by Talis Jones
“Who?” Win hedges unwillingly.
Remi nudges his brother’s side. “Might as well come down now,” he calls to me.
With a cringe at my stiff muscles, I quickly climb my way down and push through the circle of hunters to stand by my guides. “Sorry, I wasn’t keen on having an arrow in my heart.”
Whiskey smiles and I look her over closely. Was she one of the changed or simply naturally gifted at stealth? Her Clan, as Remi called them, seemed pretty good so perhaps it’s just excellent training.
“I heard him call you Horseman,” Tango says while staring me down. “Why’s that?”
“Why’s your name Tango?” I return. “Do you like to dance?”
“Who are you?” he presses.
I smile, unbothered by his attempt to intimidate me. “An escaped convict headed to the border, same as these two.”
“Hmm,” he replies dissatisfied with my answer. “Whiskey called you ‘Pretty Lady’ but looks don’t mean much and there’s something about you that I don’t like.”
“You will not find yourself in small company,” I dismiss.
“Look, we didn’t mean to intrude on your secret stash or whatever,” Win begins quickly. “We just want to head out before the authorities can catch us. We won’t tell anyone about it either if that’s worrying you.”
“It isn’t,” Tango assures us. “We’ll relocate it regardless. And like I said, it doesn’t hurt to be owed a favor or thanks from the Nightshade Clan.”
“How far away is the border?” Remi asks.
Tango thinks a moment with a frown. “About a full day’s walk without stopping so about two depending on how much you decide to sleep or ease your pace.”
That close? I wonder, shocked. The borders must have shifted with the U.S. Alliance losing more ground. “No sleep,” I decide for us.
Win groans while Remi and Tango just stare at me.
“No sleep?” Tango says doubtfully. “Pardon me for saying, but you’re a hair past your prime. You’ll need the rest.”
“I spent over twenty-five years training. That’s more than a quarter of a century,” I retort. “No. Sleep.”
Tango looks deeply unsettled by that. I don’t care.
“I hate that plan,” Win whines.
“Some sleep,” Remi compromises firmly. “We reach the border a half a day later. It’ll still be there waiting. What we really need are supplies.”
“You’ve nothing to trade for,” Tango points out.
“Just send us towards the nearest home or town,” Remi assures him.
“Now I know why you were arrested,” he snorts. “How about we trade for a letter written and signed by you for us to take to your Clan with the promise of payment?”
Remi shakes his hand. “Deal.”
I squat against a large tree, too big around for someone to strangle me from behind, and wait while Win and Remi haggle for supplies. A body appears beside me and I flinch in surprise.
“Who are you, Horseman?” Whiskey asks in a voice like the wind in the leaves.
I decide she’s been altered like Remi because no one normal could possibly be able to just appear like that. Looking into her mossy green eyes, I ask sardonically, “Don’t you know?”
She shakes her head. “No, but I think my dad does though he’s trying very hard not to.”
No response comes into my head so I say nothing. My fingers play with the knife I’d stolen to free Win and she notices.
“That’s ours.” Her voice holds no accusation, she’s just stating an observation.
I look down at the sharp blade. “Yes, it is.”
“Are you stealing it?” she wonders with a curious tilt of her head. Again nothing in her demeanor suggests she’s offended or prepared to out me.
My lip curls at the thought of being a thief. “How about I trade for it?”
Whiskey thinks it over then gives a decided nod. “I want to know your name. I don’t think it’s Horseman.”
I take in this odd kid, painted like a background piece of the forest, and still at the knowing in her eyes. There’s a depth to them a twelve-year old shouldn’t have and it reminds me of that shift in Sofia. Stifling those ghosts banging on my memory’s door, I hold out my hand and shake her small one.
“My name is Morgan Travers,” I share quietly. “And I did not destroy this world.”
