by Alice Sabo
“Not sure, yet. Watch stopped them on the road. Told Martin to get ready.”
“For what?”
Angus shrugged. “Now you know as much as I do. I won’t be able to get down there fast enough. Will you go and help Martin deal with this?”
“Of course,” she said although she wanted to scream at him that she wasn’t ready for this.
Martin handed Angus a spare radio before leaving. Tilly trailed after him, not having the strength to keep up with his long-legged stride. She thought she’d been prepared for refugees, but they were not what she’d envisioned. High Meadow was prepared to take on twice its population, but she hadn’t thought about how that would feel to have so many strangers in her home.
When she got to the entrance, she was relieved to find that there were just five outsiders with Sam, one of the Watch they’d sent over to Creamery. All of them looked to be in good condition, three men, a boy in early teens and a nervous middle-aged woman. That was another relief for Tilly because more strong hands were always needed.
Martin turned from where he was speaking to Sam, to beckon Tilly over. “Too many refugees at Creamery. They sent this lot over, but there will be more.”
“Oh.” Tilly turned a congenial smile on the strangers. “Everyone is welcome.” She glanced back to Martin, who gave her a nod of assent. “Come into the cafeteria. Are you hungry?”
The boy grinned. “I’m always hungry.”
“Come on then. I’ll see what we have. We served dinner, and we’re working on breakfast already.”
The woman scurried up to Tilly. “Working on breakfast?” Her brown eyes were bright with curiosity.
“The kitchen crew prepares all the meals,” Tilly explained.
“Meals?” The woman’s voice trembled. “You have real food here?”
Tilly put an arm around the woman’s broad shoulders. “We have some. Come and see.” The invitation eased some of her nervousness.
The men followed in a silent huddle as Tilly led them into the cafeteria. Learning her lesson with the first refugees, she had set up an orientation table just inside the room. It had all of her paperwork for assigning rooms and chores, a map of the building and the times for meals. Angus had made his slow way down the hall and was waiting for them.
“Please have a seat.”’ Tilly directed them to the table. In short order, she had their names and skills—a cook, two mechanics, a thin man who mumbled something about tailoring and the teenager, Lou, who said he’d try his hand at anything.
“Welcome to you all,” Angus announced. “Skilled hands are good, and willing hands are even better. Claude, you are a tailor?”
The thin man twitched a slight nod, his eyes on the table.
“Excellent,” Angus said.
Claude raised worried eyes. “Why?”
“Our population is increasing and very few of them bring clothes,” Tilly said. “We have been foraging clothes from the area, but it never seems to match what we need. Just the other day, someone brought us twenty pairs of black corduroy pants, all a women’s size eight.” Tilly shook her head. “Not to mention all the children that have arrived and will surely outgrow their clothes by the end of the season.”
Claude’s eyes widened. “You want me to...”
“Join our seamstresses,” Tilly said with an encouraging look.
“You have...” Claude stared at them, mouth open, unable to complete the sentence.
“We have a couple of women and a roomful of sewing machines dealing with a pile of clothes that doesn’t fit anyone. Can you help?” Tilly asked.
Claude sat straighter, squared his shoulders. “I’d be delighted.”
“And I’m sure Tilly will need Eunice to dig in right away?” Angus asked.
The sole woman had been staring at the far end of the cafeteria where she could glimpse the kitchen behind the pass-through. She looked back at Angus, tears in her eyes. “I was a chef,” she murmured.
“Well, we don’t do anything fancy,” Tilly said. “Just solid hearty fare.”
“No train food?” Eunice asked in a faint voice.
“Only in emergencies,” Tilly said. “We are trying to be as self-sufficient as possible.”
One of the kitchen crew, Sara, brought a cart to the table. Tilly gave her an approving nod as she handed out bowls of broth and the leftover biscuits from breakfast. Since the flu had hit, they’d kept a big pot of broth simmering on the stove for any emergencies. There weren’t enough biscuits left to feed everyone, so this was a good use of them. Any left now would end up as breadcrumbs.
