When the guard appeared, Donna turned her face to the wall and covered herself with her blanket. Susanna’s heart ached for her. During the march she’d been shared around by some of the Elect, especially one brute named Jeb. Susanna had been Jeb’s servant, shining his boots and mending his clothes by the fire while trying not to hear what was going on in the tent just a few feet away.
The sun set and the interior of the barracks grew pitch black. Susanna and Donna huddled together in one bed, using their two blankets and their own body heat to try and keep warm.
“We have to get out of this place,” Susanna whispered to her friend.
“How?”
While Susanna couldn’t see, she imagined the look of despair on Donna’s face.
Yes, how? They were too weak to run. They had no weapons except for whatever tools they could pick up. They had nothing.
No, that wasn’t quite true. They only appeared to have nothing. The guards around them were careless. If Abe hadn’t come in she would have smacked the guard with that wooden handle and tried to get his gun.
And then what? Fight her way out? The guards would have slaughtered them all.
She had to think. The guards would probably get more cautious as she and the other porters grew in strength. The time to act was now. Soon, anyway. First build up some strength, and don’t make any moves unless that guard or one like him forced them into it. Then, if a similar situation presented itself, she could get a weapon and use the guard as a hostage. Demand food and safe passage. That might work.
She was amazed at her boldness. She’d always been the quiet one, rarely giving her opinion and even more rarely listened to. Back at her settlement she had farmed and cooked and kept quiet, letting others make the decisions and take the lead. She had always been pushed around. Not in any nasty way, the others at the settlement had been nice enough, but they had always assumed they could tell her what to do.
And they’d been right.
So what had changed? Susanna thought for a moment. It had been Eduardo. It had been that moment when she looked at Eduardo’s corpse and chose starvation over cannibalism. Others would have chosen to eat him. The self-styled survivors. The pushy ones. The greedy ones. The ones who didn’t have a line they wouldn’t cross. The ones who thought she was weak. She wondered, if the roles had been reversed, whether Eduardo would have eaten her.
That didn’t matter. The fact remained that she had drawn a line and put herself squarely on the side of decency. So what if she lived in a fallen world where decency was considered a fault? She was going to be good anyway.
That goodness might get her killed. The lawless ones were right about that. This wasn’t the kind of world that rewarded goodness.
The hard knot inside her that had first formed when she had thrown away her firestriker clenched even tighter. So what if the world didn’t reward goodness? Goodness was its own reward.
It had to be. Otherwise life wasn’t worth living.
She drifted off, her last fragmented thoughts still turning over her place in this sad world, morphing into dreams in which she was someone different, a hero from one of the old stories, fighting on the side of right and vanquishing evil.
She smiled in her sleep. Dreams were so much better than reality.
The next morning they were given breakfast and allowed to walk out in the sun for a short time. Susanna was relieved to see the guard with the groping hands wasn’t on duty. When Abe came looking for workers to help dig a well Donna volunteered. Susanna knew why. Worn out as Donna was, she wanted to take a shift when that man was off duty. Susanna hung back. She was too tired to dig, and she knew that man had no desire for her.
The work crew was led away and the rest had some time to sit in the sun. A woman came over with a basket full of potatoes and a few knives and ordered the prisoners to peel them. Susanna did as she was told without a word.
“And do it right,” the woman said as she left with an arrogant swagger. “I’ve heard how lazy you people are.”
Everyone set to work. It was an easy task even in their weakened condition. As she set to it she gave furtive looks around. A guard sat on a tree stump not far off, shotgun on his lap. He didn’t seem to be paying much attention. The others worked meekly. Rage rose up in her. How could they be so submissive? She bit the feeling back. Hadn’t she been the same all her life, and didn’t she look just like they did right now?
She turned back to her work and considered the knife she was using. It was short, dull, and badly forged. It wouldn’t make much of a weapon. It didn’t even have a point. No, she wouldn’t try to hide it. Best to get their confidence.
When they finished peeling the basket of potatoes the woman gave them another one.
Some of the weaker prisoners began to slow down. Even this simple task proved too much for them. Susanna kept working, her hands moving automatically as she studied her surroundings. The men and women of Weissberg went about their business. She noticed that the building she thought might be a storeroom was just that. She saw a woman come out with a bag of flour, perhaps the very one that she had ground while that creep fondled her friend.
In another direction she could see the crew digging the well in the distance, using picks and shovels to break up the earth and put it into leather buckets. They were on the slope of the hill where the palisade dipped down to incorporate a lower area. Still, they’d have a long dig before they hit ground water. There was a stream just at the base of the hill but Abe and his followers obviously wanted a water source inside the walls in case of a siege.
Now that the Righteous Horde has been defeated, who are they afraid of? New City?
As she watched, one of the old men collapsed, his shovel falling to the ground beside him with a clatter. The crew’s guard stormed over and berated him. The rest of the diggers didn’t look like they were making much progress either. As the guard’s attention was diverted they all stopped working. He spun around, gestured with his gun, and they bent over and started digging again. The old man struggled to his knees and used his hands to fill one of the buckets with dirt.
