Fight the Wind

by Andrew Karre

  “Stop it!” Fix had yelled, feeling sick. “What do you want?”

  After Cleo explained, Fix felt sicker. How was Cleo able to twist his dreams of all of them living safely on the farm into a choice between endangering his sister and killing a lot of people?

  This is what Cleo wanted. Fix would make a bunch of traps. The ones around the well would freak the rest of the nomads into running into the other traps in the farmyard, maybe even in the barn, because it would look like a safe place to run to.

  Fix regretted any enthusiasm he’d ever shown for the rusty old traps they’d found in the barn. He regretted fixing them, even though they had come in handy. Even though he’d filled his belly with rabbit many times, it wasn’t worth it. He knew they’d planted the seed of an idea for Cleo.

  Cleo would hide in the ruins of the farmhouse, where she’d have a clear shot at anyone not caught in a trap. She figured that between those killed by traps and those she’d take out with the bullets, she’d get enough of the raiders to collect some more weapons and ammo.

  “But you only have four bullets left, right?” Fix had said.

  “Exactly why we need to find a way to get more, Fix!” Cleo had yelled. “Unless you have some magic bullet seeds that you plan to plant—”

  Fix turned away from her, his head swimming. What would they do with the people stuck in the traps? What about the ones who ran away? Why couldn’t they just keep hiding when they needed to and enjoy their new home when the groups had moved on?

  “If we can gather up enough supplies, we’ll be able to leave here and no one will mess with us as we keep heading south,” Cleo had said coldly. “There’s nothing for us here, Fix.”

  Everything’s here, thought Fix.

  CHAPTER TEN

  C

  leo hadn’t told Fix that there was another part to her plan. She was sure that once their little group was well armed, they’d be able to join another organized group as they moved south. A good show of force and anyone would see that they’d be assets. Then, when they made it to a city, they’d come in strong and be safe right away.

  As everyone started to rush around, doing their jobs to secure the bunker, Cleo stalked outside. She checked the water-collection pipe and their other camouflages around the bunker. She could hear voices drifting her way. She walked in the direction of the well but didn’t see anyone yet.

  Last of all, she checked that the booby trap was set. Fix wouldn’t agree yet to her plan, but he had still built a trap, a great one, right outside the bunker in case of an attack. Cleo looked at the trap for a while before turning to go in.

  She was about to take the usual steps to erase her footprints leading to the bunker when she paused. What would ever convince Fix that they couldn’t keep hiding like this? It wouldn’t work forever.

  • • •

  When Cleo came in, everyone jumped and then looked relieved. Todd and Rob had their arms around each other and around Gus. Nic was finishing her jobs plus Fix’s. Fix hovered by her, but it was obvious his shoulder still hurt too much for him to do anything useful.

  “Done,” said Cleo briefly, going back to her corner. Nic nodded at her. Todd and Rob started to sing softly to Gus to distract him. Gus was better now, but he used to cry silently whenever they had to hide. Cleo knew how he felt—except she preferred to get mad.

  Fix stood at the periscope. “I see them—just two, it looks like . . . They’re heading straight for the well and pulling away all the brush we piled there . . . Like they knew where it was.” He stopped, watching. “They’re filling some bottles and stuff. Sitting down, drinking . . .”

  Everyone held their breath until Gus’s voice cut through the silence.

  “What should we do now, Cleo? What are we going to do?”

  “We’re going to wait,” Cleo laughed bitterly. “Like always . . .”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  F

  ix stood at the periscope. He could hear the others murmuring behind him. He was glad Todd and Rob were there for Gus—he just didn’t have it in him right now to be comforting. His shoulder still hurt a lot. But Cleo’s words stung more. Why was she always spoiling for a fight these days?

  Fix straightened up when he noticed movement through the periscope. The outside lens was scratched, but he could see two kids approaching. One had a shotgun over his shoulder. The other had his gun on a sling and was dragging it in the dirt behind him. In his free hand were two bottles of water.

  “They’re here.”

