by Alice Sabo
Tilly sucked in air, realizing she’d been holding her breath. The hallway from her office went behind the kitchen down to the back entrance of the small theatre. If she could sneak out that way, she could get help. She huddled in her office, out of sight. Would they see her? Where was Martin? Frustration and fear filled her making her second guess herself. The men didn’t know where she was. She was safe for the moment.
“No! Please!” Eunice howled just before a gunshot. “No!”
Tilly felt relieved and guilty that whoever got shot wasn’t Eunice. She needed her. But that meant someone else had been shot and possibly killed. Her mouth went dry, and her heart beat hard. She didn’t want to think about who it might be, but her mind started ticking off people. It had been long enough that Angus should be in his office. At this time of night only the kitchen workers should be around. Martin should be doing a round of the guards.
Someone started sobbing, but Tilly didn’t think it sounded like Eunice. She waited to hear voices, the Watch responding to the gunshot, but no one came. Were they dead? Had these usurpers already killed the Watch? That was the last straw pushing Tilly over from fear to outrage. No one invaded her castle and got away with it. She crawled over to her desk. As quietly as possible, she opened the drawer and removed a key. Then she scooted over to the small lockbox hidden behind the sofa. She pulled out the gun and ammunition, loading it with practiced efficiency. It had been years since she’d handled a weapon, but it all came back too easily.
The weight of the gun in her hand gave her false bravery. She crept down the hallway listening with all her might. Someone had half closed the door into the kitchen. Tilly leaned against the wall and listened. The woman crying sounded like Mary. Groans were coming from a low position, someone on the floor, most likely the person who’d been shot. From the sound of the voice, it was a man. With Eunice, that made three people, but she knew there could be a few more in there.
She peered in the doorway, but the sharp angle showed her the edge of a worktable and a bloody smear on the floor. The next door down went into the dish room. It ran the length of the kitchen, from hallway to cafeteria, and would give her a clear view of the room. And thankfully, the light in the dish room was out. She slipped past the door and hurried to the next one.
“You don’t want to do this.”
Tilly recognized Joshua’s voice. He must have come down with Mary. He rarely worked in the kitchen, but Tilly was glad for his level head in this situation.
“Just put the gun down and go,” Joshua said.
“Shut up, or I’ll shoot you, too.”
Tilly crawled into the dish room and peeked over the counter between the dish racks into the empty cafeteria. Past the tables and chairs, a man’s body lay sprawled by the exit to the main corridor. She couldn’t tell who it was, or if he was still alive. Anyone walking by would see him. She hoped that meant help was on the way, but this late at night, few people would be out.
She silently moved over to the hatch into the kitchen, but used bowls and utensils blocked her view. Tilly had to find a slot to peer through. What she saw made her blood boil. Three strangers, one had a gun, the other two had long, wicked-looking knives in their hands. Directly across from her, the man with the gun stood with his back to the big industrial stove where he could see the whole room. At his feet lay Jack, his shirt so bloody she couldn’t tell where he’d been wounded. Joshua was to his right near the entrance into the cafeteria. One of the men armed with a knife stood guard on him. Joshua had his arms around Mary who sniffled, her face pressed against his shirt. To the gunman’s left, Eunice stood behind a work table, the other raider watching her. She looked nervous but not frightened. Her eyes ranged the room, searching for a way out of the situation, Tilly supposed. It took a few passes before Eunice’s brain registered what her eyes had seen. She blinked, then locked her eyes on Tilly.
Tilly gave a tiny nod, worried that any motion might attract attention. Eunice looked down, then repositioned the heavy wooden cutting board in front of her. She shot a glance to her left where the man with the knife stood. Her eyes moved to Joshua, who had all his attention on Mary. Then she looked back and gave Tilly an answering nod. She cleared her throat which caught everyone’s attention.
“Shut up,” the gunman growled.
