Wolfwater

by Alia Hess

  “I don’t know if it would be worth the risk to talk to her, even if we did figure out how to get her alone. She didn’t seem all that nice.”

  Dusty leaned back, resting her hands on a chunk of concrete. “Weird to me that a mixed race woman is working to capture other mixed race kids to take to Hammerlink. She’s probably a slave too. Once an orphan turns fifteen, their Boss has to start paying them a wage or let them go. I bet you anything that glass-eyed merchant is her Boss, and she doesn’t want to be doing this, despite how she acted.” She frowned and sighed. “I’d volunteer to talk to her, but you know what Gentlewave would say. And this is going to sound stupid, but thinking about this whole motherhood thing and protecting my baby makes me want to stay as far away from that wagon as possible. It’s like I’m afraid of the baby getting tainted with shit from my old life—Hammerlink and slavery and Bosses.”

  “I don’t think that’s stupid. And staying away from that wagon is a good idea, but we can mention it to Gentlewave. I see him coming back now.”

  A dark shape had materialized out of the orchard, walking briskly in their direction. Mothwing stood, wringing his hands. When Gentlewave approached, Mothwing hugged him. “So what did you see?”

  “Well, this might be a bit easier than we thought. There’s only one guard—”

  “One? I thought that farmer said there were two.”

  Gentlewave shrugged. “I only saw one. And I kind of doubt the other was in the back of the wagon. It seemed pretty crowded back there for the second that I saw the inside. I didn’t see the kids, so they must all be in the back in those cages. The wagon is pulled by two bulls, and there are seats up front for two people to sit, probably the merchant and the woman.”

  “So what do we do?” Dusty asked.

  “I think that guard is the biggest threat, but the merchant seems like a conniving bastard and he probably has no qualms about shooting someone. Our best bet is to wait until they go to sleep, and then grab whoever is keeping watch. Dorhn’li and I can do that. Right, Dorhn’li?”

  The Maralti grinned. “Yeah. Ah c’n sneak’n grab’m.”

  “Good. If we’re quiet, it will be better for everyone because we can jump the other two while they’re still asleep. If we’re noisy and they wake up… we’ll have to start shooting people.”

  “Owl and I think we should try to talk to the woman. She’s probably a slave who doesn’t want to be here,” Dusty said.

  “Well, we can talk to her after she’s tied up and no longer a threat. I don’t want to shoot anyone if we can help it.” He looked toward the farmhouses. “The wagon’s moving. Let’s go.”

  Dusty grunted and pushed herself up. They followed the embankment, keeping out of view until the hill leveled out. After walking through the orchard, they passed the first farmhouse, scanning the horizon. Two more homesteads sat back from the road, but oddly, the wagon wasn’t stopped in front of either of them. Maybe the merchant sent Brandy door-to-door to see if people were home and interested.

  Gentlewave stayed slightly ahead, assuring them several times that he could still see the wagon far up the road. Owl and Dusty lagged at the rear. Dusty insisted she was fine, just tired, but she walked slowly, face drawn as she munched on a mealcake.

  Stands of aspen grew in clusters in weed-riddled fields, and asparagus flourished by the roadway. Vultures drifted overhead, settling onto the sunken roof of an abandoned house. A dozen cars sat out front, slowly rusting into the earth.

  Gentlewave, Dorhn’li, and Mothwing walked farther ahead, the distance between them and Owl growing greater. She wanted Dusty to quicken her pace, but she also knew how energy-taxing being pregnant was.

  “I know what you need,” Owl said as Dusty yawned. “Red meat. And spinach.”

  “Why?” Dusty asked.

  “You need extra iron for the baby. I needed it too when I was pregnant. The doctor looked at the inside of my eyelids”—she pulled down one bottom lid—“and said they were too pale. Told me I needed more iron. If you don’t have enough it makes you really tired and cranky. Cold too.”

  “I could go for a big bloody steak right now… Also, I have to pee.”

  Owl chuckled. She called to the guys ahead, “Pee break!”

  Owl followed Dusty toward the aspens. She slipped between the trees, wading through high, brittle bushes, then relieved herself. She returned to the road to wait for Dusty, then took off her pack and checked inside. Several large strips of jerky sat in the outer pocket. It wasn’t a steak, but might give Dusty some energy all the same.

