by Alice Sabo
“We will help you bury your people,” Everett said, his voice firm.
Wisp didn’t want to spend the time, but Trey wouldn’t last much longer without some help. Leaving two young boys with an unstable adult was not something he felt comfortable doing. And he knew Ted wouldn’t allow it.
“Best get it done before we eat,” Darrell mumbled. He radiated hurt and revulsion in equal measure, but a sense of duty topped it.
Trey looked back to where the children had gone. “I couldn’t let them go in there. See their parents like that...I couldn’t...”
Jean went over and took his hand. “It’s been a very bad year,” she said. “It was a fever. Took them so quick.” She bowed her head. Wisp could feel that her grief somehow lessened Trey’s. “We have a doctor, but it didn’t matter. There was nothing you could have done for them.” Her words eased the churn of emotions in Trey. Wisp could separate out the fear, grief and guilt in the man. His guilt was melting and the fear lessening.
“I hate that I’ve let them lie...” He looked over to the main house, tears standing bright in his eyes.
“Where should we dig?” Darrell asked.
Trey looked at the people assembled, squared his shoulders and led them to one of the bigger outbuildings. It housed a couple of large machines including a backhoe. Clay took charge, saying he’d run one before. They dug a pit in the front lawn. Then Istvan, Darrell, Wisp and Everett retrieved the bodies from the house, each wrapped in the bedding they lay in. Jean stood with Trey as he named each person as they were lowered into the grave, his parents, siblings and in-laws. The large extended family that ran this farm had been wiped out in a matter of hours. Wisp felt some of Trey’s darkness lifting, the wild emotions stabilizing into a more normal sense of grief.
Ted brought the children back to witness the burial. Jay and Jed held hands, but stayed away from Trey. Ted knelt down behind the boys, hugging them both. Everett offered a prayer. Trey and the boys joined in while Nixie and Darrell moved away. There was a raw, aching hurt in the air as Clay pushed dirt over the bodies. Silently, everyone watched as the soil mounded up over the grave. Wisp felt Trey starting to tumble again.
Ted stood up moving away from the children. Wisp could feel that he had some strong intent. Ted took a deep breath and started singing. The words weren’t in English, but the slow winding melody was obviously a dirge. Ted had a stunning tenor voice that carried across the hushed lawn, sending chills up Wisp’s spine. It made sense that a person who could hear the delicate shifts in a dialect or speak multiple languages would have perfect pitch.
His music pulled at everyone’s senses, uniting them for that moment in mourning. The melody spiraled upward like a hawk riding thermals, slow and graceful and competent. The last word hummed out into the morning followed by an appreciative silence. Jean sniffed, wiping tears away. Darrell slapped Ted on the back. Istvan rubbed his face.
“Come wash up,” Ted said, ducking his head shyly. “Food is ready.”
Wisp followed the group to a big sink on the backside of one of the outbuildings. The men scrubbed down to get the odor of death off their hands.
Ted waited for them in a large enclosure that housed four picnic tables with a row of grills along the back. The smell of food cooking conquered the repugnant stench from collecting the bodies.
“No way!” Darrell yelped. “Please tell me I am hallucinating the smell of bacon.”
Trey gave him a weak smile. A feather of pride lifting his grief for a moment. “We always keep a couple hogs.”
Everett twitched in shock, but took a careful breath before he spoke. “I don’t suppose you have any piglets to spare?”
The question tumbled Trey into a churn of regret, fear and dread. “I don’t know that they’re even still alive,” he stammered.
“We fed ‘em, Uncle Trey,” Jay piped up.
“And the chickens,” Jed added.
“And the pups,” Jay one-upped his brother.
“Yeah, and the pups.”
“You boys have done an excellent job,” Everett said. “Water, too?”
“Course,” Jay said dismissively. “They all gotta have fresh water.” Jed nodded solemnly.
