Jeb went back to his vigil on the wire.
He studied the Burbs. While he couldn’t see down the main street to the marketplace where The Pure One’s gun crew had set up the Gau-18/E to strafe the wall, he could see enough lanes and houses and tents to know that the Burbs was even more full of life and activity than New City. People talked and laughed and traded, and several residents had set up their own little businesses.
The sun shone fine in a clear sky and while the winter air felt crisp, it was pleasant enough that everyone was out. In front of one tent near the edge of the Burbs a woman had set up a loom and was weaving some cloth. Not far off a man had set up a little bar, nothing more than a plank set atop two barrels and a few rickety stools for the patrons. Despite it being early in the morning he was conducting a brisk business. Another man walked by with strings of fish draped over each shoulder, calling out, “Fresh fish! Just off the boat! Fresh fish!”
Jeb snorted. There was no such thing as fresh fish. It was all toxic, and anyone who could afford otherwise ate something else. Even his captors hadn’t served their prisoners fish. He bet it hadn’t even occurred to the citizens of New City to feed them fish.
Despite that grim reminder of the state of the world, Jeb marveled at the life in this place. Men and women busied themselves with the day’s work, or sat chatting in pairs or small groups. A pack of kids ran laughing between the tents, heading for the nicer homes a little further away. Jeb looked to see if Pablo was among them but didn’t spot him.
A short while later Pablo did go by, hurrying on some errand into New City and hurrying back out a few minutes later. The kid glanced in his direction but didn’t come over. Jeb felt glum. About an hour later Clyde and some guards came out and started building another barbed wire enclosure.
Jeb perked up. What was going on? Annette appeared and his gaze followed her eagerly as she passed by. To his disappointment she didn’t come over. Then he looked at her companions—four porters from the Righteous Horde.
“It looks like we’re not going to be the only ones,” one of the machete men said. “I wonder what they plan to do with us all?”
Good question.
Jeb studied the faces of the four newcomers. No, he didn’t recognize any of them. A good thing too, because that younger piece would have been someone he would have pulled out of the porter camp for a night’s entertainment.
If they bring anyone in who could recognize me I’ll be in deep shit.
He tried to reassure himself that with his beard shaved and wearing different clothes, it was unlikely someone would recognize him. The porters and machete men made a habit of looking down when being addressed by one of the Elect. That was wise. He’d cracked a few heads for the sake of discipline himself. But still, he felt exposed sitting here behind a spool of wire for all to see.
Hope we head out soon.
The porters were locked inside the wire. A couple of townies came by and gave them food, one of them giving the machete men a nasty look. A little while later he saw Pablo coming back, carrying his stick bat and baseball. This time the kid looked over his shoulder with a guilty air and then walked in his direction.
Careful, Jeb. Play this right and you could get a hell of a payoff. Just go slow and see how it goes.
Jeb hunched on the ground and put on a sad face.
“Hey,” Pablo said.
Jeb looked up as if he hadn’t noticed Pablo arriving. The kid had stopped well out of reach.
“Oh, hey! You been playing?”
“We play every day.”
“I used to play baseball,” one of the machete men said.
Jeb shot him a look and the man shut up. Turning to Pablo he said, “Still with that same old bat?”
“It’s not so bad,” Pablo said defensively.
“Oh, sure, if you want to play stickball. But if you want to hit hard and far, you got to have the right material. That looks like you whittled it from an old oak branch. Not a bad job either. But the best wood for a bat is maple. You don’t get maple trees much in these parts but I’ve seen a few in the foothills. Maple is really strong so the ball flies right off the bat. Makes it go farther. The bat will last longer too. And you also have to get the right shape. I saw the inside of that warehouse. It’s a great setup. I’m thinking the machine shop has a lathe, am I right?”
“What’s a lathe?”
“It’s a machine that will turn something while you cut at it. That way you get an even cut all around. But even without a lathe you can use a knife to carve a decent bat if you got the time.”
