by Ann Aguirre
“If you had any idea how much I want to hold you—”
“I’m not going anywhere, Fade. You’re my partner. I choose you. I always will.”
After that, I simply sat beside him, listening to him breathe. It wasn’t enough, but it was more than he’d let me do before. Step by step, he would let me back in. My eyes closed and I tipped my head back against the wall. Stalker jostled me eventually—and by the angle of the light, a few hours had passed. They must’ve talked until nearly dawn.
The colonel finally said, “No more discussion. It’s time to vote.”
“Seconded,” said the gray-haired man.
“All in favor of sending reinforcements, say aye and raise your hand.”
The result came down in our favor, four to two. I exhaled slowly and closed my eyes in relief; until this moment, I hadn’t realized how worried I was that we’d fail. Fortunately Colonel Park paid attention to the world she lived in and was willing to accept change even when it didn’t mean good things for her town. I wished the elders in the enclave had been more like her.
But it still wasn’t as fast as I would’ve liked because then they had to debate how many men they could afford to send without critically crippling Soldier’s Pond. The endless talking was making me antsy, so I rolled into my blankets and went to sleep. I figured somebody would nudge me awake when it was time to move. This time there were no nightmares at least.
By the way my body felt, it couldn’t have been more than an hour before Tegan touched my shoulder. “It’s settled. We’re taking fifty soldiers back to Salvation.”
For the number of Freaks we faced, it wasn’t nearly enough, but I couldn’t complain when they were endangering their own citizens to help us. Shoving the hair out of my face, I rolled to my feet and collected my belongings. Everyone else was assembling outside. Fade and Stalker stood on opposite sides of the yard, and I didn’t think I was imagining the narrow stare Fade offered the other boy. Though he’d claimed he didn’t care what I did or with who, obviously that wasn’t true.
Morgan stood at the head of the men given to our cause. In the dawn light, I saw that he had long dark hair, lightly sprinkled with silver, but his face didn’t look as old as I’d first thought. He had lines at the corners of his eyes, but they came from humor, I thought, or sunshine, not the endless march of years. His mouth turned up at the edges as if he found it difficult not to smile, an expression echoed by the warm gray of his eyes; they were like smoke, warm and changeable.
Right now, he was giving orders to his men. “Infantry in good condition can cover thirty to forty miles a day on foot. We have to move at least that fast in order to prove of any help to Salvation. If any among you thinks he can’t sustain that pace for whatever reason, speak now.”
“I’ve got a bum foot,” a man said. “Broke it a few years back and it didn’t heal right. I’d only slow you down.”
“Thanks for your honesty.” Morgan turned to someone I took for his second in command.
The big, burly man responded by calling out another name, and a new soldier took the dismissed one’s place in the formation. Unlike the guard in Salvation, these men were well trained. I could tell by their body language that they had drilled together extensively and fought real battles beyond the walls. Many of them had Freak scars, claw marks on faces or forearms, visible badges of their courage and skill. Touched by her valor and willingness to risk trouble for our sakes, I strode over to the colonel.
“I can’t thank you enough, sir. You don’t know what this means for us.”
“God grant it’s sufficient,” she said, “but it’s all we can do. Otherwise we’ll be too weak to defend, should the Muties turn their ambitions west.”
It’ll happen, I thought.
But it wasn’t the time for dire proclamations. Soon thereafter, we moved out, passing from Soldier’s Pond in a concerted lockstep. I’d never traveled with such a large group before, topside or down below. It seemed risky, but there was no avoiding it. We’d slaughter any scouting parties we encountered, unless the horde itself was rolling west. Letting my feet join their cadence was easy, but to my surprise, Morgan summoned me to the front of the column.
“I need to know how many we’re up against.”
“Honestly,” I said, “I’m not even sure I can count that high.”
Morgan laughed at first, probably thinking I was exaggerating but my sober expression assured him I wasn’t kidding. Then he swore. “Give me your best estimate.”