Ted served them eggs fried in bacon fat, crisp bacon and biscuits hot from the oven. Trey felt relieved and thankful. The twins took it in stride that adults would provide a meal for them. The High Meadow folk were appreciative. Istvan was pleased, but his pleasure was distracted. Wisp thought he might be trying to figure out how best to barter all the goods available here.
A small yip startled them.
“You said pup, but I didn’t expect...” Clay whispered, pointing at a tubby little puppy bounding across the lawn towards them.
“That’s Chaser,” Jay said, with a proud grin. “He’s mine.” He wiggled off the seat to scoop up his pup.
“Mine’s Catcher,” Jed announced. “See.” He pointed at a second puppy who dragged a stick longer than he was. Jed ran to play tug of war with his pup.
Two more puppies tagged along, all heading for the scent of food. Clay dunked some biscuit in fat and offered it to the other two pups sniffing the ground for scraps. There was a fragile delight to him that Wisp found amusing.
“Where did they come from?” Istvan asked.
Trey shrugged. “Just showed up under foot one day.”
“Might be part coyote,” Clay said. He pulled the puppy into his lap and let it lick fat off his fingers. “They’ve got strange coloring.”
“Mutts,” Darrell grumbled. “Look like they’re a little bit of everything. Not really short coat or long. They’ve got brown, black, white and grey, not stripes or spots or merle. Just shaggy and splotchy.”
“Two’s more than enough for us,” Trey said. “You can have those two.”
Clay looked at Darrell. “Think Angus would mind?”
“Dogs are for guarding. I think Martin would like em,” Darrell said giving the fourth pup some biscuit.
Trey felt pleased that he could give a gift. Wisp sensed him moving back steadily from the abyss. Now, after a solid meal and favors exchanged, was the time to ask questions. “You said you were harvesting,” Wisp began feeling his way carefully. “Who do you trade with?”
“We’re an approved farm,” Trey said. That thread of pride bringing him another step out of darkness.
“I don’t know what that means,” Jean said.
“Oh, all our grains go right to the government.”
Wisp felt Everett react to the plural. So more than just oats. “Train food,” Wisp said.
“I suppose so.”
“And what do you get in return?” Istvan asked.
Trey turned to watch the twins rolling around on the lawn with the puppies. “Not enough, really. We work our asses off. They give us some clothes, coffee, sugar.” He rubbed at the knuckles on his left hand. “We got pretty much everything we need here. Pa said it was our duty, but Joe, my brother, he said it wasn’t fair.” He turned back to his guests. “They used to give us a couple soldiers in case of raiders. Had a gunfight just last winter. Scared Mama half to death. But we haven’t seen any soldiers for a good month now. It worries me.”
“They might’ve lost a lot of men, too,” Clay said.
Wisp sorted through the sense of the men thinking their separate thoughts. Trey was too vulnerable here. And he needed more hands to keep the farm going. The twins might be able to fill in for a little while, but adults were needed. “Clay and Jean should stay. Jean can you get back to High Meadow and let Angus know about this?”
Trey’s anxiety kicked up a notch. “Who’s that?”
“He runs High Meadow Med Center,” Wisp said.
“He’s a good man,” Istvan stated. “He will know how best to help you.”
“I don’t think you should be alone here,” Wisp said to Trey.
“You sure that’s a good idea?” Clay asked Wisp.
“This is an asset,” Wisp said. “If the government hasn’t co
me to get the oats, High Meadow can offer better barter for it.” Wisp turned back to Trey. “They can at least offer you laborers to help plant and harvest. They have a connection to a dairy that might want some of your grain also.”
“A dairy?” Trey’s mouth twisted in a wistful smile. “What I wouldn’t give for a cold glass of milk some days.”
“They have chickens,” Everett added. “Might be good to swap out some of your roosters, freshen the flocks.”
“This is a lot to think about.”
