by Jo Treggiari
Lucy twisted her body, trying to break free, and then from the side and slightly behind him, a shadowy figure appeared. Del raised the hurricane lamp high, then brought it down. Some instinct must have warned him because he moved slightly, and rather than hit him on the head, the lamp smashed into his shoulder. Still, it was enough to break his hold on Lucy’s leg. Shards of glass flew everywhere. Lucy felt a chunk sting her face. Del hauled her to her feet and dragged her out the front of the tent.
They ran toward the shouts and screams, then stopped, blinded. The square was lit up. The vans were positioned in a half circle, their engines idling. On top of each one was a powerful searchlight.
Lucy shielded her eyes. She could see little pockets of people to either side, mostly younger kids clutching one another and crying; the old man with the walrus mustache she’d noticed at dinner. No one who looked like they could defend themself. Many of the shelters had been destroyed, the wooden supports smashed, canvas tarps trodden into the dust. There were perhaps a dozen Sweepers scattered around.
She could hear yelling coming from other parts of the camp. They must be everywhere. The scavengers were divided. She wondered where Aidan was. Henry, Leo, Grammalie Rose? Had they been captured already?
Del swore again under her breath.
Lucy cast a glance behind them. A Sweeper stood there, blocking the way back into the maze of alleyways. Why hadn’t they run in that direction?
“Get ready to fight,” Del said.
Lucy pulled her knife out and held it ready.
Del moved so she was standing with her back to Lucy’s. She bent and scooped up a length of twisted metal. They circled, taking small steps and trying to look in every direction at once, to find a hole they could break through. A searchlight was moved so that it pointed directly at them. Lucy tried to see past it, but the intense light threw everything else into deep shadow. She caught a glimpse of white-suited figures rushing toward them, flanking them.
Del shouted and was suddenly yanked away from her. Lucy moved her knife, blade edge out, in a sweeping motion. She was grabbed from behind, her knife hand pinned. A muscular arm settled around her neck, restricting but not cutting off her breathing. “Easy,” a voice breathed in her ear. She felt a pinching sensation in her wrist, and her fingers opened. She dimly heard the thud as the knife fell to the ground. She was lifted off her feet. There was a flurry of movement to her left. And then Del was free. She swung the metal bar, aiming at her captor’s groin. The blow connected and the man dropped to his knees. She swung again with a ferocity that was terrifying, catching him across the back, and he fell forward, groaning. Lucy’s Sweeper was distracted, and she took the opportunity to stamp on his instep with all her might. With a roar of rage he pushed her away with so much force that she stumbled, falling to her knees.
“Duck!” Del yelled, swinging the metal rod like a madwoman. Lucy made herself as small as possible.
Her knife gleamed in the dust a few yards away. It might as well have been on Mars. She began to crawl toward it. She could hear Del cursing, panting, and, amazingly, mocking the Sweepers. But there were too many of them.
“Del!” Leo bellowed, appearing from an alleyway at a run and beating his way to the girl’s side. He was armed with a two-by-four studded with nails. The Sweepers fell back for an instant, and then, as if obeying an order, advanced in a solid line on the two of them.
Two more Sweepers joined them, effectively containing the scavengers within a small area. Leo circled.
And then, surprisingly, one of the Sweepers moved forward alone. It didn’t make sense. The scavengers were totally outnumbered. Lucy had reached her knife. She picked it up. No one was paying any attention to her. She crouched in the shadows, looking for an opportunity to help.
Leo pushed Del behind him and faced off with the Sweeper. A grin spread across his face. “Come on then,” he yelled, advancing. He slapped the wood against his palm.
The Sweeper moved in closer and suddenly lunged forward, his arm outstretched. Concealed within his hand was a small black box. Lucy screamed a warning, but her cry was drowned out.
Leo raised his club.
And then there was a flash of electric blue light and a sound like meat being seared on a hot grill.
Leo collapsed to the ground like a felled tree. His body jerked spasmodically, and then he was still.
