by Hannah Ross
* * *
The sturdy wooden table in the warm and cozy farm kitchen was a haven Priscilla hadn't realized how much she had missed. But when she sat there with Daniel and Rebecca, and Kate and Tony's children, and there were muffins on the table, hot out of the oven, and a big jug of fresh milk with the cream on top, Priscilla suddenly felt as if she had gone straight to heaven. She poured a glass of milk for Ian, skimmed the cream off the top and fed it to him with a teaspoon. Her son, who lost the habit of drinking milk in Thunder Cloud's camp, was still a little suspicious about it, but the cream won him over.
"These are the good things in life," Priscilla said, taking a muffin. "Going to bed and knowing you won't have to pack up your home and leave tomorrow, or in a month, or in a year. I don't understand why people would choose to be nomads."
"Some would argue that lighter homes and fewer possessions are the path to true liberty," Daniel said. "But in any case, some people have recently had to become wanderers because they had no choice, looking over their shoulder at the Registry all the while. I'm glad to hear the folks in Resurrection Town are standing up to this. It's about time."
Rebecca bit her lip as she placed several mugs of tea on the table. "I don't know. Escaping the Registry camps and disappearing into the wild lands is one thing. But Resurrection Town is right here. It can't take off and run away. And if the government forces come..." She shook her head. "It just sounds a little hopeless."
Priscilla couldn't help but agree, but Daniel said, "Don't lose faith so soon, Becky. Sometimes, those who win aren't the strongest ones, but the ones with the least to lose."
"They underestimate us," Priscilla said. "They always have. Ian, get your hands away from that mug or you'll get burned."
"So what will you do now, Prissy?" Rebecca asked. "You could just go home with Ian and wait for Ben to come back. We have your animals here on the farm and drive over about once a week to check on the garden and air the cabin, but I don't like the thought of you there all by yourself. I think you better stay with us for a while."
Priscilla could think of no better idea. "I will, Rebecca, thank you."
That night, she and Ian slept in the little loft bedroom she stayed in a decade ago, when she ran away from home hoping it would stop her father from winning re-election. She remembered that day well. The small low-ceilinged room felt as cozy then as it did now. And soon after, she met Ben for the first time, never imagining the young man with the mussed hair and the hole in his sleeve would one day be her husband.
* * *
A few peaceful days passed on the farm, with little action and little news. Priscilla could have enjoyed this time if it weren't for the uncertainty of Ben's fate and the feeling that this was just the silence before the great storm.
On the third morning after her arrival, they heard the sound of cantering horses as they sat down to breakfast. "Either it's a herd of mustangs," Daniel said, "or a whole host of riders coming our way."
Priscilla dropped her fork and rushed to the window, followed by the bewildered stare of Ian, who sat playing with toast crusts in the wooden high chair Daniel made for visiting grandchildren when Kate was expecting her first baby.
It was a company of riders, sure enough. Though there was no uniformity in their clothes or weapons, they looked like a single-minded force. Most of them rode onward in the direction of Resurrection Town, but a few stopped at the end of the gravel path leading to the farmhouse. Daniel walked out to meet them, and the others heard the whole exchange through the open window.
"Greetings," one of the riders said. "Do we understand right that you're friends of the Freeborn?"
"Sure enough," said Daniel. "Are you of that folk?"
"Some of us, yes. Others have citizenships... some are even Class A. But we all have one thing in common. We want to preserve the freedom in the lands beyond the Boundary. We've fought long and hard to make lives for ourselves out here, and we're not about to be deprived of them. We're going to Resurrection Town to meet the government forces."
Daniel drew in a deep breath. "Is it open war, then?"
"So we've heard. Do you have any men in your household who would like to join the fighters?"
Daniel shook his head. "I'd already have joined you if I were two decades younger. My son has been fighting in the Resistance forces for some time now. Is there any other way we can help you?"
The man thought about it. "We could use a lift to Resurrection Town for two of my men waiting out here. They've been riding double, and it's a strain on the horses."
Daniel nodded. "Let me get the car keys."
