Rebel Heart

by Moira Young

  I stare dumbly. He stole it at Hopetown. Snatched it right offa the owner’s head. Emmi stuck the pigeon feather in the band, one night on our way to Freedom Fields.

  It’s Jack’s hat.

  Tommo crouches. He shoos Nero off an picks it up. He stands. Holds it out to me. As he does, it starts to rain. One moment nuthin, then a downpour. Brown, sticky rain from the sulphate cloud above.

  I’m soaked through. Tommo’s hair’s plastered to his head. Filthy rain drips from his nose an chin. I take a couple of steps back. Then I swerve around him. Go past him, walkin fast, goin nowhere. Don’t think, don’t feel, it won’t be true, it cain’t be true.

  My breath’s tight. Throat’s tight. Cain’t breathe. I start to run. My feet slip an slide on the wet ground. I can hear Tommo behind me. The burnin ruins of the Lost Cause hiss an smoke as the rain starts to damp down the flames.

  Jest then, twenny paces in front of me, somebody steps outta the smoke. The rain. The gloom. It’s a woman. She’s leadin a horse, a reddish longcoat.

  She’s got a gun.

  An it’s aimed straight at me.

  I skid to a stop. Tommo too.

  That’s my hat, she says. I kill looters.

  She’s grubby an soaked wet. Her long tangle of blonde curly hair’s pulled back in a tail. She’s got full pink lips. Womanly curves in a long-skirted dress. Eyes smudged dark with sorrow. There’s a scarf tied over her hair, pulled low on her forehead. Her drawn face tells the tale. She ain’t known the mercy of sleep fer a long time. She’s heart-stoppin beautiful.

  Yer Molly, says Tommo. Ike’s Molly.

  Ike’s dead, she says.

  Where’s Jack? I says.

  Jack? she says. She frowns.

  I snatch the hat from Tommo. This is his, I says. Where is he? Gawdammit, I yell, where’s Jack?

  I dunno, she says, I ain’t seen him since – hey, who are you?

  This is his hat! I says. Where is he?

  He left it behind, she says.

  He – he ain’t here, I says.

  Nobody here but me, she says.

  The rain begins to stop. Bit by bit.

  He ain’t here, I whisper. He left it behind. Tears start to leak outta my eyes. I swipe ’em away.

  I did tell him it was a crummy hat, she says, but . . . it ain’t worth cryin over. As she’s speakin, she’s starin at me. Lowerin her gun. Leavin her horse an walkin towards me. She stops when she’s a foot away. She’s lookin at the heartstone.

  Ohmigawd. She whispers it, like she cain’t believe what she’s seein. She lifts her eyes to mine. Jack’s heartstone, she says. She reaches out. Pushes my sheema back from my face. Her fingers brush my birthmoon tattoo. They’re tremblin. I can smell the drink on her.

  Yer Saba, she says. What’re you doin here? Where’s Jack?

  Whaddya mean? I says. He sent fer me. He’s in trouble. I got a message to meet him here at the full moon.

  But . . . how? I don’t unnerstand. I thought he was with you, she says. I mean. . .

  Saba! It’s Lugh.

  Emmi! calls Tommo. It’s Molly!

  Molly an me stare at each other as Lugh an Emmi an Tracker come runnin up.

  Molly! Emmi shrieks. She dives at Molly, an flings her arms around her waist.

  Molly holds her hands high. Hey, hey, who the hell’re you? Slim?

  Slim’s makin his way towards us, bandaged up an leanin on Maev. His face is pasty an sweaty.

  Ohmigawd, Slim, what happened? Molly puts Emmi aside an rushes over to him.

  Tonton shot me on the causeway, he says. Guess they didn’t like the dress.

  She looks us over. How’d you run into these? she says.

  He puts his one good arm around her shoulders an hugs her. I got hijacked, he says. A long story. You okay?

  Yeah, she says. I bin espectin it. The Lost Cause is the last bastion of immorality an low livin. I’m sure they would of got to me sooner, but they know damn well I ain’t got no customers. They chased or killed off all the rats an the Stewards don’t drink or whore. I’m hardly worth the trouble, wouldn’t you say? She gives him a funny little smile.

  Well, that’s the delivery off, then, he says.

  Molly’s eyes flick over us. Her face closes.

  Oh, you can speak free, he says. They found the weapons.

