After The Fall (Book 2): The City

by Dalton, Charlie

  “I knew it!” Fatty said. “Didn’t I say we should sit here and wait for them to let us out?”

  “Even a broken clock is right twice a day,” Donny said with a sniff.

  “How long will we have to wait?” Lucy said.

  “It varies,” the girl said.

  “On what?” Lucy said.

  “On how desperate they are to hunt,” the girl said, picking something out of her teeth.

  Hunt. Now there was a word Jamie hadn’t expected her to say.

  “What do you mean, hunt?” he said.

  “It’s been a while since someone stumbled into their little subterranean domain down here,” the girl said. “My guess is they’ll wait a long time before letting you out.”

  “But why hunt us?” Jamie said.

  The girl shrugged.

  “They like hunting,” she said. “Let you escape, then chase you down.”

  “Why?” Jamie said.

  “What they say is it’s to help you see the Lord’s will,” the girl said. “In truth, they’re cruel bastards and like seeing people suffer. They like it because it’s what they had to go through to get here.”

  “But—” Jamie said.

  “Stop looking for logic in this,” the girl said. “These people dress in eighteenth-century English clothes and think they’re God’s favoured children. Do they sound like rational people to you?”

  “I guess not,” Jamie said. “But shouldn’t it be the ones who try to escape that are the strongest?”

  “Again, yes,” the girl said. “But that’s logic talking. They know their god doesn’t whisper to anyone because they didn’t hear him either. They gave up trying to escape and accepted they were going to die. Only then were they set free. They want others to experience the same suffering they themselves endured.”

  “I don’t understand,” Jamie said.

  “Of course you don’t,” the girl said. “You’re not from around here. Prisoners escape, then the devout catch them. They make them choose which limbs they want to lose first. The next time they attempt an escape it becomes harder. It’s easier to catch you then. Another limb. On and on it goes. Chop, chop, chop.”

  “I feel sick,” Fatty said.

  “What happens when you give up?” Donny said.

  “Then you’re no longer any fun,” the girl said. “And you’ll stop trying to escape. Your spirit is broken. Now, they’ll accept you into their fold. You’ll be flexible, pliable. You’ve accepted and welcomed death. You will do whatever they say and consider yourself lucky. And most importantly, you no longer have any fire inside you. You won’t try to escape. You’ve been molded into a loyal servant.”

  “So are you going to help us get out of here or are you just going to gab all day?” Donny said.

  The girl’s head snapped up. She locked eyes on Donny, breaking her own rule of them not acknowledging each other.

  “Maybe I’ll finish this cigarette and mosey on out of here,” she said. “Leave you guys to your fate.”

  “Ignore him,” Jamie said. “He gets hotheaded sometimes.”

  “You need to learn how to control your emotions, chum,” the girl said. “It’ll get you in trouble one of these days.”

  Now there was a serious case of the pot calling the kettle black, Jamie thought. Judging by how angry the girl was when she’d left the meeting with the Preacher, she was about ready to commit murder.

  Jamie put a hand on his older brother’s arm. Donny snapped his mouth shut, staring daggers at the girl. He hated letting anyone get the better of him.

  “Are you going to help us?” Jamie said.

  “Sure,” the girl said. “As you asked so nicely.”

  She flicked her cigarette to the floor.

  “It’s their lunchtime,” she said. “And it’s about time I get my horse out of here. You need to climb out of your cage. Then I’ll lead you to my cart.”

  “Wait,” Fatty said. “How do we know we can trust you and you aren’t part of this whole setup?”

  “Do I look like I’m part of this nuthouse?” the girl said, holding out her arms for them to inspect her ensemble.

  “You could be a spy, someone sent here to make us think you’re not one of them,” Fatty said.

  “I could also be the Easter Bunny,” the girl said. “Look, you don’t have to trust me. Listen to your gut. What’s it telling you?”

  “That I’m hungry,” Fatty said.

