disappears into the shadows. I want to yell after him the few choice words floating around in my head right now, but I don’t. I keep quiet. My hands clench at my sides, and I take my frustration out on the nearest object I can find: a rock about the size of a wild rabbit. I kick at it, wanting to release some of the hurt and betrayal I’m feeling inside, but all it does is send shooting pain up my leg and into my gut.
I don’t hold back with the cuss words this time. I let ‘em fly at the night sky.
Fine. Good. If that’s how he wants it, so be it. We’re wasting time here anyways in this stupid village. Ain’t no big deal. I want to leave anyway, so there. As a matter of fact, I cain’t wait to leave. What the hell am I doing here anyways in this stupid dress and dancing to that stupid music? I have important things to do. I have to find B
en and the young’uns. I don’t have time for this foolishness.
Mind made up, I head for Vi’s cabin. I’ve some things to do first though, like finding me some clothes. The least he could do is give me a pair of trousers in exchange for saving his life, the ungrateful bastard. And I have to let Finn and Tater know we’re leaving. Good riddance, too. The morning cain’t get here fast enough. And if I never ever see Jax or Gray Valley again as long as I live, it would still be too soon.
6
Iron Bones
I was real surprised at the lack of arguing I got from Finn and Tater at the news of our leaving. I had expected some resistance to my decision, but they had just simply nodded and agreed to what I said. Tater had even gone as far to say, “No worries, my dear; our imminent departure is understandable and totally predictable. It was truly fun while it lasted, but I never was one to delay when something had to be done. As my dear mother would say, ‘never let the grass grow under your feet.’”
I figured that meant he was okay with it. And as for Finn, well, I reckon I could have told him we were going to the moon and he just would have asked how long it was going to take us to get there. The only one who seemed to have any trouble with us leaving was Vi. She truly seemed upset with my telling her. She had questioned my decision. Didn’t I think it was too soon? Shouldn’t I take more time to heal completely? Did Jax have anything to do with my decision? As much as that mule turd didn’t deserve any loyalty from me, I didn’t give him up to his ma. She needed him, and to know that I had caused any strife between them was not okay by me. So I had told her the decision was mine and mine alone. She wasn’t happy with it, but she did accept it. And being a woman of her word, waiting for me in the morning was a clean pair of trousers and a tunic all fitted for me. She must have worked long into the night to finish it. I’m truly touched by her gesture and find myself wishing I could stay longer, to get to know this remarkable woman better. Quickly, I squash this thought. As much as I hate to admit it to myself, Jax was right. I would never be able to live with myself if any harm came to Vi or anybody in the village ‘cause of me. There truly was no place for me here. I ignore the little voice in my head questioning if there was any place for me anywhere and focus on getting dressed.
The sun is barely up yet, but Vi must have already been up for hours getting everything prepared. She has waiting for us slingbags filled with supplies, food, and water, all packed neatly onto Winnie and another horse, one I don’t recognize. I question the gifts and the horse. It’s too much. We cain’t take so much from them, but she assures me the trade made for it had been a good one. The villager she’d traded with had gladly taken Busher’s hardy beast in exchange for the older nag and the supplies. Hearing that lessens my concern some. She then hands me a hunting knife in a real leather sheath and all. It was her husband’s, she tells me, and to go ahead and take it. I feel real guilty, but since losing all our own stuff to the raiders, I know we’re going to need it. I secure it to my leg and try to thank her, but she ain’t done. Stepping in front of me, she folds a soft cloth over my head, covering my hair, and then loops it loosely ‘round my neck. A neck wrapper. Of all the gifts, this one is my undoing. It reminds me of Grada, and I can feel the tears filling up my eyes as her lips gently brush my forehead.
“Remember what I said, child. You have a great gift, do not waste it. And if you ever find yourself in need of a safe haven, we will always have shelter for you here.”
If only that were true, I think, but I know I’ll never see her again. I could never put her in any danger, this woman I barely know, but who has touched my heart so deeply. I hug her real tight and whisper a thank you in her ear. The words sound so inadequate for all she has done. I wish I could express to her my gratitude, but as usual, the words don’t come. I find I don’t have to say anything though, ‘cause it’s like she can see straight through me, right into my heart and sees what I’m feeling. She just nods at me and smiles. She says her goodbyes to Finn and Tater, and I half-listen but my eyes are seeking, looking for him. Jax ain’t nowhere to be seen though. He ain’t even got the decency to see us off. It don’t surprise me none, but I cain’t help but be a little hurt by it. We’d been through a lot in our short time together. I’d even saved his life, but obviously it wasn’t enough for him to even wish us a safe journey. Oh, well. It’s maybe a good thing he isn’t here. Cain’t rightly say if I would have just said goodbye or told him to go straight to Hell. Though the way I’m feeling right now, it probably would be the latter. Sky is welcome to the jackass.
