by Carol Riggs
We talk for a while longer, throwing out more questions and ideas but getting nowhere. At last, darkness falls and we split up. Jeff and Vic show me to a room with a trio of mattresses on the floor, and I claim the empty third mattress and crawl under some blankets.
Quiet settles over the unit, but the day’s images race over and over through my head. I splash through the stream again. Fiery shots blast into trees and ignite. Farrow’s furious voice echoes in my mind: Give it up, Mr. Lawton. You’re needlessly prolonging your agony.
I thrash onto my side and try to think of something else. The even sounds of Jeff and Vic sleeping fill the room, but I can’t seem to match their rhythm.
Peyton’s face floats before me, her lips full, her eyes dark, and her expression complicated. Why didn’t she say good-bye after my banishment? I hope she’s not mad at me. It’s amazing how brave she is. She’s bold and beautiful and clever. Will she try to escape with Aubrie soon or wait until closer to their ceremony? Man. I hope she’s not doing anything reckless.
The sounds of approaching padded feet and clicking toenails drift into my ears. In the dimness of the room’s open doorway, Mick’s dog stands. Watching me. Kenna and I share an extended gaze, and then she pads across the room. Warm air snuffles over my arm like a mother’s touch. A cool nose bumps my shoulder, my chest, my jaw. My tension slips away. I breathe easier.
“Hey, Kenna,” I murmur.
In one fluid motion, she sinks down beside me, resting the underside of her velvety throat on top of one of my hands.
Dogs as companions. Maybe that’s not such a bad thing.
I soak in the peacefulness of her warm, breathing body, and close my eyes.
…
The tip of a dark brown ear interrupts my line of vision when I open my eyes. Morning light fuzzes through the room’s window, revealing a tall clothing cubicle against one wall. Kenna raises her head. She licks my hand and rises to her feet.
Metal clangs in the kitchen. A few meters from me, Jeff stirs and yawns. “Morning already?” he grumbles.
“Your turn to milk the goats.” Vic burrows deeper into his blankets.
Jeff gets up with a drawn-out groan, slips into boots, and shuffles from the room. I throw off my blankets and limp into the kitchen, half smiling as Kenna follows me. What’s up with this dog? Maybe Mick used to sleep on my mattress and Kenna thinks I’m a good substitute.
Daniel cracks eggs into a bowl while Shelly scoops butter into a frying pan. A food cooler hums in the corner. Daniel glances over and does a double-take when he sees Kenna with me. “Well, there’s an inspiring sight. Appears she’s taken a liking to you.”
“Seems like it.” Which is okay with me, as long as she keeps her teeth to herself. “What’s the plan for today?”
“The guys and I are stuck with charger repairs. The rest of you can forage while we all rack our brains about how to deal with the aliens. Tomorrow, Marnica or Blake will do the usual Sanctuary run, and you can tag along.”
“The usual what?” The surprises just keep coming around here.
“Twice a month we boat downriver to the far wooded side of Sanctuary. Mick started it when his brother got banished. They had plotted the idea of slipping supplies out just in case Rusty got banished, and even though they didn’t know he’d end up here, it turned out to be a good plan. Mick made a removable board in the fence and slipped through to bring Rusty and us supplies and rations. Wheat berries and beef, mostly, since we don’t have pasture for wheat or cattle. For our side of the secret swap, we send along sweetener and yeast to make brew. Plus small tools and things that aren’t obvious outer zone contraband.”
My mind is officially blown. Mick Garinger did something useful, helping his banished brother survive. “Where’s Rusty now?”
“He swiped our communal UHV and took off a month before Mick got here, which naturally scorched Mick off something fierce. Three of our guys and two of our girls ran off with Rusty, the ungrateful worms. Last year, after Marnica got banished, Blake dug a tunnel and helped Mick leave supplies at the drop-off area. I’m not sure who’ll be doing it now. Before his ceremony, Blake asked one of his friends to find someone new.”
With Peyton’s knowledge of the brew and tunnel, she might be involved. Then again, she would’ve mentioned it to me if she knew before my ceremony, and she probably wouldn’t take on the job if she plans to escape with Aubrie.
“There are increased guards at the fence,” I say.