  We’ll go to the fallback plan, she says. You deliver to Bram and Cassie.

  I knew it! Maev jabs her finger at Lugh. There is a resistance! He runs weapons an the Lost Cause is a drop. Am I right or am I right?

  You ain’t wrong, says Slim.

  I grab Molly’s arm. Molly, I says, please, why’d you say you thought Jack was with me?

  He said he was goin after you, she says. When he came to tell me about Ike. He was gonna go meet you. You was headed west, right?

  When did you see him? I says. How long ago?

  I . . . I dunno, she says. A couple months, I guess, I—

  Molly! C’mon! I give her a shake. This is important!

  As I shake her, her headscarf starts to slip back from her forehead. I can see the pink, raised ridges of a wound startin to heal. I slide it off.

  She’s bin branded. Right in the middle of her forehead.

  W.

  I know it from Hopetown. The painted ladies an boys of Paradise Lane who’d lie down with a stranger fer chaal or hooch or a handful of beads. That’s how the Tonton marked ’em.

  W.

  Whore.

  We sit on upturned boxes an such beside the Cosmic. A tin barrel of Molly’s wormwood whisky survived bein blown in the sky. We all take a drink, even Emmi. It’s killer hooch, worser’n Ike’s pine sap vodka, an that was enough to blind you. It slices down my gullet like white pain.

  How many of ’em? I says to Molly.

  Two, she says.

  Tonton, says Maev.

  Molly nods. There warn’t nobody in the tavern but me an Jack. After he told me about Ike, I – Jack’s th’only person I know who’d travel so far to deliver bad news. I don’t think I could of stood it if it was anybody else but him.

  We’re silent. I only jest met Molly. I don’t know her, but we’re bound together, her an me, through Jack an Ike. My heart cleaves to hers. It hurts on her account.

  I told him not to, she says, but he stuck around to make sure I was okay. Then these two showed up. Tonton. Jack bein Jack, he . . . tried to talk us outta trouble but . . . two of them, one of him . . . they beat him pretty bad.

  They beat him, I says. My skin runs hot an cold as I picture it.

  Yeah, she says. Then, uh . . . one of ’em stayed with him while . . . uh . . . while the other one, uh—

  Tears suddenly fill her eyes, spill down her cheeks. Sorry, she says, scrubbin at ’em. Afterwards, they branded me.

  Emmi jumps up. Goes over an hugs her. Don’t cry, Molly, she says. It’s okay. We’re here now.

  Emmi don’t unnerstand. She’s too little. Molly’s pain, so heavy, so thick, fills the air till I cain’t hardly breathe. I glance at Maev, tears in my eyes. She’s starin at Molly, her jaw set.

  Slim’s sat next to Molly, holdin her hand, squeezin it from time to time. Nuthin could ever ruin yer beauty, he says. He kisses her forehead, right on the dreadful brand.

  She gasps a tearful little laugh. Yer such a liar, she says. Such a kind, dear liar. She wraps the scarf around her head agin an starts to tie it. After they left, she says, I . . . I jest wanted to be alone. She looks at me. I told Jack to go after you, she says. To follow his heart. I made him swear.

  What did he say? I whisper.

  He promised he would, she says.

  I ain’t seen him, I says.

  Seems I was the last to see him, says Maev.

  You? says Molly.

  He gave her the hear
tstone to give to Saba, says Emmi.

  An he jest happened to be ridin with the Tonton at the time, says Lugh.

  What? says Molly. No. Jack would never ride with the Tonton. Never. I know him.

  Maybe you don’t know him very well, says Lugh.

  I know that I don’t like yer tone, she says. Jack is my friend. A very old, dear friend. I won’t hold with you sayin things about him that ain’t true.

  Lugh looks away.

  He was with ’em, Molly, says Maev. I seen him with my own eyes. Dressed like ’em an all.

  They must of captured him, she says.

  That’s what I say, I says.

  He was free, says Maev, not fettered.

  Molly frowns. Takes a long drink from her tin an pours herself another. She catches Tommo starin at her. He ain’t took his eyes offa her all this time.

  What’s yer problem? she says.

  You shouldn’t drink so much, he says.

  What’s it to you what I do?

  Ike wouldn’t like it, he says.

  Whadda you know, anyways?

  I’m Tommo, he says. Ike took me in. He talked about you. Told me about you. He said him an you an me . . . we’d be a family.

