Citizen

by T. K. Malone

  Jake chuckled. “Possibly. Did you really think the end of the world as we know it wouldn’t come without a measure of confusion? Take Clay, Saggers and the woman—I’ll bet they’re confused. Confused but not likely to be killed unless they act up. Now, take your earlier position. You were more than likely going to be killed by either the army, the preppers, or possibly Ned or Trip, and…”

  “And?” Teah muttered, but was now fairly sure what conclusion was coming.

  His bulbous eyes glinted with satisfaction. “You know. You’re alive to fight another day, and as to hoes and seeds: they’re not for you because you’ve already elevated yourself up the ranks. Briscoe knows you’re a fighter, and fighters are what he needs right now.”

  “So, why am I locked up here?”

  “Best guess?”

  “Best guess.”

  “Because…” and Jake raked his fingers through his thick stubble, smoke curling into his matted hair. “Because he wanted to get a good night’s sleep and not worry about you killing him. That’d be my guess.”

  Teah grunted. She couldn’t see that. This was Briscoe’s territory—why would he be afraid of her? She wanted time to clear her head, to think, but she carried on staring at Jake nonetheless, baiting him to say more. He, though, appeared to be waiting for her. But then he smiled as wide as the valley they were in was broad, and began to nod and point at her.

  “You sure you didn’t set all this up?”

  The pure ridiculousness of that statement actually teased a smile out of her. “Sure,” she said, “I got my son kidnapped, went off in completely the wrong direction to fool his captors, and fixed on getting myself locked up for good measure. A master plan.”

  “But you’re still alive,” Jake pressed again. “Over nine million folk have died near here recently, and you’re still alive. That’s something, eh?”

  And she had to admit it was. If it wasn’t for Zac being fertile, her being fertile, two things that just couldn’t have happened in Black City, then she wouldn’t have left. “You said I’d remember more,” she whispered.

  “Aye, but I ain’t got control over when. You remember rescuing Connor?”

  She nodded.

  “Did you see a tramp, a vagrant close by?”

  “No.” But it wasn’t that simple. She remembered rescuing Connor; at least that’s what she presumed she’d done. But her only real memory was of getting the call and then walking away with Connor in her arms. “I don’t really remember what happened, not all of it.”

  “No,” Jake said. “No you won’t, and the only person who can tell you exactly what happened is now dead.”

  “Who?”

  But Jake didn’t answer. He got up, kicked the stool away, and left through the only door Teah could see. She wanted to shout at him, to plead with him to tell her more, but knew it would be futile. Jake was either drip-feeding her information because he enjoyed tormenting her, or he had a good reason. But which was true, she’d no clue. She did know she was slowly warming to him, though, but also knew she was coming from a point of hatred. Trust was still a long way off.

  “Say,” Jake said, popping his head back in, “your mood likely to get better if I fix you a place to clean up a little?”

  “Every chance.”

  “And you won’t kill Briscoe?”

  “Not today.”

  “Hmph. Give me a few minutes.”

  Her feelings toward Jake had moved on from neutral to almost off the kill list, though he hadn’t given her much time to mull it over. Soon after he’d left, she’d been freed and taken to a small cabin close by. It had that feel of having been vacated fast, and she wondered who’d been tossed out on her behalf. But when she saw the shower room, she’d decided she didn’t care. Even though she was still wearing her filthy clothes, she felt at least part human, and before she’d had a chance to ponder her next move, Jake had been at the front door.

  “You ride?” he asked when she’d opened it to him.

  “Never had the need.”

  “Then it’s time you learned,” he said with a smile.

  It was around noon, judging by the sun, and as Jake ambled off down the road, Teah looked around the prepper’s compound properly for the first time. For some reason she’d envisioned it as a poor version of Aldertown, and heaven knew that place had been nothing special. Now she realized she’d vastly underestimated the preppers. For a start, the road was hard core—she’d expected gravel and mud. The cabins that lined it were almost identical: single-level affairs which somehow looked tidier than Aldertown’s evolved growth had managed, and on nearly every roof, sun cells glinted black in the hot sun.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” Jake shouted over his shoulder. “Looks like some giant model village, but trust me, it’s more efficient this way.”

