Wilders

by Brenda Cooper

  Lou leaned forward as if she planned to press her point, but then she stood and got water. When she came back, she asked, “Perimeter security systems? Do we at least have those?”

  “We do.”

  Bartholomew and Lou stared at each other for a long moment, the faintest nods showing mutual agreement to back down.

  Lou shifted her attention to Jersey. “Are you ready?”

  “Sure.” That was it. No one else in the room seemed to need more information. Coryn glanced at Blessing, trying to extract an unspoken promise that he’d fill her in later, but he looked away.

  Great.

  Lou asked, “Are you staying the night?”

  To Coryn’s relief Milan and Bartholomew said no, although Jersey stated that she’d be glad of the warm fire. Nevertheless, no one left for a while. Bartholomew and Milan both had flutes with them, and Lou produced a guitar from a closet in the house. She glanced at Coryn, who shook her head; she had lost her flute when she lost her pack. Matchiko brought in spoons, and Paula sat opposite Lou and started drumming on a wood table, which sounded satisfyingly hollow.

  Paula used a steady, fast drumbeat to start them off, and everyone else joined in, the whole musical thing a jazz-like improvisation. Then Lou called for a conservation song Coryn had never heard before. Bartholomew offered a hacking song from the old days of Anonymous. Lou called on Jersey, who sang a high-noted and incredible version of a song about parking lots that she claimed was an early protest song. Without her wristlet, Coryn couldn’t look up the name of the original singer. It didn’t really matter. Jersey’s voice was incredibly high and sweet. Blessing and Day sang two duets so polished they must have sung them in front of audiences before.

  The singing didn’t die down until past midnight, when Lou clapped her hands and said, “Stop now. We’ve got to sleep some.”

  Bartholomew and Milan packed up somewhat noisily. Just as they started for the door, Coryn stood up and intercepted them. She did her very best to stay calm and look Bartholomew in the eye. “I’d like my wristlet back. You put it in your pocket.”

  He smiled, his breath smelling like old beer. He whispered, “I gave it to your sister.”

  Coryn blinked after him, not sure what to say. He smiled again, the smile slightly creepy, and pulled the door shut behind him and Milan.

  Lou let out a long sigh of relief. “You can have the couch,” she told Coryn. “Paula will stay with you, and the rest of us will sleep in the barn with the horses. There’s not enough beds here anyway.”

  Coryn choked back a snippy comment about her wristlet, even more disturbed because now they could have a meeting without her or Paula, and there really wasn’t any way for her to prevent it. So she smiled as widely as she could, and simply said, “Thank you.”

  When everyone except Paula had left for the barn, she realized she needed to move to stay awake. There was so much to think about. Well, there was still a mess in the kitchen. She got up and started in on it, which prompted Paula to join her.

  As she stacked dirty plates, Coryn asked, “What do you think is going on?”

  Paula raised an eyebrow. “Regarding?”

  “Well, first of all, right now.”

  “They’re all talking as they get ready for bed.” Paula started running the water, dipping the tips of her fingers into it to test the temperature, which she could read precisely. “I doubt they are talking about you, but I suspect they are saying things they don’t want you to hear.”

  “I’m shocked.” She went to the table and finished gathering the glasses and cups. “But why? Is it that secret?”

  “They don’t trust you.”

  “I was afraid you’d say that.” It hurt as much as she had expected it to, making her chest feel full. She set the dishes into the sink more loudly than she’d planned, her cheeks hot. She never had understood why she could feel embarrassed in front of a robot. “Do you know why? Because I’m from the city? Because they don’t trust anyone?”

  “Your timing appears to be uncannily convenient to something big going on. Blessing is on your side, Lou is silent, and the others are split.”

  “Even Day?” She started washing, building a pile of clean plates and little tipi of forks.

  “Day is closer to Blessing than anyone else, and he’ll do whatever Blessing asks of him, of course. But he thinks the timing is suspicious as well.” Paula rummaged through doors until she found a towel. “Just as they get ready to act on long-term plans, Lou’s little sister shows up with a robot and a fancy wrist machine. It is kind of hard to see it as coincidence.”

