by Ann Aguirre
“If they can’t recover enough to serve, then they have to go,” the colonel said. “We can’t afford to support those who give nothing back.”
So they weren’t wholly unlike the enclave, here. They just had the resources to permit a façade of kindness, but ultimately, the result wasn’t too much different. “How long will you give them to heal before sending them away?”
The colonel seemed surprised by my question. “We discussed this issue, and a month seems fair. So we’ll assess everyone in thirty days.”
I had to admit, that was reasonable. If a patient wasn’t on his feet and in fighting form after all that time, it was unlikely he or she ever would be. Sending the injured out into the wilderness was the same as a death sentence, but that wasn’t the colonel’s problem. She had to look out for the welfare of her citizens foremost. I understood that well enough.
“What about able-bodied souls? If they don’t have anyone who can fight, how long before you ask them to move along?”
“There’s never been a time limit set on trading parties or visitors,” the colonel said. “But they wouldn’t have citizenship rights.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means they need a way to earn their food and shelter, and we give priority to businesses run by those who have someone in service.”
So the Oakses could stay, but there was no guarantee anyone would buy from Edmund’s shop. With a faint sigh, I turned and walked toward the exit. The others had mostly filed out of the hall; they milled around discussing the decision in low tones. For the most part, their reaction sounded approving. I stopped short when I realized my family was waiting just outside the doors.
“You already volunteered for us,” Momma Oaks said with a touch of anger.
The failure stung. “I tried. They won’t take me. Said I’m not old enough.”
It never even occurred to me that there would be some arbitrary age that qualified me as old enough to fight since I’d been doing it for years. The schooling requirement in Salvation might’ve given me some clue, but there, the magic number was sixteen, and I’d reached it. I wished I’d known about the rule before; to help my family, I would’ve lied. Frustration surged through me.
Too late now.
“You aren’t,” Edmund agreed.
Before I could protest, Rex said, “I’ll do it.”
I wondered if his parents noticed the despair in his eyes. He wasn’t stepping forward so they’d have a place to stay. Ruth’s loss ate at him, making him just not care about the consequences. This couldn’t happen.
Momma Oaks shook her head. “Absolutely not. I’ve already lost one son.”
“So we rest up a bit and gather supplies.” Edmund produced a cheerful, determined look. “Then we move on. There must be a settlement that doesn’t require military service. It’s just a matter of finding one that suits us.”
Given the distance between towns and the danger of the territory, I wasn’t sure it would be that simple. But the way Momma Oaks brightened, I could see that Edmund’s words had the desired effect. And I couldn’t bring myself to kick dirt on the fire of their hope.
So I offered, “I can check the maps. Longshot has notes about all the towns and settlements on the trade routes.”
Edmund sighed. “I wish I’d paid more attention to his stories, but the rest of us weren’t permitted to travel, even if we wanted to. So it seemed better not to indulge in curiosity.”
But I had noticed that he had a secret yen to know more about the world he hadn’t been allowed to explore because he’d asked me all kinds of questions when I went out on patrol. I wondered if Edmund had ever felt stifled by his life in Salvation. Not enough to want it to end this way, I imagined.
“Don’t worry,” Rex said. “We’ll find somewhere to settle. This is a good enough place, but maybe it’s not where we belong.”
I agreed. “If they can’t see that I’m capable of fighting, they don’t deserve my blades.”
“They don’t know you,” Momma Oaks said. “Like us, they only understand what life has shown them. And I’m willing to bet there’s nobody here like you.”
Given the smile she was wearing, that felt like a compliment.
Accommodation
Spence broke away from his conversation with Tully when he saw we were done discussing our options. “If you’ll come with me, I’ve got your temp quarters assignment.”
“You have houses standing empty?” Edmund asked.
That was interesting since Salvation had gotten to the point that land within the walls was at a premium. There had been talk that families would need to start doubling up in the next generation. That would never happen now, of course. Sorrow settled in my stomach like a lump of stone; so many people had died. I saw far too few familiar faces in Soldier’s Pond.
“There was an epidemic last winter. We lost more men to it than we have the Muties.”
“How is that possible?” Momma Oaks wondered.
If she hadn’t asked, I would have.
“We have stockpiles of weapons and ammo. After the army conscripted this location, Soldier’s Pond became a military base. They didn’t expect to be here long, so they went light on certain provisions.”
“Like medicine,” I guessed.
Spence nodded. “It makes things tough. There are always plenty of people who can teach you how to fight. In other respects…”
“Then it seems like you’d be happy to find craftsmen in your midst, whether any of us are willing to fight or not,” Edmund said in the sharpest tone I’d ever heard from him.
“Are you a smith?” Spence asked.
He shook his head. “Cobbler. I made the finest shoes and boots in Salvation.”
The man studied his feet, clad in obviously substandard gear. “I’ll talk to Thornton—he’s in charge of goods and supplies—see if I can get a special dispensation for you. Policies always have exceptions.”
That was intriguing, too. By rights, he should be applying to the colonel, if things ran as they should. The idea that Thornton quietly did as he wished without regard to his leader’s wishes both interested and alarmed me. But I didn’t speak of these misgivings.