With that Jeb let out a little chuckle and looked around at the wire that surrounded him. Pablo followed his look and smiled.
Good, you get my point.
“You sure know a lot,” the kid said.
“When I was your age they couldn’t keep me off the diamond. My dad and I practiced every night after he came in from the fields. Your dad practice with you?”
Pablo’s face fell. “My dad’s dead.”
Bingo.
Jeb put on a sad face.
“That’s too bad. We sure had a good time playing. I was one of the best. There was this other kid, though, Randy. Damn he could throw a curveball like you’ve never seen. He was tough to beat. I scored a couple of homers on him, though.”
“A curveball?”
“It’s a pitching trick where the ball looks like it’s coming in at a curve. Fools the batter.”
Pablo’s eyes widened. “How do you do that?”
“Kind of hard to show you when I’m locked up in here. When your mom lets me out I can show you.”
Pablo gave him a suspicious look. “She’s letting you out?”
“We’re going to hunt down The Pure One and get rid of him. I hate that guy. I never wanted to be in his army and so we’re going to hunt him down and save the Burbs.”
Pablo looked hurt.
“Mom’s going away again?”
Not getting enough adult attention, are you? That could be very, very useful.
“Just for a little while, and it’s to save the Burbs, like I said. After that I can show you how to pitch a curveball. I’d make you a bat too but I don’t have any tools.”
Careful now.
The kid was about to respond when Annette’s voice shouted from the distance.
“Pablo! Get over here right his instant!”
“Uh oh, I gotta go. See you!”
With a wave and a smile Pablo was gone.
Jeb watched as Annette gave the boy a tongue-lashing. But then she laughed, probably confident that the kid hadn’t been in any real danger. She gave Jeb a hard look before she and her son walked away together. He felt a tug of disappointment when she didn’t come over.
Jeb spent the rest of the day stuck in the pen, watching the world go by. Lunch came, then dinner. Boats sailed out into the cove and came back with hauls of fish. Herds of bleating sheep and goats passed by, their owners leading them out of New City and heading back to the outlying farms now that the danger had passed. A few people stopped to stare, and once a crowd gathered to jeer at the prisoners before a guard shooed them away. Otherwise he and the other prisoners were ignored. It seemed, Jeb mused, that with the attack over and the shattered remains of the Righteous Horde limping away into the wildlands, people were eager to get on with their lives.
And they had lives to live, better lives than he had known since he was a kid.
At both meals he got extra shares. He felt almost full strength now and was growing restless. He found himself pacing back and forth in the tiny enclosure. The machete men huddled to one side to give him room. The one he had knocked out had a black eye. He wouldn’t even look at Jeb. They, too, were regaining some strength, except for the sick one, but none of them showed much life. They were just glad it was all over, and sitting where they were and waiting for their next meal was all they really had any ambition for.
As day turned to night and the gate was closed once again, Jeb realized
that Annette would not visit him today, and Pablo probably wouldn’t come back at all. He felt a nagging regret and something else, a strange feeling that he hadn’t known in a long, long time.
A moment later he realized he’d been feeling it all that time and just ignored it.
Loneliness.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Over the next few days Susanna’s life fell into a predictable routine. In the morning after breakfast Bridget would fetch her from the barracks. Thankfully, Derren was usually away or sleeping off the previous night’s drinking, so Susanna didn’t have to see much of him.
During the day Susanna cleaned the house, churned butter, made bread, prepared meals, mended clothing, patched up the boys when they got into fights, and kept Bridget company.
She realized that this last task was what Bridget really wanted her around for. The neighbors tended to avoid her, except for one shrill-voiced old woman named Helga who bitched about life even more than Bridget did, and with far less reason. Her husband—a quiet, balding mechanic who Susanna never heard speak—was completely cowed by his bad choice in wives and did everything he could to please her.
