Horde r-3

by Ann Aguirre

  “I might be a better person now,” he said with a sigh, “but I’m not happier.”

  If his feelings hadn’t lain between us like a spike-filled trap, I would’ve hugged him. But things could never be so simple between us. Now that I understood what he wanted of me and I knew I’d never offer it, I couldn’t cuddle him like he was a brat in need of solace. He’d take it as encouragement and the cycle would start all over again. Maybe someday, like he’d said, we could be friends without all the complications. I’d hated the savage I met in the ruins but Stalker wasn’t that boy anymore, just as I wasn’t a pure Huntress. The world was a big place, full of wonders, and it had taught us both so many things. For his sake, I wished so many lessons hadn’t been hard, sad ones.

  “I am. Mostly.” I was also panicked and exhilarated by turns.

  “One thing I’ve wondered…”

  “What’s that?” I asked.

  “Why does it have to be you?”

  I wasn’t sure what he meant … and I said so.

  “You’re out here when you could be safe in Soldier’s Pond or Gaspard, even, if you hadn’t nearly started a riot. At any point, you could lay your weapons down. Nobody’s ordering you to fight anymore. So why? You seem so committed to making things better. And I don’t understand it.”

  The answer seemed obvious. “People go about their lives, trying to be small, hoping the Freaks will kill someone else, attack another town. How long does avoidance work until the whole world is drowning in blood? Somebody has to draw the line. And if not me, who?”

  It was a compulsion, I supposed. The idea of sitting idle while everything burned? I just couldn’t do it. It would end me to do nothing when I could fight. Maybe I wasn’t meant for a peaceful life, and I could accept that. My only regret would be if I didn’t manage to improve the world a little before I went.

  Stalker studied me with a mixture of emotions I couldn’t interpret. “We would’ve owned the ruins, you and me.”

  I didn’t dispute his assessment. In another life, I might’ve been queen of the gangs, as he’d envisioned, but never in one where I knew Fade. That, too, was an immutable truth.

  It was my turn to ask, “Why do you think there were no Freaks in your part of Gotham?”

  “I wondered that. You said they were down below with you, as long as you can remember. Maybe they started there. People died of sickness Topside in our territory, but we never ran across any Muties, not like we saw in other ruins on the way north.”

  “So you think the mutations happened belowground, and they were too dumb and weak to find their way out, at first?”

  He nodded. “Maybe. As they got smarter, they located the exits.”

  A sudden, chilling thought occurred to me. “Then that means the Freaks now swarming Gotham came from the enclaves, however long ago.”

  Stalker looked thoughtful. “You told us Wilson said the monsters were born of weapons they created in the old world. It was a disease first, and the … vaccine made it worse?”

  I nodded.

  “Well, we don’t know how sickness spreads. So maybe people went underground to hide, not knowing they already had it.”

  “It makes sense,” I admitted.

  That was scary and awful. I hated the idea that diseases could hide in your body and you’d seem perfectly healthy while giving the illness to friends and family. I preferred enemies you could fight. At least the old world, with its hidden perils, was long lost.

  And these days, the monsters came with claws and fangs, not in tins and bottles.

  Triumph

  Eventually the Freaks grew more cunning about their attacks. They came while we slept and in great numbers, but our traps maimed a good third of them, and we decimated the rest, first with death from the trees, and then in a hard-fought ground battles. Between skirmishes, we worked on improving the camp. And after the last fight, we went days without seeing a single monster. I took that as a good sign.

  “It’s working,” Fade said. “Word’s getting out and they’re starting to avoid these woods.”

  I hoped he was right.

  As time wore on, the air took on a familiar chill, and the sky overhead went pale on those odd moments when I glimpsed it through a tangle of tree limbs. Morrow trained Tegan daily, and she grew proficient with the staff. As I watched her drill, I thought she’d do well. Life had taught her to be brave and strong—that as long as she didn’t give up, there was no such thing as defeat. Which made her a fighter as well as a healer, and I envied her that. Sometimes I wondered what—and who—I would be without my blades.

