The Renegades (The Superiors)

by Lena Hillbrand

  “It’s a pleasure to see you, my lord,” Herman said, bowing again and kissing Meyer’s hands.

  “Yes, of course, likewise. How is the community? I trust all is well.”

  They walked in front of the group of sapiens who had gathered and now trailed them, awestruck by Meyer’s presence. “Everything goes well,” Herman answered. “We’ve lost a few lives since your last visit, nothing uncommon. Taken a few lives back, as well, although we had a breakdown in communication and…lost one.”

  Meyer spun to face Herman. “You lost a Superior? So he’s out there, and he knows where you are?”

  “We aren’t sure. Things have been peaceful since then. We had arranged to rid ourselves of the vermin when we returned from a visit to Princeton. As I’m sure you know, that trip did not end well. When we returned, we had a further shock.”

  “Yes?” Meyer asked, his impatience making his tone quite ominous.

  “Tom had gone against our decision from Meeting and buried the bloodsucker, excuse me, the Superior, before we returned from town. When we went to dig him up, he was gone.”

  “I see.” Meyer pressed his lips together and resisted the urge to box Herman’s ears so hard they met in the middle of his head. “And this was over a year ago? I wasn’t consulted, why?”

  Herman took a step back and drew a breath, but he continued even under the furious scowl of his benefactor. “We assumed he’d come back to seek revenge. We considered moving to another location, but decided that the Superior would go on searching these woods until he found us. You know how confident they are. We armed ourselves doubly and go in pairs about our duties now. We thought they’d send a few Superiors up here to check us out when he started talking in town. But none have come. In fact, we haven’t seen any up here since the unfortunate incident occurred. We think maybe he followed us and was killed along with our people in the massacre. At least, we know he hasn’t been talking in town.”

  “Yes, yes. I see. I hope you are right. I’ll find out what I can in Princeton. You should have informed me immediately. This is a bloody outrage, to keep a thing like this from me.” Meyer tried to hide his dismay at such a betrayal behind a face of anger. His subjects should adore him and always keep him informed. True, he had skipped his annual visit the last winter, not wanting to risk the community with Byron crawling down his back so relentlessly. But they had ways to contact him in dire emergencies, and this had to be the worst scenario imaginable. He could scarcely believe that he had not been contacted within minutes of their discovery.

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “Very well then,” Meyer said. “And you and your father are the only ones who survived that attack, correct?”

  “Yes, my lord. And one boy, a Henson.”

  “And otherwise, how is the community? Flourishing, I see.”

  “Yes, we have a few new babies.”

  “Any I should take an interest in?”

  “None this year.”

  Herman stopped before one of the more masked houses in the community and bowed to Meyer again. “This is your house?” Meyer asked.

  “Yes. I have married and moved in here.”

  “Very good, Herman. Who’s the lucky lady, as my mum used to say?”

  “She lost most of her family in recent years, so she owned the house already and needed a man around. Sally, come and say hello to Meyer.”

  Sally came from inside the house and bowed. “Hi, Meyer. Come on in and make yerself at home. We’re shore excited you dropped in.”

  “Literally,” Meyer said, smiling. “Have you started making me a little Sally yet?”

  “I cain’t have no kids,” Sally said. “My insides don’t work right.”

  “That’s a shame. But then, Herman is a good husband for you. Herman, you see that boy I brought in? That’s your son.”

  Herman looked appropriately shocked.

  “I know,” Meyer said. “Can you believe fifteen years have passed? Are you prepared to house him?”

  “Yes, of course,” Herman said. “We’re delighted. I wish I had known. I’m not sure I gave him the proper greeting from a father to a son.”

  “Well, he doesn’t know you’re his father, either, so I’m sure he won’t be too offended.”

  “I’d offer you something to eat but that might be messy,” Sally said. “What-all can we do for you instead?”

