“I certainly hope so,” David answered. He turned to leave as the boy walked back toward his cabin again. Whirling, he posed one final question to the dark survivor who had been born in the new world. “What’s your name?”
The boy turned his head and answered over his shoulder. “No name.”
The boy vanished into the abyss of his cabin.
David spent the rest of the sunlit hours by the main fire, helping an old man crush roots and tubers into powder to be used for making some poor excuse for bread. His hands were by the fire but his thoughts remained at the cabin set apart from the others. He could not stop thinking about the boy with no name, no family, no idea what life was all about. The boy who had been born into this world, this world after, with no idea about what life was like when survival was not the foremost thought in every mind, with no one to even tell him about it. This boy who had been crippled by the interminable winter, his words, his actions primitive, ancient. Human life void of humanity.
“Is that what we have become?” David asked himself. Could we regress that far? Would we ever make it back?
CHAPTER 34
It was later in the day, when the clouds had swallowed up all the stray beams of longed-for light and the world resumed its gray composure, that Mitch returned to the Outliers’ camp. With the news David received from Elizabeth, he was expecting a smoldering Mitch to return, angry and doubtful, as David was himself. But the man who came strolling through the trees to take his place by the fire was not withdrawn or sulky. He looked almost…cheerful. He sauntered in, tail wagging and ears erect like someone had spent the day scratching his belly.
David waited for Mitch to pass through the door to their shared cabin then rose and shot like an arrow toward it himself. Mitch was shrugging off his nicest shirt, a pale green flannel that had survived this long without a single hole that David could see, when David came crashing through the door.
“Where were you?” Was Mitch actually humming? It sounded like a happy tune.
“Hey David,” he replied without turning from his meager wardrobe contained in a duffle bag at the end of his bed. “I was just at the Base.”
“How did it go?” David tried to keep his voice flat, but it was hard. Everything should be changing, but was it?
“It went pretty well. It’s been a while, but the Mayor finally let me in to see him.” He turned and smiled at David. This was not his ‘you’re about to die’ smile, nor was it the ‘I just had a genius idea’ smile. This was a queer one—joy? “Things are falling right into place, my old friend. It’s just a matter of time.”
“Just a matter of—” David’s face contorted with confusion. “What do you mean, just a matter of time?”
“I mean we’re getting close, Dave.” He dropped his voice down to a whisper and leaned closer to David. “Our numbers are almost down enough. We’re so close. The Mayor says the harvest wasn’t quite as great as he was expecting, and we may have to wait a little longer but—”
“Mitch,” David interrupted. He could not contain himself anymore, “did the Mayor say anything about the man who died?”
“Died?” Mitch’s brow knitted together, but not in concern. “What, one of ours?”
“No, I mean the man in the Base.”
“David, what are you talking about?” Mitch laughed. He sobered suddenly and narrowed his eyes. “How would you even know if someone died in there?”
David chose to ignore the question. “Really, Mitch, someone from the Base was killed, and,” he hushed himself to a whisper, “they’re not happy about it.”
“Dave, old buddy, no one in there died. Believe me, it’s not possible.”
“What do you mean, ‘not possible’?”
Mitch sighed heavily. His voice resumed the hushed tone. “I made sure.”
Now it was David’s turn to raise an eyebrow.
“Well, when I couldn’t convince them not to go, I couldn’t let them actually get in,” Mitch explained. “Someone might get hurt. Better the ones with guns in their hands and murder on their breath die than those sleeping soundly in their beds.”
David felt he could not argue with the logic behind that statement. But he had to. “Mitch, someone told me—”
“Who told you, David?” Mitch took a step forward so their noses were nearly touching. “Who are you talking to in there?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Maybe it does,” Mitch growled. “They don’t want us in there, David, not most of them. They know it’s a risk, and believe you me, safety far outweighs risk when you’re back’s against a wall and your next meal might never come. David, you’ve got to be careful who you trust in there.”
“Mitch, don’t worry, I’m sure they wouldn’t lie about this.”
Mitch stood, shirtless, his face a pale shadow above the darkness of his hairy frame, glaring at David. He sighed. “Fine, I’ll humor you. So who died?” he asked resignedly.
“Er—” David realized he should have found out this little piece of information before trying to use it.
“Who was it, David?” Mitch raised his voice. “You don’t know, do you? What, they just said that someone died? Dammit, David, I don’t need this right now. We’re close, we’re so fucking close. Don’t throw a stick in the spokes now, all right?” He turned and ripped a shirt out of his bag. “Have you told anyone else about this?” he asked.
“No, I was waiting to talk to you.”
“Good. Now you’ve talked to me. If I hear anyone else talking about this, worrying and doubting our cause because of some rumor you heard from your inside man…” he trailed off, leaving David to imagine the punishment. David left the tent, wishing, not for the last time, that he was still alone in his valley.
“So now you all can see that the time is near. Our patience is being rewarded. They’re taking stock of the harvested goods, and I’m going back to meet with the Mayor in two days. Then we will know for sure if there is a place for us in the Base.”