Daniel beats the eggs into a yellow froth. “That complicates things. I told Blake we can get by on chicken and rabbit if it’s not safe to rendezvous.”
“Hey,” Shelly says. “Stop jawing and hand me those eggs. The pan’s ready.”
“You are one supremely bossy girl.” Daniel shoves the bowl over. With a giggle, she bumps her hip against his and pours the eggs into the pan.
I rub the back of my neck. Yeah…Shelly flirts with everyone. I search cupboards until I find plates. Soon we’re eating scrambled eggs and drinking goat’s milk, while Sadie, Ajax, Kenna, and another German Shepherd gobble a clumpy mixture from metal bowls on the floor.
After breakfast, Vic loans me pants to replace my chopped ones. They’re a bit baggy, but close enough. I change my bandage. My leg looks better, not too much swelling. Good, I can be useful today. I’m itching for it to be tomorrow so I can get news from Sanctuary, though. We need to make plans. The Machine could be fixed any day, or the girls from my ceremony could be shipped to Refuge for their Testing. I really hope someone has taken over the supply run.
In a half hour, we gather outside. Daniel and Marnica tow a pair of hovercarts from the docking hangar. Blake nabs a tranq pistol from an impressive arsenal spread across a workbench, and he and Marnica set off with Ajax and Sadie in the singed cart. The fourth dog follows Daniel around.
Daniel studies Kenna by my feet. “Jay, you and Shelly can forage with Kenna if she’ll join you. I’ll get you a tranq pistol, extra darts, and a utility belt.”
I climb into the back of the hovercart. Kenna cocks her head to one side.
“Come on, Kenna,” I say, thumping the bottom of the cart. “Ride with me.”
She springs up in a graceful arc, then settles by my good leg. Amazing how she seems to know what I’m saying. I stroke her warm fur while Daniel heads for the docking hangar.
Shelly throws two packs next to me. “Water’s in there. Blake and Marnica went east, so we’ll go south where it’s not as picked over. We need tools, buckets, lud-cells, and shampoo.”
“Why don’t you guys make your own shampoo like we do in the zones?” I ask.
She shrugs. “If there are bottles left from before the War, we might as well use them. It’s not like shampoo goes bad or anything. There’s already plenty of stuff we gotta make from scratch around here.”
Daniel returns and hands me a pistol, along with extra darts and a belt. “Be careful, you two. Dock out of sight so we don’t lose another cart.”
Shelly climbs into the driver’s seat. “Since we know they’re aliens, we should just take laser rifles and shoot them on sight.”
“Don’t you dare, girl,” Daniel says. “That would start an instant war. The aliens outnumber us, and we’d get slaughtered. Especially since they have flamers.”
“We can’t just sit here until they work their way north and find us!” Shelly says. “We’ll be homeless. Or cremated.”
“Don’t worry. I’ve been plotting our relocation.”
Shelly grunts her opinion of that and gets in the cart. We lift into an abrupt hover and sweep away from the unit, past the vacant fields and back through the ghostly dwelling compound. When we reach the colony’s south section, we forage for about an hour, making stops at an old warehouse and a tool center. Kenna trots through the buildings with us like a furry bodyguard.
Outside a huge household supply center, Shelly drinks from her canteen. “Let’s check for shampoo and buckets here. Keep an eye out for other kitchen stuff
.”
“Right.” I pour water into a metal bowl from my pack. Kenna laps while I eye the cart. “We should move this behind that fence over there.”
Shelly shrugs. “The team came yesterday. They don’t scavenge every day.”
“There are three zones with teams. Daniel said to dock out of sight. I’m moving it.” I switch on the cart and maneuver past Shelly, who props her hands on her hips.
“Always the good boy following orders, aren’t you?”
I don’t bother answering. It has more to do with safety than acting like a mindless automaton. I stash the cart and whistle for Kenna like I saw Blake do with Ajax yesterday. Kenna runs over and bumps her head against my good leg, panting up at me. It almost looks like she’s smiling.
“Good girl.” I’m beginning to like dogs.
Shelly walks into the cool building with me. The place smells musty and stale. “Since you’re banished, how are you and Aubrie meeting up? Is she going to do something disgusting to lower her score, or are you speeding back to rescue her like a hunky hero in an adventure story?” She flutters her eyelashes.
