From the Shadows

by Jacqueline Brown

  I checked the gun again, already sure it was ready to fire. I grasped it tighter in my shaking hands. The girl cowered beside us, her body mostly hidden by the bush. Her eyes were large, her body trembling. Seeing her gave me strength. I had to be strong for her.

  Jonah crouched beside me, the spear ready. Would we kill these people, or would they kill us?

  As they neared, they slowed as if they knew where we were, and I guess they did because they knew where their detection system was. From the sounds of cracking branches, there were many more of them than us. As sounds neared, there were fewer of them; they were staying back, hiding among the trees. The dogs too, had stopped, no doubt held back by their masters.

  In the trees beside us my friends were ready, their weapons drawn. East and Haz in the middle, both poised to attack, and beside them, my three best friends with one gun among them. This was a stupid plan, a really stupid plan. People who are smart enough to disassemble a house and cars were not stupid enough to let strangers slip into their territory unnoticed.

  Jonah stood, and I clawed at his waist to try and pull him down, but it was no use. Our eyes locked, his apologizing for what he was about to do.

  A moment later, he stood between our tree and the tree where East hid. His hand opened, allowing his spear to fall to the ground. “I don’t wish to harm anyone,” he said.

  “Then why are you here?” a man’s voice asked from above us.

  In an even tone, Jonah said, “I’m trying to find someone and was told they may have come here.”

  “That’s impossible,” a woman’s voice answered. “Everyone who knows about our town is here.”

  “I didn’t know about the town,” he said. “I was told they came to this place, fleeing the city, and I came only to find them.”

  The strength and calm of his voice amazed me.

  “What are their names?” the man asked.

  “A girl, Sage, and her mother, Faith,” Jonah answered.

  Silence lasted for what felt like minutes, until the woman finally spoke.

  “How do you know them?” she asked, caution in her voice.

  “Please, please,”—Sara rushed from her hiding place, running toward Jonah—“do you know them? Are they here?”

  “Sara, no,” Blaise hissed.

  I peeked cautiously at Jonah. His body was shielding Sara as six guns pointed at them.

  “Sage and Faith, do you know them? Please, do you know them?” Sara begged.

  “Yes, they are here,” the man answered.

  “Oh, thank God!” Sara shouted, before collapsing to the ground and covering her eyes as she sobbed.

  I glanced at Blaise, knowing she felt as I did. We wanted to go to her, but Haz and East did not signal it was okay, and even Jonah remained protectively blocking her body from the strangers.

  “Are you Sara?” the woman asked, her voice softened.

  “She is,” Jonah answered.

  “It’s all right, you can come out. We won’t hurt you,” the man said, speaking to us.

  I hesitated, until Haz and East stepped from behind the tree. Jonah nodded, and I went briskly to Sara, putting my arm around her.

  She pulled me to her, clinging to me. “They’re here. Did you hear that? They’re here,” she said through sobs of joy.

  “I heard,” I said, petting her dew-dampened hair.

  Jonah bent and picked up his spear.

  The woman raised her gun. My body tightened. “We won’t hurt you. And we will take you to Sage and Faith, but you can’t have weapons in our town.”

  “You have weapons,” Blaise said as she and I stood, blocking Sara.

  “It’s our home, not yours. You may have them back when you leave,” the woman said, a clear indication that we would be leaving. We were welcome to come, to find Faith and Sage, and then we were welcome to leave. We were not welcome to stay.

  Others came forward to take the weapons. I released my gun to a man who was close to my father’s age, his hair and beard silver in the moonlight. Somehow, his presence made me worry less. They had allowed him to live—a man well past the age limit, so perhaps they would allow us to live too.

  Beside me, the girl squealed when a large dog raised its paws, nearly pushing her over. It was the most noise I’d ever heard her make, at least while awake.

  “East is not going to like this,” Jonah mumbled, more to himself than to anyone else.

  Before I could ask what he meant, I heard the sound of panic and turned to see East, frozen against a tree, tears of fear running down her cheeks. Two large, playful labs were sniffing her.

