Fortunately I found the wall rotted, so I had no trouble pulling it free. I tied the rubber band through the holes on each end. And just like that, I had a slingshot. I tucked it into the pocket containing my spile.
Now to find myself some dinner.
Three sunsets and three sunrises passed. My belly felt full and I’d found a stream, so I didn’t have to use my spile anymore. There must have been other hunters somewhere in the forest, too, because I’d discovered the shaft of an arrow with the arrowhead still attached. That allowed me to abandon my jagged shard of glass, and instead use the arrowhead to clean my game. Much easier.
But what now? I’d dashed cousin Jennifer a letter before I’d gotten on the cargo ship to tell her I was coming, and to wait for me. Surely she was wondering where I was by now… or maybe she’d assumed I’d changed my mind and had chosen not to come. Or even that something had happened to me on the way over.
I tried to tell myself that this was for the best. If I’d seen my stepfather at the funeral, I really don’t know what might have happened.
Well. Yes I did.
I sighed, sitting on a boulder beside my stream and snacking on the remainder of the dried jerky from my last kill.
The truth was, I had an even bigger problem than missing my mom’s funeral, or not knowing where I was at the moment. I knew I’d find my way to a harbor sooner or later, and I’d manage to buy or barter my way on board.
My problem now was, once I got back to Iceland, what would I live for?
I smirked at myself for being so dramatic. But the fact was, ever since I was a kid, I’d envisioned the Republic as this magical place where all my dreams would come true. My mother’s letters had made it sound that way, and my aunt and uncle had too. I’d grown up practically worshiping Grandfather, mastering every lesson he could teach me—but I’d always had some vague idea that what he taught me were skills I could use when I got to the Republic. Somehow that had been the point of it all. I’d just figured I’d come to the Republic and—what? Leave my mark somehow? Make a difference? Change the world in this land of “endless opportunity?”
I froze, and just barely cocked my head to the left. I hadn’t heard a rustle in the trees, but it was there all the same. Probably 300 yards away.
Slowly I reached my hand into my cargo pocket, withdrawing the slingshot and one of the smooth stones I’d found in the stream. I needed another kill anyway, either today or tomorrow. This one sounded big.
Wait a minute… I cocked my head to the right this time, and realized there was more than one animal. It didn’t feel like they were traveling together, either—they were too far apart for that. I listened, feeling the air currents. One of them moved aimlessly; the other very deliberately closing the gap between them. This was a hunter and its prey.
I got to my feet and crept into the stream, to mask both my scent and my sound. The other hunter and I had the beast triangulated, whatever it was. But something about the way the other hunter moved led me to believe he didn’t yet know that he was not alone.
There. Through the thicket, some 120 yards away, I saw a deer munching on leaves, heedless of its danger. I scanned the trees in the circumference around it even as I fitted a stone into my slingshot and took aim. I wasn’t sure if the other hunter was human or beast, but I didn’t want it to take me by surprise. I pulled back on the slingshot and released.
The stone made contact, sinking into the deer’s forehead right between its eyes. It crumpled, but I didn’t move yet—I waited for the other hunter to reveal himself first.
“Hey!” cried a voice. “Who’s there?”
Barely twenty yards from where the deer fell, a man stepped out from the shadows. He was tall and thick, with close cropped salt and pepper hair. He wore an odd combination of flannel and animal skins, and he held a bow in his hand with a quiver on his back.
Despite the distance between us, I could tell that he did not wear the same hangdog expression I’d seen on the faces of the people in the city. I stood up.
The man’s jaw dropped when he saw me. “How did you hit that thing from all the way over there?” he demanded. Then he stooped to inspect the deer, and stood up again, adding, “With a slingshot? Are you serious?”
I wasn’t sure how to answer that question. “I’ve done a lot of hunting,” I said as I approached him.