  On days without combat, the rest of us sparred and scouted, tended the fire, enhanced the aerial defenses, set more traps, hunted, and cooked. The work wasn’t exciting, but it helped to have a routine, occasionally punctuated with violence. It had been two days since they’d attacked last, and I was starting to get restless when Stalker burst into the clearing.

  He was out of breath, which usually meant inbound monsters. But this time he wore another expression. “There’s someone on the way to camp. I’ve been watching for a while, and he’s negotiated all of our defenses. What should we do?”

  “He’s human?” Fade asked.

  “Definitely.”

  I made the decision swiftly. “Let him come. It’ll be a nice change to have company.”

  The scouts dogged the stranger’s steps until he found the clearing. The older man wore an amazed expression as he took in what we’d built: the platforms and pulleys, the nets and makeshift roof built across the top. We’d created a tiny town in the treetops, and I was proud of it. Tully didn’t smile when she spotted him; she occupied her usual perch and, if he made trouble, she would shoot him without a qualm.

  I recognized the fellow but couldn’t place where I’d seen him. He wore the raw skins and furs of one who made a living traveling the wilderness. All towns were glad to receive hides suitable for tanning. Along with other traders, trappers also played the role of messengers, carrying news from town to town.

  “You didn’t find us by chance,” I said.

  Fade stepped up beside me, then Stalker and Morrow flanked my other side. Part of me approved of this show of solidarity, but the other half was annoyed by the implication that I needed help dispatching one weathered old man, who killed animals for a living. I made mine battling something much more dangerous.

  “I did not,” the trapper admitted. “I’ve survived the wilderness for years and I didn’t manage by being careless. When I noticed the Muties veering away from here, I was curious … and concerned. Then there was that giant plume of smoke…”

  “You wondered what could be enough to frighten them away?” Morrow guessed.

  “Exactly so, young sir.” He assessed the camp in a glance. “And I also wonder what you hope to gain by claiming this stretch of wood.”

  That was a complicated question. He didn’t know about my big dreams or my larger failures. So I just leveled a hard look on him. “I reckon that’s our business. You’re welcome to our hospitality, provided you mean no harm, but our food and protection isn’t free.”

  The trapper looked interested then. “What do you propose? I can’t imagine you’re interested in these skins. With all the traps I spotted on the way in, you must know how to hunt.”

  “You must’ve learned some tricks over the years. So spend some time with my scouts. Teach them what you know, along with how you spotted our defenses and any tips you have for making them less visible.” I glanced at Stalker, asking with a silent brow whether he had anything to add to my offer.

  He responded with a slight shake of his head.

  “That’s fair,” the trapper answered, seeming pleased. “I’m John Kelley, by the way.”

  “Deuce. Nice to meet you.”

  We shook hands then, and out here, that was as good as a promise we wouldn’t try to kill each other. “Are you hungry?”

  “I could eat.”

  I fixed him a bowl of stew. For the mome
nt, it was quiet; the scouts currently in the field would warn us if they detected an imminent attack and surely Kelley would’ve mentioned it if he’d spotted any Freaks in the vicinity. In past weeks, we’d gotten good at quick response to incoming enemies.

  “Where did you come from?” Morrow asked.

  “Most recently, Gaspard. I had enough credit to board for a while. But then the chits ran out and I have to stock up on skins to afford a warm place to spend the winter.”

  That was where I’d seen him before. He had been part of the crowd watching the altercation with the guards. I felt better after I figured that out; it relieved the niggling suspicion that he’d come for some reason other than curiosity.

  “You’re in a dangerous line of work,” I observed.

  “Says the girl camped out in a Mutie-filled forest.” He had a point. “But I saw how you handled yourselves in town. You trying to keep the area clear?”

  I nodded. “It’ll be better for Soldier’s Pond if the Muties think this territory’s more trouble than it’s worth.”

  “That where you’re from?”

