The Girl in the Wilderness (Leah King Book 2)

by Harris, Philip

  One of the soldiers unloading the truck, a short man that Leah would have described as lumpy, nodded to Alice as they passed. “New recruit?”

  “No,” said Leah, before Alice could respond.

  “Oh, feisty. I like it,” said the man. He winked at Leah, and she felt her face redden.

  “Get on with your work, Mitchell,” said Alice. She leaned in close to Leah. “Keep well away from him, okay? He’s a good soldier, but he’s got a… reputation.”

  Leah intended to keep away from all of them, but she nodded her understanding anyway.

  As they passed the stables, Leah stole a glance inside. A young woman with red hair was bent over one of the metal cases, sorting through its contents. A stubby green tube, about three feet long, lay in the straw beside her.

  They reached a heavy wooden door in the corner of the courtyard. It creaked on its hinges as Alice swung it open, then she stepped aside and motioned for Leah to go inside.

  The warmth hit Leah as soon as she set foot in the kitchen. The air was thick with steam and the smell of cooking. Soup bubbled on the stove, and Leah could smell some sort of meat. And bread. Definitely bread. Leah’s mouth watered.

  The man in the grease-spattered white apron stirring the huge metal pot on the stove couldn’t have looked less like a chef if he’d tried. He was the first person Leah had seen wearing anything other than camouflage and boots. He had on a pair of blue jeans that had seen much better days and a tatty pair of sneakers. His upper half was bare apart from the apron, and his back was a mass of freckles that almost matched the shock of ginger hair on his head. And if he was the chef, he clearly didn’t taste his wares. He was skinny, almost skeletal.

  He turned and gave Leah a broad smile. “Who have we here?”

  “Her name’s Leah,” said Alice. “She’s from New Leighton.”

  The chef frowned, then wiped his hand on the front of his apron and held it out to Leah. After a brief hesitation, she shook it.

  “Pleased to meet you, Leah. I’m Nathaniel, but everyone calls me Nat.”

  “Okay,” said Leah.

  Nat gave a little laugh. He had a strange accent she didn’t recognize. English, maybe. “So, you’re our latest recruit?”

  Leah frowned, but Alice cut in before she could correct him. “No, she’s just passing through. She needs some food to take with her.”

  “Oh, okay, no problem. Why don’t you take a seat, and I’ll sort out a selection of our finest rations.”

  Leah removed her pack and dug around inside for the scrap she’d found.

  Alice put her hand on Leah’s shoulder. “It’s okay; you don’t need to trade.”

  Leah almost protested. In her experience, nothing came free, and she didn’t want to owe these people anything. Then Nat reappeared holding a metal bowl filled with thick vegetable soup, and her objections evaporated.

  She thanked him and took the food. The steam from the soup wafted over her as she carried the bowl to the table, and it smelled so good she thought she might faint.

  Suddenly ravenous, she grabbed a spoon and began shoveling the food into her mouth, pausing only to grab the chunk of bread that appeared beside her and dunk it in the soup. By the time she’d finished, her earlier reticence had gone, and she eagerly accepted Alice’s offer of a second bowl. Leah couldn’t remember when she’d last had soup this good. Maybe never. She even considered accepting a third bowl when Nat reappeared and suggested she have one. Only the tightness of her overly full stomach made her turn it down.

  Once Alice had cleared away Leah’s bowl, Nat dropped a canvas bag onto the table.

  He tapped the side of it. “Right, this should be enough food for a couple of weeks, if you’re careful. It’s mostly just MREs.”

  Nat must have seen the confusion on Leah’s face. “Meals Ready to Eat. They’re not going to win any culinary awards, but they’re high calorie, and they’ve got a heat source built in so you don’t need a fire to have a lukewarm dinner.”

  Leah smiled slightly. Nat grinned at her.

  “And if you get bored of that, I also put in a few energy bars and that perennial favorite—beef jerky.”

  Leah couldn’t help but grimace.

  “I know, I know,” said Nat. “So… to liven things up a bit, I raided the captain’s secret stash of chocolate. There are only a couple bars though, so don’t scoff it all at once.”