  How long did it take that girl to pee? Owl headed back for the trees. “Dusty, you done?”

  The sound of crunching brush made her turn around. Merriweather stood before her, a grin on his face and his hands in the pockets of his tweet jacket. “Hi there.”

  Owl gasped and pulled out her knife. The merchant shook his head and produced a pistol from his waistband, pointing it at her. “I win, sweetheart.”

  Her heartbeat crashed in her ears, and her stomach clenched. “What the hell are you doing? Where’s Dusty?”

  “Your friend? Man, she’s a feisty one. She can’t be more than five feet, but she kicks like a full grown heifer. Bart’s keeping her company. We’re gonna keep you company too. C’mon.” He flicked his gun in the direction of the trees. When Owl didn’t move, he grabbed her by the arm, pocketing her knife and yanking her into the aspens.

  “I—I don’t understand this. Who’s driving your wagon? Why are you—”

  “Uh-huh. Just what I thought. You guys are following us.”

  “Shit.”

  “Yep. Shit is right.” Merriweather’s milky glass eye stared through her as his brown one locked on. “Is this about that little blonde girl? Sara? The one with heterochromia?” He jerked her through the weeds. “No. It can’t be. When we found her, she was half-starved and living in a barn. We checked out the homestead, but her junkie parents had died quite some time ago judging by the decay. I saw an opportunity to help her. She was a bit of a kindred spirit, as I have heterochromia too. Or did.” He pointed to his blue glass eye. “Want to know how I lost it?”

  Owl spit in his face. “Let me and Dusty go.”

  The merchant shut his eyes and wiped the spittle away with a handkerchief from his breast pocket. “Do you really think spitting on me is going to persuade me?”

  “No, but it felt good to do it.”

  Merriweather chuckled. “Fair enough. And to answer your question, my lovely wife, Brandy, is driving the wagon. Bart and I doubled back after I spotted your Islander friend spying on us back by that farmhouse.”

  Owl sighed. Gentlewave had gotten too close.

  “What I can’t figure out is why, though. Why spy on us? Is it about the Maralti kids?” He shrugged. “I didn’t think anyone would miss them. But the one boy, Auth’ni, did say his father was an Islander. He came with us voluntarily, you know.”

  Owl scowled as she stumbled through the weeds. “I’m sure he wouldn’t have had he known what was in store for him.”

  “Mm. Yes, that is most certainly true. But he shouldn’t have stabbed Angus with a letter opener and tried to escape with Sara. Angus overreacted by shooting them both in the back, though. Completely unnecessary.”

  Owl quivered, her knees suddenly weak. “Auth’ni’s dead?”

  Merriweather grinned. “Sorry to give you the bad news, but the only kid we’ve got with us now is Jon’kin… and the precious little babe growing in your friend.”

  Owl growled and lunged at Merriweather, clawing his face. He cracked his pistol against the side of her head and she crumpled, mind dazed and pain pulsing in her skull. The wolfman hauled her up, dragging her along.

  Auth’ni’s dead. We can’t complete the mission.

  Merriweather jerked her by the arm, his fingers digging into her flesh.

  Corvin and Sasha can’t leave Tam, and Dusty and I will be lying in shallow graves with asparagus growing on top of us.

&nbs
p; Son of Owl’s little face entered her mind and she sobbed. She’d never see him again. She’d never see Trav again. And Dusty would never get to meet her baby. Unless Merriweather kept Dusty alive long enough for her to give birth, then sold her child in Hammerlink.

  Owl stumbled, landing on her knee, the trees around her melting in her teared vision.

  Dusty’s worst fear coming true was somehow worse than thinking about being dead, and she wanted curl into a ball on the ground and stay that way until the world ended.

  Merriweather hauled her back to her feet, his gun jabbing her in the side.

  I can’t do this. I need Trav. I need Trav’s big, safe presence. He’d snap this shyster like a twig. I can’t do anything. I can’t—

  Trav’s words entered her mind: There’s strength inside you, darling. You don’t need me to hold you up.

