"Tara?" Finn tries to question me but I shush him with a finger to his lips and pull him behind a pile of baskets. A sliver of light pokes its way through some wooden slats on the wagon wall that have separated a bit and I kneel at the spot, peering through so I can watch what’s happening outside. I can see Mack and Riven. They’re standing casually, watching what appears to be two horses approach, but Mack's hand is hovering above the shooter hanging at his side. The setting sun provides too bright of a backdrop for me to pick out the features of the riders or even tell if it’s Army or not. Maybe they weren't fooled by us at all. Maybe they’ve been following us the whole time. My hand tightens around the knife in my boot. If it is Army, they ain't getting to me or Finn without a fight, not this time.
The two horses draw closer, and my fear turns to puzzlement 'cause they appear riderless. Wait, one ain't even a horse. It's a mule looks like. Pulling a tow cart with a solitary, shadowy figure sitting in the driver’s seat. Since when does the Army travel solo?
"Good evening, gentlemen," the driver calls out as he approaches, his hand raised in a gesture of friendliness. "So nice to finally catch up with you. Would you perchance have a little extra supper you'd be willing to share? Maybe even a bit of fine ale or whiskey hidden in that bountiful cargo you are transporting? It has been a very arduous and arid ride tracking you across this vast land, and I’m quite parched."
Even though I cain't see the face, that annoying way of talk could only belong to one person and my unease melts away.
"Tara, is that …?" and I nod in relief at Finn's question.
"Aye, it's Tater."
3
The Journey
The next three days pass in relative boredom, although it’s nice not having to travel in the crawlspace anymore cooped up next to Jax. It’s so much better out in the sun with the wind on my face. Tater's arrival with the tow cart had made that possible. While Finn and Cat rode in the back, I preferred to ride up front with Tater. Well, I guess that ain't quite right. I preferred to ride ahead as lookout, but since I’m denied that job by all my jackass companions, it falls on Jax to be the lookout. I hate that they’re all treating me like I should be wrapped in soft cotton and kept safe. But my arguing falls on deaf ears, so I’m designated to ride in the tow cart between the two big wagons and listen to Tater's jabbering for hours at a time. It ain't all bad. At least Tater's non-ending gibberish keeps my mind off of Lily's words about my ma and how she’d died saving me. No, I push that thought away during the day. It only comes out to haunt me at night while I’m trying to sleep.
I’d been taken aback at first by the half man’s ability to track us. Sometimes, he truly does surprise me. But I’m glad he did 'cause he’d provided answers for me.
He’d arrived at Sanctuary mere hours after we’d all left to find that it had indeed been searched by the Army. As much as Lily hated to admit it, her people had talked if they’d been able to track down Sanctuary that easily. But Tater eased my worries for Lily and Zoe's safety. They didn't find nuthin', no trace that we’d even been there. With not finding us and not linking us to Lily, the Army had no reason to arrest her. And since she was an important person, personal healer to the high-ranking army officials, they had let her be. I was relieved to hear that. Although she and her rebellion would have to lay low for a while, the Army may not have been able to link her to the New Blood, but I'm sure as hell they were gonna be watching her now.
Tater had been no fool. After hearing from Flip what was going down, he hightailed it out of Littlepass as soon as he could. I’m grateful that he had taken the time to at least get some supplies for us. We’d left in such a hurry that we never had a chance to take anything, and Tater had thought to provide me and Finn with hooded cloaks, useful for the cold nights out here in the outerlands. Finn's is way too big, and mine looks and smells like it had come from one of the ladies of the ill house. Probably did, but I ain't asking. I don't wanna know what the person before me had been doing while wearing this cloak. It’s decorated way too fancy for my liking too, beads and sparkly things surrounding the hood and all down the front, but Mack says it's a good thing. If he’s to pass me and Finn off as his visiting kin from the South to get into Skytown, we’re gonna have to look the part. Cat is gonna have to be snuck in through the wagon's crawlspace though. There ain't no way we’re gonna be able to explain her presence with us. And I'm sure there ain't no way in hell she or Finn will ever let us leave her outside of the city again, so bad idea or not, she’s going in with us.