  “Some of us.” I didn’t bother to tell my real story.

  But the minute I went off to tend other business, Morrow did. I heard him sharing the story as I had in my various speeches, only with considerably more eloquence. Heat flooded my cheeks, and I pretended they weren’t talking about me. Now and then, Kelley threw me an incredulous look as if he was thinking, Really? That girl? Morrow was a teller of tales, though, so there was no imagining what embellishments he might be adding. Good thing he was so skilled with his blade or I might stab him.

  “Your face is on fire,” Fade said, smiling. “Just think, John Kelley will be able to say he met you just as it was all beginning.”

  “What was?” I raised a brow.

  “Your plan to save the world.”

  I’d never put it in those precise terms, but I did want to improve things. Some people—like Tegan—were smart and could learn anything; they could make life better in all sorts of ways, but I had only one talent, just the one. It would be wrong not to use it as best I could.

  I hunched my shoulders, feeling silly. “I don’t know if it can be saved. Things are pretty well broken. But maybe I can dig in and defend a corner of it.”

  “That’s more than anyone else has tried to do.” Carefully, Fade wrapped an arm around my shoulder and I leaned into him.

  His quiet support meant so much. Most of the others just wanted to kill Freaks. They didn’t have any faith that this served a greater purpose. Truth be told, I didn’t, either. I had learned a hard lesson. Just because I wanted something, it didn’t mean I could instantly achieve it, and this goal might be beyond my reach. I’d also realized what I should’ve known already—that anything worth doing took hard work. There was no wand like in Morrow’s stories, where problems went up in purple smoke.

  So I’d keep on, even if it seemed fruitless, on the faint hope the world would be a safer place someday. I didn’t ever want to go through that fear again, as I stood beside the tunnel mouth, peering into darkness, and wondering if I’d ever see Momma Oaks and Edmund again.

  “We can’t winter here,” I said softly. “Even if we haven’t made definite progress before the first snowfall, we still have to return to Soldier’s Pond.”

  The idea horrified me, but I wouldn’t let the men starve or freeze over my pride. I’d bear all the jokes and the smug looks from Colonel Park, who thought I was a stupid girl with overly ambitious dreams. Maybe I should just take John Kelley’s arrival as proof that our efforts out here mattered. It was a big world with few travelers, yet he’d noticed us; we had changed the way the Freaks in the area behaved.

  That was something.

  “We have a few more weeks of autumn left. Something might happen,” Fade answered.

  As it turned out, he was right. John Kelley had been eating our food and training our scouts for four days when the impossible occurred. Only, since it did, that meant it wasn’t impossible, just unlikely. I was standing beside the smoldering fire in the field past the forest, tending the bodies of the last beasts we’d slain, when a lone Freak loped toward me. I wasn’t frightened. I had my weapons and a few men nearby, including the trapper, John Kelley. Earlier, he had been much impressed by our efficiency in dispatching our enemies, and he’d expressed curiosity about how we handled the bodies.

  There were five of us: Morrow, Fade, John Kelley, Tegan, and me. Tully and Spence were guarding the camp while the scouts kept an eye on our perimeter. Briefly, I wondered if this was a trap, but if so, it was an odd one. As it drew closer, the Freak slowed, something I had never witnessed before. The beast came toward us at a walk, head lowered as if in respect. The claws stayed at its sides.

  “Well, what in the world do you make of this?” Kelley asked softly.

  I shook my head. The counterman in Otterburn had said the Freaks had sent an envoy to make them the offer to submit, but they couldn’t be dumb enough to ask us to surrender when we were winning the War of the Trees. It was a small campaign, to be sure, but we had killed an impressive number of monsters in the last two months.

  “Not fight,” the Freak called through a mouthful of fangs. “Talk.”

  It had an odd voice, as if someone had mutilated its tongue, then strangled it; but it was unquestionably speaking, not echoing us, as none of us had yet said a word to the thing. Fade had his knives in hand already, and I admit, my fingers were twitching. I didn’t know how I felt about this development, but it couldn’t be easy, facing us beside the smoky corpse-fire of its own kin. That required a special kind of bravery … or stupidity. Possibly both.

