Melt (Book 8): Hold

by Pike, JJ

  Alice’s heart rate increased. She hoped she wasn’t flushed, but she couldn’t be sure. “Yes?”

  “Which child are you worried about?” Christine had her head down and she was talking very quietly.

  Alice looked to her left and right. No one else was in earshot. Could she say it out loud?

  “It wouldn’t take a genius to work it out. You and Bill were both in Manhattan for some days. You’re both uninfected. You’ve asked me whether there’s possible ‘resistance’ to MELT several times. You know I don’t have a laboratory and yet you press the point. I must conclude, therefore, that the question is personal in nature. If you and your husband are both resistant your children would be to, unless they don’t share the same parents.”

  Alice wanted Christine to stop talking.

  “As you’re the mother we can be certain we know the maternal line. It’s only when we come to fathers that we have to ask ourselves these questions.”

  Alice had held this secret for so long she had no clue how to talk about it; not even to Christine Baxter who wouldn’t judge her for a single night of jealousy and stupidity nineteen years ago.

  “Here’s my advice. Watch your children carefully. I don’t need to state the obvious for you—you’re good at reading between the lines and making inferences—but as I prefer to have all the facts on the table, I’m going to do so.”

  Alice cringed inside.

  “If you and, for that matter, I have some inbred immunity to MELT, we have a distinct advantage. We’ve made it this far. We may ride this catastrophe out. Who knows? The nuclear isotopes might change that. As I said, we’re in what is known as ‘uncharted territory’ there. But if I were you, and I understand I am not, I would make sure that the child who is not related to Bill Everlee is outside the contamination zone and remain out of the reach of MELT at all times.”

  Alice didn’t try to hide her tears. No one who saw her could guess why she was crying. They all had a million reasons to lose it.

  “Was that what you wanted to know?” Christine was trying to be kind, but hearing her own worst fears reflected back to her made Alice want to curl up in a ball and die right there and then.

  “Fine. Well. I’ve said my piece. Let’s see how this friend of yours is doing.” Christine strode towards the porch.

  “Give me a minute,” said Alice. “I don’t want to upset her. I just need to get it together.”

  “Take your time. I’ll meet you there.”

  As soon as Christine mounted the back porch, Michael Rayton was at her side. “What did she say? Will she talk to me?” He was like an annoying bug. He buzzed and bothered and would not let her be.

  “Make yourself useful.” Alice turned her face away from him and wiped her face on her sleeve. “Help the soldiers set up their communications unit. Get the guest room ready for Angelina. Dig a hole so we can bury Fran. Just stop talking to me about something that is so completely out of my control.”

  Michael’s face fell. “I’m trying to do my job. We all messed up, Alice, but I’m the only one who’s not allowed to be useful.”

  “For once, can someone other than me be responsible for preventing the worst from happening?”

  She stormed towards Betsy and Christine, more confused and fearful than she had been in days. She had done nothing to make sure the twins were safe. What kind of mother was she? The worst. She was the worst mother in the world.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  “Are they dead? The soldiers, are they dead?” Alistair’s brain had, as the meme so aptly illustrated, fifty tabs open, a frozen screen, and music that came from nowhere.

  “Yes.” Jacinta didn’t offer any more of an explanation. Why would she? She’d taken care of the problem. She’d also just delivered the bombshell to end all bombshells. The new facts in play overshadowed a birch copse littered with dead soldiers. Josephine Effing Bleeping Effing Morgan was an agent with the Federal Bureau of Investigation.

  That changed everything.

  There was no way she could be allowed to leave now.

  There was no saying what she’d do once she was out there. The government had absconded, but what of the FBI? Did they still exist? Did it matter?

  No.

  What mattered, and the problem he needed to apply his unfried brain cells to, was Josephine Morgan.

  Any sensible person would have run, but she was more complicated than your average person. She was an FBI agent posing as a grade school teacher. He’d allowed her inside Wolfjaw all this time and she’d been spying on them, that double-crossing, blackhearted, soul-destroying traitor.

