Desolated

by Lou Cadle

  They’d be okay, eventually. So would Joan and her family. So would the young people, except Yasmin. And so would Sierra.

  What other choice did they have? The farm and hens couldn’t stop for a grief time-out. And they had to decide what to do about the inevitable retaliation.

  AS IT TURNED OUT, THEY waited until after they’d eaten to question the soldier. He wasn’t fed, though she had taken him water once and held a cup while he drank. Why waste food on someone they knew wouldn’t survive the day?

  They ate in shifts, and Sierra played hostess, eating a bite here and there on the go. The grieving families didn’t have much of an appetite, but Sierra insisted everyone eat at least a few bites.

  The freed prisoners from Payson were hungry, and more than one asked for seeds of some vegetable that they didn’t have the variety of. Sierra promised to make up a packet of seeds for both groups before they left.

  She nudged Joan to try another bite. I’m channeling Kelly, she thought, more than once.

  Her father was somber as he sat with Joan, whose swollen face and red eyes told the story of how much she had cried. He also encouraged her to eat. Of the family, only Nina had any appetite. Made sense. She was still growing, and her body was demanding sustenance.

  When everyone had eaten, Sierra carried a big bowl of boiled eggs to the Quinn root cellar to keep them cool for later or for tomorrow. Dev and Zoe worked in their garden for a time after they rose from the table, pulling out spent plants and harvesting the last of their winter squash and carrots. She was glad they had each other. The gardens were nearly done for this growing season. The hot weather was on its way, and only grain would come in then. For a month, there would be no new food except a few Jerusalem artichokes, and bits and pieces for the hens, and the neighborhood’s people would eat from their stores.

  No one wanted to work outside when it was 125 in the shade, and worse in the sun where they did their work. So that hottest month or two was a time of rest each year, of slow and careful work in the shade, like honing blades and patching worn clothes.

  Sierra was aware of how her own mind worked. She was hanging on to thoughts about anything but the people they had lost. She’d do that alone tonight—or almost alone, in bed. She’d have to apologize to Georgia in advance for the crying she would no doubt be doing. Or maybe she’d sit alone on the deck and cry as much as she wanted.

  Thinking of crying was making her tear up. She made herself stop. Too much to do yet today.

  The younger people did all the dishes, though one of them was with Yasmin at all times. When she felt like everything was under control with the meal, Sierra went to sit with her and Luke for a few minutes.

  “How’s it going?” she asked the girl.

  “Dying,” Yasmin said. She coughed weakly. A bit of bloody froth came out of her mouth.

  “I’m sorry,” Sierra said. She didn’t deny it and try to tell her she’d be fine. “I’m sorry we don’t have anything to ease your pain.”

  Luke said, “You don’t know that, Yasmin. Hang on. It might get better.”

  Sierra doubted that very much. She’d seen death a few times now. No one had surprised her by coming back from a terrible injury. Well, Mark’s father, Jackson, was a bit of a surprise. He’d been shot close to the spine, and at first they thought he might end up partly paralyzed because of it. But he hadn’t been. Sierra had still driven down to that neighborhood occasionally back then, when the electric car still worked and they had abundant energy from the turbines. She’d even lived there a few weeks, in an exchange of skills and knowledge.

  But this was different. She was no doctor, but Yasmin was struggling for each breath. Sierra’s heart went out to the girl. Sierra said to Luke, “If you want a break, I can sit here for a few minutes more.”

  “I’m just going to grab water,” Luke said. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Yasmin,” Sierra said when he was gone. “If you want me to end this for you, I will. I don’t want to, but I can tell it hurts you terribly.” She regretted the offer the moment she had made it. She’d never killed someone she cared for. But if Yasmin begged her to, she would. She’d been the one to kill the dog Jasper, back when the dog had lost the ability to walk. Yasmin would be much, much harder. But she had a rifle now, and a bullet, and just look at the girl. The agony was so obvious. Sierra thought she herself might want to end it all in the same situation.