“That’s why they’re staying,” Wisp said. “You don’t need to make any decisions today. You’re exhausted. Let them help you get caught up. Talk to them.” He could tell that he’d made the right call. Jean was mourning Trey’s losses. Clay already felt territorial about protecting this devastated family. Trey was relaxing into acceptance of them.
“Now tell me about the poppies,” Wisp said.
“Oh, they’re for the government, too,” Trey said. “Huh. They’re usually here about now.”
“Who is?”
“Couple’a guys from the government. They go out and harvest the sap. Make medicine out of it.”
“Heroin?” Clay growled.
“Um no, I don’t...they said it was for medicines.”
“Morphine, laudanum, poppy syrup,” Ted said. “It was one of the first painkillers discovered.”
Wisp turned to Everett. “Tell Angus about that, too. He might want to get a couple plants.” He looked at Trey. “Do you know how to harvest the sap?”
“Me? I’ve got a hell of a lot of work to do my own self. I don’t mess with that.”
“I think you cut the seed pods,” Ted said. “There’s a delightful word, I can’t think of it now, for a special kind of knife used to score the pods. I think it’s a Dari word, although it could be Pashto, I must think about that in a bit. However, they’re still blooming, so I don’t think anything can be done right now.”
“Good.” Wisp turned to Clay. “Keep an eye out.” Then he stepped away from the table. “I’m going to walk the perimeter, and then I think we should go.” He walked into the nearest clump of trees before anyone could argue his decision.
Chapter 44
“After the flu season in the worst years, people were on the move again. Smaller communities could collapse after the loss of 30 - 40% of their population. Those remaining had no choice but to find another settlement.”
History of a Changed World, Angus T. Moss
NICK’S HEAD SNAPPED back with the force of the blow. He’d awoken tied to a chair in a small, damp room. Washburn leaned against the wall watching, but not speaking. A shaved-head bruiser was doing the questioning.
“Where’s your settlement?”
Nick spat blood to the side. No point in aggravating the man. His mouth tasted of blood and one eye was starting to swell. “I told you, north of Clarkeston.”
“What kind of supplies have you got?”
“Not enough to get us through the winter.” That answer always got him another punch. The questioning hadn’t varied. They asked the same thing over and over. He wasn’t sure if they didn’t believe him, or if they were trying to get him confused.
“How many people?”
“Twenty-three.”
“Where do you get supplies?”
“Train station.” That got him a head slap.
Washburn pushed away from the wall lazily and approached. “How many biobots do you have?”
Nick instinctively knew this question was the real reason for all this. “Biobots? Are you crazy? I used to hunt those things down. No way we’d have one in the settlement.” Nick watched Washburn’s cold blue eyes trying to judge how well the lie went over.
“No biobots?”
“Absolutely not. I wouldn’t live there.”
“Hmm. Have you heard of any settlements that have them?”
Nick made a point of looking like he was thinking. “No. Not any place that I go to.”
“And where do you go?”
“Clarkeston sometimes.” Nick thought hard about what he might say without getting anyone in trouble. “But I haven’t been there since the fire.”
Washburn exchanged a look with his soldier. “Tell me about the fire.”
“Mercenaries. They came into town and shot up a house. Set it on fire. Wind was bad that day, and it spread. I saw it from the train, went right past without stopping. Had to get off at White Bluffs. Everybody was talking about it.”
“How do you know it was mercenaries?”
“That’s what everybody said. Big black vans like yours. But they dressed in black. New equipment, big guns.” Nick watched how his recital was received. Washburn looked over to his soldier, tipped his head in query and received a slight nod in return.
Nick tensed waiting for the next blow, but Washburn beckoned his soldier to follow him out of the room. They spoke too softly for Nick to hear. Three new soldiers entered the room, one remaining at the door and the other two headed for him. Nick fought panic, knowing he needed to keep his head clear. He braced himself for more abuse, but they untied him then hauled him to his feet. His knees buckled, so they dragged him out of the room. He hadn’t realized how weak he’d gotten, which made him wonder how long he’d been unconscious. His sense of time was distorted. It felt as though he’d been in that room for hours. He was dehydrated and shaky, but that could be a side effect of whatever drug Washburn had used on him.