Priscilla strode out of the house. "I'm coming with you."
Daniel turned in surprise. "Priscilla, this is totally unnecessary."
Priscilla, however, was adamant. "I want to see what's going on there, Daniel. Ian will be fine with his Grandma for a while."
They drove to Resurrection Town with the two Resistance fighters at the back seat. "Thanks for the ride, Grandpa," one of them told Daniel. Priscilla smiled faintly as her father-in-law scowled. He didn't like to be called Grandpa, though he was seventy years old.
A faint noise, like the buzzing of a disturbed hive, met them quite a way before the town. As they drove closer, Priscilla heard shouts and gunshots. She shuddered. In the distance, she glimpsed a few military jeeps, and government soldiers in khaki uniforms pouring out of them. "You'd better stop the car," one of the Resistance men said, holding on to his gun, "and turn back. Keep yourselves safe."
But once the two men scrambled out and ran to join their fellows, Priscilla laid a hand on Daniel's arm. "Wait, please?"
He frowned. "I must take you back."
"Do you think Ben is here?"
Daniel looked ahead, where a motley troop of the Resistance ran to meet the government forces, ducking away from their fire. "No," he said, but Priscilla knew he wasn't sure.
There was a string of gunfire, and a horse fell with an agonized neigh, crushing its rider underneath. "Oh, God," Priscilla moaned, gripping the bottom of her seat. They were too far to do anything, or even to make out who was winning and who was losing. It was all confusion.
"We ought to go back," Daniel said. "It does no good to anyone, putting ourselves in danger." But he didn't move.
A moment later, there was a heavy drag of feet, and a man appeared before them, pale and covered in blood, carrying another man, who had fainted away. "Please," he panted, "can you drive? This is my brother. He needs help. It's urgent. Can you take him?"
Daniel got out to help the fighter lay the wounded man across the back seat. "We'll do what we can," he promised, "but we are no doctors."
"Still better than leaving him here. We have precious few who know anything about medicine, and they all got their hands full."
"You'd better ride in the back with him, Prissy," Daniel said. "Aren't you wounded yourself?" he asked the fighter.
"I'm fine. Nothing serious. You just take care of Eric, please."
"We will. You can find us later. We have a farm to the south of here." He gave the man directions. With a nod, and a final plea to help his brother, the fighter disappeared in the direction of town.
The wounded man was unconscious and pale due to loss of blood. Priscilla, who sat with his head in her lap, felt as though she might faint away herself any moment. "What are we going to do about him?" She wished they had a doctor around, or even a seasoned healer like Gabby or Elisa. But both of these trained nurses were much too far.
"We'll do what we can," Daniel said. "Becky will try to patch him up. I'll drive as fast as I dare."
* * *
They made their way back in utter silence, which was punctuated only once by an agonized moan of the unconscious man. Once they arrived at the farm, Daniel stepped in first and asked his grandchildren to clear off. Ian, thankfully, was down for a nap.
When Rebecca saw the wounded man, she made a sharp intake of breath. "Good God, Daniel, what are we going to do? I'm afraid to d
o this poor fellow more harm than good."
"We can start by changing this dirty bandage," suggested Priscilla, trying to keep her voice steady.
Rebecca nodded. "I suppose so. Prissy, could you boil some water, please?"
Teeth clenched, Priscilla nodded and went over to the stove. "Clean bandages," Rebecca said. "Bring the first aid kit, Daniel."
After the young man's shirt was removed, everyone held their breath for a moment. There was so much blood, and the wound looked nasty. It didn't appear the bullet was stuck in the flesh, though. It went cleanly through his side, just below the ribs, which was lucky. A few inches more to the center and it would have hit some vital organ. As it was, Rebecca quickly cleaned and disinfected the wound, put on a fresh bandage and gave the man a sponge bath to remove the excess of blood.
"Should we get him up to the loft?" Priscilla asked.
Rebecca shook her head. "No. We'll make a bed for him downstairs. It'll be easier to look after him that way."
