The Wild Children Trilogy Box Set
Page 16
"And you think they can be tamed?" Ben asked as he eyed the frightened animals.
"Of course. Goats are domesticated animals. They were bred to live with humans."
The goats did not seem aware of this. For the next few days, every time somebody approached the pen to give them food, they would start running around in panic, making fearful screams that sounded surprisingly human. Elisa did not despair, though. She asked Mac to build a stronger, more reliable pen closer to the farm, and the goats were transferred there. Then Elisa declared nobody was allowed near the goats. Every day, she brought their feed herself and stayed with them in the pen for hours. She sat on a battered old stool reading a book while she waited for the goats to approach and eat out of the bucket she placed by her feet. The animals resisted at first, but soon hunger took its toll and they got used to Elisa's presence. Slowly, warily, they inched closer and began to eat. A few days later, she was able to bribe them with treats like succulent fresh plants, apple peels and cores, and any leftovers from the vegetable garden. Before long, the goats were eating out of her hand.
A week later, Elisa had an opportunity to add to her stock of domestic animals. One morning, just as she was going out to tend to the goats, Tom came from the direction of the woods. He was carrying a bulging sack in his arms.
"Hi there," she said. "Where have you been so bright and early?"
"I tried going after wild turkeys. Found a nice, big one, too. Missed, of course."
Elisa nodded as the corner of her mouth twitched. "Of course."
"Hey, no need to get all snotty. Especially as I brought you a present."
Elisa's eyebrows traveled a notch upward. "A present?"
Tom gave the sack a slight shake and frantic peeping sounded from within.
Elisa's eyes opened wide. "What on earth…"
"I scared off the mother. The brood of chicks remained behind, and I was able to collect them all."
There were seven wild turkey chicks in the sack. Elisa was enchanted with the small balls of fluff that were just beginning to grow their first feathers. With the help of some would-be carpenters she constructed a coop and moved the chicks in. She recruited Lauren to help with their care and to help the girl keep busy and avoid the gloomy thoughts that plagued her ever since they moved out of the city. She missed Ron, who insisted staying at the old camp was dangerous, and that she should go with the others while he remained behind.
"I told him I can stay if Edeline's staying, and with two kids, too," she told Elisa one morning as the two of them were feeding the chicks, "but he said he won't have me put myself in danger. I told him that if it's so, I don't want him to stay anyplace dangerous, but he said he can't leave Andy on his own. He told me he can take care of himself, and not to worry, and that he'll work on trying to get Andy and the others to join us here."
"Ron will be fine," Elisa said, putting an arm around Lauren's shoulders. "He's tougher than he looks, and he's more careful than Andy. He won't go and do anything stupid. I'm sure we'll see him here soon."
The following night was especially chilly. A couple of hours before dawn, Benjamin got up, shivering, to stock the dying fire. To his surprise, he saw Jen huddled in front of the glowing embers, her head bent low.
She woke with a start when he knelt beside her on one knee and said her name.
"Oh, hey," she said, rubbing her eyes. "Is it morning already?"
"Everyone's still asleep. Why are you sitting here all alone?"
"Marleen woke me in the middle of the night. I put her back to bed and thought I'd just sit in front of the fire for a minute or two. I must have nodded off."
Ben took a few logs from the woodpile and added them to the flames, then pulled out a stool and sat next to her. "Are you alright?"
"Yes," Jen said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, before she sighed. "Not really."
Ben waited as the wood crackled in the fire. Flickering shadows danced upon the walls and upon Jen's face. In the dim red glow, her blue eyes seemed dark.
"I've just been thinking about…about Michael. You remember how he was, right? Always cheerful, confident. We're the best camp, he used to say. We've got the best people, everything's going to be just right. But I think Michael…well, in a way, perhaps he missed the big picture. You see, there's the matter of day-to-day survival, of making do with what we have, and that's tough work and there's no getting around it. But there's also something else. We've been thrown outside the Boundary. We're never getting back in. And out here, we're building a new world. This world is bigger, has to be bigger than just our camp, or even several camps."