  Josephine Morgan might not head west. She might stick around. Find colleagues. Armed colleagues. She might bring them to Wolfjaw and try to arrest them.

  No.

  That didn’t jibe. She’d been coming here for years and they’d never had so much as a traffic warden come their way.

  His blood came down a degree, his eyesight clearing, and the pounding in his ears easing. Josephine Morgan might be an agent, but she’d never brought trouble to his door.

  Why?

  What was her game?

  What had she been doing here all this time?

  How had she duped him?

  It was deeply, deeply shaming. So deep he almost wished his daddy had never pulled him out of that well. He deserved the overpowering darkness and punishment without end.

  Josephine Morgan had made a fool of him.

  “Convene the council,” he said.

  Jacinta didn’t move.

  “Now.”

  “Who will interview the inductees?” she whispered.

  There was still a crowd, watching and waiting. She was right to whisper.

  Alistair had a set of questions that he ran through after the battery of tests had been completed, but before anyone was officially declared a Ridger. It was important to him that he be the one asking the questions because they were, in a sense, pledging allegiance to him as well as the ideals of Wolfjaw Ridge. Without strong leadership and a place to focus their attention, people could so easily go off script.

  “I will,” he said. “Bring the Council to me and I’ll discharge both duties.”

  “Here?” said Jacinta. “Now?”

  Alistair nodded.

  A murmur ran through the crowd. The council never met in public. Their deliberations were behind closed doors.

  Alistair was breaking protocol, but it was necessary. Josephine would be tried by a community of her peers and the new recruits would see, firsthand, how real justice operated.

  It would serve a double purpose.

  With the hurricane headed their way the recruits didn’t have days to complete their tests which meant he wasn’t going to be able to break and remake them in the usual way. He was the light, the hope, the relief at the end of every test. He called time, ended their anguish, doled out rewards, made sure their cuts and bruises were seen to. Alistair was, in a small way, their savior. If he wasn’t able to demonstrate all that, these new recruits weren’t going to seek him out, trust him, look to him for answers in the normal way Ridgers did. However, if he played his cards right, the public trial of Josephine Morgan would allow them to see how evenhanded he was. It wasn’t anywhere near as effective as the trial-by-ice-and-fire induction process, but time was short and he had to make do.

  And bring his felonious trickster to heel.

  Jacinta had sent runners hither, thither, and yon to find the council members. It helped calm Alistair.

  He forced himself to think about something other than Josephine. It was the only way he was going to be able to maintain his composure. He had to keep it together for at least another half hour. Maybe less. Depending on which way the Council swayed.

  Note to self: I am more than my failures. She was a trained operative. She came here under false pretenses. I am more than my failures. I can right this wrong. I can make her pay. I can think about something other than her. Her. She. The one who could have brought Wolfridge
to its knees. Something else. Other. Different. Not her. Not my greatest failure.

  Think about Jacinta. She’d never done him wrong. And here she was, making things work as they should. The Council would be convened and all would be well. Already Ridgers were drawing closer, alert to the fact that a change was in the air.

  It was pleasing to have the ordinary bustle of everyday life for a moment longer. They’d run tests, living underground for days at a time, but that didn’t capture what lay ahead. They were going to be below ground for years. The sun on his face, the sweet smell of rain in the late-summer fields, the stars glittering at night were all going to be things of memory, not fact. This might be the last time his people could run above ground. It was certainly the last time they’d try a villainous stranger for crimes against Wolfjaw. Let them enjoy the end of this way of life. As these thoughts came together he realized it was his duty, as their leader, to give them a day to remember.

  “We have six members, yourself included, Alistair. We have a quorum.” Jacinta had run inside and retrieved the gavel and sound block from the council chamber. She was ready to call order.

  He held up his hand to stay the striking of mallet on wood.

