In another half hour Goose arrived pulling the tanker. Serene slid off the bike and walked back to where he was.
“Where’s the special water?” she asked.
“For Crave?” he whispered.
She nodded. He pointed. She filled the waterskin she’d scooped up from the sand with Flora’s special recipe and strode ahead to Crave.
She said nothing, just handed him the waterskin. He looked at it for a minute without taking it. Finally Serene said, “You dropped this on the sand back there.” She couldn’t be sure, but she thought she saw the corner of his mouth stretch just a little. More importantly, he accepted the waterskin. She held the blanket tent up while he took a drink and looped the full waterskin over his shoulder.
Satisfied that she’d done all possible for the moment, Serene waited for Free to catch up and climbed on the bike again. As the afternoon wore on, there was a steady stream of arrivals that included the second tanker laden with fuel, water, blankets, and lamps. Word of Crave’s self-imposed penance spread quickly through the community until, by the time they reached the north end of salt flats, there were over a hundred riders on half as many bikes, all come to let Crave know he wasn’t alone.
It was a strange and unusual sight. So many motorcycles tented by bright colorfully patterned fabrics waving in the breeze, all following one lone man on foot holding a gray blanket over his head.
Free was filled with pride and emotion over the show of support being demonstrated by the people with whom he’d forged a new world. He wasn’t entirely sure why they were there. He knew it was a statement of loyalty and empathy, and that no one present would ever forget. They might someday tell their grandchildren about the day the Exiled voluntarily crossed the wasteland together. In mid-summer. At the pace of a snail.
Free didn’t know if Crave knew or understood what was happening behind him, but he hoped he did.
Once every hour Serene tied one of the skirts over Free’s head under his chin so that she could move to the front and tend to Crave. Free with a skirt on his head was a sight that would have made her giggle under other circumstances. She would tie another over her own head, slather on some of Flora’s skin healer and protector, then make the rounds of Crave’s crew giving them fresh water while they rode. By that time, the water was about the same temperature as the desert air, but at least it was wet. So they were grateful to get it.
Whenever a bike was close to running out of fuel, the rider dropped back to the tanker, filled up, and regained their place in the makeshift formation.
Crave discarded the first waterskin that had been filled with the enhanced liquid. She grabbed it, refilled it from his special container, and carried it to the front of the procession. As she handed it over, she said, “Here. You dropped this.”
It was evident to everyone in the strange parade that Crave had slowed. He was still moving in a straight line, but he’d gradually decreased his pace from marching to trudging to plodding.
At sundown, when the temperature plummeted, there was a brief period of relief between baking hot and freezing cold. Serene used it to get ready for the next phase. She and some of the other passengers passed out blankets from the second trailer.
“Tie the skirts around your necks first. You can use the extra layer for warmth and you’ll be ready for tomorrow morning,” she instructed.
“What happens tomorrow morning?” Scape asked.
“Gods willing, the sun comes up again,” she replied.
As the last light faded, Serene had her helpers pass out her secret stash. Before she and Free left Newland, she’d stopped at the Commons and told them to fill every closed container they could find with Exiled full-bodied red ale and put two more casks on the trailer. It was a good plan. She knew the ale would warm their blood and help them pass safely through the cold of the night.
Finally, one thing went in their favor. The breeze that had whipped up sand and salt, adding to their misery all day, laid that night. At least they wouldn’t have wind chill to add to the barely tolerable environment.
She filled a waterskin for Crave with red ale first. There was still water in the skin she’d brought him from before, but she knew the less explaining the better. So she jerked the partly consumed skin off his shoulder and handed him the one with the ale saying, “Here, you dropped this.”
She held her breath until he took it, knowing that warming his blood with alcohol might be the razor’s edge difference.
After that she lit the oil lamps and handed them off to her passenger helpers to disperse, making sure that most of the lamps were concentrated in the front, with a few spread out at the rear. The lamps had inverted u-shaped handles so that they could hang on handlebars and, at that speed, on that terrain, ride with no problem.
Serene smiled when she heard the evidence that people were discovering their containers held ale instead of water. They raised their voices to the night in hoots, hollers, and salutations such as, “Praise the gods and the Extant’s wife!”
Crave was flanked by a brace of crew members and their passengers with his parents and brother riding directly behind him. He was entering a sort of altered state, partly due to sleep deprivation, in which his consciousness had room for one thing only - forward momentum. Originally he’d tricked his mind into believing that stopping was not an option, but at some point his mind had accepted the belief as true and taken over, directing his body to keep moving in spite of protests from muscles and nerve endings. His body, much recovered since his release from the holding facility, was young enough and strong enough to comply with the extreme demands being made of it.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
When the sun went down, Trace climbed to the plateau where Dandelion had taken up lookout. She arrived carrying an oil lamp and a thermos of steaming hot soup. Dandy immediately opened it and took a drink that warmed her all the way down.
“Hmmm,” she said. “So good. Thank you.”
