by Cadle, Lou
“Then,” said the man. “We may have found you in time.”
For what?
Benjamin spoke again. “Sir, we didn’t realize we were trespassing on your territory. We’ll just pack up—”
“You will not,” said the man. “My name is Calex. And you’ll be coming back home with us. Tithing will decide what is to become of you.”
Tithing? Like…they were going to cut 10% of her away and eat it, and that’d decide her fate? Coral would rather break into a run and dive into the half-frozen lake, push herself under, and die that way. It would only hurt for a short time.
“He’ll know what’s best,” said the man.
After a confused moment, Coral realized a man’s name must be Tithing. She risked another glance to Benjamin.
A tiny shake of his head she read as, “Say nothing. Do nothing.”
If she could think of anything useful to do, she would do it anyway, no matter what he signaled. Problem was, she couldn’t think of a thing. They were outgunned. The rifle was too far away to lunge for it. Her bow and arrows were still on the sled.
In a half hour, under the direction of the men, they had their things packed. Benjamin’s rifle was in Calex’s possession. Her pocket knife was still in her jeans pocket. Despite them having searched Benjamin, they hadn’t touched her—not yet.
The longest blade on her pocket knife was not very long. If she had a chance, and only one man guarded her, she could jab the blade or the corkscrew into his eye, and that might allow them a chance to escape. But with more than one man, the pocket knife was no help.
As they walked, Benjamin in harness, Coral ahead of him, following the tracks their capturers had left on the way here, the other man introduced himself as Alva and said, “I’m sure you’ll be glad to see some other ladies again.” He was short, dressed in many layers for warmth, and wore one of those drugstore paper masks, once white, now stained gray with ash.
Coral said cautiously, “That’d be nice.”
“I’m sure they’ll be able to find a dress you can wear.”
A dress in this freezing weather? They’d have to hold her down and force it on her first.
“I wonder,” said Coral, trying to sound deferential. “If you know what happened back in June.”
“A day of reckoning,” said the man. And he sounded happy about it. “And a day of great change.”
Coral said, “I see.”
“You probably don’t,” said Alva. “But you will.”
That sounded like a threat to Coral, a threat that he’d make her agree with his version of what had happened, whether or not she wished to. She wondered. As hungry and tired as she was, as pessimistic as she felt about ever seeing her family or anything approaching the normal world again…maybe she could be brainwashed. Wasn’t that how it happened? First you broke the person down, and then they would believe anything. They’d confess to anything, change a lifetime of values and beliefs. They’d break.
The Event had broken her most of the way already. Yes, she had gained survival skills, and she had proven to be tougher than she ever knew she could be. But hunger, exhaustion, grief, and fear had left her vulnerable. She knew that she had to reach inside herself and prepare for whatever happened next. She made herself a solemn vow to stay strong, no matter what they tried to do to her mind…or to her body.
They traveled all morning, following a frozen stream, until they came to the outskirt of a settlement. She stopped dead when she saw a barbwire pen with a goat—no, two goats. An answering honking in the distance noise made her jump.
“Don’t worry. That’s our donkey,” said Alva. “Jubilee is his name. He’ll be out hauling supplies for us.”
“How did the animals survive the fire? And the heat?”
“In a cave.”
“Me, too.”
“Well then, that proves it. You were meant to find us.”
They moved down a well-beaten path in the snow to a clearing with three small stone buildings, and a small brick structure that she realized, as they passed it, was a barbecue pit. A fourth, larger building was set back from the others.
Alva pointed to a woman coming toward them. “There’s Brynn now. She’ll get you settled.”
Calex went to speak quietly with the woman, who stared at Coral the whole time.
When he returned, he and Alva led Benjamin away, and Coral started to follow.
“Girl, get back where you belong,” said Calex.
Coral stopped, confused. She didn’t want to let Benjamin out of her sight. Suddenly, she realized that no one was within twenty yards of her, though the woman was headed this way.
