by Hannah Ross
"Dad wanted to come with us," Darren said, unsaddling the horses. "But there's just too much work around the camp right now."
"I can imagine," Ben said. "We ought to make it to the camp one of these days. I haven't seen Mac in ages."
"And there's this," Darren said after some hesitation, pulling a crumpled newspaper out of his saddle-bag and holding it out to Ben.
"What's that?" Ben frowned, taking the newspaper and unfolding it. It was a few days old.
"Uncle Tom brought it to us from Resurrection Town. Look on, it's in the middle."
Ben flipped a few pages. The article in the middle was quite extensive, and done in narrow columns of small print. The title read, Official Government Decree: Unregistered Cross-Boundary Residents Will Be Required to Declare Themselves.
"The revolutionary White Tower decision, promoted by the young and promising governor Ned Thornton," Priscilla read aloud, "will put an end to the dubious position of the orphans who until now fell under the Decree of Population Control, more commonly known as the Wild Children or the Freeborn. 'It is really quite ridiculous,' Thornton said, 'that we have ignored a whole community of people who can be of potential use to the upcoming cross-Boundary expansion movement. I'm not talking of automatically giving the Unregistered a Class A citizenship, but a certain legal protection is absolutely feasible and necessary… in return for some productive work, of course.' Governor Thornton tells us that means will be found to bring the new policy to the knowledge of the Wild Children, and to begin its practical implementation in the nearest future."
"Legal protection in return for work?" Ben repeated with an expression of incredulity and distaste. "Just who does this pompous asshole think he is?"
Jill nodded. "That's more or less what Dad said. He thinks it won't take them too long to arrive and begin registering us."
Priscilla bit her lip. "I was afraid something like this might happen. And then what?"
"I wish we knew. Dad rather thinks this isn't a positive development."
Ben was inclined to agree. Knowing the workings of the White Tower, he didn't expect any fair or benevolent treatment. "They'll have a rough time registering all the Freeborn. There might be some records about me and others who grew up in orphanages, but there’s no legal trace of people like you and your siblings, who were born out here."
"That's why Dad hopes it might be easier for us to hide."
"Hide?" Priscilla repeated. "Surely it won't come to that?"
Her husband, Darren and Jill, however, exchanged uncertain, dark glances, and nobody answered.
"I don't know," Jill finally said. "Perhaps you guys had better ride over to the camp so that you can talk it over with Mom and Dad."
* * *
"So what do you make out of all this?" Ben asked two days later as he, Priscilla and Ian sat down at the long, sturdy, heavily notched wooden table of the Eagles' camp. This table, made by Mac, had seen over a decade of use, and was ready to weather many years more. Ian, restrained by his mother, attempted to climb up.
"Let him, Prissy," said Gabby. "I'll watch him."
"What do I make of it?" Mac echoed after a deep drink from his tankard of home-brewed beer. "Nothing much, for now, but my gut feeling tells me it's all wrong. Until now, the White Tower pretended we don't exist, and we've adjusted and got along fine. Why do they plan to register us all of a sudden? What do they want?"
"My folks had a government inspection too," Ben told. "Someone came and asked them all sorts of questions about the farm. How long they have lived there, what they've done on the place, how many acres they were using. Then they got this certificate. What did it say, Pris?"
"That they hereby become legal owners of this property by right of conscientious occupation," Priscilla quoted.
"Is that so bad?" Edeline asked. She had her hands full with a baby on her knee and a bowl of mashed up food in front of her. "This means nobody can come and, say, drive your parents away from the farm. Or let out sheep or cattle on their land, or anything of the sort."
"Yes," Andy said, "But it also means that the White Tower now thinks it gets to decide who owns what, and I can't say that sits too well with me."
"We've heard all sorts of disturbing tales through the Ravens," Mac said. "One camp was registered, and then the government people told them they must relocate, supposedly for safety reasons, because their inspectors discovered high pollution levels, or whatnot, in the area. Nobody has heard from them since."