  Teah jumped down the steps and ran to catch up to him. “What way?”

  She began to notice other folk around, some sitting on their stoops, others headed places, but all eyes were on her, if only at a glance, and a little furtively.

  “This way—everything the same—means the builders don’t have to worry about personal tastes. If it’s too small for you, get married and you can have a bigger one.”

  “So, that’s mine?”

  “Fer now,” he said as she drew alongside. Jake stole a glance at her. “Least till we get Clay back, unless yer fixing to get hitched.” Jake winked at her, his grin uncertain, and Teah realized he was wary of her. She smiled inside.

  “So,” she asked, pulling the brim of the cattleman down to shield her eyes from the gawkers and sun alike. “Where we off to?”

  Jake stopped and scratched his chin but then carried on. “You ain’t going to like it.”

  “Why?”

  “Because Clay is over thataway,” and he pointed to the ridge she’d stopped at with Briscoe. Then he spun around, walking backwards, and pointed in the opposite direction. “And we’re going…thataway.”

  Teah stopped in her tracks. “What?”

  Jake ducked into an alley between two of the cabins and Teah hurried after him. “Safety, Teah, safety. Clay was fine when I saw him last—true, he was corralled with all the other upended folk of Aldertown, Morton and God knows where else, but he was safe. We, on the other hand, might not be.”

  “That ain’t my concern, Jake,” she said, pulling at his coat.

  He shrugged her hand off and strode out of the other end of the alley and toward two horses, both loaded with packs and tethered to a hitching rail. He went up to the first and stroked its flank, a piebald which appeared to be sizing up Teah.

  “Smoke?” Jake said.

  “Answer.”

  “Both?”

  She sighed. “Okay, both.” It was futile. She knew she couldn’t go on her own, but hated not being able to dictate anything. How she longed for those boring days when it was just her and Clay.

  Jake took out his smokes. “Factions,” he said. “Briscoe told you about the army, but there are others. Remember Zac’s gang? Well, they’re going to be…ambitious; yes, ambitious. The army: sure. But the one we’re interested in today has been, for the most part, forgotten about.”

  She leaned against the hitching rail. “Who’s that, then?”

  “Who? You of all people should know the answer to that. You helped folk get bed and board there. Who do you think?”

  “Black City Correctional,” Teah muttered.

  “Indeed, and there’s worse: there’s the real reason you don’t want to go fetch Clay right now, even if you could.”

  Teah took a drag on her smoke, trying to contain her growing frustration. “For chrissake, Jake, for once just spit it out.”

  Jake looked at her, mischief in his eyes. “Think of this compound as a layer of protection, and the army as another. Clay has two layers of protection between him and what lies over that ridge.”

  “Protection against what?”

  “His grandfather.”

  It took her the b
est part of a mile to go from screaming pain—her ribs hurting from the start, then her backside joining in—to a graceless fear-filled bouncing ride. In that mile they had left the cluster of buildings around the compound’s entrance and stockade and ridden out into the fields and down to the river. Once crossed, they headed as a slant away from the compound and up the valley, toward a distant ridge, soon following a mud trail which wound its way up there.

  Cornelius Clay: now, there was a revelation. The Black City Drone Slayer was, according to Jake, alive and well. Would he come for his grandson? Would he even know about Clay? Jake seemed to think so. But did that change anything?

  “So, you think Cornelius will come? You think he’ll attack this valley?” Teah asked Jake.

  “Think? It’s the most obvious option. Sure, common sense says stay in the confines of the correctional. If someone—the army maybe—tries to restore some form of order, that place would be the easiest to defend. They could subjugate the folk in the valley and get them to farm. Christmas has the smokes, drugs and booze, so leisure time is sorted. But crims will be crims, and greed will be greed, and it’s well known that this…” and he swept his arm around at the valley, “is the Holy Grail. It has its own power, provided by its sun cells for at least twelve hours a day, giving hot water and the like; luxuries now; rarities. We have a forge, a mill—”

  “You’re saying ‘We’ a lot…” Teah had noticed Jake appeared completely at home here, yet he’d never been known as a prepper, quite the opposite, quite the loner.

