by Joe Hart
Sherell nods. “I used to lie awake at night imagining what it would be like to see my parents again after induction. How they would look, what I would say, how it would feel to hug them and have them hug me. But as I got older it started to fade and I made up stories about where I came from and the life we would’ve had if the Dearth had never happened. Now I have something real, something I can hold on to because of you.”
Rita smiles. “I did the same thing—imagined a past without the ARC and NOA. I think I knew deep down it was only my mother and me. I never remembered my father, so he must’ve . . .” She clears her throat. “I’m just sorry that you didn’t get the same.”
“It’s okay,” Zoey says, voice hoarse.
“It’s not fair.”
“The world isn’t built to be fair. I’ve learned that much already.”
“Look, no one blames you for what happened the other day.”
“There’s no one else to blame. I pulled the trigger.”
“And you saved me. I’d be dead or worse right now if it weren’t for you.”
She tries to say something but the warring emotions inside her null the words.
The silence is broken only by the gusting wind that carries specks of sand across the plateau and creaks the Suburban on its springs. After a beat she feels something brush her fingers and looks down to see Sherell’s hand holding her own. A moment later Rita grips her opposite hand so they stand in a half circle around the grave.
“Halie was beautiful and kind and she didn’t deserve to die so young,” Sherell says. “No one deserves to go through what she did. I don’t know what’s after this life, but I hope Halie is somewhere peaceful and free, and that she’s finally found her family after all.”
Zoey feels the void waver, flex as if it will break and everything inside her will come spilling out. But then Ken’s face appears in her mind and she knows if he were here right now, she would only do one thing differently.
She would kill him slower.
She squeezes her friends’ hands and finally releases them to keep the other women from feeling the tremor that runs through her.
“We should get back,” she says, walking toward the vehicle. They follow and after one last look at the resting place, she wheels them around and heads down the side of the embankment.
The ride back is quiet and uneventful. Sherell and Rita make light conversation and Zoey knows they’re trying to engage her, draw her out, return her to the group. But she is lost in her own thoughts, the words Sherell said over Halie’s grave repeating themselves in an endless echo.
No one deserves to go through what she did.
No one deserves to go through.
No one deserves.
No one.
No one.
No one else.
The lunchroom is stuffy, the space narrower than before, or maybe it’s the others’ eyes on her that’s creating the feeling of being trapped. Seamus lies at her feet, nudging her leg from time to time with his nose, but she doesn’t reach down to pet him. She picks at the meal Eli made for everyone, eyes unfocused, not truly seeing anything until Merrill’s voice brings her back to the present.
“We need to talk about what’s next,” he says, looking at them individually, gaze lingering longest on Zoey. “First off we need to decide what to do with Lyle. He’s been compliant and helpful, and what he says makes sense about being held against his will. I’m sure he’d like to come with us when we leave, but we need to vote on it. All in favor of giving him the option, raise your hands.”
Every hand in the room goes up, Zoey lifting hers last. “Okay. That’s decided then. Secondly, Ian and I have gathered as many useful supplies as we can haul. There’s a large fuel depot at the rear of the property, enough gas to fill all our cans and then some. In about three weeks the passes we came through are going to be in pretty rough shape. In six they’ll be impassable if we get a decent amount of snow. We’ll make it no problem, but there’s always a chance of an early storm sliding in over the mountains so I think it’s a good—”
“I’m not going back,” Zoey says.
Merrill’s voice dies and every head turns toward her.
“What did you say?” Tia asks.
“I’m not going back.”
Merrill squints at her and leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “What are you talking about, Zoey?”
“The Fae Trade. I’m going after it.”
There’s a shocked silence that breaks as almost everyone starts talking to her at once. She glances at each of them, sees the looks in their eyes.
Pity, concern, confusion, love.
Ian’s voice carries to her across the room. “I know you’re upset, but it would be suicide.”
“It’s not about me,” she says, and the group quiets. “I know you think that. Maybe you think I’m going there because it’s the best chance of finding something about my parents since there was nothing for me here. But it’s not. I’m going because of Halie. Because of Grace, and Annie, and Natalie, and all the others that were inducted before us. Growing up, we never knew what happened to the women who disappeared. Now we do. And it’s worse than dying. The spy from NOA said they’re still searching, still trying to find girls. If they find one, she’ll be raised to the right age and then sold to the trade if she can’t produce a female. I won’t let that happen.”
“But the director of NOA is dead. They’re leaderless,” Tia says.
“That won’t stop them.” She pauses, smiling painfully. “That didn’t stop them. They’re still doing what they’ve always done. Someone else is in charge, maybe Reaper since his body wasn’t in the helicopter that crashed. Us escaping only slowed them down. They’ll never quit. And the Fae Trade is just one more gear in the machine.”
“Zoey, it won’t bring her back,” Merrill says softly. “It won’t bring any of them back.”
