Fugitive

by T. K. Malone

  “You okay with blood?” she asked.

  “Always was.”

  “’cept no one knows what your ‘always was’ actually was, now do they?”

  Teah drew in a deep breath in acceptance. “No. Sorry.”

  “I’m going to pull it out. You squeeze ‘n hold it tight, and then I’ll stitch. If he’s bust anything inside, he’s done fer, anyways. This is about as good as it gets up here. If he lasts the night, we’ll get him to Morton at dawn,” and at that she pulled the wood from the wound and the blood flowed out. “Quick, pinch it.”

  Teah did what she could while Hannah swiftly closed the wound with her needle and thread. The blood flow gradually stemmed as Teah pressed on the wound with a fresh cloth. When finished, Hannah fished in a bag she’d put to one side and pulled out a flask. “Drink?” and she passed it over. Taking a long slug, Teah waited until it had finished burning her throat before handing the flask back.

  “I’m a gridder,” she said, wanting to start the conversation.

  “I know,” Hannah whispered. “We all do. That was never the problem.”

  “So, what was?”

  “You.” Hannah pushed herself to her feet and went over to Clay, now sitting in an old armchair by Saggers’ fireplace; the fire just about taking. “Took a few years, but we knew trouble would find you. Living up here, we’re not all hiding from something. Saggers think we are, but some of us actually love it. So, anything that might disturb our peaceful existence is always a thing to be wary of. Like I said: it took a few years, but trouble caught up with you in the end, like trouble has a habit of doing.”

  “But—”

  “But nothing. It’s the way I see it, and the men don’t have the stones to tell you; never have had. You’re mighty pretty and pretty imposing. They ain’t not got the stones, so, I’ll say it myself: you either spill or go, simple.”

  “Spill what? You already know I’m a gridder.”

  Hannah ruffled Clay’s hair and crouched down beside him. “No way to bring up a kid, all alone. What if I told you a man came through town today. If I told you he had a truck stacked with gasoline. Now, I’m sure you don’t know quite what that means, but us folk here do. Do you know how much gas costs?”

  Teah shook her head.

  “Gas costs more than a casual windfall, more than a winning hand. And a cartful? Well, that’s a snitch. That’s Grid money. I remember Saggers, here, telling my husband about this man with mad eyes who was asking after a woman and a kid. Remember it like it was yesterday. Funny, though, but the man driving the truck had mad eyes, but I suppose there’s more than one of those about.”

  She returned to Saggers and knelt beside him again. “Shithole, this place; complete shithole.” Hannah rifled through Saggers’ coat and found a roll of his smokes. She pushed a couple out and threw one to Teah. “It could use the touch of a woman,” she said.

  Teah lit her smoke and breathed it in deeply. A rock and a hard place sprang to mind, Hannah’s bargain plain to see. But what choice did she really have? Her thoughts shot off, away from the mountains and across the burnished plains, beyond the slurry of the wastelands to where a city lay. A city where Zac and Connor still lived and a dream lingered, her dream that someday she might get to see them again.

  Hannah slumped down beside her. “Funny thing about kids: they’re the most important thing in your little world, but then somehow that world seems to revolve around men. Tell me about Clay’s father.”

  Teah reached for the flask again, then told Hannah everything about Zac. Clay’s ears perked up, as they always did. She told her how she’d escaped the city, how she’d travelled in the old broken pipelines under the wastelands, told her of her trials in the valley, in the woodlands, told her of Marge, of Roy, and Lester. Told her everything she could remember. All the while she was talking, Hannah just smoked and lay back, and when she was done, there was silence at first.

  “But,” Hannah finally said, taking back her flask, “it wasn’t quite that simple—simple in a manner of sayin’—now was it?”

  Teah stubbed her smoke out on the wooden planks of the floor and threw the butt in the fire. “What?”

  “Tell me: why’s this man messing with you?”

  “Because I saved his life,” Teah muttered.

  “Sure as damn did,” Saggers mumbled from the floor. “She sure as damn did.”

