I stretched out on it and wondered how they made their mattresses. The ones at the Cement Giant had been a thin layer of feathers, but this one felt like I was lying on a cloud.
It was dark when I awoke. I’d only meant to lie down for a minute, but that intention went to the same place as only having a couple of bites of food.
My drowsy brain thought I was still back in my cell until I smelled the smoke and looked up to see a small girl of maybe five or six hovering over me. She had riotous red hair just like mine sticking out every which way, and was holding a bundle of what looked like weeds that were smoking. She smiled widely at me.
I drew a big fat blank on the memories, and I was grateful. Kid memories were the worst, just unfiltered pain with a nice serving of shock because most of them didn’t see it coming. Nothing had scarred her too badly…yet.
“I’m Tiffy,” she said.
“Hi, Tiffy.” I looked at the smoking weeds as she moved her bundle back and forth a couple times as if she couldn’t decide what was the best spot for them, over my chest or closer to my head with a couple gratuitous ashes for flavor. My brain searched for some explanation that made this normal but came up with nothing. “What are you doing?” I asked.
“Checking your magic.” She was very intent on her job.
“What do you mean?”
“Look,” Tiffy said, pointing to the smoke.
“At what?” I asked, not getting the point of this.
She dragged a finger through the stream. “It’s bluish.”
“It looks normal to me.”
“No, no. You’re mistaken. Look closely. I know you can do this.” She patted my hand with her free one in an encouraging way.
“Okay,” I said, wanting to placate her because she believed it so firmly.
She waved her hand over me again. “See? The sage’s smoke is blue.”
I looked closely, my eyes focusing. Still looked gray to me. If I was splitting hairs, maybe a bluish hue, but that could’ve just been the dark lighting in the room.
She moved the bundle away from me. “See? Now it’s gray.” She moved the bundle back again. “And now it’s blue again.”
If it changed, the difference was so slight it might have been a placebo effect of her suggestion.
She must have realized I’d had my doubts, because she said, “It takes a while to get the hang of it. I’ve got more experience but you’ll learn.”
“Do you do this to everyone?” I asked, letting her finish out her experiment.
“No. My friends asked me to do it for you.”
“What friends?” This didn’t strike me as a Dax or Fudge thing, unless I’d made a serious miscalculation.
“I can’t talk about them.”
The door that was left ajar opened and Fudge appeared. “Tiffy, what are you doing in here? You shouldn’t have bothered Dahlia. She needs to rest.”
I sat up on the bed now that the burning bundle wasn’t hovering over me. “No. It’s okay. I should be getting up anyway. What time is it?”
“It’s the middle of the night and you’ve been traveling for days. You need more sleep. Tiffy, go back to my room.”
Tiffy leaned in close. “I’ll let you know what they say,” she whispered, and then skipped off after a last smile in my direction, only stopping as Fudge took her bundle of sage on the way out.
The soft feel of the room suddenly made sense. “Am I in her room?”
“Yes, but don’t fuss about it. She never sleeps in here anyway. She hates to sleep alone.” After she heard the door shut down the hall she continued. “Lost her family to the Bloody Death when she was a baby.”
Her brain must have been too young to form the memories, and I was glad for it.
I stood up, thinking of what they’d said at the compound, how even too much sleep might bring back the Bloody Death.
“What are you doing?” Fudge asked as I moved about the room.
“I’m not tired anymore.”
“That’s nonsense. You’ve slept for only a few hours and you’ve been traveling for days on almost no sleep. Get back in bed.”
Fudge was standing there pointing at the bed. Even as scrawny as I was, I knew I could take her down, and yet I found myself getting back into bed like she had some old woman magic.
Fudge left the room while I pondered who Tiffy’s “they” might be.
Chapter 12
I walked down the stairs to the sound of bustling activity early the next morning. At the compound everyone would be up by six, and it didn’t seem to be much different here. There were lots of people here, and I couldn’t help myself from wondering if they all knew I was a Plaguer.
People were coming in and out of the dining area, where it looked like a buffet had been set up on that large table I’d admired yesterday. The heaping pile of food on display smelled like it would be as good as it looked. I caught a couple of glances as I paused at the bottom of the stairs but no one said anything to me.
Fudge walked out of the kitchen and spotted me instantly, like she had some sort of radar that told her my whereabouts. “I put breakfast out at six thirty sharp every day,” Fudge said. “You miss it and you fend for yourself.”
“Sounds good to me.” I didn't need any more prodding. I waited for a break in the line to slip in and grabbed a plate from the stack. I’d never been able to choose what I ate before and I wasn’t sure what to go for first. I reached over and grabbed eggs. Those I recognized from the compound, but I didn’t know what anything else was. Eating the sandwich hadn’t struck me down dead, so I threw caution out the window and started piling up some of everything. There were spongy yellow-looking foods and little grayish tubes, flat strips of striped food and round slices of pink.
A few people looked at my plate as it was growing vertically and then looked at me, pants bagging at the hips and skinny arms poking out of the sleeves.
