Last Fight

by S. J. Bryant

"The enforcers caught up."

  "Already?"

  Aart nodded. "Good thing we got off the ground when we did."

  "But they didn't see you?"

  "No. Otherwise I wouldn't be here. We should be safe for now. Get some rest."

  But Jonas looked worried; he leaned over and peered down even though the leaves blocked any view of the ground. "Did they say anything?"

  "Nothing important. One of them is panicked because he was supposed to be guarding us last night. Apparently their boss went out this morning; that's all."

  "The boss went out," Jonas said and smacked his forehead. "Of course."

  Aart frowned and faced Jonas. "What do you mean?"

  Jonas glanced at Aart and dropped his hand. "Oh, nothing. I… uh… I heard he had something on today. I should have thought of it."

  "What does it have to do with us?"

  "Nothing, nothing. The enforcers always get jumpy when he's out." Jonas peeled the scrap of cloth from his neck. "How does it look?"

  Aart leaned in close. "Messy."

  Jonas nodded. "It feels messy." He re-tied the scrap of cloth and then reached into his pockets. "I assume I'm the only one that thought of rations as well?"

  Red crept over Aart's cheeks.

  "Here." Jonas handed him a nutrient bar and a small bottle of water.

  "Thanks."

  They ate in silence, ears straining for sounds of enforcers. The forest remained quiet, almost too quiet. Then Aart realized what had been bothering him since they entered the trees. The locusts. Or the lack of locusts. The buzz which had become part of Aart's subconscious in his weeks on the plantation was gone and it left an eerie silence in its wake.

  He shivered. He'd never imagined he might miss that noise, but it did feel strange to be without it. He glanced at Jonas to mention it but found the other man asleep, his head resting against the tree trunk.

  Aart made sure Jonas was secure and then nestled himself between two branches and closed his eyes. The tips of his toes tingled, knowing how much distance separated him from the ground. What if he fell asleep and rolled off? Death. The thought made it hard to sleep and in the end he settled for closing his eyes and letting his thoughts wander.

  He needed a plan to find Delia and avoid the enforcers. So far he'd found no sign of people, but he wasn't far from the fence. If they kept going south, surely they had to find something? And avoiding the enforcers wouldn't be too hard, they couldn't search the whole planet and the longer Aart and Jonas avoided them, the more likely they were to give up. They'd lost people before, so they couldn't look everywhere.

  Aart pressed closer to the tree and enjoyed the gentle play of wind over his cheeks. The air smelled fresher here, away from the locusts and the crops; it smelled like air was supposed to.

  Once Jonas woke, they'd get down from the tree and keep going south, careful of any enforcers. Aart just had to hope that they'd find Delia and the others eventually; failing that, he had to hope they found their own way off the planet because they couldn't go back to the plantation. At least out here he was free, in a way, even if the threat of a bullet in the back loomed over him. It was better than working the fields; that came too close to working the mines back on Goldson. The Resource District was all the same. One day he'd come in and change things, free everyone, but for now he had to focus on himself, Jonas, and Delia.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Jonas slept until mid-afternoon while Aart kept watch. He heard two more sets of enforcers moving about the forest some distance away but none of them came close to the tree.

  Aart finished the nutrient bar and the water Jonas had given him and his back ached from being wedged in a tree all day, but at least they'd survived this far.

  "What did I miss?" Jonas said.

  "Not much. I think they're giving up on looking for us. How do you feel?"

  Jonas rolled his head. "A little sore, but better than it was."

  "Good. We need to keep moving."

  "Does that mean you know where we're going now?"

  Aart flushed. "Not exactly. But if we don't keep going, we'll never find them."

  "Right."

  Aart helped Jonas climb down from the tree and they stood at the base, listening. No voices or footsteps, just the wind in the trees. Aart led the way south, but kept a steady pace so Jonas could keep up. He strained his eyes and ears for any hint of enforcers. He had no idea how many were still out in the forest looking for them, and it would only take one to spot them.