  “You awake there, Saggers?” Hannah asked.

  “Can sniff your whiskey and my weed.”

  “Shouldn’t be drinking whiskey, not with that hole in yer side,” Hannah told him, her voice somehow happier. She got to her feet. “Well, I gotta get myself off. I’ll send Trip and Ray up in the morning. They’ll bring you some bedding and clear the basement. That’s where you’ll stay,” she directed at Teah. “Though when I say ‘Stay’, I mean hide. If that crazy-eyed man snitched on you, then the bounty hunters will come, and not all of them use the trail.”

  “You think he might have?” Teah asked, but she wasn’t that green; she knew he would have. A truckload of gasoline, and with one spare to settle an old score, Hannah had to be right; that wasn’t card money. Hannah lingered by the doorway, staring straight through Teah.

  “Oh, and you can tell me about the juicy bits another day,” and she laughed.

  Saggers started laughing, too, until it quickly turned into a cigarette-fuelled coughing fit.

  “Told them all,” he said, once Hannah had gone. “I told ‘em down the valley. I said to them: ain’t no way I run Aldertown. Ain’t no way. Never have. And do you know what they asked me? They asked: ‘Who does?’, and I said a woman, a badass woman, a woman who takes no shit from anyone, and do you know what they said to that?”

  “No.”

  “They said: ‘What? The one with the cattleman?’”

  “And you said ‘No’?”

  Saggers propped himself up, wincing at the effort. He made to reach for his smokes, but Teah grabbed and lit one for him. “And you said ‘No’?” she again asked.

  “No,” he said, taking a draw. “I said: ‘Not yet’.”

  6

  Teah’s story

  Strike time: minus 3 days

  Location: Aldertown

  Teah had slept with Clay, huddled by the fire, Lester’s old coat wrapped around them both. Saggers moaned and groaned all night, especially when he insisted on taking a piss in the garden. The gloom of the night stuck to the room even after sun up, and the smell of ash lingered in the air. She wriggled her way out of the coat and tucked it back around Clay, then made her way out back and washed at the tap, as best she could. The Free World flag was flapping strongly, the wind blowing down from the mountains and into the valley. She had decisions to make, ones that needed time to consider, but time she didn’t have. When she turned to go back into the house, Ray was leaning against the doorjamb, staring at her.

  “Mighty fine morning,” he said.

  She buttoned her shirt and pulled on her jumper. “You been watching me?”

  “Would it be so bad if I had?”

  “And you a married man.”

  “I ain’t no married man. Hannah and me, we just got an arrangement. Keep each other company; look out for each other, that sort of thing. But married? Nope.”

  “Doesn’t make letching any better.”

  “Wasn’t letching, just enjoying the morning view.”

  Teah walked up the path and made to barge past him, but Ray stood firm in the doorway, shoving his body against hers as she squeezed past.

  “So, you need the basement cleared out?” he called as she disappeared into the hallway.

  “I can do it myself,” she hollered back, and realized she’d made her choice. She would stay with Saggers for now.

  “That’s what I thought,” he said.

  Saggers was sitting up, his wound leaking blood. Clay was busy brushing out the hearth and scooping the ash into a fire hod. “That’s it,” Saggers said, “now take it out back and leave it to cool.”
He looked around. “Was that Ray?”

  “Was,” said Teah. “He’s just leaving.”

  “Thought he was going to help with the basement.”

  Teah shrugged, “Why not upstairs?”

  Saggers laughed. “Ain’t no going up there; ain’t been safe for an age. Besides, didn’t you take any note of what Hannah said. The snitch has been paid. You could always run, but I reckon you’re better off hiding.”

  “Here? In this place where no one likes me?”

  Saggers scoffed, “No one said they didn’t like you—they just don’t trust you.”

  “So I live in a basement? What about hunting? What about looking after Jenny?”

  “Guess I’m going to have to do that now?”

  It was Teah’s turn to scoff. “With your side?”