"And they came for Enzo while he was in Resurrection Town," Tom said. "Asked him to show his papers, and when it turned out he didn't have any, they started asking all sorts of questions. Enzo gave them the slip, but he says he's going to lie low for a while."
"That's easy enough for Enzo and Jen," Ben observed, "they live way out in the woods, all by themselves. But what about big camps like this one? You can't all just scatter."
"No," Mac agreed, "but I'd suggest those who can, better make themselves scarce. Some people have gone to join the Ravens, who always keep on the move. The Ravens can only accept so many, though."
"There's Thunder Cloud," Ben said.
Thunder Cloud, in whose veins flowed the blood of Cherokee and other Native American tribes, was obsessed with reconstructing and preserving the traditions of his ancestors. He gathered a large nomadic camp, the members of which either were Native Americans by heritage or committed to live as such. Ben's friendship with Thunder Cloud began some years previously, when they unexpectedly found themselves following the same herd of buffalo and teamed up for the hunt.
"Yes, that friend of yours. His camp's pretty far from here, isn't it?"
"Three or four days’ ride on horseback."
"Then Darren and Jill could take their horses and go there. Could you guide them, Ben?"
"Mac!" Gabby protested with a startled look. "You can't just send the children off heaven knows where!"
"They're adults, Gabby. You already had two children of your own when you were Jill's age, remember? They'll be fine. In fact," Mac dropped his voice, "they might be safer there than we'll be staying here. Don't worry, the younger ones will remain here with us, and we'll see what to do when push comes to shove."
"Well, I think it's a brilliant idea," said Darren, who, along with Ben, hunted with Thunder Cloud the year before and stood rather in awe of him. Jill nodded.
"When can you take them, Ben?" pressed Mac.
"Tomorrow morning if you ride back with us and get ready to set out. We need to get home and take care of the animals first."
That night Ben and Priscilla lay awake for a long time, listening to Ian's sleepy breathing. "So what do you reckon they want?" Ben asked his wife again.
"Two things, as much as I could gather from that article and from hints Ned Thornton let drop. Land and labor. Land for expansion and labor to make this expansion profitable."
"Free manpower, out here in the wild, ripe for the taking. People who have no rights and no legal status to protect them."
"Yes, Ben, I'm afraid so."
For a few moments they remained silent, each knowing what the other was thinking. Their position was better than that of most others. Priscilla's connections would easily keep them safe so there was no need for them to succumb to the government plans, whatever they were, nor go into hiding. But neither of them was willing to make use of this advantage.
"I think we should leave for a while too," Ben said. "Go with Darren and Jill to Thunder Cloud, and maybe stay there for some time."
"What about the cabin? Our animals, our garden?"
"My folks can come a couple of times a week and look after the homestead for a while. They're Legals and should have no trouble."
In the darkness Priscilla nodded, though Ben couldn't see her.
* * *
"We can take in your poultry for the time being," Daniel said, "We'll take the cow, too, if someone from the camp comes to take the milk. And we can take care of your garden every few days to until you r
eturn."
"When things clear up," added Rebecca. "You've read this morning's paper, right?"
"No," said Ben, Priscilla and Darren all at once.
"What do you mean, Aunt Becky?" Jill asked. The children of the Eagles' Camp grew up to regard Daniel and Rebecca as relations, as a sort of common grandparents, and Jill, who was a special favorite, stayed over at the farm several times.
"Here," Daniel said, taking out the newspaper and unfolding it with a flourish. "Take a look."
Four heads bent over the page.
"Decree of Overall Population Registry Comes into Effect," Ben read aloud. "In a radical change from the old policy of discounting Illegals living beyond the Boundary, White Tower spokesman, Governor Ned Thornton, has declared that every man, woman and child living in the Wild Lands will be accounted for. 'These people deserve status and support,' Thornton said, 'and our present more stable and affluent state allows us to take care of them. Registration with the Population Bureau will be compulsory for everyone, and a special new status of External will be granted to all the newly registered.