Ben nodded. "Go on."
"Barry completely missed this, of course. But in a way, I believe, so did Michael. Otherwise, he would have left a long time ago, to build new places and find new people. He should have realized…" She sighed, shaking her head.
"I think he did, in the end."
Jen turned to face him, her eyes full of tears. "Perhaps," she said, as the tears finally spilled over and slid down her cheeks. "But by then, it was too late."
By the time morning set in, it was clear the day would be too rainy to go out at all. The Grey Eagles long ago grew inured to most weather conditions. A chilly, frosty, or windy morning would not have kept them indoors, but even the biggest enthusiasts of hunting and yard work could not justify going out when a dense grey curtain of rain soaked the surroundings.
Elisa wrapped herself up in a yellow raincoat and made it across the yard to feed the animals and make sure they had proper shelter. Minutes later, she returned drenched and dripping from the knees down, and disappeared behind a folding screen to change her soaked jeans. She re-emerged wearing a dry pair of old sweatpants, hung her jeans to dry in front of the fire, picked up a jar of dried herbs from one of the shelves, and went to make a cup of tea.
On such days people had to come up with things to fill their time and amuse themselves. Some settled down to a game of chess or checkers, some read books, and some just sat comfortably chatting in the warm kitchen.
Gabby started lunch, and Shauna took out some mending. The most difficult part was keeping the children occupied. They were used to running in and out and playing outside for most of the day, and were apt to become frustrated when forced to stay indoors. Elisa took it upon herself to play with the littlest ones, while Mac told Darren and Jill to sit down and prepare to learn their letters.
Ben took advantage of the quiet spell to look at his maps again. They were gradually becoming tattered from handling and some of the corners were dog-eared. I think I can pinpoint our exact location now. He traced the serpentine blue line of a river with his finger. I wonder which areas we should explore first once we're properly settled-in here. He lifted his eyes from the map to look around the room. I had my doubts that first day. For a lot of days. But we really can survive out here. More than just survive. We're building real lives for ourselves. But it can't be just us. There must be other areas where groups like us settled. His gaze dropped back to the map as his thoughts refused to acknowledge his loneliness.
"Isn't it lucky I did all the children's washing yesterday?" Gabby said to no one in particular as she stirred the soup. "After such a rain, the river will be muddy for days."
Elisa lifted her head from the pile of wooden blocks Mac carved and sanded for the children's amusement. "Did you hear that?"
"What?" Ben tore his eyes from the map and stared into space, listening intently. He heard nothing but the howling wind and the pounding rain. The windows shook in their frame.
"Voices," said Elisa. "Outside."
"Must be the goats," said Tom, nibbling on a bit of last year's dried apple.
The three of them strained to listen as Mac's stern voice drifted from a corner. "Try harder now, Darren. I know you can do it. Sound it out. H-O-U-S-E."
"You're right," Ben said. "Someone's opening the gate and coming up the garden path.
Seconds later, someone pounded on the front door, startli
ng everyone.
Lauren sprang to her feet, her face pale. The book she was leafing through dropped from her lap. "Ron," she whispered.
Benjamin did not think it was very likely, though. Andy, Ron and the others were too experienced to undertake a journey in such weather. If the rain caught them mid-trek, they would find refuge somewhere.
Someone outside was shouting what sounded like a plea for help. Elisa darted around everyone and pulled open the door to find two, soaked, desperate-looking figures. Without much thought, she ushered them in and closed the door behind them as everyone stopped whatever they were doing and gathered around to have a look.
The unexpected visitors were two children – a boy in mud-spattered glasses and a round-faced, rather plump girl. Water dripped from their raincoats and puddled around their rubber boots. They carried large, brand-new backpacks, the same kind every twelve-year-old in the orphanage got when sent across the Boundary.
"Thank you," said the girl in a small voice. "Oh, thank you."