  “Hell, that’ll mend. Let’s take a look in the basement.” Saggers made to get up, but whelped like a kicked dog. “Guess I’ll give it a few hours. The door’s under the stairs.”

  Teah ran her fingers through her damp hair. “Clay, run down to Mary’s, see if you can’t beg some food. Tell her one way or the other I’ll hunt later.” Clay was up and out like a shot. “And you, Ethan, you rest up.”

  He didn’t reply, and so she went off in search of the basement. The door under the stairs didn’t look like it had been opened in an age. At first, she just cracked it open, craning around to take a peek. She was pleasantly surprised to find it wasn’t the pitch black she’d expected. A flight of dust-gray stone steps led down toward the source of the musty smell that wafted up to meet her nose. She pushed the door fully open, took a breath and stepped in.

  The light came from a couple of high windows that faced the back garden. The morning sunlight picked out dust motes floating in the air. A tool bench stood in one corner, covered in dust—she guessed Saggers wasn’t the mending kind. Boxes and crates were stashed against all the walls except the one under the windows, against which stood a bedframe and its worn mattress. She went down the steps and over to test it. It would do, once she’d beaten some freshness into it. Slowly, she sat down and looked around the gray room.

  “Has it really come to this?” she muttered, but knew she’d been walking a road that had led here for a while now. Choices; they were overrated. Maybe her burning Lester’s hut had been a bad decision after all, but that mine had killed Lester and would have done the same to Jake. No, she had done the right thing by him; he just didn’t know it. He didn’t know her, had never given her the chance. Jumping up and standing on the bed to reach them, she opened both the windows as far as she could, to let the place breath. Leaning on the frame of one, she looked out over the garden to see The Free World flag now only fluttering in a slacker breeze. Black and gold; she’d seen enough of those colors to last a lifetime.

  “Military man,” Saggers’ voice rang out from the top of the stairs. “The clutter. It’s from my father. He was a military man. Lived down here, fixed the place up, and… never mind. You don’t need to know everything.”

  “Was that his flag?”

  “Yeah. He believed he was fighting for it, a free world. Proud as punch the day he concreted that pole in. Proud as punch, he was. For a while, whenever he was back, he even made me salute it every morning. But that all stopped a year in.”

  “Why?”

  “Couldn’t stop me slouching—said I disrespected it. I told him it was just a piece of cloth and he darn well whacked me about. Never asked again.”

  “It’s a mighty powerful piece of cloth,” Teah said.

  “As may be; that’s as may be. Here, I fished out a broom. Knew I had one somewhere.”

  “Not so house-proud, are you?”

  “Ain’t had nothing to be proud of,” he said, throwing it down the steps, “and the weed don’t mind sharing the place with a bit of dust. Maybe I’ll tidy up a bit, if you’re fixing on staying, that is.”

  Teah stared up at him. He was holding his side. Even though in pain, he was still smiling. She looked around. “Looks like we’re stuck with each other for a while.”

  “Been stuck with worse,” he said, then hesitated and breathed in hard. “I often say shit I don’t mean.”

  Teah laughed. “You and me both,” she said with feeling. “You and me both.”

  The sound of the front door banging shut broke the ensuing silence, and with a holler, Clay announced he was back. “We’ve got bacon and bread, mom, some of it made up into sandwiches,” and so Teah jumped off the bed and scooted up the steps, then helped Saggers back to the front room.

  “Going to have to have a look at that wound,” Teah said.

  “Hannah’s coming back up in a bit. She said she’d do it, and that woman always does what she says. She’s a good woman, Teah, strong. You could do worse than get her onside.”

  “We chatted last night while you were in and out of consciousness.”

  “You might want to chat harder.” He took a huge bite out of his sandwich. “You know, I’ve been thinking about this lying low thing, and it just ain’t going to work. The bounty boys, well, if or when they come, it’s going to be one or two of them. They’re going to stick out like sore thumbs. Thing is, you know this area as well as any.”