  “No,” Yasmin said. “I want.” And that was all she had the wind for.

  Sierra felt cold relief that her spontaneous offer had been rejected. She had enough new nightmare fuel from today. It was a relief not to add that too. “Okay. Whatever you want. Have someone get me if you change your mind.”

  Yasmin shook her head. Luke returned then, holding a mug of water.

  “Okay,” Sierra said. “I’ll talk to you later.” She got up, relieved to walk away from the sight of death and pain, shocked at herself for what she’d offered, and guilty at how relieved she was Yasmin had said no.

  The prisoner. It was time. They had to get all the information out of him that they could.

  Chapter 22

  “How many?” Dev said. They had been questioning the prisoner for almost two hours. At first he had refused to say anything. They were torturing him, but in a passive way. He wanted water, and they refused to give it to him.

  Sierra had been the toughest, as usual. “For more water, you have to earn it,” she had said. And she looked fierce when she said it.

  The man had begun to talk ten minutes after that. It was a blistering hot day, one of those days Dev was relieved they didn’t have a working thermometer, for surely knowing the numbers would make it feel worse. And while the afternoon was wearing on, the heat was not letting up.

  “I don’t know.”

  “This has to have happened before,” Dev said. “Has to have. Not everybody rolled over for you for however many years you’ve been doing that.”

  “Almost no one owns ammunition anymore. We’re good with a ten to one ratio, with our weapons and others having none. One of us, ten of you. No problem.” He thrust his chin out. Senseless posturing.

  “So what do you do when you twelve come on a gathering of more than a hundred people?” Pilar said. Then he turned to the Payson representative, a woman about Zoe’s age named Vivian. “How did they control you?”

  “We don’t have twelve great weapons of any sort,” Vivian said. “You guys have nearly as many armed as we do, and you have the crossbow, which we don’t.” She shrugged. “I mean, I maybe shouldn’t even say that much, but we have a crew of hunters, and only they have weapons, not that we find much game anymore. We ran ourselves low on gun ammo years ago, getting food. And we had to drive off one gang of a dozen marauders about eight years back, which spent the rest.”

  “Not these guys?”

  “No. A really terrible bunch, hardly better than savages, but bloodthirsty,” Vivian said. “But these twelve guys with guns? We talked about jumping them, wondering how many we’d lose if we tried wrestling a gun away from one. But no one had the heart. I mean, we all suffered a lot of loss the past twelve years. Plus the older ones lost so many of the men, back at the beginning. Two epidemics. Who was going to jump forward and be the first one to attack an armed man?” She shrugged. “Maybe we should have, despite the guaranteed losses”

  “I don’t blame you,” Pilar said to her. “We didn’t fight them until today, after all.”

  “How many?” Dev said again to the man. “How many will come when they realize you aren’t coming back?”

  “I don’t know,” he said.

  “I suspect you do. Okay, then how long before they come?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “When were you expected back?”

  “We were supposed to build the highway.”

  Finally, some progress. “So in three weeks, if you’re not back, what happens? Do they send a scout? Do they send an army? Do they give up on you and write you o
ff?”

  “Never,” he said, as if his pride had been stung.

  “How many will come?”

  He shook his head.

  Sierra said, “Look. I know you’re thirsty. All it takes to get water is to tell us.” She had a glass with water waiting in her hand. When he didn’t answer this time, she poured it out onto the ground, something none of them would do normally, but Dev couldn’t count it as wasted.

  The prisoner looked at the wet ground, and then back up at Sierra. “Twelve. Just like we were. Twelve.”

  Dev and Sierra shared a glance. She didn’t believe him.

  Neither did Dev. But the man was saying something, so they’d come back around to this.

  “What’s the best weapon you have?”

  He didn’t hesitate. “After the rifles, the wagon. I mean, it protected us against arrows. Even against .22s shot from any distance.”

  “How many have had .22s?” That was interesting.

  “Only one. A single family. They didn’t hold out long.”