Mitch took his seat next to Mort as his speech came to an end. David was on his left, though he was unsure if he really wanted the spot anymore. Mitch was telling the Outliers about his meeting with the Mayor, about how much the Mayor appreciated their refraining from raiding in the recent past, and the positive attitude he held for their potential union. David was growing less and less sure of that, and he didn’t seem to be the only one.
There were a few new faces around the fire tonight. They were dark-skinned, heavy-set men with flannel shirts and steel-toed boots. They set David’s heart beating fast with fear, if he were completely honest with himself, and he doubted he was the only one. Mort seemed to be the only one of the Outliers who would be able to contest their strength, the rest of the survivors withering from hardship. But there was only one Mort, and there were three of these brawlers. Mitch welcomed them ‘back’ when he saw them coming. David wondered if they were one of the fringe groups who had smaller camps in the woods around the Base. David had no time to find out, though.
They argued with Mitch for a while before the meeting, then guffawed and smirked through the speech. When everyone was headed back to their cabins and tents, David spied Mitch heading off to speak with them. David followed, curious to see Mitch’s diplomacy tactics in action. He wondered if Mitch would be able to sway these mountains, but stranger things had certainly happened.
Slinking across the mat of crisp needles on the ground, David arrived to the place outside the camp where Mitch had led the large strangers to talk to them, though he was apparently late to the party. He crept in as close as he dared, pressing his body against the rough bark of an old pine, and listened.
“—think you can do it on your own?”
“We’ll do what needs to be done. You’re right. We’ve waited long enough.”
“I won’t doubt you, then. You look terrifying, that’s for sure. But you really think you can get to him?”
“You’ll find out in the morning, won’t you?”
/> A muffled, familiar laugh answered.
“I can’t wait to see. Just make sure you head to where the north and east walls meet. It looks like it’s heavily patrolled but the guards on that side are all new. It’s where we go in when we have to.”
“All right.”
“Just remember, you might be able to get in and get one man, but you’ll need the rest of us to bring all the food out of there.”
“Yes, we know. We’ll play along, little man.”
“Good luck.”
“No need for it.”
Feet shifted in the underbrush and David panicked as he realized they were leaving. Fortunately only one lone figure came back toward the camp, the rest echoing into the distance. David knew which one had gone back, and he wondered if he should be reassured. Mitch passed by David without noticing him there, and when he was gone, David slipped around the trunk and followed the men who were crashing through the woods, wondering how they hoped to get over the wall unseen when they made so much noise.
He followed them for a while, which was made easy thanks to the explosions of sound they set off through the night. After a while, though, when they neared the Base, the elephants seemed to disappear, replaced by mice, and David could scarcely follow their trail. He caught up with them after a moment, for they must have slowed down considerably to be so quiet. He could see phantom shadows flowing across the earth and followed at a distance, as far as he could while keeping them in sight.
It had sounded like Mitch was sending them on some sort of mission rather than talking them out of their violent intentions. David’s doubts of Mitch and his ability to make peace at the Base were mounting higher all the time. Perhaps he had tried to talk them out of it in the first place and David had just missed it? Maybe the mission was devised so he could direct them at the fortified part of the wall?
David’s pondering was cut short when the trees came to an abrupt end and the Base came into view. There were lots of scattered stumps on this side of the woods, leading all the way down to the wall. The break between the wall and the forest was no accident, it seemed. And the wall had to come from somewhere, after all.
The men were crouched behind a felled tree on the brink of the woods. They waited there for a few minutes, and David dared get no closer in case they heard him. After a while one motioned with his hand and the smallest one rose and sprinted for the wall, out of David’s sight. Another rose and followed, while the last hung back.
A gunshot tore through the still air, followed by a sharp cry and the pounding of boots on wood, loud enough that David could hear it from his perch several hundred feet away. A few more shots resounded and the man who had remained back threw himself deeper into the forest. Men came running from the Base, David could see them flitting through the long grass, rifles raised, shouting to each other. He did not know if he should move, or stay put. If they found him here they would certainly kill him on the spot, but a bullet in the back was no less deadly. They were headed away from him, so he froze and waited.
Eventually the sounds of pursuit died down and he was alone in the woods again. A wild urge to see what had happened bloomed within him and he made his way as slowly and carefully as he could to the fallen tree. As he came near, he saw the battlefield; fallen soldiers lying in the dirt and the two men who had tried their luck, which it looked like they could have used after all. One was slumped against the base of the wall, the other lying face down in the grass a stone’s throw from it. David could see pale faces crowded around the top of the wall, peering out in the direction the last lumberjack had run. As David scanned the wall, he saw no guards anywhere else, all of them were focused on this corner.
He rose and trotted off to the right, along the line of trees toward the front gate. When he was at a point closest to the wall, where there was a space of no more than a hundred feet from the closest tree and the wall, he made a mad dash, not completely sure what he was doing or why, and scrambled up the palisade and dropped over the other side, his coat catching on the tips of one of the logs making up the barrier. He lost his balance and fell in a crumpled heap on the inside.
