by T. K. Malone
Making better time on the road back toward Morton, she guessed she was about a third of the way when the perfect place revealed itself. A sheer rock face on one side, about ten feet high, faced a steep slope on the other, where the road and any traffic traveling up or down the valley would be funneled and so giving no room for maneuver. Then Teah saw what she needed. The first rule of hunting Lester’s way was to stack the deck; that’s what he’d always said. She dropped her gear by the side of the road, took Lester’s coat off again and set to work.
Sweat poured from her as she gathered all the rocks she could find, as she rolled every boulder she could move and carried as much scree as she could scrape up, until very slowly she’d fashioned it all into a passable rock slide, enough to stop a jeep.
It was just past dawn when she finished and slumped down for a smoke. It was a simple plan: the minute the cowboy man got out of the driver’s seat, she’d pierce him with an arrow. That would leave her one-on-one with the hairy mountain of a man. It was a straightforward plan, she thought, although not necessarily a great one, but at least it was a plan. She finished her smoke and stubbed out the butt before retreating back up into the trees. She realized, of course, that she’d have to get her first shot spot on, for if not…
Knife, arrows, bow; arrows, bow, knife; Teah arranged them one way and then the other. She was beginning to wish she’d brought a rifle, or at the very least a gun. Given there were plenty in Saggers’ basement, she could have had a fearsome arsenal, but she’d only really been expecting to observe the town, to get an understanding of its layout. Still, chances needed to be taken, as Lester had said. Besides, she could always just hide up if it didn’t look like it was going to plan.
Shivering with nervous anticipation, she waited. The sky was clear for the most part, the wind just a whisper. Perfect for the bow and arrow, and the more she thought about it, the better her choice of weapons seemed to be. Gunshots had a habit of ringing around the valleys and attracting attention.
She recognized the hum of the jeep, as out of sorts with the natural world here as it had been the day before, and her stomach tightened as her heart raced. She tried to relax, telling herself to be sure to get a straight shot at the driver, and to move fast to take out the passenger before he could gather his wits. The sound of the engine faded in and out of hearing as it wound up the valley. She knelt behind the line of arrows she’d thrust ready in the soft earth before her, her knife sheathed in her boot, her nose testing the air for any hint of danger but sensing none. She still had her reservations about that part of Lester’s instructions, but superstitions seemed to thrive up here, sometimes more than logic.
Then the jeep came into sight, screeching to a halt before the fake rock fall. The driver slammed the wheel with his palm, muffled words coming from the jeep as Teah waited for them both to get out. To her dismay, the big lump jumped out of the passenger side and looked the pile up and down, turning back to the driver with a shrug. “Looks like a rock fall,” he called, then turned back to study the pile more closely.
The other man leaned out of his window. “I can see that. Clear it,” he shouted, then held his head in his hands.
Heavy night, Teah thought, allowing herself the faintest of smiles.
Her mouth felt dry, her hands trembling a little, but everything rested on the driver getting out. The big man, though, was already a plain target, and she wondered if she ought to take a shot. But then the driver could just back up and disappear.
“I am not,” the big man shouted, “shifting all this on my own, Tate.”
Tate hung out of his window again. “Just get on with it. Remember whose bounty it is and who’s along for the ride, Marty.”
“No way; ain’t getting done.”
Teah quietly snatched up her arrows and crept a little way farther down beside the road, seeing if she could get a clean shot through the driver’s window.
“I’ll buy the beers tonight and add an extra hundred,” Tate offered.
“Now you’re talking,” said Marty, and he started to shift the rocks.
Teah quietly cursed. She couldn’t risk it.
Tate clicked the driver’s door open and stretched his arms. “That was some night,” he said. “Get this done quick enough and we can get back for another.” He reached into his jacket pocket, flipped his legs around and sat sideways. Pulling out a pack of cigarettes, he lit one. Without thinking, Teah notched an arrow and loosed it, bursting from her hiding place as she heard it thud into its target, followed by the sound of something falling. Crouching, she notched another arrow and aimed at the big man, now staring open-mouthed at Tate. The arrow whistled through the air and Teah took a moment to glance at the jeep, Tate on the ground beside it. Then, as she ran at the big man, Teah noticed he was staggering, staring down at his stomach.