Should she run? No. She couldn’t leave Benjamin. She’d risk a bullet in the back to get away, if she were alone. But she wouldn’t leave him.
And who knew what this place might have to offer? Animals, for one thing, so they might have food. Was that worth the risk of staying here? If the two of them were fed well, staying a few days might be okay. But she worried that getting away might not be that easy.
The woman walked up to her. She was white, middle aged, had unruly eyebrows and a firm expression. She was wearing a long patchwork skirt. “I’m Miz Duhalde. Brynn.”
“Coral,” she said.
“Are you chosen?”
She had no idea how to answer. “I suppose it depends on who does the choosing.”
The woman gave her a sharp look. “I don’t want any smart aleck answers.”
“I wasn’t being smart,” she said. “Though I’m going to take a guess that your group and I don’t share a belief system.”
“You’re here now.” The message was clear. Forget your ways. You’ll believe ours now.
I am here, she thought—and I really don’t want to be stuck here. Let me make that clear. “We appreciate your hosting us for the night.” She emphasized the last words.
“You come on over into the sisterhouse, and I’ll get you something to wear.”
Coral glanced at herself. She was filthy, which she’d grown used to over the weeks, but she’d spend a day being polite in exchange for a bath and a couple of solid meals. “Do you have soap?” she asked.
“Baths on Saturday night,” said the woman. “You can wash up today.”
“And what day is it today?”
“Why wouldn’t you know? Are you touched in the head?”
“I’ve been too busy surviving to keep a diary.”
“I don’t need you to be smart with me, I said.”
“Was that smart? Probably exhaustion is what you’re hearing. And hunger. Calex drove us like cattle getting here, and I haven’t eaten much for several days.” She corrected herself. “Several weeks.”
“Let’s get you presentable, first,” the woman said. “Dinner’s in a few hours.”
Brynn pointed to one of the smaller stone buildings.
As Coral neared it, she could see it wasn’t an old building, as she had assumed from a distance, but a new one. The stones were piled up to form walls thick at the base and thinner at the top. The stones were not mortared. She wondered if it were safe to enter. “Is one of you a stone mason?” she asked, hoping the answer would be “yes.”
“Polly,” the woman called, ignoring the question. “Come on out here.”
A girl, twelve or so, emerged from the stone cabin, wearing a faded denim dress under a jacket two or three sizes too large for her. The lower part of her calves was covered with thick socks, two or three layers of them, by the looks of it.
“Zip that jacket all the way up,” said Brynn to the girl, “and go get a pitcher of wash water for this woman.”
The door was only a wool blanket tacked over the open doorway. Coral pushed through it into a single room, smelling faintly of urine and human sweat. There was no heat source, so it was as cold as the outdoors, but at least she was protected from the wind.
“Take off your jacket, let me see your size,” said Brynn.
Coral hugged it to her. “I’m cold.”
“You’ll get it back.” When Coral didn’t move, she said, “I promise.”
Reluctantly, Coral peeled off her outer wear. Long bolts had been inserted between the stones during the building process and stuck out of the walls to be used as pegs, and a sweater and a dress were already hung there. She started to hang her jacket, but Brynn gestured for it, looked it over, then tossed it aside on a cot.
Brynn handed her a sleeveless shift, made of burlap or some other rough material, attached at the shoulders and down the sides, the simplest of garments. “This should fit you.”
“I’d be too cold.”
“Put your sweater on over it. But we can’t have you looking like a man, in those dungarees.”
“That makes no sense. You’d rather have a woman trip over a skirt, or get frostbite on her legs?”
“One more word,” she said, leaving the thought unfinished. But her pinched lips and narrowed eyes were eloquent.
Coral thought about the implied threat. Would she be slapped, beaten, punched? Killed for refusing? She didn’t want to find out. She’d put on the dress for a day just to shut the woman up. She stripped off her boots and undid her jeans, letting them drop to her ankles and stepping out.