When the fighter was laid in the bed, covered with a blanket, and made as comfortable as possible, the three of them stood and looked at him. His breathing was shallow and every once in a while, his features contorted with pain.
"Well," Rebecca said, taking a deep breath, "We've done all we can, I suppose. Nothing remains now but to keep looking after him. I wonder how the folks up at Resurrection Town are doing." She bit her lip with anxiety. "I wonder if Ben—"
"I expect we'll know soon," Daniel said. "I'll try to fiddle with the Internet transmission, but you know we hardly ever get any signal here."
Ian woke from his nap and Priscilla was glad of the excuse to attend to her child. She was so worried she hardly knew which way to put on Ian's shoes as she helped him out of bed.
They spent the rest of the day quietly and tensely waiting for news from the outside world. Kate and Tony's children were recalled from the barn, and they ate a mostly silent meal at the kitchen table after Rebecca and Priscilla checked on the wounded man. He partially woke once and let out a loud moan, and Rebecca managed to spoon-feed him a little chicken broth before he passed out again.
"I wish we had some proper painkillers to give him," Priscilla said, shaking her head. "Ibuprofen just won't cut it."
"I wonder what's going on," Rebecca murmured. It wasn't until the sun was setting that they heard the hooves of horses again and rushed out to meet Eric's brother, accompanied by two other riders.
"Your brother is resting," Daniel told him at once, noticing the anxiety on the young man's face. "He lost a lot of blood and we wish we had more professional ways to help him, but we're hopeful he'll recover."
Eric's brother ran a shaky hand over his face. One of the riders next to him clapped him on the shoulder. "You see, Russ? I told you Eric's a tough one. Good for you, thinking to get him away in time. Now if he can just find his woman and kids when he gets better—"
"Hang on," Rebecca said. "Is your brother' full name Eric North, by any chance?"
"Why, yes!" Russ looked at her in surprise. "North, that's the name we go by."
"And is his wife's name Ginny?"
"Ginny's the name. They have two kids. Do you know anything about them?"
"It's her, then! We've seen her and sent her southwest to the mountains. She should be well, and we know where she is."
The man's face lit up. "Unbelievable! Eric will be so relieved! He's talked of nothing but Ginny and the kids since he sent her on the run! We'll have to keep him strapped to the bed until he recovers, or he'll tear off straight away to look for her."
"But what happened in Resurrection?" an impatient Priscilla asked.
The three men exchanged glances.
"We managed to hold them off," Russ finally said, "but only just. We won't be able to stand another attack like this, and I'm sure it will come soon enough. We lost a lot of people, too. I guess they'll be coming to finish us off any day now." He gave a despondent shake of the head.
"I'm not so sure!" Daniel said, glancing at his Internet transmitter in the corner. "Come and look at this!"
They all gathered around the little screen tuned to a jerky streaming online video. "I have never seen such a thing in my life," a harried reporter said in a rush of words. The camera showed a snapshot of a central street in an Urban Island.
To say that the street was full of people would have been an understatement. It was absolutely packed, with hardly a square inch left for anyone to squeeze in, and all those people were marching onward, sounding from afar like a great stormy sea. The unnerving ebb and flow of noise was punctuated by gunshots. The road was blocked, and a few cars were abandoned on the side of the street. One of them was burning.
"Revolutionaries are marching to the White Tower from all corners of the Urban District, demanding absolute transparency, the demolition of the Boundary and the resignation of the government," the reporter went on. "The army is currently attempting to hold back the crowds."
The video came to a halt, and no matter how much Daniel tried, he could not revive the signal. "So," he said with barely suppressed triumph, "my guess is that the White Tower might have more pressing matters to deal with right now than Resurrection Town. It looks like civil war out there."
20
________________________________
To Daniel and Rebecca's great concern, Priscilla insisted on taking the car and driving up to Resurrection Town.
"It's dangerous, Prissy," Rebecca said, "and we won't even be able to stay in touch with you. Think of Ian."
"I'll be very careful. I promise. There are people who need help. I know I'm not the most skilled nurse in the world, but I'm better than nothing."
