by KM Fortune
“This is a waste of time,” Hector said but stood up anyway and started to rummage through a another pile of trash.
CHAPTER 7
Willow felt the warmth from the chemically activated thermal blanket draped over her slowly seeping into her body and sighed. Another shiver shook her hard, and she clamped her teeth together until it passed. She knew the shivering was a good sign as the body started to warm itself and tried not to fight the shaking but she could not help wishing they would end soon. Finally, it passed, and she let her body relax. Blaze’s gentle hands massaged her feet and they tingled sharply as the blood circulated through her toes. I’ll be lucky not to lose some of them, if not all, she thought. She knew the trek through the snow had taken its toll on her body and yet for the moment, she did not care. For now, she was grateful to simply be alive. Thankful we are all alive actually. The fact was nothing short of a miracle, especially for Dawn who had been falling every few steps as she neared the end of her strength.
Dawn lay sleeping beside her on the narrow cot where they shared the blanket. Her body shivered too but hers did not seem to be subsiding as quickly. Willow worried about the baby the other woman carried. Even though Matthew had given up his black and gray parka for her to wear, the blowing snow and cold had been relentless. How cold did the unborn child get? How much can it take? she wondered. She knew she could ask Matthew. He seemed to know a great deal, especially about human bodies, but she did not want the answer to alarm the others if it was bad news. Willow resolved to ask him later when the five of them were not shoulder-to-shoulder in the emergency outpost shelter.
The space was cramped having only been designed to hold one or two men. The five of them were jammed inside yet it was well worth the discomfort. Even through the ceiling above, she could hear the wind pelting the trapdoor with ice. There was no doubt in her mind they would have all died by now had Matthew and Blaze not found the shelter. At first, when the two men were wrestling, Willow did not know what was happening. Her mind was foggy from the cold and fatigue, but when Matthew started to flail in the snowbank and Blaze was on top of him, she knew she had to do something. Calling out for Blaze to stop had taken all her breath and she did not know if he heard her, but she did not have the strength to try again. In fact, she did not have the strength to do anything and felt herself falling forward into the snow. The next thing she remembered, strong arms were lifting her up and she felt herself being lowered into a hole. She saw rungs of a ladder and then a sudden bright white light. Am I dying? she had wondered. It was not until later she saw the light was from a battery powered lantern on the wall. Only one of many conveniences she quickly learned. The space was completely self-contained with a small heater, survival rations, and a first-aid kit. Matthew was even able to heat a thick, high-calorie liquid for them to all drink. It was incredibly sweet but Willow felt herself regaining strength with every sip.
“I want to clean the raw skin on your ankle and add a bandage,” Matthew said. Willow looked at him. She saw the solemn concern on his face. Light brown stubble covered his jaw and the hair on his head was not much longer. It was the face of one of the Patrols. A soldier. Her enemy. Someone to never be trusted, yet his eyes were kind and she had to admit, his ability to lead them to the outpost saved them all. Willow nodded.
“I will let you,” she said. “But please help Dawn first. I can wait.” Without hesitation, Matthew pulled the blanket back and reached for Dawn’s foot. Twig grabbed Matthew’s wrist and glared into the other man’s face.
“If you hurt my mother, I will kill you,” he threatened. Matthew paused.
“The ointment may sting,” he said quietly. “But it will ease the pain after a moment and stop any infection. It is up to you.” Twig continued to stare at Matthew and hold his wrist. For a long moment, Willow was unsure which way the teenager would go, but she knew enough to not intercede. Blaze started to open his mouth to say something from where he sat huddled at the end of the cot but stopped when Willow gave him a subtle shake of her head. This is between Matthew and Twig, she thought. The Patrols killed his father and kidnapped his mother to take back to the Great Cave. It was their doing that she now wore the shackle which tore at the skin. Willow knew nothing she could say would help Twig make up his mind. It was up to him to determine if he would or would not trust Matthew. The moment held and neither man moved until finally Twig let go and sat back on his heels where he knelt beside the cot at his mother’s side.
