Skin Trade

by Tonia Brown

  “When you ended up here,” Mr. Theo said. “For no reason at all.”

  “I told you the truth. I don’t know why I’m here.”

  “Then let me tell you why. The wrong people found out about your secret work, and it was lights out for Mortimer.”

  Mortimer closed his eyes and returned to chewing his lip.

  Mr. Theo continued, “The skin trade greases an awful lot of palms. I’m not proud to say this, but it’s going to take more than one man working on a cure to close this racket down.”

  “I suspect you’re right,” Mortimer said. “Well, the joke is on them, because I hid my notes where no one can find them.”

  “Then you had some idea this would happen?”

  “Well, maybe. I had to hide them, because the information was volatile. You see, in my studies, I may have uncovered evidence of where the plague originated.”

  “You mean the exact Indian tribe?” I asked.

  “No. I have reason to believe it was created slightly closer to home.”

  “Created?”

  “He means to say the U.S. government engineered it,” Mr. Theo said. “Probably to suppress the Indian threat.”

  Mortimer gave a gasp almost as girlish as mine. “How did you know that?”

  Mr. Theo shrugged. “Lucky guess?”

  I suspected it was more than that. If he didn’t have his own evidence to support his claim, then he had at the very least given it far more thought than a lucky guess.

  “You don’t seem surprised,” Mortimer said.

  “Son,” Mr. Theo started, “when you reach my age and have seen the things I’ve seen, nothing surprises you anymore.” Mr. Theo smirked, giving me a sly wink as he added, “Almost nothing.”

  “Well, yes, you’re correct. I found a fair amount of evidence that suggested we did indeed create and breed the virus, then spread it among the native tribes.”

  “But why would we do that?” I asked, just as naïve as usual.

  “I can’t be sure, but I think for the same reason as you suggest, good sir. The natives threatened our Manifest Destiny, as it were. So we … well … we put a stop to it. And them, it would seem.”

  “Then tell me this,” Mr. Theo said. “If we made it, then why on earth are you all having such a hard time making it go away?”

  “Because it wasn’t supposed to do this. From the notes I’ve read, it was supposed to make the natives sick, yes, but not kill them. At least not all of them. And certainly not bring the dead back to life. But it mutated somewhere along the line. Perhaps it was a fault in the delivery system, or maybe just a bad crop of the disease, but things got far out of hand before my father could-” Mortimer covered his mouth to hide the truth, but it was too late. He had already said it aloud.

  A few heartbeats of silence passed as we all digested his accidental confession.

  “Your father’s responsible for the infection,” I said.

  The young scientist hung his head. “Yes. It was my father’s creation, and my family’s secret shame.”

  What a terrible burden for the young man to carry, the knowledge that his father had caused so much death and mayhem.

  He gave a long, tired sigh. “Now I know why my mother tried so hard to keep me from following in my father’s footsteps. I wanted to be a great scientist like him. If I’d only known, I would’ve gone into politics, like my mother wanted.”

  “Don’t take it too hard,” Mr. Theo said. “A man’s heritage don’t account for the state of his soul. Only you and God know what you’re responsible for.”

  “Silver lining, eh? I tried to make up for it. I tried so hard to seek a cure. Yet despite my good deeds, I’m in the last place I ever expected to see. The Badlands. I thought as much when I first came to, but was hoping for better.”

  “The only thing that surprises me is that you aren’t already dead.”

  “You and me both, good sir. But leaving me out here was as good as killing me. I don’t know how to fight. I can’t defend myself. I mean, how could I ever expect to survive, much less make it back home?” Mortimer’s eyes went wide with excitement. “Unless you help me.”

  “What was that?”

  But Mortimer was lost in his own enthusiasm. “Yes, yes. It’s perfect. You might be right after all. Someone up there might be looking out for me. Finding you is providence or fate or what have you.”

  Mr. Theo leaned in close to me and whispered, “What’s he going on about?”

  “I don’t know,” I said.