  He scanned the crowd. The council members were as confused as Jacinta had been. No matter. They’d understand once he explained. This public trial would kill two birds with one stone. Everyone would know what Josephine Morgan was and he wouldn’t be solely responsible for her fate.

  Whatever that might be.

  Richard Klegg hadn’t joined them. Richard was the oldest Ridger in residence. With age came gravitas. People listened to him. If there was any wavering, Richard was the man to shift the tide in Alistair’s favor.

  “What’s going on?” said Josephine.

  “Restrain her.”

  Two Ridgers stepped forward and pinned Josephine’s arms.

  “Josephine Morgan you are to stand trial for crimes against the community.”

  “What crimes?” She had the nerve to sound indignant. “I haven’t committed any crimes.”

  He couldn’t drop the biggest truth bomb just yet. He wanted that held in reserve. Richard would join them eventually. He was slower—creaky in the joints, he called it—and took his time getting places.

  “If anyone here present has a grievance against this woman, step forward and say your part.”

  Olive Granger stepped forward as soon as the invitation was out of Alistair’s mouth. “She has been tutoring my Jamie.”

  “Go on.” Alistair already knew where she was going. Jamie wasn’t a fast learner. Olive was going to complain about his grades. And why ever not? No one else in Wolfjaw handed out grades. You were either a great teacher and taught your charges what they needed to learn or you were failing. If Jamie didn’t make the grade it was Josephine’s fault, not his.

  “Every time she comes to my house, I put out a plate of cheese and biscuits.”

  Alistair nodded. He was pleasantly surprised. This was going to be a far juicier grievance than the one he’d been expecting.

  “She helps herself but doesn’t lift a finger.”

  “Expatiate.”

  “There’s all kinds of ways you can even the scales,” said Olive. “The goat needs to be milked, the milk heated, the curd strained. It’s real work, making cheese.”

  The crowd nodded. Alistair saw a couple of hands go up. Olive had hit a nerve.

  “She comes to my house, too,” said Timothy Long. “And we feed her every time. She’s never even asked how we come to have figs. My boys were part of the MagPie raids. We’re proud of our haul. We shared those in good faith, but she’s never done anything but come here and talk. She’s a taker, not a giver.”

  Sweet. Alistair had never imagined there’d been so much bad feeling towards Josephine. He’d thought of her as a gentle reminder of the world they’d left behind, but all the while they’d been harboring resentment against her. She was everything a Ridger wasn’t: idle, entitled, and full of her own importance.

  He pointed at Jess Yardley.

  “She asks questions.”

  Perfection. There was a lot of nodding. Several side conversations started up.

  Alistair held up both hands, head down, and waited for silence. “Before we move on from the crime of shirking, let me take a moment to explain what’s happening to our newest members.” He turned to the soldiers. They might be thinking these complaints were something about nothing, but once he’d outlined the Wolfjaw philosophy for them they’d understand that these were serious complaints that had been brought against Josephine. “You have questions, I am sure.”

  The pimply kid’s hand shot up. “You told us already. Down by the convoy. Everyone works for what they get. There are no freeloaders here. You earn your food. She didn’t earn hers.”

  “Correct.” Was that enough? Were any of the other recruits as eager as crater face? Alistair wasn’t reading agreement in their eyes. Confusion, perhaps, or incredulity. That wouldn’t carry them forward. He had to make true believers of them. “Your friend here is correct. There’s nothing free in Wolfjaw. We honor the work you do by matching that work with work.” He waited. “Do you grasp my meaning?”

  “Like a barter system?” It was one of the young women. She was stocky, but not entirely unpleasing to the eye.

  “Yes. Like a barter system, but with mutually agreed upon values. We are an egalitarian society where every member is treated with respect. The sewer worker is no less important than the roofer. The lawyer no more senior than the farmer. Each brings a skill or learns a trade and together we decide what each task is worth.”