  “That’s the best weapon you had,” Sierra said, “though it was defensive. What we’re interested in is what is the best weapon the army has that is mobile and offensive? Do you have rocket launchers? Missiles? Grenades?”

  He shook his head again, not an answer to that question but a refusal to answer. “I’m thirsty,” he said again. “I told you something. I deserve water.”

  Sierra looked fierce. “You lied to us. When you tell us the truth, you’ll get water.”

  “When I tell you the truth, I’ll be dead.”

  Dev didn’t know what to say to that. They couldn’t keep him and feed him and guard him, and they couldn’t let him go to make his way back. Though without a weapon to intimidate and force people to give him food, he’d probably die of starvation before he arrived at wherever he was headed. He made that the next question. “Where are you headquartered?”

  No answer.

  After a full minute of silence, Pilar said, “There were military bases all over Arizona. I wish we had a paper map still. We could look at them. Let me think.” They all waited a minute for him to go on. “Everything I can think of was down south. Too hot to survive there by now. Yuma, a base north of Ajo, Tucson, Phoenix.”

  Dev missed his father with a sharp pang. He’d probably be able to rattle them off by name and year they were established. “I remember going to a museum in Tucson as a kid. Aircraft museum.”

  Pilar snapped his fingers. “Fort Huachuca. That was another. Army intelligence maybe?” He shrugged. “That might be it. It had more elevation than Tucson, though it was flatter, a high plateau between mountain ranges. And there was a river down there years ago. Not sure about anymore.”

  Dev had been looking at their prisoner, who hadn’t reacted to any of those names. “I don’t think so. Was there anything over by Prescott? Up near Flag?” He was asking Pilar but looking at their prisoner, hoping for a sign they had guessed right.

  “There were military telescopes up there, Navy, I think. By I can’t imagine they were guarded by a lot of armed troops.”

  The man’s eyebrow twitched.

  Dev filed that reaction away but changed the topic again. “There’s no way if they thought twelve men were defeated they’d send only twelve the next time. Is it twenty-four? Fifty? Do you have fifty to spare? Or if they lose twelve, do they write the area off as too dangerous?”

  “We don’t give up territory,” the man said.

  Pilar said, sounding as if he’d finally reached the end of his patience, “We are not your territory. These are our homes, our farms.”

  “Not your highway.”

  “More than it is yours,” Pilar said, matter-of-fact. His control hadn’t slipped far, or for long. “Look, son, we don’t need your government, and we don’t want you.”

  “We’ve heard that before,” he said. “And it never mattered before. It won’t now.”

  “So they will send people after you,” Dev said.

  “You owe me water,” the man said. “I’ve told you stuff. I want water.”

  Dev looked at Sierra over the man’s head and raised his eyebrows. She shrugged. “Fine by me.”

  “Half a glass,” Dev said. “No more. And we all need to talk alone. I’m thirsty too, so down by the well is as good a place as any. Zoe, will you guard the prisoner?” She had her bow at hand, and he wanted someone with a weapon to do it.

  Curt said, “I will.”

  “We won’t make any major decisions without your approval,” Dev said.

  “I know that,” Curt said. “But remember, we should retrieve what food Joan cached before nightfall. Animals might get it.”

  “Right,” Dev said. No reason to risk having animals steal their food. They had little enough to waste, especially right now, after feeding the freed prisoners from Payson and the military men once.

  As they walked down to the well, Vivian said, “I’d like all my people to be in on this discussion, if you don’t mind.”

  “I don’t mind at all,” Dev said, looking around at his own people. All accounted for except Curt and Wanda, who was the young person sitting with Yasmin currently.

  When Vivian came back with the grave-diggers, she said, “They’re nearly done with the graves.”

  Dev said, “On behalf of all of us, thank you for doing that. I know it’s hot work.” His grief for his father was still there, threatening to overtake his mind and will, but he had to do this first. Question the prisoner. Bury his father. Burn the enemy’s bodies. Tonight, he’d let himself collapse.

  A man spoke up. “It’s the least we can do. You removed a threat to us.”