“I guess you have!” When he reached me, he smiled, and I saw the flesh around his eyes crinkle. I liked him immediately. He stuck out a hand and said, “I’m Nick.” He inspected my face for a minute, like he was looking for something. “You’re not from around here.”
“I just got to this country a few days ago, from Iceland. It’s—not quite what I expected.”
“I see,” said Nick, his expression still probing. He didn’t trust me, but I wasn’t sure why. “And you’re out here because?”
He wanted me to volunteer first, before he’d tell me whatever he was holding back. Well, why not? I had nothing to lose. “I’m originally from here, but I moved to Iceland as a kid when this was still the United States. I know it turned into the Republic because of the economy somehow, but that’s all I know. My mom’s letters made it sound like the Republic was wonderful. I’ve dreamed of coming back here my whole life.” I gave a short laugh. “I guess I don’t have to tell you that this place wasn’t what I had in mind.”
I saw Nick relax visibly. “I can imagine.”
“So your turn,” I said.
“Pardon me?”
“Whatever it is that you’re afraid of from me, you don’t need to be. I’m on the run, I assume same as you.”
Nick regarded me for a moment, and then relented. “Fair enough. I’m the head of the Refugee Hunters.”
“The Refugee Hunters?” I repeated.
Nick nodded. “Not like that’s an official title. We are what we are, but we explain ourselves that way to outsiders. You haven’t told me your name yet, though.”
“Jackson MacNamera,” I told him. I volunteered my last name too, just as an extra show of trust.
Nick shook my hand, and smiled. “Tell you what. If you’ll share your kill with us, I’ll take you back to the caves with me. I think we can help each other. We could definitely use another hunter like you!”
I nodded my agreement to sharing the kill and going back to the caves, though I wasn’t sure what he meant by becoming one of their hunters. Still, I was tired of being on my own.
“Tell me about the Republic,” I said, as the two of us set to work on cleaning and packaging the deer meat. “What’s going on here?”
“How much do you know?” Nick countered.
I shrugged, wiping the humidity from my forehead with the back of my hand and accepting a cleaning knife from Nick gratefully. “I already told you all of it. I’ve literally been here less than a day.”
“Okay, I’ll give you the short version,” said Nick. “When I was a young man, I worked in the finance industry actually—didn’t start hunting until later. So I had a front row seat when the United States went broke. This country was founded by people who relied on themselves, each other and their God to see them through. But over time that sense of community, willingness to sacrifice for their own future or the good of others began to decline. Both the rich and the poor “worked the system” and people became increasingly self-focused. The government made more and more impossible promises to supply all the needs of the poor while the rich imagined new and riskier ways to increase their personal wealth. The moral rot gave way to financial rot. There wasn’t enough tax revenue to pay for all the commitments so the government borrowed and printed more and more dollars. When the schemes of the rich suddenly imploded, huge government dollars were spent to save the poor from the impact. Class warfare resulted as the poor hated the rich and everybody hated and blamed each other. Both the economy and the society were unsustainable. The now-worthless U.S. dollar ceased to be the world currency standard and the whole system collapsed on itself.
“Our money might as well have been toilet paper. Businesses collapsed, people lost their jobs and their homes, and couldn’t afford to buy anything—so they started stealing whatever they needed. Then the few remaining businesses went under, until all the resources were consumed and nobody had anything.
“That’s when the rioting started,” he went on. “The former U.S. Congress, or what was left of it, reassembled themselves as the Tribunal, and tried to enforce a police state. They didn't have the manpower to arrest all the rioters or the prisons to house them, so they just gunned down citizens at will.”
I’d stopped cleaning the deer, gaping at Nick and trying to make sense of this story, compared to the one my aunt and uncle had told me for so many years.