Eunice gave an exaggerated sigh tipping her head in an odd manner. Tilly waited patiently until Joshua looked over at her. He kissed Mary on the top of the head and smoothed her hair using the motion to push her back a step.
Tilly saw the setup. This would be her only chance.
“What are you doing?” the gunman barked, aiming at Joshua who stepped in front of Mary.
Her hand rose as if of its own volition. Other instincts took over, aiming, bracing the gun. The loud report startled Tilly. She hadn’t realized she’d pulled the trigger. The intruder went down. Eunice swung the heavy cutting board catching her guard in the throat with the edge. Joshua took the other one down with a roundhouse kick.
An alarm started clanging. Tilly almost laughed. Help was on the way.
Chapter 59
“Those left with the job of finishing projects started by a fractured government tried their hardest to continue the work. Locked into a tunnel vision of desperation, they didn’t stop to wonder if those resources could have been better used elsewhere.”
History of a Changed World, Angus T. Moss
WISP VANISHED INTO the night relieved to be away from people for a time. He breathed in the damp air: wet greenery, mud and manure. His wool sweater beaded with moisture, the weight of a handgun heavy in the pocket. Nick had refused to let him leave without being armed. He preferred stealth but accepted the weapon for Nick’s peace of mind.
He could feel the herd of cattle like a great mass of warmth off to the left. He turned away from them to a thin trail, faint in the intermittent moonlight. Rags of clouds slid across the sky randomly obscuring the light. Wisp walked along the trail until he felt the similar warmth of another group of animals. It wasn’t close, but there were enough of them to make a landmark.
He stretched out his senses looking for more sophisticated minds. At the very edge of his range, he felt them. A couple of people, more than one but less than five, that was all he could tell. He went back down the trail to circle the house in the other direction.
The cattle were settling down, now that he came closer, he could feel that a few of them were in minor discomfort. Nothing to be done for that now. Maybe Istvan’s ranchers would be able to deal with it. He passed their meadow moving towards the slaughterhouse. A breeze brought the stench of rotting meat. He moved upwind to circle the building, walking along the edge of the parking lot and back into the woods on the far side of the building. Wisp skirted the perimeter, giving the slaughterhouse a lot of room. It wasn’t just the odor; there was a darkness, a residual essence of death that pressed heavily on his senses.
Working his way through the woods, he found another narrow lane. He paused, his back toward the slaughterhouse, before stepping out onto it, listening, tasting the night. There was something at the other end of the lane. It could be someone hurt or fearful. Pain and fear felt similar at a great distance. He stayed in the woods moving with the wind and leaves toward the person. As he got closer, it became clearer. More than one person, pain of injuries, but there was anxiety there also. He paused, crouching in the undergrowth to check the area. Pushing out his senses, he listened in all directions. Behind him, the cows were a smudge of warmth. Nick and the others were pale glimmers. Ahead of him, more pale glimmers. Not all of them were injured. Nothing else human as far as he could reach. He continued his silent hike through the woods.
He was just a few yards from the people when he saw a light. He could hear their murmuring, a woman’s voice, fearful, a man’s voice filled with pain. There were two others, both dulled, feeling almost drugged. Wisp slipped past them to scan for pursuers. Something trembled with strong emotion at the limit of his capabilities. He h
unkered down at the foot of a tree and concentrated on that distant danger. It did not seem to be moving and was too far away to pose an immediate threat.
Wisp circled the people again, knowing that coming from the direction of the trouble would frighten them. He worked his way out onto the path a short distance from them. Before approaching, he listened again, but nothing had changed. He approached slowly, but they had no guards. The woman whimpered when she saw him. The wounded man slumped by their small fire cradling his bloody right arm. He turned to look at Wisp and fell back in despair. The other two were women, starvation thin, sprawled against tree trunks eyes closed, mouths slack as if too exhausted to move. They didn’t even acknowledge Wisp’s arrival.
The camp was sloppy. A small fire in the middle of the path with people arranged around it like they had dropped from exhaustion. Wisp didn’t see any supplies or weapons, not even water.
