by Thomas Locke
“Sir, my mother didn’t have anything—”
“Don’t you even start. It won’t do you any good, and it’ll waste my time. And there’s nothing I hate more than a time waster.”
“Sir, please—”
“You keep on, you’re going to get me riled. And you don’t want to see that happen. Does he, Hollis.”
“No sir. That he does not.”
“Hollis here is a specialist at taking care of folks who rile me. It’s a dark and painful aspect of this office, needing the services of a man like him. Are we clear?”
“Yes sir.”
“I’ve got to hand it to you. You and your mother ran a tight ship. We’ve known for some time that an unauthorized conduit for refugees had been at work. Hollis spent far too many hours trying to find the folks in charge. Then a little bird sings in my ear. Not his. Mine. You can’t imagine the joy and the sorrow of learning I could finally crush the railroad, but in so doing I would have to end your and your mother’s lives.”
The words were a hurricane rush in his brain. Entry into the township was officially governed by the mayor’s office, but in reality it was controlled by the militia. Everyone who entered Charlotte Township paid in full. One way or the other.
The mayor drew him back with, “Let’s get down to business. I have a proposition for you. A get-out-of-jail card. Do this one thing, and you and your mother will be free to go about your lives. The slate wiped clean. Are you hearing me, Kevin?”
He heard himself say, “I’ll do anything.”
“Of course you will! I liked the look of you as soon as you walked through those doors. I told myself, this boy’s got the makings of a survivor. And I was right, wasn’t I.”
“Absolutely, sir.”
“Splendid.” He turned his back to the room. “Now tell us everything you know about those folks called specials. Or abominations. Names don’t mean nearly so much as what they represent, far as I’m concerned.”
Kevin jerked in surprise. Of all the possible avenues of escape he could have imagined, this would not have even registered.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hollis shift forward slightly. The crucial matter was now exposed. This was the strategy of a good interrogator. Control the situation by knowing as much as possible going in, never revealing the precise target. He took a shaky breath. Everything depended upon him getting this exactly right. No hesitations, no signals, no responses except those from a man fueled by raw fear.
He replied, “I’ve heard the rumors same as everybody, sir.”
“You’ve never brought one into Charlotte Township?”
“Sir, I couldn’t say for certain they even exist.”
“Oh, they exist, all right. There are too many reports coming in from too many directions for them to be just a myth. Now tell me what you’ve heard.”
“Over the past year or so we’ve received reports about young people with special talents. Some of the claims are ridiculous.”
“Being able to hear people’s thoughts,” the mayor said. “Ridiculous.”
“But some of the others, well . . .”
“Describe them.”
“The ability to heal with one touch, we have heard that one a lot.”
Hollis scoffed. “Refugees desperate for medical care could have come up with that one.”
The mayor glanced over, but all he said was, “Go on, Kevin.”
“The power to tell when someone is speaking the truth.”
“That would make for an especially damaging opponent at the negotiating table. Wouldn’t you agree, Hollis.”
Kevin went on, “The ability to turn just about anything into a weapon through thought alone.”
The mayor tapped the desk with his knuckles. “And that is precisely what interests us here today.”
Hollis demanded, “You actually think some kid out there can blow things up with his mind?”
“We’ll just have to see, won’t we.” The mayor rocked up and down on his polished shoes, his hands locked behind his back. “Kevin, last month you attended the gathering of elders from the smaller enclaves south of Washington—what is it called?”
The mayor kept shocking him, both with his knowledge and his changes of direction. “The annual assembly.”
“Your mother was supposed to go, wasn’t she. But she’s taken ill, so you went as her alternate.”
“How . . .”
“I hold this office by keeping hold of the township’s pulse. Now back to the topic at hand. The matter of these specials came up, didn’t it.”
“Yes sir. It sure did.”
“As a matter of fact, it dominated the entire assembly, especially after it came to light that almost every enclave has confirmed reports of these so-called specials among their numbers. The arguments raged all day and night. I’m given to understand that several august members actually came to blows. Why is that, I wonder.”