  "The tree was a good idea," Jonas said. "And just in time."

  Aart shrugged. "Sorry about your neck."

  "No, you were right. They would have found us if we'd left it in."

  "At least—"

  A scuffle of movement in the trees ahead and then something cold and sharp pressed against Aart's neck. His heart leapt into his throat and his hand dropped to his waist where he usually kept his gun.

  "Don't move." Stale breath wafted over Aart's cheek. He glanced to his right and saw a filthy man holding a knife to Jonas' neck as well.

  "What—?" Aart said.

  "Silence." Figures emerged from the trees, Aart counted at least five but there might have been some behind him as well. The one who'd spoken stepped forward into a beam of afternoon light. A woman. Aart's heart fluttered.

  "Delia."

  The woman's eyes widened. "Who are you? How do you know my name?"

  "You're here! Do you know how much work it's been trying to find you?"

  "I ask the questions here. Who are you?"

  "Aart, this is Jonas. We were at the plantation, but we'd heard you'd come out here."

  "Tracking chips?"

  "We took them out."

  The person holding a knife to Aart's throat snatched his head and twisted it sideways to reveal the jagged scar on his neck.

  "That's not fresh," Delia said.

  "My escape was delayed."

  Delia glanced at Jonas and nodded at the bloody mess on his neck. "We've seen enforcers in the forest today."

  "They're looking for us," Jonas said.

  "You're trying to escape the plantation?"

  "Yes," Jonas said.

  Delia nodded and the knife fell away from Aart's throat. His shoulders sagged and he massaged his flesh where the blade had rested.

  "Then you're welcome with us," Delia said. "Come."

  She turned and led the way through the trees; her companions followed so Aart and Jonas fell in with them.

  Aart couldn't help grinning. After all his time on the plantation and his time in the shed, he'd finally found Delia. Now all he had to do was get her away from the planet and back to her father, and he could be done with the job.

  They turned east and trudged through the forest until dusk.

  "Aren't you worried about our trail?" Jonas said.

  "There are people behind us taking care of it," Delia said.

  Aart turned and stared into the trees but he couldn't see anyone.

  "They're good at not being seen," Delia said.

  They emerged into a clearing with rough beds made of leaves and a fire that was shielded on all sides by tall rocks. People sat around the clearing in small groups but they all stopped talking and stared at Aart and Jonas.

  "Aart?"

  Aart spun at his name.

  Gin emerged from the trees and edged toward him.

  "Gin!"

  Gin wrapped Aart in a tight embrace and then stepped back with his hands on Aart's shoulders. "What are you doing here?"

  "Me? What are you doing here? And when did you get here?"

  "A few days ago now," Gin said.

  "You know him?" Delia said to Gin.

  "We were in the same work group. He asked questions about you."

  Delia frowned. "What questions?"

  Gin shrugged. "Where you were. And look, he found you!"

  "I'm glad you got out too," Aart said.

  "I couldn't face spending the rest of my life there," Gin said.
He dropped his gaze. "Especially not if they kept sending me to the shed."

  "I know what you mean." Aart massaged his knee, which ached after a day spent running and climbing.

  Someone handed Aart a meat-covered bone and he chewed on it without wanting to know what kind of animal it came from.

  "How did you get over the fence?" Aart said.

  "The broken lights, of course."

  "But how did you find out about those?"

  "Zap told me. It took a long time for me to get it out of her, but I think after I came back from the shed for the fourth time she felt sorry for me."

  "The fourth time?"

  Gin frowned. "You were gone a long time. We actually thought that you'd… died."

  Aart stopped chewing. He'd almost forgotten that he'd been recovering for weeks. That whole time the world went on without him. "So Zap knew how to get over the fence this whole time?"

  "Yeah. She told me not to do it though. Apparently she knows a bunch of people who have got shot doing it."

  "Not us though," Aart said with a grin.

  "Not us." Gin's eyes sparkled.

