The Dream Widow

by Stephen Colegrove

  The group turned right at an intersection.

  “All you care about is that demon girl,” said the Consul. “The one that makes you fidget and stare into the dark when you think no one is around.”

  Darius shrugged. “To have her or Wilson will be enough. One leg will follow the other.”

  “But you don’t have a plan of action.”

  “My apologies. There is a plan, but the details remain unformed,” said Darius. “I still have teams of tribal men digging at the entrance of what they call ‘the Tombs.’ The soil has frozen solid, so huge fires are necessary to heat the earth enough for manual digging. Even with that method the progress has been very slow, but by targeting the top and sides we may find a weakness.”

  “The weather is so unbearably cold. I find it deliciously evil and very regal of you to keep the wives of these men warm and ‘protected’ while their husbands work themselves to death in the snow.”

  Darius tilted his head. “Sacrifice for the ones you love, that’s my motto.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, that’s not your motto.”

  “Then what, Your Grace?”

  She thought for a moment. “Never give up.”

  “I’ll accept that!” said Darius with a laugh.

  A guard opened the hatch to the rectory and Darius led the Consul to Reed’s former office.

  Inside, a soldier watched tiny clusters of red triangles scattered across the large wall display. Most of the triangles were piled in the center of the map, at Station. A paper with a handwritten list of names lay on the desk in front of the soldier. He stood to attention as Darius entered.

  “Anything to report?”

  “No, sir. No activity apart from the approved citizens.”

  “Good. I’ll be across the hall.”

  Darius excused himself from the Consul and went to his room. As he lay on his bed the smell of tribal cleaning water still lingered. He knew that he should spend time with that treasure cache of old books or tinker with the medical machines. Instead, he folded his hands behind his head and stared at the cracked ceiling.

  THIRTEEN

  Under a dead privet bush, the ugly dog watched snow fall thick and wet like a million pigeons doing their business.

  Bad ones were coming again.

  The orange stick-figures glowed in the dog’s eyes from across the valley, and red triangles floated over their heads. Lines of strange symbols fanned from the triangles. If the dog had ever known what those meant, he had forgotten.

  Bad ones smelled like bad ones, this is what he knew. Their mouths, their fingers, their green uniforms––everything stank of oil and cockroaches and dried blood.

  The dog waited under the snow-covered bush as the four bad ones stumbled noisily into the forest, then followed as quiet as a mouse. He stalked the bad one in the rear and used the trunks of thick pines as cover. When a widowmaker branch crashed through the forest in a shower of ice and gray branches, the ugly dog leaped on the back of the bad one and knocked him on his face in the brown needles. Unnaturally sharp teeth set in jaws stronger than a bear snapped through the man’s neck, and the ugly dog immediately rocketed away from the bad ones, darting randomly left or right to avoid the shots that always came too late.

  BADGER PULLED THE BEARSKIN tighter around her shoulders as the gunfire bounced through the mountains. A haze of snow covered most of the valley and hid Station from sight, but she could still the laughs and yells of those Circle bastards as they went about the business of the morning, whether that was searching for her, foraging for food, or cutting wood. Far below her feet hammers and picks pounded away, constantly beating at the hardened concrete around the entrance to the Tombs.

  When she felt calm again she hiked back across the mountain and dragged part of the bearskin over her steps. The falling snow would cover everything, but she had to be careful.

  Badger arrived at a narrow gap between a pair of huge boulders and watched the trees on the facing slope for ten minutes, then another ten. At last she squeezed through the gap and followed concrete steps deep into the earth.

  Back inside the Tombs, Badger threw off the wet bearskin beside Wilson’s bed. She watched the slow rise and fall of his chest and wanted to scream, to slap him, to rip off the stupid tubes stuck in his body, but she couldn’t––that wouldn’t do him any good. She had to be strong for him, and because of Hausen’s stupidity, strong for everyone.

  Soft feet brushed the concrete floor of the cavern. Lizzie walked up, her head wrapped in a white bandage.

