I take a deep breath. “No.”
“Why not?”
“I wasn’t sure I’d filled those sacks to the top. I didn’t think it was fair to accuse the Lofties of stealing the water, when it might have been my mistake.”
“So you deliberately disobeyed our orders?” Adder almost hisses. I think it’s fairly clear that’s the situation, so I don’t answer. “How much water did you give them?”
“What they asked for—two sacks,” I say.
They all gasp. “Two? Two sacks?” Aloe says. “When you only brought one to us?”
I hadn’t thought about how that would sound. “I was following the rest of your orders, to bring one sack back with me–”
“You bring more water to the Lofties than to your own people?” Adder says. “Are the flesh-eaters affecting your mind?”
“No!” My shout rockets back and forth across the narrow passageway. Adder touched a nerve. The Scourge has been known to drive people mad from seconds of exposure, and I’ve had more than my fair share of intimate contact with the creatures in the last few days.
“Why did you act against our wishes?” Aloe asks.
I think of telling them about Peree’s gift to me. I want to explain how much that swim meant, how it helped return me to myself, so I could do my duty for my people. But if the Lofties hear about it, Peree could be punished. He might be replaced as my Keeper. And I’m not sure I’m ready to admit, even to myself, how much I already rely on him being in those trees.
I reach for Aloe's hand, but I can’t find it. I turn my palm up in a gesture of pleading. “I did what I thought was right.”
There’s a sound behind me, in the tunnel.
“Who’s there?” Sable calls. Footsteps shuffle away.
“Stop!” Adder demands, moving toward the sound. There’s a short scuffle, then two sets of footsteps come back.
“What’s this about?” Sable asks.
“I thought she knew something about when they were leaving,” a familiar wheedling voice says.
It’s Thistle, a middle-aged woman who helps with the washing and repairing of the community’s clothing. She isn’t well suited for laundering—she’s known to be careless and prone to laziness—but she enjoys her duties. The constant stream of people dropping off and picking up their washing means she’s never short on gossip. I’m not surprised to find her eavesdropping on a meeting of the Three in the middle of the night, in the black of a frigid tunnel.
“The Council always lets the community know when the Scourge shows signs of leaving,” Aloe says, her voice stern. “You know that.”
“Yes, but there’s been talk. Rumors that the Lofties are taking our water because they know the flesh-eaters aren’t leaving quickly this time,” Thistle says. “I thought Fennel might know more.”
“The girl doesn’t know anything,” Adder says coldly. “But you, on the other hand, know better than to snoop around, listening to the Council’s private proceedings.”
“We’ll inform the people the moment we have news of the Scourge’s departure, as always,” Sable soothes. “Now come with me.” He and Thistle walk back along the passageway, toward the main cave.
“She’ll talk,” Aloe mutters as their footsteps fade. “The community will know everything we said by breakfast.”
“I hope you’re proud of yourself,” Adder says to me. “They’ll know of your disobedience and deceit now. We’ll discuss an appropriate punishment for you, but in the meantime you might want to sleep. I have a feeling you’ll need every bit of your strength tomorrow.”
I nod and follow them back down the passage. When we reach the cave, I call to Aloe in a low voice.
“I’ll speak with you in the morning,” she says. Her voice is flat, but I hear a hint of regret. I creep back to my bedroll, where I lie awake again, wondering what the morning will bring.
“You better wake up.” Eland’s voice drifts through my troubled dreams. I try to roll over. “Come on, Fenn, wake up. This is serious."
“What happened last night?” Calli says from my other side.
I want to pull my bedroll over my head and block them out, but instead I reluctantly sit up. “What did you hear?”
“We heard the Three told you not to get water for the Lofties yesterday, but you did anyway. We heard you’re giving them extra water because somehow you know the flesh-eaters aren’t leaving. And we heard,” her voice drops lower, “you gave the Lofties more water than you brought us, but we knew that part wasn’t true.”
“That’s about the only part that is true.” I raise myself up to my elbows. “So Thistle and her prying nose and big ears overheard, and now everyone knows?”
