by Hannah Ross
Michael grunted. "Sure she complains. You have four kids. But I'll tell you what the problem is, Mac. I'll tell you why it's gotten so hard to find stuff lately." He jabbed a finger into his friend's chest, getting more and more heated as he spoke. "It's not because this city hasn't got enough for all the camps, because that's bullshit and you know it. The problem is Barry and the way he hoards more than he can use. Space, fuel, ammo, clothes…anything useful. You know he does that to spite us."
"Is that why we're going to the West side?" Ben asked. He was seventeen now, taller than Michael, taller than most men at the camp except Mac and Andy, and was not afraid to speak his mind. "So you can settle your score with Barry?"
"No. We're going there to show Barry he doesn't own this city. Somehow, there's this unwritten rule only the Bears can go into some districts. And in case you haven't noticed, these districts are multiplying with each year that goes by. Soon we won't be able to set a foot anywhere without trespassing on what Barry calls his. Well, I won't have it."
Ben held his tongue. He knew it would do no good to keep arguing. Much changed in five years, but Michael remained the same fearless, quick-tempered, easy to laugh, sometimes cynical, always loyal person he was when they first met. Everything he did, he did for the camp. Ben had to give him credit there. But he could not help thinking he would have done some things differently, if only he had the chance.
They walked on. There were more people in the city these days, fresh outcasts who joined other camps, or set up their own, and sometimes the Grey Eagles ran into them while raiding the city. From time to time, several camps would meet for a get-together, an exchange of local news, and some trade. But never here. They were now deep in Fat Bears territory, and Ben wondered why nobody yet tried to stop them. The mystery was soon resolved when they entered a narrow street. Several figures appeared ahead of them, and footsteps sounded behind as well. Michael stopped and spun around, then looked forward. Ben did the same. Yes, we're cornered and outnumbered, and there's no way to escape.
"Well, hello there, Michael," Barry the Bear said as he stepped out from the shadow of a building in front of them. His hard smile belied his pleasant tone. "Fancy seeing you here."
Michael remained cool. "Don't know why you sound surprised. We used to hang out here a lot last year."
"Last year," repeated Barry, "was last year. Now this street is mine. I thought you had enough brains to learn that, Mike."
Michael's hands coiled into fists, and he looked ready to pounce. Ben knew that was not a good sign and placed a restraining hand on his shoulder.
"We were just walking, OK?" he called out to Barry. "Let us pass and we'll go due north. The Wild Cats' camp is there. Or do you have a problem with that as well?"
"No," said Barry. "The Wild Cats aren't stupid enough to cross paths with me."
"Alright, then," said Ben. "We'll be going now."
"The hell we will!" Michael shrugged Ben's hand off his shoulder. "I'm not going anywhere."
"Too damn right you aren't," said Barry, his voice deadly calm to accompany his now sickening little smile. "Enzo," he called across his shoulder, "Luc."
Barry's two chief sidekicks stepped forward, rubbing their knuckles. Simultaneously, those at the back started advancing toward the Grey Eagles. They all looked almost as big and bulky as Barry himself, and outnumbered the Eagles at least two to one, but Michael was either too angry to be frightened or simply good at hiding his terror.
"Step back," he told Enzo and Luc, raising his finger. "Step back. I'm warning you."
Someone's fist jammed into someone's jaw, and all hell broke loose. There was no choice. Together with everyone else, Ben kicked and punched and wrung arms, trying his best not to harm anybody from his own camp in the ensuing chaos. On his right, he saw Jimmy taking on Enzo, using his head as a battering ram to punch his enemy's stomach so hard Enzo came sliding down a wall, all wind knocked out of him.
Barry himself did not take part in the fight. He stood a little aside, his arms crossed, watching it all with an expression of high amusement. This seemed to drive Michael mad, and he broke forward, kicking both friends and foes aside to get to his arch-enemy.
"Careful, Michael!" warned Barry. "Trust me. You don't want to do this."
There was something in Barry's voice that made everyone stop and stare. Fists froze in mid-air and fell down without reaching their target. Slowly, Barry lifted the thing he was holding in his right hand and pointed it at his adversary. Michael found himself looking into the black barrel of a gun.