Momma Oaks brightened. “That’s kind of you, sir. I’m a seamstress. Would that help?”
“Not as much, ma’am. This way, please?”
“You go on,” I said then. “If I know Tegan, she plans to tend the wounded through the night. I’ll help her, and when we’re finished, I’ll camp out in the granary like before.”
“Get some rest,” Edmund cautioned, and Momma Oaks bussed me on the forehead.
I watched the path they took in case I needed to find them later and waited in front of the hall until I saw them go into a dark house. Then I turned my steps back toward the granary. In the dark, the paths between buildings were rocky and rutted. Some of them looked like the ones in the ruins, evidence of a facility for building that we no longer possessed. The rest of the trails were only worn in the dirt, pressed flat from repeated use.
“What’re you doing here?” Tegan asked when I stepped in.
“Lending a hand.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re my friend, and I care about these people, too.”
She nodded, her dark eyes full of sorrow. Because a number of our volunteers from the first evening didn’t return, it took us most of the night to complete treatment. The young warrior, Morrow, came in somewhere past midnight, to help out. She put him to work at once, turning the men who were too heavy or too hurt for us to manage. By morning, four of our patients had died. Tegan wept after the first; when the third one stopped breathing, she was pale and dry-eyed, which worried me.
“I don’t know where their families are,” she said flatly. “Or what kind of funeral rites they preferred in Salvation.”
“They were religious,” Morrow said. “They didn’t permit visitors, or I’d know more. Not sure if their minister made it. I can ask around … and if not, our
chaplain could say a few words.” He hesitated, then went on, “They can’t stay with the living. It’ll increase the risk of infection.”
Tegan snapped, “I know that. Go ahead.”
For the first time, I understood why people were always saying I was too young to fight. Because looking at my friend, I had that same thought. Someone older should’ve removed this burden from her shoulders; she shouldn’t be suffering like this. But with Doc Tuttle gone, she was the closest thing to a doctor these people had, and Tegan wouldn’t abandon them. I wouldn’t leave her dealing with this alone, either. Morrow removed the bodies with care, I’d grant him that. He didn’t treat them like dead strangers. Tegan’s sharpness softened a little, then.
“Thank you,” she murmured to him when he came back for the last time.
He only nodded.
“We need to sleep,” I said then. “The bandages have all been changed, and you’ll be no use to them if you fall asleep in the middle of treatment.”
With a reluctant nod, she agreed.
That set the tone for the next week. I had rarely been so tired in my life as I left the granary only to wash up and eat, then I came right back. It gave me the greatest satisfaction when our patients got well enough to move around, tend their own needs, and head to the mess instead of opening their mouths for broth like baby birds. I saw Stalker and Fade little. At the end of ten days, over half the casualties had healed, and fourteen died. By then, eight remained, among them Harry Carter. I had my doubts that he would make it. His wounds were severe and with his family gone, he didn’t seem to care that much about getting better.
I was exhausted and I ached all over when I stumbled out of the granary to eat. It had been weeks since I slept anywhere but on the floor, longer since I felt rested. Tegan had to feel just as bad, but she had more resolve for this kind of suffering. My own pain, I could deal with. I’d learned to tolerate it, shake it off, and keep fighting. I’d never learned how to handle anguish from people I was helping. Maybe I’d get better at it. With eight patients left, it wouldn’t be much longer. Then the burning of Salvation would only be a terrible night that lived in the memories of the survivors.
I collided with Fade as I turned toward the mess. His hands came to my shoulders in reflex to keep me from falling. Blearily I expected the same recoil, but I was too tired to mind. To my surprise, his hands lingered past the point where I was steady.
“You look exhausted,” he said.
“It’s been rough,” I admitted.
Fade fell into step with me. I hoped they would still be serving, as there were no other options for refugees. Inside the building, there was still a short line and the impatient server was ladling out soup; farther on, I took some stale bread. The food wasn’t good, but I’d had much worse on the road and down below. Fade took his meal and followed me to a table.
“What’ve you been doing?” I asked.
“Helping Edmund.”
I guessed I’d know that if I had visited the shop. News had funneled to me; as patients went for a walk, then limped back to the granary, they brought word from around town. So I knew Spence had made good on his promise to get an exception made for my family, and Edmund was hard at work, tanning and making boots. There had been some leather on hand, and Edmund had the skill to make more from skins the patrols brought in. Unlike theirs, his was high quality and butter soft. Somebody here knew the rudiments of a cobbler’s trade, but his work was shoddy and poor. Once the soldiers were all outfitted in better gear, though, I feared my family might be asked to move along.
“How long do you see us staying?”
Fade shrugged. “It doesn’t seem like home, but Salvation didn’t, either. I’m used to making the best of things.”
“What does make a place feel like home?”
“You,” he said quietly.
“So you weren’t at home in the enclave until you got to know me?”
“I never was, there. But you made things better.” He changed the subject then. “Have you seen much of Soldier’s Pond?”
