From the Shadows

by Jacqueline Brown

  I pulled myself away from his chest and wiped my eyes. The rain washing away the salty tears.

  “What happened?” Jonah asked, his hands on my shoulders, his eyes full of concern.

  I stared up at him. How could I tell him?

  “Bria,” he whispered, “what is it?”

  I bit my lip.

  “Please,” he begged. “Please, let me in.”

  I sniffed, unable to lie to him. “Haz. He—” I stopped.

  Jonah’s expression of concern changed to one of confusion.

  “He said some things. Some things th-that might be true.”

  “What did he say?”

  “Nothing really, it’s stupid,” I said.

  He repeated his words, slower.

  “He said you and I would never work. He said you were holy, and that I am … well, that I am not holy.”

  “And you believed him?” he asked, sounding hurt.

  “I believe you are too good for me, because I have always believed that,” I said.

  “I think the same thing about you. I can’t tell you how many times a day I think, My God, how is she with me?”

  “Don’t you see, Jonah? That’s the problem. I don’t think about God and you do, all the time,” I said, lowering my head.

  “That’s okay. That’s not where you are,” he said, trying to be comforting.

  “But what if I never get there? What if we stay really far apart on the God issue? How is that going to work?” I said, not even wanting to think about how different our pasts were.

  “Bria, I promised I would never try and convert you, and I have kept that promise. All I ask is you seek the truth. That’s all anyone who loves someone can ask.”

  “And that’s really enough for you?”

  “It’s not about me. None of this is about me. You are beautiful and smart and kind and amazing. But the problem is, you don’t know that. And not knowing that puts you at a disadvantage. Trent knew that, and my guess is the guys before Trent knew that too.”

  My face flushed with embarrassment. I was ashamed that the dysfunction of my past was so obvious. “What do you mean?”

  His thumbs wiped tears and rain from my cheeks.

  “When you don’t know what you are worth, you allow others to set your value. And guys like Trent always set it as low as possible.”

  Fourteen

  The rains worsened. We abandoned the lean-to after the earth beneath it turned to mud. No house was large enough for the nine of us. Jonah and I stayed with the girl at Gus and Thomas’s house, also known as the puppies’ house.

  Now that they were housebroken and it was raining, Gus allowed the dogs to stay in the house, which made the girl ecstatic. The rest of our friends, Haz included, went to the house Sage and Faith had shared with Becca. When the rain was drizzling, people moved around, visiting one another or getting supplies or things to occupy their time. Blaise and I took turns studying her book of edible plants. Jonah’s arm was now out of the sling, though he still kept it wrapped in a splint. He spent his time heating a narrow piece of metal pipe, breaking it off every three feet or so, and then rhythmically pounding it into spears. They were small enough to carry in a quiver, yet heavy enough to pierce flesh and break bone.

  At night I lay against him, his arms wrapped around me. His closeness chased thoughts of unworthiness from my mind. I woke before the others on most days and would listen to the rain pelting the roof of our little house, the sound of Jonah breathing beside me, and that of the girl on the other side of me, surrounded by puppies. Astrea was always closest to her, often sleeping snuggled against her body. Thomas and his dad slept on their mats beside the fire, each snoring steadily. Jasper slept by the door, as if perpetually on watch.

  Thomas’s mom had died before the light. She was diagnosed with ovarian cancer a few days after his eighth birthday, and died a few months later. That was three years ago. She must have been a great mom because he was a great kid. He was kind and helpful, loving and patient. He didn’t talk much, but neither did his dad. Thomas had a crush on the girl, though I doubted she realized it. It was funny how a crush could happen when not a word had been spoken. She was kind and beautiful and becoming more beautiful every day as the fear that had held her captive faded.

  On the morning of the third day, the rain stopped and the children ran around, gathering as many earthworms as they could find. First they put them in buckets, and then dumped them into one of Gus’s gardens.

  “Will that help?” I asked.

  Gus chuckled. “I suppose it can’t hurt, and it gives them something to do. Kinda like painting our houses with mud,” he said, the wrinkles around his eyes becoming more pronounced as his smile reached his eyes. “It helps a little, but it’s a way to keep them busy and make them feel useful. Everyone needs to feel useful, even the little ones.”

  “How are the crops?” Blaise asked as we watched the children placing worms between the tender kale and potato plants.

  “I’d say if it kept raining, we’d have a problem. As it stands, we’re doing good,” he answered.

  My head jerked as a familiar sound came from above.

  “What is it?” Jonah asked.

  “Helicopter,” I said, my eyes wide with fear.

  Others heard it now too. Everyone ran for the cover of trees and houses.

  “It’s coming from the south, like it did last time,” Jonah said.

  The sound grew louder and louder. A moment later the blades of the helicopter thumped, hovering overhead. The wet earth held firm and did not cover us with dirt and debris as it had last time. The machine pulled away, going back down the hill. The noise of the blades changed.

  Ash and several others ran to the edge of our hill, staring down at the earth in the distance. As quickly as they ran over, they ran back.

  “It’s landing at the farm.” The cries repeated, one to another.

  “They were signaling us. They want us to meet them,” Haz said, from somewhere behind me.

