by Eve Langlais
“Am I supposed to care?” he retorted.
“You tell her, boss,” shouted Randy, a handy guy who rotated on guard duty with Vera and the others, as he rolled a barrow over to a truck.
Axel could have sighed as she flipped back her hair and gaped at him. “Boss? Of what?”
She was about to see. Her comments about Wastelanders were spoken out of ignorance, not malice. Which meant showing her the truth.
If she did return to a dome and spilled her guts to the Enclave, she could describe it all she wanted. She’d never be able to point it out on a map.
He swept an arm. “Say hello to Hill Haven.” Soon to be abandoned—right after he found somewhere new.
She glanced around, ignoring him in favor of her surroundings. “What is this place?”
“Home.”
“It looks old.” Her nose wrinkled. “And it smells.”
He couldn’t disagree. Many stale scents were embedded in the place. He hated staying in here for too long. They really needed to do more to exchange the air inside, yet leaving those large doors open for any length of time could lead to discovery, given the increase in Enclave patrols.
Rather than reply, he grabbed her by the upper arm and forced her to follow as he strode to the rear of Haven. It required weaving through the vehicles, more than a half-dozen currently parked. He nodded good mornings to those he passed. He was sure more than few kept watching. His stumbling prisoner in her bright white robe drew attention.
She was clumsy, partially because she kept craning to look around, her mouth gaping. Could be she truly was surprised at everything she saw, or she was acting because she’d been sent as a spy.
The more he thought about it, the more it seemed strange. She was too old to suddenly change castes. Creche sawr to Madre. His understanding was they took them young.
But a spy…it would make perfect sense.
“You have lots of vehicles,” she noted.
“You can’t exactly walk far in the Wasteland.” If the wildlife didn’t kill a person, the sudden storms or occasional environmental oddity would get them.
A chunk of the inhabitants of Hill Haven stood in line for food. A line that parted at his approach. Not because he’d ever demanded any kind of fealty; they’d just started fucking doing it and wouldn’t stop. If he didn’t go to the front, they’d melt away and somehow end up behind him.
“Morning, Axel,” someone said.
He nodded and kept dragging Laura long.
As they reached the steaming vats of food, she glanced behind. “Are all these people marauders, too?”
“Yup.” Seemed simpler to agree than explain they were just people trying to survive. He’d found most of them. Usually in trouble. So he helped them. Then they kind of didn’t leave.
He stopped in front of the first tub of food. The steam rose hotly, redolent of eggs. They had an actual kitchen and chef these days, which required a lot more attention than simply feeding himself did. He’d learned how to trade and then passed off that chore to someone who enjoyed it. He’d stick to pillaging.
Benny’s partner, Karlos, dealt with the buying and selling of goods with other Wasteland colonies. Inside Hill Haven, there was no room for growing food, but a few of the people had branched out and started farming the outskirts of the Ajatarai Forest.
Only time would tell if it would pay off. The Ajatarai Forest was a dangerous place, and it fought hard against encroachment. It wasn’t unusual to build a small hut and return a few days later to find it gone, buried under leaves and roots and dirt.
“This is breakfast?” Laura asked, looking around incredulously.
“Yup.” Axel grabbed a metal plate and thrust it at her, only to remember her hands. He could untie her, but that might give her the wrong idea.
Hell, it might give him the wrong idea. Wouldn’t do to see her as someone in need of rescue. Casey once claimed he had a hero complex. Vera had outright said it last night, too.
He didn’t. He could make the tough decisions. Like trading a woman for something more valuable. Now if only that idea didn’t sit so sourly.
“There’s so much food,” she murmured.
“Lots of people to feed.” He snared a second plate and held both out. Eggs were ladled, the yolks blue from being exposed to the Wasteland dust as opposed to the city version, which was yellow. The next vat had sausage, a new addition to the menu since Benny learned how to make it from that traveler who traded knowledge for a place to lay his head a few days. The third container held some kind of mush that was probably plant based. Benny insisted they eat some with every meal.
To drink, a bitter blend of dried leaves boiled in water eased with a dollop of honey, a supply they’d soon need to replenish. They’d gotten lucky last year. No one died during the harvest. The nuclear-sized bees didn’t take kindly to sharing and, with stingers the length of an arm, could be deadly if riled.
He nudged her toward a trestle table and, once she sat down, placed the trays in front of her before returning to grab the tea.
She said nothing as he sat beside her, dragged his food close, and began to eat. She didn’t.
“Something wrong?”
When she didn’t reply, he glanced at her hands in her lap. The wrists bound. He’d grabbed her a fork, but it wasn’t as if she could go far with that as a weapon.
The knife was out of his sheath before the thought even formed, and he sliced the bonds, freeing her hands. “Eat,” he commanded.
“This is food?” Her gaze was fixated on the plate.
The way she said it had him glancing at her. “It’s on a plate, ain’t it?”
She turned his way. “What is it?”
The question slowed the forkful heading for his mouth. “Eggs. Sausage. What looks to be sweet turnip sauce.”
Her expression remained puzzled. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”
It prompted him to ask, “What do you usually eat?”