“Leo!” Del shouted, running toward his prone form. She’d taken only a few steps when another Sweeper stepped into her path. The blue light flashed again, and she crumpled.
Lucy shrank back into the shadows, drawing her hood forward around her face.
The Sweepers were gathered around Leo and Del, who were as still as corpses.
Were they dead? Leo groaned as one of the Sweepers nudged him roughly with a boot. Lucy felt a surge of relief. Another man picked up Leo’s nail-studded two-by-four, studied it, then hurled it to the ground in disgust. It bounced, landing not far from where Lucy lay hidden.
She thought she could see smears of blood on the board. What could she do? If she tried to help, they would capture her, too. She was safe for now. She felt a sense of relief mingled with the shame of escaping capture. If she had not paused for her backpack, then Del might still be free.
Slowly, Lucy forced herself to crawl backward toward the collapsed shelter behind her. Once she was concealed under the tarpaulin, she curled into a ball and tried to control the tremors that racked her body. She listened to the heavy sounds and grunts of the Sweepers, picturing them as they loaded Del’s and Leo’s unconscious forms into the nearest van. She heard the low rumble of voices and the piteous sound of a child sobbing. The doors slammed shut, the engines roared, and heavy tires crunched through the debris.
The rumble of the vans slowly died away, and afterward there was silence, which felt oppressive and filled with threat.
It was hours before she moved from her hiding place.
Lucy sat on a small hill above the camp and watched the sun rise. She was cold and cramped, but she could see everything from this vantage point. As soon as she had dared, she’d scuttled out from under the tarp and run, heading for higher ground.
Her thoughts went around and around in her head. She’d been arguing with herself for hours, unable to sleep.
She’d figured out this much. One: She was scared. Two: She badly wanted to leave. Three: That was the one thing she could not do.
The reality was, she was involved. Not only because she’d been right there when Del and Leo were taken, but because probably—definitely—Del wouldn’t have been caught if not for her.
She untied her backpack and scanned the contents. A journal, a few pieces of clothing, her sleeping bag, a yearbook, a broken radio, a flashlight without batteries, a sharpening stone, and a tinderbox with a book of soggy matches in it.
Nothing she owned was worth someone else’s life.
She looked down on the settlement. All the shelters around the square had been ripped apart. Flimsy supports lay twisted and snapped in two, plywood lean-tos were scattered in splintered heaps. The soft, packed earth where the trading market had been held just a day ago was torn up, and the deep tire tracks of the vans snaked through the devastation.
She looked south in the direction the road curved. The road that ended at Roosevelt Island. From here she couldn’t see the red light flash at the top of the tower, but she knew it was there.
She got to her feet with a sigh.
A small group had assembled in the square. She recognized Aidan, Henry, Grammalie Rose, and a few others.
Lucy paused. Turned and looked in the opposite direction. She could make her way inland, find another perfect place to build a home, go back to life as she knew it. Alone.
A shout wafted up from below.
She gazed down. Henry had lifted his hand in a wave. He flourished it back and forth as if he were signaling an airplane.
Slowly, she waved in return and started down the path.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
A
IDAN
The scavengers stood in a close group near the kitchen. Lucy shuffled her feet, not sure if she should interrupt, and was grateful when Henry hollered at her to join them. His left eye was blackened and puffy, the whites shot through with red. His hair was plastered to his head with sweat and filth and he bounced from foot to foot with nervous energy. He moved over to make room for her in the huddle.
“Lucy,” Aidan said. His eyes went to the cut on her cheek and she touched it, shaking her head. It stung, but it was little more than a scratch. She’d collected a few more bruises, but she’d been lucky. Most of the blood on her belonged to other people. “I’m fine,” she said.
Aidan’s knuckles were scabbed and raw. A deep gash ran across his forehead, and there was dried blood in his hair. Lucy looked away from the expression of anguish on his face.
She stood apart and he made no attempt to move closer to her.
There were two teenagers, a boy and a girl, Lucy hadn’t seen before. They both appeared to be about nineteen.