"At least let Daniel go with you."
Priscilla shook her head as she looked at her father-in-law. "I'll feel more secure knowing you and your guns are here with the children."
Daniel wasn't happy, but he handed over the car keys and Priscilla drove away, closely pursued by the three Resistance warriors on horseback.
Vestiges of the fighting were clearly visible as they approached Resurrection Town, much of which lay in heaps of rubble, splintered wood, and broken glass. As she got out of the car, Priscilla averted her eyes from the bodies of the government soldiers thrown into a ditch. She repressed the urge to faint, vomit, or run off. Much help I'm going to be this way.
Darkness was falling, but the streetlights weren't on. "They've cut off the town's power supply," a man in a grimy, sooty sweatshirt remarked as he saw Priscilla looking at the dead lamps and neon signs. "We have some solar panels, but not nearly enough."
The lights were on at the grocery store and Priscilla imagined it had a greater supply of solar power, and perhaps generators as well. The place was packed with people, many of them sporting bandages and minor injuries, and nobody paid any attention to Priscilla as she sidled in. The entire free space of the store was taken up by benches upon which the people were sitting, and Fat Nate, the owner, stood behind the counter as if it were an oratory, gesticulating as his loud voice filled the room.
"They think they're going to put pressure on us this way. Well, we still have enough power to run the refrigerators, but I can't say the same about everyone. And the crossing points are all closed now. Nobody comes, nobody goes. So no fuel or supplies or anything from the Boundary is coming this way in the near future."
"No fuel. That's bad," a man said. "People here rely on their cars to get around. The Freeborn have their horses. They won't feel the loss of power and fuel as much."
Priscilla cleared her throat. "Excuse me. Do you know where they've taken the wounded? I'm wondering if any nurses are needed."
Her two neighbors gave her approving looks. "Sure, missy, there's a great need for nurses. You step out and head up the street to Warren's Warehouse. The wounded they didn't have spare beds for in the field hospital were put up there."
Priscilla nodded her thanks and edged out of the packed grocery store, where concerned people kept on talking and trying t
o determine what was to be done. She made her way up to Warren's, where she and Ben bought equipment for their cabin in happier days.
It appeared the warehouse was converted into an improvised infirmary for those with less serious injuries, which didn't say much, since the local little hospital's capacity wasn't nearly enough to handle the consequences of the day's battle. Priscilla approached, looking for a supervisor and trying not to get distracted by the moans and pleas of all the wounded men around. Heart-wrenching as it was, she knew there had to be some sort of method, or they would never be able to help anyone.
Finally, she spotted a neat-looking woman in a white apron who moved around with brisk efficiency.
"Excuse me. I was just wondering if you might need more help."
The woman turned to her and brightened at once. "Why, yes," she said with a sort of approving exasperation. "We need about ten times more help than we have. Anyway, here's this tray. Take it to Julie, please. She's in the wing to the right."
A tray with sterile pads and packed syringes was thrust into Priscilla's hands and the nurse scuttled away, not even bothering to ask her name.
Trying her best to look efficient and businesslike, rather than lost and confused, Priscilla moved in the direction the woman had indicated. A chair stood in her way, and upon the chair sat a man, naked to the waist, with his arm in a sling. Priscilla was about to ask him to move away and free up the path, but then her eyes widened and the tray in her hands began to clatter. With a last conscious effort, she put it aside.
"Ben!"
He turned around, wincing, as the abrupt movement caused him pain. Still, he got up, and a second later Priscilla fell into his arms, not thinking she might hurt him. He held her so tight she could feel his fiercely pounding heart. "What are you doing here, Pris? Where's Ian?"
"He's at your parents' farm, he's fine. But listen, Ben, I have your dad's car not too far off. Hold on to my arm and I'll take you home, and…"
All notion of helping in the field hospital was forgotten as a glorious warmth at the sight of her husband, alive and, upon the whole, well, settled in the pit of her stomach. She could only think of getting him away to safety, putting him in a warm bed, and feeding him a hot meal, but to her disappointment, Ben shook his head.