Kevin swallowed. “A group of elders believes these young people with their special talents are heralds of the Second Coming.”
Hollis demanded, “The second coming of what?”
The mayor offered his militia officer a patronizing smile. “Never mind Hollis. He might be uneducated in the finer points of religious thought, but he knows all he needs to. Go on.”
“Others talked about how these specials are all the result of illegal experiments. Supposedly the national government started this work just before the Crash.” Kevin wiped at the sweat beading his forehead. “There was some kind of secret facility where they changed the genes of human embryos.”
“They’re not just rumors,” Fleming said. “I know because I’ve had my people in Washington track down the truth. These experiments took place. And now the result is springing up everywhere. Go on, Kevin. Tell us what happened at the vote.”
“The elders split right down the middle. Out of seven hundred votes cast, the opponents won by two.” That was when the fights had broken out. The losers accused the winners of being more interested in holding on to power than in the safety of future generations. Swift to condemn, exclusionary, blind. Those were some of the words Kevin had heard swirling about the halls. He wiped away his perspiration a second time.
The mayor said, “So the assembly has decided to class these specials as a threat. Why do you suppose that is?”
“My mother thinks . . .”
“Go on, Kevin. Tell us what your mother has to say on the matter.”
He saw that the mayor had stopped his heel-to-toe rocking. He knew Fleming was listening intently, even with his back to the room. “The assembly leaders are afraid. They are also resistant to change. They fear the uncertainties these specials represent, especially because their forces are mental. Which means they’re also unseen. My mother says the elders fear these specials could threaten their power structure.”
“Professor Ritter is a wise and perceptive woman. As are you, Deputy. It’s a shame we had to meet under these circumstances.” Fleming spun about on one small, polished shoe. “Her analysis is right on the money. But here’s something your mother doesn’t know. Washington has started rounding up every special they can get their hands on. What happens after that, nobody knows. And a few months back, some of their representatives showed up here. Offering me all sorts of rewards if I’ll let them hunt around Charlotte for members of this new breed.”
The mayor began pacing between the desk and the window. “Now we’ve learned our foe to the south, the mayor of Atlanta Township, has started gathering up specials. That is highly confidential, of course. But we have our spies, or rather, Hollis does. Atlanta’s mayor wants to set up a secret cadre. Gather together a group of these specials, especially a bunch he’s calling forecasters. He wants them to tell him which way to jump.” He reached the edge of the dais and flicked a hand in Kevin’s direction. “I want you to go out there and find me half a dozen specials. We’re going to build ourselves a . . . what was the name we decided on?”
“Task force,” Hollis replied.
“The very thing! A special task force. Washington’s promised to send us their best hunters very soon now. But there’s no telling if they’ll let us keep what they find. So before they get started, I want you to round us up a group. Give us a chance to judge these specials for ourselves.”
“I’ll do my best, sir.”
“You’ll do more than that! Else I’ll have to bring in Hollis. Tell the deputy what will happen then.”
The guards captain replied from the shadows, his voice soft and easy and emotionless. “I’ll bind you and make you watch as I personally string your mother up from a lamppost. The way I do it, she could last hours. Then I’ll end you the same way. The two of you could take all day.”
The mayor beamed down at Kevin. “There, you see? Motivation is the key! Now you get out there and show me some results. You and your mother have got yourselves one week.”
4
Caleb spent the night in a tree.
He was utterly miserable but not physically uncomfortable. Zeke, his friend who had built the hide, kept it stocked with a sack of provisions and a clay water jug that still tasted of the shine it had once contained. When the clear night sky drew down an early summer frost, Caleb wrapped himself in old burlap and stayed warm enough. But his desolation robbed him of sleep. The thought that his own stupid mistake had cost him a final night with his family stabbed him repeatedly. If only he had drawn his father away, warned him in secret . . .