  “That we should trust her,” Jamie said.

  “Are you willing to lose a hand for that feeling?” Donny said. “After hearing what they do to people who try to escape, I’m not sure I want to take the risk.”

  “Well, you’ve changed your tune!” Fatty said.

  “Even if they let you out of the cage they’re not going to let you leave the commune,” the girl said. “It’s not in their playbook. You’ll have to work here. Forever. Or until you die or murder everyone. That’s the only way you’re getting out. Really out. And I’m definitely not coming back here again. You’ve got this one chance with me. Take it or leave it. It doesn’t matter a jot to me.”

  A pause.

  “Everyone chooses for themselves,” Jamie said. “I’m going. Lucy?”

  “Me too,” Lucy said.

  “Donny?” Jamie said.

  “You think I want to stay here?” Donny said. “It’s worth an arm to learn the truth.”

  “Fatty?” Jamie said.

  The podgy little boy looked from one face to the next. He sighed, giving up.

  “I suppose,” he said.

  “If we get caught they might do you a favour and shave some of that lard off,” Donny said.

  Fatty shoved him.

  “Let’s go,” the girl said.

  78.

  THE GIRL was right. The streets were empty. The locals were heading for lunch. The clatter of cutlery on ceramic plates and the low murmur of polite conversation. Every few minutes the Preacher’s booming voice punctuated the event. It sent a shiver up Jamie’s spine. He could only make out some of the words like: “resurrection,” “peace to all mankind” and “punishment.” A real crowd pleaser.

  They crept behind a house, backs to the wall. Jamie was very aware of how sensitive his fingers were to the wall’s rough surface. Enjoying the sense of touch he’d grown accustomed to. Get caught escaping and he might lose it.

  The girl held up a hand. The others stopped. They didn’t so much as breathe as a figure clattered around inside the house they were standing outside.

  The light came on and the shutters on the window were thrown open. Jamie was on one side, the shutter giving him some protection. If the local looked down they would almost certainly make out his legs and feet.

  He could preemptively attack them, he thought. With what? A nice rock at his feet drew his eye. He slowly bent down and picked it up. The girl’s eyes went wide and she shook her head. Don’t do it!

  Jamie kept the rock, straightening up again. The shutters closed and the lights went out. The Preacher’s voice undulated in the building’s direction. The man inside shouted, “I’ve got it! Coming!” And jogged back to the main square.

  Jamie relaxed. He didn’t let go of the rock. It felt too good in his hand, muscles aching and tense. Something to attack with. The girl pushed on.

  Her horse was a stallion by the name of Humperdinck. He was brown, shaggy, and more than a little long in the tooth. The cart was long enough for a grown man to lay in, so they ought to have no problem. It already had a bunch of items in the back, covered by a large tarpaulin sheet.

  The girl took a carrot out of her pocket and gave it to Humperdinck, who neighed and stamped his back leg in pleasure.

  “You guys get in the back,” the girl said, wary of how exposed they were in the open like this. “I’ll get us through the checkpoint.”

  “What checkpoint?” Jamie said.

  “The one that we have to pass through to get out of here,” the girl said.

  She lifted u
p the tarpaulin. The items she traded were divided into rows of wooden benches.

  “I moved most of the stuff to the top row,” the girl said. “You should fit under the second row.”

  Jamie, Lucy, and Fatty climbed onto the back, creeping under the sheet. It was dark and hot under there and smelled of raw vegetables.

  “Control yourself until we get out of here, Fatty,” Jamie said.

  “I couldn’t eat even if I tried,” Fatty said.

  Jamie knew how he felt. He couldn’t imagine swallowing a single bite without it coming back up, he was so nervous. Or maybe it was the smell of vegetables that turned him off food.

  “Your turn,” the girl said to Donny.

  “I’m not going on the back,” Donny said.

  “You can’t sit up front with me,” the girl said. “I always come alone.”

  “I’m not sitting up front either,” Donny said.