“Yes, but that’s not all,” Eland says.
“What now?” Neither of them answers. “What is it?”
“You tell her,” Calli says, her voice breaking.
“Jackal snuck out of the caves this morning and set a fire under one of the Lofty walkways,” Eland says.
“What?” I shoot all the way up, the bedroll dropping off my shoulders.
“They shot and killed him.” Calli whimpers. “And when Rose heard, she sort of lost her mind and ran out to look for him. She hasn’t come back. Aloe went after her, but she couldn’t find her.”
“They’re both gone?” I ask.
“Mother thinks so,” Eland says.
Nausea grips me, like I swallowed one of the nasty brews our herbalist, Marjoram, concocts. Rose, Jackal, and their unborn child. I can still feel the warm swell of Rose’s belly under my hand. “This is my fault.”
“No, it’s not,” Eland says, squeezing my shoulders. “No one made Jack go out there. He took being in the caves really hard, because of Rose and the baby and all. He kept saying he wished he could make the Lofties pay for their theft. I guess this was how he decided to do it.”
“But if I’d done exactly what the Three told me to do, maybe he wouldn’t have felt like he needed to set the fire.”
“Why didn’t you do what they said?” Calli asks gently.
“I didn’t think it was fair. I didn’t think the Lofties stole the water.” I try to explain my actions without telling them about Peree and the swim. My excuse sounds as weak this time as it did with the Three. Given the consequences, no explanation will be good enough now.
“Adder’s furious,” Eland says. “I thought his head was going to pop off when he heard about Jack and Rose. He chucked his cup against the wall. Barely missed Bream.”
“Were any Lofties hurt in the fire?”
“No, they put it out with their water,” Calli says.
Was that an accusatory note in her voice? “Then why did they kill Jackal?”
“Ask your Keeper,” she says. “Father said he was the shooter. Looks like he proved how good he was with a bow and arrow.”
Peree shot Jackal? The grief intensifies, clarified by anger. How could he kill a defenseless Groundling, especially when his people had the water—water I’d provided them with—to put out the fire? How could he do it? And why did I ever think I could trust him?
After breakfast Sable makes a solemn announcement about the deaths of Jackal and Rose. Amid quiet sobs, he reminds us we need to be strong during the difficult times when the Scourge is here, to stick together, and to trust in the Three to make the decisions that will be best for the community. He urges us not to take matters into our own hands like Jackal did. Then he calls me up to the front.
People move out of my path, murmuring. Some voices sound angry, some sympathetic. I keep my head up, but my heart stutters, and sweat musters under my arms.
“Fennel—being honored with Sightlessness and thus protected from the Scourge, you have more responsibility than most of your peers. Normally you perform your duties in a manner that makes our community proud. Yesterday, however, you displayed a serious lapse of judgment that may have contributed to the deaths of several Groundlings. I know you regret this lapse, and I know you will not allow it to happen again.�
�� I nod, not trusting my voice. “Still, there must be punishment,” Sable says. “Today you will collect six sacks of water and transport them here without assistance. You will not collect any for the Lofties.” He pauses. The crowd is silent. The torches on the wall flicker and crack. “And you will spend the night in the forest, among the Scourge, as a reminder that you can either stand together with your community . . . or you will stand alone.”
Shocked murmurs roll through the cave.
“Do you understand what’s expected of you?” I nod again. “Then go and perform your duty.”
I’m burning with guilt, anger, and fear, but I must obey the decision of the Three. Legs trembling, I push through the silent stares to the tunnel entrance. As I step into the dark passageway, someone presses a pouch into my hand.
“Bread, dried meat, and herbs—from Mother,” Eland whispers in my ear. He sounds like he’s crying. I kiss his cheek and thank him, then I walk until the tunnel swallows me, hiding my own tears in its familiar, comforting blackness.
I sit at the entrance to the caves, my back against the sun-warmed wall. Flesh-eaters pace outside, shrieking and howling at me. They’re hungry as always. I’m torturing them—intentionally—by sitting just out of their reach.