  “Part of a threat,” Dev said. “Sierra, would you summarize what we heard from the prisoner?”

  “Not much,” Sierra said. She explained what they had asked and how he had answered.

  Dev said, “I think they are up near Flagstaff. Just a hunch from watching his face when Pilar was naming bases. Do any of you know of an old military base up there?” It was a long shot. They were mostly around Zoe’s age.

  A young man spoke up. “I can ask my grandfather. He was in the military and might know. He’s not so good on remembering recent stuff, but the old things he knows really well.”

  “That’s good, and thanks.”

  Sierra said, “I wish we still had a working car, or even a bike—some way to communicate that didn’t take more than a day’s walking between our three groups.”

  No one spoke up saying they had any way to communicate more quickly. That didn’t surprise Dev. Mechanical objects had fallen apart faster than they’d anticipated, and machinery without oil to help it run seized up, and chronic heat warped parts and flattened tires. If anyone in the state had a functioning bicycle, they were lucky, and they’d probably carved wooden tires for it.

  “If they have a hundred spare men to come up here and retaliate, then we might have to leave,” Pilar said. “We can’t fight off a hundred armed men.”

  “They won’t just retaliate against you,” Vivian said. “It’ll be all of us.”

  Dev felt the mood shift. The released prisoners were looking with new expressions at his people. Before they could get to a place of real resentment, he said, “We were not going to let our women be raped. Or our young men. That was the bottom line. Them stealing our food? We might have been able to survive that. But when they wanted to take Yasmin, that was it. Vivian, I think you’d understand that.”

  Slowly, she nodded. “I just wish....” She sighed. “I wish they’d have never shown up is what I wish. Life was hard, but we were living. We had water. We had food. We even have better clothes than you guys, no offense.” She had on a loose cotton shirt that looked as if it had once been a sheet, two square pieces sewn together at the shoulders and sides.

  “Makes sense,” Misha said. “You had the stores, and when you had the epidemics, you had empty houses with other goods to use.” Her face was swollen from all the crying she’d been doing. Dev made a m
ental note to make himself available for her to talk to. She’d seen violence that day, someone she loved cut down in front of her eyes. It’d take a long time to get past that and he wanted to offer to help in any way he could.

  Then he felt a wash of gratitude that Sierra had kept him from going down to see his father’s body. She was right. There was no reason to put that image into his mind, and every reason not to.

  “I remember you,” Troy said to Vivian. “We were in school together. I had lighter hair back then. I was way younger, in the kids’ section. And really short. And always in trouble because I couldn’t sit down.”

  “I remember,” Vivian said. “I actually remember a few of you by sight.”

  Mark said, “Back to the topic of retaliation. You feel sure they’re going to do that?”

  “He seemed to think so,” Dev said, pointing in the direction of the prisoner. “They won’t get their men back, and they won’t just let that go.”

  Sierra said, “I have another topic to bring up.”

  Dev gestured that she should go on.

  “We’ll get whatever we can from this guy, but then, he has to die.” She looked around at the crowd of thirty faces. “If any of you wants to do it, I’ll be happy if you volunteer. Otherwise, I guess that’ll be up to me.”

  Dev said, “We should draw lots.”

  Zoe said, “I have the bow. I can do it from a distance. We can’t waste a bullet. Sierra, you’d have to do it with a knife. And I’d rather you didn’t need to do that.”

  “Anyone else want to volunteer? No? Okay, then I promised him water. I’ll go get him some,” Sierra said.

  Just then Brandie walked up. Dev hadn’t noticed she wasn’t here. “Yasmin is gone. I think. Misha, you might want to—” And then she broke and started crying, putting her hands over her face and turning away.

  Troy went to her, gathered her into his arms, and rocked her gently. Slowly, the other young people gathered around those two, some holding hands or linking arms.

  Dev cared for Yasmin too, but he held back. They were close, those eight. They needed to have a moment together. “You dug two graves here?” he said to the Payson group, keeping his voice low.