For most of the long hours of the day Susanna was alone with her new mistress. Bridget would steadily drink the whole day through, morphing from the friendly, smiling woman who on their first meeting had filled Susanna with such hope, into a sullen, complaining drunk who vacillated between rage and tears.
If Bridget had been a friend and Susanna had had her freedom, she would have told her to leave Derren, but that wasn’t the situation. Instead Susanna tried to shore up Bridget’s ego and soothe her nerves. She needed to keep her sympathy.
And that sympathy was paying off. Bridget gave her extra food, and every night Susanna went back to the barracks with her pockets filled with bread or dried fruit or other treasures. One evening after an especially weepy session she even gave Susanna a worn old blanket to take back with her. Susanna added to these gifts by swiping food from the kitchen any time she had the chance.
In the meantime Susanna made sure to be present for all three meals Abe’s goons served the prisoners. Bridget let her walk across the compound alone to get lunch. Nobody seemed to care much. The gate was guarded and the sentries assumed there was nowhere for her to run even if she did get out.
She was amazed at how quickly her strength returned. She was eating twice as much as she had in months. Her body began to fill out and her energy went back to normal. After a week she started hoarding food for her eventual escape. She didn’t dare leave food in her barracks—there had already been several thefts and fights over scraps—so she was forced to carry it all with her and hope no one searched her. In the mornings she’d stuff herself to reduce the amount that she might lose if they did, and during the day she’d replace it with the extras Bridget gave her or whatever she could slip into her pockets. She’d never stolen anything before, but she didn’t feel like this was stealing. It was more like retribution.
Once again she was surprised at how lax the guards were. Nobody ever searched her and she was free to go on short errands and walk herself back to the barracks at the end of the day. Abe and his followers obviously figured that nobody would try to escape.
Her next big shock was how quickly she got to prove them wrong.
One morning Bridget announced they were going out into the surrounding hills to gather nuts. There was a copse not far off where a population of squirrels was bound to have a good supply.
“I just can’t stare at these four walls for another second,” Bridget sighed. “They’re closing in on me. It will be nice to have a walk and get some fresh air.”
“But the guards will never let me go out,” Susanna said.
“You’re not a prisoner, you’re a citizen on a probationary period,” Bridget said with ill-concealed mockery. “There’s nowhere for you to go anyway. We’re in the middle of nowhere and the Righteous Horde picked the land clean. There are still machete men out there, you know. A patrol fought some just yesterday.”
Susanna tensed. Was that true, or was Bridget just trying to scare her?
“I wouldn’t want to meet those bastards again,” Susanna said. She didn’t have to feign her fear.
“Oh, I don’t think you have anything to worry about with them,” Bridget laughed, looking her up and down.
Susanna bit back her response.
You’re not much of a looker yourself, and on the inside you’re almost as ugly as your husband.
Bridget packed a basket with bread, goat’s cheese, and some leftover rabbit from last night’s dinner, plus the essential jug of corn whiskey. She gave it to Susanna to carry along with a blanket.
“We’ll have an old-fashioned picnic!” she laughed.
Susanna nodded, calculating how long to food would last her. The blanket would come in handy too. They headed out of the house.
“Where are the boys?” Susanna asked. If they came along that might cause problems.
“Oh, they’re staying at the neighbors, thank God. We’ll be free of them for a day.
And I’ll be free of the little monsters for life.
They headed over to a tool shed where Bridget borrowed a short ladder made of branches nailed together. With Susanna carrying the ladder, blanket, and picnic basket, they headed to the gate.
Susanna’s heart thumped in her chest. The gate loomed closer, flanked by two sour-faced men carrying rifles. The open exit seemed to mock her. She’d looked at it with hopeless longing ever since she’d been brought here. The guards studied her as they approached. Susanna tried to calm herself, breathing slowly and tensing her muscles to try to stop her trembling. She kept her head down as they arrived at the gate.
“Hey Bridget, what are you doing?” one of the guards asked.