  He crouched down and shuffled under the cart. He placed his hands and feet inside a series of gaps and crevices.

  “Are you sure you can hold on long enough?” the girl said.

  “Don’t worry about me,” Donny said. “You make sure we get past the checkpoint. If it doesn’t look good, stomp your foot, and I’ll creep up behind the guards.”

  He held out a hand.

  “What?” the girl said.

  “Give me a knife,” Donny said.

  “They took my weapons at the checkpoint on the way in here,” the girl said.

  “That would hardly stop someone like you now, would it?” Donny said.

  A smile spread across the girl’s face.

  “I suppose not,” she said.

  A knife slid out the end of each of her sleeves. Small knives. Throwing knives. Sharped to razor blades.

  “Thanks for doing this,” Donny said.

  “Just remember it’s my limbs on the line too,” the girl said. “So don’t take any unnecessary risks.”

  “You have my word,” Donny said. “And by the way. If Fatty’s right and you turn out to be a part of this twisted commune’s plans, I’ll slit you ear to ear. You get me?”

  The girl’s smile widened into a grin.

  “I get you,” she said.

  Donny put one of the throwing knives between his teeth and tucked the other in his boot. Then he gripped the handholds tight and hung upside down.

  The girl hopped into the driving seat and clicked out the corner of her mouth. Humperdinck leaned forward, taking the weight, and began walking. They were on their way.

  79.

  THE CART trundled over the hardpacked road. There were no shock absorbers on the wheels, so they could feel every bump, swaying side to side.

  Fatty, tucked beneath ripe cabbages, appeared to have already gotten his appetite back and was nibbling on one of the leaves. He extended his neck to reach it. Unable to complain and thus relax, Fatty’s next habit to keep calm was eating. Jamie didn’t want to deprive him of that but he could see what would happen if he didn’t intervene.

  Fatty would keep tugging on that cabbage, harder and harder as he munched away at it. He’d end up dislodging it, causing the others to fall. The guards would hear it, tear the tarpaulin open, revealing them lying there in all their glory. Goodbye fingers and toes.

  Jamie reached up and tugged the leaf off, then handed it to his friend. No way the cabbages could fall now. Then making doubly sure his friend wouldn’t give them away, he decided it best to hand his friend several leaves. Better safe than sorry.

  Lucy was the smallest of them all and was curled up quite comfortably beneath her row. Jamie’s backside was already growing numb, so he rolled onto his side. He felt trapped and couldn’t get comfortable. Any movement resulted in catching his elbows or knees on something.

  The things they did to survive.

  80.

  THE CART slowed down and leaned back slightly as Humperdinck took a pathway that led up an incline. His hooves kicked up a small amount of dust as the angle shifted, blanketing Donny’s head and face. He pulled himself up slightly, closing the gap between himself and the cart bed. Most of the dirt missed him. If he didn’t know better, he would have said the girl was deliberately taking the horse over the roughest parts of the road. He clenched his teeth and stiffened his jaw. What a girl.

  The road grew steeper. Donny held on tight, leaning with the movement. His muscles already ached but it felt good to be working them again. A thin film of sweat on his forehead turned the dust into slivers of mud.

  The road leveled out as they reached the hill’s apex. The cart trundled at its slow, steady pace. Donny lowered slightly and arched his back to see the doorway out of that hellhole. Torches burned low on either side of it, revealing the twin pair of worn boots of the guards on duty.

  “Woah,” a guard said. “Hold up there, my pretty.”

  “I’m not your pretty,” the girl said.

  “Not yet you’re not,” the guard said. “When are you going to let me have my way with you, ay?”

  “At about the same time my boot has its way with your ass,” the girl said.

  “You know how I like it,” the guard said.

  The guards laughed.

  Donny rolled his eyes. Was now really the time to pick fights? He admired her fire but she could be as caustic as an old mule. He bet she kicked like one too. For all he knew, she was always like this. Maybe it was best for her to maintain her character or else cause suspicion.