I should go; it’s going to be a long day. I have no idea whether Peree will be waiting for me, or what he’ll say, but it doesn’t matter. I’ve already decided I’ll collect the six sacks of water without his help. After last night, it’s obvious I can’t trust him, as much as I had hoped otherwise.
I wipe away my tears, stand up, and march into the sunlight toward the forest. The creatures scream all around me. I scream back, until it occurs to me I must look mad having a shouting match with a pack of half-humans. I stop, and realize Peree’s yelling, too. I can barely hear him over the flesh-eaters’ furious noise.
“Fennel! I need to talk to you.”
“Go away,” I shout, and continue on to the clearing. Sweat trickles down the back of my neck. It’s steaming, even at this early hour.
He follows me through the trees. “I didn’t want to shoot him; it was my duty. I was the lookout this morning–”
“Your duty? To kill an unarmed man? He was frustrated from staying in the caves for days. He didn’t do any real harm!”
The creatures groan. I notice, not for the first time, that the more upset I am, the more agitated they become.
“Did you know his partner was pregnant?” I say. “And that she left the caves to find him, and that she was taken by–” I choke on my tears. I don’t want to completely break down again.
“I heard,” he says. “I’m sorry.”
“Sure you are,” I say. “You Lofties are known for your compassion, aren’t you? Always looking out for us, up in your safe little nests. More like looking down on us.” I’m going too far, but I can’t seem to stop now that I’ve started. “Why are you even pretending to be my friend, with your swim and your compliments? You said I don’t need a Keeper, and now I don’t want one. Stop following me around. Leave me alone.”
“I can’t do that.” His voice is low.
“And I can’t do anything to stop you, can I? Then do what you have to, but you might not want to exert yourself too much. You won’t be getting any water from us today.”
“We anticipated that.”
“Aren’t you the clever ones.” I clamp my lips shut. I’m probably close to getting shot, too.
It’s time to get to work anyway; I’m at the sled track. I grab the sled and run down the hill with it, hoping to have several trips completed before the temperature goes from steaming to blazing. The scraping of the sled along the track brings a fresh wave of creatures to me.
Once, while searching for a patch of wildberry bushes in the forest, I put my foot through the rotting carcass of an animal. The foul odor clung to my shoe for days. This stench is much, much worse. It’s going to be a very long day, and an even longer night.
Sometime later I collapse in the clearing, our deserted shelters all around me. I’ve made four trips to the caves, dragging the loaded sacks behind me, but I still have two more trips to make and I’m coming to the end of my mental and physical reserves of energy. I want nothing more than to lie down and go to sleep. As if I could, with the sickening cloud of creatures around me.
Peree still follows. He hasn’t tried to talk to me again, but I hear him up there. Whenever the creatures crowd me he clears some space with his arrows. I don’t even stop walking as he shoots. What’s the death of another Groundling to him? I think bitterly.
I ease my leather slipper off and touch the angry blister on my heel. Moisture bursts out, and one of the creatures moans hungrily. I shove my shoe back on, disgusted, and limp into our shelter.
The creatures follow me in. There’s no way to secure the door against them. I’ve fetched items from other people’s homes in the past few days since the Scourge came—favorite toys, water sacks, winter clothes, Bear’s extra spear—but I haven’t been inside ours. Something about having the creatures in our home makes me feel even more revolted. I won’t be able to sleep here tonight. I go back out and press my forehead to the wall. Spreading my fingers wide against the warm wood, I search for the will to collect the last two sacks.
A creature moans close by. I turn my face away, too tired to move any farther. It moans again, but this time it sounds like . . . more than a moan. I stumble away and fall, skinning the palms of my hands.
“Are you all right?” Peree yells.
I forget I’m not speaking to him. “Do you see the creature that was next to me just then, when I was by the shelter? Does it look any different?”
“They all look the same,” he says. “Repulsive.”
“Please, Peree, look closely! Do any of them seem, I don’t know, newer maybe?” I can’t tell him what I’m thinking. It’s too horrible to say out loud.