  The raiders were looking around suspiciously and glancing at the ground. Then they walked right toward the bunker—so close that Fix couldn’t see them through the periscope anymore.

  Thump! Everyone jumped, and Nic let out a little scream. But Fix couldn’t take his eyes off of Cleo. She was on her feet, holding her gun. Her eyes were gleaming.

  “Did you . . . Cleo, did you . . . ?” Fix couldn’t say it.

  Nic was there, pushing her herself between them. “They’re at the door! They’re going to break it down! What are we going to do?!”

  Fix nudged her aside. “They can’t break it down. It’s too strong. But I saw them. I saw them. They walked right above here. They were looking . . . Cleo—”

  Thump! Nic covered her mouth. Gus was crying.

  Cleo interrupted Fix: “Did they have weapons?” Fix nodded. Cleo grinned. “Now, Fix. It’s time. If the whole group comes here, they will be able to get in. We need to stop these two from getting back to their buddies and get their weapons. This is perfect. The trap is set. There’s only two of them.” The pounding on the door got louder. “We’ve talked about this possibility. Everyone knows what to do.”

  “But, Fix’s shoulder . . .” Nic trailed off. She couldn’t take it all in. She looked over at the ax in the corner.

  “I’ll do it,” Todd said, standing up. Gus was in Rob’s lap, but they both were looking up, ready. Cleo nodded. Todd grabbed the ax and a flare gun.

  “Fix will be our spotter—he can help Nic get the bodies in,” Cleo said. She looked at Rob. “You ready?” He nodded. Cleo knelt down in front of Gus. “Gus, everyone needs to help now. You need to start locking up all the food, okay?” Gus slid off Rob’s lap and scurried over to the cupboards. Locking food away wasn’t important, but Cleo felt like everyone needed a job.

  “Where are they?” Nic whispered. “Do you think they went away?” Rob handed her the other flare gun.

  Fix was at the periscope again. “They’re pulling up a fence post,” he said grimly.

  “Okay, this is it,” Cleo said. “Nic and Rob, get ready to throw the trap on my word, and then come out right behind me and Todd.” She pushed Fix aside at the periscope. She was trembling with excitement.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  W

  hen Cleo had first discovered the flare guns stashed in the bunker, she was ecstatic. It was the first good thing they’d found at the farm as far as she was concerned. The flare guns were tucked away on a shelf, pistol grips out, so she’d thought they were real guns at first. She was disappointed when she saw what they actually were, but then she fired one of the flares into the side of the barn. When she saw the mark it made, she was sure the find was better than nothing.

  The bunker only had two flare guns, but there were dozens of flares. It didn’t take Fix long to figure out how to trigger them—a little spark from a battery set the guns off. The group had spent a day setting up two dozen flares so they’d go off simultaneously in the faces of anyone who tried to break down the door. The result would be more shock than injury, but Cleo was sure it would give their group time to fight back.

  As usual, once Fix got going, he kept improving. An old tractor suspension spring was now rigged to throw the doors open a moment after the flares hit.

  Cleo didn’t take time to appreciate how well Fix’s trap had worked as she darted up the stairs, gun ready. But the trap certainly worked well. The first kid, the one with his gun in a sling, was stunned. He reeled around a
few feet from the door.

  Cleo stayed in the shadow halfway up the stairs, giving her eyes time to adjust to the light. The kid—the boy—was young, younger than she was. He was perfectly framed for her in the door’s opening. He was wild-looking, and she couldn’t understand his gibberish as he clawed at his burning eyes. He was so young—

  Enough! Cleo thought to herself. She raised her gun and stepped out of the shadows.

  For a second, the kid froze and so did Cleo, as if having him in her sights connected the two of them. And for some reason, she felt like he should see her. In this moment, of all moments. As she stepped onto the top stair, the kid staggered back and fumbled with the sling on his shoulder.

  He might have said, “No, please!” but she couldn’t be sure. In that same moment, she fired and hit him squarely in the head.

  The other one was more alert—or maybe seeing his companion killed snapped him to his senses. He dove for cover behind some logs. Cleo took her shot, but it hit a bit behind him.