I thought about that. “I saw five hundred beans once. I’m pretty sure there are more.” Then I described the nightmare of the horde encamped on the plain, along with the pockets of human prisoners and the multiple fires burning.
He made an odd gesture, touching his forehead, heart, left shoulder, then right. I had no idea what it meant but he seemed to take comfort in it. “I almost wish you hadn’t told me that.”
“Why?”
“Because now I’m the bastard keeping the truth from his men. If I tell them, they’ll head back to Soldier’s Pond. They’ll know, just as I do, that this battle can’t be won with our forces.”
Sour sickness roiled in my stomach, born of fear, not because I feared dying, but because Morgan was right and I hated the idea of letting everyone down. For my new home, I wanted to do the impossible; I just didn’t know how.
“Maybe we can create enough havoc to allow Salvation to evacuate.” I was proud of that word. I’d seen it first in the ruins, then later Mrs. James, the teacher who had been the bane of my existence, had explained in a superior tone what it meant.
“Hit and run is our only option, but for the Muties, the woods are home ground. Guerilla tactics may prove difficult.”
“I can help with that,” Stalker said.
I hadn’t noticed him joining us, which was a testament to how quiet he could be. Morgan turned to him with interest. “How so?”
“I know the terrain fairly well and I’m a good tracker. I can help by laying snares, planning ambushes. We can’t fight them head-on, but I have experience with whittling down a superior enemy.”
He must be referring to battles he’d fought in the ruins, destroying gangs with greater numbers until the Wolves were the most powerful force in the area. Overall, Stalker didn’t seem proud of that experience, but I wasn’t sorry he had it if it meant better odds for us at Salvation. He should realize that he could be proud of his skills without taking satisfaction in every bad thing he’d ever done. There were dark times from my enclave days that I would rather forget, now that I understood just how cruel our rules had been. Morgan listened to Stalker’s comments attentively, nodding and occasionally offering a question or suggestion. After a few moments, I fell behind to join Tegan, who was bearing up better than I could’ve imagined.
“They have some good ideas,” she said.
“Stalker does, anyway. Sounds as if he’s fought against long odds before.”
Her eyes distant, she nodded. “The Wolves went up against the Kings right after they took me. The Kings had more people, but Stalker cut them down. Half of his members were cubs, but he taught them to be merciless and cunning.”
Thinking back, I recalled how my hesitation about fighting brats had led to Fade and me being captured. I just hadn’t expected them to fight that hard or that well. Not at their age. If Stalker could focus that experience on defending Salvation, then maybe all wasn’t lost. I exhaled as we marched on, glad to have this burden off my shoulders.
My skill didn’t lie in planning battles, only in fighting them.
Destruction
By the time we reached Salvation, it was too late.
I’d feared that might be the case, but I’d forced the worst potential outcomes from my head and focused on my task. When we approached from the west, the darkening sky glowed orange from the flames devouring the settlement. I heard evidence of the horde nearby, but we didn’t have men sufficient to face them. Pain lanced through me until I couldn’t breathe.
Unlike when Nassau sent the blind brat to our enclave for aid, we’d succeeded in fetching help but it didn’t change anything.
“We should get back to Soldier’s Pond.” By Morgan’s expression, he believed me regarding the number of Freaks massing, and he wanted to advise the colonel.
“You can go,” I said. “But I have to get closer. If there’s anything I can do to save my family—”
“There’s not,” Morgan snapped.
But I wasn’t willing to take his word. I set off for the burning ruins of Salvation without asking anyone to accompany me. Tegan and Stalker didn’t see me leave, but Fade raced after me. I didn’t even have to ask.
“This is foolhardy,” he said.
“I know.”
It was nothing but open ground from the river’s edge to the carnage in Salvation. From this distance, I smelled burning wood, mingled with blood and charred flesh. The west wall crumbled before my eyes, fiery timbers collapsing in a shower of sparks; they soared in the night air like fireflies and the smoke curled upward, ghostly in the moonlight. Momma Oaks had told me that her people believed the soul lived on, after death—that it was a smoky sort of thing that filled your body and helped you remember to be kind. I wondered whether it looked something like this, slipping out of the nose and mouth as a person died.
