“Welcome,” Red said gravely.
In his mind, he added, Watch yourself.
Chapter 23
SAMMI FOLLOWED THE sound of her father’s voice without getting up from the spot they’d claimed, their backs against the bridge supports where they took root fifty feet inland. The road rose above the ground there and was in pretty good shape for Aftertime. Someone must have kept it in good repair, Before.
Sage was sitting next to her, finally asleep, dozing with her head on Sammi’s shoulder, and Kyra was sleeping at their feet wrapped up in a blanket. A little while ago Roan and Leslie and Jasmine had stopped by to see if Kyra wanted to go with them, but she and Sammi had barely managed to get Sage to come with them, practically dragging her away from the quarantine house, and Kyra had absently told them, thanks maybe later.
It was too weird to think of her with Jasmine, who had to be the oldest pregnant woman Sammi’d ever met—she was well over forty, anyway. What would she and Kyra even talk about? She could be Kyra’s mom, easy.
Before Kyra fell asleep she told Sammi to make sure they stuck together, and Sammi was going to do that, though she was secretly worried about whether Kyra ought to be walking so much. But then again, who knew how far they were even going to go? Maybe they’d find the perfect shelter in a day or something. It was unlikely: rumor was that Nathan and some others had driven out to all the known shelters within thirty miles that were still reachable—many of the major roads were impassable, clogged with wrecks—and none had room, or the desire, to add on a group of their size. But it wasn’t impossible, right? They could split up, if they had to, find somewhere like the first shelter Sammi’d lived in, back when her mom and Jed were still alive. The school had been fine. It wasn’t like New Eden, where there were no high walls, nothing to separate them from the rest of the world but the river, but it had been all right. In fact, she missed it in some ways. Missed how small it was, how she knew everything about everyone, how everyone always asked her how she was doing.
She’d been a child there, still. It had been a long while since she felt like that.
Her father was going around talking to people about what they wanted to bring along. He was acting like some kind of expert, like someone had put him in charge. Like he was king of the council all of a sudden, when last week he was digging a new trench for the latrines. Sammi knew—she’d seen the way people talked to her dad, like they thought they were better than him. It was a long way from when her dad was a big financial trader, that was for sure. Somehow, here in New Eden where there were rules for everything, her dad never really fit in. Even when he took up with Valerie—and everyone liked Valerie, she was so perky and perfect—people still didn’t warm up to him. And if Sammi was really, really honest with herself, that had hurt. He’s not perfect, she wanted to tell people, but you have to know him like I know him.
Only, then she’d seen another side of him and decided she didn’t really know him at all. It started with him getting all overprotective, after not giving a shit what she did or where she went for all those years. It was like he wanted to keep her locked up all the time. Her mom had been protective, but at least she had reasons, at least she’d been like that as long as Sammi could remember. With her dad it was just stupid. And then, seeing him and Cass together—as though nothing else mattered, not her, not Valerie, not the job he was supposed to be doing.
But now he was like some kind of hero, going around and talking to people, and everyone wanting to know his opinion. All because of what he’d done today, him and Cass, going out in the boat and shooting all those Beaters. Sammi didn’t know exactly how she felt about that. She’d been watching out the window of the community center with Kalyan when they first set out in the canoe, and she’d been so scared she didn’t have actual thoughts but just a crazy buzzing spin of fear that didn’t go away until they were back onshore.
For a while there, when her dad and Cass were helping Glynnis and John, giving them the ammo or whatever, it looked like they were all screwed for sure. There were just so many of them. It got to the point where Sammi couldn’t bear to look. She turned away from the window and Kalyan put a hand on her shoulder and she went very still until he got the message and went away and then Sage came up and wrapped her arms around Sammi and told her everything that was happening in a soft voice: “They’re paddling upriver…Cass has this one gun where you have to hold it with two hands…damn, she nailed that one…oh shit, there’s—no, she got that one too....”