“Newer? What are you getting at, Fennel?”
“Do any of them have long, curly brown hair?”
“Not that I see. Some of them have wisps of grayish-looking hair; most don’t have any at all. Why, what’s going on?”
I hold my stinging hands to keep them from shaking. “Nothing, I must be hearing things.”
But I wasn't.
One of the creatures spoke. It said, Help me.
And it sounded exactly like Rose.
Chapter Five
I’m back at the top of the sled track, two more sacks filled and delivered. My feet are bare, shoes discarded somewhere along the path. I lean against a tree trunk, waiting for the sun to suck the most intense heat with it below the horizon before I venture to the water hole to drink. The food Eland and Aloe gave me is long gone. I’m numb from fatigue and hunger. The idea of spending the night among the flesh-eaters isn’t even that frightening anymore.
I stagger down to the water, fall on my hands and knees, and drink like an animal. As I clean my filthy face and hands, I can tell my skin will be swollen with sunburn by morning. The creatures hover, shuffling and chewing their tongues. When will they go? I haven’t heard the sounds of a single animal since the Scourge came. What could they be feeding on? I hear Jack’s easy laugh and Rose’s tinkly voice in my mind, and I cringe. I haven’t heard . . . what I thought I heard . . . again. It’s almost a relief to be surrounded by the flesh-eaters’ shrieks and groans.
After drinking my fill, I drag myself back up the hill to the tree I was lying against before. It’s as good a place as any. I push together some leaves and brush to make a pillow, curl up, and almost instantly I’m asleep.
Something hits my head. I push myself up, confused.
“Fennel,” Peree says, “listen!”
I do, and fear crashes through me. A crowd of howling creatures encircles me. I pull my legs up under my chin, making myself smaller. “What are they doing? What’s happening?”
“Ever since you fell asleep they’ve been coming, gathering around you. They seem more aggressive. My arrows weren’t keepin
g them back, so I’ve been throwing things to wake you up. You need to go back to the caves.”
“Can’t,” I mumble. “Punished. Have to stay out here.” I try to stand, but I sink back down. My eyes sting like I’ve been rubbing dirt into them, and Peree’s voice sounds like it’s percolating from underwater. My cheek drops onto my arms.
“Try,” he pleads. “Try to stay awake. I’ll tell you a story.”
“More animals? Won’t be enough, too tired . . . ”
I’m walking on top of the water. I have an expansive, majestic pair of wings sprouting from the middle of my back. I can always “see” in my dreams, although I don’t know if what I picture is the same as what the sighted see. My wings begin to flap and I take off, low and slow, my feet skimming the surface. I revel in the speed, and the freedom. I’m starting to gain altitude, when I hear a shout from the shore. Something strikes my beautiful wing, and I crash into the water.
My right arm throbs. “Quit throwing things, Peree! Let me be!”
“It wasn’t me. Were you . . . bitten?” Horror strangles his voice.
I touch my arm. It’s not bleeding, but it hurts like hell. My voice shakes as I answer him. “I think I was, maybe.”
I pull myself up against the tree and almost topple over. The flesh-eaters scream at the sudden movement. I start to pace, my hand over the bite, but it’s hard to pace when you’re surrounded.
“How do you feel?” Peree’s voice is hollow now. “Any . . . different?”
Am I changing? I’m sick and dizzy with exhaustion, but I still feel like me. For now. “My arm hurts. How fast do you think it happens?”
“I’ve never seen someone change, but I’ve heard it’s quick.”
“I’ve heard that too,” I say.
“It’s like your protection faded when you fell asleep. Did Aloe say that could happen?”
“No, but I don’t think she ever slept with the fleshies.” Blood pounds in my ears, distorting the cries of the creatures. I realize I’m about to faint. I lodge myself against the tree and jam my head between my legs. When the fuzziness clears away a little, I straighten up slowly. “I’m scared, Peree.” A sob sticks in my throat.
The Scourge Page 5