by Scheer, Ron
“There’s one more thing,” Sawyer said. The solemn tone of his voice caught my complete attention. He looked up at me from the wheelchair, struggling for words. A few seconds passed before he said, “It’s not unusual, when you’re foraging, to find…remains.”
“You mean bodies? Dead bodies?” I shuddered. Gross.
“Don’t let the idea of dead people get to you. They’re dead, Dillon. They can’t hurt you.”
“Are there a lot…out there?”
“I’ve seen my share. Too many people didn’t survive the aftermath of the Collapse. There was no one to bury those that died alone out there.”
It was morbid, but I understood Sawyer was trying to prepare me. It would have been horrifying to stumble upon remains and be surprised. A gruesome image entered my head, and I had to ask, “Do the bodies still have…flesh?”
“No. Insects and time have taken care of all of that. The only thing you’ll find is bones and a few remnants of whatever clothing they were wearing when they died.”
That was a relief. Bones would be bad enough.
I tried to get my mind off of dead people by looking at live ones. A couple walked past close enough for us to overhear.
“I wonder if the mayor would be so willing to pay the ransom if it were our daughter that was a captive instead of his,” the man said.
“Hush now, Dennis,” scolded the woman. “You don’t want to be talking like that. I’m sure it wouldn’t matter whose daughter was taken.”
“Maybe, maybe not. All I’m saying is that it sure seems strange that those Scavengers were lucky enough to capture the one girl in this whole town that would practically guarantee the mayor’s cooperation.”
“I suppose it is a little strange. Do you think they planned it that way?”
“I don’t know how they could have. I’d never seen any of them before. Had you?”
“No, none of them looked like anyone I know…”
The pair passed out of hearing. Sawyer’s eyes held the same concern I was feeling. “Is he right? Did those Scavengers kidnap Chane because of who her father is?”
He frowned. “We may never know. I’ll tell you this much though—if they did, if this wasn’t just finding a rose in a garden of weeds. Those Scavengers have either been watching this town, or someone in their band knows the mayor and his family.”
The light faded from the sky. In the distance two cats yowled. Their hisses and howls attracted the attention of several dogs. A chorus of barking erupted in the night air. The animals didn’t know Chane was a prisoner. They didn’t know how desperately we needed to keep the combine running. They didn’t know the emotions that raced through me. All they knew was their own instincts. Would life be easier that way?
When we got back to my RV, the mayor was waiting for us along with Frank Miller and the Bull, Kurt. I dismounted, and Sawyer showed me how to hobble Fred. Once that was done, I removed her saddle and let Sawyer show me the right amount of oats to give her. No wonder Sawyer made us get such a large bag.
“I’m declaring a Town Emergency,” the mayor said to Sawyer “Your authority as a Forager is superseded until such time as the emergency is over, namely, the safe return of my daughter.”
This was new. I’d never heard of a Town Emergency before.
The mayor looked at Sawyer and said, “Dillon is not leaving town tomorrow. He will return the stores he was given and report to the orchard at first light. You are to take yourself to the infirmary and remain under the care of Dr. White until your wound is healed. Kurt here will escort you and make sure you arrive safely.”
No! I screamed in my head. A house falling on me couldn’t have flattened me more than the mayor’s words. I wanted to argue, fight, kick…something. This wasn’t fair. I looked to Sawyer. All he did was raise an eyebrow.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea? You realize that by pinning Dillon here, no one will be able to locate the alternator for your harvester? It’s not like you’ll have help coming from the city. Even your Town Emergency doesn’t extend beyond its borders.”
“I know the governor’s laws as well as you do, Forager. Tell them, Frank.”
Frank frowned. “We’re putting together a crew to start harvesting by hand. The mayor wanted Dillon on it, but I thought it would be better to keep him closer to town. It’ll be easier to keep an eye on him.” Frank’s eyes shifted from Sawyer, to me, and back, like he was giving instructions.
Sawyer seemed thoughtful as he studied Frank. He said, “If that’s what you want, I won’t fight you. I have a request, though. Would it be possible for me to leave my horse with Dillon? I’m not going to be able to take care of her if I’m cooped up in the infirmary.”