  “You,” Mortimer said. “I’m going on about you. Both of you. You said you were willing to help me. Well, you can do just that by taking me back.”

  “Back,” I said. “Back where?”

  “Home!” Mortimer shouted. “Back east. Back to civilization. Back to my work.”

  “That ain’t gonna happen,” Mr. Theo said.

  “You don’t understand. The people have to know the truth-”

  “No,” Mr. Theo said over him. “You don’t understand. By help, I meant something along the lines of giving you a change of clothes and a skin of water. I didn’t mean escorting your sorry carcass back to the border just so they can shoot you where you stand.”

  Mortimer’s eyes filled with confusion as he jawed the air, at a loss for words.

  “They keep a registry at the border,” I explained. “If your name and identity aren’t on it, they will kill you without question.”

  “How barbaric,” Mortimer said.

  “But necessary,” Mr. Theo said. “If folks could just slip back and forth across the borders, then the infection would eventually make it through as well.”

  “You just said this place was crawling with people.”

  “Actually, I do believe I said dangerous fugitives. They flee here rather than face the gallows, or are escorted here under exile, but they also stay here. It’s easy to get through, but almost impossible to go back.”

  “I see.” Mortimer slumped again.

  “It gets worse. Even those of us on the books have to submit to a search before we can cross the line. Our goods are turned out. Our persons are well violated. Even the goats are given an intimate and uncomfortable search, all for safety’s sake. Which is why we haven’t been back east for a long time now. Rather than drop our drawers, we drop our goods at a checkpoint and get on with the trade. Don’t we, boy?”

  I nodded in agreement, comfortable with the lie my mentor wove. Or was it a lie? If he was truly a runaway slave, then how long had it been since Mr. Theo had been back east?

  “Full-body searches,” Mortimer said with a shudder. “I had heard of such things, but it is often hard to separate rumor from fact.”

  “I know what you mean,” I said.

  “Yet I have to get back. Regardless of the dangers, I must get back.”

  “Why?” Mr. Theo asked. “What makes you think that, if you get back, those same folks are going to leave you be? Even if you do get back east, they will just kill you this time. I guarantee it.”

  “I don’t doubt that, but if the right people knew what was going on, what happened to me, then they would protect me. They would protect all of us.”

  “The right people? Son, I hate to tell you this, but like I said, this whole undead business keeps too many folks in too much power on both sides of the border. I don’t think anyone is interested in putting an end to it, much less developing a cure.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong.” Mortimer sat tall and set his jaw in defiance, his tone changing to one of command rather than the nervous whine of before. “There might be a handful of people interested in keeping things the way they are, but there are far more who want this madness to cease. You say you haven’t been back east in a while? Then you have no idea how bad things have gotten. The overcrowding. The lack of spirit. Our nation is floundering in a small strip of land, overpopulated and undersupplied and out of time. We need the western front returned to us. We need to solve the undead problem once and for all. You owe
it to your country. We all do.”

  “That’s a lovely speech,” Mr. Theo said. “But that country you speak of is your problem. Not mine. It stopped being my problem years ago. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to reset the alarms and store that body before it attracts anything else.”

  This said, my mentor donned his jacket in silence and slipped out the door into the cool night air.

  Mortimer turned to me with a complete mask of shock. “Was it something I said?”

  “I’m afraid Mr. Theo isn’t a fan of flag-waving,” I said.

  “I didn’t mean to insult him. I must admit, I’ve never interacted very well with their kind.” Mortimer lowered his voice and asked, “How do you serve under him? Doesn’t it make you … um … uncomfortable? I mean, taking the command of a Negro like that? Having him tell you what to do?”

  I shrugged.

  “I don’t see how you manage,” Mortimer said.

  His attitude toward Mr. Theo’s race wasn’t foreign to me, but it seemed silly in the grand scheme of things. Here we were in the thick of the undead wilds, under the constant threat of attack and infection, and this man focused on the color of my mentor’s skin?