A group of Freaks hit us—ten strong—and they snarled a challenge, fortunately drowned by the roaring fire they had started. Some distance beyond I heard townsfolk screaming, but I couldn’t focus on them just yet. If Fade and I died here, I wouldn’t be able to help anyone; I wasn’t ready for my soul to drift out of my ears. In a smooth motion, I drew my blades and Fade backed up against me. This felt sure and natural. It was long odds, but I had been fighting this kind of battle since the day I was born, not against Freaks, but against hunger and disease—enemies that couldn’t be faced down with a knife and a fierce look.
“We can take them,” Fade said.
“We have to.”
There was no other option. Either we killed them quick or the rest of the horde found us. Maybe we could drop ten, but not a hundred or a thousand. Or more. They encircled us so we couldn’t flee, more signs they were employing tactics and strategy, but since we had no interest in turning tail, they only offered us better targets. I hoped the Soldier’s Pond reinforcements didn’t retreat, as we might need them to cover our return.
Too late to worry about it now.
The first one lashed out at me and I met the strike with a slice of my blade, opening its forearm from elbow to wrist. Oddly, the blood smelled less fetid to me, if not quite what normal humans had. I sniffed as I followed up with my left knife, carving a path across its chest. More salt and something else, but this Freak no longer reeked as if it were rotting from within. It just smelled … different, and that worried me, but I reacted with dead calm, blocking second and third strikes. The fourth one nailed me, and it hurt. With Fade at my back, I couldn’t retreat. I had to hold my ground for him.
I felt his movements behind me, full of his old grace. Now and then he grunted a curse, muffled a sound of pain. I finished the first one with a downward arc of my knife. Four to go. Gunfire banged in sharp repetition some yards away.
So all the guards aren’t dead. They’re fighting in that inferno.
The Freak dropped at my feet, giving the others room to spread out. They didn’t growl or keen in grief; no, these were warriors, bent on my death. With more room to maneuver, they could swing wider and at the same time. I battled two at once while the third and fourth snarled, looking for an opening, but they couldn’t get to me without knocking their comrades aside. Freaks had progressed far enough that they didn’t shove one another down to get at their prey.
They’re fully organized. The thought chilled me, even as I severed two claws. Still twitching, they hit the grassy ground, smearing green with red, though in the dark it was impossible to tell. Blood spurted from the stumps, then the beast lunged at me with its other talons. Its partner came at me from the side and nearly took my head off. I was tired from the march, too slow to offer my best efforts. But Fade came across my shoulder and stabbed the Freak right through the eye.
When I glanced back, just for a second, I saw he’d already dropped three, and the other two were showing signs of fear. They hadn’t broken and run but they’d backed off a few steps, snarling to show they meant business, but when that wasn’t followed by an immediate attack, it meant he had successfully intimidated them. I loved seeing him back in fighting form, even as I was a little ashamed of my own performance. But maybe Fade needed me to be weak occasionally, giving him the opportunity to be strong. That was all right by me; it wasn’t like I was doing this on purpose.
I’m just so tired.
“Don’t make me do all the work.” His tone was lighter than I’d heard in days.
“I’m trying.”
But when I barely blocked a blow that would’ve impaled me, he snarled like a beast; and like he had done down below, I watched him come unhinged. I knew enough to scramble out of his way as Fade went berserk, his knives a silver blur in the starlight. Moments later, there were ten bodies at his feet and he was covered in blood, breathing hard through his nose.
I approached with care, keeping an eye on the periphery. “Thanks. I was flagging.”
“Don’t I scare you when I get like that?” he asked, low.
I said with conviction, “No. You’d never hurt me.”
“I already have.”
“Not with your knives. Come on.” I cut the discussion and wheeled toward the burning town, determined to help if at all possible.