“The morning meal is porridge. The midday meal is optional. Many choose to skip the protein paste.”
“You mean the sludge?” He grimaced. “Ugh. We only have that shit if there is nothing else to eat. What of supper?”
“Broth usually. Sometimes with spongy squares for dipping.”
“Spongy squares?” He grimaced. “Sounds appetizing.”
For some reason, his remark drew a shy smile. “It’s not.”
“I assure you this is.”
“Is it safe?” She looked at it longingly.
“Stole it from a truck heading to your Creche just a week ago,” he lied. If he told her she ate Wasteland produce, she might decide to starve.
“We don’t eat that in the Creche.”
“The sawrs don’t. I’ll guarantee those above you eat better.”
She grabbed the fork and stared a second longer before digging in. She tried the eggs first, and he found himself watching her. Staring at her expression as she chewed and swallowed.
“So? What do you think?”
“They’re fluffy.”
“Are they salty enough? Maybe you want some pepper?” He leaned forward and grabbed the shakers, setting them beside her.
“You have salt?” She held up the container in admiration.
The deprivation of the simple things struck him.
She shook some on and then ate the eggs again, devouring them. Then the sausage, which she declared chewy but delicious. When she would have salted the sweet turnip, he stayed her hand. “Try it first.”
This time she didn’t argue or delay, just shoved a spoonful into her mouth. Her eyes rounded. She ate another and another, cleaning her plate so fast he shoved his at her.
She met his regard for a second, smiled, small and mischievous, before eating his too and then slumping with a groan. “I think I ate too much.”
“You don’t seem as if you eat enough.” Her thin frame didn’t have any spare weight.
“The Creche gives us only what we need.”
When he returned to her side, it was to find her with an audience. Vera might have left on the fool’s errand he’d sent her on, but Nikki was wide-awake and curious. She sat beside Laura while Gunner sat across from her.
“Didn’t I send you out on a mission with Cam and Casey?”
Gunner looked up. “I got bored. Came home.”
Which was a lie. Only one reason he would have returned and that was because he had news.
“Nikki, keep an eye on our prisoner while I talk to Gunner.”
The woman, with her red hair shorn short and a glint in her eye, nodded. “No worries. Laura and I will have a nice chat.”
Somehow Axel doubted that. But anything Nikki learned she’d relay to him.
He and Gunner moved away from the eating area, his friend keeping quiet until they reached the area by the front door. Well away from everyone else.
“What’s wrong?”
“Darren and his crew never made it to the Styx.” The name they’d given the gray river that exited the forest and went through some of the humps before veering away from Hill Haven. They’d dug a canal that ran off from it, drawing a portion of it close enough to Hill Haven to use. After they purified it of course. “By the signs of it, they were ambushed.”
“By what?”
The Ajatarai Forest hid so many perils. Beasts with impossible-sized paws and claws. There also existed some creatures with even worse weapons at their disposal.
“I think it was an Enclave patrol.”
It took Axel a moment to process before he murmured, “Are you sure?”
Gunner rolled his shoulders. “Not one hundred percent, but pretty high up there. Looks like whoever attacked tried to wipe their tracks. And they were good at it. I almost mistook it for a Tigber attack.” Which usually meant lots of blood, no bodies.
“But they made a mistake obviously.”
“A comm unit.” Gunner pulled it from his pocket. The metal body of it dented, the screen cracked. A communication device that didn’t always work as expected. The Wasteland had a way of screwing with signals.
“Could have been one of ours dropped it.”
Gunner shook his head. “It’s not ours. Too new despite the damage. I also found a foil pack.” The rations given to Enclave soldiers in the field. “Given the evidence, and the fact my damned comm fritzed again, I came back to tell you.”
“What of Casey and Cam?”
“They’re still out there, trying to track the squad down. See what they know. If it’s a coincidence they’re in the area or if it’s the prelude to a possible attack.”
The possibility had Axel pinching the bridge of his nose in thought. “Either way, we need to be on guard. Pull in all non-essentials. Keep door traffic to after dark only. Have people ready to go on short notice.”
“I’ll tell Benny to run a drill. What of the farmers by the woods?”
His lips flattened. “We can’t do much for them. Hopefully the Enclave will think them too small to bother.” Not likely, but he knew better than to waste resources that would spread them too thin. He had to think of the majority. Especially those who couldn’t defend themselves.
“Should I return and give Cam and Casey a hand, or do you want me scouting farther out?”
“Neither. I might need you to help me do a trade.”
Gunner frowned. “Trade of what? The truck we just brought in?”
“No. The woman.”
The statement turned Gunner’s lips down. “You can’t be serious.”
“She can’t stay here.”
“Why not?”
“For one, she hates me.” The words spilled out of him.
Gunner paused before laughing. “Did your prisoner hurt your feelings?”
“No.” He wasn’t about to say maybe, because, as he’d already told her, he didn’t care.
“Fuck off. You are peeved.” Gunner snickered. “Must have been nice sharing a bed with her then.”
His fist almost met Gunner’s smirk. Almost. He frowned. “I didn’t touch her.” She’d splayed herself atop him.