“Wilcze,” Grammalie said, and nodded as if she was pleased she was still around. “This is Connor and Scout.”
Connor was tall and rangy with red hair and a very direct gaze. Scout was tiny and had a pixie cut and worried brown eyes. They exchanged awkward greetings.
“We were out hunting,” Connor told the group. “Didn’t get back until this morning.”
“How many this time?” Scout asked, wringing her fingers together. Connor grabbed her hand and enfolded it in his own.
“Five,” Henry said. “Two more kids, Lottie and Patrick, and Hank—you know, walrus mustache, who helps out in the kitchen? And…” He took a deep breath. “Del and Leo.”
Scout groaned.
“We’re trying to decide if we should keep everyone together or disperse,” Aidan told her.
“We cannot decide anything until we have a camp meeting,” Grammalie Rose said.
“Fine. We’re discussing it, then,” Aidan rejoined. Lucy was surprised at the anger in his voice.
Grammalie Rose shrugged. “We all need to calm down first.”
Aidan nodded curtly. He stalked a few paces away and stood with his back to them. Lucy understood how he felt. She wanted to be doing something. Right now she felt like she was just waiting for the next awful thing to happen.
“There are shelters farther out, near the bridges, that are harder for vehicles to reach. There are hiding places. Bombed-out buildings. We can lie low for a while,” Henry urged. “I spent last night in one of the canals.”
That explained the mud encrusting his clothing.
“The Long Wet is just beginning. There is the danger of flash floods,” Connor pointed out.
“Well, high ground then,” Scout suggested. “The plateau, maybe?”
“No protection,” Henry said. “Gales, lightning storms, fire.” He checked off the points on the fingers of one hand.
Connor glared at him. It was turning into a shouting match.
“How will people be fed if we are spread to the winds? The little ones? It is mostly little ones now,” Grammalie said. “Here we have shelter. Supplies. Water.”
“They’re just picking us off,” Henry said. “We’re like sitting ducks!”
Lucy silently cheered him.
Grammalie Rose put up a hand, forestalling any further argument. “We may indeed end up moving, but nothing can happen until everyone is here to decide what is best. Sammy and Beth are still out foraging. They have a voice in this as well.”
Her brows drew across her forehead, giving her sharp eyes a hooded appearance. Lucy thought she looked older suddenly. She noticed how bowed the woman’s back was, and how swollen the knuckles on her work-reddened hands. Suddenly she wanted to offer Grammalie Rose a chair, but there were none.
“In the meantime,” she continued, “there is food to gather, washing to be done, injuries to tend.” She looked pointedly at Aidan’s forehead and Henry’s eye.
Henry muttered something unintelligible.
“We need water,” Grammalie Rose said. “That is paramount.”
Aidan whirled around.
“We’ll get that,” he said, scooping up a few large plastic jugs and thrusting them at Lucy. She took them, too surprised to say anything. He grabbed four more and steered her out of the square. She pulled her arm away and stood still. She hated how he just grabbed her and started moving. Like she was a kid who couldn’t cross the road by herself. He stopped, surprised.
“Listen, I’ve been working my butt off ever since I got here,” she said. “Maybe I don’t want to haul water!”
“I wanted to talk to you alone. I’ve been thinking about stuff,” Aidan said.
“Okay, so talk.”
“If Grammalie Rose sees us just sitting around, she’ll put us both on latrine duty, and you don’t want that, believe me.”
Lucy had already caught the earthy odor coming from the row of narrow tents on the west end of the camp.
“Okay,” she said slowly. It would actually feel good to be moving. “Listen, all this talking stuff is kind of irritating, though. Why can’t someone just make a decision and then we act on it?”
“You mean like someone in charge?” He shook his head. “That’s not how it is here. Sure, Grammalie Rose is kind of the boss, because she’s the oldest and she’s had experience living in a commune. And Leo—” Aidan’s voice hitched. “He was a natural leader, but everyone is equally important here. That’s the point.”
