Fugitive

by T. K. Malone

Now, after near ten years away, Teah’s fears for the Free World came flooding back. “Twitchy? What, you mean the fate of the world, of millions of people, comes down to whether a man can hold his temper?”

  “So rumor has it—still want your hair bleached?”

  Teah looked up at Jenny. She appeared defeated, a slump to her shoulders. She was clearly already resigned to death, so how it came, plainly made little odds to her. “Can you cut it short?” Teah asked, a sudden hankering to have it cut like she’d had it back when she’d been a stiff.

  “Shorter than it is?”

  “About an inch?”

  “Why girl? Longer makes you look pretty.”

  “Ain’t right in the mood for being pretty.”

  Jenny shrugged, “Use less of my bleach that way,” and she set about Teah with her scissors.

  “So, anything else going on with you and Saggers?”

  Teah felt herself blush. She’d certainly changed her opinion of him the previous day, and wondered if she hadn’t been foolish not to trust the rest of the folk here. But, she thought, how do you really know when you can start trusting strangers? Then again, that road led two ways.

  “No, but I’ve a spot for him that weren’t there before. He’s curiously brave in his own way, and not as shallow as he makes out.”

  “He ain’t had the best of luck.”

  “Saggers? Why?”

  Jenny stopped cutting and stepped away, sizing up her handiwork from the front. She frowned and snipped a few adjustments. “Father was a bastard, mother buggered off—folk say she fled up the valley and joined the compound up there. Saggers was left to mind his own life from about fourteen on. That ain’t easy up here, or weren’t, not until he took to cropping. Now he’s as popular as they come, but I guess by then he’d just gotten used to being lonely.”

  “But if he could have had his pick—”

  “He’d have chosen. Maybe his pick just wasn’t there to be picked. Who can tell?”

  “Well, he did right by me yesterday.”

  “He does right by most. Never charges for them smokes. Old Arthur’s not paid for one in his life. I swear it’s all that keeps him going.” She picked up an old cracked mirror, holding it before Teah so she could see her handiwork. “Just gotta mix the bleach and find an old bag. I’ve got some around here somewhere. Ned used to hoard them for some strange reason.”

  They sat out on the deck afterwards, Jenny on the swinging chair, her gray hair flowing around her head, and Teah on the wicker one, a bag on her head.

  “What’s Ray and Hannah’s story?” she asked.

  “Them two?” and Jenny considered for a moment. “Them two I’ve never quite fathomed. Never got married, as far as I know. He’s got a roving eye, though—he’s tried it on with just about everyone, ‘cept Arthur’s Ella—think she got away with it.” Jenny laughed at her own joke. Teah took a swig on her juice. “Him and her,” Jenny mused. “Can’t see why Hannah puts up with it, but she does, and she’ll come down hard on anyone who crosses him.”

  “Even if?”

  “Even if.”

  “And yet one wants me gone, and one doesn’t?”

  “I never said Hannah wants you to stay. I just said she made a case for you. Could be that she was testing the water, is all.”

  “So she could want me gone, too?”

  “Who knows?” and Jenny sighed. “Too much current under the surface to know where the river’s going to spill next.” She looked up at the sun. “Must be about done. Let’s go inside and see what a hash we’ve made of that hair of yours.”

  “Kick ass,” Jenny said, a little later, beaming as she walked around a seated Teah. “You look positively kick ass.”

  She did, too, even managing a smile for the old mirror. She felt it, as well. Somehow it brought back a long forgotten confidence, one she’d carried when she’d been a stiff, one Lester had probably begun to grind away with his boot that night she’d lost their fight.

  She took the trail on her way back. A few folk stared, but Teah didn’t care. She wanted the old Teah back, the one she’d lost somewhere along the way, the Teah who wouldn’t be scared of Jake or Ray, or of any hunter; the one who’d escaped the Black City without a second thought—that Teah.

  “What the hell?” Saggers said on seeing her bleached hair. “I said dye it to hide your identity, to meld with the rest, not stick out like a sore thumb.”

  “Don’t like it, then?”