Susanna glanced back at the man guarding her own group. He was watching the well crew with a snide grin. She checked that no one else was looking and then tucked a potato in the inside pocket of her shirt.
Eduardo’s shirt, she reminded herself.
Her heart raced until she could assure herself that she had gotten away with it. In the Righteous Horde what she had done would have earned her an immediate death sentence. She didn’t think she ran such a risk here. She’d probably only get a beating or a day without food. Abe seemed like the type who wanted to think of himself as a good person, as long as he didn’t have to think too hard about it.
The woman came back for the second basket and scanned the work crew with a sneer. Half of them had dropped out. It had been nearly an hour and the last potatoes were still being peeled. Once they were done she collected the knives and counted them. Then she turned to the crew.
“Stand up and turn out your pockets,” she ordered.
Susanna tensed. Everyone stood. Berating herself for being so incautious, she stood with the rest of them. She turned out her pockets, grateful that Eduardo’s shirt hung loosely on her so that the inside pocket and its precious contents didn’t bulge out.
What if they search inside our clothes? Lots of people have pockets inside their clothing to hide things.
Whether or not the woman was going to order them to do that, Susanna would never know, because an old man near her turned out his pockets and a potato fell out. He hung his head.
The woman went up to him and smacked him across the face.
“I knew we couldn’t trust you people!” she screamed. “Just a bunch of filthy scavengers and fundamentalists!”
She smacked him again, harder this time. The old man staggered but didn’t resist. He didn’t even try to dodge the next blow.
“I lost a cousin to you scum, and my best friend!”
She hit him again. Her face was twisted with rage, teeth showing in a snarl. She shook all over.
Then she drew a Bowie knife out of a sheath on her belt.
“Don’t!” Susanna screamed.
The woman rounded on her.
“What? What did you say?”
A chill ran though Susanna. She staggered back a step. The woman strode over to her, gripping her knife.
“That’s enough,” the guard said. He sounded bored.
The woman stopped, her knife shaking she gripped it so hard. Susanna was frozen in terror.
If she takes another step, run.
I’m not sure I can.
And even if I can, where do I run?
“I said that’s enough. Abe says we can’t kill them,” the guard said.
The woman’s eyes narrowed. At last she sheathed her knife. Susanna fell to the ground, trembling.
Be strong. You have to be strong.
“Abe should have never brought these pieces of shit here,” the woman said.
She turned from Susanna and walked past the old man, who cowered. She gave him another slap, picked up the basket, and walked away.
Susanna remained trembling on the ground.
“You OK?” a soft voice asked.
She looked up. To her surprise it wasn’t one of her companions. It was a Weissberg woman. She was well dressed and well fed, and yet had a sympathetic look. Susanna blinked. It was the first kind look she’d seen from a stranger in a long, long time. The woman reached out her hand. Susanna took it and the woman pulled her up.
“I’m Bridget,” she said.
“I’m Susanna.”
Susanna looked into Bridget’s eyes and saw no falseness there.
Suddenly she was filled with a desperate hope.
Maybe there’s a way out of this prison.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Annette led the prisoners through the Burbs as a mob of citizens, residents, and scavengers coalesced around them. Many were shouting and shaking their fists at the prisoners. Some tried to grab them and Annette and her deputies had to push them back. She was grateful to see Clyde helping in this, and angry to see her special deputy Christina Raines standing back and doing nothing.
She understood her anger. Hell, she felt the same anger herself, but what were they supposed to do, sink down to the cult’s level? They were supposed to be the start of a new civilization, not some pack of barbarians with electricity.
“Enough already!” she shouted. “You people elected me sheriff and these are my prisoners. You want blood? Go join the Righteous Horde!”
Clyde pitched in. “These prisoners offered to share some valuable information about the enemy. We’re keeping them for interrogation.”
That settled things down a bit. Annette had to admit that Clyde’s practical words worked better than her moral ones.
She moved in close to Jeb, the one who liked to talk.
“You better have something good for The Doctor,” she said in a low voice.
“Or what? You’re handing me over to this folks?” he asked.
He looked afraid. She couldn’t blame him. Annette shook her head.
“No. The worst you’ll get is to be marched to the edge of our lands and banished on pain of death. I promised you your life and you’ll get it.”
“I think you mean that,” he said, obviously surprised.
“I do, but don’t mistake kindness for weakness or it will be the last mistake you’ll ever make.”
The corner of Jeb’s mouth twitched upwards and his eyes briefly left her own to glance up and down her body.
“You’re a tough customer. I like that.”
Annette rolled her eyes. Great. She hadn’t had so much as a kiss in years and in the past few days she’d attracted the attentions of a pimp and a machete man. She preferred celibacy.
Clyde and a couple of his men managed to disperse the crowd. As people returned to their homes and market stalls, Pablo and a couple of his friends came up. Pablo carried his most prized possession—a baseball from the Old Times. One of his friends carried a stick carved into the semblance of a bat. All were covered with dust. Annette frowned when she saw that Pablo had torn one of the knees on his pants again. She hated sewing.