Eunice bowed her head over the bowl placed in front of her, tears running down her face. The men sipped cautiously, but soon murmured appreciation and thanks.
“This should hold you over until breakfast,” Tilly said.
“This broth is...” Eunice had to take a breath to steady her voice. “It’s the best thing I’ve eaten in years.”
“It’s not Stew-goo,” Lou commented. He slurped the last drops of broth and picked up a few crumbs off the table to pop into his mouth.
Lily arrived as if on cue. Tilly sent Lou off with her to meet the other children. Drew, from the newly formed Greeting Committee, arrived to give the men a tour. Tilly took Eunice into the kitchen where she nearly fainted from delight. Mary was trying to help, while still being weepy and a bit wobbly. Tilly paired the two. That gave Mary a chance to sit and still be involved, and allowed Eunice to be useful under a watchful eye.
Assured that the next day’s meals would be done on time and adequate for extra numbers, Tilly went to speak with the Greeting Committee about accommodations for the newcomers. As she came out of the kitchen, she saw Angus still seated at the orientation table. He raised a hand to catch her attention.
“Everything all right?” she asked, pausing at the table.
“At the least we got some skilled hands in this bunch.”
“That’s a good thing, right?”
Angus nodded, but his finger was tapping.
“What?”
“The two who said they were mechanics...”
“Strong hands with scarred knuckles,” Tilly noted. “Do you doubt them?”
“Well-fed. Dressed in clothes that fit and hadn’t seen too much wear.”
Tilly narrowed her eyes, trying to arrive at Angus’s destination. “Where were they before, and why did they leave?”
Chapter 24
“The quality of life plummeted. Our measurements were cast aside. We no longer spoke of owning homes, good jobs and promotions or buying a new car. Now we hoped for safety and food to last through the winter.”
History of a Changed World, Angus T. Moss
NICK WATCHED AS TED shooed the children into the woods behind the shelter. They vanished into the shadows like leaves on a forest floor. Ted helped Nixie limp over to a clump of brambles where they could hide from view, but still have a line of sight. Once they were settled, Nick could barely see a vague outline through the foliage.
“Will they stay hidden?” he asked Wisp.
Wisp crouched in the tall weeds at the corner of the building watching the access road. “They are survivors,” he said without turning.
Nick scanned the tree line. Without a tracker’s skill, he didn’t think he’d be able to find any of them. Weather and wind had rumpled the tall grass between the shelter and the woods. No sign that over a dozen small bodies had passed. He wondered if it was instinctive for them to scatter, not travel in a line that would leave more evidence of their passage.
Wisp lurched to his feet. “There is a band of men, three, maybe four. I sense several others, frightened or angry with them.”
“It’s the pressgang,” Nick said with conviction. He’d had a plan forming in the back of his mind for just such an occasion.
“Possibly.”
Nick handed his gun back to Wisp. “Let them take me.”
Wisp’s mouth flattened in a disapproving line. “Why?”
“I’
ll go undercover,” Nick said. A small thrill ran up his spine at the sound of the word. He felt a more solid sense of purpose than he had in years. This was what he excelled at. What he’d been trained for in the other life, before Zero Year. “I can find out where they’re taking people, and you can come find me.”
Wisp pointedly looked over his shoulder to where the children were hiding. “And I take all these kids to High Meadow without you?”
Nick ignored his concerns. “You can find me, right?”
Wisp cocked his head, thoughtfully before giving a grudging assent.
The sound of a heavy vehicle coming up the driveway interrupted them. Nick took Wisp’s place in the weeds, peering around the corner of the building. A truck, more paddy wagon than delivery van, lumbered up to the building. Both cab doors opened and three people spilled out, seemingly in the middle of an argument.
“I told you it was here.”
“If you had filled the jugs in town like I told you we wouldn’t have to stop.”