The mayor nodded his approval.
Frank continued, “I don’t think that’ll be a problem. You do realize that Dillon will be working long hours and won’t be able to spend a lot of time with your mare?”
“He’ll be able to spend more time with her than I will.” Sawyer gave a pointed look to the mayor. “Besides, Dillon is the only one in this town I trust to do it.”
My spirits lifted marginally at his vote of trust, but quickly faded with the disappointment of having my mission cancelled.
“Shall we go, then?” Kurt sneered.
“Hold on—I’ve left some things inside. I’d like to have them with me. Dillon, if you’d help me?” Sawyer pointed at my RV.
He clambered out of the wheelchair. Lending him a shoulder, we staggered into the RV.
Inside, Sawyer tightened his grip on my shoulder, turned me so we were face-to-face, and said, “We don’t have much time, so listen close. That man, Frank, he doesn’t like what the mayor’s doing. I think Frank’s right, but you have to make up your own mind. I’ve left you Fred. You can take the rifle, pistol and bow, and I’ll leave you this.” He took off the wide-brimmed green hat with the silver clover insignia and handed it to me. “It’s your choice to use them or not.”
I’d seen the looks that passed between Frank and Sawyer. I’d seen how easily Sawyer could read me. Was he reading Frank the same way? Was he right?
Sawyer quickly gathered his wires and bulbs. He packed them in his saddlebags while I hid the hat in a cupboard. “Are…are you sure this is what Frank means?”
He hesitated for a moment before answering. “As sure as I can be. When we go back out, pay attention to Frank. He might do or say something to confirm my suspicions.”
“Don’t you at least want to keep the pistol?”
“What for? Even if I had bullets for it, the firing pin’s busted. That pistol is only good for threats.”
I helped him back outside and into the wheelchair. Neither the mayor nor Kurt noticed Sawyer’s missing hat. Frank did. His eyes got big and round. He stayed quiet, though.
The mayor pointed Kurt to the handles on the back of the wheelchair. “We’re done here. Let’s go.”
Frank held up a hand. “One moment please. There’s something Dillon needs to know. In case he has any thoughts about not doing as he’s told.”
Shooting one deer made me the town delinquent?
The mayor’s eyes got hard and sharp. “Yes, he should know. Please continue.”
“Dillon,” Frank said, “in a Town Emergency the mayor has absolute authority. Going against his wishes could result in banishment.” Frank looked at Fred then back at me. Once again, his eyes were saying something different than his words. This time he was saying them to me. I was positive Sawyer was right, but what was I going to do?
Sawyer raised a hand in farewell as Kurt pushed him off into the fading light. Frank and the mayor followed. None of them looked back.
My RV was too empty and too quiet. Taking out Sawyer’s hat, I stared at it a long time before placing it on my head. It was heavier than I expected, but not uncomfortable. In fact, I liked the solidity of it.
I trudged into the bathroom where a mirror hung over the sink. The wide brim of the hat hid my bangs and cast a dark shadow o
ver my face. It made me look older. I liked that too.
Back in the living room, I sat on the couch, tracing the hat’s clover insignia with my finger. What was Chane doing right now? Was she tied up against a tree somewhere? Had she been given anything to eat? To drink? Those questions led me in one direction. How could I best help her?
I could pretend I hadn’t seen the look Frank gave me. Report to the orchard tomorrow morning and pick apples like the mayor wanted. Climbing trees was easy enough, but how was one more set of hands picking apples going to help Chane?
Following Frank’s unspoken directions could lead to banishment. Would the townsfolk think I’d abandoned them? Would Chane? I choked down a scream of frustration. Was either choice the right one?
Standing up, I paced the room. Night fell upon me in my brooding. The walls of the RV closed in. I escaped outside and quickly realized the caged feeling was caused by more than just being in the RV.
Fred whinnied softly from over where I’d hobbled her. I wondered if horses experienced emotions. Did Fred know indecision? Could she feel mine? I rubbed the white hair on her forehead.