But the heat was too fierce near the walls and I couldn’t cross. Maybe if I had a wagon or some buckets, I could work on the fire, but my knives were no help at all and I could hear Freaks nearby. This wasn’t a rescue; it was just foolish. My heart dropped into my stomach. Then I saw someone moving near the walls.
Desperate, I yelled, “There’s a secret exit under Elder Bigwater’s house, a tunnel that leads out of town. Round up as many people as you can and get them out!”
“Thanks, Deuce! Will do,” came the shouted reply. Through flickering orange flames, I caught a glimpse of the man moving off, and I was relieved to recognize Harry Carter. He’d saved my life, done me a good turn when Longshot died, and it was right to repay the favor.
Fade beckoned impatiently. “We need to get away, direct the others to the tunnel mouth if they’re still here.”
I nodded. “Lead on.”
The run was harrowing since we were dodging prowling Freaks the whole time, and I was relieved to see Morgan and others right where we’d left them. “If you were one of my soldiers, you’d get a dishonorable discharge so fast it’d make your head spin.”
“But I’m not,” I pointed out.
The older man scowled. “Did you accomplish anything, at least?”
Tegan and Stalker were both talking over each other with incoherent recriminations. My fingers were bloody, and I was soot-stained, but I was no more injured than I had been in any other battle. I hushed them with a gesture, addressing Morgan.
“I think so.”
Concisely, I explained about Harry Carter and the tunnel. Tegan and Stalker stood nearby, listening. Fear and pain crimped her brows together, flattened her mouth into a pale line. I knew she was worried about her family.
Me too.
“Why do you think they weren’t evacuating already?” Tegan asked softly.
I shrugged. “Maybe Elder Bigwater died before he could tell anyone.”
“Zach knew about it,” Stalker said.
That much was true. But we wouldn’t know why until we rescued some of the townsfolk, provided that was even possible. Hopefully Harry Carter could get people rounded up and make them listen, but terror made it hard to think straight. Between fire and Freaks, the citizens of Salvation weren’t equipped to deal with danger on this scale.
“Can you find the outlet?” I asked him.
With a nod in lieu of a wordier reply, Stalker bounded off. Morgan was already signaling his men to follow.
“Stay sharp,” he ordered.
Good advice, as it was likely we’d fight as a whole before too long. In the distance, I made out screaming from those who hadn’t reached the tunnel. I couldn’t remember ever being this scared. I wanted to rescue my family—Momma Oaks, Rex, and Edmund—and I didn’t know whether it was possible. Truth be known, I’d rather save everyone.
“How big is the tunnel?” Morgan asked me.
“Not very. The townsfolk will be fleeing a few at a time.”
“I hope they have the sense not to panic once they climb out,” he muttered.
Though it sounded callous, I hoped so too. People running and screaming in the dark would draw the horde down on us, leaving no chance for escape. The rest of us ran after Stalker, who paused now and then to check a landmark. He kept the route in his head, no need for Longshot’s maps. If he couldn’t recall where the passage let out—
But he led us straight to it, and to my relief, we found a few citizens hiding nearby, mostly women and children. I didn’t see Momma Oaks among them. My heart sank even as more people crawled out of the earth, filthy, terrified, some burned or wounded. Tegan got to work immediately, tending the injured.
Morgan drew me aside. “How long do you plan to wait? We need to move before dawn. We’ll be easier to track escorting the refugees.”
He was right, but that didn’t make the truth easy to bear. “I know. Give us as long as you can.”
The Soldier’s Pond guard checked his personal timepiece, similar to the one Fade had from his sire. “Three hours, then we march. No sleep tonight.”
More screaming, cries of pain, echoed from the burning settlement. The report of rifles said that the guards were buying as much time as they could for the noncombatants to escape. I wished I could break from cover and go kill some Freaks, but that would only give away our position. It would happen soon enough on its own; there was no way to hide so many souls. The moment the wind shifted, it would carry our combined scents to the monsters. Then it would be up to us to cover the retreat.