  The fact that Mr. Theo was a Negro had little influence upon my feelings toward him. In truth, I had never given the question of my supposed racial superiority much thought. I spent a lifetime mingling with a variety of races, both in the orphanage and in the workhouse. Population congestion in the cities made segregation an almost impossible task these days. Even Mrs. Fathom employed many a dark-skinned girl for the same work that was forced upon me. My fair skin and blue eyes—the result of some undetermined European heritage—felt like a burden rather than a blessing. These same fair features were what attracted Mrs. Fathom to me, as well as what brought countless paying customers into my bed.

  “Mr. Theo is a good man,” I said. “I trust him. He knows what he’s doing, and he’s a good instructor. He tells me what I need to know, and I listen.”

  “Does he listen to you in turn?” Mortimer asked.

  “We talk …”

  He furrowed his brow at me and began to plead again. “Then talk to him for me. Please, you have to make him see how important this is. He must get me across the border. I can make it worth your while. For both of you. Fame. Fortune. Influence. All of it can be yours if you just get me back home.”

  “Fortune?” Now he was talking in a language I understood. The right amount of money meant the end of this terrible nightmare. With the right amount of money, I could buy a new home. A new name. A new life. “How much?”

  “More than you can imagine. Your friend out there is wrong. I know for a fact that there are those who will do anything, pay any price, to find a cure.”

  I edged toward the door. “I’ll talk to him, but I can’t promise anything. Maybe we can work something out?”

  Mortimer’s face lit with hope. “Yes, of course. Any help would be most appreciated. And please, explain that I didn’t mean to insult him. You know, growing up, I had a Negro for a nanny, and I was quite fond of her. She was less like a servant and more like an aunt. A very distant aunt, mind you, but I suppose the sentiment is still the same. Isn’t it?”

  “I’ll try to help him understand.”

  I slipped through the door and took a moment to let my eyes adjust to the darkness. In the moonlight, I saw my mentor at the edge of the porch, fastening a thin rope to what looked like the metal arm of some contraption. The musty smell of the corpse rose to meet me from somewhere in the shadows.

  “Get back inside,” Mr. Theo said. “You shouldn’t be out here. It’s dangerous.”

  “I just wanted to see what the alarm system looked like,” I said.

  “It’s a trip rope tied to some bells. Simple as that. Now get back inside.”

  “I thought maybe we could talk … about things.” I thought I heard him chuckle, but it could have been my uneasy footsteps on the worn porch slats.

  “You trying to change my mind?”

  “Maybe we should hear the fellow out. He seems to-”

  “First you and now him,” Mr. Theo said over me in a gruff grumble. “Where did I go wrong?”

  I stopped in both my steps and my words.

  “I just don’t get it,” he said. “I managed on my own for years without trouble. Just me and the open range and the revs. It was sweet. The most peace I’ve known for a long time. I guess it was too good to last. I let my guard down for one second, and now I’m playing wet nurse to some simpering runaway who wants me to risk everything to help some stranger who neither of us knows from Adam’s housecat.”

  “I’m sorry, sir,” I whispered.

  “Sorry for what?” He turned to face me, blotting out the low light from the moon until he was nothing more than a seething shadow. “If both of you are telling the truth, then it ain’t neither of your faults you’re out here. But it’s also not my fault, or my job to take care of the pair of you. I have a job already. And it keeps me plenty busy.”

  “I told you the truth, and if it makes any difference, I think that man in there is telling the truth as well.”

  “You’re too trusting, young ‘un. No wonder you ended up out here with the likes of me.”

  “Maybe you don’t trust folks enough. But I can’t say I blame you. This whole thing must be awkward for you.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I mean your, well, your history, sir. Your past is rising to haunt you. The very nation that counted you as property now comes to you for aid-”

  “Don’t,” he growled over me. “Please, Sam, just … don’t.”

  “I know you think you’re all alone, sir, but I want you to know I understand. My circumstances might not have been the same, but I know what it’s like to be owned. I understand what you’re going through.”

  He sighed, tired and beaten.

  “I understand,” I repeated.