  Inside, rage burned through Aart's chest. Zap had known how to get away from the plantation this whole time. If she'd just been honest with Gin, or with Aart, how much pain could it have saved them? And if Aart had just pushed her harder, then maybe he wouldn't have got caught escaping, he wouldn't have been sent to the shed, and he wouldn't have broken almost every bone in his body. But then… he wouldn't have met Jonas and the other man would still be trapped on the plantation.

  "You're all runaways?" Aart said and gestured to the people gathered around the clearing.

  Gin nodded.

  "I'd heard there were some people who had escaped, but I never suspected so many…"

  "The enforcers don't like to admit how many of us they've lost," Delia said.

  "Incredible," Aart said.

  "So where have you been all this time?" Gin said.

  "Recovering," Aart said. "I almost did die in the shed, but Jonas fixed me up."

  Jonas nodded around a hunk of meat.

  "You're a medic?" Delia said. "We need someone like you." She grabbed Jonas' sleeve and dragged him across the clearing to where a figure huddled beneath a layer of rags and leaves.

  Aart followed behind with Gin at his elbow.

  "I'm glad you're not. Dead, I mean," Gin said.

  "Me too."

  "What's wrong with him?" Jonas said. He finished his bone and tossed it into the trees before kneeling beside the prone figure.

  "Snake bite," Delia said. "He managed to make it over the fence and get to a place where we could find him, but he's not doing well."

  Jonas pulled back the layer of rags.

  The man's white face dribbled with sweat and his blue lips quivered.

  "You're right; he's not doing well. The plantation doesn't have many snakes but the ones it does have are bastards."

  "Yes, but we don't exactly have anti-venom here."

  Jonas chewed on his bottom lip. "How long since he was bit?"

  "Yesterday."

  "He's survived this long, that's good, but without the anti-venom there's not much we can do."

  "There has to be something."

  "If we take down his fever there's less chance of brain damage. I need tamkev leaves; boil them into a tea."

  "I'll get them," Gin said and jogged into the trees.

  "Anything else?" Delia said.

  "You can give him a stiff drink… and me too, if you have one.

  "Is that a good idea?"

  Jonas shrugged. "He'll either survive or he won't. The most we can do is make him comfortable."

  Delia reached into her coat and pulled out a flask. Jonas took a long swallow and then held it to the sick man's lips.

  Aart wouldn't have said no to a stiff drink either but resisted the urge. He needed to think straight. The enforcers could be anywhere in the forest, and he still had to find a way to get Delia, and all the others, away from the planet.

  "What if the enforcers hear us?" Aart said.

  "We've got traps and scouts," Delia said. "We'll know about them long before they know about us."

  "How can you be sure?"

  "We've lasted this long, haven't we? Besides, the enforcers never come this far. This community has been here for years and it's never been found."

  "Years? But you've only been missing a few months."

  Delia frowned. "Why are you so interested in me?"

  Gin returned with a cup of boiled water with green leaves floating on the top. Jonas took it and held it to the injured man's mouth.

  "You're the whole reason I'm here!" Aart said, grinning. "So are you in charge now? What about the people who came here years ago, did they find a way off planet?"

  "Yes. And they send regular ships here to pick up new runaways. They're due soon, and this time it'll be my turn."

  "Which means just one more month and it'll be mine!" Gin said.

  "What do you mean?" Aart said. "Why don't you go with the next ship?"

  "The rules," Delia said. "You have to stay, help the community, and help new runaways for at least a month before you leave. Otherwise, if we all went on the next ship, who would be here to help the next person who stumbles into the forest?"

  "Oh." Aart gazed around at the runaway workers who sat in small groups talking or eating. It was selfless, staying behind to help whoever came after you. He couldn't imagine many people being okay with that, especially if they'd been suffering in the plantations for years, and yet here they were. And if the community had been running for years, then it obviously worked. If only there were a way to warn people before they came to Raster, or to shut down the shed and control the enforcers, then people wouldn't need to run away at all.

  "His temperature is coming down," Jonas said. The back of his hand rested on the prone man's forehead. "If he survives the night then he'll be okay."