"As for the concern that the former Illegals will be a drain on the government and the taxpayers, it is absolutely unfounded. With the new government expansion program, there will be constant need for working hands, and the Externals will be readily absorbed in the Land Reclamation project. It will be a win-win situation all around, one that promotes the well-being of all."
There was a long silence. Ben pushed the paper aside with an expression of disgust. "It's just as we thought. Those bastards want us accounted for because they want a free labor force."
Darren and Jill exchanged a worried glance. "Does this mean that we'll have to hide from the Decree forever?"
"Of course not. This decree is insane. It won't work. We'll just have to wait and watch... and see."
"See what?" Rebecca asked. "Do you think people will stand up against this policy?"
"I don't know, Mom, but things change. People aren't required to get special permits to have children anymore. Twelve-year-old kids don't get sent out into the wilderness. I'd say it's an improvement. This forced registry won't last. It will fall apart. Or people will bring it down."
* * *
They turned the horses in the direction of their beloved little cabin, to pack a few necessities for the journey, do some last jobs around the place, and tidy up.
On the night before they set out, Darren and Jill settled to sleep downstairs, near Ian's cot. Ben and Priscilla lay holding each other in their comfortable bed in the loft, keenly aware that this was to be their last night at home. Neither of them felt particularly sleepy.
"You don't think it might be better for us to just go ahead and register, do you, Ben?" Priscilla asked.
"Do you? The White Tower wrote me off as no good and kicked me out here. I've been doing just fine without them these past seventeen years. They'll need to push a gun against my head to get me to cooperate with them."
In the darkness, Priscilla squeezed her husband's hand. She understood this sentiment only too well. It was the same one that had made her run away from home all those years ago to try and sabotage her father's election campaign.
In the morning they had breakfast, swept the cabin and the front porch, and turned their horses in the direction of Thunder Cloud's camp.
* * *
It took the little party four days of riding southwest to reach the southern end of the Blue Ridge Mountains where Thunder Cloud's camp roamed during the summer. They moved at a good pace. Little Ian became quite adept at falling asleep in the saddle, lulled to drowsiness by the rhythmic movement of the horse. Nevertheless, it was a tiring journey and late on the third day, Ben was quite glad to come upon what was unmistakably a campsite left not more than a day or two ago. There were cooking fires piled up with ashes, bits of broken bone, and a torn moccasin that looked as though an ill-trained dog chewed upon it. A trail of hooves led clearly to the north.
"We'll find Thunder Cloud tomorrow, I'll bet ten to one," Ben said. "Let's go to bed early tonight so we can make a good start."
His suggestion met no resistance, as everyone was weary and looked forward to reaching the end of their journey.
That night, Priscilla repacked her saddle-bag for more convenience. She pulled out a turned-off mobile phone and showed it to Ben with a smile. "I don't even know why I still bother with this, unless it's for the time once in a blue moon that I go to Resurrection Town. But there won't be a signal anywhere near here. I might as well have left it at home."
Ben smiled as they settled into their sleeping bags. "Yes, well, we'll be pretty detached from everything with Thunder Cloud. I hope you'll be alright."
"Why wouldn't I be?"
"Those people are pretty hardcore. You've met Thunder Cloud, but you've never stayed in his camp. They don't work the land like the Eagles do. They keep moving around."
"Like the Ravens?"
"No, not exactly. The Ravens have their huge herds of sheep, and they are always after fresh grazing land. Thunder Cloud's people don't keep sheep or cattle, so they're able to move much quicker and more often, following the herds of buffalo and deer, and gathering what little thing comes their way around the Plains. It's a rigorous life."
"I'm sure it will be very interesting."
Ben gave a quiet laugh. "Of that, I have no doubt."
