A chorus of murmurs follows his proclamation.
“I see your point,” I say, and Ida raises an eyebrow. There is no use telling her I was considering the exact same line of thought, everything is philosophical until we deal with the matter at hand. “But if we are going to get out of this town, we need a plan. And that means we need Jane.”
Ida grins. “Now you’re thinking. No one plots like that girl.”
I sigh. “You are more correct than you know.”
The door opens, and Gideon walks out. The expression on his face is that of a man who has just gotten an earful from Jane McKeene. I hurry over to him, Ida on my heels.
“Well?” I ask.
“Jane was quite adamant that she did not trust the council and wouldn’t even consider my proposal,” Gideon says with a deep sigh.
“What proposal?” Ida asks.
Gideon turns to Ida with a polite smile, though it is clear he is not fond of being interrupted. “When Jane arrived in Summerland, I gave her the same inoculation as I gave you and the rest of your associates who came from the Lost States. I need help convincing the town council that the formula is safe and a good first step in going beyond guns and walls for defense.”
“But who says your vaccine works?” Ida asks, looking Gideon directly in the eye. The midday heat could cause his resulting flush, but I daresay it is not.
“I do, and as I am the scientist here, I think that should be enough.”
“Well, obviously it ain’t if you need Jane’s help to convince folks to let you poke them,” Sue says, her voice low and steady. Gideon’s Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, and his discomfort is almost palpable.
He turns to me. “Either way, Miss Deveraux—Katherine—please stop by my house when you are finished here. I saw the rest of your traveling companions a little while ago and have already sent them on ahead. Accommodations in town are quite cozy at the moment, and I would be glad to welcome you into my home.” With one last sharp glance at Ida and Sue, Gideon walks off, irritation in every line of his body.
As he walks away, I catch Callie’s eyes following him, her expression somewhere between sad and hopeful. It is clear to me that this is not the first time she has met the tinkerer. Interesting.
“What in the Lord’s name is he thinking?” Ida exclaims once he is outside of earshot, bringing my attention back to the matter at hand. “Trying to use Jane to convince folks to become part of his research?”
“Yes, I daresay he has greatly underestimated Jane’s dedication to justice, even if she is a bit liberal with her misuse of facts every now and again,” I say.
Sue laughs. “That’s a very pretty way to say Jane’s a liar. But true enough, she’d never lie to folks if she thought they might get hurt by it. Any of us could have told him she wasn’t going to go for that silly proposal. Remember what happened back at that lecture in Baltimore?”
“Sheriff,” Ida says with a cough, and I turn.
Sheriff Redfern approaches, a stony look on his face. Jane told me once that Daniel Redfern is too pretty by half for a man, and while I can understand her attraction I just do not feel it. To be fair, I think Jane is attracted to just about any human who gives her a passing glance. Though Jane’s tendency to jump without looking is so often a source of vexation for me, I cannot help but be charmed at times by the way in which she so gleefully gives in to her appetites.
“Sheriff Redfern,” I say with a smile. “How are you this fine evening?”
The sheriff stops with a tip of his hat in my direction. “I am well, Miss Deveraux. And you all?” He gives Ida the kind of look that tells me the two of them have tangled in the past. Ida sets her jaw and glares daggers right back.
“Everything is brilliant,” I say with a laugh. “Ida here was just helping me understand how things work in Nicodemus.”
Sheriff Redfern shifts his weight, resting his forearms on his twin revolvers. Those guns are new—the last time I saw him was in Summerland, and the only weapon he had carried was a long Bowie knife tucked into a sheath by his side. The knife is still there, toward the middle of his belt.
“Well, Callie there might have enlightened you to the fact that gathering in large groups in the street is frowned upon in Nicodemus,” Redfern says, gesturing to the rest of the patrol. “Y’all need to start moving on along. It’s time for chow.” He gives me a polite smile, one that I suppose is meant to be reassuring. Men have been giving me that smile my entire life. I do not return it.
“My apologies, Sheriff, but I distinctly remember walking past a lynch mob when I entered town but a few hours ago. Was that unruly group also given the order to disperse?”