“Shit,” she muttered, knowing she’d hurried the shot. Too fast and too close for another arrow, she threw the bow aside and leapt at him, her knife already raised. His eyes lit up just as it was coming down, and he raised his arm in defense. Briefly, they clashed—to Teah like having hit the trunk of a tree—but she rolled past him, pulling him around with her before she hit the ground with a thud. The big man fell toward her, but she rolled out of the way before he crashed down beside her. He grabbed her foot, though, pulling her back as she struggled to kick him off, but his grasp was far too firm.
Her knife had fallen, now out of reach. He pulled her toward him. Shit, she should have brought a gun; too late now, and she tried to scramble back. He just growled, though, a grim and determined smile leaching onto his face. Then she sprang at him, surprise wiping the smile away as she crashed against him, forcing the arrow farther into his stomach. Teah felt its shaft snap, its broken end scything across her thigh as the big man yelped in pain.
Her knife was now within reach—just, if he didn’t keep tugging her back by her foot. When he growled again, this time in pain and exasperation, she kicked his face with her free foot and grasped the knife before he could pull her away. She turned on him and he froze, staring wide-eyed at the knife in her hand, before she thrust it into his neck. Blood flew everywhere, into her eyes and mouth, up her nose, but the big man slumped heavily away from her, a gurgle coming from his throat. Teah lay next to him, grabbing quick breaths, a smile forcing its way to the corners of her mouth.
She kicked herself free, thankful that this time she’d not ended the fight with a boot against her face. Fights were quick, they always were, but out here they were even faster. This time she’d fought using Lester’s rules, and had taken her chance.
Teah dragged herself to her feet and went over to check the other man. His motionless body lay in a pool of blood, her arrow sticking out from where his eye had been. Lester had always told her to go for the eyes. It gave you the perfect carcass to skin, a decent pelt to wear, not that she’d be doing that this time. Then she noticed he’d still gotten his smoke between his lips and plucked it out to take a drag. She rifled through his pockets, finding the key to the padlock and his ID: Tate Morrow, not that it meant anything now.
Moving the rocks earlier had almost worn her out, and her tussle with the big man nearly finished her off, but dragging their bodies off the road and down the slope damn near killed her. Dead weights don’t move easy, she thought, and eyed up the jeep. Grunting, she cleared enough of the landslide for it to be able to get around, hopped inside and fired up the engine. At least it would get her closer to home, she decided, and off she drove.
Closing in on Aldertown, she pulled off the road and between the vast redwoods, the jeep seeming more at home on the uneven ground as it bounced along. Keeping the jeep had been a wise choice. Tate and Marty might not be the last hunters to come looking for her, so it would be good to have some wheels nearby, just in case.
Although slower work off-road, she eventually skirted around the town, keeping east of the river and carrying on farther into the forest. Guessing she was about a twenty-minute dash from Saggers�
�� house, Teah decided it was as close as she dared risk and found a small stand of trees in which to conceal the jeep. Once she’d retrieved an ax from the cage behind the seats and cut some branches to hide the jeep, then made the place look as undisturbed as possible, she sat on a fallen trunk to check she’d done a good enough job.
“Maybe my luck’s finally changed,” she said to herself as she pulled out one of Saggers’ smokes and lit it.
It was clear now she’d been holding back, hiding away in the shadows, but she had to admit to herself that it hadn’t really helped her in the end. She’d been forced out into the open, and if that was the way it had to be, then so be it. True, she thought, she could move on, find another valley, another forest, but they’d all know she was a fugitive, anyhow. Thing was, she was happier in the thick of it, under pressure, with less time to think. It felt like that was all she’d done for the last ten years, think, but now she needed a plan. A plan to fight the Jakes of this world, and one to put an end to having to hide in the shadows. The thought of what she now had, between the jeep’s armaments and the arsenal in Saggers’ basement, made her smile: enough to start a war.
