by Jim Heskett
An information board sat in the middle of the street, and Yorick approached it. There were dozens of various pages stapled to it, including several pleas to find missing people, many with pictures of their loved ones. Other pages showed items for trade or offers for carpenters to build homes, outfitters selling weapons and gear.
“No,” Rosia said, and she pointed at a page stapled near the top. Her jaw dropped.
Yorick rubbed his eyes and squinted at the printed sheet, the lower corners rippling in the breeze. A declaration from the king, with four individual pictures below it.
By order of His Majesty King Nichol:
Reward offered for the capture of four serfs formerly in the service of Lord Roque Beauregard Wybert, of Jackson plantación, for the murder of members of the King’s Royal Army and inciting a riot within the plantación walls of one of the king’s loyal vassals.
A reward of 50kg of gold, offered for proof of capture.
Dead or alive.
1 Soldado: soldier
2 Jefe: boss
Chapter Six
After seeing the declaration from the king calling for their heads, they decided to split into two groups. While Yorick and Rosia wandered off toward the hotel at the end of the street, Tenney took Malina down the side streets, seeking anyone with a car who looked like they might be willing to trade bullets for a ride south along the highway.
The gate guard had said they’d have a hard time. Tenney had to believe it could be done. This journey had to continue. Not that he and Malina had an obvious motive to accompany Yorick across the border south to Colorado to find his parents in the small town of Harmony. But, they did have their reasons. The desire to keep on the move seemed like a valid excuse to stay with their friends, for now.
The constant danger of being in Wyoming was another legitimate reason to get far away from here as quickly as possible.
Discovering the king’s reward had been unsettling, for sure. But, the pictures of the four of them on that page had been grainy and distant. All of them had been photographed separately, from above, somehow. Photos taken by the snipers on top of the plantación walls, perhaps? Or, did the king have secret cameras positioned farther in the sky?
Tenney suspected the latter because he got the impression that Wybert wasn’t happy about being one of the king’s subjects. The robots they had found in the tunnels underneath his mansion had suggested Wybert intended to wage war against the king, but who knew anything for sure. Wybert wasn’t around now for them to ask.
And, speaking of this would sound like a conspiracy theory, but Tenney could recall days working in the fields, when there would be a whine in the air, like the closeup buzz of a hummingbird’s wings. But, there were no birds to be seen. Some believed there were tiny airplanes that could fly at incredible speeds, so fast as to not be seen. Perhaps, if these things were real, they had cameras on them.
No one could say exactly how far the king’s reach extended.
True or not, secret camera or not, it didn’t matter. What mattered now was finding transport. But, should they even still proceed south? Yorick had his heart set on finding his parents in a Colorado border town, but that would only put them closer to the king. Closer to his armies.
Maybe traveling north was the smarter plan. Maybe he could talk Yorick and Rosia into changing their course.
As he and Malina wandered along the street, she rubbed her hands up and down her arms as if she were cold, despite the heat rising with the sun. Tenney pulled her close to him, his arms around her shoulders as they walked.
“The notice on the board back there?” he asked.
She nodded. “I thought it was over. I thought with Wybert dead, they wouldn’t care about us anymore.”
Tenney looked around to make sure no one was listening to their conversation. The mention of Wybert’s name in public wasn’t a smart idea. He escorted Malina into an alley between two buildings and gently took her in his arms. He held her out to meet his eyes.
“We’re going to get away from this. Once we’re far away from the plantación, no one will care anymore. Enough time and distance and it will go away. They must have bigger problems than the four of us, right?”
“But we did the things they said we did. We killed members of the king’s army. Do you think King Nichol will forget about that? Why would he?”
Tenney opened his mouth to respond, but he couldn’t think of a proper rebuttal. She was right. All of his life, Tenney had heard of Nichol’s ruthlessness and his ability to hold grudges. They’d watched summer plays about it at the outdoor auditorium.
The truth was, he had no idea how far Nichol would go to capture and kill them.
“No matter what happens,” Tenney said, “you and I are going to stay together. You and I are going to find a way to get out of this. Maybe even onto a boat, to sail off to Europe.”
She raised an eyebrow at him. “What’s Europe?”
“It’s a place far, far away. You have to cross the water to get there. I heard some of the guards talking about it one night when they were drunk and playing Fours in the cafeteria. They don’t have kings and lords there. Anyone can go and be free, without having to be a slave to some idiota in a funny hat.”
She smiled and opened her mouth to speak, but stopped short when the sound of footsteps in the dirt interrupted them.
“Hey,” said a nearby voice. Tenney and Malina looked behind them to see two men at the open end of the alley. Dressed in crumbling rags, these two men marched in their direction.
Both had shaved heads with red marks like severe sunburn on their scalps. Both of them wore goggles to shield their eyes. The taller one had fingerless gloves on, and the exposed tips of his fingers had the same red rash, like a kind of sun sickness. Their skin looked ready to fall off their bones, right there onto the street.
“Good day and kind weather,” the tall one said, although there was no neighborly look in his eyes.