  The kid fired back and forced Cleo to dive away from the door. He quickly fired again. If Cleo had been watching from a distance, she would have been disgusted by the sloppy shots spraying at the bunker entrance. She was a few feet away from the door: far enough to be safe, but close enough to almost vomit as she saw Rob charge up the stairway—and into the line of fire.

  As Rob screamed and fell back down the stairs, the kid took his chance. He dropped his shotgun and sprinted away from the bunker. Cleo took one look down the steps and then back at the fleeing kid. She felt the warrior’s calm come over her. It really was like ice water.

  The kid moved fast. He was looking over his shoulder and occasionally zigzagging, but he had more than a hundred yards to cross to get to the next cover. Cleo had no trouble getting a line on him in the open yard. He swerved a bit as she fired, though, and the shot clearly didn’t kill him—at least not instantly like the other one. The kid wasn’t going anywhere fast, but Cleo knew she couldn’t afford to take a chance. She started across the yard toward the screaming boy. She grabbed his ancient, heavy shotgun on her way.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “C

  leo!” Fix shouted from the bottom of the stairs. He’d gone to check on her once they were sure Rob was going to be okay. The kid’s gun had packed only bird shot, and the round had just grazed Rob’s leg. Rob was bloody, but already protesting that he’d be fine.

  When Cleo didn’t answer, Fix made his way up the stairs to see her approaching the other kid. Fix started to run.

  When he got to Cleo, he wished he hadn’t. He skidded to a halt in time to see her club the second kid to death with the butt of his rifle.

  “You had another shot,” he screamed. “God, Cleo, you could have finished it in a second.”

  “And if you think I’d waste ammo on him, you’re nuts. Come on. Help me get the bodies into the bunker. Then we’ve got to cover our tracks back to the door. You can bet their buddies heard the shots.” She was already pulling the dead kid by his feet. Fix wondered how they’d hide the bloody smear the kid was leaving. His head spun.

  “Fix!” she yelled. “Snap out of it. We’ve got to move. Forget the other guy. I’ll handle him. Just get the traps on the bunker reset. And tell the others—” She froze. “Rob! Fix, is he—”

  Fix finally came around. “He’s fine, Cleo. Just grazed him.” He headed back to the bunker. “We’ll reset the trap.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  “A

  nd fill me from the crown to the toe top-full of direst cruelty,” Cleo whispered to herself. Two shotguns, and lots of ammunition clipped to the bandoliers the kids had strung over their shoulders! What fools those two had been to carry it all around with them. Sure, the ammo was just more birdshot, but that was way better than flares. God, why didn’t the second one take the time to reload instead of running? she wondered. Then she remembered how young he had been, and his terror. Maybe somebody else had loaded the gun for him. Maybe he hadn’t known how to reload it himself. She pushed the thought from her mind.

  After Fix and Todd reset the traps, they and the others retreated to the far side of the bunker, away from the bodies. They picked at rations in silence while Cleo continued inspecting her haul. She could hardly wait to see what other goodies were on the bodies.

  She started with the one who had been carrying the water. She flipped open his jacket and plunged her hands in his pockets. A knife! She hefted it in her hand. Might be a good one for throwing. She could practice later.

  A little food in his pants pocket, but nothing else. She yanked off his boots and held one up. “Might be your size,” she said to Todd, tossing them to him. He shrank back, and the boots clattered to the floor. Todd’s pale face shone in the dim light. Rob had his arms around him. Cleo shrugged and turned back to the other body.

  The second guy she’d killed had a few more shells in his coat pocket. Batteries in his pants pocket plus a small flashlight. Nice, thought Cleo. The coat looked warm, too. She struggled to pull it off his heavy body.

  “Someone want to give me a hand?” Cleo called. No one responded. As she dragged the coat off, she could feel there was something in it. An inside pocket. A book!

  Cleo sat back to flip through it. She’d savor it later, no matter what it was. But then she slowed down and started reading.