“I won’t hurt you,” Wisp said.
“Who are you?” the woman asked. Her fear became edged with curiosity.
“Call me Wisp. There are others nearby that can help you. Can you walk?”
Her curiosity shattered under the leaden weight of dread. “You’re going to make us go back,” she moaned.
“No.” Wisp moved so that the firelight would fall on his tattoo. Most people knew what that meant and would also know that a biobot on his own wouldn’t be heading to any type of authorities. “I can offer you food, water and first aid. You are free to leave at any time.”
Her eyes were drawn to his neck, but continued past him to search the trail. “You’re alone?” A fluttering fear chased a determined rebelliousness in her.
Wisp wondered if she thought she could fight him. It was amazing how brave she was and how foolish. He could take out all four of them in minutes, but she didn’t know that. “The others are nearby. I can bring them here to help.” He looked over at the two women. They didn’t show any interest in his arrival. They were worn thin and so exhausted their emotions were flat.
“Don’t touch them.” The woman spoke with a fierceness that belied her helplessness.
Wisp pulled the handgun from the pocket of his jacket. She sucked in a breath. He handed it to her. “I will return with help.”
Chapter 60
“As the final vestiges of government failed, we found ourselves on our own, again. This time there was no fallback position. If we did not manage self sufficiency, we would die.”
History of a Changed World, Angus T. Moss
“YOU SHOT HIM!” ANGUS sounded outraged.
“What did you expect me to do?” Tilly barked back.
Angus pulled her into a tight hug. She realized he was shaking. She hugged him, her knees going a little weak.
“I expected you to survive, my love,” Angus murmured.
She realized that he hadn’t been angry. She took one more moment to hold on to the man she loved. Should she tell him this wasn’t the first man she’d killed? But then, he wouldn’t be surprised. They had both been through harsh times before meeting up. She took a moment of comfort in his concern, then she returned to Mistress of the Keep. “Where’s Martin?” she asked as she pulled free of Angus’s embrace.
“Infirmary with the injured one.”
She took a quick inventory of people in the kitchen. “There were two with knives—“
“But only one still alive,” Angus said.
“I didn’t think Joshua...” She didn’t want to say killed. Was there a better word for taking the life of an enemy? He didn’t deserve to be spoken of as if she regretted his death.
“He didn’t.” Angus nodded toward where Eunice sat sipping a cup of tea and answering Tall Joe’s questions.
“Eunice killed a man?”
Angus pointed to the big cutting board lying on the floor. “Swung that chunk of wood hard enough to crush his windpipe. Sheer luck I think. The trajectory, strength, timing.” He shook his head. “Amazing what a person can do when they are scared enough.”
Tilly swallowed hard. “When you keep your head,” she added. Her emotions were all topsy-turvy. The Watch flooded into the kitchen after she’d gunned down that man. Tall Joe gingerly took the weapon out of her hand, for safety sake, he’d said. The bodies were removed. Joshua whisked Mary away. They’d carted Jack out on a stretcher. Through the adrenaline rush and let down, she hadn’t allowed herself to dwell on the repercussions.
“Come sit,” Angus tugged on her elbow.
She realized he was there without his walker. She took his arm, letting him lead her to a seat next to Eunice. Someone brought her a cup of tea. She sat up straight but took a long drink. It was sweet. Someone had used their sparse store of sugar for her. She was annoyed and touched beyond words at the same time. Tears threatened again. She cleared her throat vigorously. “Who was he?”
“One of the Creamery refugees,” Tall Joe told her.
“And his accomplices?”
“One came in last week, one with him. Martin will get the story.”
“Jack?” Her voice sounded sharp to her ears, but it was the only way to keep her emotions in check.
Tall Joe glanced past her. Tilly followed his gaze to see Martin in the cafeteria. She took another long drink of tea while waiting for him to join them.
“What’s the word?” Angus asked as Martin joined them at the table.