  Owl straightened and clenched her jaw. Everyone needs me. I’ll worry about the repercussions of the failed escort mission later. There’s no way I’m going to let this shithead turn Dusty and Sasha’s baby into an orphan.

  “Why take us?” Owl’s voice came out fuzzy, her head pounding. “Why not just shoot us all?”

  Merriweather shrugged, beads of blood trailing down his cheek where she’d scratched him. “Well, we’ve got a couple of empty cages now and I’m nothing if not opportunistic. I can’t sell you to the rich snobs in Hammerlink, but I’m sure there are some highwaymen along the way that would like you.”

  Owl gritted her teeth and blinked back tears. “What about my ‘Islander friend?’”

  “Too much of a hassle to capture. We’ll just shoot him if he comes looking for you.”

  So he doesn’t know about Dorhn’li and Mothwing. Probably best to keep it that way.

  The guard, Bart, stepped out from around a tree, Dusty draped over his shoulder. She lay limp, her wrists bound and head dangling.

  “What did you do?” Owl lurched from Merriweather’s grip, heedless of the gun trained on her. She ran to Dusty, pushing up her slack face. Sticky blood ran from her nose and down her lips and the beginnings of a bruise bloomed around her eye.

  “Relax,” Bart said. “I only hit her a couple of times. She kept kicking me. Bit me too.”

  “She’s pregnant, you son of a bitch!” Owl slapped the guard and he caught her arm as she pulled back to do it again.

  Merriweather sighed. “I’m quite peeved that I’m going to have to carry one of you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He cracked the butt of his gun against Owl’s head and she sank to the ground.

  15

  ~ The Cult ~

  “Sasha. Sasha. Wake up. It’s okay. You’re okay.”

  The voice felt like it came from far away, carried on the breeze, but the soft, dulcet cadence soothed his racing heart and he opened his eyes.

  A woman peered at him in concern, her amber eyes magnified dramatically through thick lenses in a wire frame. “It’s okay. You were having a bad dream.”

  He frowned. Soft sunlight splashed through an open window in the small room, brightening the dark wood paneling. He lay on a bed in nothing but his underwear, blankets swaddling him, with one leg exposed to the chill.

  Sasha turned his attention back to the woman, taking in her olive skin, dark blunt bangs, and black dress as she pushed her big glasses up her nose.

  She smiled at him. “Hi, Sasha.”

  “I know you. I have talked to you with drone. You are… Anise. Leader of Cult of Sasha.”

  “I prefer founder of The Followers of Sasha, but yes.”

  He glanced around the room again. How did he get here? He remembered shivering and being delirious, and people whispering his name and crying. Some of them touched him and others shied away. They’d argued about whether or not he was really a god, and whether he was really Sasha at all.

  “I am in Burr?”

  “No.” Anise dabbed his forehead with a damp cloth. “We’re in a little town near Conch. Broken Metro. A fishing boat picked up you and your friend—”

  “Corvin!” Sasha sat up. “Where is he? Is he okay?”

  “Yes, he’ll be okay. I just checked on him. He’s asleep in the next room. He has a broken leg, but he should recover just fine. You can talk to him in a bit if you want. I didn’t know what state you were both in when I got here, so I had the followers put you in separate rooms in case you needed privacy.”

  Sasha sank back onto the bed. “Broken leg. Shit.” He rubbed a sore spot on his bicep, discovering a large bruise. Scrapes climbed his forearms.

  “Corvin was in good spirits when I talked to him. Told me all about the beach you guys were stuck on. Seemed very happy not to be there anymore.”

  Sasha sighed contentedly, burrowing a little deeper into the soft pillows and closing his eyes. “I am happy about that too.”

  “Swept out to sea is a rough way to get out of a detainment center, though. You had a fever, but I think it’s broken.” Anise pressed the cloth to his forehead again. “A fisherman found you and Corvin adrift after the storm and brought you here. Our church is the closest thing to a medical facility in this area. I encouraged the members to get some medical training because I thought that would be a good way to help people.” She let out a little giggle. “When the followers realized that one of the men they were caring for was Sasha, they sent for me right away. Some of them also fainted, cried, and left in disgust because ‘gods don’t bleed.’”

