Twig

by wildbow

  I spread my hands for Mabel.

  She nodded. I watched her watch the Lambs, and I wondered what was going through her head.

  Was she, in her own perception, intruder or intruded-on? Bystander, outsider, or someone at home? I didn’t have enough experience with her to say one way or another.

  Heads turned away as Ashton was cut into.

  Ashton’s eyes settled on mine.

  “You’re aware I could make this entire building implode on you?”

  “Yeah, Ashton. I’m aware.”

  “Good,” he said.

  Which was all. The little man was changing. He’d set his sights on something, said something about drives and goals, and he’d said other things I would have to ask Jessie for in order to get reminders, but he was changing, and that was a very good, positive thing.

  ☙

  Lillian and Jessie hugged. Then Jessie and Mary hugged while I faced Lillian down.

  I was rescued by Helen, who threw her arms around my shoulders and Lillian’s, hugging us both, while advertently putting us in closer proximity to one another. My forehead knocked lightly against Lillian’s, and then came to rest against it.

  “No spider funnel, please. I don’t need to see that,” Lillian said.

  “Noted. Centipedes and a good stuffing stick.”

  “Better.”

  I had to pinch Helen to make her let go of us, which was a bit of a shame. When I raised my head, forehead no longer pressing against Lillian’s with the strength of Helen’s grip, I let my lips graze Lillian’s forehead.

  Mary hugged me, which was weird. I didn’t take any of her weapons and she didn’t hold anything sharp or pointy to my throat.

  Ashton settled for a backwards handshake, using his non-dominant hand. Duncan took an ordinary, almost-adult handshake instead.

  “Don’t die, don’t let Fray make decisions for you.”

  “Yeah,” I said.

  Jessie spoke, “Take care of that professor. He was hard to retrieve. We all suffered for it. Sy more than most.”

  I thought of the torture, of the bug latched onto my back. The day felt a little less bright than it had.

  “We’ll see him out safely,” Mary said. “You’ll look after our Helen?”

  ‘Our’ Helen.

  “Absolutely,” I said. I looked at Helen. “Yes?”

  “I’ll be fine,” Helen said.

  “Perfect,” Mary said.

  There was an antsy caravan behind us, ex-students looking to get moving on what was liable to be a full day of travel. They had little stake in what happened here. The Lambs wanted to go for much the same reason. The overall anxiety was compounded by the presence of the ‘enemy’, so to speak.

  We had every reason to go, to get moving.

  I looked at these Lambs, at a damaged Ashton and a stern Mary, at Lillian who I would have dearly loved to sit by a campfire with, and at Duncan, who… wasn’t disappointing me anymore, and who was impressing me now and then.

  Unless that was a trick of memory.

  Every reason to go… and without coming up with an excuse or voicing it, both sides were reluctant to be the first to turn away and put distance between us.

  One way or another, if only half of the Lambs make it, we reunite. We band together. We find a way through, I thought. We don’t end this separated.

  Previous Next

  Gut Feeling—17.7

  The departure of the Lambs was our cue to start packing up and getting ready to go.

  We had three hundred students, fifty other individuals we’d picked up along the way, and thirty gang members that included the new and the old; adults that were willing to take orders. Of all the gang leaders we’d started with, only Archie remained.

  We couldn’t stay, and so we were left with the unenviable task of getting four hundred people ready to leave. Most of them had been up for half the night as active agents in attacking the quarantine site and then distracting Academy forces, leading them into traps. The average age was roughly seventeen, and being ex-students, they were a spoiled sort of seventeen that weren’t busy working to help their families put food on the tables.

  Thanks for helping us get out of the quarantine zone, kids! Hope you enjoyed your breakfasts, because we’re going to spend the rest of the day trudging through cold wet backroads.

  If they had been motivated by any degree of excitement or a legitimate fear for their own lives, it still would have been a slow process. If it had been both exciting with mortal fear driving it, maybe things might have moved along a little better.