"… so as my dear mother would have said--oh look, Jax is back." I look up in relief at Tater's words, never so happy to see Jax as his arrival interrupts the half man's long-winded story. Jax raises his left hand and extends his two fingers as he rides into view, a signal that all’s clear up ahead and it’s safe to camp for the evening. Mack and Riven made the decision not to travel after dark. The raiders and thieves in the area leave the caravans of Riven's Runners mostly alone since its well-known affiliation with the Prezedant is only asking for trouble. But after dark with no campfire to identify who we are, it’s easy for them to mistake the caravan for any other traveler and attack. And we’re told the Prezedant's tanks are a common sight the closer you get to Skytown, and we certainly don't want to stumble upon them in the dark. No, better safe than sorry.
They maneuver all the wagons into the same triangle formation like the past few evenings, leaving enough room in the center for us to make camp. I watch as Beanie and Talbert tether the horses to the wagons with enough slack so they can wander over to the grasses and feed. The tall grass spooks me some. I ain't used to seeing grass grow to such a height, and it just don't seem right. Add to that the amount of ruins we’d passed these past few days, it’s enough to give anyone night terrors.
Unlike the barren and empty sandlands, the lands between Littlepass and Skytown are filled with the ruins of settlers' junk and buildings. I asked Tater about the pockets of stuff that littered the landscape, and he said it’s 'cause after the Shift, the survivors had flocked to this side of the mountains. They thought it would be safer. The poisons in the air and water; however, had still done their damage. The people had all got sickly and died. But the stuff, well, that just stayed where it was left and rotted away.
It’s fascinating to see. Yesterday, we’d passed a huge pileup of twisted metal and rust, skeletons of moving "veacals." Things I’d only heard about in folklore, yet here it was in front of me. Must have been a good fifty or more of 'em. Oh, the brush and sands had tried to reclaim it over time, but the rusted husks were still recognizable. I had so badly wanted to stop and look at them, but except for me and Finn, the rest of 'em weren't the least bit interested. We passed on by with not even a scant sideways look. I could hear Finn's disappointed "Awwww, man" from the back of the cart, and I kinda wanted to whine along with him.
Tater said the travelers and traders called this metal mountain the graveyard marker, the halfway point between Littlepass and Skytown. A final resting place for all the settlers that had just up and died in their "veacals" trying to escape from their ravaged cities. The others who had passed through after 'em had simply just pushed 'em outta the way over time, and they had sat there ever since, rusting away slowly in the dry heat. Kinda sad when you think about it. All of 'em just pushed aside and forgotten. Now no more than a marker on the road to Skytown. Hope whoever they’d been in their lifetime, they were now all reunited with their kin in the afterlife. Grada always said every soul, whether good or bad, at least deserved that much.
Shading my eyes against the low sun, I look 'round at where they’ve chosen to camp tonight. Looks the same as the last three nights: flat open grasslands with nuthin' to break the monotony other than a few rolling hills and slabs of gray rock broken off from the "highway" we’re traveling on. Mack's word for these gray rocks had kinda made me chuckle when I first heard it. "Ass fault" he’d called it. I'm pretty sure that cain't be the right word for it, but I ain't about to tell h
im that.
Finn and Cat shoot by me all of a sudden, nearly knocking me offa my feet. Their pent-up energy from riding in the cart all day has them heading straight for the tall grasses, needing to let off some steam. I grin at 'em, knowing their little game of grass hide-and-seek would soon follow, and my warning of not to go too far would be ignored.