  I motioned the others to back up. “All right.”

  “Not happening,” Fade answered.

  His knuckles whitened on his blades; it seemed to require all of his self-control not to slay the monster straightaway. So I let it go and he remained at my side. The others backed off, but shock and amazement dominated their expressions.

  Morrow whispered, “It seems the chap in Otterburn was speaking the truth after all.”

  Tegan drew in a sharp breath, her eyes wide. “I never dreamed…”

  The Freak stopped eight paces away. At this distance, I could see its eyes—and they were different, even more than the ones I’d killed outside Salvation. Savage intellect glimmered as it studied me in turn. I wondered whether it had learned our language from its captives. My heart was pounding like mad. Though I’d killed hundreds of these monsters, I’d never conversed with one. I didn’t know anyone who had. Beside me, Fade made a sound deep in his throat, full of rage and pain. Quietly I offered my hand to ground him and he took it.

  “What do you want?” I demanded.

  “Forest yours. Not to pass. If not pass, not kill.” It seemed to require a great deal of thought for the creature to produce this scant number of words.

  I clarified, “You acknowledge that we own the forest? And you want us to stop killing you, if you stay out of it?”

  I suspected it was asking us to let the Freaks alone, as long as they didn’t trespass inside the woods. Since they had to go through those trees to get to Soldier’s Pond, that sounded like a step forward, a success I could take pride in when we returned to town. The Freak’s prominent brow furrowed as it apparently tried to sift the meaning from all my talking.

  Then it said, “Yes.”

  Yet I didn’t know whether I could trust it. “Give me one good reason not to add your body to the pile here.”

  “If no return, others join big group.”

  It means the horde. A shiver worked through me. “So you’re not with them?”

  The Freak appeared to recognize my dread. “No. Could make alliance. Bad for you.”

  This was a stunning revelation: There were different factions among the Freaks. Did that mean they all had different agendas? With each generation, their ideas and priorities changed more. Since humans didn’t all have the same goals, I could credit that t
he Freaks might disagree about the best course, so maybe most of them—the horde—wanted to kill us, a few reckoned they should rule us, like in Otterburn, and a small number feared us. The situation would only worsen too, if they kept getting smarter. Soon they’d know all our tricks; and if the horde won over the rest to the idea of extinguishing the human race, well. At this rate, it wouldn’t take long.

  So if the Freaks who roved near Soldier’s Pond agreed to a truce, it would grant the settlement time to improve their defenses as well as some much-needed peace of mind. Yet I couldn’t assent too quickly. It would make us seem weak—and terrified of the horde, which we were, but it was better if the messenger didn’t see that.

  Tegan asked, “Who does this truce apply to? I mean, which of you will honor it?”

  “Mine,” the Freak answered. “All of mine.”

  That didn’t give me enough information, as there were different subgroups—tribes—within the whole. I’d love to know how many, where their territory ended. We’d speculated about that when we found the Freak village near Salvation. Some monsters hunted and killed, and there were small ones, so that meant they bred like any natural creature. A portion must stay home to care for the young, but I had no other insights regarding their customs or culture.

  Fade pulled me aside before I could ask anything else. “Are you sure about this? I don’t trust it.”

  Morrow stepped up with one hand on his blade, making sure the monster didn’t try anything while we were distracted. I appreciated his vigilance even as John Kelley loosened his rifle from its comfortable perch on his back. Fade and I didn’t have long to talk before this encounter turned ugly—and I had no reason to doubt the Freak when it said the survivors in the area would join the horde, if it failed to return. Not the most desirable outcome. Fade had terrible memories of his time in captivity, and it hurt me to think of adding to his suffering.

  “You don’t think we should accept?”

  He curled one hand into a fist. “I’d rather kill it. But then, I want all of them dead. So I’m not impartial.”