  “Oh, I ate on my way in. Nothing for me, thank you. Your house is lovely.” Of course it wasn’t, but manners were as deeply instilled in Meyer as they were in Sally.

  “Thank you kindly. We make due. Herm, we need to call a meeting?”

  “I think the helicopter was a pretty fair announcement,” Herman said. “Everyone appears to be here.”

  “Bring them in,” Meyer said. He motioned for the three newcomers to join him, noticing a few dirty looks from the Free Community humans. He expected it from the ones he’d not had much contact with. After all, he was one of their sworn enemies, and not all believed in the pure goodness of his heart.

  “See here, see here,” he said, raising his voice. Faces turned to him, the mouths still, the eyes curious or sullen or hostile or worshipful, depending on the owner. “Thank you for your warm welcome. As I’m sure you all remember, I’m Meyer Kidd, founder of this fine community. Co-founder, I should say. The brains behind the operation, if you will. You all look well. I’m sorry to hear of your losses.”

  The sapiens nodded and murmured and shifted.

  Meyer continued. “As you can see, I have brought three additions to join you. Parents, please speak for your little one. Herman,” he said, and Herman stepped forward. “Meet Little Herman, now known as Jay. Jay, this is your father. You’ll be living here from now on, in the Mountain Free Community. This is your mother, Sally.”

  The boy looked a bit overwhelmed as he shook Herman’s hand and returned Sally’s hug. He then took his place between them, adorably awkward in his stiff posture. Though the newcomers all looked out of place, Meyer knew from past years that they would adjust well.

  “Michelle, here is Little Michelle,” Meyer continued. “Little Michelle, these are your parents Michelle and Tom Kidd. You should be proud. Your father is one of the three original members and fathers of the Mountain Free Community. And Bip, where are you? Ah, there you are. Bip, or Little Becky, these are your parents, Becky and Neil Henson. They don’t live together, so you may choose to live with either parent.”

  He addressed the community. “Thank you all for making such a wonderful home. I hope you give these fine young people the warm welcome you gave me and help them adjust to life in your community. They are all educated, of course, and will adapt wonderfully.”

  Tom stepped forward and bowed. “Meyer Kidd, my lord. Welcome. We’re so happy you could join us in our humble gathering. We’ll do everything in our power to give these newcomers good homes and good lives. You heard of our recent misfortunes, and we’re glad to recover any part of the population we can. Two new women—that’s a great addition. We are in need of many more.”

  “What do you suggest we do to solve this need of yours?”

  “In light of our current population shortage, we have discussed in Meeting and agreed to reduce the marrying age to thirteen instead of fifteen. If we may ask for any females thirteen or older next year, we would do so.”

  “Very well, I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Thank you kindly, my lord.”

  Meyer waited and half listened to a few other requests and speeches welcoming and flattering him. He was used to it. Sapiens always bowed and scraped at his big-heartedness, as well they should. After all, he did them a great kindness for very little in return. He didn’t need to come here for bowing and scraping. He had enough of it every day. Coming here only gave him a sense of his true generosity and selflessness.

  “Come, let me walk through your community and visit with each of your families, if you would have me,” he said, as if they had a choice.

  The sapiens b
egan to filter out with their flashlights, pulling their coats tighter around them. After he’d made the rounds, he had a talk with Tom and then went back to Herman’s to await the helicopter. Herman had always been his very favorite. What a shame he’d had to give him up after all their years together. Though he’d only officially owned Herman for two years, he’d taken him from the Mountain Free Community as a sapling and seen him raised for nearly three decades. None of the other humans in Meyer’s possession had ever equaled Herman’s intelligence, resourcefulness and determination.

  “What is the punishment Tom received for losing the Superior you spoke of?” he asked Herman, after settling in at his sturdy wooden table.

  “He resigned from his position as elder,” Herman said. “If you would like to reinstate him, we’ll respect your decision. Otherwise, our decision binds him.”

