by Stacey Nash
He’s right. I can’t just sit here doing nothing, even if Dad’s not in danger. I’ve lost him, lost our life, and it’s all my fault. I don’t want to be stuck here, on this farm, without the people I love and with arrogant, smug, infuriating Jax Belfry.
I follow the line of Will’s gaze to the sun slipping below the horizon. The sky, bright with shades of orange, red and yellow, lights the soft clouds from below.
“I don’t know about you, but I’m going to fight to live my life freely.” A surge of strength backs up my words, and with every ounce of my being I mean this. “No matter if Dad thinks I’m dead or not.”
Will turns to meet my gaze with eyebrows raised above his tousled hair. After a moment, his mouth turns up in a smile.
“I’m not sure what else they do, but Beau and the rest of the people here must fight against this Collective. They might know how we can take our lives back,” I say.
“You’re no fighter, Mae. You’ll get yourself killed.”
“I can’t do nothing.”
He lets his breath out, the exhale lasting for ages like his lungs were full to bursting. “Fine.” He pauses. “I know you won’t back down on this, so I’m with you every step of the way.”
I give him a wide smile. It feels good to be a team. It’s us, it’s normal, it’s right.
His lips pinch together as he nods. “We’ll go see Beau in the morning. You need to get some rest; it’ll help you think clearly.”
I lack any energy to argue, so I don’t put up a fight. He’s right.
“Al was going to leave this morning, but when you weren’t here… look, you need to see him in the morning too.” Will pauses at the door on his way out and slices me a serious look. “If you’re going to fight, my place is beside you.”
I shoot him a smile. When he leaves, I head to the bath to take a long soak. I close my eyes, trying to relax, but my reverie is broken when footsteps come into the bathroom and leave once they realize it’s occupied.
Three smaller rooms make up the bathroom. The main room contains a vanity basin and mirror, as well as an old cupboard. Two other rooms open from it: one for the toilet, one for shower and bathtub. The door opens again. Maybe they’re going to the toilet, but I’ve no idea how many people share this bathroom. I’m hogging the bath. I should get out, but I don’t. The ride home left me cold to the bone, so I soak until warmth seeps back into my body. I can’t bear to put my filthy clothes back on when I’m done. Instead, I wrap myself in the scratchy white towel and head back to my room where I collapse onto the big bed, exhausted.
* * * *
I wake with emptiness gnawing at my stomach, making me realize I haven’t eaten since the bacon and eggs at the diner. Darkness consumes my room now. I must have slept right through dinner. Yawning like I haven’t slept at all, I pull on my dirty jeans and stiff, sweat-caked blouse, hoping I can find my way to the kitchen. Chattering voices waft from the direction of the family room as I come down the stairs. I turn away, toward the light from the open kitchen door illuminating the downstairs hallway. Great, someone must be there. I hold my breath, not wanting to see Jax as I walk into the room. Thankfully it’s empty.
Half a loaf of unclaimed home-baked bread sits in a container on the bench, its lumpy crust the color of honey. It looks so delicious my mouth liquefies. There’s no margarine in the fridge, but there is a plastic container of something fluffy which might be butter. I spread it onto the bread, but freeze when the sound of footsteps echoes down the hall. Jax stops. His eyes widen for a brief moment as he enters the kitchen, and his face smoothes, devoid of any expression.
“Still on babysitting duty?” I ask.
He looks weary and maybe a little sad, or that could just be his pissy look. I don’t really know. He meets my gaze for a brief second, and drops it, picking at the bread I left on the counter.
My heart plummets to the pit of my stomach and makes me wish I could sink into the floor.
“It’s nothing,” he says.
That doesn’t make any sense; he wasn’t even listening. “Fine.”
“Fine.”
I grab a red apple from the fruit bowl and stalk out of the room without turning back. Satisfied warmth spreads through me at leaving him there alone. He’s done it to me twice now, so let’s see how he likes it. I know my behavior’s petty, but it feels kind of good.
Halfway up the stairs I literally bump into someone, jolting me out of my angry march. The girl we saw at dinner last night overcorrects her stride, but it doesn’t stop the pile of clean clothes from tumbling out of her arms and onto the staircase.
