by Nancy Isaak
Seeing his terror, I wondered what it was that Shawnee saw in the kid. She was so strong and brave and he was…well, kind of a wimp. If I hadn’t needed Wyatt’s expertise, there would be no way that he would have been part of the team.
“Well, this sucks!” Wyatt moaned. “I mean, this really, really sucks!”
“Tell me about it,” murmured Erroll.
I immediately frowned at him, giving my head a little warning-shake.
He held up his hands. “I’m good.”
“Well, I’m not,” Florenza announced, pushing herself up and out of her chair.
“But we need you,” I said quickly. “I need you, Florenza!”
She waved a hand toward me. “Yeah, yeah…whatever you’re planning, I’m in, Kaylee. But right now…I’ve gotta’ pee…like so bad!” And she waddled hurriedly out the door.
As she did, Erroll turned and glared at me, as if to say…this is your team?!
* * * *
When Florenza had finally returned and Wyatt had regained his composure, we continued on with our planning session.
“First rule,” I told them. “Nobody knows about us. Only the people in this room are on this team—only we know what is happening up in the Valley, only we know what we are planning. And it has to stay that way. No exceptions—not for friends, not for family.”
“What if we don’t want to be on the team?” asked Wyatt. “Like you didn’t even ask us if we wanted to be part of it, Kaylee. You just told us to come here. If we don’t want to be part of the team and we promise not to tell, can we just go home?”
I stared at Wyatt for a long moment—disappointed. He tried to keep my gaze but, within seconds, he had to look away.
“It’s just,” Wyatt shrugged, embarrassed, “like I’m not a fighter, right.”
“She ain’t asking you to fight,” said Florenza. “Erroll’s the one gonna’ do the dirty work.”
“Yeah, but still,” continued Wyatt, “what if I don’t want to do it? Like what happens then?”
Everyone turned to look at me—waiting.
I took a deep breath, calming my nerves.
“You don’t have a choice,” I finally announced. Then, slowly, I looked at each surprised face in turn, making certain that I was being understood. “None of you do. Because this isn’t a democracy anymore. We are at war, which means that I make the decisions now. And I have decided that all of us will do our part.” I turned back to Wyatt, pointing a finger at him. “All of us. So, you ask if you have a choice, Wyatt. Only this—if you are part of this tribe, you follow my orders. If you aren’t, let me know now and I’ll have Erroll escort you from this room, so you can grab your things. He’ll take you as far as Encinal Canyon. After that, you’ll be on your own.”
Wyatt looked horrified. “You can’t do that!”
“She’s the boss,” yawned Florenza, actually looking bored. “She can sell you to the Crazies if she wants. So, you’re lucky that chief is only asking for your balls to drop a little and not something real important.”
Nate chuckled at his end of the table. Even Erroll smiled—a little.
I felt bad for Wyatt; angry tears threatened to fall from his eyes, and he rubbed at them furiously.
“Look,” I told him, trying to sound reasonable. “You won’t have to fight—unless we’re attacked, of course. And you’re not going up into the Valley—just a little ways.”
“You promise?” he said, in a small voice.
I shook my head. “Sorry, Wyatt. The most I can promise is that those are my intentions right now. What happens on the road might change them, I won’t lie.”
He sniffled a bit, wiping at his nose.
We all waited, none of us feeling all that sympathetic. In a world where we had all fought and killed to protect our tribe, it was difficult to be patient with someone as wussy as Wyatt.
Once again, I had to remind myself—we needed him.
* * * *
With one final sniff, Wyatt rubbed his arm across his face, then sat up straight and nodded to me. “Rock and roll,” he said, trying to sound confident—and almost succeeding.
“And clang, clang,” grinned Florenza. “They just dropped!
Even Wyatt smiled this time. “Sorry, guys,” he said, looking around at us, embarrassed. “Lover, not a fighter, right?”
“Well, that explains Shawnee,” teased Nate, nudging him. “Good on you, Wyatt!”