  “I concur.” Meyer had always like that word and rarely had the opportunity to use it. “Who has been elected to replace him?”

  “Michelle.”

  Meyer laughed. “Very fitting, I should say. I approve your decision.”

  “We’ve had a few problems with Tom before. He…pesters some of the younger women.”

  “Yes, I do remember him having that particular fondness. That is for the community to sort out as you see fit. I don’t interfere with personal matters.”

  “Of course, my lord,” Herman said, settling himself across the table from Meyer.

  “I do need to speak to you about the Superior who escaped,” Meyer said.

  “We’ll cooperate in any way we can, of course. Though in honesty, I don’t think it’s a problem.”

  “Do you still have his papers?”

  “I believe Tom may have them.”

  “Why does Tom have them?”

  “Sally and her brother Larry found the—Superior. He was kept in the shed out back. Tom was living here at the time.”

  “Actually, I got the papers,” Sally said, her back to them as she worked at the counter.

  Herman turned to her. “You do?”

  “Yep. Want me to get them?”

  “I’ll get them. Where are they?”

  “Top of that bag of stuff in the closet.”

  Herman popped out to fetch the papers, and Sally sat down at the table across from Meyer. She shifted, leaned forward and lowered her voice. “You ain’t gonna do nothing to that man iffen you find him, now is you?”

  “I can’t have anyone know about this place. You know that. I can’t believe you took such a risk. You let him go free? You didn’t even send someone after him?”

  “He ain’t gonna say nothing.” Unlike most humans, this one did not seem awed or afraid in his presence. Her gaze was fierce and fearless.

  “How do you know?” Meyer asked, suddenly curious to hear her answer.

  “Cause I done talked to him?”

  He gave her a patronizing smile. “Oh, you did, did you? And he told you this?”

  “Yep, he did. And he ain’t told yet, and iffen he was gonna tell, he’d have done it by now, and you know it. Plus, he’s a criminal type and ain’t gonna go near no law enforcers nohow.”

  “How do you know about Enforcers?”

  “He done told me. His name’s Draven. He’s a real nice sort for a bloodsucker.”

  “I see. And I suppose you know because he told you so himself?”

  “Actually, it’s cause I talked to him a whole lot,” Sally said, her chin jutting out. “You cain’t tell Herman, neither. You’s the only one kin do something about it. Nobody else here would ever let a bloodsucker live. Excepting you, of course. Lord.”

  Before Meyer could respond, Herman returned. Sally gave Meyer one last look before standing to give Herman his seat. Herman handed Meyer the papers—work cards for a Third, a ration card that had been used and never reset, ID cards.

  “Draven Castle, is it? Well, I may have to pay this Draven a little visit.” Meyer ignored Sally’s panicked look. He stood and pushed in his chair. He had to meet his helicopter.

  Chapter 36

  Though Draven doubted the baby would survive long following the fall from the tree, it continued on, its suffering increasing with each passing night. The group of runaways rested one day longer than planned, but they could delay no further. The night they left the tarp shelter, clouds hung low above them, sagging with oppressive weight. Leo did not cry when he awoke. He stared ahead with glazed eyes.

  Even traveling at night, they progressed slowly with Cali walking. Though Cali used flashlights, she often tripped over the rough terrain. Draven carried her baby and all their possessions, leaving Cali’s hands free to break her frequent falls. The first night of travel, the wind blew at their backs with a raw, icy edge, tearing away their heat and replacing it with aching cold. The second night, snow began to fall in huge dry flakes before they’d even broken camp. Cali begged for another night’s rest, but Draven packed in silence and set off, his face grim. He knew he could not keep Cali and her baby alive in the mountains during winter. He did not imagine he could keep even himself alive, and they were but fragile humans.