In the first grey light of dawn, Caleb ate several handfuls of dried fruit and nuts and drank his fill. Then he heard a soft whistle from below, and a head appeared in the entry. “I figured you’d be here.”
“Where’s Pa?”
“Trying to calm down the elders.” Zeke was Caleb’s age but a head shorter. Caleb’s best friend possessed a slender, childlike frame and limbs that looked frail as a bird’s. His eyes were dark and furtive, his face narrowed into the point of his long nose. The other children called him Rat Boy.
Zeke’s father had died when a section of the family mine collapsed. His mother had never recovered and gradually faded away, leaving her only son to fend for himself. He’d gone to live with Dorsey, his uncle, but his five cousins didn’t take to this strange little boy invading their already crowded home.
“I know why you did it,” Zeke said. “But why did you have to make so much noise?”
“Maddie contacted me. For one instant. I was still . . .” Caleb hung his head. “I’m such a fool.”
“No argument there.”
“If I could only take back the night.”
Zeke shrugged. “It had to come out sooner or later.”
Around the time Caleb discovered his new ability, Zeke started bringing in game. The entire enclave talked about his growing ability to hunt. Foxes that had been tearing up henhouses became pelts that Marsh took to market. Venison, quail, pheasant, even wild boar showed up regularly in the butcher’s front window. Zeke was never fully accepted, but at least now he was respected. The young man had found a calling. Caleb was the only one who knew how his restless spirit yearned for more.
He and Zeke hunted together, united by secrets they shared with no one else. Caleb’s father had seen the boy’s need and set up a room for him in the stables. Zeke used it from time to time. But by this point the boy had grown half wild. Or so the rest of the enclave thought. Caleb knew better.
Caleb asked, “Are you still coming with me?”
“Don’t talk silly. We been through all this a dozen times. Let it be.”
Caleb fumbled with some way to tell him just how much that meant, but all he could manage was, “I’m glad.”
Zeke handed over the sack he carried. “Marsh said to give you this.”
Inside were a change of clothes, a bar of soap, a razor, a brush, two late winter apples, and a slab of meat in two slices of fresh bread. Caleb’s eyes burned anew from knowing that this was his father’s way of saying he was still loved, and family. “We best be heading out.”
They mostly held to game trails. They stayed close enough to the road to listen for Caleb’s father, then halted by a creek where Caleb washed and shaved. When they reached the meeting point, they slipped into the undergrowth and waited. An hour or so after sunrise Zeke hissed a warning, and a few moments later Caleb heard a wagon wheel squeak.
But as he rose to meet his father, Zeke pulled him back down. Caleb started to swat at Zeke’s grip, when he saw how his friend was crouched. Zeke’s head was canted to one side, his gaze flickering. Caleb knew that look. He settled back down, tense and ready for trouble.
Two wagons came around a distant curve. His father rode in the lead and Dorsey managed the second. Four saddle horses were tethered to the rear gates. Caleb felt his throat swell up tight. He had no idea what he was going to say to his father.
Then an all-too-familiar voice yelled from the trail leading uphill, “There they be!”
Both wagoners jerked in surprise as Harshaw rode into view. Three strangers emerged from the woods behind him. The clansman called, “Where’s your boy, Marsh?”
Caleb’s father demanded, “What business is that of yours?”
“We aim on taking him, is what.”
Dorsey asked, “Who’s this you’re riding with, Harshaw?”
“That ain’t any of your concern. None of this is.”
Dorsey directed his words to the three armed men. “Don’t believe I’ve seen you around these parts before.”
“And I’m saying our business ain’t with you, Dorsey.” Harshaw pointed at Marsh. “It’s with the trader’s outcast breed.”
Marsh cried, “My son is no outcast!”
Dorsey snarled, “You best shut your face if you know what’s good for you. We’re still inside the Catawba boundary. The elders have had their say and that’s the end of it.”