Too many thoughts chased themselves through my head. The mayor wanted me to do one thing, Frank and Sawyer another. The easy choice was to stay and do what the mayor wanted. The one that ensured I would always have a place to call my own. The one that could someday mean I’d have a chance to be with Chane.
But easy and safe wasn’t what I wanted. I longed to be out past the fields, searching abandoned buildings and discovering their treasures. I could help this town and, yes, be a hero.
The alternator was the key. A working combine could harvest at night, all night. The lights worked. They’d been on at last year’s harvest festival. No one liked working at night, not even the horses that pulled the grain wagons, but it was a better solution than having a whole slew of people trudging through the fields.
“What should I do, Fred?”
She dropped her head to the grass to graze. What did I expect, answers from a horse?
My fingers encountered a few burrs in Fred’s coat. I’d forgotten to groom her. I searched the saddlebags for a brush.
The darkness of the night made it hard to identify the contents of the bags without touching them. The first bag held the cordless drill and voltage meter, along with an assortment of wires and tools. The next two held food, one for Sawyer and one for Fred. More tools were in a fourth, fifth, and sixth. Finally, I found the brush in the second to last bag. I peeked in the final bag. It held my sack of food. The one Millie had filled for me earlier.
Tossing the brush back in its bag, I started to saddle Fred. Seeing that bag of food was like looking truth in the face. Millie packed it clear full. There was way more food in there than I would ever eat in three days. I realized that more was the answer for the Scavengers, for the town, for the quotas. Finding that alternator was the only way to insure that everyone got what they wanted.
Chapter Thirteen
It was dark and Sawyer wasn’t there to guide me, so saddling Fred took a whole lot longer than I’d counted on. I knew I got it right, because after I attached the saddlebags and mounted, I wasn’t upside down between her legs.
Sawyer’s hat was in my hands. The silver clover glowed in the moonlight. I understood the symbol. It was a way to inform, a mark of authority, even a warning. Placing the hat on my head made the world right.
With a soft squeeze of my legs, Fred headed us out. My thighs ached from the earlier riding, but this was my one chance. I couldn’t wait until morning and risk being seen. We needed to be several miles out before anyone realized we were gone.
I steered Fred onto the softer turf of the lawns. I didn’t want the clump, clump of her hooves on the asphalt giving us away. Cringing and holding my breath every time we crossed a street, I held her to a walk, but it proved futile.
“I thought you were in the infirmary. Why are you sneaking away?”
It was Josh Mason. Of all the people I could have come across, why did it have to be him?
What was he doing roaming around after dark? Not that it mattered—he’d found me, and unless I thought of something quick, I wouldn’t make it out of town.
“Hey Forager, I’m talking to you! Maybe you don’t remember, but I’m the mayor’s son. You better answer me, or I’ll have my dad and his enforcers down here.”
He’d mistaken me for Sawyer! I didn’t have Sawyer’s no-nonsense, don’t-mess-with-me panache, but if I wanted to get farther than three blocks from my RV, I was going to have to fake it.
My heart thumped against my ribcage, the beat fast enough I thought my chest might explode. The night hid my tell-all face, which was surely beet red or ghost white. I had a plan, but could I really pull it off?
Reaching for Sawyer’s pistol, the one he pointed at Kurt, the one that didn’t have any bullets, the one that didn’t even work, I made my voice as coarse and deep as possible. “Move or I’ll put a bullet in ya.” The ratcheting of the hammer being cocked was as crisp and satisfying out here in the open as it had been back in my RV.
I’m almost positive it wasn’t my voice that convinced him. Josh held his hands up in front of his face. “All right, fine, but my father’s gonna hear about this.”
An insult about him running off to his daddy sat on my lips. Luckily, my brain engaged and pushed the slur back down. This act contained one more scene. To be Sawyer, I needed to ride off and keep my mouth shut.
Leaving Josh behind, I nudged Fred into a walk. Again, riding her in the yards as much as possible. My heart rate slowed and I released a heavy breath. I’d gotten away with it. I forced myself not to turn around. Sawyer wouldn’t have.