  “Speak of the devil,” said Badger under her breath.

  “Hello, Kira.”

  “Yes? What do you want?”

  Lizzie’s cheeks flushed and she turned around. “Sorry to bother you.”

  Badger sighed. “No ... come back. I’m the one who should be sorry.”

  Lizzie walked to the other side of Wilson’s bed. She held two fingers to the side of his pale neck and stared at Badger.

  “Any changes?”

  Badger shook her head.

  Lizzie released her fingers and straightened up. “You’re not the talkative type, are you?”

  “So?”

  “I never thanked you for saving me. If you and Zhang hadn’t come to get me, I’d be dead, or a prisoner.”

  “Apart from the last fifty meters, you did all the work. I know people say this all the time, but I mean it when I say it was nothing.”

  “I don’t think so,” said Lizzie. “I heard the shots as Zhang carried me on his back. They were shooting at you.”

  Badger shrugged. “Save your thanks for the Circle gunsmith that can’t zero a rifle.”

  Lizzie smiled. “No, I’m thanking you. Thanks, Kira.”

  “Okay, you’re welcome.”

  “Before the horrible events of the past week I always saw you as a lone wolf. Always restless, always looking for a reason to be anywhere else. Anywhere but with other people.”

  “Finally someone understands me,” said Badger with a smirk.

  “That’s not really you, though is it? Someone like that would try to escape. She’d leave the Tombs and try to survive by herself.”

  “Are you saying I’d abandon my friends?”

  “No, I’m not. I’m saying you’re a good person. We escaped the Circle and came down here with basically nothing––very little food, clothing, or blankets––but you helped all of us. Mast, Zhang, and Carter helped also, but you especially have worked the hardest and kept us together.”

  “So you want to marry me, is that it?”

  “Don’t be silly, Kira. I thanked you for saving me and I’m thanking you now for all you’ve done the past week. For crawling through those stinking, filthy tunnels to find supplies.”

  Badger looked down at the silver wedding bracelet on Wilson’s arm and ran her fingers over the delicate engraving.

  “The worst part about all of this isn’t the tunnels,” she said. “It’s having to stand here feeling useless and stupid. It’s having to wait for the person you love to wake up, when we all know that might never happen.”

  “You can’t think like that.”

  “What I think won’t matter if they break through the entrance.”

  Lizzie sighed. “Talk about feeling useless. All the David women trapped outside with those Circle animals. I wish there was a magic button I could push to make every single one of them disappear.”

  “You know what they say about wishes,” said Badger.

  The door to the support section hissed open. Carter and Zhang walked into the blue light with overstuffed packs on their shoulders and leather bags in each hand. Carter was covered in blood.

  Lizzie ran across the cavern. “You’re bleeding!”

  Carter shook his blonde head and smiled. “I’m fine.”

  “The other guy––not so much,” said Zhang.

  ONCE CARTER HAD BEEN CHECKED by Janna and the Medics, the leadership held an impromptu meeting in a far corner of the main cavern.

/>   “It was all my fault,” said Carter. “I wanted to check one more storage room. Just my luck that two soldiers were catnapping inside.”

  “Skeeving off work, I bet,” said Mast.

  Badger frowned. “Are you sure they weren’t guarding it?”

  “They couldn’t have done a worse job if they were,” said Zhang.

  “That’s not what I asked.”

  Carter shook his head. “Like Mast said, I think they were just trying to sleep.”

  “They won’t let us steal supplies forever,” said Badger. “Especially with Robb missing and two more dead soldiers. Expect traps and guards everywhere.”

  “I noticed they usually travel in pairs now,” said Zhang.

  “Another thing,” said Carter. “Three more soldiers are being punished. They’ll be staked outside for a day.”

  “Probably near the leather shop like two days ago,” said Badger.

  “Exactly ... and Kaya’s alive. I saw her leave a room in Barracks.”

  “Robb told us,” said Mast.

  Carter nodded. “I’m glad he made it. We need every pair of hands we can get.”