“Heavens!” said the woman. “You don’t have any underthings!”
“They fell apart from being worn every day,” Coral explained. She was cold and she was embarrassed—and mad at herself for feeling embarrassed. Survival didn’t leave a lot of time for fashion considerations. Upon reflection, she was happy she didn’t have her panties any longer, for their skimpy cut would have surely drawn the wrath of the woman even more than their absence.
“We don’t have extra. Maybe we can cut down those jeans and—”
“No!” said Coral. “These keep me warm!” She couldn’t risk having her clothes cut up. She needed them for when she left. And the sooner that happened, she was thinking, the better.
“I suppose one of the men might fit into them, after we wash them repeatedly.”
Well, screw you, lady. Coral thought, giving her jeans a sharp shake and thrusting one foot in. She felt the lump of her knife still in the pocket. Good.
As she was tugging her jeans up over her knees, the girl walked in, carrying a pitcher of water. She gasped. “Sister Brynn, she has no underwear on!”
“Put down the water and get out, Polly.” Brynn got in Coral’s face. “And you, hand over those men’s pants so I can give you your dress.”
“I think I’ll leave, thank you anyway,” said Coral, leaning back from the woman’s warm, meaty breath.
“You’ll leave when Tithing tells you to leave, and not a moment before.”
“Yeah? Stop me,” said Coral, pulling up the jeans and buttoning them. She grabbed her jacket in one hand and snatched her boots with the other.
She pushed past the blanket door, transferring her jacket to her mouth to hold, then hopping on one foot while she yanked one boot on. She paused for a second as she jammed the second foot into the other boot. Her socks were shoved into the boots’ toes, and the laces were untied, but she still managed to jog the way the men had gone, past the girl Polly, who stared at her, openmouthed. Working her arms through her jacket sleeves, Coral slowed down to a fast walk when she realized that woman Brynn wasn’t chasing her. At the other end of the clearing, beyond another stone cabin, three men were unpacking the sled while Calex still held a rifle pointed generally in Benjamin’s direction. There was Alva working at unloading, and two other men.
“We’re leaving, Benjamin,” said Coral, loudly.
He glanced at her then at Calex, and he shook his head. Well screw him and screw all of them. She didn’t want a bunch of crazy people talking about underwear and mandatory dresses without so much as a “hey, how are you, how’s it been going these past awful months”—and she knew that what she’d seen so far wasn’t the tip of the iceberg of craziness here. If she acted as if it were her right to leave—and it was!—she might be able to bull her way past them, rifle or no rifle. A voice inside was telling her that she wasn’t being rational, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. This place felt bad, these people scared her, and fear was driving her past sensible behavior.
A blond man dropped her hatchet—hers!—back onto the sled and strode over to her.
She stood her ground and stared defiantly at him as he approached, pointing at the sled. “That’s my ha—”
His hand came around so fast, she barely caught sight of it as a blur. His palm connected with her cheek, and she staggered. She felt her jacket being pulled as she was yanked forward. He held on to her jacket while he hit her on the other side of the face with the back of his hand.
The one called Alva made a sound of protest.
She had never been slapped before. It didn’t just sting—it hurt! And her brains felt rattled. Tears blurred her vision. “Screw you,” she snarled at the blond man.
And then he hit her again, with a fist to the mouth, and her knees gave out. She sat down. The world swam. The outer edges of her vision blurred, disappeared, and the black collapsed. Everything turned to darkness.
*
She woke in the same cabin as before, lying on a cot, her own sleeping bag covering her. The girl Polly was sitting on another cot, sewing. Coral tried to sit up, and her vision swam. She dropped back down and shut her eyes. Her second concussion in four months, possibly—and that couldn’t be good. She was going to end up with that, oh, whadyacallit. That she couldn’t remember the name was a bad sign, and might mean she actually did have the…. Thing. Condition. Concussion-something. Damn, what was the name of it?