  My body tensed at the sound of his voice.

  “We can’t let them come here. We need to meet them at the base of our hill,” Jael said, calling those of us who could fight.

  Few stayed behind: the oldest and the youngest and the frailest. The rest, even Marjorie, were armed and making their way down the rocky hill. Several people broke off from the main group, veering far to the left or the right. They were the ones with rifles. Blaise and Josh were among them.

  “They will act as snipers,” Jonah told me as we continued down the hill. His hand pulled me against his body as if he wanted to be sure I was there.

  “Do you think they came to attack?” I asked.

  “No, I’m sure they didn’t. If they wanted to attack, they would’ve done it from the air.”

  At the base of the hill, Haz signaled for most of us to stay back in the trees. He, East, and Ash went forward. Jael followed with Mrs. Pryce at her side. Mrs. Pryce limped across the two-lane road to join the others. The helicopter sat beyond the road, in the empty field. Weeds covering its base, making it look like the body of the helicopter was floating above the ground.

  Jonah and I, along with most of the town, watched from the safety of the trees. The people from the helicopter came forward. A middle-aged man with thin hair stood in front of half a dozen armed soldiers. The pilot, a woman, remained in the machine.

  I gasped as the middle-aged man in front lifted his head. I recognized him. I had met him. We all had met him, at the convenience store command. He had been Trent’s commander. The rest of us could not be seen, but East could. I bit my lip as she shifted her body, falling back behind Haz and Jael so she was not at the front. I doubted that would do much to hide her. She stood out wherever she was.

  The woods were silent as we strained to hear the conversation.

  “We have come to offer you citizenship,” Trent’s commander said.

  “Citizenship? Of what country?” Ash asked, confused.

  “The Unite
d States,” the commander answered.

  “We are all Americans,” Ash said.

  “Each of us,” the man said, extending his arm toward the hill where we waited in silence, “has been given the great privilege and seemingly overwhelming responsibility of rebuilding the United States, of shaping it to be the greatest nation the world has ever seen.”

  Jonah’s hand tightened around mine. We both knew what this man’s vision of greatness was and it did not include the elderly woman with a limp who stood in front of him.

  “And,” he said, “with this responsibility and privilege comes a choice that must be made. A choice to be a member of this great country or not, for it would be unwise for us to blindly assume allegiance. After all, it was that assumption that led to this … this setback in the first place. So now we are asking for allegiance in exchange for citizenship.”

  After a few moments, Mrs. Pryce spoke. “I am sure I speak for every member of our town when I say we claim citizenship of the United States both in fact and in love.” Her words were reasoned and commanding.

  “So, I can count your settlement as a member of our nation,” the commander proclaimed, smiling—an expression that was unnatural and forced.

  I wondered if someone, sometime, had told him he didn’t smile enough and should try to do so more, and if this was his attempt.

  “We are part of the United States,” Mrs. Pryce said with conviction. “We uphold her constitution, and her laws govern our community.”

  “I am pleased to hear that,” he said. “As citizens, you are entitled to rations of food and medicine.”

  “In exchange for?” Haz said, his voice gruff and untrusting.

  East shifted slightly behind him, but it was too late. The man’s eyes flickered toward her. He moved his body so he could see her more clearly. Haz’s posture stiffened in response, shifting in a protective stance to block her from view.

  “I know you,” the commander said.

  “Do you?” East replied.

  “I can’t remember how,” the man said, an expression of frustration and confusion on his face.

  She was not easily forgotten, especially not by a man. She was, in so many ways, unforgettable.

  “In exchange for what?” Haz repeated, shifting yet again to block the commander’s gaze.

  The man paused and stared first at East, then at Mrs. Pryce, and then back to Haz. “Your guns.”

  “Our guns?” Mrs. Pryce asked, faking surprise.

  We all knew what they would ask for and what they would offer in return.

  The commander said, “It is the only way we have found to keep violence at a minimum.”

  “Plenty of violence happens without guns,” Jael said, “and without them, hunting is difficult.”

  “I understand. That’s why we will provide food for you and your community,” the man said.

  “For how long?” Ash asked.

  “Indefinitely.”

  Jael said, “Why would we become dependent on you for food when we can easily hunt and forage and feed ourselves?”

  “The food you hunt is not guaranteed. This is. Besides, how many have died from sickness, sickness that is easily prevented?”

  He must have known that this is what really mattered.

  “Medicine is needed, food is not,” Mrs. Pryce said firmly and with civility.

  “I’m sorry, they go together,” the man said.

  “And if we decline your offer and choose to keep our weapons?” Mrs. Pryce asked.

  The man forced his face to appear startled and disappointed, though I could tell he felt none of these things. He was like Trent in this way, and I recognized the façade.

  “Then, you will no longer be citizens of the United States.”

  “And what does that mean?” Haz asked.

  “Your community will not be part of our nation and you will be treated accordingly.”

  Jael scoffed, “How can we not be part of the nation? We are literally only miles from the capital.”

  The man bristled, and I wondered if it was the common-sense logic of her question or the lack of respect in her tone. It didn’t matter; either way, this conversation was deteriorating fast. The soldiers behind the man stood taller and held their weapons tighter.