For the first time since we’d arrived, Wyatt looked proud; he puffed up, giving one of those guy-nods to Nate—the type that said…yeah, I know how to rock it.
“Can we get back to business now?” I asked. Everyone straightened up, their faces turning serious again. “Okay—first rule?”
“We shut our pie-holes,” Florenza offered.
I nodded. “No one here says anything—to anyone. The less people who know our plans, the less likely there will be a leak.”
“You think we still might have Crazy spies on the Point?” asked Nate.
“Honestly—I don’t know. But it just makes sense to act like we do…just in case. So, if we don’t talk about our plans—if there is a spy—they won’t be able to alert the Crazies that we’re coming.”
“No worries here,” shrugged Florenza. “Girl has to have her secrets, right?”
Beside her, Nate nodded. “Only ones I’d really tell about it would be Xav and San, and I’m not gonna’ do that because they might follow us up into the Valley. It’d be just the kind of stupid knucklehead move they’d do.”
“Which is why I’m not telling Jacob, by the way,” I admitted. “Not that he’s a knucklehead,” I added, quickly. “But he would follow us—and try and go into the Arena himself.”
Florenza gave a little moan, poking at her belly, trying to find a more comfortable position for the baby. “Pauly told me lots about that Brandon-dude. Like he’s completely psycho. Would Jacob even have a chance against him?”
I shook my head. “Brandon would kill him. I mean, Jacob would probably get a few good shots in. But in the end…he’d still be dead.”
Everyone turned and looked at Erroll at that point. He was sitting back in his chair, his arms crossed—just listening.
“You really up for this, man?” Nate asked him, concerned.
With a sniff and a shrug, Erroll replied casually. “You heard the boss. It’s not like any of us really have a choice, right.”
That set me to fuming a little. I knew that Erroll was upset with me because of how I was planning to manage the team, but this wounded attitude of his was really starting to grate.
Instead of giving him a piece of my mind, however, I turned to Nate. “I’m sorry…I know that going up into the Valley is the last thing you wanted to do. I know that you don’t want to leave your brother and Sandeep. It’s just with Josh…gone…you’re the best person we have to get us in and out safely.”
He nodded slowly. “I can deal with it—because I know that you’re right. If going up into the Valley means keeping the Point safe for Xav and Sandeep and everyone else, I’ll do it.”
Florenza leaned forward in her chair, rubbing at the base of her back. “Chief, I got a hell spawn ‘bout to do an “Alien” out of my amazing bod. You seriously want me humping through those hills with you guys?”
“You’ll stay here,” I told her. “But I have something very important for you to do. So, pay attention…and that means everybody.”
And as my team leaned back in their chairs, listening—I told them my plan.
Almost all of it—but not quite.
Emotions crisscrossed their faces as I spoke—curiosity, horror, and finally—understanding.
* * * *
“That’s like…so insane…or inspired.”
It was Wyatt who had spoken. The rest of them were simply sitting there, trying to process what I had just told them.
“We have to understand who we’re dealing with,” I explained. “Who we need to defeat. If it was just Brandon, it would defini
tely be a physical thing in the Arena. But with the Foxes behind him, we’re now dealing with something stronger, more evil, more manipulative. Which means that our plan has to be even more inventive—because it has to be both smart and physical to succeed. This isn’t a battle of brains or a battle of brawns anymore; this is a battle of brains and a battle of brawns. And if we come together—just us—I think we have as good a chance as any of defeating Brandon and the Foxes and taking control of that Crazy tribe—of this whole area.”
“How will you explain to the rest of the Locals why we’re leaving?” asked Nate.
“The story will be that we’re the next expedition team. They’ll think that we’re heading north to look for meds, corn seeds, stuff that Florenza will need for her baby—things like that.”
“You think the rest of the Council will fall for that? You think Jacob will?”
“I think if we all keep to the same story, they’ll have no choice.”
