by L. S. O'Dea
She couldn’t bring herself to explain the look of disgust and horror on Jethro’s face. “He...he wasn’t happy to see me and I was so mad...”
“What did you do?” Gaar’s hand froze in mid-air.
“Nothing.” She flushed. “I yelled at him. Told him I wished I’d let him drown and then ran away.”
He burst out laughing.
“It’s not funny.”
“He’s lucky you didn’t kill him.” He met her gaze, his was amused. “You do have a bit of a temper.”
“I’m getting better at controlling it.” She was trying anyway.
“I’ll believe that when I see it.”
“Can we change the subject?” She glanced up at him from under her lashes. It usually didn’t work on him, but she’d try anything to stop talking about Jethro and last night.
His eyes narrowed and then gleamed. “Sure. You need to give your mother a break.”
She straightened. This subject wasn’t better. “Why? She never gave me one. Still doesn’t. All I hear from her is criticism about the way I’m living and my friends.” She poked his arm. “Those complaints are mostly about you.”
“She worries about you.” He brushed her hand away.
“She wants me mated so she can focus all her attention on Arthur.”
“Ahh, so that’s the problem. I’d wondered.”
“There is no problem except with her.” She snapped her stick in half. She’d ruined the point anyway. “Of course, if you ask her, I’m the problem.”
“You’re jealous of Arthur.”
“I am not.” But she was. Her mom bragged about Arthur’s teeth and claws and how fast he was and how well he could climb. All the things that’d she’d had to hide her entire life. Sometimes she hated her parents and Arthur.
“She did the best that she could with you. Parents aren’t perfect. You’ll be a mother one day—”
“I won’t file down my kids’ teeth and claws and make them hate...lie about who they are.”
“She did what she did to keep you alive.”
She snorted. That was true but it still hurt.
“I hope you never have to make hard choices like she did.”
“Hard choices! I’ve already made a lot of hard choices.”
“No. You’ve made difficult choices. Choices that tested your character, but you always had a choice that was right, at least to you.”
“I don’t see the difference.”
“You chose to come back and free me and Mirra, and I thank you for that, but what if you couldn’t free us? What if one of us had been too hurt? Could you have put us out of our misery?”
“There would’ve been some other way.” She paled. She hadn’t been able to kill Petarvarious. There was no way she could’ve killed Gaar or Mirra.
“Sometimes the only choices you have are bad ones.” He put the stick aside. “That’s a hard choice.”
She looked at her mother who was holding Arthur and standing with the Producers. She hoped she’d never have to make hard choices because she was pretty sure she’d fail.
CHAPTER 53: HUGH
IT WAS TIME FOR Hugh to go over his plan. He was going to need a lot of assistance to make it work. He cleared his throat, staring at the crowd of Guards, Servants, Producers and Grunts. “I know that everyone realizes we brought in new Guards. All freed from certain death by the Almightys.”
There were mumbles, mostly of consensus, although he was pretty sure a few House Servants’ grumbles were discontented. He ignored them.
“I was sure that the Almightys would come after us, after me for doing that.” He paused. “I was wrong.”
There were whispers in the crowd. Good. He had their attention.
“Instead, being the cowards that they are, they attacked the innocent.”
A hush fell over the group.
“The Almightys performed a sweep of the city, picking up all House Servants and Guards without papers and taking them to the shelters. Many of them went to the Midtown Shelter.”
There were murmurs throughout the crowd, their righteous anger almost a living thing.
“They’ll all be killed unless something is done.”
“What can we do?” asked one of the Guards who’d recently been freed. “I know what it’s like to be in that shelter and I wouldn’t wish it on a House Servant.”
The Servants began arguing with the Guards. Jackson shook his head, sending Hugh a commiserating look.
Hugh shoved into the crowd, getting between the House Servants and Guards. He’d had enough of this. “You’ll get everyone killed”—he glanced from one group to the other—“with your constant bickering and fighting. You can hate each other for the rest of your lives but from now until the end of this war, you’ll fight together or you can leave.”
“Hugh, I wouldn’t...” said Jackson, who’d followed him into the crowd.
Some of the Guards started to back away.
“I don’t need anyone who can’t get along.” He ran his hand through his hair. He was going to be bald before this ended. “We can’t fight a war against the Almightys when we’re fighting amongst ourselves.”
“I’m not working with House Servants. They can’t be trusted,” said one of the Guards who’d taken a step back.
“Guards are slow and stupid and they’ll get us all killed,” answered a Servant.
He was losing. They would scatter into the forest. The Guards and Servants in the shelters would die and it’d be his fault. He wasn’t a leader. He was a scientist. He had no business doing this.
“Hugh’s right. You should all leave.” Trinity yelled to be heard over the rumbling of the crowd.
Everyone turned to look at her.
