by Megan Hart
He could learn, but he’d never fit in. Elanna might, because she’d lived so long with the Tribe, but Tobin had been on his own for such a long time. He might not fit in anywhere, he thought grimly, listening to the men shout back and forth as they worked together.
Rachel’s niece Rebecca King tended her infant son even as she stirred a huge, steaming vat of boiling water. Every so often she’d punch down a shirt or pair of pants as they floated to the top with her long stick, and once in awhile, when she’d judged the clothes had soaked long enough, she used the same stick to pull out a piece and slop it into a smaller vat filled with cool water. The work looked hard, and though a nice spring breeze had kicked up, Rebecca’s face was red and covered with sweat.
“Can I help you?” Tobin asked.
“This women’s work is,” Rebecca said, shocked.
So he couldn’t even do that, Tobin thought dispiritedly. He sat next to the baby, instead, letting the sight of the infant’s toothless grin take away the sting of Rebecca’s reproach. The boy waved his arms and gurgled contentedly, sometimes letting out a yell to let his mother know he was still there.
“Ach, listen to him grex, naw,” said the young mother fondly of the baby. She paused in her stirring long enough to come over and adjust blankets that didn’t need adjusting. “And he rutches around so bad! I can’t hardly keep him covered.”
“He’s wonderful.” Tobin reached out to touch the baby’s hand. The tiny fingers closed around his thumb with surprising strength. “Strong.”
“Ja,” Rebecca said proudly. “A fine boy he is. My fourth.”
Tobin looked at Rebecca, her work-worn hands and her red face. Her sturdy body covered in plain clothes, and her homely face made beautiful by the love she had for her child. She’d experienced the joys of pregnancy and the pains of childbirth, just like Elanna had, but Rebecca’s children were hers to keep and raise.
Elanna would have the chance, too, he vowed. He looked again at the baby, now sleeping peacefully under his mother’s watching eyes. As many babies as she wanted.
“Grossvatter!” Rebecca said in surprise, as Samuel came out of the house. “I thought you resting were.”
Samuel scowled. “A man ven he’s dead can rest.”
He nodded curtly at Tobin, and took a seat beside him. The old man looked down at the child, allowing a ghost of a smile to curve his lips before scowling again. Rebecca fussed with the baby a minute more, then went back across the yard to her vat of boiling clothes.
“Ach, my back ouches me something fierce.” Samuel stretched, cracking his spine. He sighed heavily and looked at Tobin from beneath furrowed brows. “To the Gappers you wish to go.”
“I have to help Elanna. And you don’t want us here anyway.”
Samuel shook his head, saying nothing for a few minutes. He bent to tuck the already tucked covers around the child, who smiled in his sleep. When the old man did look back at Tobin, his expression was almost apologetic.
“My children I love wery much,” he said.
“I wouldn’t expect anything else,” Tobin said. “You’re lucky to have them.”
“Blessed by God,” the old man corrected, but his face smoothed as he again looked down at the baby. “Blessed by God, Tobin Vinter, these children to have. I chust want them safe to be.”
“I know that,” Tobin said, feeling a little sorry for the old man. “Believe me, we never meant to bring trouble.”
“Ach, trouble brings itself,” Samuel said with a wave of his hand. “Those Gappers trouble are. Alvays were.”
“As long as you keep giving them what they want,” Tobin said, “They’ll keep coming back.”
Samuel looked at him with surprise. “And give them what they want we should not? Let them to our homes come and destroy, as ten years ago they did during their battles?”
Tobin thought of the barrier, and the girl-children who’d killed grown men and women to defend themselves. The girl-children were on their way to becoming women now. But without men, their numbers would have to dwindle.
“They won’t be around forever, not if they’re all just girls,” Tobin said. “And they’ve got to run out of ammunition for those guns. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’ve already run out for most of them.”
“And the risk you want I should take?” Samuel asked shrewdly. “The lives of these children I should risk for your maybes?”
“Have you ever tried to fight them?”
“Plain People fight not,” Samuel said firmly.
That explained the way Kodak and her crew acted. They weren’t afraid of retaliation, because there had never been any. These people didn’t fight.
“I’m not Plain,” Tobin said.
Samuel chuckled, poking Tobin’s vest and pointing at his hat. “A Plain man we will you make, ain’t?”
“I don’t think so. I have to get Elanna back. If that means I have to fight them, I’ll do it.”
“You afraid are not,” Samuel said, not asking the question but making the statement.
Tobin thought about that. “I am afraid. But that won’t stop me from going. I have to. Tonight. When it’s safer to travel.”
Samuel rested his hand on Tobin’s shoulder. “God go with you, then, Tobin Vinter.”
Tobin stood. “I think I’d rather go by myself, thanks. God doesn’t seem to be on my side.”
He left the old man in the yard, and went inside to make his plans.