“Enter Ben Voltolini,” Nick smiled humorlessly, “a smooth talking billionaire with a brilliant idea of how to enforce order and turn the nation around, and he had the money to back it. His self-serving lies were cleverly disguised as a solid plan to restore the country. Voltolini had a two step plan—which, by the way, I didn’t learn about until I got to the caves and we all pieced together what we knew,” he added. “First, he released a genetically engineered virus on the entire nation to make everyone anemic, so they’d stop fighting. Then, he enforced mandatory brainwave screening sites around the nation. He called them ‘Liberty Boxes.’”
I closed my eyes.
Nick went on, not noticing, “In the beginning, in order to enforce the screening on a mass scale, Voltolini offered rations of food to those who came willingly, and the threat of jail to those who didn’t. A few still didn’t show. Those they tracked down—their technology can detect and locate undocumented brain waves. If they find anybody unregistered, they send an agent to hunt them down.”
“Why? What’s the point?”
Nick stopped working too and looked up at me. “You noticed something odd about the citizens of the Republic, didn’t you?”
I nodded.
“They’ve been brainwashed to think they’re living in affluence. Consequently, they adore the government. Especially the Potentate.”
I blinked at him. In my mind, I heard Agent Dunne asking, “What do you see? What do you see? What do you see?”
“These days, anyone who resists first gets another injection of the virus, to make them docile, and see if they can be rehabilitated. If that doesn’t work, they’re eliminated.” He grimaced. “It’s the Potentate’s way of quelling a potential revolution. He doesn’t know about us, of course. We’re too far out for them to pick up our brainwaves.”
I was still stuck on the first part of that story. The injection of the virus. “Does the injection… knock you out, by chance?”
Nick looked at me oddly for a moment. Then he raised his eyebrows and started laughing incredulously. “You mean they actually injected you, and you escaped?” He let out a low whistle. “The only refugees who’ve managed to make it to us are the ones who stayed one step ahead of the agents, or who got out before they were detected as traitors. I think you must be the first one ever to actually get picked up and get away anyway. How’d you do it, if I may ask?”
“Faked my death,” I said. Also—was I infected, then? I didn’t feel sick… Before Nick could ask me more details, I added, “So everybody’s brainwashed… to what end, though? What kind of system is this really?”
“It’s basically socialism… with a bit of a twist,” said Nick, sawing off a strip of flesh. “There are no private businesses—all of them are government-run. Everyone’s essentially a government employee. Higher education exists only for those who score high enough on placement exams; everyone else is funneled into trades or physical labor. And because there’s no market to determine value of a skill, everyone ‘gets’ the same hourly wage—” he made air quotes around the word gets with one hand—“but all of it goes into government coffers, of course. Then the government doles out to everyone a standard ration of food, health care, housing, and etcetera.”
“But it’s just barely enough to keep them alive,” I murmured.
Nick nodded, his face dark. “Exactly. Most people are horribly malnourished by the time we get them. But when they’re still in the system, that provides the government yet another opportunity to play the hero: they create all these widespread health problems, and then they show up and ‘fix’ them—with a treatment that costs them a couple bucks, like replacing a nutrient or two. People get better, and they’re that much more convinced that the Potentate is their loving parent.” He shook his head. “Not with everyone, though. People die of starvation all the time in there.”
I sat back from my work, unnerved, and murmured, “What really killed my mom, then?”
“Sorry?” said Nick.
“Nothing. Just… talking to myself.” I’d thought my stepfather had finally beaten her to death. But maybe she’d died of starvation—all the while thinking she was rich.
Nick wrapped up the last of the deer meat, wiped his hands on a piece of vellum he’d apparently brought for that purpose, and tucked it into his pack. There was far too much meat to fit, though, so he handed me a parcel to carry as well.
“Come on. I’ll introduce you to the rest of the refugees.” He hoisted the pack on his back and grinned at me as he added, “Thanks for dinner, by the way.”
13
Kate
I awoke on a soft bed of heather. I still shivered, but I no longer wore the muddy ripped dress, and I nestled under scratchy blankets that felt like they were made of wool. Before I even opened my eyes all the way, I felt my forehead: it was slick with sweat.