Redfern’s smile fades. “Just get a move on and mind your business. You’ll have an easier go of it if you do, Miss Deveraux.” He tips his hat at me and opens the door to his office.
“I need to see Jane,” I say.
“I’m afraid that isn’t possible.” And without another word he shuts the door in my face.
Ida snorts. “I could’ve told you that was going to happen. Now, if we’re done wasting time with pointless debate, maybe we can get going on the plan we’ve been working on.”
We walk back toward where the rest of the patrol is, and with a whistle from Ida folks begin to disperse. I wonder how she came to be the leader of such a motley crew in such a small time. What transpired in their flight from Summerland? I get the feeling it was not quite as uneventful a journey as ours.
Ida gestures for me to follow her, Callie, and a powerfully built boy with midnight-dark skin who introduces himself as Lucas. Sue dogs my heels; Lucas keeps glancing back, and it is a moment before I realize he is actually looking through me and right at Sue. I elbow her, and she gives me a hard look.
“What?”
“You have an admirer,” I say in a low voice.
Sue looks up, startled, and meets Lucas’s gaze before he gives her a small smile. She quickly looks down, and I grin.
“Stop laughing,” she says.
“Who is laughing?” I ask. Sue is the only one of us at Miss Preston’s that ever talked about getting married and having children. I think the rest of us figured that death would be the only embrace we would ever know. But not Sue. She was set on having little ones. The more terribleness I see in this world, the more I hope that just one Miss Preston’s girl might get a happily ever after. Maybe it could be Sue.
We weave in between the houses of Nicodemus until we stop by a spot near a heavily secured gate toward the rear of the settlement.
“So, this plan of yours?” I ask, feeling nervous and exposed.
“Get Jane and make a run for it,” Ida says. “I’m still figuring out the first part, but Callie has the second worked out.”
Callie nods. “This gate might look secure, but it’s actually used in the fall to bring in the harvest. It’s light enough for a single person to open, if the block is removed.”
“Once we get out of town, we head east, to the Kaw River,” Ida says. “From there, we can keep going east on the water until we get to the Mississippi. And from there, we can get anywhere.” Her eyes are bright just considering the possibilities.
“Even California?” I ask, remembering Jane’s letter from her momma.
“You can get anywhere you want, eventually, and traveling by water should mean we can avoid any run-ins with shamblers,” Ida says. “But it’s going to be a long walk to the Kaw, and we ain’t got nothing in the way of provisions. Even if we could find a way to steal from Nicodemus’s stock, it’s like to be nearly depleted by now, with all the new people from Summerland here.”
I nod. “That is my single greatest worry. Any ideas?”
“There’s a town not far from here, Arleysville,” Callie says. “It fell to shamblers about a year ago. It’s three days’ walk, but there’s supplies there—enough to get a hundred people to the river, easy.”
“But the town fell to the dead?” I say.
“We aim to clean it out,
take what we need, and keep moving. We reckon that the horde that hit Summerland had the Arleysville dead in with them, since they like to group up and all,” Ida says.
“This all sounds like something we can do,” Sue says, testing out the gate. It creaks as she leans against it, giving truth to Callie’s declaration.
“It certainly seems like a good idea,” I say. And since I do not have any of my own I do not feel a need to elaborate any further.
“But we still don’t know how we’re getting Jane out of there,” Sue says, with a nod back toward the Nicodemus jail. “If we don’t, she’s dead.”
“Any way you slice it, we need Jane,” Ida says. “I fought with her in Summerland. No one knows shamblers like her.”
“Right,” I say, biting my tongue. I want Jane with us as much as the next woman, but I was first in our class at Miss Preston’s, and I am no slouch when it comes to shambler killing. Same with Sue. But there is no reason to provoke disagreement when I finally have allies, so I go back to the most crucial matter at hand. “Any notions as to how we might win Jane her freedom?”
Lucas clears his throat, and we all turn to him. “I think I might have an idea.”