  Coryn rinsed in silence, handing Paula plate after plate, fork after fork. She didn’t need to ask Paula how she knew—the robot was fabulous at reading body language and microexpressions and often acted bemused that Coryn didn’t do it nearly as well as she did.

  The door banged open, and Lou came in. “Hey—” She noticed the dishwashing. “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “Someone had to,” Coryn replied.

  “Paula could have done it.”

  “Paula’s not my personal slave,” Coryn replied.

  Lou stood there with her mouth gaping.

  “And while I’m at it,” Coryn said, “I’d like my wristlet. It might be handy if I get lost. I’d have a way to reach you.”

  Lou’s face paled. She stammered, “Not now.”

  “Do you have it with you?”

  “Look.” Lou headed for the refrigerator. “I just came in to grab a few beers.” She hesitated, cocked her head. “You can have one if you want.”

  Coryn sighed. “I don’t drink. And I’d like my wristlet.”

  Lou separated her feet a little and leaned toward Coryn. “And who would you call?”

  “You. If I get in trouble.”

  “Who do you call in the city?”

  “No one. I never made friends at the orphanage. Call them homework buddies on a good night.”

  Lou’s chin twitched as she clenched her teeth.

  “Really,” Coryn said.

  “You don’t need to call me tonight. I’m right outside.”

  A cold certainty grew in Coryn’s chest. She let it grow silently, watching Lou stand still and stare at her as if staring alone might make her suddenly compliant. But if she was going to do anything about it, she couldn’t tell Lou what she worried about. “Promise you’ll give it to me tomorrow?”

  “I promise.” Lou’s face softened a little at the win. “Go to sleep. Paula can finish the dishes. We’ll be riding all the way back tomorrow.”

  “Ouch.” She smiled at Lou though, using her best trust-me look. “I am tired.”

  Lou lifted the four beer bottles she had in a salute and walked back outside. The night had grown foggy, and wisps of it crept in through the door during the brief moment when it was open, so cold that Coryn rubbed her hands together to warm them.

  She went back to the kitchen and took up washing dishes again.

  “I can do this,” Paula said.

  “I know.”

  “It doesn’t matter to me,” Paula said. “It’s not as if I sleep.”

  “It matters to me.”

  They finished the kitchen quietly, and when they were done Coryn ignored the urge to sweep the floor and made up a small bed on the couch.

  She didn’t, however, climb into bed or get undressed.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Coryn hunched outside under big open tack room’s large square window. The night wind drew goose bumps onto her arms. Light spilled out from the barn, so she stayed low and listened. She couldn’t make out most individual words, so she crept carefully around the building, looking for a better window. On the far side, a door led to the two rows of horse stalls.

  She tugged lightly. It swung out three inches. Unlocked.

  She tried to think. None of the stalls were empty. River had been stabled near the front. He knew her. Would he let her share his stall?

  Could she even get into the barn quietl
y?

  Maybe if she just walked in like she belonged, so if she got caught she could make up something she’d come to tell Lou about? After all, they hadn’t forbidden her from coming over here. Not directly.

  What?

  She could tell her about all the bicyclists. There had been a lot. Too many to just be all out from the city, or at least she could pretend she thought that.

  If she didn’t get caught, she could slide into River’s stall and see if she could hear better from there. It would also be warmer.

  To her relief, the door didn’t creak as it opened. She swallowed and stepped in, closing it behind her. It creaked then, but no one leaped up or even stopped talking. There was a bend between the stalls and the tack room. Unless someone was coming down to check on the horses, there was no reason for anyone to catch her.

  Her steps sounded loud in her ears.

  She passed Mouse and Blessing’s big gray, Shadow, and opened the door of River’s stall. On the far side, he raised his head and whickered softly.

  She should have brought a carrot.

  He nuzzled at her as she shut the door. The voices were easier to make out here than they had been from beneath the window, although they were still muffled. She sat as still as she could, listening.