She stood off to the side, alone with no group. “Go back to the Almightys who treated you so well.” She glanced around. “Oh, that’s right. You’re here because no one wants you.” The crowd parted as she moved into it. “Do you think you can make it on your own in the forest?” She looked around again and shrugged. “Some of you will do okay. There aren’t as many predators as before, but what about when the Almightys start hunting you and they will.” She stopped by Hugh’s side and turned around, meeting and holding the gaze of one Guard or House Servant after the other. “Believe me. They don’t like to be disobeyed. They will hunt you down, every last one of you and your offspring. They’ll either kill you or force you back into servitude.”
The crowd began to murmur again.
“So, go.” She turned to Hugh. “What’s your plan to save the House Servants and Guards? You may have to alter it since”—she cast a disgusted glance over her shoulder at the others—“these pathetic creatures only care about themselves but we can still do something.”
“Wait a minute,” said one of the older Servants. He had the ear of many in his group. “We never said we wouldn’t help save others of our kind.” He glared at the Guards. “We just don’t want to work with Guards.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “And they don’t want to work with us, so everyone is happy.”
“No. You follow my command or you go.” If he backed down now, they had no chance of winning this war.
The House Servant’s eyes narrowed. “Just like an Almighty. I told you High Hugh Truent wasn’t any better than the others.”
“If that’s how you feel, then you should leave.” He kept his face impassive, but if they lost the Servants it’d hurt.
A few started to wander off.
“However, think about this,” he said. “I may be insisting that you follow my orders but I am giving you the choice. I’m treating you as an equal. Do you think Almightys get to do whatever we want? No, but we have the choice to follow the rules or pay the price.” He smiled. “I know all about that.”
There were a few snickers in the crowd.
He scanned the faces, so different but also so similar. Some looked angry but under that anger was fear. Risking their lives for something bigger than themselves was new to them and it was never easy. “
If we don’t work together, we’ll fail and many will die. It’s as simple as that.”
“Why do we have to work together? Why can’t the Guards save the Guards and the Servants save the Servants?” asked one of the Guards.
There were many murmurs of consent from both groups.
“We need to work together because the Almightys won’t expect it.”
That silenced all of them.
“This war is not going to be easy to win. The Almightys have the numbers and the resources on their side, but what we have is each other and the forest. They’ll have to come to our backyard to fight and if we work together we’ll win.” They still weren’t buying it. He began to pace. “Let me explain. The House Servants can see, smell and climb better than the Guards. Right?”
There were some complaints from the Guards but most nodded.
“And the Guards are stronger and better at working in a group than the House Servants.”
Again, some discontent regarding the assessment but mostly nods.
“The Producers are large and strong, stronger than even the Guards and the Grunts are even bigger.” He glanced at the crowd. He had their attention. “Imagine an army of all these groups working together. Imagine Servants scouting ahead for traps and enemies or waiting in trees to ambush or lure the opponent into a waiting group of Guards who are hiding in the bushes.”
The Guards and House Servants started sizing each other up.
He walked over to Travis and patted him on the chest. “Now, imagine a front line of Producers standing tight and tall together.” He looked at the biggest Guard. “If a Producer fought back, you wouldn’t win, would you.”
“Well...”
“No,” said Jackson. “Not alone.” He stepped up by Hugh. “When I helped manage the Producer Camps, our biggest fear was that the Producers would refuse to obey. If they’d ever fought back or stood their ground as a group, we wouldn’t have been able to force them to do anything.”
Hugh tipped his face toward Travis and whispered, “Never thought about that did you?”
Travis flushed, but stood a little taller.
“I’m not asking you to become best friends,” said Hugh. “All I’m asking is that you put aside your differences to fight the common enemy.” He winked at Trinity. “You can go back to hating each other as soon as we’ve won freedom for all.”
“I can live with that,” said the older House Servant.
“I guess that’d be all right,” said the Guard who seemed to be the leader of their group.
He wanted to collapse in relief. He’d just won the first battle. “Great. Now, I’ll explain how we’re going to free the House Servants and Guards.”
“But won’t they be expecting us at the Midtown Shelter?” asked the old Servant.
He smiled, feeling like himself for the first time in a long time. “Not just the Midtown Shelter. We’re going to free the House Servants and Guards from all the shelters. That, they won’t be expecting.”
CHAPTER 54: HUGH
HUGH, ALONG WITH JACKSON, Tim and a few others, had spent yesterday and most of the evening going through all the information that Townsend had sent by Birdie about the shelters. Everyone was once again gathered and he’d just gotten done telling each of them what team they were on and which shelter they were assigned.
“What about the Producers and Grunts?” Trinity’s eyes gleamed with challenge.
He didn’t want to have this fight in front of everyone, but it looked like they would. He turned toward her, meeting her gaze. It was a valid question and although he’d wanted to avoid it, he was prepared. “There aren’t that many Grunts and they all have homes. Isn’t that right?”
The small group of Grunts talked amongst themselves and then Cack nodded.
“They’re welcome to join us if they wish, but most are happy where they are.”
Cack made a noise that was definitely in disagreement.
He should’ve shut up while he was ahead.
Cack made motions and grunts. Trinity seemed to understand some of what he was saying which was just great because she’d only understand what made her argument stronger.