  The soup had filled Leah almost to bursting, but still she had to resist the temptation to dig out the chocolate immediately. Both she and her father had a sweet tooth, and indulging it had been part of their Friday night “father and daughter” ritual.

  Nat pushed the bag across the table, toward Leah. It wasn’t big, but the angular bulges in its sides told Leah Nat hadn’t been lying about how much food was in there—too much. She couldn’t take it.

  Leah pursed her lips and shook her head.

  Nat’s forehead creased into a scowl. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means,” said Alice, “she doesn’t want to take it.”

  “Why not?”

  “Probably because she doesn’t want to owe us anything.”

  “Ah, she thinks we’re mafiosi?”

  Alice smiled.

  “Don’t worry, kid,” said Nat. “You can have it. We won’t hold it against you. No favors to be collected at some inconvenient point in the future.”

  Leah looked pensive.

  Alice pulled out the chair next to Leah. The wooden legs made a loud grinding sound as she dragged it across the tile floor.

  “Look,” said Alice to Leah. “I know you want to be independent, but food can be hard to come by—even if you’ve got something to trade.”

  “I’ve survived this long on my own. I don’t need your help.”

  Alice raised her eyebrows. “You’ve been on your own less than a day.”

  Leah was about to correct her when she remembered her lie. “My father taught me a lot about survival.”

  “I’m sure he did. I’m also sure he’d want you to accept this food. He wouldn’t want you to starve.”

  Leah bounced the idea around in her head. She didn’t want to owe TRACE anything, but Alice was right and Leah knew it. She couldn’t believe her father would want her to join TRACE, but she could hear his voice pointing out how foolish she was being by turning down the food. Especially the chocolate.

  Leah pulled the bag across the table. “Thank you.”

  Nat smiled. “Good, now would you like some more soup?”

  Leah shook her head. “I need to go.”

  Nat held out his hand. “Do you have a water bottle?”

  Leah gave him her canteen, and he went to the sink and filled it.

  “Why don’t you just stay the night?” said Alice. “You can leave in the morning.”

  The idea of sleeping in a bed was tempting. Only the thought of putting herself even more in debt to TRACE stopped Leah accepting. She’d survived this long without their help; she’d carry on managing without them.

  Leah stood. “No, thank you.”

  The disappointment on Alice’s face surprised Leah. Then the surprise turned to suspicion. There was something more going on here. No one just gave away things without expecting something in return. Leah grabbed the bag of supplies and stuffed it into her own backpack. It was a tight fit, and she wouldn’t have room for any more salvage. But then again, with Nat’s food, she wouldn’t need any for a while.

  Leah stood and hooked the backpack over her shoulder. Alice took the hint and opened the kitchen door. Leah thanked Nat for the food, then walked out into the courtyard.

  The truck had been unloaded, and the lumpy man, Mitchell, was just reversing it into the barn. Leah looked uneasily at the sky. The sun had dipped lower, and the clouds were thickening and turning an ominous black color. There wasn’t much light left, and she didn’t want to get caught in a storm. Maybe she should stay, just until morning.

  If Alice caught Leah’s hesitation, she
didn’t bother trying to convince her to stay again. She pointed out past the barn. “You should head north. There are fewer Transport facilities that way.” She put a hand on Leah’s shoulder. “Find a town, Bentley or Hope maybe. Don’t stay in the wilderness too long. It’s not safe.”

  Leah nodded and made a mental note to stay away from Bentley and Hope—she’d meet fewer people that way.

  Alice walked with Leah to the end of the farm building. Just before they rounded the corner, she stopped Leah. Leah tensed, instantly suspicious. Alice looked up at a window in the roof of the building beside them, put two fingers in her mouth and gave a short, high-pitched whistle.

  Nothing happened for a couple of minutes, and Leah was about to start walking again when a man with a ragged beard appeared in the window. He gave Alice a thumbs-up.

  “Okay,” said Alice, “keep moving, and watch out for Transport patrols. And the Wild Ones. They’re not as dangerous as Transport, but they can be unpredictable.”