It can be said to his honor that he did not flinch, though everybody else did. There was a collective intake of breath. Nobody seemed in a mood to fight anymore.
Barry slowly nodded. "That's right. If you know what's good for you, Michael, you'll head back to your camp as quickly as you can. You'll say sorry first, though. And next time, try not to piss me off."
"You're a real piece of shit, aren't you, Barry?" Michael shook with suppressed rage. "Put that thing down. Are you forgetting the pact?"
The pact was long-standing and simple: no matter what conflict arose in the city, no one would use firearms against a fellow human being. Guns were for hunting only. This agreement was honored by every member of every camp. Until now.
"No. Say you're sorry and go home nice and quiet, and no one needs to get hurt. This is only a little lesson I'm teaching you. No one messes with the Bears."
"You're trying to frighten me, Barry?"
"Well…yeah." Barry nodded, apparently pleased with being understood. "That's the general idea."
"It ain't working, then, you asshole," growled Michael. "I'm not afraid of you or your little toy. I bet it isn't even loaded."
Everybody else looked anxious, though, both among the Eagles and the Bears.
"I think he got it, Barry," said Enzo. "He's trying to seem cocksure, but next time he'll think twice before coming into this block. Just let them go."
"First he'll say he's sorry," said Barry, not taking his eyes off Michael. His hand did not move an inch.
"No," said Michael. "First you'll put that damn thing down."
Barry gave a lopsided grin. "Oh really? And who'll make me do that? You?"
Michael leaped forward and threw himself at Barry with the strength and agility of a young puma. Though Barry was much heavier, the impact sent him straight down to the crumbling sidewalk. Michael's hands tightened around his throat.
"Let go, you idiot," Barry hissed as his face was turning steadily purple. "Let go, I'm putting it down, I'm putting…"
Michael removed one hand from Barry's throat and made a sweep at the gun. There was a scuffle, a blur of arms and legs and fists, and then the short, terrible sound of a gunshot pierced the air. For a moment it was not clear what happened. Then Barry pushed Michael off him and got up. Michael rolled down to the ground and lay still. A trickle of blood ran down from the corner of his mouth.
Everybody froze in horror. Barry stood there and looked down. "I didn't mean to do it," he said calmly, but Ben could see his hands were trembling. He let the gun fall down to the sidewalk. "It was an accident."
Then the moment of spellbinding shock was over, and the Eagles roared in pain and outrage. Mac and Andy ran to Michael, while Ben, Ron, Jimmy, and Tom ran forward to throw themselves at Barry. They were stopped by a living barrier made of at least two dozen Fat Bears.
"Come here, you coward!" yelled Ron, mad with rage and grief, straining to get to Barry. "You wouldn't face Michael without thirty other people and a gun, huh?"
"You killed him," said Ben, looking into Barry's eyes. He stopped his attempts to get at the leader of the Fat Bears. It was no good. There were too many people between them and Barry.
"Michael was a fool," said Barry, regaining composure. "Whatever happened here, it was his fault to begin with. And you, kid…" He pointed a finger at Ben. "Remember what I told you and your friends years ago? I warned you to think carefully about which side you choose. Y
ou didn't listen. You chose to stick with that loser, Michael Fox. Just like…" Barry stopped and shook his head. "Never mind. From now on, things will be different in this city. Pacts or not, everyone will respect Barry."
Surrounded by his pack, Barry turned away.
"No," Ben called after him, finally finding his voice. Rage coursed through his body, making the blood pound in his temples.
Barry glanced over his shoulder, looking mildly curious. "What do you mean, no?"
"Nobody will respect you. At most, people will fear you. But it won't last forever, Barry. One day, you will pay for what you did."
Barry gave him a mocking smile, but Ben could see that his words penetrated some inner shell of selfishness and arrogance. "You ain't frightening me, kid."
"I didn't intend to. I don't need to do a thing. You'll bring your own end upon yourself."