“Shoot.” She bends down to pick them up, and her long black hair falls in a curtain around her face.
“Sorry.” I crouch, picking up a black shirt, fold it, and place it onto her new pile.
Her muddy brown eyes come alive with a smile when they meet mine. “You’re the girl who was with the hottie at dinner.”
“If you’d call him that.” I draw a deep breath. “He’s arrogant and impossible. Hot, yeah, but his crappy attitude—”
“Not Jax.” She laughs. “I meant your blond, nicely toned friend.”
“Will?” I’ve never really thought of him as good looking, Will’s just… well, Will.
She giggles. “Yeah.”
She thinks he’s hot? I shove my loose hair out of my face. She likes him? Huh, well, she doesn’t even know him, it’s not like….
She holds her hand out, her caramel skin smooth as silk. “Hi, I’m Lilly.” Her voice is the opposite of her skin, not smooth, but bubbling like an excited brook.
I look from her outstretched hand to her kind, happy face. She smiles and glances at her waiting hand. Oh, she wants me to shake. I swallow and take it. Her grip is loose, her hand soft and warm. “Anamae.”
“Ooh, pretty name. It sounds old fashioned. Are you named after a grandparent?”
Lilly seems nice, and it’s not her fault Jax is an ass, so I push my anger away and force a nice smile. “My mom’s name is Annie and my birthday is in May. Guess my parents got creative.”
She picks up a flower-printed cotton shirt, leaving only a few scattered items of her spilled laundry.
“I saw you helping with dinner last night. Do you live here?”
“Yep, for as long as I can remember. Hey, Jax said you’ve got trouble with The Collective, and you’ll be staying.”
I feel myself flush and glance away. I bet he complained about being assigned as my keeper.
“I guess that’s all true.”
We both stand, and she hands me an item made of a creamy, lightweight fabric that feels super soft. “Your clothes are filthy. Tomorrow, I’ll show you where the laundry is. You can borrow my dress while you wash.”
“Thank you.” I give her a genuine smile, hoping we become friends. A friend I can trust.
Chapter Seven
WILL WAS RIGHT. I’M more myself after a solid night’s sleep. My head’s reasonably clear, and no emotion clouds my judgment. He’s not the only one who’s right; they all are—Jax and Al and Beau. I can’t go home, not today, not tomorrow, not yet.
It’s bright and early, and I can’t sleep, so I knock on Will’s door. After only two raps, it swings open. He’s still dressed in the same faded jeans and button down shirt. He raises a brow. “Nice dress.”
I can’t help but smile. It feels good to be in clean clothes, even if it is a little cool for something so summery. I do a small twirl, enjoying the feel of the fabric brushing my thighs. It’s not often I wear anything other than jeans, and the look on Will’s face makes me rush to speak before he has time to torment me. “Are you ready for breakfast?”
The dining room’s much emptier than it was last time I ate here. A little boy sits with a middle-aged woman—the same kid from the other day. His skin’s the same smooth mix of dark and light as Lilly’s. Maybe he’s her brother or cousin. He picks his bowl up and slurps the milk dregs.
“Anamae.” Al’s well-worn, textured voice cause
s me to spin with a small smile that feels a little fake. It’s hard to pretend everything’s all right when it’s not.
“Hi, Al.”
His arms crush me to his chest in a tight hug, and he slaps my back a few times. I’m sure it’s meant to be comforting but, really, it’s just jarring. He plants his palms on my shoulders and pulls back, holding me at arm’s length. His emotive eyebrows, a side effect of being so bushy, scrunch together, causing the centers to spike. “Did you twist that boy’s arm into taking you somewhere?”
“No.”
“Where were you?”
Suddenly I can’t meet Al’s gaze. I glance back to Will, but that’s not much better. Concern is spread across his face too. I look at my fingers twining together instead. “Iwenthome.”
“Excuse me,” Al says. “I didn’t quite catch that.”
I heave a sigh. “I went home, okay? It didn’t work out like I’d hoped. It was a stupid mistake.”