−
39-
“I have to pee,” Elanna repeated, resisting as much as she dared. The Gapper who’d come to get her tugged on her arm, hard, but the girl stood half a head shorter than Elanna. “And I’d like to do it soon, before I do it on the floor.”
“Damn it,” the teener grumbled. “I’m just supposed to take you to the General, not any place else.”
“Listen,” Elanna said reasonably. “I’ll only be a few minutes. I have to go really bad. You don’t want me making a mess in front of the General, do you?”
Whoever this teener girl was, she wasn’t too bright. “Yeah, right. But I’m supposed to take you straight there.”
The corridor was dirty and dim, lit only by the sunlight that managed to get in through a series of high, filth-covered windows up near the ceiling. Elanna held back again, despite the girl’s tugging.
“Come on,” she wheedled. “What’s your name, again?”
The girl hadn’t given it to her before, but she didn’t seem to remember that. Not the lightest matzoh ball in the soup, Elanna thought. The Gapper was still trying to tug her down the corridor.
“Golden,” the girl said. “Sergeant Tina Golden.”
“Well, listen, Tina,” Elanna began, but broke off when the girl began to laugh.
“Tina?” The girl snorted, letting go of Elanna’s arm long enough to hold her sides. “Nobody calls me Tina. The name’s Golden. Or Sergeant, sometimes, but not Tina. You really are a dumbass.”
Elanna mentally rolled her eyes. She wasn’t about to argue with the girl over who, exactly, was the dumbass. “Golden, then. Or Sergeant Sometimes. Whatever. I have to pee.”
“Yeah, yeah, I heard you,” Golden said. “And I told you, I’m supposed to take you right to the General’s office.”
“Sergeant!”
Golden turned, laughter gone, and snapped her hand up to her head and down. “Sir, yes, Sir!”
An older girl, dressed in the same green clothes as all the others, had appeared from around the bend. “Get your asses up here! He’s waiting!”
“Sir, Lieutenant Dowd, Sir!”
“Yes, Sergeant?” the older girl said wearily. Apparently, Elanna wasn’t the only one who thought Sergeant Golden might be a little tarnished.
“Prisoner says she has to piss, Sir!”
Dowd sighed. “Release her to me, Golden. I’ll take care of it.”
“Sir, yes, Sir!”
Golden dropped Elanna’s arm and pushed her toward Lieutenant Dowd. “Go with her. She’ll take
you to piss.”
“Thanks.” Elanna walked toward the girl, who looked about her own age. Lieutenant Dowd waited until Golden had scurried away before sighing and shaking her head.
“Dumbass,” she said under her breath.
Elanna thought it might be wiser not to agree. Dowd took her by the upper arm and hurried her down the corridor again. She didn’t look at her, and didn’t speak to her.
“How much longer?” Elanna didn’t have to fake the desperation in her voice. Her bladder was close to bursting.
“Shut up,” Dowd said matter-of-factly. “Prisoners don’t speak unless asked.”
For some reason, the same words coming from Kodak, or even Tayler or Winslow, would have made her more afraid.
“I really need to go,” Elanna said, not sure why she was tempting fate. Maybe she was just tired of being pushed around. Maybe she didn’t have anything left to lose?
Dowd stopped, staring at her. Even in the dim light Elanna could see the look of incredulity in the Gapper’s eyes.
“Didn’t you hear me?” Dowd asked. “I said shut up?”
Elanna smiled. “And didn’t you hear me? I said I really have to go. So unless you want me to wet my pants, I’d say let’s quit yapping and start walking.”
“Do you think I give a shit if you piss yourself?” Dowd asked.
“You might not,” Elanna said. “But what about the General?”
Her statement had been nothing more than a guess, a taunt, but it worked. Dowd’s expression changed to something like fear. She grabbed Elanna again and began pulling her.
“It’s right up here,” she said. “We’re almost there.”
“Baruch Ha-Shem,” Elanna murmured, truly grateful.
The facilities were crude, but effective. She didn’t know where the water came from to flush the toilet, but at least it did flush. She’d been expecting something more like a hole in the floor.
“Are you done?” Dowd asked, somewhat unnecessarily, since Elanna had pulled up her underwear and pants again.
“Done,” Elanna replied.
“Then let’s move it,” Dowd said grimly, pushing Elanna out the door. “He doesn’t like being kept waiting.”
“Not a patient man?” Elanna asked more lightly than she felt. Now that she was that much closer to seeing this General, her bravery was fading.
“I wouldn’t say that,” Dowd said with a smile Elanna didn’t like. “He can be patient about a lot of things. Mostly things you wouldn’t like.”
Elanna swallowed heavily. “I see.”
”You might,” Dowd said, with something like sympathy in her voice. “Here we are. You go alone.”
She opened a door. Elanna had no choice. She took a deep breath, and then she stepped through.