Barry shook his head. "I have no time for this shit. Don't do anything stupid, eh? Stay in your district and we're good. Step out of line, and more of you might just end up the same way as Fox."
And, jammed tightly between his cronies, he walked away.
Ben joined Andy and Mac, who were still bent above Michael. Mac's face was filled with anguish, Andy's contorted with suppressed tears.
"He's still alive," Mac said. Ben did not miss the still. "I crossed the Boundary thirteen years ago." His soft voice began to tremble. "I've seen all sorts of things. I've seen people die. But not like this. Not at the hands of each other."
Michael's eyelids fluttered and he opened his eyes. "Ben," he said in a hoarse whisper. Though Ben was not sure he heard correctly, he came closer and went down on his knees.
"I'm here, Michael."
"You were right." Michael coughed. Each word seemed to be costing him an enormous effort. "Barry…he isn't worth…any of this. This has gone too far. We should have looked…for a new place…for us."
"Quiet, Michael," whispered Andy. "Save your strength. We'll figure out a way to get you home."
Michael closed his eyes and managed a weak, sad smile. "Home. We need a new home." He opened his eyes again and looked at Ben. "You take care of them. Of Jen and Marleen, and everybody else."
"Me?" Ben did not understand. "Why me?"
"I'm…counting…on you."
Those were his last words. His eyes rolled in his head as he shivered for the last time, and was still.
Ben could hardly remember the way back to camp. They broke into a fabric shop nearby, took a roll of canvas, and created a makeshift stretcher on which they placed Michael's body. As they approached the warehouse, Ben recalled the first day they entered the city, five years ago. They were a little apprehensive, sure, but there was also a great feeling of security in becoming part of an established group. That security was now gone forever.
"Wait," Mac said, stopping in his tracks. "Stay outside for a bit, alright? I'll go in and tell Jen."
"Don't you want us to go in with you, Mac?" asked Andy Steel.
"No. Give me a couple of minutes. I know she won't want too many people to see her at once."
This was the worst part of all. Mac went inside alone, so Benjamin did not see Jen's face when she received the news, but he heard her cry, a high, piercing, desperate cry full of grief and sorrow. It chilled his blood. He braced himself for the moment when he would have to face her.
She walked out of the building a few minutes later, supported by Mac on one side and Edeline on the other. Lauren overtook them, ran straight into Ron's arms and broke into sobs.
Jen swayed as she moved forward, like a sleepwalker caught up in some sort of terrible dream. When she approached the stretcher, she fell to her knees as if all strength left her at once. She ran her trembling hands over Michael's face, his body, his closed eyes, his cold hands.
"He and Barry could never stand each other," she whispered. "Not since I left Barry's camp and got together with Michael."
Ben had averted his eyes out of respect for her grief, but now he could not help but give her a startled look.
"You know it wasn't about that anymore, Jen," said Mac. "Not for a long time now. Barry won't tolerate people who stand up to him. This is his way."
Jen's shoulders were shaking. "Marleen," she said in a choked voice. "How…how am I going to explain to her…?"
"Shh," Edeline said, her tone soothing. She knelt and took Jen into her arms. "You don't have to do anything yet. Gabby has Marleen. She's taking care of her."
The camp was quiet that evening. Nobody felt like talking. Elisa found last night's cold leftovers and arranged them on a tray, together with some dried fruit and nuts, for those who had appetite enough to eat. Mostly people just picked listlessly through their food. At nightfall, Ron, Will, and David went outside to keep first watch while everyone else slid into bed.
Benjamin remained sitting by the fire in the common room with Tom, Mac and Andy. For a while they sat silently, staring into the flames. From behind one of the partitions, Ben could hear Jen's stifled cries and the soothing murmur of Elisa's voice.
"This can't be the end," Mac said, his expression somber.
"You bet it isn't," Andy said. "Barry will pay. I will personally make sure of that. By the time I'm through with him, he will regret being born."