Teah made it back to Saggers’ by mid-afternoon. She’d washed in the stream and got Marty’s blood out of her hair and rinsed from her clothes. Luckily, the day had stayed fine and hot, so she’d only had to wait an hour or so before her shirt and jumper had dried enough to put back on. She’d thought of cleaning Lester’s old coat, seeing it was starting to smell, but had decided to give it a scrub another day. Somehow she knew she’d never wring Lester’s scent out of it, not even after all these years, and before too long, she was walking up the path to Saggers’ house.
She hung her bow, sack and quiver on the hooks but left her coat on, still a good blanket against the evening’s chill air. Clay was in the front room with Saggers, both sitting on the floor, Saggers teaching Clay to roll cigarettes.
“Is there anything you won’t farm out?” she said to him.
Saggers shrugged. “Teaching him a noble vocation,” but his eyes held hers for a little longer than such an offhand comment would have warranted. “How was the recce?”
Teah pouted. “Nothing much to report. Got a rough layout of the town. I know what I’m looking for now, but no hunters either there or on the way to here.”
His expression changed from one of mild interest to apparent amusement. “No? What’s with the damp shirt, then? Been running? Sweating a bit?”
“Yeah, wanted to get back before dusk.”
“Did you trap anything, Mom?” Clay asked. “I’m starving.”
“Get some logs and I’ll set a fire.”
“No need,” said Saggers. “I’ve cleared all the weed out of the kitchen and dusted the stove off…and the table.” He pushed himself to his feet. “Tell you what, I’ll get it all on the go. I’ve got some squirrel, and I traded some smokes for bread. So we’ve enough with a few additions from out back. Might cook us up a little stew.” He winked at her. “Oh, and next time you rinse blood off your shirt, don’t forget your boots. It has a stench to it, you know, human blood; different to anything else.”
She looked down at her boots. Sure enough, they glistened with dried blisters of splattered blood. “Shit,” she muttered, and went out to the standpipe. Rinsing them down, Teah took a breath and thought hard. He knew no more than that she’d had a problem of some sort.
“So, what happened?” Saggers said, surprising her, making her jump.
“What the… Jesus, Saggers, don’t go creeping up on me.”
“So, tell me, then.”
“I ran into a couple of hunters. They ain’t coming no more.”
“You killed them both?”
Turning the tap off, she held her boots up. “Good enough?”
He nodded, “Sure.”
“Like I said, they ain’t coming no more.”
Saggers backed up, his hands raised. “Be nice to poor old Ethan, eh?” he said, a disarming smirk crossing his face.
“Are you messin’ with me?”
“You?” he said, pointing. “I ain’t taking the piss outta no blonde-haired gal. Might of outta the old black-haired one I once knew. You remember her? Boring, surly type. No, lady, you’ve just got me plain wrong.”
“Stop it, Saggers. You ain’t funny.”
He lowered his hands and frowned. “I liked the other you. She had a sense of humor.”
Teah couldn’t help laughing. “This one knows how to laugh too, you know.”
“Good,” he said, and pointed down at some plants. “See those onions there?” but to Teah they looked no different from any of the others. “Dig around one carefully and see if you can’t tease a couple out without disturbing the rest, will you?” He went back into the kitchen, from where he shouted, “Tease them off and the rest of the plant will keep growing. Dig it up and you’ll get no more onions from that one.”
“Is that supposed to be some meaningful shit?” she shouted back, pulling her knife from its sheath.
“Nope, I’m just a little stoned.”