“I know that!” she yells, jumping to her feet without meaning to. She pounds a fist on the table and several glasses tip over, spilling water. She breathes hard, as if she’s been fighting, and realizes she has. “But I won’t go and hide away while something like the trade exists. There’s a good chance they have women right now, locked up and waiting to be fought over and purchased and brought back to a place like this.” She gestures at the walls. “If I can stop it, I have to try. I’m not asking anyone to go with me. In fact I don’t want you to.” She feels the tension slacken in her shoulders and she’s suddenly very tired. “Sherell, you said nobody deserves to go through what Halie did. I’m going to make sure no one else does.”
She turns from the group and moves through the open doorway, not knowing where her feet are taking her until she’s on the lower level, standing in the feeble light beside the missile.
She traces its outline in the near dark. Smooth, solid contours. Seamless construction. And above it all the sense of waiting, of restraint and concealed power. When the sound of footsteps comes from behind her much later, she’s already made the decision.
Ian stops beside her and gazes down into the darkness of the silo. “I suspected I’d find you here.” She says nothing. “I know you think that we hate you for what you did. It was terrible, but necessary. Rita is safe.” She waits, reeling in the anger that’s building exponentially. “No one hates you. There’s nothing you have to prove to us.”
“I’m not going to the trade to cleanse my conscience.”
“I know that.” He sighs. “Some of the most charismatic people in history were leaders. They knew how to speak to people, how to ignite passion and reverence in a crowd with only words. But many of them weren’t good leaders. They used their talents for the pursuit of power and vengeance, and when they fell, they fell far.”
She looks at him. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because whether you know it or not, or even want it, the group is looking to you now to lead them.”
“What? Merrill’s in charge, he’s always been in charge.”
“I’m sure he told you before that he never meant to be, but he’s done the best he can. He’s made mistakes and decisions that he’s regretted.”
“Like trusting me?”
Ian shakes his head and reaches out to her. She lets his hand hang there between them for a long moment before grasping it. “Absolutely not. You are part of us now, part of our family. We love you, Zoey. When I knew my children were gone, truly gone forever, I nearly lost it. I wanted to end it all the first night Helen and I found out. But we continued on because we had one another, and sometimes that is enough. The day you awoke I saw something in you. I saw hope and determination and strength unlike anything I’d ever encountered before. You gave all of us purpose again.” Ian’s eyes shine wetly. “And even though I miss my wife and my children every day and will until my heart stops beating, I have something to live for. We all do. That’s why we’re coming with you.”
Her chest tries to hitch and she stops it. “You can’t. I won’t let you.”
He smiles and squeezes her hand. “See, that’s the thing about this group, they’re stubborn bastards, every last one of them, myself included. Once you put an idea in our heads, we won’t let it go.”
Unable to resist the urge that comes over her, Zoey laughs. She steps forward and hugs him fiercely. “Thank you.”
“There’s nothing to thank us for,” he says, stroking her hair.
“I’m sorry. For everything.”
“I know. It’s okay. But promise me you won’t lose control like that again. You can’t. You’ll get yourself or someone else killed. Promise me.”
The smothering darkness within her pulses with a life of its own. “I promise.”
He holds her for another beat before letting her go. “We’ve got another problem on our hands.”
“What’s that?”
“Actually finding the Fae Trade. It travels all over the country. There’s no way of knowing where it is, and none of us have actually seen it.”
She glances toward the main tunnel. “No. But there’s someone here who has.”
19
Lyle looks up from the computer screen when Zoey enters the room.
His eyes are bloodshot from lack of sleep and there are dark circles beneath them, but the vitality she noticed before, while pulling up Rita’s and Sherell’s information, hasn’t diminished.
“Hello,” he says as she shuts the door to the tunnel.
“Hi.”
“What can I do for you, Zoey?”
“You told us that the Fae Trade came through your community and took the women. Killed anyone who fought back, right?”
“That’s right.”
“Where was this?”
Lyle licks his lips. “It was near a little town called Brigeton in northern Nevada.”
“And you saw the trade itself?”
“In the distance, yes. We didn’t know what it was until it was too late.”
“What did it look like?”
“Like an enormous carnival. You’re probably too young to know what that is.”
“I’ve read about them.” She walks to the file cabinet she overturned the day they’d arrived and runs her fingers along the drawer’s handle. “Ken said that it travels all over the country.”
“That’s right.”
“Do they go to the same places or do they take a new route every time?”
“I’m not sure exactly.”
“How long ago did you see it?”
“I can’t say for sure. It was years ago. But like I told you, I’ve lost track of time.”
“Did they already have Halie when they brought you here?” It takes a second for her to recognize the confusion on his face. “Halie was the woman’s name.”
“Oh. Yes, yes she was already here.”
Zoey walks back to the door and leans against it. “Do you know which direction the trade was headed?”
Lyle squints, eyes narrowing to slits behind his glasses. “They came from the southeast, so I would wager they were moving northwest toward Seattle.”
“Did the men ever leave the installation to go to it again since you’ve been here?”