Vi keeps waving as she watches us ride off, and I keep looking back ‘til she ain’t nuthin’ but a little speck in the distance. Finally, I cain’t see her no more, and I stop looking back. He never came, the little nagging voice in the back of my head keeps saying. He don’t care about any of us. I quell the hurt and push it away. It was done.
Gray Valley is way off Tater’s usual trading route, so the territory we find ourselves traveling in is unfamiliar to all of us. Vi had told us that Littlepass was likely no further than a couple weeks of riding, but she’d failed to mention anything of the strange lands we would have to pass through. Maybe she was truly unaware, or maybe she had simply forgotten, but after a day of riding through valleys and slopes, we’d come across a much unexpected, strange sort of track cut through the rocky hills.
The path is wide and level … and old. Settler-made to be sure. The parts of it not cracked and overgrown with weeds is a strange combination. Isn’t rock nor metal. Nuthin’ I could put a name to. Tater said he believed it had once been called a “highway,” and that these highways were how the settlers’ veacals had traveled around. He said that the highways went on for leagues and leagues. I find it amazing that the settlers had been able to build such things. They must have had a lot of time on their hands for sure. The track goes on into the horizon as far as the eye can see. I wonder how far it goes. Will it take us all the way to Littlepass? I reckon we’ll find out soon enough.
We keep riding; Tater’s occasional singing the only sound in the deserted stretch of open ground other than the clip clop of the animals’ hooves. We talk some, play a few riddle games to pass the time, but we avoid any mention of New Bloods or our run-in with the Army. It still ain’t something I’m willing to talk about.
Sometimes a wolfling or some other creature I cain’t put a name to picks up our scent, and they follow along with us on the outskirts, tracking us almost. But it only takes a warning growl from Cat or a shot from one of our iron shooters to scare them off. I’m real glad Tater had saved the shooters and had been smart enough to barter for some slugs for them. I’ve a feeling they’re going to be well-needed out here.
We stop only long enough to sleep, making camp in the sandy ditches that run along the sides of the “highway.” We don’t bother with making campfires. Besides the fact that there ain’t any kindlin’ to be found, I get the uneasy feeling it would just draw attention to us. Like we’d be making ourselves a target. I cain’t say why I feel this way; other than the critters, we ain’t seen nuthin’ else moving out here.
We take turns on watch throughout the night, Cat as our companion. Our shooters may scare off the critters during the day, but that don’t mean they won’t try and sneak up on us in the dark. Sometimes when I’m sitting and watching over the others, my blanket covering my shoulders to keep the night’s chill at bay, I turn my face into the wind and I swear I can all but smell the creatures that occupy this land. It’s a blended odor of dirty fur and fresh shite, and the clarity of it, of my awareness, spooks me. It says to me I’m changing. To what, I ain’t sure. But I don’t say nuthin’ to Tater and Finn. How can I explain it to them when I don’t understand myself?
Five days we’ve been traveling. Quiet and uneventful days. Days so full of boredom it’s almost an effort at times to keep from falling asleep as we ride and falling off our nags. But on this day, mid-noon of the sixth day, we pass over the top of a rise and see an astonishing sight.
It stands in the distance, a massive shape against the blue, mid-morning sky. I pull my nag up short, and Tater pulls abreast of me on Winnie. Finn, who has been resting quietly against my back, pokes his head ‘round me to see what has stopped our travel.
“What is that?” he whispers, but I don’t got an answer. I ain’t quite sure what it is. I can make out two sets of tall, metal towers, one set at each end of the structure. Between them hang a few gigantic ropes or wires … some sort of material joining them together though there are mainly just gaps and holes and empty air ‘cause most of it has already crumbled away. The broken, fallen pieces are piled high underneath the span in the remains of a dried-up riverbed. I understand then what it is—or more so what it had been at one time. It’s on a much bigger scale, but it’s the same kind of structure the old folks had built in Rivercross for crossing the river. It’s a bridge. But it hadn’t been built by anybody in my lifetime or dozens of lifetimes before mine. It’s a true settler’s relic and still standing. Amazing.
Tater is the first to speak. “This is not good.”
“What is it, Tater? Is it dangerous?” Finn says, showing more interest than he has in days.
“Course it ain’t, Finn,” I say. “It’s just an old bridge the settlers used for crossing the river that used to run here. We can just cross the dry riverbed, Tater. Ain’t no big deal.”
He raises one of his shaggy brows at me. “It’s not the bridge, dear girl, that has me worried. It’s what’s on the other side.”
For the first time, I see what Tater is seeing. Off in the distance on the horizon are the rusted, iron skeletons of sky towers. The dead remains of a settler’s city. Just like in the old folk tales.
New Bloods Boxset Page 17