  There ain’t no gawdamn family, she says. Ike’s dead.

  He called me son, says Tommo.

  Is that so? she says. Well, don’t look to me to call you son.

  Hard words. Hurtful words. Tears start to Tommo’s eyes. They spill down his cheeks. He dashes ’em away an sets his jaw not to cry.

  That was mean, I says.

  Go to hell, says Molly. She’s drained her tin. She pours another.

  You got no call talkin to Tommo like that, says Em.

  Hush, Emmi, says Lugh.

  I won’t hush, says Em. You ain’t th’only one who loved Ike. You ain’t th’only one who misses him. An it ain’t Tommo’s fault Ike got killed. He tried to save Ike. He loved him jest the same as you.

  Molly’s starin into her mug. Not the same as me, she says. Not the gawdamn same as me! Her voice rises to a yell. She flings her mug wildly. We only jest duck in time.

  Molly stops herself. She’s breathin high an fast. Fightin herself. Tryin not to fall apart. She gives us a tight little smile. I’m sorry, she says to Tommo. I had no right to speak to you like that.

  He nods, not meetin her eyes.

  Now what? says Maev.

  Molly looks at Slim, nursin his shoulder, his face drawn with pain. We’ll go to Bram an Cassie’s, she says. Hide the weapons. We’ll git Slim fixed up proper an work out what to do next.

  I ain’t goin nowhere, I says. Jack told me to meet him here an that’s what I’m gonna do.

  That’s only what you think, says Lugh. You don’t know fer sure. What’re you gonna do, sit here all night? Wait fer him to turn up with the Tonton so he can hand you over?

  Jack wouldn’t do that, says Molly.

  Whether he would or not ain’t to the purpose, says Slim. Not at this precise moment, anyways. The point is, it ain’t safe to be here. Not fer Molly, not fer Saba, not fer none of us. We got four dead Stewards on our tab, not to mention one blowed-up causeway. If any of them Tonton lived to tell the tale, they’ll be lookin fer the Cosmic. Bram an Cassie run a safe house. That’s where we all need to be.

  The Tonton only know about you, I says. You an the Cosmic. Not us.

  Hey, says Maev, we wouldn’t be here without Slim. He took a hit fer us. Don’t that mean nuthin to you?

  Okay, then, the rest of yuz go, I says. I’ll wait here fer Jack.

  Yer faith in yer friend does you credit, says Slim. But I’ll tell you this. If he’s got hisself mixed up with the Tonton, he ain’t master of his own fate. You’ll serve him better by makin sure the same don’t happen to you.

  You ain’t listenin, I says. He’s in trouble, he needs my help, that’s why he sent fer me. As I say it, I shoot a hard look at Lugh, darin him to bad-mouth Jack agin.

  Even more reason to go to Bram’s, says Slim. He’ll know what’s best to do. He knows these parts. He knows the Tonton.

  They all look at me, wait fer my answer. My gut tells me to dig in my heels. If it was only me I had to think of, I’d dig in, no question. But my heart an head tell me I got Maev an Tommo an Emmi an Lugh to consider. They’re in danger jest by bein here. Because of me. I look at Slim, wounded on my account. At Molly. Ike’s Molly.

  How far to this . . . Bram’s place? I says.

  Not far, says Molly. Three hours due north.

  All right, I says, but I gotta leave him a message. Tell him where to find me.

  I know jest the thing, says Molly. C’mon.

  With her in charge, we gather up bits of the Lost Cause. Startin with the tavern sign at one end, we arrange it all alongside the northbound road in a line. But not so’s you’d notice. Unless you was lookin, that is.

  We need somethin to finish it off, she says. She looks at me. I don’t s’pose—?

  Jest as she says it, Nero comes flappin over. He moves slow an low. Jack’s hat dangles from his beak, held by the hatband. He lands. Drops it in ezzackly the right spot. He squawks with delight at his own cleverness.

  If that don’t beat all, says Molly.

  I crouch. I anchor the hat with a couple of rocks. I touch it lightly.

  See you soon, Jack, I says.

  Before we leave, Molly goes to fetch her horse, Prue. Also a packed sack of necessaries she’s kept hid aginst the day the Tonton would come to run her off. Then she does somethin else.