  “Been hunting it near seven years.”

  “My point exactly. So, you know it back to front—as well as any around here. Now these trackers come in all shapes and sizes, but for the most part they’re few and far between, seeing as there ain’t much fodder for ‘em. Strikes me it’s a fuss about nothin’. We just need to make sure you’re armed and keep Clay outta sight. Oh, and you might want to lose the cattleman for a while. Dye your hair, maybe?”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying they’ll be looking for a woman with black hair, a little boy and wearing a big old hat. That’s what I’m saying,” and suddenly Teah wanted to kiss him. She wolfed her bacon sandwich down. “Hair dye, you say. Who in the hell would have some of that?”

  “We aren’t savages up here. I’m sure someone, somewhere up here, might have an old bottle of bleach or something. Hell, more likely to find that than a bowl of lemons.”

  “Bleach? Lemons?”

  Saggers looked at her. “Gridder through and through,” he said, and pulled out a smoke. “I don’t mind minding Clay while you get out and about. Like I said: they’ll more likely be looking for a woman and a kid.”

  Teah needed no more convincing, though after seven years with the cattleman firmly planted on her head, she’d feel near naked without it. Retrieving her bow, knives and a shotgun from the hallway, and pulling her drawstring sack off the coat hook, she slipped out the back.

  The little town was quiet for a morning. Teah guessed it was still early, though folk usually rose at sun up, so it seemed mighty odd that no one was about. Jenny’s home was deserted, no one in the yard out back, either, and so Teah just sat on the deck and scuffed the fur of one of her half-dozing dogs. About half an hour later, she saw Jenny walking down the road, and when she got closer, Teah chanced a wave. She pulled her arm back down when the woman didn’t respond.

  “Inside,” Jenny said when she reached the porch. Teah followed her like a dog. Something was up.

  Sitting at the big table, Jenny looked frailer than ever. “They just held a vote; whole village. Hannah spoke for you, but Ray was having none of it. He wants you gone, and he’s got a mind to get it done sooner rather than later. You upset him?”

  “Don’t think so,” Teah said, not quite knowing why she lied.

  “Well, he obviously does, but fortunately he lost the vote. Narrow, mind. Quite a few of the men voted against you—more voting with him than anything else, but more of ‘em voted with their wives, so you’re cool at the moment.”

  “Cool? Shit. That guy is an ass. Did they really think I wanted my cabin blown up by some maniac? Shit.” She raked her fingers through her hair. “You got any bleach?”

  “Bleach? What you going to do to him?”

  “I want
to bleach my hair.”

  “Your hair? Like as not it’ll come out yellow or something mighty horrific.”

  “But not black?”

  Jenny shook her head. “Not black, that’s for certain. This Saggers’ crazy idea?”

  Teah nodded. “That and keeping me and Clay apart, and not wearing the cattleman.”

  “And Saggers got wounded in the explosion?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So he’ll struggle for a little while, you know, and could use a pair of eager hands and legs to do some hanging, harvesting and packing. That part of his plan?”

  Teah couldn’t help but smile. “That crafty—”

  “That crafty SOB is one of the few men on your side. May as well let him have his fun. Besides, what harm can it do?”

  There was the plain truth of it, she thought. With everything going on, who really cared?

  “You know,” Jenny said, “I think I might have an old bottle under the sink. You can still get it down the valley. Expensive, mind. You can get anything you want down there—all smuggled in, of course, out of the factories, the power stations and the like. Even some of the army bases. They’re good for a few pickings—so I’m told.”

  “One thing confuses me.”

  “Spit, dear,” and Jenny got up, found a bowl and rummaged under her sink.

  “Well, don’t know if you heard, but the man who blew up my cabin was hauling gasoline up the valley. What for?”

  “The preppers. They pay anything for gasoline. Gearing up for the end, you see. They reckon it’s coming soon.”

  “What is?”

  “The end; the apocalypse. Rumor has it, our guy’s got a twitchy trigger finger.”