“It’s fine!” A beefy man in jeans and a flannel shirt opened a side compartment in the truck and started dropping water jugs on the ground. They continued bickering over who should do what with some shoving and cursing thrown in, a disorganized, undisciplined bunch. That gave Nick confidence that he could escape their clutches easily.
Nick moved back to where Wisp stood. “I’m going out there,” he whispered.
“What if they kill you?” Wisp asked.
“Then you don’t need to come find me.”
Wisp looked at him, then back to the woods. “This is not the sort of situation I am comfortable with.”
“I am,” Nick asserted. “Before Zero Year, I was an FBI field agent. I’ve been undercover before. I know how to deal with this kind of idiot. I’ll let them take me, lay low and wait for you to bring the cavalry.”
“I do not have cavalry.”
“Martin will find some for you,” Nick said with a wink. “Take care of them,” he said as he started away.
“Wait.” Wisp looked uneasy, in a way that Nick hadn’t seen before.
“It has to be me,” Nick said. “I can’t track you the way you can track me.”
Wisp took a breath and laid his hand against Nick’s sternum. A ghost’s hand brushed against Nick’s soul making the hair stand up all over his body. Nick took a shuddering breath. Wisp withdrew his hand. “I can find you anywhere now.”
“What did you do?” Nick asked in a shaky whisper.
“Something that helps me locate you. It’s hard to explain and you probably wouldn’t understand.”
Nick shivered, feeling his body righting itself. “Okay. Good.” He felt the slightest tug in his mind that he couldn’t identify, but if it acted as a flare for Wisp, all the better. He looked down at his worn pants and shirt, patted his pockets for anything precious. Normally on a trip, he’d leave anything important or sentimental safe at home. Sure that he didn’t have anything suspicious on his person, he walked into the trees, bushwhacking his way down the side to come in from the front. He didn’t want the pressgang to think about who else might be hiding behind the building.
“Hey guys,” Nick drawled, shambling out of the woods along the driveway. That was all it took before the guns and ultimatums arrived.
Chapter 25
“For awhile, anything you needed could be had by just taking it. Homes were abandoned, shops looted. If you were brave enough to enter through the broken glass of a storefront, all the nonperishable items were there to seize. However, camping gear, blankets and warm clothing were the first to go.”
History of a Changed World, Angus T. Moss
TED’S VISION NARROWED down to a muscular, tanned hand holding a gun, and the horrific memory flooded back: Sigma’s howl of betrayal as the men came for him, the gunshot, so loud it made his ears ring. Blood on the wall.
There came an aching hole in his mind when Sigma died. Ted had burrowed down deep inside himself looking for the familiar presence that had been with him since his awakening, but never finding it. A piece of himself had been brutally torn away. He fled into the inner darkness, keening his loss. Until the warm light found him and nudged him awake, a gentle glow that bathed him in love and cradled him in safety. He floated in the light until the outside world forced him back.
A light that was there again today reminding him of possibilities and responsibilities. Ted opened his eyes to a gray damp day. He sat on wet leaves in a briar patch, Nixie’s hand warm on his arm.
“Ted?”
He looked at her, realizing that she’d been saying his name for some time. “I’m okay.”
Nixie’s eyes reflected his lie, but she didn’t call him on it. They understood each other and left room for the baggage. “He says come.”
Ted looked over to the shelter. Wisp stood beside the van waiting. His hands, hanging loose at his sides, were empty. The children clustered around Ted and Nixie, silent and uneasy. “Um, yes, of course.” He stood a little shakily on the uneven ground. Nixie took his arm, and they helped each other out of the underbrush to the deep grass behind the shelter. The children came pelting out of the woods all around them.
Ted stopped next to Wisp, as Nixie shepherded the kids into the van. “Thank you,” he whispered, squeezing his brother’s arm.
“Are you okay now?”
“I wandered a little. The guns...”
“I do not kill without need,” Wisp said.
Ted tightened his fingers on Wisp’s arm feeling the solid weight of muscle, the warmth of his skin beneath the damp shirt. “I have no doubts about you. Only dark memories.”