  His lingering eyes told her otherwise. “Never said that.”

  As Jenny had predicted, Saggers had already instructed Clay on the finer points of growing weed, on drying the sprigs and even harvesting the seeds. “All in the great tradition of Tom Sawyer,” he said, but Teah hadn’t heard of the guy, nor had she a mind to enquire.

  “They had a vote,” she said.

  “Who did?”

  “The town. Some want rid of me.”

  “They’re just scared.”

  “What of? It’s me the hunter’s after. It’s me Jake’s after.”

  “And it’s attention they don’t want. Why do you think people live up here?”

  “Jenny says they ain’t all hiding from something.”

  “Everyone’s hiding from something,” Saggers muttered. “No one wants hunters up here. No one wants the army up here, either. Me least of all.”

  “So you want me gone too?” Teah asked, plopping down on the sofa. She looked across at him, trying to read his answer before he spoke it. He grinned instead.

  “’Course I want you gone. Wouldn’t have a hole in my side if I’d gotten rid of you yesterday morning.”

  “Ethan Saggers? You fixin’ on murdering me?” and Teah laughed.

  “In my state?” he said, palms held up. Clay came back in from the kitchen. He was looking proud of himself.

  “All hung, Mr. Saggers.”

  “And you packed the others like I said?”

  “Yes, Mr. Saggers.”

  “Ethan.”

  “Yes…Ethan.”

  “Good. You can go rifle a few more boxes then. But mind you stack everything in lines. You don’t play with any till I’m down—deal?”

  “Deal,” and Clay ran off.

  “You’re easy with kids,” said Teah.

  “Never really had a problem with any folk, apart from single, good-looking women.”

  “What am I going to do, Ethan?”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Well, I can’t just sit here and wait.”

  Saggers tapped his chin. “Smoke?” Teah was beginning to wonder if it was his answer to everything.

  “Yeah. Why not.”

  He lit his, kicked his feet out and took a draw.

  “The army’s jittery, and that’ll shiver down all the way to the hunters. They’ll be trigger-happy.”

  “Why the army?”

  “Hell, ain’t no city police out here, no stiffs at all. Army runs it all.”

  “Jenny reckons war’s coming.”

  “Everyone reckons that, but everyone knows the stakes are too high. There ain’t going to be no war.”

  “What if there was, Ethan? What would you do?”

  “Do? Wouldn’t I be fried to a crisp?”

  “This far from the city? No, not if the wind’s blowing the right way. Grid cities first, any they mistake for one next, then known military bases. Up here…not so much of a target.”

  Saggers let out a puff of smoke. Teah was beginning to realize it was how he mulled things over. Thinking, it appeared, demanded weed. “So there’d be just us, the preppers and the military.”

  “Pretty much.”

  “So, they fight the shit outta each other, and once they’re done, we can all live peaceful like.”

  “No government, no military, no nothing,” Teah whispered.

  Saggers took a deep breath, held up his hand, but then let it drop before taking another drag on his smoke. He seemed to relax, letting his whole body go limp, but then a smile creased h
is face. “Now that would be mighty fine. I could sell my weed wherever I wanted. Though I’m now more positive than ever before that it won’t happen.”

  “Why?” she said, finally lighting her own smoke.

  “Because those bastards in the grid cities wouldn’t hand over power that easily. And they’re too selfish to die.”

  Teah laughed at that. It felt good to laugh. The grid cities gone—the Black City gone, in that case. That would mean, in all likelihood, that Zac and Connor would be gone as well, unless they got out. She wondered if Zac had sunk further into the bottle. Teah had seen it happening. As soon as he’d become entangled in Josiah Charm’s web, Zac had lost his impetus, had lost his shine. Josiah Charm; just the memory of that man made her shiver.

  “You gonna be alright in the basement?” Saggers asked.

  “Nope. But I’m going to fix things so I don’t have to hide there that long.”

  Saggers looked across at her, his eyes holding hers as he slowly nodded. “Then you might want to go help Clay. My father had a thing for killing.”