“It’s my word against yours, where we stand!” The man’s dark beard almost hid the glimmer of his teeth. “And I say we’re beyond the enclave’s markers. Which makes it within our rights to take the boy for the ransom on offer.”
Marsh and Dorsey exchanged baffled glances. “What on earth are you going on about now?”
Harshaw used his rifle to jab the air between them. “Atlanta Township’s offering good silver for abominations like your boy. Charlotte too, if the rumors are true.”
Dorsey turned to the three strangers. “What business is this of yours?”
The oldest of the three had an old knife wound across his forehead, like someone had started to scalp him. Another odd streak of white ran down the center of his beard. “We come after the boy, like he said.”
Marsh’s voice had grown hoarse with unaccustomed rage. “You’re not touching my son.”
“We got to go through you, we will.” Harshaw leaned over and spit a stream of brown juice into the dust. “Any who get in our way’s gonna hang from that oak—”
Harshaw’s words were cut off as Zeke leapt straight from the forest to the back of Harshaw’s horse.
Zeke moved so fast and silently that he was in place before the men could react. He set a knife to Harshaw’s neck and said, “I’m thinking you need yourself a shave.”
“Boy, you looking to get yourself killed?”
“I was about to ask you the very same thing.” Zeke gripped Harshaw’s collar with one hand and kept the knife’s blade tight on his neck. “Careful, now. Else you’ll want to cause these men to dig you a grave.”
When one of the strangers started to draw his gun, Caleb shouted from the undergrowth, “You keep your hands where I can see them.”
Marsh yelled, “Caleb? You all right, Son?”
“Sure thing, Pa. I got them covered.”
Harshaw snarled at Zeke, “You poke me with that thing, it’ll be two graves they’ll be digging!”
“Maybe so. But what difference does that make? You been saying for years I’m not worth the air I breathe. Now drop your gun and tell your men to do the same.”
The three strange
rs might have argued, except for the fact that Dorsey and Marsh now had their own weapons out and aimed. Harshaw warned, “You done writ your death sentence, boy.”
Zeke poked the blade in deep enough to draw blood. “Tell them. Or die. It’s your call.”
The man with the white-streaked beard said, “Nobody gets nothing from a shoot-out.”
Harshaw cursed and flung his rifle to the crumbling asphalt. “Do what he says!”
“Pistols too,” Zeke said. Only when the last gun fell to the earth did he slip off the horse’s back. “Nice doing business with you.”
Dorsey stood on the wagon seat, his gun steady on the disarmed men. “I believe it’s time you headed on back to wherever you came from.”
“The elders are gonna be hearing about this!” Harshaw sawed at the reins so hard his horse reared. He yelled at Zeke, “Catawba enclave ain’t your home no more. Don’t you ever come back.”
“Ain’t you heard? I haven’t had me a home for years.”
They waited in silence until the four men disappeared around the first bend. Then Caleb scrambled from the undergrowth. Soon as he appeared, Marsh dropped the reins and leapt to the earth. He rushed over and gripped his son in an embrace so fierce Caleb felt new tears squeezed from his eyes. “Oh, Pa, I’m sorry.”
“You’re all right. That’s the most important thing.”
Dorsey’s wagon seat creaked as he stared down the empty road. “Harshaw’s spent the best part of his life searching for the bullet writ with his name.” He climbed down and walked over to Zeke. “Son, how’d you ever learn to move like that?”
Zeke was shaking slightly now from the aftermath of combat. “Just picked it up somewhere, I guess.”
“Well, you did good.” Dorsey studied his nephew. “Harshaw was right. Best you not come back, not for a good long spell.”
Zeke shrugged. “I ain’t got a whole lot to come back to.”
Dorsey offered his hand. “You ever need anything, you holler. I’ll do what I can to see you right.”
5
Marsh thanked Dorsey for his help and sent him on his way. When the horse’s footfalls faded into the distance, Marsh pulled out his grandfather’s pocket watch, checked the time, and said, “We best be off. The deputies don’t like to be kept waiting.”