“And I’m only going part way?” Wyatt asked, needing assurance.
“As far as the winery,” I told him. “Then, you’re on your way back. Nate, Erroll, and I will continue up into the Valley. To do that, Wyatt, you need to set us up with tattoos good enough to get us past the roadblocks.”
“Even you?” Wyatt asked.
“Even me…I’ll be hidden under the stupid sheet but, if anyone checks, I’ll still need that tattoo to get by.”
“So, if you’re gonna’ be my slave…” mused Nate, tapping his finger on his chin.
I shook my own finger back at him. “Don’t even go there!”
Everyone laughed at my discomfort; it helped to dissipate the tension in the room—at least for a few moments.
Then, I started talking again. “The Stars will get us to the high school and into the Arena. After that, it will be up to Erroll and me to get Brandon to accept the challenge.”
“You think he will?” asked Florenza.
“Without a doubt,” I said. “Brandon’s ego is so massive, he won’t be able to resist once he realizes it’s us challenging him. And once he goes down—according to his own rules—the tribe is ours. Which means no more fighting, no more war, no one else dies.”
“If you win,” murmured Wyatt.
Florenza’s hand immediately lashed out and whacked him across the back of his head. “Clang, clang, little man,” she chided.
“What’s Florenza’s job in all this?” asked Nate. “I mean, since she’s not going up into the Valley.”
“Beating Brandon in the Arena won’t be easy,” I said, looking directly at Florenza. “The kid’s a beast and he has a brown belt in karate.”
“Ooo boy!” giggled Florenza—getting it. “You want me to teach you guys the bad stuff, right?”
“Like you said, chica,” I grinned. “You got mad skills.”
Florenza tapped her chest twice with her fingers in what I suspected was the symbol of her old gang. “Yeah, I got stuff to show you, Erroll. We gonna’ slice that dude Brandon up something good.”
“Not just Erroll,” I told her. “I want you to teach me and Nate, too. We’ll all be traveling up the canyon together, so I want us all to know. Any moves you can give us—anything that can keep us alive, okay?”
Chuckling, rubbing her hands together with glee, Florenza looked from me to Erroll and, finally, to Nate. “Oh, mami…this is gonna’ be fun!”
* * * *
Over the next week our small group rushed to get everything we needed to do accomplished. Florenza trained us nightly—for a couple of hours after supper, teaching us horrible ways to kill and maim. I was utterly horrified by the deadly knowledge she carried in her head—yet, thankful for it at the same time.
Like Florenza told me one night, as she waddled tiredly out of our training room, “Most people get in fights, they expect things explained, right…like why the guy you’re fighting is all angry, what he got upset at you for. But my girls fought someone, they never cared what the reason was—they just jumped in and cut fast and hard. Because, who really cares why, mami. Your goal is simply to win.”
As the training went on and I hit and kicked and slashed, Florenza’s words became my mantra; I whispered them again and again under my breath.
“My goal is simply to win.”
* * * *
Because of the size of my tattoo, it needed to be started before my team left for the Valley. Wyatt met up with me in the multi-windowed conservatory that was attached to the mansion where Florenza was leading the fight training. Erroll and I had just carried down a single bed from the main house and was placing it next to the sun-side of the windows, when Wyatt walked in, carrying a large box.
“Are those your supplies?” I asked.
He nodded. “That’s smart, putting the bed next to the window. It will help to catch the light.”
“Will it be enough or do you need extra? Should we maybe do this outside?”
Wyatt was already on his knees, unpacking—pulling out bottles of ink, needles, and a small hammer. “Light is good, thanks.” He looked around. “Where’s that tattoo drawing the Stars gave you?”
I walked over to my backpack and started rummaging inside a pocket. “The design won’t be complete until the number gets tattooed in the middle. And it’s bigger than the ones you did on Nate and Erroll.”
“Yeah, I know,” he said, a little irritated. “Like you haven’t told me that a thousand times.”