* * *
They came within view of Thunder Cloud's camp next day around noon. It was nestled in a snug little valley, now dotted with teepees made of tanned hides – brown and dun and yellow. Smoke rose from some of the smoke-holes in bluish tendrils. A large herd of horses was grazing around the camp, their black and chestnut and grey coats glossy in the sun. They were guarded by a man on horseback, who kept an eye on them so they wouldn't scatter.
Priscilla let out a gasp of admiration. "All those horses!" she said. "There must be fifty... maybe sixty."
"Enough to transfer the whole camp, people and supplies, to a fresh spot on horseback. Of course, some would have to ride double."
Darren let out an appreciative whistle, which in the quiet stillness of the day, was heard by the outrider below. The man turned to look at the newcomers and Ben waved, eager to make it clear that they are friends. The man raised his arm in a return salute and rode forward to meet them.
At a distance Ben thought this might be Thunder Cloud himself, but as the rider approached he realized he was mistaken. Though somewhat resembling Thunder Cloud, the man was of a slighter build, more nimble, and some years younger. Ben grinned when he saw it was Thunder Cloud's nephew.
Midnight Fox likewise recognized Ben. "This is a pleasant surprise! My uncle will be happy to see you, as always. I see you've brought some friends with you this time." His curious eyes swept over the others, lingering on Jill.
"So where is Thunder Cloud?" Ben asked.
"Out riding. He's breaking in a new horse. Wait a minute, I'll try to call him." Midnight Fox emitted a loud, sharp whistle that reverberated around the valley. Several people – men, women and children of all ages – came out of the teepees or stopped whatever they were doing to come and look at the visitors.
Finally, Thunder Cloud himself appeared, astride a well-lathered, heavily breathing stallion. His face, triumphant and shiny with sweat, broke into a smile when he saw the newcomers. "Ben, how good to see you! Welcome, Priscilla. I see you've brought your little one with you. Welcome, Darren. This is your sister, I assume?"
"Yes. My name is Jill."
Soon the guests, along with Thunder Cloud and Midnight Fox, were settled in Thunder Cloud's teepee, where his wife brought out refreshments in the form of dried meat and berries, and wooden cups of some kind of fermented drink Priscilla sniffed suspiciously before tasting.
Jill looked at the two men who, in their clothes made of hides, and with their long, straight, raven-black hair braided and adorned with feathers, greatly resembled the archetypal images of the Plains Indians as depicted in literature and fil
ms of centuries ago.
"So, er, what, um… tribe do you belong to?" she asked, hoping she isn't committing a gross blunder. Thunder Cloud smiled, a little sadly.
"Alas, we no longer have the privilege of perfect distinction between tribes. There are too few of us left. The War wiped out many of the First Nations, and when the laws came to proclaim who can have children and how many, our people often fell to the wayside during the years of that policy, being poor and disfavored by the Reproduction Decrees. Bit by bit, some of us began leaving the Boundary in a trickle, looking for places where pollution had caused least damage to the landscape and game. Much of the tradition was lost, however, and we couldn't afford to split into tribes. There were some Lakota among us, some Cheyenne, some Arapaho... but most importantly, we were all children of this land, having lived in communion with Her for thousands of years before your ancestors came and, ultimately, destroyed Her. So we, and other camps like ours, banded together into what we now call One Nation, attempting to tread gently and carefully upon this land and live as our ancestors had. Some moved to the Great Plains. We chose to stay in our ancestral lands here in the mountains. For the most part, we all stayed out of the ruined cities. We tamed horses and learned anew to build camps, make tools, hunt, tan hides and make clothes, as our people have done for eons."
"I think our father told us about it once," Darren said. "He visited you once or twice."
"That's Mac," Ben said. "You remember him, Thunder Cloud. We came together the year before last."
"Ah, yes. And so you, Jill, are another one of Mac's children? Be welcome to our camp. I hope you will all stay with us a while."
"We were hoping you'd say that. There's some trouble creeping over the country now. I'm not sure if you've heard."
But Thunder Cloud was better informed than they thought. "Yes." He nodded. "Sinister things are on the rise. I suspected it would come to this one day."