  Leah knew all about the Wild Ones. She’d had run-ins with them before.

  “Do you have a flashlight?” asked Alice.

  “No.”

  Alice unclipped a stubby metal tube, a flashlight, from her belt and gave it to Leah.

  “I know you can look after yourself,” said Alice, “but if you change your mind, or run into trouble, we’ll be here for the next couple of days.”

  Leah nodded. “Thanks again for the food,” she said, then turned and started jogging up the hill, away from the farmhouse and TRACE.

  5

  Leah reached the edge of a huge forest as a storm began dumping the contents of its clouds on her. Raindrops pounded the trees, careening off the leaves and soaking her and the ground. Erratic, flickering lightning bathed the world in brilliant white every few minutes. Each time, Leah counted the seconds until the thunder arrived.

  Ten seconds.

  Nine seconds.

  Seven seconds.

  The forest was dark and dismal. The trees seemed to crowd around Leah, looming over her out of the darkness. The smell of rotting vegetation filled the air, riled up by the pounding rain. Leah caught glimpses of shadows moving between the trees but always out of the corner of her eye. Whenever she turned to look, the shadows were gone—dissolving into the background like smoke on the wind.

  Leah shuddered. This was the worst storm she’d experienced since the City had been destroyed. Her jacket wasn’t waterproof, and she could feel the dampness seeping through it, into her shirt and then to her skin. The chill of the water made her think of winter. She’d need to find somewhere to live before the temperature dropped, or Transport would be the least of her worries.

  Lightning flashed again, and this time, there was barely a pause before the thunder rolled in. The trees rattled with the storm’s wrath. Ahead of her, a branch snapped—the sound of something large breaking through the undergrowth.

  She suddenly wished she’d asked TRACE for a gun. She couldn’t fire one, or at least hadn’t ever tried, but how hard could it be? Just aim and squeeze.

  Leah peered through the trees, but the only movement she could find was the shifting of branches as the wind cut through them.

  A narrow trail led east and west, just inside the boundary of the forest. To continue north, she’d have to cut through the trees. Or she could follow the trail around. Not that she really knew where she was going. Alice had told her north was safer, but how much safer wasn’t clear. Leah didn’t have a destination in mind, just that she wanted to get as far away from the City, and Transport’s war with TRACE, as she could.

  As another burst of lightning illuminated the forest, Leah started moving west along the trail. She needed to find shelter, then she could worry about where she was actually heading.

  She made slow progress. In places, nature had begun to reclaim the trail, and Leah had to skirt around brambles or push her way through tangled bushes. Her path twisted left and right, sometimes cutting deep enough into the forest that Leah could see nothing but trees. Other times the trail vanished and she traveled across open ground alongside the forest. To her dismay, that exposed her to the rain and an increasingly powerful wind. Her wet clothes weighed her down, dragging her spirits along for the ride. A few tears escaped the corner of her eyes, and she wiped them away, telling herself they were just raindrops.

  There was no sign of civilization, not even a road. Leah wished she’d asked Alice for a map. She could be walking past other farms, or skirting the edge of a town and never know. More regrets, more proof that she was out of her depth.

  Leah clenched her teeth and muttered, “Stop feeling sorry for yourself.”

  Something crunched beneath Leah’s feet—gravel. She knelt. She was crossing another trail. It was narrow, wide enough for an Amish cart but not much else. There were patches of gravel dotted here and there where someone had filled in potholes.

  Leah felt the beginnings of hope. If people were repairing the track, that had to mean it went somewhere. She reprimanded herself again. She’d gotten into a rhythm, stopped paying attention to her surroundings and almost missed something significant. She’d never survive if she kept being this stupid.

  She was thirty feet or so from the edge of the forest and couldn’t see much beyond the trees, but it looked like the track continued across the hills. Leah didn’t hesitate. She turned onto the track and began jogging along it, her pack thumping against her back as she ran. The rain seemed to lessen as though Nature herself was showing her approval of Leah’s actions.