Al squeezes my shoulders, his big palms cupping them like they’re tennis balls. “Anamae, sweetheart, everything will be okay. I’ll check on your old man, make sure he looks after himself, and make sure he doesn’t worry. Beau will get this all sorted out, and you’ll be home before you know it.”
The soft tapping of heels on the timber floorboards announces Bertie’s arrival. She wanders into the dining room, her sight set on Al. “You ready, old man?
Suddenly realizing something, I say, “Al, my work. Can you let them know at Joe’s I won’t be in for a bit?”
He nods and pulls me in for a quick hug. As he releases me, he taps the end of my nose. “Don’t do anything rash. Beau will take care of everything.”
I give him a smile. “Thanks, Al.”
“Bye for now, Mae.”
* * * *
After breakfast, Will and I seek out Beau. I stand statuelike near the open door of his office, waiting, watching him paw through a pile of papers. A small cough pushes its way past the nervous ball in my throat. “Umm, excuse me, Beau. Can we have a word?”
“Sure, take a seat.” He gestures toward a row of high-backed chairs. “What is it?”
“We want to get out of this mess and go home,” I say.
His response is barely clear enough for me to make out. “Don’t we all.” His dark head remains bent over the wide desk, hatless for the first time since we met. “Is our farm not to your liking?”
Will takes a seat beside me. “We’re very grateful for your hospitality, Mr. Fairsmith, but this isn’t our life.”
“I know, son, I understand. We all felt that way at first,” Beau says in a kind, gentle voice, finally looking up.
At first. What’s that supposed to mean? That they’re all here against their wishes? He thinks we have no other option but to stay here and not just for a few days. There’s no way. I’m not staying here indefinitely. What do they do here anyway, just hide? That’s not for me.
“We’re going to fix things and go home. I don’t know where to start, but we’ll do it,” I say through my tightened jaw.
Beau looks at me just the way Dad does when he’s dodging an argument. “It is a miracle you have that brooch and pendant, Anamae.”
I flinch, making my back hit the hard chair. He knows about my cover-up. Obviously something of mine set off the alarm, but I’ve never told Beau what it was. Curse words sit on the tip of my tongue, all aimed at Jax. Even though I shouldn’t really be surprised he outed me.
“It is not often someone stumbles upon a piece of tech,” Beau says. “It surprised me when Al brought you here with a cover-up.”
Of course, Al told him when we first got here. Too much stress is making me forget the details. An unfamiliar feeling seeps through me. Relief maybe? I like that it wasn’t Jax.
“But—”
“Ah.” Beau holds up a hand. “The Collective guard their tech closely. It rarely goes missing, unless we steal something.” He smiles, and Will chuckles a little stiffly. “On the rare occasion when a piece does fall into public hands, it doesn’t go unnoticed. The tech that is out there, in common possession, is usually long forgotten. Mostly family heirlooms, the knowledge of their use lost as they pass through the generations.”
An image of the blue pendant flits into my mind. Did my mother know what it really was?
“Now your tech’s been brought to their attention, they will pursue you, relentlessly, until it is recovered.”
I nod. No new info there. Jax already told me this, but there’s got to be something we can do.
“It leaves you with no choice. This is the only safe place.”
“Surely we can fight back, surrender the tech. I don’t know, do something.” I push my shoulders back and straighten up in the hard chair.
“Surrender it?” He laughs. “You’re still a threat to their secret. Giving it up won’t help you. You know too much now.”
Will leans forward in his chair. “But maybe if—”
“They flashed your faces on the news so the police and the public would help find you. Their plan is to flush you out.”
“So we have to clear our names, with the cops and with them, or we can never go home?” I frown. God only knows how we’ll manage that.
Will gives a small nod. “Seems like it’s fight, or roll over and play dead,” he says. “Mae says fight, so that’s what we’ll do.”
Bless him. He’s such a good friend, always ready to support me. If his family hadn’t moved to our street when I was eight, well, I don’t know where I’d be now. I smile at him before looking Beau directly in the eye. “Can you help us?”