“Jack has a flesh wound but decided that playing dead was his best bet. They shot Toby out there,” he said gesturing to the cafeteria. He patted his collarbone. “Chest wound, but Ruth thinks he’ll be okay.” He gave Tilly an assessing look. “Man you shot is dead.”
“Mine too,” Eunice announced. “I got the bastard.” Her voice was ragged with contempt. “I can’t stand it. I won’t! I absolutely will not let them win.”
Martin leaned over to squeeze her hand. “Well done, Eunice.”
She sucked in a shaky breath. “Thank you.” She wrapped her trembling hands around a mug.
Tilly patted her shoulder. “That’s the spirit.” She caught Martin’s eye. “I know how to handle a gun, and I always shoot to kill.”
The look of respect that Martin gave her sent a trickle of pride through her still shaky innards. He knew what she was capable of, now.
“Were you able to get anything from the surviving attacker?”
“Joshua gave him a cracked cheekbone and a concussion. The guy is gutless. Said he did whatever the boss wanted. Gave me the names of three other guys that were in their crew but refused to join in tonight’s little fracas. The Watch is gathering them up.”
“Thank you,” Angus said with a distracted nod. “I guess this is the price we have to pay for accepting all and sundry into our home.”
“We should quarantine them,” Tilly said. She stared at the table top as her brain started clicking over the tasks involved. Where could they put them? How would they feed them? Resources and staffing shuffled back and forth in her mind. When she looked up, all eyes were on her. “The storm shelter.”
“That might work...” Martin started.
“It has cots, showers and a kitchen. It also has a freight elevator.” She waved toward the back hallway. “There’s four separate chambers, right? We can put men in one, women in another, and children in a third.”
“And the fourth?” Angus asked.
“Troublemakers,” Martin said.
Tilly was leaning more toward families or elderly, but left it to Martin. “Yes, I suppose that would work.”
“It seems rather grim a place to keep them,” Angus said with a tentative plea in his voice.
“I wouldn’t have minded,” Eunice interjected. “You people were so kind to me that I kept waiting for the trap to spring. If you put me in a cell for a week, I wouldn’t have minded.” Her mouth twisted as she fought for composure. “You’re too good. Too trusting.”
“It’s late,” Tilly said brusquely. “Tomorrow we will inspect the storm shelter and get started on sorting out the refugees.”
Chapter 61
“A fragile network of trade between settlements expanded. There were some closed settlements that had previously provided for the government that were now able to open theirs to the rest of us.”
History of a Changed World, Angus T. Moss
NICK WATCHED THE WOMAN wolf down her food. She kept an eye on the men in the room. Her gaze tracked to Nixie and Ted, then she scanned the room again. “You’re safe,” he said for the fifth time. He knew she wouldn’t believe him, but he felt the need to repeat it. Her companions were resting upstairs. The man had a gunshot wound in his arm. The bullet had gone right through the forearm, just above the wrist. Istvan had cleaned the wound and bandaged it. The women had little enough strength to drink some water before collapsing into sleep. They were so thin and worn, he figured that they would need weeks to recover.
He looked up as Wisp came into the room. He’d asked him to do another check of the perimeter.
“Nothing,” Wisp reported.
“No one followed you,” Nick told the woman.
She huffed out a grunt of disgust. “There wasn’t anyone to follow us. That’s why we got away.”
“From where?” Nick asked patiently. She’d ignored all of his questions on the way in, not even sharing her name. He hoped that a dry place to sleep, food and security would loosen her tongue.
She helped herself to another packet of Crunch. “The processing plant,” she mumbled with a mouth full.
A tingle of excitement charged through Nick. “Stew-goo?”
She looked at him under her lashes, reaching for another packet of food. “You can’t get anywhere near it, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“I’m just trying to figure out where stuff comes from,” Nick explained.
She tucked the Crunch into a pocket. Someone had given her a sweater that was too large for her. She pulled it close around her as if chilled. “Not much longer.”