“No. They’d go on scavenging missions, but they were never gone more than a couple days. I think they liked the comforts of this place.” Lyle stares at her for a long moment. “Is it true? Are they all dead?”
“Yes,” she hears herself say.
“You killed them.”
“Yes.”
“Are you going to kill me?”
“No.” She surveys him for a moment. “But there is one thing I need your help with.”
Twenty minutes later she leaves Lyle sitting in the same place she found him. When she explained what she wanted, he’d gone pale.
I wouldn’t know where to begin.
You’ll have time.
But even then, I’m just a computer tech who’s had zero practice in the last twenty years.
If you can gain access, could you do it?
In theory, yes.
Then that’s all I’m asking.
Zoey climbs the last few stairs to the main floor and finds Merrill talking to the rest of the group. He falls silent when she appears.
She gazes at all of them, a spike of warmth shooting through her chest each time she meets someone’s eyes and they are steady and unflinching. “Thank you,” she says. “I don’t know what else to say.”
“Then shut up with this mushy shit and tell us what the plan is,” Tia says. A rumble of laughter runs through the group and Zoey smiles.
“From what Lyle told me, I’m guessing the trade follows the same path each year and ends in Seattle. Which seems logical since they’d continue to hit the largest communities.”
“How do we know where they’re at now?” Eli asks.
“We don’t. But Ken said it comes through once a year, and Lyle’s been here close to a year. I asked him if Ken and his men had ever left to go to it since they’d captured him, and he said no. So if the trade follows the same route and it hasn’t been close by in nearly a year . . .”
“Then it’s a good chance they’re going to be near here soon,” Ian finishes. “It’s a brilliant deduction, my girl, but how do you intend on pinpointing their location?”
“Our only option is asking people who we come across on the road. I’m sure it’s a common question, and it won’t raise any suspicion if one of the men inquire about it.”
“That’s all fine and dandy but the country you’re talking about traveling through is rough, honey,” Tia says. “And I’m not just talking about the landscape. There’s going to be highwaymen, rapists, murderers, and that’s before we ever get to the damn trade.”
“I know,” she says, walking down the hallway. She hears the shuffle of feet following her as she nears the garage door and opens it. With a flick of her fingers the lights come on. “That’s why we’re taking that.”
20
They spend the next day and a half equipping the armored vehicle with weapons, ammo, food, and water.
The inside has been stripped, leaving empty bolt holes everywhere in the walls and floor. Only two padded benches remain behind the driver and passenger seats in the front. The interior smells of oiled steel and grease.
Zoey turns in a slow circle between the benches, back bent slightly to keep her head from hitting the roof. A steel box is mounted in the upper-right corner of the space, and when she unhooks it from the wall and peers inside she finds a large flare gun, flares, and a first aid kit that’s been looted of everything but two rolls of gauze.
“Not sure we’re all going to fit in here,” Rita says, climbing up into the vehicle. Sherell appears behind her, and both women set down an armload of ammunition.
Zoey reattaches the steel box to the wall. “We’ll make do,” she says, sitting beside Sherell.
“Yeah, we’re good at that,” Rita says.
They are quiet for a time, the sounds of the group moving something heavy at the far end of t
he garage muffled by the thick walls of the vehicle.
“I didn’t mean to put this idea in your head,” Sherell says, gesturing to the supplies accumulating in one corner. “By saying what I did at Halie’s grave.”
“You didn’t. I was thinking about it way before that,” Zoey says.
“You’re not responsible, you know. For everyone else.”
“I know.”
“We could go back to the mountains, keep working on Ian’s house. Forget about everything. We’re safe there.”
“We could. But it’s like you said about knowing where you came from, the bruise that won’t heal. I’d always wonder if there was someone like us in a cage somewhere.”
Sherell nods and smiles sadly. “I always knew you were different. Better than us. Even back in the ARC. Maybe that’s why I picked on you.”
“I’m not better than you. I’m not better than anyone.”
“Yes you are,” Rita says. “And saying that you’re not proves it.”
“I’m doing what I need to. I’m sorry everyone’s getting dragged along.”
“No one’s dragging us. We volunteered, remember.”
Silence falls again except for the soft tread of feet near the open door and a moment later Newton appears carrying a large plastic water jug. He glances to each of them before Sherell moves to take the container from his hand. She smiles at him and Newton blushes, dropping his eyes and hurrying away across the garage.
“You can’t help yourself, can you?” Rita says as Sherell places the water with the other supplies.
Sherell shrugs, smiling again. “Why should I?”
“You’ve been spending quite a bit of time with him.”
“I think he’s interesting. He says things with his eyes if you’re watching.”
“Um-hmm.”
“And it doesn’t hurt that he’s gorgeous to look at, either.” Rita and Sherell laugh and Zoey smiles. “Never know. Someday maybe we’ll have a little place of our own in the mountains. Maybe even a baby. Do either of you ever think about that kind of thing?”