Jax's whistling reaches my ears, drawing my attention away from the two in the grass. His movements as he dismounts are graceful and unhurried, and he makes sure to reward the nag with a soft nose rub after he tethers her for the night. She snorts a little and nudges his shoulder in affection. He did seem to kinda grow on you, even the nag thought so. I watch as he takes off his hat and runs his hand through his hair, causing it to stick up at odd angles like usual. I ain't spoke to him much these past three days, not since our ride together in the crawlspace, but I’m still full of questions. I still cain't understand why he insisted on coming with me to Skytown. I know why he thinks he should go. For some reason, he seems to think helping me would make up for standing by and allowing the Army to destroy his little sister—a New Blood like me. But I already told him once before he don't owe me nuthin', and it certainly ain't gonna help Jenna by getting himself killed standing by me. But here he still is. I don't get it. As if he can feel my gaze on him, he looks up with those eyes and gives me that stupid little smile that makes my heart beat outta my chest. Instantly my cheeks heat up, and I drop my eyes and glance away. Shizen. What is wrong with me lately? Why did that jackass have such an effect on me? Thankfully, some yelling from the campsite seems to be more interesting at the moment than my flaming face, and I can feel his eyes move away.
"I told ya, the Mistress needs to be closer to the fire. Ya cain't put 'er 'ere; it's too far away from the warmth."
"But Talbert, it's the best spot it is."
"It's no good, I tell ya. Ya cain't put 'er there. Wot? No not there either, ya daft ass. It's too close to the 'orses. Wot if one of 'em takes a shite?" And a tug-of-war ensues between Beanie and Talbert with what looks to be my bedroll. Oh, for the love of gods. What are those two morons up to now?
"Give me that." I march over and yank my bedroll outta their hands, glaring at 'em both something fierce.
"How many times I gotta tell you I don't need you lookin' out for my every move. And I especially don't need your help placin' my bedroll."
They both look back at me with such wounded expressions that I cain't help but feel bad for yelling at 'em.
"We's only tryin' to look out fer ya well-bein', Mistress," Talbert says, his eyes dropping to the ground and his shoulders all hunched.
"Look," I say, rubbing the back of my neck in exasperation and trying hard not to roll my eyes. "I know you're just tryin' to help, but maybe … maybe you shouldn't try so much?"
I can tell by their faces they don't get it. I sigh and try again.
"I don't need help with my bedroll; I can do that for myself. We do; however, need help findin' firewood for the campfire. That could be your job this evenin' if you like. I mean, I would appreciate if you could help me with that?"
Beanie's head starts bobbing up and down, and Talbert smiles his black-tooth grimace at me. It takes all my willpower not to shudder in revulsion. Instead, I stretch my own lips in what I hope is some resemblance of a smile and watch in relief as they head off.
"This way, Beanie."
"But I think this way is better, Talbert—"
"Mistress needs firewood. Ya ain't gonna find no firewood that way, ya mule's arse."
May the gods have mercy, I think as I shake my head at their arguing again. We cain't get to Skytown fast enough. It don't help matters none when Jax ambles by with that crooked grin on his face and whispers loudly, "Missus Talbert, sure do have a nice ring to it."
I hurl at his back the new cuss word I’d learned from Mack just yesterday, but it only results in a ruckus of laughter from the others. What the hell? Why they all laughing at me?
"Glad y'all find it so funny," I growl, hands on my hips and staring ‘em down. "Since I've already provided such amusement for y'all, then I think I'm just gonna take first watch tonight and someone else can cook this evenin's meal." I try to stomp off in an indignant huff, but I stop short when I swear I hear one of 'em say, "Thank the gods for small miracles." I cain't quite pinpoint which one says it though, 'cause all of a sudden, they get real interested in setting up their own bedrolls and getting the fire pit ready, anything but look my way. Jackasses.
I climb on top of one of the wagons and sit cross-legged, gazing out over the horizon, my borrowed shooter lying by my side. The sun is setting now, bathing the grass and hills and "ass fault" in beautiful ribbons of reds and oranges. I like this part of the day best: evening watch. It allows me peace and quiet away from everybody else. Away from the strange looks of Riven's men as they watch me without thinking I notice. Away from the suffocating adoration of the two idiots. Away from Tater's incessant ramblings about his ma. Away from the confusion that just being around Jax causes in me. Up here, it’s just me and my own thoughts. It’s real nice.
I watch Finn skipping through the tall grass, arms stretched out on both sides, his hands skimming the tips of the blades and his face tipped up to the warm rays of the setting sun. I ain't quite sure what he's doing, but it brings a little smile to my lips. Even after all he has seen and been through, he can still be the little boy that he truly is and romp through the grasses like a fool. It makes my insides soften up a little and allows some of my earlier frustrations to melt away.