Sage kept that up until the Beaters retreated and her dad turned the canoe around and only then did Sammi stop shaking and find the courage to look again.
Now she listened to her dad talking and tried to find in his voice the man she most missed. But this was more like the dad he used to be before he moved out. He used to order her mom around, not in an asshole way but in a way like he was just used to being in charge. It wasn’t like her mom put up with it anyway; she always did whatever she wanted. Maybe that was what finally broke them up, they both had “boss” personalities. He used to tell Sammi what to do all the time too, but, back then, she mostly didn’t mind because he liked to spend time with her and they had their own things they did, just the two of them, like watching reality shows together and yelling at the TV, or going out for Gizmos Garlic Fries whenever they got a craving.
“Sure, sure,” he was telling the Patels, one of those rare intact fairy-tale couples from Before who clung all the more firmly to each other in the face of all the dangers around them. “I know you want to take all your family stuff. But you’re really going to have to pare it down. See if you can get it into just this one suitcase here, the one with the wheels, and I’ll be back in a while to see how you’re doing.”
And then he was on to the next group.
Sammi hadn’t seen Cass at all tonight, since she came to get Ruthie. She hadn’t come down to the shore with piles of bags, like almost everyone else on the island. For a second Sammi wondered: the decision she’d made, to tell Mr. Swarmer about her drinking—
All she’d wanted…what had she wanted, anyway? At the time it had seemed pretty clear. Cass was drinking, everyone knew it—well, maybe not everybody, but the other women in the Mothers’ House for sure knew about it because Jasmine had told Roan, and Roan told Kyra, and Kyra told them. In the Mothers’ House they weren’t happy about it, not by a long stretch, and supposedly they’d had a come-to-Jesus meeting where they told Cass if she ever drank while she was watching the kids she was not only out of the babysitting rotation but out of the house too. Somehow they all seemed to believe Cass only drank late at night. But that wasn’t very likely, was it? Addicts were…well, the only ones Sammi knew, maybe they weren’t addicts, technically, meaning by whatever rules or whatever these things were determined, but the girls at school who were stoners and pill poppers and the ones who brought vodka to school in water bottles?—they were for sure doing it during the day, despite Grosbeck Academy’s zero-tolerance policy, and despite those letters they sent home assuring all the parents they had the best record on drug use of any private girls’ school in Central California, which was a blatant lie, but then again that was part of what her parents used to pay Grosbeck twenty-five thousand bucks a year for, was to be lied to and feel good about it. They all wanted to believe it so they wouldn’t have to acknowledge that they were too busy or didn’t care enough to pay attention to their kids themselves.
And that’s what was going on here too, right? The other mothers didn’t want to lose Cass because they needed her to babysit. Jasmine would join in eventually, she was going to have the kid any day now, but she’d been on bed rest for weeks because she was so old and Sun-hi thought she shouldn’t move around much. And after the baby came she’d be too busy to watch all the other kids for a while.
So they didn’t want to lose Cass, so that meant someone else had to be responsible and s
tep up and say something because it was just plain dangerous for her to be left with the kids. Which was why Sammi had gone to Mr. Swarmer.
Only.
If she’d really wanted to punish her, Sammi would have told Dana, not Mr. Swarmer. Underneath his whole “nobody’s in charge here” thing, Dana totally thought he was in charge. He was always ordering people around and pretending he had the council behind him. Or maybe he did, but Sammi would bet he did a lot of behind-the-scenes ass-kissing and favor-trading and threatening to get his way.
And Dana was such a Goody Two-shoes. If he knew about Cass, he’d probably make an example of her, publicly humiliate her, like he did when they found Mitchell Keller stealing the box of cocoa mix off the raider cart. Dana had suggested public stocks. And while the council had voted that down, they had given the thumbs-up to the reparations chair. Mitchell had to sit there for two days, with a sign he’d written saying what he’d done and how he was sorry, and he wasn’t allowed to say anything until the two days were done and then Dana made a big deal about forgiving him in a big speech up on the steps of the community center.