“I think he’s saying that they aren’t all treated well but they’re spread out at different homes. It’d be impossible to reach them all in a night.”
Cack nodded and grabbed her shoulder, turning her to face him as he motioned and grunted more.
“He’d like your promise that once this is done, you’ll send teams to find the Grunts and offer them freedom.”
He wouldn’t make false promises. “Things are going to get bad after this. Jason will come for us. I think we should wait. The Grunts may not be happy where they are, but they are safe, safer than the forest will be for them.”
Cack started to argue.
He couldn’t afford any dissent. The groups were barely together as it was. “We can send a small team, led by you and your wife.” This would get Cack’s very pregnant wife out of danger. He didn’t want to lose anyone, but he would. It was war. However, he could minimize the likelihood of losing a baby. “You can go and talk to the other Grunts. Tell them what it’s like in the forest. You can help them determine if they want to leave now, or if they’d rather leave later when things are more settled.”
Cack talked with the other Grunts. He turned and nodded, smiling his big, toothy smile.
“Good. We’re in agreement.” He wanted to stop now, but the Producers were all staring at him, their large, brown eyes hurt and confused. They’d been treated badly enough by Almightys. He couldn’t give them any doubt as to his intentions and their worth in his army. “Now, let’s discuss what we can do for the Producers.”
“No discussion,” said Trinity. “We free them like we’re freeing the Servants and Guards.” Her hands were on her hips, claws peeking from her fingertips.
He sighed. “You’re not going to like this, but hear me out. We can’t free all them...”
The Producers began to grumble.
“Yet.” That stopped them. “The camps are too far apart. It’d take days to get to all of them and we don’t have the time. As it is, it’s going to take us two days to get everyone in place. That means two Guards will die today and two more tomorrow.”
“Producers die every day.” Her golden eyes were furious as she scanned the crowd and stopped on him. “They die for your food. How many have to die before they’re as important to you as the Guards?”
“They are as important. I swear.” She had a point. He had to scramble or he’d lose ground. “And we will free them, but not this mission.”
The Producers began to grumble more.
“Listen. We can send groups to the nearby camps. Free those who want to be freed.” Trinity flinched and that was his opening. “From what I’ve heard and seen by the small number of Producers here and the large number still at your home”—he looked directly at her—“many refuse to believe that they’re destined for food. They’re happy and safe.” He held up his hand to stop the complaints. “They’re safer than they’d be in the forest.” He turned to Travis. “How many died after you freed them from the Finishing Camp?”
“Too many.” Travis looked down, some of his anger vanishing.
“I promise that we’ll free them but now is not the time. By this action, we’re starting this war in earnest. Trust me when I say that the Producers, as a whole, are safer where they are.”
“Easy for you to say.” Trinity’s voice bristled with anger. “You’ve never been anything’s dinner.”
“And neither have you. You’re alive.” He waved at the forest. “Any one of us could be the dinner of a River-Man or a Cold Creeper or Araldo only knows what else lurks in these woods.”
“It’s not the same.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m taking a group to the Remore Producer Camp.”
She wasn’t asking and he couldn’t allow that, not in front of everyone. “No. You’ll stay here and help pack up camp.” By look on everyone�
�s face, he’d just blundered. She was the most capable in the forest besides Gaar and this group wouldn’t follow a fool. He had to explain. “They want you as much as they want me.”
“I doubt that,” she said.
“You were attacked by five House Servants, not me. Someone wants you.”
“We don’t know for sure that they were after me,” she said, but her voice lacked conviction.
“It’d be better if you stayed at camp.” The thought of her in danger made his gut twist. He had to convince her. “We’re leaving all our young, old and sick here. We need someone who can protect them.”
There were murmurs in the group. His argument made sense.
“I’m not staying behind.” She looked at Jackson. “He’s protection enough.”
He’d forgotten that Jackson had agreed to pack up camp and look after those who were too frail to help with the mission. If he didn’t counter her argument, he’d lose, but he couldn’t come up with a good reason to leave her behind except the truth—that he’d do anything to keep her safe.
“Plus, many of the others who are staying may be old but they’ve been surviving in the forest for years. They can protect themselves from the forest predators,” she continued.
That group grumbled in agreement. No one wanted to be a burden. In their lives being old and weak equaled death.
Her eyes met his in triumph. “And don’t lie and say that you expect an Almighty attack. They won’t do anything right now. They’re waiting for you.”
She was right and everyone knew it. He was backed into a corner. He wanted to strangle her or tie her up in his tent until this entire mess was over, but unfortunately, he couldn’t do either. He ran his hand through his hair. “Fine, but not the Remore camps.” Jethro was home and may visit the family business. He couldn’t risk her seeing him. She was infatuated with the lad and Jethro was too friendly with Conguise. “We don’t have enough people to send to all the encampments and Producers aren’t being killed at the Remore camps.”
“But for how long?” asked Travis, his anger returning.
“I don’t know, but I do know that living in their home where no one is being sent to the Warehouse District is safer than the forest.” He glanced at the other Producers. “How many of you come from other, nearby camps?”