Cat must’ve had enough of playtime though 'cause I can see her now stretched out on her back by the other wagon in a warm patch of fading sunlight, four paws in the air and sound asleep. I hear the laughter and murmuring of the men around the campfire. Now that they’re settled for the evening, Tater's tin flask seems to be making its rounds. The half man's voice floats on the wind as the whiskey tin reaches him, and he raises it in a toast.
"May your beds soon be swimmin' with big-breasted women!" I snort in disgust at his words but ignore the rowdy braying of the men. I don't want them intruding on my quiet thoughts right now.
Turning my own face to the last remnants of the day, I bask in the sun's lingering warmth. Only a few more days and we’ll be in Skytown. Closer to Ben. Closer to the Prezedant. It thrills me and terrifies me all at the same time. Will we be able to find him? Will we be able to free him? I pull my flower outta my tunic and hold it in my hand, my only connection to my old life. So much has happened, so much has changed. I’ve changed. What will it mean if I do find him? Where will we go? What will we do? Will he even still wanna be around me once he finds out what I am? The questions swirl in my head, and I close my eyes for a bit, the weight of it all threatening to overwhelm me. One step at a time, Tara, I tell myself just like Grada used to say. Free Ben first, then worry about everything else after.
Sighing, I open my eyes to the quickly encroaching dusk. Time for Finn to come in outta the grass.
I sweep the field ‘til my gaze finds him. I open my mouth to yell, but his name falls short on my lips as I notice the slight movement behind him in the grass. It’s swaying to the side, but there ain't no wind to be blowing it. What the hell? The boy stops to investigate something, and the movement stops too. Is it Cat slinking through the grass, playing a game? No, I check and Cat is still where she was last time I looked. My eyes go back to Finn. He changes direction now, heads for the horses, and the waving grass starts heading that way, too. I squint a bit more into the waning sunlight. That's when I see it, and my gut drops with a sickening lurch. A long, black object rising up from the grasses and aiming straight for Finn. I ain't quite sure what it is, but I do know one thing; it’s targeting the boy.
"Finn," I yell as I jump to my feet and raise my shooter. "Get outta the grass now!"
I aim my shooter at the still unknown predator, but instead of heeding my words, Finn looks up at me with this stupefied expression. Shizen, boy, get outta the way, I
think frantically as I try to target the threat. I watch in horror as the swaying in the grass gets closer to him and then…. Finn is gone. Disappeared into the sea of brown.
"Finn!" I yell again. I don't recall jumping from the top of the wagon, but I hit the ground running, the others milling around me in confusion and blocking my way. I barrel through 'em, screaming at the top of my lungs, "Cat!" but like she can read my mind, she knows what I want. She's already leaping into the grasses, and I rush to keep up. I follow her through the tangled brush, knowing she’ll lead me straight to the boy and whatever it is that took him down.
I almost trip over her as I stumble outta the grass into a clearing on the other side, and my heart leaps into my throat at what I find. Cat don't make a sound, not even so much as a growl. I figure like me, she cain't quite make sense outta what we're looking at.
Two squat creatures hover over Finn's motionless body. They are a dull, gray-black with three legs sticking out on either side of 'em and two deadly-looking pinchers snapping in the front. Their long, shelled bodies seem to be in two parts and curl up at the end into a raised, bulbous tail that has a fierce-looking barb on the tip. In my own confused head, they kinda remind me somewhat of sand biters from back home, but these are so big, at least a full armspan long. I ain't ever seen a sand biter grow this big.
They stopped moving at our stumbling onto them, but almost like they dismiss us as no threat, they go back to what they were doing. One of 'em has hooked Finn's tunic with its claw, and it starts dragging him away again, bringing me outta my stupor. I raise my shooter and aim, but my fear has me shaking like a leaf in the wind, and I'm afraid to shoot least I hit the boy. Cat is circling 'em now, growling like a she-devil and frantic to get at Finn, but every time she tries to get close, they hold her off with their razor-sharp snaps.
New Bloods Boxset Page 33