  “Password: sanctuary . . . Refuge . . .” she murmured, squinting at the handwritten notes on the sides of the pages.

  “What is it?” Nic finally asked.

  Cleo glanced up, impatient. “Let me read. The rest of you could be getting all their clothes off. Once the bodies stiffen up, it’ll be hard.”

  “That’s disgusting,” Nic said coldly. “You gonna pull their teeth out, too, Cleo, and make a necklace?”

  “Everyone’s always whining about not having any underwear. These guys have decent clothes. You don’t want them? I’ll wear them. But shut up so I can read.”

  No one moved, and Cleo went back to studying the book. She was quiet for a long time. When she looked up, her face beamed.

  “This is pure gold,” she said. “The book, or what’s left of it, is some kind of survival guide. By some guy named Gene Matterhorn. A lot of pages are missing, so maybe they were just tearing it up to start fires or wipe their butts. But even better is what someone wrote in the margins of the pages.

  “It’s by someone called Ozymandias. He talks about a place called Refuge. It sounds like it’s south of here—there are directions and maps. I guess it’s pretty well defended. Sounds like there’s a wall or something around it. But he gives the passwords for getting in, even tells a little what the place is like. The people, I mean . . .” Cleo trailed off, staring at the book. “Here, see for yourselves.” Cleo tossed the book to Nic, who caught it automatically, and then started cleaning the guns, humming a little to herself.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  N

  ic slowly paged through the book. Fix’s heart was pounding, and at the same time he felt numb. It was all too much, too fast. First all the violence and now this. Cleo finding another way to try to make them leave the farm. And he couldn’t even read the stupid book for himself.

  Nic glanced up at him and said, “I’ll just read it out loud so we can all hear it, okay? Just the stuff about this place, Refuge. The survival stuff we can look at later.”

  When Nic finished, Fix’s head hurt. He really needed to sleep or something before he could even think about this. But Nic had some questions.

  “Why do you think this Ozymandias guy wrote all this stuff down? Doesn’t sound very secure to me,” Nic said to Cleo.

  Cleo shrugged. “He must have been passing the information to other people like the ones in Refuge. Strength in numbers. He’s putting together an army, maybe. Of civilized people. People who can rea—” She stopped herself.

  “Or maybe his people are the ones over there. The ones you just enjoyed killing!” Nic said, her voice shaking

  “Look at th
e book,” Cleo said. “You can see those idiots were ripping it apart. Do you think they could read? They’re different from us, Nic, and you know it. Look at how they tried to break in here. We wouldn’t have done that.”

  “No, you would have just waited ’til we came out and killed us and then taken everything if you had been those guys. Being smarter doesn’t make you better, Cleo.” Nic sounded sad.

  Cleo shook her head. “That’s crazy. I’ve only ever defended us. Kept us safe.” She looked over at Fix. “This is a waste of time. The important thing is, what are we going to do next?”

  Everyone started to talk at once. Fix put his head in his hands, trying to block them all out, to think his own thoughts. Finally Nic said, “Fix? What do you think?”

  “I think,” he said slowly, “that it is weird that all this stuff is written down. I mean, it’s not just because I can’t . . . read,” he said in a low voice. “I can keep a lot of stuff in my head, and so can all of you. If someone wanted to tell you something so important, why wouldn’t you just remember it? I think it could be a trap.”

  “But why?” Rob asked. “Why would these people at Refuge try to, like, what, lure people in? Why wouldn’t they just want to be left alone if they didn’t want new people?”

  “Well, maybe they’re trying to get people’s stuff too,” Fix started, not looking at Cleo.

  “But they could do that a lot easier by just attacking people as they came near the town. Like Cleo said, those guys and a lot of others who’ve gotten to be like animals don’t bother with reading. Seems to me like it has to be a secret message,” Todd said.

  “Maybe Ozymandias was captured or something,” Rob added. “Knew he was toast. So he wrote this down, just in case someone found it.”

  Rob and Todd were still holding hands. Fix had never realized how much they wanted to leave the farm. He’d thought they were on his side.