  Jonah left my side and shooed the dogs away from his sister.

  “Come on, it’s okay. They aren’t going to hurt you,” he said quietly to East.

  She opened her eyes and I could see the fear and embarrassment on her face as everyone stared at her. A mighty warrior scared of two labs.

  “What are their names?” I asked, trying to deflect the focus from East. I clapped my hands once, summoning the dogs to me. Without hesitation they came, and I patted one on the head.

  “Jasper and HoneyBee,” someone answered from the back of the crowd.

  I rubbed the dog’s head and shoulders. Its fat was gone, but the muscle was not. The dog was not starving. I lifted my head. The people, numbering at least twenty, were of different ages and ethnicities. Their physical condition was similar to their dogs and us, for that matter: lean and muscular, and far from starving. These people cared for their dogs and they cared for each other. They knew Sage and Faith. My body calmed as the fear began to subside. From beside me I heard a sound I’d never heard before. The girl laughed as one of the dogs licked her face.

  It was a beautiful sound.

  We climbed the hill, and for the first time in days, Jonah was not at my side. Instead he was by his sister’s, coaxing her forward. Haz too, was encouraging her. Her fear of dogs was stronger than I had realized. It must have something to do with Wrath and Mick. I felt bad for her, this fierce warrior reduced to tears by what were probably only puppies. They were full grown but couldn’t be more than a year or two, with the bounding excitement and lack of caution they showed.

  As we trekked upward, I noticed more and more stones. First, a few were scattered at our feet, but as we climbed the hill there were more. I understood now why Sara and Sage called this place “the stones.” They were everywhere, some covered beneath layers of moss and grass, others resting naked, glowing in the moonlight.

  Firelight flickered in the distance. As we neared, structures came into view—shacks built of car hoods and a garage door and pieces of a farmhouse. The shacks, or houses, ranged in size, though none was as big as my bedroom at my father’s apartment or even the family room of my own apartment. There were at least twenty houses in a roughly-shaped semicircle. None were made from pallets painted with American flags. These people were not part of a sanctioned settlement. They were rogue.

  Before the light, this would have terrified me: people living outside the control or confines of the government. But now it had the opposite effect: their lack of connection with what had become the government instilled a sense of hope.

  In the middle of the settlement was a large fire pit, with stacked stones creating a rectangle that was open at the top. There was no fire here. Instead, the fire light came from the houses surrounding us, whose doors stood open. Pipes stuck out of each house, chimneys of sorts, though in the house nearest I could see the smoke pouring from the many cracks in the walls.

  From somewhere in the darkness I heard the yelping of even younger dogs. The dog beside the girl trotted toward the sound.

  “Puppies?” I said to the girl.

  “Yes, HoneyBee was pregnant when we came here,” a boy of fourteen or fifteen said.

  The girl clapped her hands in excitement.

  “Can we see them?” I asked.

  “Not tonight,” said a woman who walked beside the boy. “But I’m sure tomorrow will be all right,”
she added after the girl’s excited expression faded.

  To the side of the fire pit, rows of benches and a small structure built of stones stood nearby.

  “Have a seat,” the man who seemed to be in charge said.

  As I touched the wood of the benches, I was struck by how different they were than the benches Jonah and my father had made. These were smooth, with the bark cut away, and stable so they did not wobble when the girl and I sat down. Jonah, East, and Haz settled behind us and Sara, Blaise, and Josh in front of us, though the benches were long enough for all of us to have sat on one.

  Some people sat behind us on benches, while others stood nearby. A few went into houses that were dark and quiet. A few others came out of houses.

  The mist was thicker and the air colder as dawn was getting closer. I shivered, and the girl moved closer to allow her body to touch mine.

  “Thanks,” I breathed, wondering which house contained Sage and her mom. I hoped they would come to us soon.

  In front of us, Sara’s leg bounced nervously as she rubbed her hands repeatedly on her thighs. This moment must feel longer to her than all the moments of the last month combined. This is what we had come for. This is why she had repaired the truck and we had risked our lives over and over again.