  "Thank you," Delia said.

  Jonas stood and sauntered toward the center of the clearing and the fire. "I'm going to enjoy a few more drinks if you don't mind."

  Delia waved for him to go ahead. "The medic will be useful here for the next month. We get lots of injured."

  "You seem to be in charge?" Aart said.

  Delia shrugged. "I could have gone with the last ship but there were no experienced people left. I've got nothing waiting for me on the outside so it didn't matter if I waited another month. Other people had families and loved ones to get to. It was better this way."

  Aart frowned. "But your father is waiting for you."

  "My father?"

  "He's worried about you. He's the whole reason I'm here."

  Delia's gaze moved from the fire to lock with Aart's. "My father is dead."

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  "No," Aart said. "No, I met him. On Snoth. He told me all about you, how you'd come to the plantation, how you'd stopped calling him and had gone missing. Here, he gave me this." Aart buried his hand deep in the pocket of his torn overalls and pulled out the crumpled picture. He held it out to Delia.

  Delia's shoulders tensed and she spun away from Aart. "Breach! We've been breached! Everyone scatter. Meet at the backup campsite in two days! Get out, now!"

  Aart's stomach twisted. What was she doing? And why would she say her father had died?

  The runaways leaped to their feet and hurtled into the trees like a pack of scattered rats. They left overturned bowls and half-made beds in their wake and each ran in a different direction with eyes wide like saucers.

  "What's going on?" Aart said.

  Delia spun on him, nostrils flaring. "How would I have called him?"

  "What?"

  "How would I have called him? Did you see anyone with a communicator? Did the enforcers let you use theirs?"

  "Well… no…"

  "Then how would I have called him?"

  Aart gaped. Of course the question had crossed his mind, but he'd just assumed Delia or someone
had found a way to sneak a communicator into the plantation. That wasn't impossible.

  Delia snatched the photo from Aart and shoved it close to his face. "This was taken in the shed."

  "What?" Aart's stomach sunk. He studied the picture more closely, and for the first time noticed the faint bruise on Delia's temple, and the familiar tin walls behind her. In the bottom right hand corner, he could just see the edge of the rope that marked the fighting ring. "No."

  "Yes." Delia hurled the photo onto the fire and shouldered past Aart to the prone man who'd been bitten by a snake. She hooked her arm underneath him and hauled him upright, face red.

  "I don't understand," Aart said. "What's going on?"

  A strangled scream came from deep in the trees and Delia's face lost all color. "They're here."

  "What? Who's here?"

  Delia's father emerged from the trees. "Maybe I can shed some light on the situation."

  "Jaron," Aart said. "What are you doing here?"

  "Actually, my name is Mackay. And I'm not Delia's father."

  "But—"

  Delia sagged and let the sick man's body slide back to his make-shift bed.

  Aart looked between her and Jaron-Mackay. None of it made sense. If Jaron wasn't Delia's father then what—

  More shouts and scuffles sounded from the trees and then Gin lurched into the clearing and fell to his knees. An enforcer came out behind him and trained a gun on the back of his head.

  "Gin!" Aart said.

  Other runaway workers stumbled into the clearing, followed by enforcers. The enforcers kicked the workers in the backs of their legs so that they fell to their knees before Mackay.

  "Stop that!" Aart said. "Leave them alone."

  Mackay and some of the enforcers chuckled. Blood dribbled down Gin's face from a cut above his temple and one of the other workers sported a broken nose that poured blood down his face onto the ground beneath him.

  "Cute traps you left," Mackay said. "I'm afraid you won't be seeing your scouts again, at least, not alive."

  "You idiot!" Delia rounded on Aart, fists clenched. "You led them right here! You've killed us all."

  Aart's heart pounded. What was she talking about? She'd said they had scouts, that the enforcers never came this far, that they'd had someone erasing their trail. If the enforcers found the camp, it wasn't Aart's fault. But what did that all have to do with the man who'd claimed to be Delia's father?