−
40-
“This idea crazy is!” Rachel fretted, even as she wrapped hot, fresh bread in a clean towel and put it in the knapsack. She put in a small crock of butter, and one of jam, and some thick slices of cheese. She handed the filled sack to Tobin, her face lined with worry.
“Nobody to the Gappers has ever gone,” she said, wringing her hands now they were no longer occupied. “Enoch, make the door shut! I want not the children to hear!”
Enoch did as she asked, closing the kitchen off from the rest of the house. “To the Gappers some have gone,” he corrected. “Back here, none have come.”
This didn’t seem to make Rachel feel any better. She let out a wail and sat suddenly, covering her face with her apron. It didn’t make Tobin feel too great, either, but at least he didn’t start to cry.
Samuel huffed from the corner, where he sat in his chair by the stove. “No sense does grexing make, Rachel,” he said. “The boy will to his woman go.”
“I have to go. I have to find her, Rachel.”
She nodded, wiping her eyes with the apron. “Ach, I know. But afraid for you I am, Tobin Vinter. Those Gappers are not nice.”
That certainly was an understatement. “That’s why I have to go tonight. Before they hurt Elanna. And before they come back here, looking for me.”
Enoch clapped his hand on Tobin’s shoulder. “Welcome to return you are,” he said, with a quick look at the scowling Samuel. “To our people, join. With the Gappers we will deal, if we must.”
“I’m not your problem,” Tobin said, but Enoch’s words moved him. Reb Ephraim had asked him to stay with the Tribe because of what he could bring them. These people just wanted him to stay. “We brought trouble with us, and I’m sorry about that. I’ll do what I can to keep them from coming here, Enoch. But I don’t know if I can stop them.”
“We will ready be,” Enoch said grimly.
Samuel rose from his corner. “Plain People do not fight!”
“And that is for years why these Gappers take what is ours, and nothing in return give us!” Enoch snapped.
Rachel gasped, her eyes flicking back and forth from her husband to her father. Tobin’s heart twisted at the sight. He’d brought dissention to the Plain People. They’d taken him in with open arms, risking their own lives, and what had he given them in return? What Samuel insisted they did not do: a fight.
“And for years they have left us in peace,” Samuel said, his old man’s voice trembling. He sank back down in his chair. “You don’t remember, Enoch Stolzfus, the times before.”
“I know,” Enoch interrupted, but more gently. “The times before. When the Gappers took by force, and the People suffered for it. But Vatter,” Enoch sighed. “That before was. And ten years ago, the Gappers fought themselves, and now who is left? Girls. Only young girls. And still we stand silent when insult us they do, when our women and children they make cry. When their trucks they drive through the fields chust for so, to scare the horses and make the cows’ milk sour run. When the crops they tear up, then demand their usual share. Ten years since their big battle, and still we give them food from our own babes’ mouths. How much longer, Vatter Lapp? Until dead we all are? Until dead they all are? How much longer do we stand without fighting for what ours is?”
“Forever,” said Samuel with conviction. “By order of our Holy Savior, who preached the other cheek to turn.”
“He also said to thine own self be true, and if thine eye offend thee, pluck it out,” Enoch said.
Rachel gasped again. “Enoch! Why you doing this are?”
Enoch turned to his wife. “For the babe this winter you will birth,” he said. “For all the kinder.”
Tobin stood awkwardly, wishing he hadn’t been here to watch the family tearing itself apart. It was all his fault, he thought. But he couldn’t change things.
“I need to go now,” he told them, hating to interrupt. “It’s dark.”
“Directions I will give you,” Enoch said. “Let me show you.”
As he followed Enoch from the kitchen, Tobin paused to take Rachel’s hands. “Thank you for everything,” he said.
“Come to us back,” Rachel told him, “and that will thanks enough be.”
−
41-
The cavernous room was windowless, damp and cold. Lit by a few guttering candles, it was also mostly dark. Elanna stumbled inward, hearing the door slam behind her. Though her eyes were used to the dim light of the corridor outside, this room was even darker. She blinked, trying to see.
“Step up!” A voice demanded from the room’s far side. “Closer!”
She squinted, searching the room while her eyes grew accustomed. “I can’t see what’s in front of me. I might fall.”
A short, sharp laugh, more a bark than a sound of humor, reverberated through the room. “You are a smart little bitch, aren’t you? And sassy, too. That’s good. I like sassy.”
Elanna risked a step toward the voice. Although the corners of the room would always remain in shadow, she could make out the outline of a large chair to her right. She turned toward it, praying the slickness she felt underfoot was just water seepage and not something more disgusting.
; “You could use a little more light in here,” she said, taking another step.
“Think so, do you?”
Elanna looked around at the candles, most no more than stubs. They not only provided a scant and wavering light, but they smelled bad, too. After learning from Samuel about the batteries, though, she found even these poor candles preferable to the battery powered lanterns the Tribe used.
“I do.” Another cautious step, sliding her feet to make sure she didn’t trip.