8
Teah’s story
Strike time: minus 1 day
Location: Aldertown
It hadn’t taken her long to get the basement shipshape, not long at all, and it hadn’t taken her long to get bored, either. Clay’s growing fascination with Saggers’ weed business wasn’t on the wane yet, and she’d thought it only a matter of time before her son was running the stuff all over town. Not that it mattered, it was smoke, and smoke was smoke, nothing special, nothing too illicit, just a way to pass the day and feel a little bit better about everything.
Teah knew the encounter with the hunters had woken a fire in her belly, understood that it was one which had been smouldering all the while Clay had been growing up. She made her excuses and went up into the woods. Hunting; that’d keep the adrenaline at bay, placate the insatiable thirst she once again felt for action, for danger. It would sate the reason she had become a stiff. The reason she’d been so damn good at it.
She’d never forget those early days of her escape, but even then she’d understood, without knowing it, that she’d found her home. Away from the press of the tower blocks, away from the claustrophobic elevator shafts, the alleyways, the underground trains and the intrusion of the ever-present drones, away from all that she had felt like a giant. Those early weeks by the mine, even though her nerves had been shattered withdrawing from the shine, her eyes brimming with tears of frustration, her sweat clinging, she’d felt huge, and she’d felt free. The redwood’s had eventually accepted her, befriended her even, welcomed her as one of them. Though not before Lester had broken her.
He’d had a strange way about him, the old man, she thought. One minute as nice as pie, the next an utter bastard. But everything had been for a reason, every action had a point, and Teah accepted that now, though at the time she’d cursed his very soul on more than one occasion.
“I’m hard on you,” Lester had said one night, “because life’s going to be a bitch, going to be hard on you. You’ve been forced to live away from the city, and you’ve wagered your life for the life of this boy; now you gotta pay the price.”
“Or what?” she’d said.
Teah remembered that day like it was yesterday. Clay had only been five days old and she was weak from the birth. He’d taken Clay from her, told her to go fetch some firewood. He’d sat on the porch and watched her. Teah had seen it for what she’d known it was, another test, but hadn’t realized quite what sort.
The nearest trees had been a couple hundred yards away, and though the redwoods were loath to spare their wood, she’d eventually gathered enough for a couple of days. But when she’d returned and unloaded the cart, he’d sent her off again. “What if it rains tomorrow or the next day?” he’d said by way of justification. So, she’d set off and returned again, taking a little longer this time as she’d had to range farther, and again he’d waved her off. “Might rain for a few days more, maybe a w
eek,” he’d said.
Four times he’d made her go out again to collect wood, and then she’d had to nurse the baby, make Lester his food, and do some practice with both the bow and the knife. When she’d asked him later if she’d done all right, he’d just said, “You never had time to hunt. So you’d have been warm but hungry,” and he’d then just finished his meal and wandered off to bed.
He was a bastard, was Lester, she thought as she marched through the wood, a good bastard to have known.
Without meaning to, Teah had walked all the way back to her old cabin. The stone chimney stack still stood proud among the gray ruins. Even her chair lay where it had been hurled. The bit of the deck that had survived now had creepers reaching onto it. With morbid curiosity, she wandered through the ruins, kicking at the dust and ash. She looked out at the surrounding trees, trying to remember where Jake had stood and watched, wondering why he hadn’t just killed her and Clay. If it had all been about revenge, then surely that would have been the harshest he could have dished out. Curious, Teah strolled over to where she thought he’d stood and looked back at the ruin.
The forest floor was a patchwork blanket of deep red soil and bright green undergrowth, lit by shafts of sunlight the canopy let pass. Where exactly would he have watched from, she wondered.
Scanning around the clearing, she tried to remember where she, Clay and Saggers had ended up when they’d been blown off their feet. She was pretty sure she recognized the tree Saggers ended up being folded around, like a rag doll, then she followed a line to where she’d seen Jake. To where he’d shown himself on purpose. Why? She stepped over to the spot and kicked around at the ground, trying to see with Jake’s mad eyes. Teah scratched her head and wondered why she was bothering. Taking out a smoke, she lit it and took a deep breath. The whole thing was a mystery to her. Jake had said nothing.