  By halfway through the night, the snow had risen above their ankles. As they continued, the baby wailed himself hoarse and then fell ominously silent. Cali had stopped complaining and slogged through the snow, which soon reached mid-calf level and soaked through her trousers, the legs of which soon froze solid. The snow impeded their progress, as wading through it slowed them considerably and blinded them to the world beyond an arm’s length ahead. Even Draven’s senses were dulled by the conditions, the wind coming from the wrong direction for precise scenting and the blowing snow obscuring his night vision. Draven’s mind had begun to swirl with horrible possibilities, imagining falling asleep and waking to find his humans frozen solid beside him in the evening, or plummeting from a cliff hidden by the blizzard. But he could not afford to stop even in the treacherous conditions. They must leave the wilderness or die there.

  When dawn began to stir restlessly in the eastern sky, Draven stopped and switched off the flashlight. The snow had ceased its assault, and in the distance, a glow illuminated the horizon. Draven grasped Cali’s arm, a wave of relief flooding through him with such intensity it nearly overcame his reason.

  “Can you see?” he asked.

  “Something,” she said, her voice muffled through layers of blanket. “Lights?”

  “We’ve reached the end of the mountains.”

  “Is that good?” Her voice struggled to conceal her hope.

  “Perhaps. It won’t be so cold below. But difficult to hide.”

  “Should we sleep here?”

  “It’s further than it looks,” Draven said, knowing they’d have to cross kilometers of open land before reaching the city. “We should continue onwards. Are you very tired?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Then we shall rest. We should not light a fire, though. If they see a fire on the mountain, they may investigate.”

  For once, Cali did not protest. She tried to feed Leo while Draven erected the black lightproof tent. After shaking the snow from their shoes and clothing, they crawled inside. Through the tarp, the cold snaked up from the ground to tempt the warmth from their bodies. Draven remembered last winter, the days he had awakened to find his fingers frozen stiff.

  But they had survived the night and seen the light ahead. Hope blossomed within him upon imagining the possibilities of the plains. They too would be cold, but not as brutal as the mountains. And not as much snow would fall there.

  Sometime during the day, Leo awakened and began to cry, his voice hoarse and weak. He did not stop crying. When evening came, Draven collapsed the tent while Cali made another attempt at feeding Leo. The baby grabbed at the food and crammed it to his mouth and sucked ravenously, but after every mouthful he stopped and screamed, his face red and eyes squeezed shut. In response to Cali’s pleas for him to indicate the problem area, he only patted his stomach, his face contorted with pain.

  Draven pa
cked the camping gear, averting his eyes when he noticed Cali’s helpless expression as she tried to feed her baby. When he’d finished, he knelt beside their belongings and studied Cali for a moment. “Cali,” he said slowly. “I know that you will not like what I have to say.”

  “Then don’t say it,” she snapped, shooting him a dark look before returning her gaze to the child’s tortured face.

  “You know he is dying.”

  “I told you not to say it.”

  “You also know I speak the truth.”

  “Maybe he’s just sick. He’ll eat again tonight. Later. Maybe tomorrow.”

  “He is not sick, Cali. He wants to eat,” Draven insisted. “Something likely happened when he fell, something inside that we cannot see…”

  “No, it didn’t,” Cali said, glaring at Draven. She took a deep breath and raised her chin defiantly. “I looked at him and he only has a few bruises. I know what you want. You just want to suck his blood, and you think if I say he’s dying, that I’ll let you. Well, I won’t, so you can just stop your words.”

  Draven pressed his lips together and thought of the promise Cali had made, that she’d do as he asked. He could have reminded her. But she was just a sap, human and emotional, grieving for her child.

  “Very well,” he said, standing and shouldering the pack. “Though I imagine it would be humane to put an end to his suffering.”

  “He’s not a mad dog, okay? He’s a person. You can’t just put a person out of their misery because they’re hurt. And besides, you’re not a doctor. You don’t know what’s wrong with him. Maybe he just has a stomachache.”

  “Then give him to me and let us go.”

  “Are you going to bite him?”