There were no lights inside the Base and the buildings were little more than fuzzy shapes in the wan moonlight. He headed for the nearest one and threw his back against it. He stood there while his heart rate slowed and his breathing came under control. Clearly, it was not that hard to enter the Base, even with the ‘increased guard.’ He supposed that corner was the one place that was impenetrable, and thus the place Mitch had directed the raids. The Mayor must know all of Mitch’s plans, for he had to arrange a spot on the wall they could send the troublesome Outliers.
But could it be just that, a place to send the angry ones? Mitch had sent them off with a purpose, to bring back someone’s head. Was it the Mayor? Was he just riffing or did he really want the Mayor dead? What exactly was going on here David could not see, but the idea that there was a war going on and neither of the two sides would openly admit it had begun to creep into David’s consciousness, and again David felt he was on his own, with no one but himself to put an end to the madness.
He snuck around the building and caught sight of a shape that rose high above the others and zigzagged toward it, hoping the guards were busy watching outside the Base, with no eyes turned inward. Just as he was at the last building before the main house, he stopped and caught a glimpse of something moving by the door. They must have guards there, he realized, because that must be where just about everyone sleeps. He watched for a moment as the blur paced back and forth, barring David’s way. He cursed and thought about going back. He even turned and faced the wall and saw that the guards were returning to their posts. He could face the guards on the wall or the one by the door.
He scrambled around in the dirt and sparse grass for a rock, checked to make sure his revolver was still tucked into his pants, and turned to face the farmhouse.
CHAPTER 35
The rock crashed against the wood of a shack on the far side of the guard, sending a hollow echo through the air. He turned his head that direction. A second rock went thudding into the dirt on the far side of the shack. That made the guard turn his whole body. Raising his rifle to a ready position, he took a few steps toward the noise. That was all the time David needed to be around the back of the building, cutting through the night, a wraith shrouded in the welcome shadows of a moonless night.
He poked his head back around the side of the long farmhouse to take stock of the guard. He waited for what felt like hours for the man to return to his post at the door. A string of unintelligible curses tumbled from his mouth and he shook his head. His rifle sagged once more to his side, the butt planted in the dirt, the man leaned back against the wall of the farmhouse. Once he was sure the guard was there to stay, David crept to the back of the building.
The front doors of the farmhouse faced the main gate, which was on the south wall. Most of the buildings in the compound were in front of the main house, so the sentries on the wall were the only threat David had to worry about. He was sure that his wool coat and dusty pants would blend right in with the shadowy backdrop, but he stooped to grab some dirt off the ground and rub into the pale skin of his hands and face anyway. It would not do to be shot down now. And he would hate for the man with the finger on the trigger to feel the guilt of having doomed them all. That poor man. David had to help him out by staying out of sight.
He rose, flexing his hands as they cramped and stung from their reluctant contact with the near-frozen soil. He breathed what life he could back into them, as quietly as he could. They just grew damp and he gave it up.
The back wall of the house was dotted with windows, most of them on the first floor, a handful on the second. The one David needed to reach was on that floor, and he wondered how he was going to make it up that far. There were vines creeping up the side of the house, but they were brittle when David grabbed them, long dead but preserved in the embrace of the endless winter. Like so many of us, he thought
as he looked companionably at the lifeless plant in his palm.
He crept past one window, two, thinking the window he needed must be on the far side of the house. He crawled under the windows that were open and those with lights peeking through, on his hands and knees, once again feeling the warmth in his flesh drain out into the hungry earth. He was just rising to his feet when he heard a voice. Someone was whispering, though loud enough to slice through the still air. The words drifted from the next window. He put his back to the wall and leaned in to listen.
“—I swear I had more than one! Dammit, what good is that gonna do anyone?”
“Are you sure you checked the extra one under the mattress?”
“Of course I checked the extra. Empty. I can’t believe I’m down to one. Maybe I shouldn’t even bother going with them tomorrow. I’ll be useless.”
“But you have to go, dear. You heard what they said, they need every man. It’s life or death, Toby.”
“I know, I know. I’ll have to see if I can borrow an ax or something. At least god knows they must have less ammo than us.”
The shutters banged closed and David jumped. What did they need ammo for so badly? David wondered if they were training, fearing the Outliers might attack any day. They must be really worried, David thought, if they had already assigned more men to guard the wall at night, and now they were recruiting more.
He held his position until the light went out in that room and then got down on his belly to scrabble along the wall. The leg of his pants tore and he swore silently (though nearly aloud; these were his only pair). The skin of his knee kissed the ground now with every inch, and he promised it he would warm it when they were back at camp and safe. Satisfied, his knee carried him along until he was under the window that was a gateway to the girl he needed to see.
To rendezvous. Nothing more.
He said a prayer to whatever gods may be out there as he hoisted himself up onto the nearest windowsill. It was only a few inches wide, so thin he could not fit the full length of his fingers on the wood without pushing the shutters open. He thought about giving them a little tap, a little push, just to see if they would open inward, but decided he couldn’t risk it. What if it squeaked and someone awoke and threw open the shutters to see this filthy stranger (though they might recognize him from one of his gracious introductions) perched on their window, dirty-faced, clothes torn, blood dripping from one knee, the handle of a gun peeking out over the top of his waistband.
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