Trace sat down next to her on the blanket that was spread on the ground. She was wearing her winter coat and had another blanket with her.
“There’d be no shame in coming inside, Dandy.”
Dandelion gave no answer at first. She took another swallow of soup and closed her eyes from the goodness of the taste and the warmth it spread before saying, “I know. It’s not about shame. I don’t know if I can explain.”
Trace sighed. “You know when we were growing up, everybody thought the thing between you and Crave was, I don’t know, a little weird.”
Dandy laughed. “Why?”
“Because you were very young to settle on a mate. But honestly, I think everybody was envious.”
“You, too?”
“Maybe me especially. You never felt alone.”
“Not until the last few years.”
“Yeah.”
“It’s cold. You should go back inside.”
“I thought I’d keep you company.”
Dandy was touched by that gesture. “You’re a good friend, Trace. And it means so much that you’re here. But somebody has to take care of the kids because tomorrow they’re going to wake up full of piss just like always.” She took another drink of soup. When Trace made no move to leave, she said, “Who’s taking care of my kids?”
“Sabre.”
Dandy nodded. “That’s good.”
When she finished the soup, Trace took the thermos. “Well, if you’re sure. I’m going to head inside.”
“Yes. I’m sure. Go in.”
Trace got to her feet, but shed the blankets she was wearing. “Here. You’re going to need these.” She draped them around Dandy and started away.
“Wait.” Trace stopped. “You think you could find me something with alcohol?”
Trace laughed. “You know that’s against the rules at Fosterland.” Dandy waited. “Yeah. I think the builders probably have something fresh. I’ll go see. Plus, it gives me an excuse to knock on their door.” She winked.
Fifteen minutes later, she r
eturned with some extra hard cider. It might not be as effective as ale, but it would definitely make the night go better.
“You want me to leave the lamp?”
Dandy shook her head. “No. Take it. I’d just as soon let my eyes adjust to the dark.”
“Okay. See you in the morning.”
“See ya.”
When Trace withdrew, taking the light with her, Dandy pulled the pile of blankets tighter around her. She thought that she should feel very alone sitting there in the darkness looking out at the black of a moonless night on the desert below. But oddly, she didn’t feel alone.
Crave was coming.
Saying those three words in her head caused her to gasp involuntarily as her lungs demanded to be filled all the way to capacity. Perhaps she hadn’t taken in a full breath since Crave had been taken. Perhaps she’d thought she never would again.
She never for an instant accept the possibility that Crave wouldn’t make it. When he was determined, he was a force so formidable that nothing could stand against him. Not heat or cold or lack of sleep or exhaustion. She knew this in her soul.
Crave was coming.
And he was returning to her as a male who felt redeemed.
Around midnight she heard someone approaching in the darkness. She could make out the half-grown figure of one of the orphans. Judging by the size, she guessed it might be one of hers. Since they were the oldest of the children, they were also the biggest.
She could tell by the way he walked that it was a male. She didn’t call out, but waited silently to see what would happen. When he came closer, she saw that it was Dread. Of all the Rautt orphans who might be future trouble, she’d name him the most likely suspect, not because of causing trouble, but because of his silence and the way he stared, taking everything in, giving nothing away.
The Rautt were hybrids like Exiled, but they weren’t engineered the same way. Whereas, the Exiled were mostly human-feline, Rautt were something else. Possibly human-canine. Their coloring was different from Exiled, and their were slight differences in their posture, carriage, and overall attitude.
Dread’s hair was a mixture of black and gray, sort of attractive in Dandy’s opinion. His eyes were gray and piercing with what she thought could be spite, hatred, perhaps malice. He didn’t speak, but watched everything around him with an alert intensity that conveyed intelligence.
He stopped next to her and held something out in his hand.
“What’s this?” she said, as she reached for the offering.
“Tea,” he said in a surprisingly gruff voice, surprising because she’d never heard him speak before. “Hot.”
She smiled, feeling a little amazed. “You brought me tea?” He didn’t answer. Even eleven-year-olds can recognize rhetorical questions when they hear them. She opened the top of the thermos and sniffed. Thoughts of poison did flit across her brain, but intuition told her it was safe. She took a sip. “Thank you, Dread. It’s good.”
He didn’t reply. He also didn’t leave.
“Do you want to sit down?” He hesitated, but she could tell he was debating. “It’s cold. You need to either share these blankets with me or go back to the dorm.”
He sat down next to her.
Sensing that he’d be uncomfortable with too much closeness, she pulled the top two blankets from the pile around her shoulders and draped them over him.
When he was settled, she said, “So. If you’re staying for a while, why don’t you talk to me and help me stay awake?”
He fidgeted next to her for a minute or two and then said, “Why are you out here?”
“Do you know what love is?”
“Not really.”
“Well, there are different kinds. I mean the kind of love that happens between mates when they’re meant for each other. When a male and a female are perfect for each other, they want to be together and there’s nothing better in the world.