“Do it,” he said.
Matthew nodded and with extreme gentleness slipped the shackle further up the woman’s leg. She moaned yet did not waken and Twig stiffened at the sound of her discomfort but let Matthew continue. Using a soft cloth and warm water, Willow watched him softly rub the raw and bloody wound around Dawn’s ankle. After a few moments, he spread some cream from a tube of ointment on the cuts. Through it all, Dawn slept and Willow’s concern for her grew. If the pain is not waking her ... she thought but then cut herself off. This was not the time to think negatively. Under the circumstances, where they were and who they were with was the best Willow could have hoped for and she would not forget it.
She watched as Matthew wrapped a thick layer of gauze around Dawn’s wounded ankle. “I’m sorry I don’t have a way to remove the shackle or even the chain,” he said. “It will probably take a chisel and hammer. Will they have something like that where we are going?” There is that ‘we’ again, Willow thought. Why in the world is this soldier helping us? We should be nothing to him. As if reading her thoughts, Blaze spoke up.
“Why are you helping us?” he said with his voice full of suspicion. “I tried to kill you out there not more than an hour ago and yet here you are sharing your supplies with us. It does not make sense to me.” Matthew looked over at Blaze.
“It is the right thing to do,” he said. Willow almost laughed at the matter-of-fact way the statement sounded. It was almost as if he could not understand why Blaze would think otherwise.
“Forgive me and the rest of us for not buying what you say, Matthew,” Willow said. “But your kind, the Patrols, have done everything in their power to destroy us.”
Matthew frowned. “I know,” he said as he continued to wrap Dawn’s ankle. “All I can say is I am not like the others. Not anymore. Raven helped me find a different way of thinking. I learned from her we are all worthy of saving.”
“Raven. She means a great deal to you, doesn’t she?” Dawn asked in a whisper from beside Willow on the cot. Everyone looked at her. With sleepy eyes, she glanced around at the others and smiled a little. “You all need to understand. Raven changed him. She made him good. Just like she will change all of us for the better.” The woman closed her eyes and murmured. “Raven is here to save us.” She was quiet again. Twig reached out and touched her face.
“Mama?” he asked. For a moment Willow thought the young woman was gone but then Dawn sighed.
“I’m okay, Twig. I can feel the baby too. Everything will be all right now. Just let us sleep,” she said. Willow saw relief fill Twig’s face. Slowly he lowered his head to rest against the edge of the cot and closed his eyes. Touched in a way she never imagined was still possible by the woman’s words and her son’s faith, Willow laid back and closed her eyes too. She did not have the heart to remind Dawn of the fact Raven was gone. There was no way to know if the wanderer from a strange land was even still alive. Willow’s thoughts turned to Kit and hoped the tiny woman was able to find shelter from the storm. Where do you sleep tonight, my courageous friend? she wondered but in her heart knew if anyone were able to weather a blizzard unscathed, it would be Kit.
CHAPTER 8
Kit was faring well. As the blizzard raged outside and the day turned dark as night descended, she sat inside the wrecked train car and ate the remains of a cooked owl. The unlucky bird was using the structure as a port from the storm when Kit spotted it. A quick flip of her throwing star brought it down from its perch and she had a fire going with it roasting over a s
pit within fifteen minutes. Licking her fingertips, she settled back against an old bale of hay left from ages ago in the car, and relaxed. She was certain the cat mutant would not try to move in the storm. The time to rescue Raven would come tomorrow at the earliest and she would be more than ready. A full belly and some rest were exactly what she needed. The last few days had been grueling and wrought with emotion. Losing Mouse tore at Kit’s heart and tears threatened but she was determined to not let sadness take over. She had never given into despair in all her hard years and she would not do so now. Still, Kit could not help but worry about Willow and the others. The storm had come on quickly and being caught out in it would make survival difficult if not impossible. Again she pushed her feelings down. Worry was almost as bad as despair. She could only focus on her immediate task. Living in the moment was all she dared let herself do. Life on the wasteland allowed for no dreams of the future and the past was filled primarily with sadness.