  The trail widened slightly once it broke free of the forest. It continued on for a couple of hundred feet, then turned right and dropped away down a slope. There was more gravel here, and it was spread in a layer across the track. There were no buildings ahead, no lights, but Leah let herself smile. Someone had been maintaining the track, which probably meant there was a town or some sort of civilization nearby, somewhere she could find shelter.

  Ten minutes later, Leah crested the hill and saw what she’d hoped for—a building. She had to resist the urge to just run down the hill and hammer on the door to be let in. Instead, she slowed her pace. There were no lights and no vehicles, but she moved hunched over anyway.

  As she got closer Leah saw the building was little more than a ruin. Most of the roof was missing. A few stubborn beams remained, cutting across the building like ribs. The walls had fared just as badly. The front one was relatively intact, but the remaining three were in various stages of collapse. Whitewashed brick lay scattered around the building.

  The more Leah looked, the lower her spirits sank. The inside of the building was blackened and burned. Whatever furniture had once been inside had been reduced to piles of charred firewood. A weatherworn sign hung crookedly outside the front door declaring the building to be The New Inn. Leah gave a little snort. If this was the new inn, she’d hate to see the old one.

  There were no signs of other buildings, and Leah was about to turn away when she caught sight of an angled sheet of corrugated iron at the back of the inn. A few quick steps around the side, and she found what she was looking for. A small building, a brick storage shed, had been built at the back of the building. And it had survived the fire.

  The shed’s wooden door was secured by a padlock, but the bracket was rusty. Leah found a metal bar in the grass nearby and levered the padlock off. She had to lift the door slightly to get it over the uneven ground as she opened it.

  There was no light inside, so Leah pulled the flashlight from the side pocket of her backpack and flicked it on. The room was small and dusty, with a cluster of ragged cobwebs in one corner and a few large metal kegs stacked in another, but it was dry.

  A gust of wind gently lifted Leah forward. Smiling, Leah let the breeze carry her inside. She swept the flashlight around the shed again, checking for other residents, then closed the door behind her. The rain clattered against the roof a few inches above her head.

  The water dripping from Leah’s clothes created littl
e puddles on the ground. She pulled her jacket off and draped it over the pile of barrels to dry, then took off her boots and put them in the corner. The ground was hard-packed earth, and it took her a few minutes to find a comfortable place to sit. In the end, she wedged herself into the corner opposite the door, her backpack beside her.

  Leah drank some of her water, then leaned her head back against the wall. Her arms and legs were tired, the dull ache of extended exercise. She knew from the last month’s travels that she’d be almost too stiff to move when she woke.

  She closed her eyes. Her belly was still full from the soup, and for the first time since she’d left her father dying outside the City, Leah slept without hunger gnawing at her.

  6

  A heavy, bass rumble dragged Leah back awake. Confusion swept over her. Images of fire and retina-searing light cascaded through her mind. Pushing them away, she fumbled at the wall, searching for the light switch that would turn on her bedside lamp. Her hand brushed against rough brick and her confusion deepened. Her limbs were heavy, awkward, almost as though they belonged to someone else.

  Then reality shoved the confusion aside, and Leah remembered. She was in a shed, sheltering from a storm. The rain was still pounding the metal roof, but there was another sound, a deep rumbling, like thunder but unending.

  Leah froze. The noise was an engine, and it sounded a lot like the trucks that carried Transport Authority personnel around the City. Had carried them around the City, Leah corrected herself.

  The engine revved, and there was a loud clank. The vehicle was close, maybe even right outside the shed. Leah held her breath and mouthed a silent plea for whoever it was to leave. Then the engine rattled and died.

  Leah grabbed her pack and scrabbled across the floor. She caught her knee on something in the dark and almost cried out. At the door, she peered through a split in the wood. It was still dark outside. She couldn’t see the truck.

  She shifted position and found another crack, this one between the door and the shed’s brick wall. This time, she could see the tail end of the truck. It was generic, military green, with a canvas top. Maybe it belonged to TRACE. Maybe Alice had come looking for her.