  She goes to a certain spot, a little ways from the tavern an stables. Like any other lonely spot on this blasted plain, but fer a pile of rocks. A small cairn. She kneels beside it a long moment, her head bowed.

  We look to Slim fer a reason why. He shakes his head an shrugs. When she rides up to join us, you can tell from her eyes that she’s had a bit of a boo. We make like we don’t notice.

  So, as we git ready to move out, there’s me an Molly on horseback. Lugh’s drivin the Cosmic, with Tommo beside him. After their bad start, Moses took aginst Maev an won’t budge one inch if she’s anywhere in sight. Her an Em an Tracker’s gonna travel in back with Slim. They’ll do their best to keep him easy, but ridin on top of guns ain’t a good ride fer nobody, let alone a wounded man. But he slams back a half-campbell of some thin green liquid – it’ll blunt the pain, he says – an climbs in without complaint. We take one last look at the tavern at the crossroads. The fire’s settled down to a low, steady burn of what’s left.

  Well, that’s that, says Molly. No more Lost Cause. Me, my father, my grampa, his pa. I’m the last in a long line of deluded fools that stuck with this place. Misplaced optimism, that’s what runs in my family. Always lookin fer a break in the clouds. Even in the storm belt.

  As we turn our faces north an ride out, we pass Jack’s hat. All my hopes set on one battered old hat. Misplaced optimism. I guess it runs in my family too.

  We hear signs of life long before we see ’em.

  The faint strains of a junkband racket through the night. Down the road an over the trees. Foot-stompin music. The sound of voices whoopin. People havin fun.

  Sounds like a party, says Molly. That’s strange. The Tonton don’t allow fun an it’s after curfew. I wonder what’s goin on.

  Her an me move up next to Lugh an Tommo. Go slow, she tells Lugh. Hang back, stay outta sight till we find out what’s what. Slim! She bangs on the side of the Cosmic. Somethin’s goin on at Bram an Cassie’s.

  It ain’t long before the farm comes into view.

  Whoa, Moses, Lugh says softly.

  We stop. We’re at a bend in the road. Cedar woods on both sides. Tracker leaps outta the back an Em an Maev follow. They give Slim a careful hand down, but still he grimaces with pain. He’s pale an drawn. The journey’s bin hard on him.
/>   Jest ahead lies the farm. Sprawlin fields in every direction with a big, square, hard dirt farmyard standin next to the road. A decent-sized house of tyre an mud with a Wrecker junk roof stands one side. A lantern shines in the glass window. The party’s goin on in the barn at the top end of the yard. The big doors stand open. Light an music an noise spill out into the night. A couple dozen carts with their horses parked up in a friendly muddle any which way.

  We could take one of them an be gone in no time, says Lugh.

  Ferget it, I says.

  The mournful call of a pigeon comes from the woods to our right. Slim holds up a hand to hush us. The pigeon ha-roos agin. Slim makes answer.

  Without a sound, a man slips outta the trees. A mountain of a man. Emmi gasps an ducks behind Maev.

  A mask hides the top half of his face. It’s a rough, savage thing of corn husks an bark. Not what you wanna see creepin out from the woods at night. Tracker growls.

  The man holds his clenched fist to his chest. Long life to the Pathfinder, he says.

  May he rot in hell, says Slim. Evenin, Bram. What’s with the mask? Sounds like a party at yer place. Didn’t think that kinda thing was allowed.

  Special occasion, says Bram. First corn harvest in Sector Nine. Land’s fruitful around here, thanks to the hard-workin folk the Tonton took it from. He takes off his mask an starts walkin towards us. Like the dress, Slim. Who you got with you? Is that Molly?

  Hey, Bram, she says.

  Bram’s got a thatch of dark hair, a thick neck an eyes like a sleepy raccoon. He might have twenny two year on him. He’s got the black quartered-circle brand in the centre of his forehead.

  What’re you doin here? he says. What the hell happened to you two? He frowns as he sees Slim’s bandaged shoulder, as he takes in the soot smudges on Molly’s face, the scorches on her clothes. Ohmigawd, they burned you out at last, he says. He helps her down from her horse, gives her a hug. You okay?

  Yeah, she says. The Tonton shot Slim. We need Cassie to look at his shoulder.

  Ran into ’em on the causeway, says Slim. Then we blew it up.

  Bram whistles. His glance flicks over the rest of us. Who’re all of these?

  Friends, says Molly.