  “What we need is a distraction, if we want to snatch Kaya.”

  “As long as we’re careful, the best strategy is to free one or two at a time,” said Badger.

  “Kaya’s one of the protected ones,” said Janna. “She’s safe, right?”

  “That could change at any moment, silly red bandana or not.”

  “We need to do it fast,” said Carter.

  “Distractions ...” Badger rubbed the back of her neck. “We know Darius can use the display map. He can track anyone who has an implant.”

  “Aboveground. But not any of the tribals or anything below the surface,” said Carter.

  “Or me, since my implant was disabled,” said Badger.

  “Sure. What’s your point?”

  Badger spread her arms. “I don’t have a point––I’ve got an idea.”

  KAYA STOOD IN FRONT of the mirror and brushed her hair with the slow, languid motion of a girl with nothing else to do.

  She thought her face was pretty enough. Everyone said her eyes were her best feature, almond-shaped and slanted, but she still wished she had Mina’s strawberry-blonde curls instead of straight, boring brown.

  “I think your summer tan has faded,” said a voice in the tribal dialect.

  Kaya stopped in mid-stroke and took a deep breath.

  “You’re lucky,” she said.

  Tran laughed. “Yes, I know.”

  “No. You’re lucky this is the only thing I have left from my mother, or I’d smash your face with it.”

  Kaya continued brushing. When she reached one hundred strokes she slid the quilled brush into a cloth pouch embroidered with flowers.

  Tran watched her calmly from the bed like a mountain cat on a full stomach. He wore the dark green Circle uniform and had begun to grow disgusting hair on his lip and chin.

  Kaya clenched her fists. “Get. Off. My. Bed.”

  “I’m not sleeping on the carpet again,” said Tran. “It’s too hard.”

  “I’m sorry. How about the bathroom? Are you afraid I’ll flush you down the toilet, you walking pile of––”

  Tran turned red and swung his feet to the floor.

  “A girl shouldn’t say things like that,” he stammered.

  “Put my number in the lottery then. I don’t want to be protected.”

  “If the others knew how you treated me I’d be laughed all the way to Springs.”

  Kaya stuck out her chin. “Why don’t you hit me? Would that make you feel like a man?”

  “No, Kaya. I’ve told you already––I love you. I know I made mistakes, horrible mistakes, but I never wanted to hurt you.”

  “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

  Tran shook his head. “It doesn’t, okay? But we just have to move on. Darius listens to my ideas, more than anyone ever did. He says we’ll have riches and a home in the capital when the snows clear.”

  “You’re so stupid,” said Kaya. “A stupid, worthless monster. No one will ever trust you ever again and that includes Darius.”

  “Wrong. If we want to regain the power of the old days and stop wallowing like pigs in filthy tribal villages, then choices have to be made. The ones who join the Circle will survive. The blood of the others will grease the wheels of our machines.”

  Kaya sighed and nodded slowly. “I’ve tried to think of more sickening and worthless things than you, but I can’t. Even goat pellets help the plants to grow.”

  “In time, dear, you’ll––”

  Kaya reached behind her and threw hot tea in Tran’s face. She tossed the wooden cup and it bounced off his head.

  “Stop!”

  She flung a book into Tran’s belly and kicked a chair at his shins. He held up his hands and backed toward the door.

  “Please don’t go,” said Kaya. “Give me time to find something sharp!”

  The door closed and the sound of his footsteps faded down the corridor.

  Kaya wedged the bottom of the door with a small triangle of wood then lay on her bed and screamed into the pillow until hoarse.

  She got up after a while and mopped up the wet patches of spruce tea on the floor, then washed her face with cold water in the basin.

  Her door-latch turned quietly. Someone tried to push inside but the wedge kept the door firmly in place.

  Kaya looked around for another book to throw. “Go away!”

  “It’s not Tran,” spoke a low voice.

  Kaya ran across the room in bare feet. “Stop pushing!”