After two long blocks of locking my eyes on the next house in line, the pull from behind was too great. The crescent moon only cast its glow a few hundred yards behind me, and Josh was nowhere in sight.
Block after block, Fred and I skulked through town. We saw no one. Still, Josh’s threat to tell his father worried me. Maybe pointing a gun at him hadn’t been smart, but it was the only thing that had come to mind. I smiled, calm enough now to savor it. For the first time ever, I’d bullied him. The fact that he thought I was Sawyer dampened the effect, but my smile never faltered.
My heels twitched, but I resisted the urge to gallop to safety.
It probably didn’t take any longer than normal, but it felt like a century before Fred and I reached the outskirts of town. My thighs were killing me, but we were still close enough for a search party to find us. I couldn’t stop yet.
Fred followed the faded yellow stripe down the middle of the asphalt road. Out here, beyond the town and all its buildings and trees, the scant moonlight allowed me to see the road ahead for perhaps a quarter of a mile. Not that there was anything to look at. The dark road and the cornfields that rose up on either side numbed my brain.
We’d just passed a crossroad, and I wanted to do one more mile before we stopped. Out here, outside of town, I could figure on every crossroad marking off another mile, which meant getting to the next one. It would be farther than any search party would come. In sympathy for the horse, I stopped and climbed off. My legs hurt, but a soft snort from Fred told me she appreciated my weight being off her back.
Holding her reins, I continued walking. After about a hundred yards, my legs were protesting. My butt hurt, and a headache covered the back of my skull. I kept going. One stride after another I continued, and Fred followed.
To put my mind off the pain in my legs, I thought about why the Governor made it illegal for anyone but Foragers to search outside of town. Everyone said it was because of the Scavengers, but I wondered if it was more to do with keeping the towns under each mayor’s thumb. A short while later, we arrived at a gravel crossroad. A run-down farmhouse stood on one corner, a tree growing through its roof. No chance of spending the night there.
Turning east onto a dirt lane, we walked up a hill. A few trees bordered the road here and there, and the dim outline o
f fence posts led on into the distance. A few night sounds punctuated the quiet, but the loudest noise was the crunch, crunch of gravel under Fred’s hooves
I kept an eye out for a house or barn where Fred and I could spend the night in comfort. What we found a quarter of a mile further on was completely unexpected and completely perfect, or so I first thought.
I had no name for the type of house. There was a small patio, a front door, and beside it three narrow windows. The rest of the house was built into a hill that served as a roof. Large metal outbuildings, big enough to hold a combine, flanked it. Despite my fatigue, the sight of those outbuildings had my blood pumping. Sleep would have to wait.
Fred and I went up the gravel drive and headed straight for a small concrete pad between the house and shed. There was a pipe sticking up out of the pad with a handle on the end. It looked exactly like the water pump kids played with in the town park.
I pulled the handle and the sound of water gurgling in the pipes was soon followed by a torrent of water splattering the concrete pad, myself, and Fred. Lowering the handle to slow the stream, I cupped my hands, and leaned over for a drink.
Spitting, spluttering, coughing, and gagging, I choked the water from my mouth and throat. A sickly-sweet metallic taste accompanied small pieces of gunk that stuck to my tongue.
In the daylight, I’d have noticed the brownish-orange of the water. I’d seen water that color when I first moved from my parents’ house into the RV. The tap on the side of our house hadn’t been used in years. After I’d hooked the garden hose up, it took a bit for the pipes to clear of rust and for clean water to flow through.
Moving Fred back a few steps, I opened the tap so that the water was once again gushing at full force. Letting it run, I counted to one hundred. This time the water tasted fresh and clean, washing the awful taste of rust out my mouth.
I filled Fred’s nosebag with water, and rather than use the leather strap to attach it over her head, I held it in my hands. She drank easily from the bag, and before she was done I refilled it twice. She seemed sated, but I didn’t know her, or any horse, well enough to know for sure.