The girl, breaking into her thoughts, said, “I’ll get Brother Tithing now.”
Coral could hear her get up and push through the blanket doorway with a whisper of cloth. She really did not want to open her eyes, but she forced herself to ease one set of eyelids apart. She was alone in the cabin. She struggled halfway up, but the dizziness came back. She wasn’t going to be running away in the next few minutes.
Closing her eyes again, she pushed herself up quickly and sagged back against the wall, her feet hanging off the middle of the cot. The world was still spinning, despite that her eyes were closed. Her feet were cold. Her boots had been removed again. She pulled her legs back into a lotus position and pulled her bag up around her neck against the cold. Against her back, the cold of the bumpy stones leached into her.
She might not be in any shape to run right this moment, but she needed to make a plan to escape as soon as she could.
First, she needed to know, where were they keeping Benjamin? Under guard? Tied up? Or what? She opened one eye again, and the room was no longer spinning, so she risked opening the second. Everything looked strange, like she was looking through a wide-angle camera lens. Her head was well and truly messed up.
A different man brushed through the door. That made five men she knew about in the group, and every one counted was worse and worse news for her and Benjamin, especially if they had a rifle for every one. This one was fairly tall, with narrow shoulders, thinning hair, and a shaved face. He was the only beardless man she’d seen since The Event…not that she’d seen many men at all.
“I’m sorry about Pratt,” he said.
“Who’s Pratt? Who are you?” Coral said. “And what is this place?”
“It’s the farm,” he said. “I’m Tithing. And Brother Pratt is the gentleman who hit you. I apologize for him, and he’ll apologize himself later today.”
“Uhuh,” she said. “That’s okay. I don’t need an apology. Only my—and my friend’s—freedom.”
He spread his arms and inclined his head. “You have it.”
“Great.” She pushed to the front of the cot, but he bent and his hand stopped her.
“You should rest for a bit first. You’re free to go, but the things you had on the sled, those are now ours, I’m afraid. As is the sled, your man’s rifle, the fishing gear—he said that was yours?”
Sh
e nodded.
“I think you might find it difficult to survive out there without all of your things.” His expression was sympathetic. “You look like you had a difficult time even with all of it.”
Coral said nothing.
“We’re willing to feed you and clothe you—”
“I have clothes.”
He went on as if she hadn’t spoken. “And help you prepare.”
For what? Being cooked for dinner?
“You can certainly go if you’d like, but first, I’d like the chance to know if you are of the chosen or not.”
She really did not want to hear a religious lecture right now, not on top of everything else. “I doubt it.”
He held a finger up. “You might be but not yet know it. I’m experienced in this. It has been given me to know these things. Let me decide.”
“And you’ll be testing me somehow to decide?”
“In a sense,” he said, with a smile. It looked sincere, his face a mask of kindness.
Coral didn’t trust it one little bit. A pleasant mask could hide an evil heart. “Does this testing involve torture or rape?”
He physically recoiled from her, and his simper was replaced by a look of distaste that she thought was spontaneous—and real. “No, no. Nothing like that.”
“So it’s about punching me when I disagree with you or refuse to put on a dress. Are those parts of your test?”
“I’m sorry about Pratt, truly sorry. I don’t hold with corporal punishment, but Pratt has problems controlling his temper. I’ve told him, you can’t possibly be ready until that’s under control, and the time is growing short, but still he struggles. I only hope….” He trailed off. “But that’s not important to you. I wanted to welcome you to the farm and tell you that you’ll be safe, and fed, and ask you if you needed anything.”
“My gear and Benjamin, and not getting shot in the back as I leave. That’s all I need. Unless you can throw in some food, too.”
He gave her another practiced smile and stood. “I’ll see you at dinner, then. Tomorrow, you’ll be given a work assignment. But today, you should rest. You look like you need a good nap. I’ll have Brynn fetch you your own cot before night, but for now, you can rest where you are.”