A bustle surrounded the newcomers with everyone helping them shrug off their wet raincoats, boots and backpacks, offering a change of clothes, a place by the fire, and a cup of hot tea.
Once the two children stopped shivering and were made comfortable, Ben asked, "You're new, aren't you?"
"Yes," said the boy. "We've only been out a few days, and today we didn't think we'd last till the end of the week."
"It's lucky we spotted your chimney smoke coming up," added the girl. "We could hardly believe our eyes, but we knew it couldn't be a prairie fire, not in this weather. I'm Holly, by the way, and this is Frankie."
"Frank," said the boy, shaking hands with Ben, Tom and Jimmy.
"You weren't sent out alone, were you?" asked Elisa. "They never do that. There's always a group."
Frank and Holly exchanged dark stares. "There was a group," Holly said. "But some kids made it clear from the start that we'd be going our own way."
"What do you mean, going your own way?" Elisa asked, frowning.
Frank shrugged. "Well, we were never exactly popular. There was this kid, Alec, who for some reason made me go through living hell from about the time we were in kindergarten. When we were sent out, he said he didn't want to see me anymore, and that if I didn't leave he'd pound me raw. So I had no choice."
"I decided to stick with Frankie," Holly said. "He's the only one who's never made fun of me."
"They just drove you out like this, alone?" Lauren looked furious.
"At first we hoped they were only joking," said Frank. "But after two days we realized they meant it. We have no idea where they went."
Ben and Elisa exchanged a meaningful glance. "Whatever they do," said Ben, "I hope they aren't trying to cross this river right now. It gets deep during the rains, and the current is pretty strong."
"Hey," Elisa said with a hopeful smile. "Is Mrs. Stocking still the matron at the orphanage?"
"Oh, yes," Holly said, nodding. "She was about the only person that made it possible to put up with school. But the night before we left, she hugged each one of us in turn and cried, and said that she can't do it anymore, that she ought to retire. I told her she should stay…for the younger kids, you know. She gave me this letter…" Holly pulled an envelope out of her bag and extracted a sheet of paper from it. Ben recognized the familiar, rounded writing, which now looked as if it belonged to a very unsteady hand. Dear Holly, you have no idea how hard it is to say goodbye to you, and if I only could, I wish…
Holly stuffed the letter back in the envelope and sighed. "I wish we could have Mrs. Stocking here with us. She's been really kind to us and she bought us this, and told us to keep it out of Madam Hart's sight."
She reached deep into her backpack and produced a stash of chocolates and sweets in colorful wraps. She looked at it a little wistfully. "These are probably the last chocolates we're ever going to taste, right?"
"Probably, yes," said Ben. "We haven't had any chocolate in years." The pile of sweets put him in mind of a different world. A world where food was routinely available, served on small plastic trays in the school dining room. Frank pulled out his share of sweets too.
"Would you like some?" he asked with a timid smile.
Gabby returned the smile. "I'm sure Darren and Jill would like to taste some. They've never had chocolate."
"All the better for them," Mac said, watching the children gazing with wide-open eyes at the sweets covered with rustling, shiny, colorful wrappers.
"There you go," said Holly, unwrapping a small chocolate bar and handing it to Jill. The little girl took a tentative bite and her face split in a wide grin.
"This is the yummiest thing in the world!" she said and took another bite.
Little by little, everyone in the room approached and helped themselves to some of the sweets, and in a surprisingly short time there was nothing left on the table but a small pile of empty wrappers.
"So…" said Frank, twirling his cup in his hands, "…where do you think we should go? After the rain stops, I mean."
"Go?" Ben raised his eyebrows. "Where would you go? You should stay here, of course."
The children looked at each other, then at him, then at everybody else in the room.
Holly looked uncertain. "Do you mean to say that you want us to stay with you? In your…your house?"
"We have no other," Gabby said, grinning as she poured out more tea. "Why do you sound so surprised? Perhaps you have other plans?"
Frank stared at her for a few seconds before answering. "No. It's just…It's just that nobody else ever asked us to join them before. For anything. In school…"
"This isn't school," a voice said from one of the corners. Everybody turned to look.