Therein, ye gods, you make the weak most strong;
Therein, ye gods, you tyrants do defeat:
Nor stony tower, nor walls of beaten brass,
Nor airless dungeon, nor strong links of iron,
Can be retentive to the strength of spirit;
But life, being weary of these worldly bars,
Never lacks power to dismiss itself.
—Shakespeare, Julius Caesar
—JANE—
Chapter 11
In Which I Cool My Heels
Being trapped in Nicodemus’s jail cell has me pensive. I’ve got nothing to do but think, and there’s too much I’d rather not be thinking about as the sun marks time against the far wall: Jackson, Gideon’s enraging proposal, getting my neck stretched, Rose Hill being no more, my momma and Aunt Aggie somewhere out there struggling to survive. Neither Momma nor Aunt Aggie are trained in the fine art of shambler disposal, and although Momma is fair enough of face to find a male protector, that thought just takes me down another path of worry and concern. It’s my experience that most men in the world are ne’er-do-wells, only too happy to compromise a lady the first chance they get, and Momma is too delicate to deal with the rough sort that tend to thrive in this dangerous world.
Great, now I’m thinking about the exact thing I didn’t want to be.
I roll over on the straw-filled mattress with a sigh. Sheriff Redfern sits in his office chair, feet up on the desk, snoring loud enough to summon the dead. If I wanted to skedaddle, now would be the time, but I’m no good at picking locks. Not like Jackson.
And just like that I’m crying.
I start off low and easy, but soon enough I’m biting my arm to keep my sorrow quiet enough that I don’t wake Redfern. I squeeze my eyes shut. I wish I believed in all that nonsense the clergy are always spouting off about heaven and eternal rest, but all I can think about is Jackson on his knees, begging me to end him before he turns.
“You all right?”
I glance up and Redfern is standing next to the bars, his face twisted up with something like worry. The sight is a right fine surprise, and I shake my head, tears falling hot onto my hands.
“I’m not going to let them hang you, Jane,” he says, perhaps mistaking my sobs for fear instead of grief. “Sheriff Snyder got nothing more than what he deserved, and the townsfolk here know that. You will walk out of that cell a free woman. I promise.” His tone is mild, but his words say more about him than he can know.
“I don’t know if that’s a promise you’ll be able to keep, Sheriff, but I appreciate the sentiment all the same.”
He nods and sighs. “Here, I’ll get you some more water.”
I hand him my empty canteen, and he leaves the office. While he’s gone I make use of the bucket; it might be a foul enterprise but I’m going to take my privacy where I can get it. I’ve just finished and am adjusting my skirts when there’s a commotion from outside.
“Jane McKeene!”
I place the bucket back in the corner and stride over to the small, barred window. I’m too short to see out properly, but on my tiptoes I catch a glimpse of Big Sue and someone else, a girl I don’t recognize.
“Big Sue, what’re you about?”
“Aw, it’s just Sue now. And this is Callie.”
A brown face appears in the window for a second before it disappears. “Hello!” the girl calls, and her face reappears as she jumps up to the window again. I get the impression of a slightly upturned nose, freckles, and a messy braid.
“Hey,” I respond, and to Sue I say, “So, what’s the plan?”
“What you need a plan for, Jane? Miss Priss said that white boy was going to get you out.” I can tell from Sue’s tone what her opinion is on that.
Despite my predicament I smile. “That white boy wanted me to play science experiment.”
“What you got against science? You were always going on and on about different discoveries you’d read about in those newspaper articles of yours.”
“Yup, but that was real science, not some fairy story made up by some boy with less sense than facial hair.”
Sue laughs, the sound low. “And Jane McKeene said, ‘Thanks, but no thanks, I’d rather hang.’”
“Hey, I got my honor.”
“Since when?” Sue jokes, and I laugh. It feels good after the day I’ve had.
“Well, either way I’m still here.”
Sue harrumphs. “For now.”