Tenney pushed Malina behind and pivoted his large body toward them to shield her. He didn’t like this. Not at all. These two were large enough to block off the exit to the alley.
The shorter one of the two men pointed a crooked finger at Malina. “Your light-skinned friend there. Is she a Frenchie?”
Tenney reached behind him and gave Malina a little push, back toward the end of the alley where it terminated in a brick wall. He stepped backward with her. Not the direction they should be moving, but Tenney didn’t know what else to do.
The two men matched their movements.
“We have no problem with you,” Tenney said. “Please leave us alone.”
“Listen to his accent,” the tall one said to the short one. “What does that sound like to you?”
“Farmer,” the short one said. “Definitely. Maybe even a serf.”
The tall one grinned. “Where did you two escape from?”
Tenney said nothing, only continued to guide Malina back a few more steps. His eyes darted left and right, looking for something he could use to distract them so he and Malina could get around these two.
“It’s no matter to us,” the tall one said. “We don’t care where you come from, really. All we want to know is: how much for the girl?”
Tenney’s jaw set. “What are you talking about?”
“The Frenchie. How much do you want for her?”
The shorter one licked his sun-cracked lips. “Frenchie girls are rare around here, that’s for sure. I’ve heard about the special talents they have, and I want to try it for myself.”
“She’s not for sale,” Tenney said. “Turn around and leave us be before I make you.”
The two kept advancing. The tall one reached into his pocket and pulled out a black cylindrical device, about twenty centimeters long. He pressed a button on the side and a swarming ring of electricity danced at one end. He held it out in front of him like a knife.
“We’re trying to be civil,” he said. “We’ll pay for the girl. If you won’t accept our gol
d, then we’ll take her, anyway. Only the stars know why you’re making this so hard, farm boy.”
They stopped a meter away. Tenney decided not to wait any longer. Also, he opted not to take out one of the pistols they’d discovered at the mountain house. Shooting two townspeople thirty minutes after arriving was not the way he wanted to begin their stay in Pinedale.
Tenney jumped forward and swatted at the device. As he brought his hand down, the tall one jabbed it upward, and the electrified end connected with Tenney’s shoulder. A burst of pain, unlike anything he had ever known coursed through his body. His eyes slammed shut. His teeth clenched together.
But, he recovered. He kept his downward momentum and knocked the device out of the guy’s hand. It tumbled to the ground and shut off as it hit the dirt, once again transforming into a harmless baton.
Tenney clenched his fist and popped the tall one in the mouth. He felt teeth crackle under the force of his punch. With his momentum twisting his body one way, Tenney swung his other fist into the guy’s gut, knocking him back a step. The guy’s head rolled around on his shoulders, then he sunk to his feet.
The shorter one, eyes wide at how quickly and thoroughly Tenney had dismantled his friend, turned and ran. In an instant, the alley became quiet again.
“Tenney,” Malina said, worry in her tone.
“I know,” he said.
“This is bad.”
“I know.” He turned and gripped her hand. “We need to get out of here.”
Chapter Seven
After they split up, Yorick and Rosia wandered down the main street, on high alert. Even though the photographs of them on the king’s wanted poster were grainy and hard to make out, it did not feel good to know they were being hunted.
Yes, they had killed the royal soldados during the battle for the plantación. But the king’s men had taken the first shots that day. Not that it would matter to King Nichol, a man who, by all accounts, did not seem to be the type of person who would let matters like this slide.
Yorick and Rosia said little as they entered the hotel at the far end of the street. It was one of the tallest buildings in town—maybe four stories tall—and the first floor seem to be made up of a reception area for hotel check-in, and then a bar. When the guard at the front had directed them toward the hotel, Yorick assumed he was referring to the bar.
A rail-thin man standing behind the reception desk at the hotel portion gave them a snide look, staring. He didn’t open his mouth to greet them. As they crossed the room, Yorick wanted to say something to him. After the non-stop tension of the last few weeks, a good explosive outburst would make him feel better. But, Yorick was smart enough to know that any relief would be short-lived, and mouthing off would put them at risk.
He was supposed to be the level-headed one, after all.
A plaque on the wall made mention of the Jefe, the town’s boss. It stated that this hotel was officially sanctioned by Jefe and had paid lifetime taxes and fees to operate here. Yorick wondered how much a lifetime of taxes and fees had cost the establishment.
They walked up to the bar and sat. Neither Yorick nor Rosia had ever had this experience before. They'd read about it in books but never encountered one in real life. Neither of them had ever consumed alcohol. The guards at the plantación would regularly drink, and the fieldworkers made their own wine, but guerreros were never allowed to imbibe. It would interfere with their training, Wybert had said.
The bartender, a squat man with a furry handlebar mustache, looked at Yorick with expectant eyes. Not as hostile as the hotel clerk, but not welcoming, either.
"Beer," Yorick said. Rosia echoed his order, and in a few seconds the bartender sat their drinks down in front of them. When Yorick sipped his, he did his best to hide the wince on his face. The beverage tasted like someone had mixed grass and dirt into juice.