“We broke up,” I say. “But yeah, I’m going to make sure she escapes.”
“Wow.” Shelly’s voice loses its mocking tone. “Seriously, you guys aren’t together? You’ve been a couple since…like, forever. You were a pair of perfect love-doves.”
“Not anymore.” So much for us being perfect for each other. We self-combusted after one big argument. Strange, how the same issues of Blake’s banishment and our alien parents blasted Aubrie and me apart, yet drew Peyton and me together. I point at the dim rows of shelves, which hold plastiboard pieces, shattered lud-lamps, dented ration cans, and rodent droppings. “There’s not much useful stuff here.”
“Let’s check farther back.” Shelly motions me down a row. We thread through aisles, tucking spatulas and shaving gel canisters into our packs. After a few minutes, I round a corner and smile.
“Shampoo.” I point to some labeled synthetic bottles, a few on the floor and a half dozen tipped over on the shelves.
“Awesome,” Shelly says. Kenna sniffs the floor, tail wagging. I tuck two bottles into my pack, and I’m reaching for another when Kenna jerks her head. She growls low, her nose quivering.
I freeze near the shelf. “What is it, girl?”
Shelly swears and zips up her pack. “She’s growling. I doubt it’s Blake or Marnica.”
Something thumps near the front of the supply center. A crash follows. Kenna waggles her head as though trying to dislodge something from her ears. She snaps her jaws at the air. Shelly whips out her tranq pistol.
“Thirty seconds,” she hisses. “You gonna shoot your dog, or should I?”
A scavenger team is in the building.
“I—I’ll do it.” Gritting my teeth, I snatch my weapon and fire. The gun pings. Kenna reels. She falls in a heap of fur, twitches twice, and goes motionless.
“Let’s get outta here.” Shelly breaks into a stealthy run for the back of the building.
I start to sprint after her but then I stop. My heart thumps in my ears. My pulse beats in my neck. What about Kenna?
No way. I can’t leave this dog here—the team could find her. They might flame her. Marnica said that happened to one of Daniel’s dogs. And it won’t be long before the team reaches this aisle.
I verify that my tranq is loaded and take a steadying breath.
I’m staying with Kenna. I won’t abandon her.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Faint words reach my ears from the entrance of the center. I keep low behind the shelves where I’m standing with Kenna. I finger the tranq at my waist, wishing I had a laser pistol.
Can’t help that now. If I can do it, moving Kenna would be best. I drop to my knees and ease my arms under her body. I grunt. She’s heavier than she looks. I won’t be able to run very fast while carrying her, and the team might see me. I’ll have to drag her to a safer place.
I grasp her back legs and begin to slide her, when I hear something. Unhurried footsteps. Coming toward the aisle where I’m hiding.
My adrenaline spikes at the same time my muscles turn to mush. I let go of Kenna’s legs. Easing into a crouch, I clutch my pistol. My sweaty hands tremble. There are no good options. If I tranq this team member, his mind link might go blank and alert the other three that someone’s in the building. I’m assuming there are four members, like Sanctuary’s team. I eye the end of the aisle. Will this fake human have his flamer drawn?
I don’t want to die in fiery agony.
But he doesn’t know I’m here. I need to make the first move, to keep my advantage.
I whip around the corner at a right angle to someone wearing dull yellow. Scavenger team coveralls. Blond hair, a beard. The guy isn’t holding his weapon. I shoot and hit him in the ribs with my tranq. Before he can shout a warning, I lunge for his throat and cover his neck with my free hand to smother his words. Air seeps around my fingers from his throat vents. I grip tighter to keep him quiet. I hope like crazy he’s not sending out a mind message.
The man makes a muffled grunt, and we stagger together. His hands claw at mine. Luckily, he’s weak from the tranq effects. He goes open-jawed and glassy-eyed. A second later, he sags beneath me.
We topple to the floor. He collapses facedown and goes motionless.
I stare. What the—?
He can’t be out cold already. The tranq effects aren’t that fast for someone his size, and I didn’t squeeze his neck hard enough to strangle him. Yet he’s clearly out of it. I spot a flame gun sticking out from his side pocket. With care, I work it free.