  To my surprise, he moved in closer, squatted to my level and pulled me into a tight embrace. Rubbing small circles on my back with his huge hand, he said softly, “I know you think you do, little one. You suffered so much, and I wish I could take it all away from you, but it ain’t half the horror compared to what I’ve seen …” His words trailed off as he sighed again. I thought I heard him mumble, “It doesn’t matter now anyway.”

  I rested my head on his shoulder and whispered, “I trust you, sir. I’ll do whatever you ask of me. You know that.”

  “I know.” He released me and stood in silence, looking down at me for a moment, weighing either the situation or my words, I couldn’t be sure. “Is the young man right about the state of things? It’s been years and years since I’ve been back east.”

  “He is right,” I said. “The safe zones are pretty bad. You can’t move for the people, much less breathe. The borderlands are far better, of course. There is so much land just ripe for the taking, but folks won’t move back until they are sure the threat is dealt with.”

  “And you think he has the answer?”

  “A cure would be more than an answer. It wouldn’t just end the infection, sir, it would … well, it would fix everything.”

  “And what about the truth of things? Do you think folks back east are ready to swallow that they did this to themselves?”

  “I don’t know about all that. But I think he deserves a chance to redeem himself. We all do. Sir.”

  “You think so, huh?”

  “Maybe. But what do I know? I’m just a simpering runaway.” I grinned, unsure if he could see me.

  “No you’re not. You’re a certifiable smartass.”

  “Thank you, sir. Coming from you, I’ll consider that a compliment.”

  “All right then, smartass, how do you plan on getting him back east?”

  I gasped. “You’ll do it?”

  “I don’t see how I can refuse you.” He pushed a stray hair from my forehead as he lowered his voice again and said, “You remind me so much of her.”
/>   “Thank you.”

  “No, thank you. I reckon I was getting too comfortable here anyway. It’s time to get along. Especially if Dillon and his men are on my tail.”

  In the excitement of the stranger’s visit, I had almost forgotten that bit. “Then we will take him to the border?”

  “Certainly. Once you tell me how you plan on sneaking that bow-tied clown in there past a thousand well-armed guards. ‘Cause I’m fresh out of ideas.”

  “Actually, sir, I think I know a way.”

  We lowered our voices again as I explained my idea.

  ****

  return to table of contents

  ****

  Chapter Fifteen

  Mortimer paced the sunlit room, shaking his head and repeating the same words over and over. “No one is going to believe I am a fifteen-year-old boy.”

  Mr. Theo and I had tried to explain our plan the night before, after we let the young man know we would help him. But Mortimer didn’t allow us a chance to outline our idea. He thanked us kindly, bid us goodnight and collapsed into a sated heap of peaceful sleep.

  “You didn’t know Pete,” I said around a mouthful of flapjacks. “He wasn’t like any other kid. He was big. Bigger than you, even.”

  Mortimer stopped and stared at us. “You’re joking.”

  “Nope,” Mr. Theo said. He took a long pull from his morning brew before he said, “That boy was almost as big as my goat. Bigger.”

  “And you say he’s … well … gone now?”

  “Yes,” I said, then swallowed hard before I recited my practiced lie. “He met with an accident while we were on the trail.”

  “What kind of accident?” Mortimer asked.

  “The kind you don’t recover from,” Mr. Theo said, and left it at that.

  “I don’t understand how this is supposed to work,” Mortimer said. “I’m a grown man, not a child. No one will believe it.”

  “They will,” I said. “They take your name, description and measure at the border, and telegraph the details to all other checkpoints. All we have to do is go back, say you’re Pete, and your measure should be close enough. If we go through the same checkpoint, I think a soldier there will vouch for us.” I almost blushed as I remembered the handsome Private Blankenship as he sadly waved me goodbye. What a surprise it would be if he saw me again! I didn’t know how we would explain the missing Boudreaux, or the fact that I was really a Samantha instead of a Samuel, but both Mr. Theo and I decided to cross those bridges as we met them.