The soldiers hauled him down a dim corridor and through an archway with an oversized wooden door. They came out into a dimmer, damper hallway lined with prison cells. One side had the old fashioned kind made of metal bars with dirt floors. The other side only showed a row of solid steel doors. Nick figured this was a basement or subbasement of some kind, which would make escape a little more difficult. A barred door clanked open. The soldiers tossed him down into the dirt. Nick landed on hands and knees, grateful that he hadn’t been thrown into the other kind.
After the footsteps faded, Nick took a seat on the floor to examine his surroundings. He dabbed at the blood on his face with the hem of his shirt. A resounding thud indicated a very large door had closed somewhere.
“Nick?” a hoarse whisper called.
He could barely make out a figure in the cell one over from him. The cell between them was empty. He crawled over to the bars and squinted, unable to identify the person in the shadows, but he could guess. “Nadine? Are you all right?”
“Cold and hungry, but they didn’t hurt me,” she whispered back. “What did they do to you?”
“Questioned me.” Nick didn’t want to frighten her. They had been rough on him, but not brutal. This time.
“About what?”
Nick settled against the bars. “Not sure.” The dirt floor was cold. He could feel it sucking the heat away from his body. He hurt, and the cold didn’t help his achy joints. The cell had the sour smell of old sweat and urine. He wouldn’t be surprised if a few drunken soldiers had spent the night here.
A clang and creak announced a visitor. Nick hoped they weren’t coming for Nadine. He heard her breath catch and knew she was thinking the same thing. Resting his head against the cold bars, he waited for the next round.
Chapter 45
“As the flu took its toll, year after year, those of us still around struggled against losing hope.”
History of a Changed World, Angus T. Moss
WISP TOLD HIS CREW that they would spend another night at Holly Hill farm. His patrol of the perimeter hadn’t shown him any immediate danger, but he had a sense that he should stay put for a little while. Trey was still shaky, and Ted wanted more time with the boys.
By the time he got back from his circuit, Trey had taken the others to see the animals. Wisp joined them in the pig barn. Everett was deep in conversation with Trey about feed and bedding. Jean was watching a pen full of piglets.
“What are Clay and Darrell doing?” he asked Jean. He could feel the men nearby, but wanted to save himsel
f the walk.
“They went with Istvan to dig up a couple poppy plants for Angus. Darrell thinks we should destroy them.”
“They are a danger,” Wisp said in agreement. “How does Trey feel about it?”
“He said it was his brother’s project, and he hasn’t got time for it now.” Jean leaned on the fence around the pen. “I think he’s sad because it was his brother’s project, but he sees the danger, too. And he said he could plant some sorghum in that field. He knew all about it.”
Wisp felt her surprise at Trey’s knowledge. “He’s a farmer. Another good authority for Angus to consult.”
“Do you think they should come to High Meadow?” she asked.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“This farm is too important of a resource. Trey is familiar with all aspects of it. If Angus can loan him some workers, this place could fill the larders for winter.”
Jean glanced back at the piglets. “Not sure I want to think about that process.”
Wisp staggered as an unseen blow assailed him. Jean grabbed his arm, flooding him with her myriad concerns about pigs and the twins and her worries about an unspoken affection for Nick. She must have shouted because suddenly Ted was there, pushing everyone else aside. He took Wisp outside, walking him steadily away from the others.
“What happened?” Ted asked.
Wisp fingered his unmarked jaw, realizing that the damage had been done to Nick. Ted’s concern warmed him, overwhelming his connection to Nick. For the moment, that was helpful. He flinched as another blow landed. There was no reason for him to experience Nick’s pain, and if it got worse, he would need to adjust the bond. “Nick got hurt.”
Ted stumbled to a stop. “What does that mean?”