  Snippets of sentences . . . Seacouver and Portland and ecobots, Bartholo­­mew and news. Eventually the voices separated into a clearer conversation.

  Blessing: “—gotten to her, and why?”

  Lou: “No one did. She’s clean. I know my sister.”

  She hadn’t really expected Lou to defend her. It warmed her.

  A higher voice, probably Matchiko: “I’m running diagnostics. We’ll know what she knows soon.”

  On her wristlet?

  Lou again: “Is there news?”

  Shuska. The big native-looking woman with the long brown hair and the small brown eyes like dark half-moons: “Portland’s Listeners have almost all been captured or disappeared, and the city noticed.”

  Someone—maybe Day, maybe Daryl: “Should we be worried? I never heard about hurting Listeners as part of the plan.”

  Coryn felt overwhelmed with relief.

  Blessing: “Who would hurt Listeners? I have Listener friends—they’re mostly harmless.”

  Shuska. “I’m trying to find out. It’s hard.”

  What could they find on her wristlet? Pretty much nothing. Years and years of recorded time with Paula, schoolwork she hadn’t gotten around to erasing yet, and the messages between her and Liselle.

  Nothing about Julianna.

  Pictures of Bartholomew, but she hadn’t sent those anywhere.

  The stall door jerked open. She looked up, into Shuska’s eyes gazing directly at her, dark and big like the woman herself. Eyes the size of coins. She looked meaner that Coryn remembered. “Come on.”

  There was only the one door to the stall, and Shuska occupied the whole thing. Coryn smiled and stood up, brushing hay and dust off of her jeans. “Sure. Just visiting River.”

  The horse ignored her.

  Shuska pulled her out of the stall and into the main room, in the middle of six pairs of eyes. “Look what I found listening to us.”

  Bedrolls had been laid out on the floor in rows on the other side of the barn, and for now people sat on hay bales holding half-empty beers. A few LED lanterns shed pale light upward, washing everyone’s faces to an ill color and making large shadows dance on the walls behind them.

  Lou looked perturbed, her mouth thin in her thin face, her skin whitish in the odd light. Blessing’s eyes were round, Day’s flat. Matchiko looked pleased, or maybe vindicated would be a better word. Daryl showed no emotion at all.

  Shuska carried a scratched up wooden stool to the middle of the room. “Sit here.”

  Coryn sat, her pulse racing with a combination of anger and shame at being caught.

  Lou’s look turned to frustrated fury as she watched, and Blessing’s to confusion.

  Matchiko stared at Coryn from her perch on a bale of hay. “Good timing. I just got my diagnostic back on your wristlet data.”

  Coryn took a deep breath. “I didn’t give you permission.”

  “This isn’t the city. Spies have no rights.”

  Who did they think she was spying for? No point in asking. Probably the city. Lou stepped over to Coryn’s side, clapped her on the back, faced the others. “She’s not a spy. I keep telling you that.”

  Matchiko looked like she felt sorry for Lou. She drew a square in the air and touched a button on her shirt; a screenful of information appeared in the air in front of her.

  No one seemed surprised by the blatant display of technology.

  “And?” Anger and fear were fighting for points inside of her body; she rooted for anger.

  Matchiko’s fingers swiped the air, batting the photos around. “Well, you keep a lot of crap.”

  “Who doesn’t?”

  “You sent messages back and forth to some pretty well-known Listeners.”

  “She told me about them,” Lou said.

  “Did she tell you she was a spy for them?”

  Lou fell quiet and looked at Coryn.

  “They were nice. They asked me to count ecobots for them. Since the ecobots worked for them, it didn’t seem like there was any harm in it.”

  “You just did whatever they wanted?” Daryl asked. He looked genuinely puzzled at that, as if only an idiot would ever do what a Listener asked her.

  “Yes. But I didn’t do it for long, and I didn’t know better. They gave me a ride in trade for that, and it seemed like a fair deal. Look. You’ll see I only sent a few days’ worth of messages.”