“When I was just a little older than you are now, I found that I loved somone like that. The war caused us to be separated for a long time. Then he lost his memory for a while. He didn’t know who I was. He didn’t know anybody. Didn’t even know his own name. I was sad. So I came here to be with you and the other children. And that made me feel better.
“Now my special somebody has his memory again. He knows what we are to each other, but thinks he needs to prove to me that he still feels the same. So he’s on the way here. Crossing that desert out there on foot. It’s very dangerous and very, very hard. I don’t think anybody has ever done it.
“I can’t help him do this thing he feels he needs to do, but I can sit here and wait for him. I don’t expect you to understand. Even the other grownups don’t get it.”
Dread shifted uneasily next to her and was quiet for a while, but broke his silence at length. “I understand.”
“You do?”
“When he comes, your male, are you going to leave?”
“Honestly, I haven’t thought about it.”
She was aware that he was fidgeting in a nervous sort of way before he said, “I don’t want you to go.”
That simple statement caused a flood of emotion to wash over her. She knew it must have been hard for someone like Dread to make that admission.
When she’d come to Fosterland, her goal was to stay so busy during the day she didn’t have time to think about Crave, and to be so tired at night she had no choice but to sleep.
She hadn’t expected to become fond of the children. Or to feel needed. It was a strange ball of sensations that took root and tangled around her heart. She made her decision on impulse, but nothing had ever felt more right.
“I want to. I can’t promise because I have somebody else to take into consideration, but I hope to stay. Thank you for telling me how you feel. It means a lot to me. And I know you wanted an honest grownup answer. So that’s what I’m giving you.”
They stared out at the darkness for a long time in companionable silence.
“Do you want me to go get him for you?” he said. Dandy was still unused to the sound of Dread’s deep gruff tones, so incongruent with his size. Her mind had to process what was being said while trying to reconcile the strangeness of the delivery at the same time.
Dandy suppressed a laugh, but allowed herself a smile. It seemed it was a night for learning that people besides Crave held her in affectionate regard.
“That’s the most heroic thing anyone has ever said to me, Dread. And I’ll never forget it. But Crave has to do this all by himself.”
“That’s his name?”
“Yes. Crave.”
“What’s he like?”
“He’s strong and handsome. Like you’re going to be when you grow up. But that’s not the most important thing. The most important thing is that he’s fiercely loyal. No one is more ferocious in a fight, or so I’m told. But he’s gentle and caring with those who are not as strong, like me and the young where I’m from in Newland. He’s liked by his friends. He’s good at games. And there’s a possibility that he is the most stubborn person ever born.”
It clawed at Dandelion’s heart when she heard Dread ask, “Will he like me?”
She thought about her answer. Truthfully, she didn’t know how Crave would feel about the children of his tormentors.
“If he doesn’t like you, then he’s an ass.”
Dread threw back his head and barked out a joyful laugh. And Dandy thought it was the most precious gift she’d ever received, next to having been given Crave’s heart when she was about the same age as the boy sitting next to her.
“It means so much to me that you brought me tea and came to keep me company on my watch, but now, speaking as your monitor, I want you to go back inside. Go to bed. Get your sleep. Because tomorrow is another day.”
He began to shuffle a little. “I know how to build a fire. It would keep you warmer.”
“That’s a really tempting offer, but the light would interfere with my night vision and I wouldn’t be able to se
e him coming.”
“He’s lucky,” Dread said before returning the blankets by laying them over Dandy’s shoulders as they’d been before.
That two-word phrase almost broke down the barrier she’d built against tears because that was what Crave used to say. I’m lucky to have you, Dandy. Nothing ever did more for her sense of self-worth than hearing that from Crave.
She listened to Dread’s retreating footsteps and wondered how he’d managed to slip past Sabre. She must either be a really sound sleeper or the kid was stealth personified.
She took a few more drinks of the good stuff, feeling the warmth slide down her esophagus and heat up her belly. She didn’t know if she could send her thoughts across space from the Fosterland promontory, where she sat cross-legged, to Crave’s heart, but she hoped he felt the love that had never, for a moment, stopped burning for him. Not even when it was a painful, third degree burn.
Near daylight it was so cold the band of Exiled following Crave were shivering. Those who had less fat on their bodies were shaking from the cold in spite of the alcohol’s warming agent. Add to that the fatigue and desire to sleep and some of the bikes were weaving. Crave decided that it was time to give everybody something else to think about.
Having a reputation for a strong and beautiful singing voice, he was the perfect choice to lead the group in song. Those who could sing opened their mouths and joined in. Those who couldn’t, or wouldn’t, recited the words in their head. But everyone responded, allowing the music to open their hearts and they thrilled in the solidarity of Exiled overcoming tribulation together.
On the day of reckoning
By the angel’s hand
Came the Exiled to freedom
In a place called Newland.
They lived and loved
As children of gods
CRAVE (Exiled Book 2) Page 16