  “Anything to declare?” the guard said.

  “Only my genius,” the girl said.

  The guard snorted. Donny could imagine the grin on the man’s face. Let it go, pal. You’ve got no chance.

  “I see you’ve still got a lot of wares left,” the guard said. “What’s the matter? The Preacher ain’t interested in your goods no more?”

  “You should take that up with him,” the girl said stiffly.

  “A shame,” the guard said. “I always liked your peaches.”

  “You’ve never tried my peaches,” the girl said.

  “I’ll bet they’re juicy,” the guard said.

  “You play your cards right and you might find out one day,” the girl said.

  “You hear that, Errol?” the guard said. “She says I might find out if her peach is juicy or not one day.”

  “One day will be no day,” Errol said.

  Amen.

  “When are you coming back here again?” the guard said. “I’ll get myself nice and ready for you.”

  “That depends on your Dear Leader,” the girl said. “If he wants my wares, I’ll come here more often.”

  “I’ll try to get a petition going,” the guard said. “This might be our last time together. Are you sure you don’t want to make it memorable? I’ve seen the way you look at me.”

  “Oh man, you caught me,” the girl said. “And I thought I was being too coy for you to notice.”

  “I’ve got a sense about these things,” the guard said.

  “I’ll bet you do,” the girl said. “I hear it’s called gaydar.”

  Errol hacked a laugh and slapped his knee. One of the guards spat, landing not more than four inches from Donny.

  Donny concentrated on the voices. He didn’t know this girl. He couldn’t trust her. He didn’t know if she would betray them. She seemed the type to do anything she had to to survive—even betray innocent kids trying to make their way through the world. He listened for any inflection of her voice to indicate she was signalling to the guards.

  The knife in his mouth tasted sharp, the metal honed. It would slice flesh open better than any sword, he bet. He could spit it into his hand in an instant to slash at his enemies. Who would have thought throwing knives could be so versatile?

  Thump!

  Donny froze. Something had fallen. Something in the cart?

  “What was that?” the guard said.

  Rustling as the guards drew their crossbows.

  “Mind if we take a little look at your cart?” the guard said.


  “Be my guest,” the girl said. “It’ll be a dislocated cabbage or something along those lines.”

  The guards began to step around the cart. Donny lowered himself to the ground and took the throwing knife out of his mouth, reached down for the other one in his boot. He began to shift his weight and turn around and head for the back of the cart when the guards stopped.

  “Hold up,” the guard said. “I think I’ve found what it was. Apples. Horse apples.”

  It was only then Donny smelled Humperdinck’s latest contribution to the fertilizer industry. And the stink! Donny looked away and pressed his nose to his shoulder. Damn, that was strong! His eyes burned.

  “All right,” the guard said. “Get on out of here. And don’t forget our next date.”

  “See you soon,” the girl said, blowing him a kiss and clucking out the corner of her mouth.

  Humperdinck moved forward. Donny pulled himself back up to the cart’s bed. Not fast enough, as his head sailed through the horse’s mess. It trickled down the back of his neck. It wasn’t even hard, but wet, warm and loose.

  Horse dung or no, they’d made it. They were getting out of this dump.

  81.

  HUMPERDINCK WAS a good horse—the best horse—in Isabelle’s opinion. He was deceptively strong, her pride and joy. He’d been her only consistent friend during their many adventures together. He had saved her life countless times by his priceless ability to always know when something was wrong, and she had protected him when he was a little slow when sick or injured.

  He was getting old, and that saddened her. She couldn’t imagine living without him, never mind how she would run her business. Isabelle was a practical, pragmatic person who did things only when the bottom line was thick enough. If it wasn’t, then she passed by without a second glance.

  As they entered that same familiar dark tunnel that led to the bright white circle of light leading to the outside world, Isabelle shared Humperdinck’s calm. That wasn’t so tough, was it boy?

  And then the alarm sounded.