“What? You’ve never seen someone eat before?” I said after the third look from some portly guy in overalls.
There were forks and knives piled in a cup at the end of the spread. Grabbing a pair, I took my plate and went outside to a bench on the back porch and started to chow down. Even the eggs here tasted better than what I’d eaten at the compound. Plus I could eat as much as I wanted.
By time I was done, I realized that not eating wasn’t the only way to knock someone out. I felt like a beached whale. I wasn’t quite sure what that was, except I’d read it in a Moobie book where it was used to describe something bloated that didn’t want to move. Sounded about right.
I didn’t give the food too much time to sit, though. I had to go find Dax and see if it was time to “work.” If not, I had my own agenda to get started on. Being here in this place made me think nonstop about my friends being where they were.
I went back into the house and poked around and then stopped by Fudge. “Do you know where Dax is?” I asked.
“He won’t be back until later on today.”
“Is there anything you need me to do?” I asked, hoping she’d say no.
She shook her head. “I think everything’s pretty well in hand at the moment.”
I looked around the kitchen until I located what I was hoping for—a couple of sharp knives sitting on one of the counters. “Could I borrow one of these? I’ve always wanted to try whittling and since there’s nothing else I’m needed for…”
She shrugged. “Okay, just make sure to bring it back.”
“Will do.”
I took the knife and left the kitchen. I tried to keep it angled out of view as I walked out of the house and toward the gate to the property. It was the only way out, since the rest of the area was fenced in or surrounded by rocky cliffs.
There was a different man than yesterday guarding the entrance, an intimidating machine gun in his hands. I’d seen them on occasion at the compound. That was what I really needed, but since it was a long shot, the knife would have to suffice for now.
“State your busin
ess,” he said as I came closer.
“Is that necessary? The business stating stuff?”
I took a couple of steps closer and he backed up a bit, his eyes shooting to my right hand with the brand, not my left that was holding the knife. I was wearing the gloves but he obviously knew what lay beneath, which meant everyone here probably knew.
“For you it is,” he sneered.
What an idiot. Did he really think he was going to make me feel bad? I’d been shunned since I was four. Did he think the fact that he didn’t give me a warm hug on greeting was going to make a difference to me?
I rested my weight on one foot as I scratched my chin. “Do you know what Plaguers can do?”
He made a show of spinning his gun. “See shit about people? Bunch of hogwash, you ask me.”
It was almost unfair how outmatched he was, and he was going to make this almost enjoyable for me. “I wonder if your sister would agree with that.”
The color in his cheeks drained completely and then came back with a vengeance a few seconds later. “Don’t be saying shit about my sister.”
I wondered if the joy of getting the upper hand on jackasses would ever fail to bring me such happiness. “I didn’t plan on talking to anyone this morning. Just looking to take a walk in the forest. Of course, plans can change and I could get stuck with nothing else to do.”
He yanked back the latch that held the gate closed and flung it open. “Go. I hope you don’t come back. I hope the beasts eat you.”
I smiled brightly as I passed him. “Thanks so much. Hope you have a great afternoon, too.” What a lightweight. He wouldn’t have lasted a week in the Giant. I was starting to think these people of the Wilds wholly overestimated themselves. They broke awfully easy.
The trees swallowed me up and I breathed deep of the forest air and listened to the birds chirping and hoped I’d never get so jaded that I would take this paradise for granted. I moved farther into the woods and I didn’t stop until the main house and gate were out of sight. The forest felt old here, like it had been growing way before a plague wiped through the world.
I was getting pretty deep into it but I wasn’t worried about the mystery beasts so many feared. Want to talk made-up bullshit? The beasts sounded like tall tales to me. Even as I thought of the animals in Fudge’s memory, they might have been a pack of wolves. That was the thing about other people’s memories. They weren’t exactly objective.
I spotted a dead tree with a trunk that still stood eight or nine feet high. It was time to practice. When I got back to the Giant, I’d need to be able to handle myself. That was part one of my plan, become a honed killer. Part two? Gather enough explosives to blow the place to bits. As daunting as training myself to be a killer seemed, I knew the massive amount of explosives I was going to need would be the worst of it.
I’d take it one step at a time, starting here. I held the knife in my hand, imagining I was traipsing through an enemy’s country on assignment and the dead tree was an assassin come to finish me off.
I turned sideways, making myself a smaller target, and tried to balance the knife on my finger. I’d never checked a knife out before. I wasn’t sure what the point of trying to balance it on a finger was, but Moobie would’ve done it. That was about all I had to work with right now. If Moobie did it, I did it.
I looked up, preparing to take aim at the tree.
“You, sir, have taken on the wrong person. It is time to meet your death,” I said in a fake aristocratic accent toward the center of the tree, as if I could see the villain’s face.
“What are you doing out here?” Dax asked from behind me.
How did I not hear him coming up on me? My spine stiffened, preparing to weather the storm of humiliation. “Just goofing around,” I replied, not looking at him.
“Oh, because I thought you were preparing to mete out death to that already dead tree.” He wasn’t laughing, but I could hear he was barely holding it back.