  “This? This whole valley’s mine—in my eyes. Know every crag and every gentle slope.”

  “Yours?”

  “In as much as knowledge is ownership. Would take a man with a nose like a rodent to sniff me out if I wanted to vanish. I’d be the last man standing if there was a ten-minute head start.”

  “You’d run rather than fight?”

  Jake grunted. “There’s a time to fight, ’n there’s a time to run. No, Cornelius will come, ‘specially so if he knows he’s got a grandson running around.”

  Teah scoffed at that. “You really think Cornelius Clay is the fatherly type?” But Jake didn’t reply, only spurred his horse into a trot and got a few lengths ahead. Cursing, Teah couldn’t get her mount to do the same.

  “Don’t fight her,” Jake shouted back, dropping his horse back into a walk. “Let her do what she does best.”

  And so Teah relaxed, deciding she’d faced far worse fates than getting jerked off a horse, and after just a few hundred yards she started to get a feel for the horse’s movement and a smile even graced her face.

  The fields narrowed as the valley closed in, falling more fallow than overgrown, and finally dappled by stands of young trees. Up ahead, a couple of mounted folk seemed to be waiting for them. As they approached, they hailed Jake, then she saw they’d had shotguns at hand and knew straight away they were for her benefit.

  For just a moment she wondered if Jake had double crossed her, then remembered the rifle strung in its holster on her saddlebag. From behind the two waiting riders, another mounted figure emerged, unmistakeably Briscoe.

  “Took your time,” he shouted, and Teah was sure his teeth glinted in the sun.

  “Had to bust this one outta the hold,” Jake hollered back.

  “Well,” Briscoe replied, “I hope her temper’s worth the night’s sleep,” and Teah stopped her horse just a few yards short of him.

  “That was some welcome you gave me,” she said, keeping her rising anger in check, just seeing Spike Briscoe almost bringing it to the boil.

  “Yeah, about that…” and he urged his horse beside hers. “Do you know the way through our walls? Did you expect a hotel reception and a man to carry your bags? Trust me, the welcome we gave you was far better than most get. Ned, for instance, he died for his.” Spike Briscoe smiled. “I want you to meet the gang. There’s Wallace over there,” and he pointed to a gruff-looking beast, his red face full of scowls. He grunted a greeting, then cooked up a mouthful of spit and spat it out.

  “He’s mighty friendly,” Briscoe assured her. “And then there’s Kelly—she’s nearly as good a tracker as Jake.” Kelly tipped her hat, her long grey-brown hair tied back in a ponytail. Briscoe smiled. “She thaws slowly. You know Trip, of course; he’s a few hundred yards up the trail, taking a shit, and then there’s Max. He’s gotta temper, but mostly he’s a gentle giant.”

  Briscoe stopped talking but kept on looking at Teah. She nodded to Max, a mountain of a man who gave her no response, who just stared at her until his face seemed to crack, finally letting out a smile. “You really spank Spike?” he asked.

  “Evens,” she replied.

  He shrugged. “Evens is good,” but when Spike then wheeled his horse around and trotted off, the big man duly followed.

  “So, you’ve met the gang,” Jake said and winked at her. “They don’t all hate you, you know, and Trip would have told them the stories ‘bout you. So, at worst they’ll just be wary of you, at best even fear you a little—but I wouldn’t count on it.” He turned his own horse and headed on up the trail.

  Teah couldn’t make up her mind if that was a good thing or not as she urged her mount into following the small group. Trip emerged from the trees as she passed by the spot where he’d taken a shit.

  “Hanging back there, Trip,” she said. “Fancy you knew a little more ‘bout the preppers than you let on.”

  He soon mounted and fell in beside her. “Never said I’d shown you all my cards. ‘Sides, I’m not quite as entrenched as you think I am—that’s why I’m along too.”

  “Along?”