Her eyes are wide and I wonder if it’s recognition of my name or simply my declaration. The Alliance may have plastered my face on the news and memorized my name, but did it reach beyond the border? How far? At once or slowly with time? Will I be safe on the open road or is there a too tempting bounty on my head? I don’t know enough and it is maddening. I have an odd longing for my cell if only because it was familiar. I knew how to survive there, I knew who I was, I knew what to do. Out here? Out here I know nothing, have nothing, and can’t risk hoping I am nothing.
Her curious fingers reach out and brush against the collar of my prison uniform. “Morgan Travesty,” she murmurs before darting away.
I snort. The kid made a pun and it summed up my life so well. Tucking the knife up my sleeve not wanting to risk the other hunters seeing and trying to claim it, I rise to my feet.
“Let’s go,” I command sharply.
Win makes some sort of old lady joke while Remi gives me a knowing look as if he can sense my discomfort beyond the prison, my anxiety surrounded by wilderness and strangers, and my driving need to right wrongs. Remi’s knowing and Win’s judgment do not bother me, nor do the wary glances from the Clan. I know who I am and my identity does not rest in the opinions of others. If it did, then I would have broken under the yoke of my guilty sentence. God made me and my life is but a journey back to Him. Let them call me old, bossy, terrorist, criminal, needed, brilliant, hopeful, or fool. Their words do not change who I am. Who am I? I am but a speck of dust choosing to cast myself on the scale’s arm of good and by doing so just may help make all the difference.
Fifteen
Weighed down with two water canteens, a gun, three ragged blankets, a sack of dried rations, and the knife I keep close, we trek in the direction Tango pointed us. They’d walked with us until night fell before dispersing into the woods like ghosts. I’d stubbornly pushed Win and Remi to walk most of the night before finally succumbing to our need for rest though I slept with my knife clutched tight. When the sun rose it was no surprise to me because I’d watched it while keeping an eye on the slumbering boys. It wasn’t long before I was nudging them with my foot and forcing them to chew on breakfast as we resumed our trek.
A seemingly endless trek. I’d never been one for hiking, preferring indoor activities almost exclusively, and my stint in prison hadn’t helped change that even if the endless fresh air almost makes me feel like my spirit is stretching its wings.
I ignore my aching feet as I chew on a piece of jerky, eating it slow and savoring each bite. Tango promised there was a small rural town at the border’s edge, but we’d be smart to not place all of our hope in it.
“What’s a Clan?” I ask, my curiosity interrupting the unsettling sounds of wilderness surrounding us.
“People in the eastern mountains banded together in towns and each town became called a Clan,” Remi explains. He takes a small sip from a canteen and holds it out for me. At first I shake my head, but his stern glare has me reaching for it gratefully.
“So instead of being called something like Moore Town, it’s just the Nightshade Clan?”
Win nods. “Basically. They’re not towns like they used to be. They’re more…communal, I guess? Back to the basics with everyone pitching in. Those people back there were hunters from the Sundown Clan so they go out for stretches of time to bring back game for the Clan.”
“And what were you two responsible for?” I ask with a smirk.
“Oh they passed us around from task to task before giving up and kicking us out,” Win laughs. “The only thing we seemed truly good at was causing trouble.”
I halt in my tracks. “Then that note you gave Tango…”
Win slings his arm around my neck. “Aw don’t worry about that. He’ll get payment for the supplies. The favor is worth something, just not as much as he expects.”
Remi notices my displeasure at their lies. “Better spit that water back up if you’re so unhappy about its procurement.”
Shoving down my scowl, I lurch forwards and Win’s arm falls from my shoulders. This world doesn’t seem to have any place for the manners drilled into me before prison anymore, but we can’t just discard them or else you get anarchy like these two.
“Hey-o!!!” Win whoops excitedly. “I do believe that’s a building peeking through the trees, cuz!”
My heart rate picks up at the thought of entering a town or civilization at all. Will they recognize me? If I get arrested will Van still come for me or consider our deal void? And what even is a town these days? Now that I’m beyond my pen, frustration and fury at being kept in the dark without challenge rises like bile in my throat.