  “Limited wagons,” Jessie observed. “We can save seven seats, including the driver’s seat. Rudy gets one, of course. Then Doris, Marie, Bernard, Clara, Ann, and Edwin. Doris can drive the wagon for a stretch, but we’ll want to ensure she’s snug and comfortable.”

  “Why her in particular?”

  It was Helen who chimed in, “Because it’s gentlemanly, Sy. Don’t tell me that you’ve become a degenerate in the last year.”

  “It’s because she’s pregnant, Sy. You’ve seen her around.”

  “Oh,” I said.

  “Conception was our fault, arguably. The early days after we left Beattle.”

  “There’s a dozen kinds of ways to avoid that,” I said.

  “I’m fond of not having a uterus,” Helen said. “Very convenient.”

  “It probably is,” Jessie told Helen. To me, she said, “They slipped the net. You threatened Doris’ boyfriend and said you’d stitch his dick to his forehead if he didn’t step up.”

  “Did I?” I asked.

  “Why are you asking me? Do you think I’m going to be wrong about something?” Jessie asked. “Or that I forgot?”

  “No, no, nothing like that. It’s just, dang, I’m really disappointed I didn’t remember the forehead-dick-stitching. I really like that. I’m sort of in awe of my past self.”

  “Again,” Jessie chimed in.

  “He’s a bold and adventurous lad, with uncommon intelligence,” I said. “And with a mischievous streak that may include attaching members to foreheads., without removal of either forehead or member.”

  “It was inspired,” Jessie said. “You were angry.”

  “Did I have cause to try putting the inspiration to practice?” I asked. “I’m sort of wondering at the logistics of the act, now.”

  “He stepped up, you didn’t have cause. You could say he was inspired by the lingering threat,” Jessie said.

  “Well, good for him,” I said. “Also, drat.”

  “For all of his early reluctance, I think he’s more likely to be a proper parent than Doris,” Jessie said. “Not that we’re going to say anything of the sort in earshot of Doris.”

  “I’ll forget you said it before the hour is out,” I said.

  “I’ll be good,” Helen said. “And if you ever want to test those logistics on someone, Sylvester, do let me know. I’ll be happy to help.”

  “How gracious of you, madam. Do remind me if we have any particularly annoying enemies deserving of the fate.”

  Helen offered me a little curtsy, “Of course, sir.”

  “You two are just going to be a right horror show, aren’t you?” Jessie asked.

  “Given a chance,” I said.

  “Just keep me in the loop,” Jessie said.

  “Can do,” I said.

  Students were making their way outside. The ground was wet with snow, and they were reluctant to put their bags down where they would get soaked. There weren’t many surfaces available, either, and the bags were heavy, leaving them in an awkward position. Students were doing their best to take bags and load up the carriages and wagons, but it was quickly becoming apparent that there just wasn’t much space.

  “Are we going to have to reduce the number of bags we’re bringing?” I asked.

  “Probably,” Jessie said. “Since we arrived, we’ve gathered lab equipment, materials, projects, new people, and we’ve lost wagons and carriages as of last ni
ght.”

  I frowned.

  “We’ll manage. Maybe if we get students to share the load, each one carries one bag for a short leg of the journey, passes it on?”

  “Or we could devise a quick hitch. If we tore off a door and fix wheels to it from somewhere, we could add more bags,” I said.

  “More load for the horses,” Jessie said. “You’re not wrong, but let’s not overstate it.”

  “Right.”

  Jessie waved over one student. “Get Charlie Cullough and Alvin Munder. Get tools from under the stairs of the unoccupied dormitory, tear away the sliding door of the enclosed pen. Then get the big treaded wheelbarrow wheels and axle from the rusty wheelbarrow sitting inside the mill. Beside the brick stack. See what you can put together. We need something we can hitch to a carriage and pull behind, to hold bags.”

  “Yeah?” the boy asked. He glanced at us three, with Helen getting the majority of the attention.

  “Make it sturdy,” Jessie said. “We have a long trip ahead of us, and we really don’t want to stop halfway to fix it.