The other voices grow louder. Talking, chuckling. Approaching. It’s obvious they haven’t received a telepathic message or realized yet their team member is conked out, but it’s only a matter of time.
I stand, steadying my tranq. A blur of motion makes me spin toward the other end of the aisle. I let loose a breath when Shelly appears, scooting up with her finger to her lips. Her gaze lands on the body on the floor, and she stifles a scream.
The man I shot with the tranq is no longer human. His body has been replaced by the crustacean shell and hairy head of its true form. “Dead?” Shelly whispers, her face pale.
I nudge its amber exoskeleton, glad the snouted face and fangs point downward. The body rustles like dry leaves. “Dunno.” It’s hard to tell if he’s unconscious or lifeless, but he doesn’t seem to be breathing.
Shelly braces herself. With her tranq, she motions me to the far end of the aisle while she covers the closer end.
Snatches of conversation carry over the shelves. Booted footsteps grow closer.
“Brother Crandall?” one of the men calls. “Speak up—I can’t sense you anymore.”
I creep away, flamer in one shaky hand and tranq in the other. Shelly and I are outnumbered. I hope I’m guessing right about where the trigger is on this alien fire weapon.
Shelly’s tranq pistol zings. I look back to see a red-haired man stumbling into view near her.
“Flame them, brothers! Crandall is dead,” the man yells, his words fuzzed by the tranquilizer. He raises his flamer in a wobbly aim at Shelly. She shoots first, hitting the shoulder of his gun hand. His weapon crashes to the floor from the impact, and so does he.
Shelly snatches his weapon before he can grab it again, right as a whine sounds out near my end. A wall of fire erupts beside me as a plastiboard display burns. I spin and shoot my own flame gun. The stench of sulfur fills the air. Smoke rolls from the display, as well as from the pile of boxes I hit beyond it.
“Retreat!” a man shouts. “Both brothers are down—the outcasts have their flamers.”
They thump away while the fire crackles and the display falls into a heap of ash. I cough and sidle away.
Shelly grips her pistol. “We need to follow and flame those two so they won’t tell someone in the zones.”
“I’m not leaving Kenna here. And it might already be too late to keep th
is a secret. I don’t know how far their range is, but they can send telepathic messages.”
A shrill whine comes from the entrance. I step onto a shelf and peer over the top. My heart drops to my toes. The men are setting fire to a huge pile of plastiboard and debris.
“They’re starting a fire to block us in,” I tell Shelly. “I hope there’s a back exit.”
“Me, too.” She grabs the other flamer from the floor and aims it at the tranquilized team member who still looks like a red-haired human. “This one’s conscious and breathing. Move Kenna and I’ll flame him.”
“No, wait.” I grab a bottle of shampoo and pour some over his nose and mouth. The chest keeps rising and falling. I douse his throat, and in less than four seconds, the body shudders and goes motionless. Very interesting. I holster my tranq and tuck the flamer in my waistband. “This team member said the first guy, Crandall, was dead. It looks like they breathe from their throat vents instead of their human noses, the same as how they talk. Okay, let’s go. Are the others still by the front doors?”
Shelly checks, then swears. “They’re outside, trashing the cart. So much for hiding it.”
I scoop up Kenna and lumber from the aisle. Shelly races ahead, probably to grab the packs from wherever she left them. The air grows heavy with acrid smoke. Kenna’s fur sticks to my sweaty arms. She’s heavy, slowing me down. I’m glad I didn’t try to move her like this before the scavenger team members knew we were here. I scan the place and spot an exit sign on the wall near the restrooms.
Shelly runs up with the packs. I nod toward the exit, my muscles straining under Kenna’s weight. The air whistles through my clenched teeth.
With her flamer ready, Shelly yanks open the exit door and leaps into the blinding sun. “Clear—go!” she says in a low voice, propping the door ajar.
I barrel through sideways so I don’t hit Kenna’s nose. We head down an alley, up a sloping pavement, and onto the street. After a few more blocks, we dart into a café. My feet crunch over broken glass in the kitchen, and we tuck ourselves into a dusty pantry littered with rusty ration cans. Shelly kicks to clear a spot on the floor.