All over a box of cocoa mix. What would they do for something as serious as what Sammi told Mr. Swarmer?
Because she hadn’t exactly said that Cass never drank on the job. She said she didn’t know. Which was true, sort of, but really, Sammi knew Cass would never do anything to endanger a child. Especially Ruthie. No one could say that Cass didn’t love her daughter, and even though Sammi was angrier than ever, if that was possible, about Cass and her dad, she was starting to feel a little guilty—okay, a lot guilty—about telling Mr. Swarmer that she “didn’t know” what time of day Cass drank or who she got it from.
At least she hadn’t told them the other thing. About how Cass and Ruthie had been infected. Sammi couldn’t bring herself to spread that, knowing what she knew—the immunity was super-rare but if you were immune, you weren’t a danger to anyone. There were people in New Eden who’d completely freak if they knew, idiots who’d probably want Cass gone, just because she’d been sick in the past. And even angry, Sammi knew that going that far would be wrong.
Besides, if her dad found out she’d talked to Mr. Swarmer, he’d probably be furious. He could be such a bastard but he was kind of rigid about right and wrong, at least his version of right and wrong. He’d be all over her about lying, even though he’d been lying to Valerie all along—one look at her tearstained, puffy face when she came by earlier with her friends made it clear she’d had no idea about Cass. But what went on between adults, that way, was a private matter. The council would probably all disapprove—and given what a bunch of tight-ass losers they were, she guessed they’d disapprove a lot—but there was nothing they could actually do about it.
Besides…if Sammi told people about that, then her dad would be implicated too. And Sammi wasn’t ready to take that step. She hated him, true, but he was all the family she had left, and he’d do anything for her, to keep her safe. She couldn’t let go of that right now. Maybe if Jed was still around…but no. Jed was dead.
So she couldn’t bring herself to hurt her dad, and she had a ready-made way to hurt Cass, and that was what she had done, and at first it had felt really good, to imagine Cass getting her wrists slapped, having everyone spying on her all the time to make sure she wasn’t drinking, and if they were watching Cass like a hawk then she’d sure have a hard time sneaking out to meet her dad, right, which was a win for everyone....
Except Sammi was starting to think she’d made a mistake. A big one.
Half an hour ago Ingrid and Suzanne had come by with Jasmine between them and Twyla holding Dane’s and Dirk’s hands, and Elsa had been with them and they were talking about a car. A car for the moms with little kids, and Jasmine, who was ready to pop. So that was what, three adults and three kids, which was a full car right there.
And no one said anything about Cass and Ruthie. Which meant they weren’t getting a ride, even though they had every bit as much of a right as the others—or they would have, anyway, if Sammi hadn’t started a rumor that might not even be all the way true.
And that still wasn’t any big deal because Sammi knew, deep down inside, that come morning it was going to be basically everyone for themselves. Sure, there’d be a lot of talk about sticking together, and the smartest people would figure out ways to stay in groups, while it suited them, but in the end they’d all have to fend for themselves. Everyone would be so focused on saving their own asses there wouldn’t be much left over for taking care of anyone else. People would get left, abandoned. Discarded. But at least in that regard, Cass was in better shape than most. Despite her drinking thing she was strong and fit and brave and healthy.
But then there was Ruthie…
Ruthie wasn’t like other little kids. She spooked kind of easy, and then she went quiet, really quiet, like she thought if she played invisible the problem would go away. In the community center earlier tonight, when Cass left to help her dad, Ruthie wrapped her arms so tight around Sammi’s neck that she was almost strangling her. She put her little face against Sammi’s and made a tiny little whimpering sound. Ruthie was not strong, not the way you had to be to get through what lay ahead. And she was only three. Three.
What if the thing that Sammi had done had condemned both of them? What if it was her fault that they wouldn’t get to ride tomorrow, safe inside a car, protected by all that steel and—as long as the gas held out—able to outrun the Beaters?