Rosia grinned and pointed at his face. "You have some stuff up there.”
She giggled as he reached to wipe foam from his upper lip. His facial hair was scratchy because, in the time since they’d left the plantación, shaving had been low on his priority list. Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t bathed in a while, either.
They spent a few minutes at the bar, sipping their drinks and trying to hide their distaste for the sour beverage while waiting for someone to appear who might provide transportation. Yorick cast a look down at the hardwood floor, covered with sawdust and dirt from the road outside.
“What are you thinking about?” Yorick asked when he noted Rosia staring off into space.
“Hamon,” she said.
“I think about him a lot, too.”
Rosia’s thin fingers trailed up and down her glass. “It’s not fair he doesn’t get to see this. The outside world. If that idiota Diego hadn’t cheated and pulled his chip in battle, he wouldn’t have ended up last. He wouldn’t have disappeared inside the mansion and died. He would be out here, free, with us.”
Yorick resisted the urge to reply with a question about whether they were actually free. Instead, he nodded in agreement while checking around to make sure no one was listening. Talking too loudly about the plantación probably wouldn’t be the smart move.
“He would be in charge out here,” Yorick said. “Hamon would be the one who knew what to do next.”
“He always did know the right thing to do. It came easily to him.”
Yorick leaned across the table and took her hands, linking his fingers between hers. “We’re going to figure out what to do next. Maybe we’re on our own now, but we can do this. You and me. You more than me, obviously, but together, we’re a good team.”
She smiled, and they continued to sip their unappealing drinks in silence until a couple of men wandered in and sat at a back table. Within a few seconds of listening to their rambunctious conversation, Yorick knew they needed to get closer to eavesdrop. He met Rosia's eyes and tilted his head toward a table nearer to them.
Yorick and Rosia sat at the table, nursing their beers. The men appeared to be what they referred to as "truck drivers," like the drivers who piloted the hulking machines that brought goods into the plantación and carried fruit and other things out of the plantación.
"All the way from Cheyenne?" the darker one asked.
“Five hundred and twelve whole kilometers,” the lighter one said, nodding.
The dark one whistled, his eyebrows raised in a show of awe. "I'm surprised you could get that much juice out of your batteries. I can barely squeak out two hundred on a sunny day.”
The lighter one smirked. "Who said my rig runs on batteries?"
The darker one leaned forward and lowered his voice. "Diesel? Are you serious?"
The light one shrugged as if to say he wasn't allowed to answer. "The thing is, it's not going to matter much longer."
"Why is that?"
"They're closing the gate."
The dark one cocked his head. "The Cheyenne gate? Into Colorado?"
Yorick’s eyes popped open wide. He turned his head, so his ear was pointed directly at them.
"Yes," the light one said, nodding. "The king’s mad about a flood of immigration moving south into Colorado. The rumor is, he's closing up the border wall for good in six days. Not just on the Wyoming side. All of them.”
The dark one sat back, scratching his chin with a long fingernail. "That's going to put me in a bad spot. I got runs scheduled to Pueblo for next week."
The lighter one’s words settled on both Yorick and Rosia at the same time. To get to Harmony, they had to cross the border. The only place to cross the border—according to everything they learned so far—was at these major tunnel crossings through the big city walls. And the only entry from the north into Colorado was in Cheyenne.
In six days their hopes of getting into Harmony would close, along with that gate.
Chapter Eight
When Valentine arrived in Pinedale, she was upset to discover her companions were not there waiting for her. But, only a little. Blaine an
d Red would leave her behind in an instant, sure, but not Galeno. She expected better from him.
There were any number of reasons why they might not be here. Maybe they hadn't been let in the city gates. Maybe they'd been here and had been caught stealing and were driven out of town. Or—and this was the most likely answer—they decided that since Valentine had left them to go exploring on her own, they were no longer interested in keeping her as part of their crew.
This was fine with Valentine. She had a new purpose, anyway, and she could always catch up with Galeno later in Colorado. She’d have to return his hip pack at some point. In addition to emergency gold and fake border crossing documents, it had the key to his storage unit in that little border town. He’d probably want it back.
First, she saw the large one and his pale girlfriend walking through town, worried looks on their faces. Valentine kept her distance as she followed them. If these four were from the plantación, as she suspected, then they had probably never experienced anything like the local populace of Pinedale. Maybe they'd been offered drugs they had never even heard of. Or, given that the girl had a light complexion making her look like a Frenchie, someone had probably tried to either buy her or kidnap her. You didn't see too many light-skinned pretty girls in this part of the kingdom.
Valentine followed them until they eventually met up with the other two. They all collected in the empty lot between the hotel and the drugstore, forming a circle.
Valentine raced around to the back of the drugstore and climbed the fire escape. Within ten seconds, she was kneeling on the edge of the roof, staring down at them directly. She had learned all of their names within the first minute. Yorick was the handsome young leader, Rosia was his girlfriend. The beefy one was Tenney, and the pale one, Malina.