  She remembered how Blessing had kissed her when she asked him to say hello to Lucien and Liselle. She’d thought it was because Blessing knew them. She looked at him, thoughtful, but he was looking at the pictures, clearly focusing on the images she’d chosen to send.

  She didn’t say anything. She didn’t know if she was right, and she didn’t know if the Listeners were good or bad anymore, just that they weren’t on the same side as Lou.

  Blessing extended his hands in a relax gesture. “It doesn’t look like she sent anything that mattered.”

  She knew what the last two pictures would be though. Bartholomew and the other hackers walking toward her.

  Was Blessing taking her side because he was on it—he liked the Listeners? Or because he liked her? Or both?

  Maybe she wasn’t on her sister’s side at all. She swallowed that thought. Of course she and Lou were on the same side. They had to be.

  Shuska glanced at Matchiko. “Maybe that’s why the Listeners are in trouble.” She frowned at Coryn. “Are there more people spying for them? I mean, it wasn’t just you spying, was it?”

  “How would I know?” Coryn countered. “Look, I just came out here to find Lou. That’s all. I met people. Some helped me; I helped them back. If they hadn’t helped me, I probably wouldn’t have gotten this far. They saved me from a thief who wanted to steal my robot. You saved me from the last people who tried to steal her.”

  “And what are these?” Matchiko asked, drawing attention to her screen.

  “What?”

  The pictures of the schematics she’d taken in the caravan flashed up.

  “I found a book in the Listener’s caravan. I thought it might be interesting, so I took pictures of the pages.”

  “Stop scrolling!” Shuska leaned in and peered closely at the image. “Another.”

  Matchiko advanced the page.

  Shuska took a step closer. “Another.”

  “Another.”

  She stepped back. “Do you have the whole book?”

  “I think so. I was in a hurry. I might have missed a page. Do you know what it is?”

  “Don’t you?” Shuska asked.

  Coryn shook her head. “I have no idea.”

  “It’s schematics for the most current version of the ecobots. Bartholomew would kill for this.”

  Cor
yn swallowed hard and stood up, stiff. “I think maybe he already did. Paula looked through the Listeners’ caravan after they were killed, and the books were gone. There were more.”

  A quiet fell over the barn as if this news had gotten people thinking pretty hard. Finally Lou asked, “So you think Bartholomew killed the Listeners you made friends with?”

  “One of his women had Liselle’s shoes on. I know that much. They were blue.” Lou gave her a skeptical look. She frowned back. “A very particular shade of blue. Trust me, I know.”

  Silence fell again, Shuska and Matchiko watched her closely. She felt like any movement or anything she said might be misinterpreted.

  Lou moved next to Coryn and broke the silence. “Is there more news?”

  “Hang on,” Matchiko said. “Let me finish looking through this.”

  Lou frowned at her. “Only if it means you’ll leave my sister alone. She doesn’t mean us any harm.”

  Matchiko sighed. “You’re too trusting.”

  Lou didn’t bother to answer.

  Matchiko kept staring at the data feed as if it was going to spit out a great big scarlet letter. Lou held her breath, certain she’d find the pictures of Bartholomew and his group.

  Something drew Matchiko’s attention away from the display and to her own wrist. A wide grin spread across her face; Lou checked her wrist and Shuska did the same, all three women grinning and then standing. Lou called out loudly, “It came. We got the call!”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Lou stood up on the stool Coryn had been sitting on and stared out at her crew. “All right. You all know what this means. Pack up and get some sleep. We’ll ride out as soon as it’s light.” Shuska was already picking up empty beer bottles. Daryl helped her. Day watched everyone. Matchiko watched Lou, her face tight with worry. She pointed a thumb at Coryn. “Is she going with us?”

  “Yes.”

  “And the dog?”

  “And the robot. I can’t leave them.”

  Matchiko looked she’d eaten a lemon. “Your choice.”

  Not for the first time, Coryn wondered at the relationship between Matchiko and Lou. It seemed half best friend and half bitter lover, with a dash of rivalry thrown in.