  “This…” he muttered. “This ain’t no stroll in the woods, it’s some kinda test. A way of getting to know you, I reckon.”

  “But you know them all?”

  “All ‘cept the dark fella. Never seen him before. Kelly, the woman: only met her last night—she’s about as much fun as a couple of rocks crushing yer nuts. Wallace seems a typical drunk, everything’s everyone else’s problem. Must have somethin’ about him, though, to be on this little expedition. Spike? Well, Spike’s Spike.”

  “He killed Ned.”

  Trip took a pack of smokes out of his coat, lit one and passed them over. “Sure did.”

  “And you’re okay with that?”

  He shrugged. “Might come as news to you, but most folks don’t give two shits ‘bout what I am and am not okay with. Ned’s dead. Me getting dead over it ain’t going to bring him back to life. Besides, he didn’t give two shits about me.” He smiled at Teah. “It was a bastard good shot, though—just dropped him like he’d had his strings cut.”

  She blew out a breath of smoke. “Didn’t he just.”

  The trail began to climb, and with it the air became that bit chillier. Clouds came together to blanket the valley, and Teah pulled her coat tight around her, wincing at a not so gentle reminder from her ribs.

  “Don’t these folk eat?” she muttered to Trip as the redwoods grew shorter and the trail narrowed even farther. He only shrugged, so she turned her collar up and tucked her chin in.

  “Ain’t much point in them feeding us up if they’re just going to kill us,” Trip eventually said.

  The camp was a small cluster of trappers’ cabins standing in a small clearing just shy of the last ascent to the pass into the next valley. Teah jumped off her horse, pleased to feel firm ground underfoot after what had been a good few hours trekking. Dusk was beginning to get a solid grip on the late afternoon, though the clouds had made for a dull day, anyway. She led the horse over to a hitching rail by the biggest of the cabins. Giving it a stroke, she stretched her legs, wincing at the pain from her ribs.

  “He do that?” said the woman, Kelly.

  “Yeah,” Teah replied. “But it was mutual. It’ll be gone soon. I heal real fast.”

  “Anyone fixed it up?”

  Teah shook her head.

  “Come on, follow me,” and Kelly took her to the farthest cabin—a small one
tucked away within a stand of redwoods. She stopped on its short stoop. “I don’t bite, you know. This one’s mine. Unlike the rest, I actually live up here. Prefer squirrels and bears to folk—they tell less lies.”

  Teah couldn’t argue with her reasoning, and so she followed her in, taking the cattleman off as she ducked her head in through the low front door.

  “’Taint much,” said Kelly, “but it’s home. You can take the sofa if you want, unless you’re fixing on hooking up with one of the men. I’d steer clear of Wallace, though—man stinks like coyote crap. Now, take that old coat off and yer shirt and I’ll go find some bandages and the like. No doubt you got a few grazes too—tangling with Spike tends to do that.”

  Kelly disappeared through a small doorway. Teah dumped Lester’s coat on a chair by the front door and sat on the old sofa which faced a brick hearth.

  “Do you want a cup of coffee? Call it a welcome gift as it’s going to get short till things sort themselves out,” Kelly hollered from the other room. “Ain’t got no sweetener or sugar.”

  “That’s okay,” Teah shouted back, her voice somehow strange in the close confines of the place, somehow unwelcome. “Say, you okay with me being here?” The door banged and Kelly came back into the room, a small bowl of water in one hand, towels, bandages and what looked like a shirt in the other.

  “It’s a long shirt; best I can do. Now, let’s see what you’ve up and done to yerself.” She came around the sofa, set the bowl on the hearth and threw the towels and bandages down. Teah took her shirt off. Kelly breathed in fast. “That there is one bruised tit,” and she set to work. “Say, did Morrow put up much of a fight?” Kelly asked, looking up at Teah, seeming to be searching out the truth from within her eyes.

  “Didn’t get much of a chance.”

  “Oh?” Kelly smirked. “How’d you drop him?”

  “Crossbow; bolt straight to the eye.”

  She winced. “That’ll do it. Shame, I’d have quite liked it if you’d beaten his ass—Grizzly too.”