Ben was surprised to realize it was Enzo. He appeared to be blushing, though it was hard to tell because of his dark tan.
Enzo stood and walked toward the newcomers. "This is the real world. We don't do the stupid little games we played when we were twelve years old. Who's stronger, who's more popular, who gets to make people do what he says. No. We work together and we make a life for ourselves. Or we fight, split up…and die."
12
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Professor Keller reminded Rebecca of an old black-and-white photograph of Albert Einstein that adorned one of the corridors in her high school a lifetime ago. True, he was better groomed. With his silvery-white hair neatly parted and sleekly brushed to the sides, his crisply pressed suit and shirt, and conservative dark tie, he looked impeccable, but his eyes, the intelligent dark eyes with the expression of youthful curiosity, were just the same.
He was old, thin, and wispy, but his handshake was surprisingly vigorous, and Rebecca still felt the warmth of his fingers when she sat down across from him. They were separated by a rickety desk that looked as ancient as Keller himself.
He picked up a battered-looking phone and said to his secretary, "Two coffees, if you please, Thelma."
"Oh, no, thank you," said Rebecca, who was painstakingly trying to cut down on coffee. "I would really rather…"
Professor Keller waved a dismissive hand and put the receiver down. "Nonsense. Nobody can resist Thelma's special brew, or her secret-twist biscuits. He lowered his voice in a conspiratorial manner. "Just between us, her typing is awful. Thirty years in the office and no improvement. But she sure can bake." His dark eyes twinkled, and Rebecca offered an uncertain smile as his expression grew serious. "How well did you know Tracy Locke?"
"Not well at all. We only met once, a short while before her death. I had hoped it would be a longer acquaintance. Her death came as a terrible shock."
"To be sure," Keller shook his head. "The poor woman was brilliant, but lacked caution. She told me about her…observations, and I asked her to be very, very careful about where she goes, whom she meets, and what she says, but Tracy wouldn't wait. I know there were certain documents in her possession, and after her death I tried to t
race them, but in vain. No doubt she carried them with her, and her assassin took care to get rid of them all."
The word assassin jolted Rebecca's nerves. She licked her suddenly dry lips. "So you believe…"
"That Tracy was removed by an order of the White Tower? I do not doubt that. In some ways, this country has become more dangerous after the War, Ms. Hurst…Rebecca? May I call you Rebecca?"
The door opened and a plump woman in a suit of purple velvet came in carrying a large tray bearing two cups of coffee and a plate of tiny cream-layered cookies. The coffee was topped with whipped cream. A delicious warm smell of vanilla and cinnamon wafted through the air.
"You should have opened a coffee shop, Thelma," the professor said, taking a cookie. He examined it, smelled it, and nodded his approval.
"I would have, but I've been too busy typing," his secretary said with a wink in Rebecca's direction. Then she spun around, walked out, and closed the door behind her.
"I knew, of course, that there was also Tracy's personal computer," Keller said after sampling a cookie. Following his example, Rebecca took one too. "It was taken from her house by government warrant, as 'evidence'. Naturally, this made no sense, since Tracy's death was unequivocally classified as an accident. Still, I didn't argue. I only claimed I needed access to her computer for a limited time, to copy several files that had to do with my research. Tracy had been my research assistant, I argued, and some of her files were supposed to be sent to me. The permit was grudgingly given, and the computer was delivered right here in the hands of a technician who was supposed to copy the relevant files and transfer them to my computer. I wasn't supposed to lay hands on the evidence at all."
Rebecca didn't miss the sparkle of satisfaction in Professor Keller's eyes. "But..?" she prompted.
"But Thelma very obligingly offered us her special coffee. One careless move, and alas! The poor man had whipped cream all over the front of his shirt. While Thelma was helping him clean up, I quickly made a copy of one folder on Tracy's computer. You see, that's another reason I put up with Thelma. After three decades of working together, she can practically read my mind."