“Shh, shh, oh, oh, there you go,” clucked a matronly voice, and I felt a cool washcloth pressing against my fiery brow.
I shifted my elbows behind me and tried to sit up, but the movement brought a pounding wave of pain to my head and I thought better of it, settling back into my former position.
I took a quick inventory of my body. I had a fever, apparently. My mouth and lips still felt parched, but slightly less so than before. Every muscle in my body ached.
My eyelids felt puffy and heavy, but I opened them, squinting at the bright sunlight streaming through the mouth of a cave. Cave? There had been no caves anywhere in the landscape I last remembered. A biting chill made me shiver and pull the blanket tighter.
The woman sponging my brow looked like she was in her mid-forties. Her face wore a hard, weather-bitten appearance, but her eyes were brown and soft, and her brown hair was streaked with gray and fastened at the nape of her neck. Her dirty brown dress looked homespun. She smiled at me, her thin lips cracked.
“You probably want more of this,” said the woman, handing me a glass filled to the brim with cool water. “You nearly died of dehydration and exposure.”
I was briefly surprised that she was so well-spoken, considering how filthy she looked—but I didn’t think of this long, distracted by the mug she offered me. My lips parted at the sight of it and I almost panted with desire. That first drink was sweet beyond description.
“Careful,” clucked the woman, pulling the mug away from me as I gulped greedily. “You don’t want to get too much too fast.” I whimpered as she set the mug beyond my reach, but she promised, “I’ll give you more in a minute.”
For the first time I noticed that there were others in the cave behind her, but I couldn’t immediately make my eyes focus on them. I tried to speak but a croak came out instead. I coughed and tried again.
“Where am I?”
A man with a big black beard stepped forward this time, wearing overalls with holes in them. His face was nearly as dirty and weathered as hers. “You’re in the last settlement of the true citizens of the United States.” I blinked at him, confused. Then he clarified, “We’re all refugees here. Just like you.” He paused and then added sharply, “You were running from the government, weren’t you?”
“Yes,” I croaked. “But I just—”
Then I caught a glimpse of the third man in the room and stopped speaking. He m
ust have seen me looking, because he stepped into the light, as if to oblige me.
“This is one of the hunters who found you,” said the matronly woman. “He saved your life.”
“Hello Kate Brandeis,” he said. He wasn’t smiling.
I gasped. “Alec!”
* * *
I stared at Alec, trying to see in the grown-up face the boy I once knew. I remembered Alec as a skinny, arrogant fourteen-year-old. The first night I’d ever seen him came flooding back to me, when he’d crawled into our dorm room—mine and Maggie’s—through the vents. Hadn’t I hallucinated about that in the forest? That was the night when he’d told me all about the collapse of the United States, and how he’d evaded detection longer than most rebel kids only because his parents had been rebels too. But at last, he’d told me, the government had his father and mother murdered for treason, and he and his sister were sent to two different reform schools.
It hadn’t worked though—not on him. Long after I saw McCormick as beautiful and the government as good, Maggie and Alec still met in secret, discussing their plans in whispers. I never knew what they were talking about and never wanted to know. By then I thought they were both crazy.
Now the grown-up version of Alec stood before me, still tall and lanky, his red hair full of dust like the creases of his skin. The wide-set brown eyes appraised me, too. Glared at me, really.
“Never thought I’d see you here,” he said, his tone low and harsh. “Of all people.”
I wanted to ask him what that meant, but I didn’t have the strength.
“Suppose she’s a spy?” said the man in overalls.
“Oh, Uruguay, shh!” snapped the woman.
“She’s probably here to cover the story!” Uruguay continued, “The refuge of the traitors! You know what the Crone’ll say we should do with her…”
Alec looked at me, his face unchanged except for pursed lips. When he spoke, his voice was cold. “Well? Are you?”
Magic and Shadows: A Collection of YA Fantasy and Paranormal Romances Page 75