My hand finally latched onto the rolled-up tattoo. I pulled it out of my backpack and handed it to Wyatt, watching carefully as he unrolled it.
“What the hell?” he muttered.
“What’s wrong?” I said, trying to sound innocent.
“Like seriously!” Wyatt grunted in disgust. “Like you really think I wouldn’t know Cherry’s work?!”
Then, he went silent—his eyes losing focus—deep in thought. After a few moments of just standing there, thinking—his eyes seemed to focus again, his attention turning to me. “Does Shawnee know?”
Dammit!
I shook my head. “And you can’t tell her! I’m serious, Wyatt—you can’t mention to anyone, not Shawnee, not Wester…that Cherry is still alive.”
“She’s working with the Stars,” sniffed Wyatt. “I’m right, aren’t I?”
“And if you tell anyone, and Brandon or the Foxes find out, she’ll be killed—or worse.”
Wyatt grinned. “That’s so frigging Cherry!”
“But you won’t tell Shawnee!”
He shook his head. “Of course not. If Shawnee knew, she’d want to be part of the team. Sorry if it’s selfish—but I just don’t want that.” Wyatt placed Cherry’s drawing on a nearby table, leaning over to study it. “This isn’t some small tramp-stamp, Kaylee. Like it’s gonna’ take time and hurt like a mofo. You understand that, right?”
I sighed.
* * * *
As I’d written once before—even though I had thought it to be necessary at the time, I now felt truly horrible about tattooing the Crazies who had joined our tribe after the battle for the Point.
Lying on my stomach in the conservatory that day—with Wyatt poised over my bare back—I remembered thinking about the possible existence of karma. Because, with each slap of the bundled needles penetrating my skin, it certainly felt like I was being punished for my former sins.
I knew that some people actually fell asleep while being tattooed—they found it so relaxing.
Not so much for me.
I felt every slap, every prick of that fracking needle.
And Wyatt hadn’t been lying…it did hurt like a mofo!
* * * *
It took three days for Wyatt to finish my tattoo.
When he was finally done, I stood with my exposed back in front of a large mirror. Wyatt stood beside me, holding a smaller mirror, moving it carefully, so I could better see his creation.
“Wow…you did an amazing job, Wyatt. Really.”
He shrugged. “It was Cherry’s design. Well, at l
east the second part of it was. And don’t forget—you still have to get the number tattooed into the center of it.”
I laughed. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure that I’m not going to forget that.”
Wyatt blushed a little. “Guess not.” He reached out with one finger and probed at an edge of the tattoo, causing my skin to ripple under his touch.
“Sorry,” he said, pulling his hand back. “Tattoo still hurt?”
“Mostly it’s just a little itchy,” I admitted.
It was also beautiful.
In the center of my back was a circle of flames surrounding an unmarked piece of skin—where my slave number would eventually be tattooed. Outside of that circle was grouped a series of three rings, each filled with increasingly intricate markings, similar to Maori tribal tattoos.
But it was what flared out of the last of the rings that was so extraordinary—a pair of angel’s wings, spreading to encompass my entire back—the tips of the long flight-feathers spanning my shoulders to arc around the top of my arms.
Truly—it was a work of art.
But it still hurt like a mofo.
* * * *
The last few days before our small team was to head up into the Valley, I made sure to say good-bye to everyone I loved—without actually saying good-bye.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t unreasonable to think that Nate, Erroll, and I would not be returning from Agoura Hills—that our trip would become a one-way journey to our own deaths. If something bad really did happen and my plan didn’t work—this was my last chance to let everyone know how much they meant to me, how much I cared.
So, I tried to find a subtle way to give each person a special hug, a kind word; something that—if I didn’t come back—they would remember.
With Florenza, of course—I didn’t have to pretend.
Of the whole tribe, she was the only one who knew where we were truly heading—that we weren’t actually on a scavenging expedition. So, it was no surprise when she showed up at my door two nights before our departure, wanting to see my angel wings.