He stepped around to the side. “Please, I don’t want to stop you from finishing off this tree,” he said, acting quite serious.
“Thank you.” I tilted my chin up and held my tattered dignity together as best I could.
I was hoping he was going to leave, but instead he leaned against a nearby tree and looked like he was settling in to watch the show. There was nothing to do but take my best shot. Really, how much more embarrassing could it get?
I gripped the knife lightly, just as Moobie would’ve done, and flung it at the tree. The handle end bounced off the bark about a foot off the ground.
Nope. I was wrong. It could get more embarrassing.
Dax straightened, walked over, grabbed the knife and then moved back about ten feet farther away from the tree.
“Come here,” he said.
I walked over to him, figuring he wanted me out of the line of fire as he threw the knife himself. I mean seriously? Did he have to gloat over being better?
I stopped a few feet to his side and he handed the knife to me. “Try it from here.”
“I couldn’t do it from up there.” I knew there had to be something wrong with him. He was hot but he was brain dead.
“Try it anyway.” His tone alone said he was prepared to make an issue of it.
“Fine.” I took the knife and this time I didn’t even manage to hit the bark.
“Go get the knife and try from back there,” he said, pointing another two feet away.
“I’m not doing this. It’s ridiculous.” I’d come back out by myself again and practice alone. It wasn’t like he was giving me pointers. I was failing and he kept making the target harder.
“Do it.”
“I don’t want to play this game anymore.” I crossed my arms over my chest. Why was he being such a dick? I couldn’t do it.
“Do it anyway.”
Why was he digging in about this? He stared at me and I didn’t flinch but my wheels were spinning. This place was perfect. I didn’t have to worry about somewhere to eat or sleep while I could devote most of my energies to putting together my plans.
If that meant throwing the knife at the tree, I was going to have to do it. I broke eye contact first and went to get the knife, swallowing my pride like I’d hoped I’d never have to do after I got out of the Giant.
I took my position, not really thinking about my stance or anything else at that moment. I reached over my head and let the knife fly, expecting to not even come close to the tree this time.
I was stunned. I’d nailed the tree dead center. How the hell had that happened?
I looked over at Dax. He was quiet and not surprised like I was. It took all my control to not hop and dance around.
“Dax, did you see?” I asked, even though he was looking right at it.
“You got the plague when you were four, and you’re eighteen,” he said, musing to himself with none of the enthusiasm I was feeling.
“What does that have to do with anything?”
He looked to me now. “You ever wonder why they nearly starved you in that place? Gave you just enough to let you survive at the lowest level of existence?”
I stiffened but didn’t turn away. He sure knew how to take the fun out of a moment, and how did he know so much? “I survived just fine,” I said, not having to fight the urge to jump around now. My happy dance was completely deflated.
“I’m stating facts. You can’t be emotional.”
“I’m not,” I said, knowing I sounded defensive but couldn't help it.
“Yes, you are. If you want to survive, you need to be an independent variable. You are the cause, not the effect.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about teaching you to survive. You can’t feel so much.”
“I wanted out so that I could live, not die.”
“If you want to live, part of you has to die.”
I kept my mouth shut, not saying a word, but he was wrong. I hadn’t gotten out of that place to become a machine. He c
ould think whatever he wanted. He wasn’t changing me.
He walked over to the tree and yanked out the knife before returning to me.
He put the knife in my hand. “Don’t do this in front of anyone.”
“Why not?” I asked, doubting I could do it again anyway.
“Because it makes you look more different than you already do.”
“You already told them I was a Plaguer.” I knew how to spot the looks, even if the gate guy hadn’t said anything.
“The glove trick wasn’t going to work here on a daily basis. I needed to stay in front of the subject.” He started walking out of the clearing. “Come on. You shouldn’t stay out here alone.”
“Why?”
“Because of the beasts. We haven’t seen one around for a while but that doesn’t mean it’s safe. Plus, you might want to get cleaned up a bit before everyone shows.”
“What’s wrong with me?” I asked. I’d showered yesterday. I wasn’t that dirty.
“Don’t you want to, like, I mean…” He waved a hand in the direction of my head.
“What?”
“I don’t know, do what girls do? Maybe brush your hair or something?”
My hand went to the nappy mess of red. I’d never wanted to attract positive attention, not that I was sure I even could, but him pointing to my hair had me trying to smooth it down. “I don’t see the point,” I said, contradicting my actions as I followed him back to the house.
“Suit yourself, but when we go to work, it would help if you could look a little more low key. Your coloring, the bright eyes, you don’t blend well. Having that”—he gestured at my hair again—“sticking out all crazy doesn’t help matters.”
“Ow.” I slapped a hand to the back of my head.
“What?”
“What kind of weird bugs you guys have out in these parts? I think one of them just ripped a hair from my head.”
“That might be an improvement,” he said as he walked toward the house.
He didn’t get to see the face I made at his back.
Chapter 13
The Wilds: #1 The Wilds Page 10