Following Remi and Win’s hurried pace, I practice my meditation exercises to regain control of myself. There’s no use in clutching to the past, all it will do is form a noose around your neck for the future.
Remi signals for us to wait and he goes on to scout ahead. I stand at attention, my practiced calm blanketing my nerves, while Win leans against a tree humming with a smile.
“I bet you’re excited to try something other than prison food, eh?” he bounces.
“Those chips and jerky felt like too much. I don’t know if I can even handle a stick of bubble gum after so long on health rations,” I confess a bit sadly. Blueberry bubble gum used to be a staple in my purse.
“Stick around with Remi and I long enough and we’ll corrupt that healthy diet right out of you,” he chuckles. “All those tasty delights packed with high fructose corn syrup aren’t so plentiful anymore, just what either isn’t long stale or is smuggled from the Alliance, but we take sugar where we can find it. Guess that’s your fault, huh?”
“At least one good thing came from it,” I note. “Back to basics.”
“Back to basics,” he nods.
Footsteps crunch in the woods and we both stiffen until Remi’s face appears beaming like sunshine. “It’s a town alright. Small but they’ve got a general store we can check out.”
“Let’s not waste any time then,” Win says, happily plunging through the last of the trees.
“Hey,” Remi murmurs and I turn to meet his solemn gaze. “You’re Morgan Travers,” he reminds me, “and Morgan Travers has friends.” He places a hand on my shoulder offering me assurance before turning to follow his cousin.
He sees too much and I frown at his back as I follow. I am not Gan, Horseman, or prisoner. I am just Morgan Travers, an intern with her dreams just beyond her reach.
There aren’t many people wandering around in this “town.” Honestly, it’s so small I’m not sure it warrants to be called a town. We get a few curious looks, but none seem hostile despite our prison garb and I take confidence from that. Stepping onto an off-kilter porch, Win holds the door open for us and we step inside a small house refurbished to function as a shop.
“Good afternoon!” a scrawny old man greets us with a gap-toothed smile. It’s almost startling to see such a real face after so long. I’d noticed a slow trend of both prisoners and guards looking more and more flawless and disturbingly ageless. A cosmetic advancement I’d assumed though I didn’t bother to ask. Win and Remi are both young-looking and handsome and the Sundown Clan were covered in paint and mud, but here before me is a real face that’s endured time and life that has carved memories into his skin. It’s startling and…comforting. Here is something real. Something familiar.
His eyes flick over our outfits then quickly retreat to our faces. “We don’t have much, we’re due for another supply drop later this week, but you’re welcome to look around. There’s food over there and, ah, clothing in that back corner.” With that he resumes reading something on his tablet. They have WiFi here?
Hiding a smile at his subtle suggestion that we change out of our prison rags, I let Remi and Win peruse the wares while I go right to that back corner. I find a pair of jeans that seem about the right size and a navy tank top. Even though the nights aren’t remotely chilly yet, I grab a chambray button down to tie at my waist until I need it.
Walking back up to the counter, I politely clear my throat until the man looks up. “Excuse me, how much are these?”
He looks at me closely and I notice a nervousness about him. “No charge.”
Surprise hikes up my eyebrows. “Excuse me?”
“No charge,” he insists. “It looks like you need them more than me.”
I feel weird accepting his charity, but don’t care enough to argue. “Do you have someplace I can change?”
“Sorry, ma’am,” he shakes his head.
“It’s alright,” I sigh.
Heading back towards the cousins I see their arms piled with items and debating over flashlights. “Hey, you guys almost ready?”
“We’re getting this one,” Remi tells Win firmly. Turning to me he answers, “Yeah, we’re all set.”
“Wait,” Win says. “I want to look at the candy he’s got behind the counter.” He skips away and Remi and I look at each other with an amused impatience.
“You’d better grab some clothes too,” I suggest. We can’t exactly keep running around advertising our status as escaped convicts.