“But doesn’t it drive you crazy? I mean, how does anything ever happen quickly?”
“It doesn’t.”
At least he sounded as frustrated as she felt. Lucy began to feel a little thrill of excitement.
They started walking again. Aidan took a narrow path between two rows of old brick houses. The second floors were still mostly intact, but the foundations were crumbling and the roofs leaned together like two people about to kiss. Wooden scaffolding pressed up against the masonry on both sides, keeping it all standing, but Lucy couldn’t help but be glad when they came out on a demolished area filled with rubble. Some kids were playing kick-the-can in the dust. They hollered when they saw Aidan and he waved back. A green garden hose coiled on the ground like a big snake. It was attached to a pipe that stuck up out of the debris. Aidan turned on the spigot. Water, rust-colored and full of debris, started to flow in a series of jerks and spurts.
“Why don’t we get fresh water from a spring?” Lucy asked.
“I’ve found a couple of sources out in the woods, but it’s a long trek. This is more convenient, at least until the cistern dries up.”
The water cleared. He fitted the lip of a jug over the hose end and stood back up.
“So, what’s the big plan?” asked Lucy, feeling a shiver race along her spine. Standing around waiting for bad things to happen was worse than actually doing something. “Were you trying to find a way to get onto the island?”
“Are you crazy?” he said, looking thunderstruck. “I’m not James Bond. Where would I even start?” Aidan scratched his head with his free hand, completely missing a leaf that was trapped there. “No, I was just working out ways we could post lookouts, cut off entrances to the camp, prepare for the next raid. And…” He seemed uncomfortable. “I was thinking that this isn’t really your battle. You can leave. No harm done.”
She was instantly furious. It didn’t matter that she had been considering the same thing. That was her choice to make, not his.
“Don’t be stupid,” Lucy said. “I was there when they grabbed Leo and Del.” She choked on the words, she was so mad.
She met his gaze. “I hid.” He dropped his eyes and stared at the gushing water. “They could easily have taken me, too,” Lucy said.
He looked flabbergasted.
She was pretty surprised herself. Saying it out loud made it all clearer in her head. She could try to make things right, and she could always leave afterward.
“I get the whole ‘camp is the
safest place’ thing,” she said. “And it is for the little kids, but there are the rest of us.”
Aidan nodded.
“I was thinking rescue mission,” she continued, trying to sound convincing.
“Some day, sure; but we know nothing about how things are set up, the layout of the place. We don’t even know what kind of weapons they have. Or how many of them there are. Believe me, I want to get Del and Leo and the others back worse than anybody, but if we go charging in there, we’ll get caught.”
Lucy stared at him. This talk didn’t seem like him. It wasn’t what someone who climbed to the tops of trees should be saying.
He must have read the surprise in her eyes. “What?”
“You said no one has ever come back. We don’t know what’s happening to them. So what are you waiting for? An invitation?” She bit her lip. This was one of her worst faults, speaking without thinking, but she couldn’t help it. The words just kept bubbling out of her.
He looked as if she had slapped him in the face. She tried a gentler approach.
“You’re so calm about it. The Sweepers took your friends, and it’s like you’ve given up without even trying.”
“I’ve been thinking about this all night!” Aidan yelled. “There’s no easy solution. You think me and maybe two others can just barge in there like ninjas?!”
They glared at each other. The water overflowed the container, but he made no move to replace it with another. He paced back and forth, savagely kicking chunks of brick out of his way.
“You don’t know. It’s not the first time,” he said in a calmer voice. “Leo was the fighter, the planner, and even he couldn’t think of a way to get the others back. With him gone…” Aidan shrugged his shoulders. “We’re just not that organized.”
“What about all of this?” she said, pointing to the shelters, the cultivated fields in the near distance.
He scowled. “It took us about six months to get all the shelters up, the water situation figured out, and the vegetable gardens planted. It was mostly Grammalie Rose’s doing. And it takes the best part of every day to keep it going.”