  A woman limped toward the front. She was older and must have been overweight before the light. Now her dark skin hung in excess from the bone and muscle beneath it. Streaks of silver filled her dark, curly hair.

  “And you must be Sara,” the woman said. In her voice, I heard the years of wisdom conveyed in even the simplest of words.

  She did not carry a gun, only a tall walking stick. She would be unsteady without it. Others watched her: she was deciding how to deal with us. Deciding if we could, in fact, be trusted. This was the real leader of this settlement, not because she demanded this role, but because it was freely given to her.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Sara answered, her voice shaking. “Where are they?” her head swiveled from side to side.

  “They are not here at the moment,” the woman answered.

  I hoped Sara didn’t hear the sorrow in her words.

  “Mrs. Pryce?” Haz asked, from behind us, his voice unsure.

  I turned. He stood, his expression confused, as if he were seeing something he didn’t understand.

  “Yes, that is my name. But I’m afraid I don’t recognize you,” she said, her expression perplexed.

  “Detective Oliver, ma’am,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady.

  But I heard how overcome with emotion this man was—who, with no hint of emotion, had told me his parents were dead.

  The woman stepped backward and straightened herself. A woman next to her put her arm on Mrs. Pryce, her concerned eyes shifting from the stranger who sat behind me to the woman she held.

  “Oh my, Detective, you do look different,” Mrs. Pryce said lightly.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, nodding.

  She gazed at him, her eyes penetrating. “Something tells me we need to talk about that.”

  He cleared his throat. “Yes, ma’am.” He sat down, I guessed because he didn’t trust his legs to support him.

  Sara stood and said, “Please, will someone tell me where my mom and sister are? Why aren’t they out here?” She craned her neck as if hoping they were hiding behind one of the faces of the strangers.

  Mrs. Pryce limped toward our group until she stood in front of Sara. The woman’s faded, watery eyes showed her sadness. I bit my lip, unsure of what she would say, and wishing she wasn’t about to say it.

  “Sara, dear, your sister is sick.”

  “Sick?” Sara said barely above a whisper.

  Mrs. Pryce took her hand. “She has been sick for over a week. Your mom is doing what she can but …”

  “But what?” Blaise said, holding onto Sara.

  Mrs. Pryce rubbed Sara’s hand. Another woman joined them. Her short hair was twisted into spikes. Her skin, like Mrs. Pryce’s, was the color of mahogany, but differed in that it was tight and flawless against her high cheekbones.

  She was the woman who had known Sara’s name in the woods below this town. Mrs. Pryce glanced at this woman.

  Mrs. Pryce said, “Sickness is dangerous now that we have no medicine.”

  “Sage is strong, she’ll be okay,” I said, going to Sara.

  “This sickness doesn’t care how strong you are,” the woman with the spiked hair said.

  I wished her words had been said in cruelness, so we could disregard them. Instead I heard only pity.

  “Jael,” Mrs. Pryce said, touching her arm tenderly.

  “It’s wrong to give them false hope,” Jael said, her voice firm but quiet, as if meant for Mrs. Pryce only.

  Mrs. Pryce shifted her gaze back to Sara. “Jael is right.” Mrs. Pryce exhaled. “This sickness, whatever it is, doesn’t care how strong and healthy you are.”

  “What are you saying?” Sara asked, her back straightening, her body becoming rigid.

  Mrs. Pryce rested her eyes first on me, then Blaise, and then finally settled on Sara. “If Sage survives this, she will be one of the very few who has.”

  Five

  I shivered in the heavy sweatshirt that clung to my chilled skin. The physical discomfort caused by the cold offered a temporary distraction from the journey we were now on.

  The shelter of trees stopped when we reached the bank of a lake covered with smooth stones and large boulders. This must be where Sara and her family had eaten picnics on Sunday afternoons. I wondered how the boulders came to be there. Some were half buried and covered in moss; others sat far above the earth, rising as if survivors from a forgotten world. Beneath our feet there must be more, many more. We saw only the ones that had come to the surface after millions of years of hiding below.