  “Am I allowed to speak?” said Josephine.

  “You may.” Alistair faced her and met her stare. She was livid. It made him glad. Let her stew in her own rank filth. She deserved that and more.

  “I came here to teach. Isn’t that a skill? Wasn’t I offering my services in exchange for cheese and figs? Which…” She sought Olive out from the crowd. “Which was delicious, by the way. I told you at the time. I’d never tasted anything as fresh and flavorful. The addition of herbs and honey was a piece of culinary magic.”

  Olive didn’t smile back at the grade school teacher who’d given her Timmy a D-minus on his last math test.

  Josephine’s fate was virtually sealed. There were three more steps they had to pass through before Alistair shared his testimony. He pointed at Jess again. “You were saying, Jess, that she asks questions. Would you care to expand?”

  “She pokes and presses.” Jess used her finger to demonstrate, jabbing at the air. “The way she talks is like she’s trying to get you to say something bad about Wolfjaw.”

  Sounds of derision moved through the crowd like a wave in a football stadium. Alistair nodded his approval.

  Way in the back, Richard Klegg had arrived. They could hurry things along now.

  “Can you remember a particular question, Jess?”

  “Are you happy here?”

  The crowd erupted, grumbling and swearing and comparing notes.

  Alistair stole a look at the recruits. They didn’t get it. Not even pimple face. Alistair took a step closer to them. “The reason this matters goes to the heart of the Wolfjaw experience. We take an oath, one I am going to invite you to take when you pass your final test. You will pledge yourselves to the pursuit of happiness.”

  “But…” The young woman raised her hand. “Don’t we already have that right? Isn’t ‘the pursuit of happiness’ part of the Declaration of Independence?”

  “It is,” said Alistair. “But what has anyone done about it?” He waited; a tactic he’d employed often to good effect. He wanted them to think. He could feel the Ridgers leaning forward, eager to answer the question. They’d each made a solemn vow to actively seek their greatest happiness without infringing on the happiness of others. It was the bedrock on which everything else had been built. Man was made to work, to feel his efforts pay off, to see the fruits of his labor. Depression, anxiety,
hyperactivity, all those modern mental afflictions might be helped with pharmaceuticals—and he didn’t doubt that a small portion of the population had an organic imbalance that required medication—but for the most part modern depression was about man’s disconnection with the world and his place in it. He’d built a community where people reconnected with their sense of purpose and were rewarded for it. The upshot was a massive, measurable increase in their baseline happiness. What they did with it thereafter was their own affair. That Josephine had questioned it was a kind of heresy.

  They’d had long enough to think. He needed to move the trial along to the next phase. “We take your happiness seriously. We’re dedicated to allowing you the freedom and responsibility to do as you please.”

  ‘But…” The young woman still had her hand up. “Why was it wrong for her to ask that question? I don’t get it.”

  “You will,” said Alistair. “In time. You’ll understand that we don’t question one another’s motives. We trust. Trust is at the heart of our work here. We believe in the intrinsic goodness of mankind and foster that goodness. Questioning your neighbor’s state of mind is an invasion. Who are you to doubt their commitment to their path?”

  Herb stepped into the arena, fussing with his tie, the sweat stains under his armpits so large they were visible to the casual observer. How utterly like him.

  “Herb?”

  “Can we infer malicious intent from this one question?”

  He was going to try to lawyer her out of this. No dice. Alistair had taken the crowd’s temperature and they were eager for retribution. She wasn’t going to weasel out of this unscathed. They didn’t even know, yet, how deep her weaseling had gone. When he dropped that on them there’d be no going back.

  “Let’s ask Jess, shall we?” Alistair swiveled so he could see Jess and Josephine at the same time. “Jess. What else did Josephine say? She made you uncomfortable, I understand that, but Herb is suggesting she didn’t mean to do so. Did she say more?”

  Jess nodded. “She asked why the women weren’t allowed on raids.”