  She shoved against the door and grunted as she kicked out the wedge at the bottom. She jumped back as the door swung inside.

  Two black-faced ghosts in gray and brown clothing slipped into the room. The one with braids closed the door and held a finger to her lips.

  “Quiet,” she whispered.

  The other, taller ghost began to search the room, throwing clothing and items onto the bed.

  “Are you going to kill Tran?” asked Kaya.

  “We just came for you,” said Badger.

  “Me? But what about the others?”

  “We’re working on something but it’s not ready,” said the tall one. Kaya realized it was Zhang.

  “Right now only a few at a time,” said Badger.

  “But it’s such a waste! At least take Leela––she’s next door.”

  Distant shouts came from outside the door and down the corridor.

  Badger grabbed Kaya’s hand. “We don’t have time!”

  Kaya snatched her hairbrush and slippers. Zhang had already tied the ends of her blanket together and made a bag full of everything within reach.

  Badger took a crossbow off her shoulder and loaded it as voices galloped past the doorway. When the corridor was quiet again she chopped a hand toward the door. Zhang stood to the right and opened it slowly. Badger crept into the empty corridor and Kaya followed.

  A voice yelled nearby. “Kaya!”

  Badger’s trigger clicked and a figure in a green uniform slammed into her.

  A strong breeze whirled up the skirt of Kaya’s dress and long brown hair flew over her face. The floor shook with three rapid thumps and something that felt like warm water sprayed onto her bare legs and feet.

  Kaya stepped back and brushed the hair out of her eyes. On the corridor in front of her Tran lay on top of Badger, a knife sticking from his back. Zhang was on his knees and breathing hard, like he’d run a marathon.

  Badger pushed Tran’s body off her and stood up. Bright blood covered her neck and the front of her jacket.

  Kaya touched her arm. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. Zhang, take her to the tunnels. I need a second.”

  Zhang wiped sweat from his face. He pulled the knife from Tran’s back and took Kaya and the bag of gear down the corridor.

  Badger watched the pair until they disappeared around a corner, then pulled o
ut her soot-blackened knife and began to cut.

  ROBB PULLED at Mast’s shoulder. “Come on! Hurry!”

  “Telling me that doesn’t help!”

  His breath curled white in the night air as Mast flicked the firestarter at the wax-covered bundles of dried grass.

  The three soldiers tied to poles were dead, their throats slit. Two were already on fire and crackled bright on the snow like ghastly candles of flesh.

  The metal stick of the firestarter jammed every time Mast clicked it. Shouts came from the direction of Station. The first bullet spat over their heads.

  “Wait! I’m so stupid.”

  Robb grabbed a taper from one of the burning piles. He touched it to the unlit bundles and the wax-permeated grass burst into flame.

  Both Mast and Robb whispered a chant as more bullets zipped through the thick smoke around them. Robb disappeared into the dark with a fountain of snow and Mast’s blurred shape followed. Their feet cut wide-spaced divots across the fields, like a mountain cat shot from a rifle.

  Darius watched the lanterns of his soldiers bob weakly into the dark. He lifted his chin and blew white puffs into the starry sky, then walked down the steps into the warm rectory. Inside the office, the Consul and an assistant were watching the screens.

  The Consul pointed at the display on the wall. “There go your rabbits.”

  A pair of white rectangles––one labeled “Sergeant Timothy Masterson”, the other “Colonel Antonio Roberts”––blinked across the map at high speed.

  Darius bowed his head. “Your Grace is a quick learner of the old machinery.”

  “You don’t need a quick learner to see we’re being poked with a thousand needles. The supply thefts, the strange dog that attacks anyone in the forest––if we don’t take action we’re going to starve to death.”

  Darius moved to the wall and touched a finger to each of the white rectangles. A small box unrolled and blinked with vital signs for Mast and Robb.

  “You’re right,” he said. “It’s my fault for underestimating the rest of the savages. I thought they would have perished of thirst or hunger by now. The little devils are obviously resourceful.”

  “I suggest a trap.”