“Sue, gimme a boost,” Callie says. “It’s irksome trying to conversate with a person you cain’t see.” Her face appears in the window and she grins, a chip in one of her front teeth. “Did you really kill Sheriff Snyder?” the girl asks. I’d thought she was younger, but she actually looks like she might be older than me. Despite her carefree demeanor there’s a coldness to her eyes that puts me on my guard.
“I reckon I ought to plead the Fifth on that one since that’s why I’m in here,” I say. “Speaking of which, I need to get out of this place before these white folks decide they need a little show with dinner.” I stick my tongue out and mime being hung.
“Oh, my daddy won’t let them do that, don’t you worry,” she says.
“‘Daddy’?”
“Mayor Washington. That’s my paterfamilias.”
I blink. “You speak Latin?”
“You don’t?” she shoots back, and I smile. There’s something incredibly appealing about the girl, and not just because she reminds me of the stories of pixies my momma used to read me.
“Girl, you are heavy,” Sue grumbles from out of view.
“I am not, stop being mean. Anyway, Jane, I figure you’ve got a couple of days before anyone tries to run a lynch mob on you again. The council has been holding meetings all day, talking to all those survivors and taking statements. But right now they’re all too busy at the wall, getting ready to watch the rail gun take out the dead,” Callie says, her voice positively chirpy next to Sue’s lower timbre. “That’s why we’re here.”
“Rail gun? What’s that?”
Just then comes a sound, like a cannon shot but without the echo. And it doesn’t stop. It’s like a barking dog, but louder, dominating the still afternoon. I’d think it was thunder, but the sound is too close and the sky is as clear as can be.
“Did that answer your question?” Callie says. “Gideon built it. It uses magnetic fields to fire bullets, instead of gunpowder. It’s powered by electricity!”
“Ugh, you’re heavy,” Sue grunts. “And your boot is on my spine. Hurry up.”
“Sorry!” Callie says without really meaning it.
“Electricity,” I say, remembering Gideon’s experimental lab back at Summerland, his horrific shambler wheel. “How is it generated?”
“Windmills! That tinkerer sure is smart.”
&
nbsp; I remember now that Gideon had mentioned something about windmills. It’s better than keeping a bunch of shamblers inside the town walls to run his machines, anyway.
“So, you knew Gideon in Summerland?” she says. Her tone is light, but there’s an edge to it, a curiosity, and something in her face that makes me think that there’s more to her question than she’s letting on. I don’t know who this girl is or what she’s about, but I’m not about to give her any more information until I find out.
“I did.”
“Did he help you escape the horde there?” she asks.
“No. Let me talk to Big Sue,” I say. None of this is going to help me escape.
“It’s just Sue,” she says as Callie disappears and she comes back into view. “Don’t call me that no more.”
I open my mouth to tease her, but if she’s saying not to do something, there’s no fun in pushing her. Not the way there is with Katherine. “Okay, okay. So, back to the matter at hand. Getting me out of here.”
Just then, the gun falls silent.
“You see how that thing makes a racket, right?” Sue asks.
“Yep.”
“They’re going to fire it regular-like until that massive horde is gone,” Sue says.
“Every hour on the hour!” Callie says, jumping up behind Sue’s shoulder. If this wasn’t a life-and-death situation it’d be funny, the way Callie keeps bouncing back into view every now and again like an overeager puppy. “They can’t fire it for more than a minute or two at a time because it overheats.”
“They think they can take out that horde out there with these inventions,” Sue says. “But you and I know better, Jane McKeene. At some point, the bullets and the electricity and whatever else are going to run out, but the shamblers are just gonna keep on coming.”
I snort. “I already told them that.”
“They ain’t about to listen,” she says. “We saw the eastern horde when we were fleeing Baltimore. They can try fighting the dead all they want, but them shamblers never get tired. Never.”
It’s the most I’ve heard Sue talk in almost forever. But it ain’t ever about what Sue is saying, it’s about what she ain’t saying. She knows that there’s nothing to be done about a horde but to run from it, and that’s real life talking, not academic inquiry. I don’t care if Gideon’s got some of his fantastical inventions working here—if I was ever of a mind to put my faith in walls and guns, that time is past.
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