But not all of it, Kit thought. Willow made sure of that. The woman who took her in when Kit was a child did many things to make her smile over the years. Although few people knew it, Willow was a kind and caring woman deep down. It was her role as the clan’s leader which made people think she was hard and lacking in emotion. The long, pronounced scar on the woman’s face seemed to convey fierceness to others but which Kit knew from experience was not always the case. Willow only acted as a leader must in the savage world where they lived. The challenging decisions she had to make every day in order to ensure the survival of her clan left no room for signs of tenderness, which could appear weak. The people needed a leader who was fearless and confident because everyone knew it was do or die in the hard world where they lived.
Kit was brought out of her reverie by the sound of a howl of pain being carried over the wind. Can that possibly be the cat mutant? she thought. Did Raven somehow get the upper hand and hurt him? Kit was torn between venturing out into the blizzard to investigate and staying put in the safety of the boxcar. The blowing snow and the dark would make visibility zero yet she did not know if Raven needed help. I can’t risk it. She knew becoming disoriented in the storm was too likely and could mean a death sentence. As much as she hated it, her only real option was to wait until morning.
LESS THAN TWO HUNDRED feet away, Raven and Hector wrestled in a neighboring boxcar. If Kit had been able to look in on them, she would have no idea what to make of it and perhaps would even have laughed. Raven was holding fast onto Hector’s wounded paw while he tried anxiously to shake her loose. Through it all, he cursed and howled. Surprisingly, he did not growl but he knew better. She will just rub the cut harder if I make her mad, Hector thought through his gritted fangs.
“I can’t believe how much you are carrying on about this,” Raven told him as she held onto his wrist while pulling dead hair and scabbed skin out of the deep wound. Hector saw yellow puss rising to the surface again and when she swiped at it with a boiled piece of cloth from one of the blankets she wore as a poncho, he whimpered. Hector was not particularly used to pain and for the most part ignored it, but for some reason this bout of first-aid was kicking his ass.
“Just consider yourself lucky,” Hector said. “Normally I’d rip the head off of anyone who was doing this to me.”
“And what good would that do you?” Raven asked nonplussed by his threat. Once again, Hector was taken aback by her complete lack of concern for her safety. It was as if she knew without a doubt he would not hurt her. And is she right? Hector wondered. He had every intention of using her and her skills to trade for what he wanted and therefore needed her in one piece. It did not mean he could not throw her around if he wanted. She would be helpless against him. Maybe I should show her who is boss? As he prepared to make a statement letting her know she was on thin ice, she pulled open the cut again and he winced.
“What the heck are you doing to me?” he asked with a groan, having already forgotten his plan to put her in her place.
“It’s deep. I need to get all the way in there and get out the crud you’ve been ignoring. Then I can rub in the charcoal we made,” Raven explained. Hector shook his head.
“I still don’t get that part. How is it going to make a difference? Other than hurt even more?” he asked.
“Charcoal is a natural antibiotic. You’re fortunate this wound is not more infected. The poultice will help you heal,” Raven said as she let go of him and turned to the black mash on a cloth beside them.
“Witchcraft,” Hector muttered. “Whatever.” Raven stopped what she was doing and looked at him.
“What did you say?” she asked. Hector shrugged.
“You’re a witch, so I’m not surprised you’re using a magic potion on me. I’d expect no less. It is pretty much the only reason I’m going along with this,” he said. Raven cocked her head at him and squinted her eyes.
“Is that why you kidnapped me?” she asked quietly. “Because I’m a witch?” Hector grinned even though his paw still stung.
“Absolutely,” he said.