  7

  Teah’s story

  Strike time: minus 2 days

  Location: Morton Deep

  Gone was the cattleman, and she’d covered her blonde hair with one of Jenny’s black bandanas. It wasn’t that she hated it, quite the opposite. New look, new attitude—and she liked the attitude—but hiding in the woods and staring through Saggers’ binoculars at the town below meant bright blonde hair wasn’t the order of the day.

  Folk called the place Morton Deep. It sat on the banks of a lake about fifteen miles down the valley from Aldertown. Teah had already decided it looked far more homely than where she’d put down her roots, but then her roots never seemed to grow too deep, not recently, anyway. Saggers had hated the idea of Teah trekking to Morton, but knew that when she had a mind to do something, that something would get done.

  His father’s basement had been a treasure trove of gear. The binoculars were the gravy of the meat she’d found there: guns, crossbows and even an old sword. Teah had taken a day to get everything organized. It had then looked a bit like the armory at her old stiff’s headquarters, except they’d never had any swords. Even now, lying between two bushes on the edge of the woods and staring down the slope of the hillside at the town below, she smirked at that find. She hoped she’d get the time to learn how to use it, that and the crossbow. Lester had taught her how to use a bow and arrow, but the crossbow looked like a widow-maker if ever a weapon did. Besides, if everything went wrong with the world, as some were saying, even the preppers would run out of bullets.

  From where she hid, she could see Morton was about three times the size of Aldertown. It had a decent road that led toward the east and a couple of jetties on the lake where fishing boats were now moored. Most of the buzz appeared to be centered around a store on the main street that doubled as a bar. At least two army men had gone in while she’d been watching, but she’d not been here long enough to distinguish one customer from another. Recognition, she knew, would come in time. Morton would no doubt be like any other place, most of the folk harmless, maybe just a couple of interesting ones. Even though stakeouts had been few and far between when she’d worked in the Black City, they had pretty much always followed the same pattern. The main actors in any scenario normally gave themselves away within a few hours.

  Teah continued to watch. She was in no hurry. If there were hunters about, she would spot them soon enough. The real question was: “Were there any at all?”. After all, it was just Ray’s assumption, his theory that Jake had sold her out. What if it had been him who’d earned the coin that had bought the gas? Or what if he’d just robbed it and bought a ticket into the prepper’s compound with a cart full of stolen gasoline?

  She shuffled back and sat against the tree trunk behind her. Whether she found anything or not didn’t really matter. It was good to get on the front foot again, and certainly beat hiding in Saggers’ basement. Then again, she’d only spent two nights down there so far.

  It had taken her the best part of the day to get here, and now dusk threatened. In a town of just fifty odd people, any stranger would stick out like a sore thumb. So she wriggled down a bit, got herself comfortable and pulled out a sandwich Jenny had made her.

  After a while, the hum of an engine brought her from her musing. It was faint at first, but distinctive in this world of bird chatter, rustling undergrowth and occasional gusts of wind. It faded but then got louder, then faded and got louder again. Teah scanned the lake, wondering if it might be a boat’s surging engine as it made for one of the jetties, but it carried on getting louder. She slumped onto her chest, elbows crooked, binoculars raised.

  The grind of wheels on the potholed road soon got mixed with the engine’s hum, and a jeep nosed into sight. It pulled up right next to the store and its driver and a passenger got out, yelping and whooping as they rounded the hood, high fiving each other. One was powerfully built, wearing a cowboy hat, a fancy waistcoat, straight jeans and heeled boots. It amazed Teah how these folks had gone back in time, gone cowboy. But then she guessed everyone needed roots, something to give them an identity. Then she remembered her cattleman and how it made her feel, and finally understood.

  The other man was all hair, though, with a bushy brown beard and long curly locks gathered into a headscarf. He wore a heavy khaki jacket and combats, and proper boots. He was the one, Teah thought; he was the one she would have to defeat first—the problem. There was now no doubt in her mind that they were her would-be killers, no doubt at all.