  The clouds swirled overhead, moonlight reflecting from them, dancing off tiny waves made by bullfrogs leaping from our nearing footsteps. Cattails caught by the wind stirred the surrounding water.

  On the other side of the lake, two structures sat nestled against the trees. Each building had a wall fashioned from the hood of a car. The rest of the structures were made of uneven timber and tires packed with rock and mud. The doors were nothing more than a blanket; how they were suspended, I couldn’t tell.

  Jael stopped in front of the shack to our left. “They are in there.”

  Sara started forward, but Jael reached to stop her. “If you go in there,” Jael said, “we ask that you keep your distance from the rest of us. We can’t allow others to be exposed.”

  “Fine,” Sara said, with an edge of impatience.

  “And if you get near your friends or spend much time with them, we ask that they keep their distance from the rest of us as well,” Jael added.

  “Isn’t that being overly cautious?” Blaise said.

  Jael removed her hand from Sara and kicked at a pebble in the dirt beneath her feet before turning to face Blaise. “You don’t know what this is capable of,” she muttered.

  “And you don’t know what it’s like to be told the person you love most is dying,” Sara responded in tears of impatience as she went toward the shack.

  Jael began to leave, then stopped and turned to us. “It killed my husband,” she said, “the day before our first anniversary.”

  Sara stumbled.

  I started to speak, to say how sorry I was, but the words wouldn’t come. Beside me, Blaise’s hand clutched her throat, and Josh slipped his arm around her waist.

  Jael left our circle, the weight of her words falling like the thick dew.

  “I’m sorry,” Haz called tenderly.

  She stopped, staring into his eyes. “Me too,” she said, and disappeared into the shadows.

  Jonah’s hand slipped into mine, while I struggled to swallow the lump in my throat.

  No one said anything. We stared at the silent house where Sage lay dying. Smoke rose from the tiny pipe in the roof made of rusted sheet metal. Light flickered through t
he cracks that defined the thin walls.

  Sara had reached the shack. She tapped on the wood beside the blanket. A moment later a shadow crossed in front of the wall. Then the blanket pulled back. My hand tightened around Jonah’s as Sara’s mom came into sight. She seemed to have aged twenty years since I last saw her. Her hair, once a light-brown color, was now gray. Her eyes that had been so strong and determined were now defeated, with circles so dark they were obvious even in the pale light of the moon.

  “Mom,” Sara said, tears streaming down her face.

  At Sara’s voice, Faith’s head lifted and her eyes became alive once more.

  “Sara!” she cried, her body losing some of its haggard appearance.

  Sara threw her arms around her mother with such force that the two almost fell to the ground.

  Blaise and I exchanged a glance. This was the reason we were here. This was the reason for all we had survived over the last month. The girl held onto my arm, using my body as a sort of shield against the unknown. I wondered if the emotion—the sadness and joy—were unsettling to her. I wondered where her mother was.

  “It’s okay,” I mouthed, turning my head toward her.

  East and Haz stood behind us as Faith and Sara continued to embrace. When they separated, their bodies remained connected; Faith lay her head on Sara’s shoulder. I knew Faith would, if she had her way, never release Sara again.

  “How did you find us?” Faith asked.

  Sara shrugged the bag from her back and pulled out the small book, its pages now well-worn. Sara had spent many of her days reading it.

  Faith gasped, placing a hand to her mouth. “Sage’s journal. How did you get it?”

  “Bria found it on Sage’s bed,” Sara said.

  Faith blinked, her eyes slowly moving from me and then to the others. “Bria, Blaise, Josh!” she exclaimed as if she hadn’t noticed we were there until that moment.

  “Hi, Ms. Faith,” Blaise said, waving.

  “How in the world …?” Faith said, staring at each of us in turn.

  Sara squeezed her mom’s hand. “Where is she, Mom?”

  The excitement fell away.