Wisp patted Ted’s hand, calluses and rough skin. Ted felt like an old man seeing his own regrets and losses in a hale and hearty son. Wisp was a warrior, something Ted would never achieve.
Wisp cocked his head. “We are who we were made to be.”
The words were meant to be reassuring, but instead added to Ted’s melancholy. “But some of us cannot be as we were planned,” he murmured.
Wisp led him to the passenger seat, then hurried around to the driver’s seat. “All accounted for?”
Ted looked over his shoulder to Nixie, nestled in the back with all the children. “Everybody in?”
“Hands and feet in!” came the chorus.
Ted had to smile despite the tears that threatened. He turned away, so the children wouldn’t see. This was the end of his usefulness. Without the children to care for, he had no further purpose on earth.
Chapter 26
“In the fraught atmosphere of the days following each year’s outbreak, the temperament of the populace was volatile. Good Samaritans were often killed by those they intended to aid.”
History of a Changed World, Angus T. Moss
TILLY WENT TO CHECK on the newcomers. She ran into Claude, looking a little dazed, in the hallway outside the men’s showers. “Everything okay?” she asked.
“It’s more than I can deal with, I think,” Claude mumbled. “Last week I was looking for a safe place to sleep.” He gestured to the facilities. “Today, I have to decide between washing my clothes or a hot shower before sleeping in a bed with sheets.” He huffed out a shaky sigh.
“Well, let me show you The Wardrobe.” Tilly took his arm companionably.
“The Wardrobe?”
“That’s what we call it.” Tilly steered him down the hall to a classroom. The wall outside had been adorned with signs made by the children. “This is the clothing room,” she said, leading him into a double classroom that had a moveable partition. The front portion had racks of clothing. “Men’s and boy’s over here, women’s and girl’s over there.” Tilly said before beckoning him into the back portion. On one side of the room, rows of tables held piles of clothing, cloth and random fabric. On the other side were three sewing machines, a pair of ironing boards and a long worktable.
Tilly folded her arms and scowled at the stacks of clothes. “We take anything the foragers find, but it rarely comes i
n any sort of order.” She patted a fat pile of white cotton. “Thirty-five men’s extra-large white t-shirts that might be destined to become diapers.”
“For babies?” Claude asked wide-eyed.
“We’ve got a few, and more pregnant women.” Tilly looked around at the many half-finished projects realizing how far behind she’d gotten. Food might take precedence, but clothing was a close second. “I’m most worried about coats. We need to make sure we have enough for all the children.”
Claude ghosted past her to peer at the machines. He poked through the piles of clothes waiting to be transformed, then walked over to a stack of sewing machine cases in the far corner. “Are these all machines?”
“Yes. Another thing the foragers bring me. I don’t know anything about them, or if they still work, but I figured it couldn’t hurt to at least have spare parts.” Tilly gestured to the first machine. “Annabell uses that one. She doesn’t have a lot of imagination, but she’s willing to work hard.” She went to stand by the second machine. “Nancy knew all about it. She was teaching some of the others...” Tilly rubbed her mouth. “Lost her to the flu.” Was it just a few days ago that she’d dealt with that crisis? She hadn’t had time to grieve the losses.
“Only two people?” Claude asked.
“We have a chore chart. Sometimes people will come in for a day or so, depending on the task. But you have to know what needs to be done to plan and delegate the work. That’s a bit more than Annabell can handle on her own. And I don’t have anyone else that knows much about sewing. Lottie does, but she’s the head of the Grower’s Committee and food takes precedence. I think Mary might, but she’s working in the kitchen right now and about nine months pregnant. Harlan can work leather, but he’s nearly blind.” Tilly hugged herself tightly against the rising emotion that burned in her chest. “We’re getting ready for refugees and winter. I need skilled hands I can rely on to delegate to.”
Claude’s watery blue eyes widened. “You’re putting me in charge?”