  They made their way into the bar, and Teah continued to watch for a while. From the hoots and hollers that eventually rang out, she reckoned they’d put their search for her aside for the time being. Saggers had told her the commission would come from the army, that it would be just the two—that it was always just two. He’d also told her they’d be well-equipped.

  She waited another two hours before deciding they’d have been well and truly soaked by now, and so retreated into the woods, where she found a comfortable-looking hollow, pulled Lester’s coat around her, and hunkered down. It had been a long hike, and she had time on her side.

  It was dark when she woke, and it took her a while to figure out where she was. Begrudgingly, she accepted that even her basement bed was more comfortable than this. She sat up and made her way to her vantage point. Below, the town of Morton was fast asleep.

  From the look of the night sky, Teah guessed it was a few hours before dawn. Part of her wanted to go back to Aldertown, to pick up Clay and run, but she knew she couldn’t do that for ever. The Free World knew where she was now, and they’d want her dead, rightly so. After all, they couldn’t have a deserter roaming free, even if no one would know, even if everyone from her old life probably thought she was dead already.

  Leaving behind Lester’s coat, and stashing her drawstring bag, bow and a quiver full of arrows, she descended the hillside toward Morton. It was dark, but not so dark she couldn’t find her way with a bit of care. And care, she now knew, was everything. Lester had taught her that, taught her how to walk without making a sound, how to approach her prey from the right direction—even when the wind kept shifting direction. Somehow, Lester had taught her an instinct, how to judge how heavy the air was, how to sense things before they happened. He’d had this theory that bad things had a certain smell, like rotten meat, and that if you could recognize its stench, you could duck out of the way in time. He’d asked her if she’d ever just known that something was about to go wrong, and she’d said “Yes”. He never asked her what, though. Never pried. But he’d nodded sagely and told her he’d taught her all he could.

  She missed Lester. In two years he’d taught her more than anyone else in her whole life. He’d trained her to fight with a knife, to string a bow, and to notch an arrow, and all manner of other important stuff. Now she could fish, hunt and defend herself, but most of all, he’d taught her what she’d done wrong on that rainy day on the trail
. She’d then understood why she’d ended up face down in the mud, his boot on her cheek.

  “You played by the rules,” he’d said. “Never play by them, not out here. Think of nature as a myriad of unexpected opportunities. Whenever one presents itself, girl, you just got to take it. No ‘ifs’, no ‘buts’. You just grab that chance by the scruff of its neck and wring it for all its worth. That’s why you lost. You were better than me, but I saw it, saw you overstretch and expose your arm, the one I snapped, just like that. That’s why I won; that’s why you lost.” She smiled as she thought of him, wishing she’d had more time with him.

  Crouching by a bush, she breathed the air in deeply, slowly, searching for any taint it shouldn’t have. Then she listened. An owl hooted and an animal scurried, but nothing else, all still. When she eventually got down into town and onto the main street, she found the jeep still parked up outside the bar. Its front seats were empty and no sound came from the back. They must have paid for a room, she thought, trying the door. Teah cringed when it clicked.

  Easing it open, she peered into the space behind the two front seats. A steel mesh with a padlocked hatch kept it secure. Lax, she thought, but not stupid. Even in the poor light, she could tell it held an armory; they’d come well prepared. At least she now knew what she was up against.

  Walking around the back, she saw the rear was welded shut, a spare tire attached to it. Pulling out her knife, she gave it the smallest of stabs. The hiss of air made her heart stop. She ducked down, close to the jeep. A raking cough erupted from the store—some drunk, probably still slumped on the counter. Quiet soon returned, the night falling still once more, and she stole her way back up to the woods to retrieve her gear.

  A plan was forming in her mind, not a great one, but a plan nonetheless. Teah made her way along the edge of the woods until Morton was no longer in sight before dropping down onto the road. It was madness, she knew, but somehow she had to stop them before they found her, before they got to Aldertown. If they made it there and she came out of their encounter alive, her and Clay would be done for anyway. Ray and his cronies would either finish her off or run her out of town, and she’d have to start over. No, she thought, she had to get it done before it could come to that.