  Jonah motioned for the others in the trees to step forward, not leaving the safety of the trees, but making our presence more visible. The snipers remained hidden.

  When Jonah moved forward, he was noticed and the man looked from Jonah to East with a flash of awareness. “You knew my lieutenant,” he said with a shift in his voice.

  “Stay back,” Jonah whispered to me.

  I kept my body behind the tree.

  East said nothing.

  “I recognize you and that man on the hill, watching me. You two were part of the group the lieutenant brought to me, the ones who were with that girl he said he was dating.”

  “He’s walking toward East,” Jonah whispered.

  “Were they really dating?” I heard the man ask.

  Haz grumbled, “What difference could that make?”

  “She seemed too good for him, that’s all. I never did like him. He’s dead, you know. Stabbed through the back of the throat.”

  My head began to pound as the fear increased.

  “Where is she? Is she here?” the man asked.

  “What difference does it make to you?” East said.

  “She’s wanted for murder,” he said casually.

  My heart raced as silence filled the air.

  “Murder?” Mrs. Pryce asked, concern and fear in her voice.

  “As I said, my lieutenant was found stabbed to death and he was last seen with her. I’m told you were there,” he said, calling out to Jonah, “but I’m told you, ah, you weren’t a threat.”

  Muffled laughter rang out from the soldiers below.

  “Don’t react. It’s what he wants.” Mrs. Pryce’s voice carried up to me, and I wondered if she was saying this to Haz and East, or if she knew Jonah and I needed to hear it as well.

  “Oh, I couldn’t care less if they react, but what I do care about is holding the person who murdered my lieutenant responsible.”

  “You just said you didn’t even like him.” It was Jael’s voice.

  “True, very true. He was impatient and power hungry, ruled by emotion. People like that are dangerous, but that doesn’t matter. He was an officer, and the punishment for killing an officer is death,” he said with disinterest.

  I knew then that this man was wrong. It was far more dangerous to be strategic, emotionless, and power hungry than it could ever be to be impatient and emotional. This man remembered us from a brief encounter a month ago. He knew I was here—I could sense it—and if it became of interest to him, he would find me and kill me.

  “And why was it?” Haz said, anger brimming from every word. “Why was it a crime when he was killed, but not a crime when he killed?”

  “Did he kill someone you loved?” the man asked, feigning compassion.

  I bit my lip, knowing that hatred must have been pulsating through every inch of Haz’s body.

  Haz didn’t respond, at least not with words that I could hear.

  “No matter,” the man said. “There are laws and laws must be followed.”

  “Yes, there are laws,” Ash retorted, “but those laws are being changed, aren’t they? Rewritten to serve those who write them.”

  “They are being changed to fit the realities of our new world. Not everyone will live. We simply do what we can to ensure those most important to the nation survive, which is why the lieutenant’s death is particularly problematic.”

  Mrs. Pryce said, “Now more than ever, we need laws to protect the weak from the strong.”

  “I suppose one could argue that’s what I’m doing,” he said. “The lieutenant was killed in close hand-to-hand combat, or so it appears. Therefore, whoever killed him, his girlfriend, I suppose, was stronger. She is a threat to others, so I am protecting the
weak from the strong.”

  “The irony of your words is laughable,” Haz yelled.

  The hatred in his words was clear.

  “Perhaps, perhaps not. Regardless, I need to take her into custody.” His tone was unaffected. He was enjoying himself, like a cat playing with a baby bird that couldn’t fly from its claws. But I was not that bird, and I was not alone. Jonah’s breathing was as calm as I imagined the commander’s breath to be. And from his calm strength I allowed my mind to settle. I could not go back there and I would not.

  “Are you serious?” Jael scoffed.

  “Dead serious,” the man responded, all hint of amusement and disinterest gone.

  “We will keep our eyes open. If we see a young woman who is strong enough to kill your power-hungry lieutenant, we will send her to you,” Mrs. Pryce said. “For now, I think it’s best if you and your soldiers were on your way.”

  I wondered what he saw in this moment, when I was sure he must be staring into her wrinkled face. Did he see the quiet strength of a woman who had lived life in violence and had survived? Who wanted better for those she loved, who had always wanted better for those she loved? Or did he see an aged woman with a limp, unimportant and without value?

  “Until next time,” the man said. The lightheartedness had returned, and I realized that a threat made in a calm, uncaring tone was far more unsettling than one made in anger.

  A moment later, I heard the blades of the helicopter. My head was still against the tree as I heard the machine leave the ground. Less than a minute later, it was moving gradually up the hill, hovering as close to the trees as it dared. I was protected by the spring leaves; I could not be seen. Still, my hands shook and my mouth dried as I crouched low against the base of the tree, Jonah’s body blocking me further from view.

  After the noise was gone and my mind had slowed enough to speak, I said, “My being here is a threat to these people.”

  “Your supposed guilt is nothing more than an excuse to attack,” Jonah answered.

  I placed my calloused palms on the rough bark of the tree trunk. “I don’t want to be an excuse.”

  Fifteen