HANNAH, THE GIRL ONCE named Mouse, moved the puzzle pieces around on the short table where she sat with Samuel across from her. The little girl’s hands were quick and dexterous with the shapes and she quickly was able to slide the wooden parts into the picture of a deer. “All done,” she said looking up at Samuel with a smile of satisfaction. Samuel did not return the smile. This was the third puzzle he had given her, each one more challenging. His research in the colony library, which was intensive over the last twenty-four hours, clearly outlined the developmental psychology of a child. It had not differentiated between male and female children, unfortunately, so to some degree, Samuel had to make educated guesses. His assumption was the girl child would lag behind normal expectations but she needed to be tested so he could gauge if her likely deficiencies were within normal parameters or if he had a problem. To perform his tests, he commissioned the colony’s woodshop to do a rush job on a series of puzzles with etchings of familiar animals the girl would know from the wasteland.
The first was a rabbit. Eight pieces with smooth edges. Hannah had simply sat and stared at the puzzle and Samuel felt grim satisfaction in confirming his guess the female child of the Waste People was not as intelligent as The Creator was giving her credit. Samuel’s earlier dismissal by The Creator over the girl still bothered him. However, it turned out the problem with the puzzle test had nothing to do with the child’s intelligence and was, in fact, a failure on Samuel’s part to explain what he wanted her to do with the pieces. After about a minute of waiting, the girl had taken ahold of two of the pieces and examined them before asking Samuel about them. “What are these?” Hannah asked. It had not occurred to Samuel the child would not know what a puzzle was precisely. With a frown, he had explained the idea and decided to give her a quick demonstration, feeling assured her ability to retain the pattern was well outside her skills. He had been wrong. After seeing the concept, Hannah rebuilt the puzzle Samuel had scrambled back into the shape of a rabbit in seconds.
Okay, so she is able to function at a three-year-old’s intelligence, he thought. That’s reasonable. He moved the first puzzle aside and gave her the second. It was a flower and in twelve slightly more intricate pieces. Without giving her time to study the image, he quickly scrambled it. Hannah laughed as if enjoying the game and moved the pieces back together in less than a minute. “How did you know how to do that?” Samuel had blurted out, shocked at her performance. Hannah looked at him.
“You just showed me,” she replied with a hint of puzzlement. It was obvious she thought Samuel was a little slow for not getting the concept himself.
Samuel gritted his teeth at her reaction. He shook his head. “No, I did not. I showed you the rabbit. Not a flower.”
“I know. But it is the same thing. Just this time it was a flower,” Hannah said. “Are there any more?”
Samuel had given the girl the third puzzle. It was twenty pieces and meant to be challenging. He scrambled it immediately a
fter she saw the image. It was a more detailed picture of a deer. With a smirk, he placed it in front of her. Hannah had furrowed her brow for a moment but then assembled the pieces rapidly. It was all Samuel could do to not lose his temper. The female child was showing cognitive skills at the highest end of a five-year-old. Exactly the age she claimed to be when he asked her earlier. The look of pleasure and satisfaction on the little girl’s face was unacceptable. Samuel swiped the puzzle aside and reached into the box for the fourth and final puzzle. He had at first considered not even having it built, knowing thirty smaller pieces, and of a more detailed image, would be impossible for Hannah to assemble.
Enough of this, Samuel thought. Wanting to put her in her place, he laid the pieces unassembled in front of her. She would have no idea what the image was before she started. It was a jumble of black lines on light colored wooden shapes. Samuel leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. Hannah glanced up at him and held his eyes for a moment. She was no longer smiling. After a pause, she looked down at the pile and picked up one piece after another. She quietly examined each of them before setting them gently back on the table. After all of them were face up, she slowly started to push them around, carefully lining up the black lines and forming a square. Samuel was stunned. He could not believe what he was seeing with his own eyes. This cannot be happening. Yet it was. Hannah assembled the puzzle until the image appeared. It was a bird. When it was finished, Hannah sat back with her hands in her lap.
“I know what this is,” she said. Samuel did not know quite what she meant. He had never doubted she would recognize the animal. The picture was not the part of the test he was concerned about. Still, her statement gave him a sense of unease.