  “Yes ma’am,” the boy said, sounding unconvinced.

  “There’s a pay bonus in it for you three if you get it done fast and it lasts the entire trip,” I said. “Be inventive.”

  “Show us what you’re made of,” Helen said. Her tone was such that I couldn’t help but think that she was actually thinking about constituent, fleshy elements when she talked about what he was made of.

  Still, it did the trick. He hurried off to do the task with zest and pep.

  “That will help,” Jessie said. “I’m just trying to put the mental building blocks together. Quantity of cargo, the amount of space…”

  “We could tell everyone to dig through their bags and throw away five items.”

  “We could,” Jessie said. “Fast way to breed resentment.”

  “You’re not wrong,” I said. “But the Academy catching up to us or us making our rebels carry two stone worth of luggage is going to see us collectively dead and dealt with or it’s going to breed even more resentment.”

  “Yeah,” Jessie said. She looked down at her notebook and began making notes, one eye on incoming refugees and the bags they were carrying. She wrote something down.

  “Why the notes?” I asked.

  “Calculations, and I may have to delegate. There’s a lot to do.”

  “Got it,” I said. “What can I do?”

  “Find Shirley and Pierre?”

  “On it,” I said.

  “And take Helen? Boys are stopping to stare at the new girl and it’s slowing down traffic in a logistically key place.”

  “If it would help, I can drink and redistribute water across my body,” Helen said. “Change my proportions to be less stare-worthy.”

  “No,” I said. “Not if you’re walking long distances.”

  “I can expel it,” she said.

  “Means stopping repeatedly.”

  “I can expel it through the mouth.”

  “Let’s just not,” I said. “Come with. We’ll get out of sight and out of mind, and maybe the hope that they get to gawk at you in the future motivates them to get going.”

  “Alright,” Helen said.

  “Don’t be too long!” Jessie called out. Helen and I were already a little distance away. “We should leave soon.”

  “Got it!” I called back.

  Shirley and Pierre were in the dining hall. The room was one of the largest areas with open space, access from multiple directions and a lot of surfaces to set bags and things on. Some of our people were packing up on tables, others pausing to rest after lugging heavy bags a distance.

  Shirley’s hair had grown in a bit longer, but it remained a pixie cut of black hair. The heavy application of product to her lashes and the makeup surrounding her eyes made her eyes look even larger. In any other circumstance, she might have looked like an attractive cross of the seductress and the innocent, new to adulthood. She was coordinating and giving advice.

  She looked worn out. She hadn’t had much more sleep than I had, to look at her, and her brain wasn’t so adaptable. She was doing an admirable job, and she was doing it after being hit by plague. Bloody bandages wrapped her forearms and hands.

  Pierre hung back, looking bedraggled. I doubted he’d slept nearly enough.

  “Sylvester!” Shirley greeted me.

  Which was sufficient to turn the vast majority of the crowd’s attention my way.

  In moments, I was being bombarded with questions from the mundane to the serious. How many bags could they bring? So-and-so had been given multiple major adjustments and physical changes by some amateur surgeons, there was some concern about risk if they were to exert themselves or travel on the road. Someone wasn’t leaving their room and there was some concern they would stay behind on a more permanent basis.

  I raised a hand to suppress the rising tide of voices, and I talked to Shirley. “Where do we stand?”

  “Snags,” she said. “This was abrupt.”

  “I warned people to be ready to leave at a moment’s notice, to keep a bag packed, whatever else they needed. Hopefully this becomes something they start doing by default.”

  “Most are doing fine. But there are outliers, Sylvester.”

  “How many are you stumped on?”

  “Three or four,” she said.

  I put a hand on her shoulder, leading her away from the crowd. Pierre and Helen followed as we found our way to a place that was less overwhelmed with students and problems. “Who? Which?”

  “Four students are in an ongoing dispute about… everything. They’re fighting over everything.”

  “Everything?” I asked.