“We’re going to gather nuts at the copse. My servant is going to help me.”
“Does Derren know about this?”
The second guard cut in. “He told me. It’s OK.”
The first guard stalked over to where Susanna stood. A rough hand grabbed her chin and forced her to look up at him. Cold gray eyes fixed her with a searching look.
“You better not think of running away,” he said.
“She knows better than that. We’re friends!” Bridget said.
Despite her terror, Susanna had to bite back a laugh.
“Just so you know,” the guard went on, “there are sentries on the hilltops. You probably saw them as you came in. Patrols too. They’ve been given instructions to shoot runaways on sight.”
“Oh Mark, lay off her! She knows which side her bread is buttered on,” Bridget said.
“I’m treated better here than I was in the Righteous Horde,” Susanna said in a shaking voice.
Sad to say, that’s actually true.
The guard’s eyes narrowed.
“We lost a lot of good people because of that stinking crew. You got to earn our trust, you hear me? You probably think we’re taking advantage of you lot, having you work like you are. You think the scavengers would have been so kind? Or the people back in New City? No, they’d have killed you on the spot. We’re giving you a second chance.”
“I know. I appreciate it. Thank you.”
The guard gave her a long, searching look. Susanna tried to control her trembling.
Why is it always this way? Why do I always back down?
The guard jerked his head in the direction of the gate.
“Get a move on.”
She and Bridget walked out of the gate. As they passed through, Susanna couldn’t stop her trembling anymore. She found herself crying, and angrily wiped the tears from her eyes. Bridget glanced at her and looked away, pretending not to notice.
They walked down the path that cut along the side of the hill, then passed through a narrow gully and around another hill. Susanna’s heart lifted as Weissberg disappeared from sight.
Bridget sighed in relief.
“It’s so nice to get out of there. It feels like a
prison.”
Susanna resisted the urge to slap her.
“You know, I never wanted to move here, but Derren is Abe’s right-hand man so he couldn’t really say no. Got a bunch of farmland and livestock in the deal and we eat well. No electricity, though. I miss electricity. Only Abe’s got electricity. Him and the machine shop.”
“So why did everyone move out here?”
Bridget made a face. “To get away from The Doctor and that stupid Citizens Council. They’re too soft on scavengers.”
“I’ve seen some here.”
Bridget shrugged. “Yeah, well, we don’t have the numbers to get all the work done. We couldn’t bring the whole Merchants Association all at once. We told the folks back in New City we were moving out to take care of our farms, but if everyone went that would look too suspicious. Abe’s got some scavengers he can trust who have worked on his farms before or done other jobs for him. I suppose the best ones will get to be citizens of Weissberg eventually but I don’t like them. They’re low class.”
“It seems a shame to move away from New City. From what I’ve heard it sounds wonderful.”
Susanna wanted to keep the conversation going. She had a feeling this information could be useful.
“It is,” Bridget said with a sigh. “There’s not another settlement like it that I’ve ever heard of. But the guy who runs it, that’s The Doctor, he’s a real pain. Him and his second-in-command Marcus are always giving away stuff. You know The Doctor treats people in the Burbs and even scavengers for free? He should save his medicine for citizens, not the trash that comes out of the wildlands.”
“I don’t know, it sounds nice.”
“Look where niceness got him! When your army attacked, Marcus let in the people from the Burbs and the scavengers too. Some of them turned out to be spies from your cult. They shot The Doctor. But do you think he learned his lesson? Hell no! Once he recovered he went right back to giving handouts.”
They passed between two hills and out onto a level plateau. The copse stood not far ahead. Susanna thought about what Bridget had said. While she didn’t understand it all, it seemed that this Merchants Association wanted to be in charge even though The Doctor was more popular. He sounded like a great man. Who cured the sick for free in this world? And these people were stabbing him in the back.
Refugees from the Righteous Horde (Toxic World Book 2) Page 13