Beau sighs, long, hard and drawn out. If I knew him well, I’d guess he’s getting fed up. “The only way to clear your name is to expose The Collective.” He pushes his paperwork aside. “We’ve been working toward that for generations.”
“Generations?”
“Since the late 1800s, to be precise.”
I rub my hands across my tight neck. The muscles ache and barely give under my touch. “I guess we join the fight, then.”
“That won’t solve our problem, Mae, it will just tie us here forever.” Will shakes his head. “There is a fight… isn’t there?” He sounds slightly hesitant. Of course there’s a fight. There has to be.
“Yes, but it’s not simple.” Beau blows out a long breath. “Look, all I can offer you is knowledge.” He pauses, readjusts the papers on his desk. “I’m not asking you to join our cause. By learning about The Collective, how they operate, how we operate, you might be better able to understand your situation.”
Is he blowing us off? I’m not quite sure.
He pushes his chair back and stands behind the wide desk, clearly indicating we’re done here.
“Thanks, we appreciate the time.” Standing, I hope we’ll find the key to escape this awful new world. I don’t want to belong. I just want to go home. Will rises to his feet, and we both turn to leave.
“We have a gym where anyone can practice skills and build strength.” Beau beats us to the door. “You are welcome to use it.” He pushes the door open. “I’ll show you where it is. Also, Sam can share some Collective knowledge.”
We follow him out of the house and across the yard toward the orange barn. It’s stark against a backdrop of green trees. The cook, Martha, stands at the base of one of the many fruit trees, toeing a woven reed basket. Another person stands on a ladder, only their legs visible below the branches. I wonder if they sell all that fruit. My mind flicks through the faces I’ve met in the twenty-four hours we’ve been here… who’s Sam? Could be a guy or girl, I haven’t paid much attention to all the new people.
A rancid smell suddenly assaults my senses, and I cover my nose, trying to mask the rotten, vegetablelike odor. When I look around, there’s a pig pen off to the side under large, shady trees. Thankfully, it’s only a few more feet before Beau pulls back a large plank door and we bustle inside, escaping the putrid smell.
This place is huge.
The first thing I not
ice is the smell of hay and sweat. The type of sweat earned through hard work. It’s not bad, but not good either. Much better than the pig pens.
My gaze lands on Jax fighting a solid man in the back corner. He moves effortlessly, dodging and evading the man’s kicks and punches. His black pants sit low on his hips, and his white shirt shows off the muscles working across his chest and back. He kicks the man, hard, with his bare foot. The impact makes Jax stumble, and they both burst into laughter. Their fight continues. They relentlessly throw banter back and forth with the same ease as they throw punches. My cheeks warm with the realization I’m staring, so I drag my gaze away, grateful they haven’t yet noticed us.
Ace lazes on the floor, his head resting on his two front paws, which are on Jax’s discarded leather jacket.
Surprisingly, the barn is almost empty. There’s no bench press, no treadmills, no weights. Nothing I’d expect to find in a gym at all. It’s basic, and everything seems to serve a purpose. Canvas bags full of… something, knotted climbing ropes hang from the rafters, and symmetrical mats like skinny mattresses make squares on the floor. One wall is filled with an assortment of hanging weapons: swords, staffs, sticks, and blades. Dozens of them. I spot stairs at the back, leading up to a second level, but when I stand on my toes, I’m not tall enough to see what’s there. The whole pace is like a strange, misplaced gym.
Beau said they train, but all those weapons… there’s just so many. Enough for a whole army. Maybe they do really fight The Collective after all.
The kind girl from the stairs, Lilly, throws daggers at a dummy which looks like a scarecrow; hay peeks out between its tattered clothing. She seemed so sweet and nice when I met her, but she’s different here. Here she seems fierce, like a sleek panther.
“Hey, nice dress.” She gives me an enthusiastic wave.
I smooth her cream linen dress over my tummy. “Thanks again. It feels great to be clean.”
She turns to Beau. “Mae needs clothes. Can we go to town?” She casually picks up my nickname, the one only Will and Al use. I don’t correct her. It feels right, like she’s a friend already.