“If you say so.”
“I’m having Karlos put out some feelers to our usual places, see if we can find a taker.”
“You mean a slave buyer.” Gunner’s words were low and acrid. “I don’t like it. The Enclave buys and sells people. We don’t.”
“We don’t sell our people, but this a case where she wants to return. Might as well get something for handing her back.”
“That’s splitting it pretty close,” Gunner remarked.
“I have to think about the good of the group.”
“If you asked the group, the answer might surprise you.”
“You know we need supplies. And supplies require funds. We don’t have any. We can’t keep stealing.”
“Are we so desperate we’d sell someone, though?”
“What do you think?”
Gunner sighed. “That I hate you might be right. We could use some stuff, and if she doesn’t want to stay, then aren’t we also doing her a disservice? She is pretty. She should fetch a good price despite her age.”
Now it was Gunner’s acceptance that bothered Axel. “She’s not old.”
“Maybe to you. She will be to others.”
Axel laid out the basic plan. “Once we find a buyer, we’ll move out and rendezvous to make an exchange. I’ll want you along with me. Cam and Casey, too. We’ll take the buggy and the bikes.” Quick and light, they could fly where the bigger lumbering trucks couldn’t.
“When should we be ready to go?”
“A day or two would be my guess. Gotta get the message out and wait for a reply, then Karlos will insist on a bit of haggling.”
“Also depends on the signals cooperating.” Gunner nodded. “Since we have a few days, I’m going to peek around, see if I spot any more signs of the Enclave soldiers sneaking around.”
“If you find some, don’t engage.”
“Unless I can take them out.”
Axel growled. “Don’t be stupid.” Not the first time Gunner suggested preemptively striking. In his youth, Axel totally understood the urge. Free the people. Open the domes. Stop the attacks on Wastelanders.
But small roving bands couldn’t put a dent in the machine that was the hierarchy of the Enclave.
Or could they? He’d heard a rumor of someone styling themselves king, offering an alternative. Flouting the laws of the Enclave to make rules of their own. The problem with this particular rumor was no one knew where this supposed kingdom lay.
“There is nothing wrong with eliminating a threat.” Gunner still hadn’t fully learned the lesson of conceal, not fight. In a fight, someone always lost.
“If you die, I’m not avenging you.”
Gunner grinned. “I’ll be careful. Wouldn’t want you to miss me.”
“The only one who will miss you is Dottie. She’s soft on you.”
Dottie was also the second oldest person they had in the Hill. She’d found Hill Haven somehow. Stood outside waiting patiently, and when he emerged from their secret tunnel to bark at her, Dottie said, “About time you popped out.”
“Who are you?” he’d asked.
“Dottie. And I’ve come to live in your fiefdom.”
At the time, he’d laughed off the word even as he escorted her into her new home. Dottie had a way of knowing things, and when she spoke, most listened. She also offered an ear to anyone who needed it, sitting in her chair all day by the warmth of the charging batteries, her needles clacking as she knitted, creating massive swatches of pearled fabric that she then undid over and over to reuse the yarn. And if someone brought her a new ball of it? She added it to the end of her current strand and kept knitting. Only rarely did she ever make something and actually snip it free to
give as a gift.
“You’re still jealous she made me that hat.” A woolen thing presented out of the blue after Gunner returned from patrol, the tips of his ears a little frostbitten from a sudden arctic storm.
“I have an entire scarf,” Axel boasted. Given to him not long ago with the warning to take it with him whenever he left Haven because he’d need it soon.
Only idiots ignored Dottie when she gave advice.
Gunner left, and Axel weaved his way through the trucks to find Nikki still talking to Laura, who stood stiff and angry beside the table. As he neared, he caught part of the argument.
“…ask him to stay. He’ll grant you asylum.”
Ah fuck. Nikki was interfering.
Only it had no effect. Laura looked right at him and said, “She thinks you’re going to sell me back to the Enclave.”
Since he wasn’t supposed to care, he said, “Yeah. That’s the plan. We’ve got messages going out—to the Incubaii Dome, the market in the city, even the Creche—to see how much they’ll pay to get you back.”
Nikki hissed. “Bastard. You can’t sell her.”
But Laura looked relieved. “I would very much like that. Thank you.”
Seven
His brows drew together angrily. His entire expression shifted, his ire truly great, but why? Laura could only surmise it was her reply, because he’d not shown anger before.
Not like Nikki. That woman had said the vilest things to her. Trying to tell her that being a Madre was horrible. That it involved abuse she couldn’t imagine.
She’d refused to listen. Everyone knew the Madres were revered. Or so the Academy taught them. After the things Axel had said to her, though, she wondered how much of it was true.
“You heard the woman. She wants to go back.” There was mockery in Axel’s words, and she couldn’t understand it. Couldn’t figure out why it stung.
“You can’t be seriously thinking of giving her to them? No one deserves that, not even a moron.” Nikki glared pointedly at Laura, the insult blatant.
Laura drew herself tall. “Excuse me? You have no right to call me names.”
“Shut up, you brainwashed twat. I wasn’t talking to you,” Nikki said.