“Hey mom!” Pablo said, giving her a big hug before turning to stare at the prisoners. “Who are they?”
“People from that army that attacked us,” Annette told her son.
Pablo took a step back. Jeb knelt down.
“You Annette’s son? Your mom saved us. We escaped from that crazy guy and your mom saved us. Hey, that’s a great baseball. I used to play a lot when—”
“Don’t talk to him!” Annette barked.
“Sorry,” Jeb said, standing up. “It’s just nice to see kids still playing baseball. My dad taught me.”
“Did he now,” Annette said, unimpressed. What was this guy playing at?
Jeb gestured at the other boy with the carved stick. “Taught me how to carve a bat too. I could make one ten times better than that. Guaranteed homerun every time.”
The boys’ eyes widened.
“Really?” Pablo said.
“Go play!” Annette said.
The boys headed out, Pablo looking back over his shoulder at Jeb. The prisoner watched them go.
“Baseball, damn. How long has it been?” he whispered.
“All of you keep your mouths shut unless you’re asked a question,” Annette told them.
Just then she spotted Ahmed and a couple other members of the Burb Council approaching them at a fast walk.
More trouble. Just what I needed.
“What’s this about putting a criminal in my house?” Ahmed demanded. “And who said you could take prisoners from the Righteous Horde?”
“Oh great, they got fucking Arabs here,” the big redheaded prisoner grumbled.
“I thought I told you to shut up,” Annette said.
“You got Chinamen too?” the man glowered at her.
“I got bullet with your name on it if I hear another word out of you.”
The prisoner curled his lip but didn’t reply. Ahmed glared at him and turned to Annette.
“The Burb Council hasn’t authorized taking prisoners or approved a jailhouse,” he said.
“Which is why we have to keep the thief at your house,” Annette replied. “Do you have room for these prisoners too?”
“Absolutely not!”
Annette smiled. She really shouldn’t enjoy this so much; it was bad politics. Jackson cut in.
“I move that we create a jail right away.”
“With what funds?” Ahmed asked.
“None right now. I have some spare canvas for a shelter. Clyde, can we borrow some razor wire to make an enclosure?”
The Head of the Watch nodded.
“Sure. We can set it up in the open ground in front of the wall. That way my sentries can watch over them without being taken away from their duty. I won’t have to assign an extra guard. This is only temporary, mind you.”
“That will be fine,” Jackson nodded. He turned to his fellow council members. “We have a quorum here, all in favor?”
“Aye,” Ahmed and the other two said.
Ahmed added, “What about the thief in my spare room?”
“He’ll have to stay. It’s only for a day. Wouldn’t be fair to put him in with this lot,” Annette said.
Ahmed thought for a moment. “All right, but the expenses we get from him go to me.”
“Fair enough,” Annette said.
Jackson nodded. “Let’s get it done. Annette, can you spare me a minute while I go home and get that tarp?”
“Sure,” she replied.This guy’s turning out to be a good organizer. Who would have thought?
Clyde sent one of his men to collect the razor wire and the posse led the prisoners to the open field in front of the wall.
“Remember this place?” the Head of the Watch taunted them. “This is where we whooped your as
ses. Those dark patches on the ground are bloodstains. So much for your Righteous Horde.”
“That’s enough, Clyde,” Annette said. She saw no use in mocking them. They looked upset enough. The four weakest ones looked at the bloodstains and the burnt patches caused by Roy’s Molotov cocktails and shuddered. Even the big redhead looked grim. The one called Jeb, however, was looking at the Burbs with an unreadable expression.
“It’s like something from an old magazine,” he said.
Annette looked at the jumble of frame houses, log cabins, and tents.
“Well, not quite, but it’s home,” Annette said, feeling a flush of pride.
“Your way is sure better than The Pure One’s.”
Annette studied him. Although he sounded like he was kissing up, he also sounded like he meant it.
“Why did you join up with that lunatic?” she asked.
“We had to,” one of the other machete men said before Jeb could answer. “They came to our settlement and told us to convert or die. We didn’t want to fight you.”
Clyde snorted. “You guys fought pretty hard for a bunch of people who didn’t want to fight.”
“It was that or get a bullet in the back of the head,” Jeb said.
Annette turned to the big redhead, the one he had heard the others call Leonard.
“But you bought into all this junk, didn’t you?”
“No ma’am I didn’t,” the big man said, shaking his head and trying to look remorseful. “I got given the same lousy choice as the rest of them.”
“That didn’t stop you from raping that girl at the last settlement we took,” Jeb said.
“What the hell you talking about? You didn’t even know me until a few days ago!” Leonard bellowed.
“She couldn’t have been more than thirteen,” Jeb said.
“That’s a lie!”
Leonard lunged at him. Annette leveled her shotgun at him as Clyde drew a pistol.
Refugees from the Righteous Horde (Toxic World Book 2) Page 7