  Sasha scoffed. “Yeah, I kind of remember that. But I told you few times now that I am not really god.”

  “Yes, I know. And I’ve told them that too, but the belief runs deep.”

  “Was storm bad? It wasn’t, like, hurricane that destroy islands or something, right? Everybody okay?” What if there isn’t a home to go back to?

  “I asked the fisherman that and he said most of the storm activity was centered at the edge of Tam, then it took a different direction. I’m sure the weather on the other islands was bad, but I don’t think it did near the damage it did where you were at.”

  Sasha sighed in relief. Hopefully that was true.

  Voices drifted from somewhere outside and Anise frowned. “Quite a few of the followers want to talk to you and ask you questions, but I’ve turned them away. Some of them are still hanging around outside. I think it’s better if just I take care of you right now.” Anise touched his exposed leg, her fingers running over the bare skin of his inner thigh.

  He pushed back into the pillows. “Whoa. Listen, Anise, you are cute woman. You look good in those glasses, but I am married man and you got your hands way too close to my love machine.”

  Anise jerked her hands back. She looked up, mouth parted and a bright pink flush in her cheeks. “I’m—I’m sorry, Sasha, but I have to clean your wound and change the dressing.”

  “What wound?”

  She swallowed and looked away. “You don’t remember? You have a cut on the inside of your thigh. I was changing the bandages when you started screaming. I thought I was hurting you, but then I realized you were having a nightmare.”

  Sasha lay back, vomit rising in his throat. I don’t know what I was dreaming about, but I could take a wild guess. “Sorry. I did not know I was hurt there. Is it bad?”

  Anise kept her hands in her lap. “No, but I don’t want it to get infected. I, uh, I guess I could get someone else to do it if I make you uncomfortable”—her burning cheeks told him she was the one now uncomfortable—“but most of the others are afraid to touch a ‘god.’”

  “No, baby. It’s okay. You can do for me. Thank you.”

  Anise touched his thigh again, hesitantly, and tilted his leg outward. She soaked a cloth with the contents of a small glass bottle and pressed it to his skin. Tiny needles of pain radiated from the area and he sucked in a breath.

  “Sorry.” She removed the cloth, then affixed a bandage to his thigh. A coy smile curled her lips and she giggled.

  “What is funny?”

  She shook her hea
d and looked away. “It’s just… well, you have very strange taste in underwear.”

  He pulled away the bedsheets to look, forgetting what he was wearing. A blue popsicle graced the front of his bright yellow briefs.

  “You don’t like eskimo? I don’t know word in American. Maybe you don’t got here. It is ice dessert, yeah? It’s good. You lick it.”

  Anise’s eyes widened and the flush in her cheeks grew brighter.

  He waggled his eyebrows. “Bet you didn’t think conversation with your god would be like this, huh?”

  “I’m all done.” Anise stood and turned away.

  Sasha drew his leg into the sheets, wincing at the throb of pain it created in his thigh. “I’m sorry. You don’t got to leave. I tease my wife all the time too. Like to make her cheeks red. It’s adorable, but she hates it. She is going to punch me one of this days.”

  He automatically touched his chest to feel his photo of Dusty, then realized it was lost in the ocean somewhere. Losing that shred of her overwhelmed him, and a tight lump formed in his throat.

  It was only a picture. In a few weeks, I’ll be with her again in person.

  Anise looked at the floor. “I’m not going to faint on you like some of the others, but I’m… unnerved to be in your presence. I know you’re not a god, and I’ve talked to you several times, but never in person. And you’ve been such an inspiration. I don’t think you have any idea how much your church has spread. I know you didn’t mean to create a following when you assassinated Winter and those other slavers, but you saved my aunt and countless other people. You’re a hero to me—I mean—to us.”

  “I think you are more hero for these people than me. You are one that start church and tell people to be helpful and take care of each other. I think should be Cult of Anise.”

  She giggled and shook her head, then gestured to a pitcher of water on an end table by the bed. “I left some water for you there, and I’m going to go get you some food. When Corvin is awake, I’ll let you know.”

  “Hang on. I, er, need to pee, but don’t know if I can walk by myself to toilet with my injury. Don’t even know where it is. You can help me?”