“He’ll take forever,” Remi shakes his head to himself. “I’ll grab something for the both of us.”
Before he can move, Win saunters over calmly though there’s panic in his eyes. “We need to go. Now,” he whispers.
“Why?” I ask.
“That guy,” he explains, flicking his eyes in the man’s direction to emphasize who he means, “was reading an article about a prison transfer gone awry and it had a nice big picture of the infamous Morgan Travers.”
My blood turns cold and my mouth fills with cotton.
“Win, go grab some clothes for the both of us and don’t be too picky,” Remi orders quietly. Win obeys and I stay rooted to the spot while Remi crouches down to start packing the items they’d collected into a pair of canvas backpacks.
“What are you doing?” I manage to whisper.
Remi snaps the bags shut then slowly raises his head to look me dead in the eyes. “When Win comes back with the clothes, we’re going to run like hell. You got that? Your time as a thief starts tonight and it is either that or you get locked back up in prison and punished for running. No saving the world, no noble shit, nothing, and that’s assuming no yahoo local puts a bullet in your brain before they can drag you away.” His voice brooks no argument though I argue within myself to repress my instincts against thievery and allow self-preservation to flood my veins instead. “You are going to run, Gan. You’re going to run.”
Remi invokes my prison nickname. A name that I never asked for though it worked to function like an alter ego I could survive behind. He knows exactly what he’s doing when he calls me by it and I nod.
I count my heartbeats and all too soon Win reaches my side and with a rough shove Remi sends me sprinting for the door. The old man hollers in anger, in panic, but I shut his cries out and ignore it when a harsh thud makes them stop. I don’t try and make sure Remi and Win are behind me, I just run run run run RUN.
A loud crack has me stumbling but I roll into a somersault and get right back up, never stopping. Another bullet hits the dirt by my feet and I try to push myself harder, faster, my gaze locked onto the trees on the other side of this pathetic town. Another gun fires and someone yelps – Win must be trying to keep them back with return fire. Doesn’t matter, doesn’t matter, doesn’t matter, just RUN.
Clothes clutched in my hands, I send dirt flying behind me as I run as fast
as my body will allow. I dodge a townie wielding a bat and jump when another bullet strays too close. Another breath, another, another.
Finally trees embrace me, their branches reaching out to pull me to safety, except the pursuit doesn’t stop just because I dive into a dark forest. The locals probably know these woods as well as their own house. How far until the border??
“KEEP RUNNING,” Remi shouts when my steps falter at the tempting despair in my thoughts.
Reigniting my inner fire, I weave around trees, launch over roots, and use the growing night to cover my path. I can hear furious footsteps running behind me and I hope at least two pairs belong to the cousins. Another gunshot pierces my ears and a woman cries out.
“Don’t waste the ammo!” Remi orders Win. “Just keep running!”
We do. We run like our lives depend on it because, dammit, they do. If what Van fears is true then the world depends on us making it out of this crazy town alive. I’m so focused on running and just getting away that I don’t see the fence until it’s almost too late.
“Morgan!” Win shrieks in warning.
Just catching the glint of the metal fence, I manage to throw my weight down and slide to a stop, my toes inches from touching the wire.
Hurrying to my side, Remi begins rummaging in his backpack while Win takes position with his gun to keep our pursuers back while he works. “It’s electric,” he grunts in quick explanation. My eyes widen at my close electrocution.
Remi’s deft hands connect a coil of something, stripping off part of a rubber insulator with a knife, then winds it to a clamp of some sort before hooking the other end to a strange looking box. “Stole this from the bastard who ratted us out,” he huffs. “Some of those supplies come from the Coaltion. No surprise considering they’re right at the border.”
“Hurry up, cuz!” Win barks over his shoulder. He takes aim and another body hits the ground. Dead or just injured, I don’t know and try not to wonder.
Fiddling with a few buttons on the box, I suddenly feel a subtle shift in the air just before Remi shouts, “Got it. Let’s go!”