Down by her feet, Kyra turned over and sighed unconsciously. Sammi couldn’t believe anyone could sleep through this, and Sage was leaning all her weight against Sammi, and if she didn’t move soon both of Sammi’s legs were going to go to sleep. Carefully, slowly, she eased Sage off her and scooted down next to Kyra. Still neither of them woke up.
Sammi wanted to walk, to shake out her legs and work off some of this excess energy. The boys were down helping pile things up and load the vehicles; she wished she was with them. Helping out, keeping her mind off things. Or maybe going for a walk with Colton, one last trip around the island, just to say goodbye—although Colton had been acting weird for a few weeks, hanging around with Shane and that creeper Owen Mason, the guy who grew weed and taught them how to roll. Owen liked to get high, but he liked fires even more—the only useful thing he ever did was to tend the bonfires whenever there was a celebration. There were rumors that he liked fires too much. That he’d set the brush fires up on North Island.
Owen was the kind of guy who—and Sammi knew it was wrong even to think it—you wouldn’t mind if he’d died in the Siege. The kind of guy who made everyone nervous, even if he held a certain kind of fascination, at least for Colton and the other boys, with his personal stash of drug paraphernalia and weird martial-arts weapons and who knew what else.
Sammi hadn’t seen the boys at all since Phillip got locked up, come to think of it. And it made her uneasy, wondering if they were with Owen.
But she didn’t want to leave Sage and Kyra alone. She felt responsible. This was new, and Sammi wasn’t sure she liked it—feeling accountable for people. Her friends…and Ruthie, and Cass. It had been so much easier back when nobody expected much from her at all, when she was just an ordinary kid who was bratty to her parents and maybe a little spoiled, who loved soccer and listening to music and painting her nails and shopping, who wasn’t responsible for anything but keeping curfew and getting her homework done, and half the time she didn’t even manage that, but it never mattered back then.
Now it mattered, the things she did mattered. Or maybe they didn’t. In a couple of hours the sun would rise and they would all set out. It would be their last day on earth or it wouldn’t, and Sammi had watched enough people die to know that none of it was in her control anyway.
Sammi looked around one last time at everyone rushing around in the dark. She sighed and let her eyelids flutter clos
ed, and thought about Jed, about the way they used to stay up talking until they were so tired they fell asleep in the middle of their sentences. After a few minutes she stretched out her legs to get more comfortable, and snuggled a little closer to Sage.
Just resting. Just for a few minutes.
It had been Zihna’s idea to wait until they heard the sound of engines turning over, of the procession starting out. This way, they’d avoid any more of the others’ logistical arguments on the way off the island. By then, presumably, everything would have been worked out—who was riding with whom, who was going to be left behind.
There was the matter of the two dead. Cass had told Red only that they had been trying to drown Smoke. Red was mystified about how an injured, unarmed man could kill two healthy ones, but Cass was not in a mood to talk. In fact, that was the last thing she’d said to him after they’d agreed that Smoke would ride with Ruthie on the trailer and the other three would take turns pulling it.
Red was a little concerned about that. He was in a lot better shape than he looked. He might not be able to erase the effects on his face from all those years on the road, but his body had certainly benefited from several years of his abstemious new life. No drinking or smoking even before the Siege, and the construction work he’d picked up to supplement his income had hardened him. On the island he kept busy. He and Zihna did yoga together, and she could make him break a sweat practicing the most innocuous-looking poses.
The thought made him smile. He and his lovely woman—they had a few surprises in them yet. But still, they were both in their late fifties. Roaming like a bunch of nomads with no camel probably wasn’t AMA-sanctioned exercise in their case.
But it would be what it would be. He had Zihna, he had Cass, he had his granddaughter—a granddaughter! How the word could still bring him fresh, amazed, pure joy—and, though perhaps more problematic, he had a fallen hero of the Resistance. A resistance to a Rebuilder movement that no longer existed, but still.
Horizon Page 15