"That isn't what I meant. Until now, we had a red line nobody crossed. We were all in the same boat. All outcasts, all sent here to shift for ourselves or die. We might have had our differences, but it was understood that on some basic level, we are all supposed to help each other in order to survive. Now, sure, Barry challenged this rule a long time ago. But he wasn't… I thought he was pesky, annoying, full of himself, but never a murderer. Now that we've started killing each other, I'm afraid to think of what happens next."
At daybreak, they carried Michael's body to the outskirts of the city. The men and boys all took turns carrying the stretcher. Mac and Andy carried spades over their shoulders, and once they found a spot by the river where the ground was soft, they started digging the grave.
Gabby and Shauna stayed behind with the children, but the rest of the camp was there. Michael's body was lowered gently into the grave, and for a moment they all stood silently around it, their heads bowed. Then Mac lowered himself down upon his knees and picked up a handful of moist black earth. "It's time," he said softly as he rose to his feet and let the soil slide between his fingers and into the grave. The rest followed his example while Jen stood there, silently crying, her head on Elisa's shoulder. Soon there was a mound of earth at the gravesite, and the smell of mulch and fallen leaves lingered in the air.
Mac cleared his throat. "If you don't mind, Jen, I'd like to say a few words. Michael was the first friend I made after being alone for a very long time, and…"
He was stopped by the sound of approaching footsteps. He looked over his shoulder as did everyone else. Someone was coming. In a minute, the intruder stopped right there in front of them.
"Enzo." Mac's voice was as cold as the friend he just buried. "What the hell are you doing here? What do you want?"
"The ugly slimeball wants to get himself pounded raw, that's what," growled Andy, his face reddening with fury. "And I'm about to grant his wish."
"Andy, wait!" Elisa called out, while Tom and Will grabbed Andy's arms. Enzo seemed more discouraged than frightened by this display of hostility. He stood rooted to the spot, hands in pockets, unable to speak. He looked everywhere but at the fresh mound of earth that now covered Michael's dead body.
Ben broke the silence. "So, what other message does Barry have for us? Does he think this isn't enough?" He gestured toward the freshly dug grave.
"I…" Enzo struggled to find the right words. "I didn't come here because of Barry. I'm… I'm leaving Barry's camp."
Enzo had everyone's attention, but no one spoke. He swallowed hard, shook his head, and went on. "You have to understand. I was just a scared kid when I first came here, one of the few who survived in our group. Barry picked me up, gave me a safe place to be, sho
wed me what I needed to do in order to make it. 'Stick with me and you don't need to worry about a thing,' he said. 'Be loyal to me and you won't regret it.' And I haven't… until yesterday."
"So what are you going to do?" asked Elisa. "Join another group? I don't imagine Barry's going to like that very much."
"Never mind what he's going to do," barked Ben. "I'm a tad more concerned about our future, if you know what I mean."
Mac nodded. "I do know. If you have something to say, I'm ready to listen. I think we all are. Michael asked you to take care of the camp, didn't he? So tell us what you think we should do."
Ben took a deep breath. "I think it's time for us to leave this city. There's nothing left for us here. Tom, Elisa, and I talked this through last night. We're planning to leave and we hope everybody will come with us."
Andy was furious. "You're running away! You're afraid of Barry, so you'll leave with your tail between your legs."
Mac raised an arm, silencing him. "Go on, Ben. What do you have in mind?"
"We'll find ourselves a farmhouse by the river and fix it up. It will be easier to look for food this way, and we'll be able to grow things, too. Sure, we'll raid cities and towns in the area to get what we need, but first of all we need a home of our own, a place well away from here, away from Barry and his..." He shook his head and sighed.
Elisa's eyes glowed as Ben spoke. "It will be much better for all of us," she said, looking at each member of the camp in turn. To her surprise, some averted their eyes and shuffled their feet, as if they were not so sure about the idea.
"Well, Gabby and I will be coming with you," Mac said. "We've talked about this too. We would have left earlier, only we didn't want to be on our own."
A wave of relief swept over Ben. Mac's vote of support made him feel a lot more confident.
"We have our children to think about. Every time Darren and Jill go out, I'm afraid some building might crumble over their heads. I'd like the kids to grow up in the open, not in these ruins."