“Mostly just the field hospital.” That was what the soldiers called it. “And the mess, of course. I’m awfully familiar with the ground in between the two buildings.”
“If you think Tegan could manage for a while, I could show you around.”
“I’d like that … and I think she can. We only have eight people left.”
“Is that good or bad?”
“Mostly, it’s good. But we lost a number of patients, and Tegan’s taking it hard.”
He nodded. “She feels like Doc Tuttle would do a better job if he were here because she didn’t complete her training with him.”
“He might know about treatments but there’s no way he could care more.” I finished my meal, then said, “Let me tell her, so she doesn’t worry.”
“She’s already eaten?”
“I always send her first. She won’t leave unless I make her.”
“Then let’s go,” he said.
Since I had Fade with me, despite my weariness, I ran the distance to the granary and darted inside. Today, it smelled less of putrid wounds and more of antiseptic. The scent of blood had dissipated days past. Two of the pallets were empty, so I hoped that meant they were moving around, not dead. I didn’t ask since Tegan wasn’t crying; I decided to assume the best.
She actually smiled when she saw me enter, Fade behind me. “Let me guess, you want some time off.”
“Just a little while. Will you be all right?”
“Of course. You’ve been more help than I could’ve asked. Go.” She made a shooing motion with both hands.
This time I took her at her word. As we stepped outside, Fade stilled me with a look. Once he was sure he had my attention, he reached out and laced our fingers together. Heat curled up my hand all the way to my forearm, but I was afraid to move, afraid I was dreaming. I could feel the difference in his fingertips, new calluses from working with Edmund. He rubbed his thumb across the back of my hand and I shivered in pleasure.
“You’re better?” I breathed.
“Not wholly. But I’ve been doing what you suggested, picturing the happy moments when it gets bad. I don’t like being grabbed unexpectedly—” From his expression, that was awful. “But I … can manage when I’m the one reaching out, and it’s even easier with you.”
“The memories will fade.” I sounded more sure than I felt, but it seemed like a reasonable guess. After all, I couldn’t remember much about going hungry as a brat, but during lean times, we all ate less than we wanted. Time had a way of smoothing out the rough edges.
“I suspect you’re right,” he said, surprising me.
He led me toward the town gate; apparently we would start the explorations at the beginning. In daylight things looked even more forbidding. I would’ve been able to tell that a military force was responsible for this settlement, even if nobody had told me. From the fortifications to the hidden defenses, Soldier’s Pond appeared more ready for war than Salvation, despite the lack of wooden walls. To my mind, now that the Freaks had fire, that might prove an advantage. Deep into the grass beyond the gate, I glimpsed defensive countermeasures: unnatural bulges in the ground and hidden pits, stands of wire, wrapped around devices I couldn’t identify.
In the distance I heard chanting, but I couldn’t make out the source until a group of recruits, all dressed uniformly in green, came loping past. I was awed by the matching cadences of their strides, the way their echoed words came perfectly in unison. At once I grasped the value of such training; not only were they strengthening their bodies, but the chant got them used to one another’s rhythms, which would translate to better combat timing.
Fade followed my glance. “You want to run with them?”
“Will they let us?”
“Officially? No. But they won’t break stride to drive us off, either.”
“Then let’s go.”
As the soldiers approached, we fell in behind them. I got my tour while
moving at a smart clip, and I took everything in—the houses were functional at best, and some of them had a strange look, as if humans hadn’t built them. The cuts were too neat, and I had no idea how a person could construct something out of sheets of metal. Here and there sat the rusted remnants of old machinery, a few of which had once been automated wagons, but they didn’t move anymore. The whole town was ringed in open steel fencing, so you could see right through it, and then it had spiked wires across the top. I suspected it would be hard to climb, difficult to maneuver over the top, and it didn’t burn, either. There were eight watchtowers posted around the perimeter, and from what I could tell, the men on duty were fully alert, scanning the horizon for any sign that the trouble from Salvation had followed us.
I didn’t learn the words to the running chant until our third circuit of town. By then, I was singing them out along with everyone else. It made me happy to keep up with grown fighting men, even with the long hours I had been working in the field hospital. When we finished, I was sweaty, but glowing with pride. Fade looked more or less the same as we ran through what the leader called cool-down exercises; it was mostly stretching, flexing, bending, and walking around, but he was right. I felt better when I stopped gradually.
“You sure you don’t want to join up?” the leader asked Fade. “You’re a natural recruit.”
He shook his head. “No thanks. Deuce isn’t old enough yet.”
The man’s expression hardened. “Think about your answer, son. Your thirty days will be up in a couple of weeks. What do you plan to do then?”
Belatedly I realized what that meant. Fade must be eighteen, or thereabouts. He wasn’t sure of his naming day, I suspected, as the elders had guessed down in the enclave. But based on his appearance and prowess, these soldiers were willing to take him on faith.
I swallowed hard. “If you want to sign up and take their training, I understand.”
“You’re crazy if you think I’m ever leaving you.”
That’s not what you said before. I must’ve said it with my eyes, as I would never do so out loud, because he registered my pain with a remorseful look.