  “Room assignments, politics, who gets the credit for what work. They’re entangled, enmeshed, and they aren’t congealing into a working unit.”

  “A minor issue, but I’m not seeing if it really demands attention. We have other priorities.”

  “They’re refusing to budge until someone higher up steps in to decide. Others have taken bets, which means they’re reluctant to get a move on.”

  “And it’s not an easy solve, when it comes to winners and losers and hurt feelings whichever you decide,” Shirley said.

  “Okay,” I said. “Who else?”

  “Student sealed herself in her room. Scared of plague. Doesn’t want to leave today, so soon after the scare yesterday.”

  “You can’t talk her down?”

  “I could, given time and one hundred percent of my focus, but there’s so much to keep track of,” Shirley said. She looked a little bit on edge for a moment, and then she pulled herself back together. She took in a deep breath.

  “It’s never quite so bad as it seems,” Helen said.

  I added, “And, it’s worth saying, there’s nothing at this stage you can do to disappoint. You’re doing more than enough. It pains me to see you this wound up.”

  “You’re right,” Shirley said. “But I do feel like a dunce, not being able to handle enough of this.”

  “You’re fine,” I said. “Really. Take my word for it.”

  “I do. I will.”

  “Good,” I said. I took in a deep breath, myself. “By the by, I’m not sure if you’ve had formal introductions. Shirley, this is Helen.”

  “We met, in very brief passing.”

  “Did we?” Helen asked.

  “When you broke into Sylvester’s orphanage. You came down through the roof and charged right past me.”

  “Oh,” Helen said. “That was a fun day.”

  Up until the end of it, at which point it was one of the more miserable days of my life, I thought.

  “I heard she was staying. You traded away the professor for her.”

  “In a sense,” I said. “I didn’t plan for it from the outset, but here we are.”

  “She uses the same body language techniques you tried to teach me.”

  “Taught you,” I said. “Didn’t try. Please don’t malign my abilities. And
I’ll tell you this. Those techniques? The framing of the body, posing, balance and clothing? Hers.”

  “Mine,” Helen said.

  “It’s what she does,” I said. “Except very natural. Spend time with her if you can. Study Helen. You can learn an awful lot, even if it’s hard to put into proper words. I studied her and figured out some tricks and techniques, but she’s a natural.”

  “I’m the furthest thing from natural,” Helen said. “You’re all made up of meat and vegetables, and here I am, sweet as spun sugar.”

  “She’s in a poetic mood,” I whispered to Shirley.

  Shirley nodded.

  “Getting back to the introductions, Helen, this is Shirley someone I owe a tremendous amount to. More than I can say. I owe her my sanity, which she really went to great personal risk to escort safely to the brink and walk back to reality with. With that in mind, we treat her as nicely as we would anyone. Please.”

  “I treat everyone nicely,” Helen said.

  “…Yeah,” I said. “Treat Shirley the right kind of nice. The non-hurting kind of hugs, if you hug her at all.”

  “Of course,” Helen said. Her expression was perfect. Entirely convincing.

  Which wasn’t convincing at all, in its perfection.

  “Alright,” I said. “One student won’t leave, four students are at war, what else?”

  “The youngest boy of Otis’ group. He’s holding a grudge over a girl. It’s not explicitly stonewalling anything, but people are nervous. A lot of people are nervous. Otis didn’t survive the night, his men are uneasy and frustrated, some are posturing. I think ten or twelve students have mentioned it in passing, all with the impression that someone might come looking for revenge, or try to take command of the thugs.”

  “Alright,” I said.

  Shirley nodded, apparently emboldened by my lack of concern. “Last of all, three students are having second thoughts. They’re wondering if, if they were to leave, they could just make their way back to Beattle and lie about being kidnapped.”

  “If they have to,” I said. “Tell them to come with. I don’t like the idea of three students wandering off in the cold because they aren’t a picture of the group.”

  Shirley nodded.

  “We can tackle this,” I said. “This is all doable.”