The Girl in the Wilderness (Leah King Book 2)

by Harris, Philip

  They’d bound her hands behind her back, which made it harder to keep her balance on the uneven terrain. Leah fell several times. When she did, the woman grabbed her wrists and hauled her back to her feet. Leah thought the woman might tear her arms from her sockets if she wasn’t careful.

  The camp was located in a natural dip that sheltered it from the surrounding area so well that Leah didn’t see the camp until they were right on top of it. It was small, just a cluster of makeshift shelters—triangular structures built of branches and sticks.

  A dozen or so Wild Ones inhabited the camp. Some chatted in pairs, others worked quietly, sharpening knives or cleaning guns. They all wore variations on the fur coat the man-bear wore—some heavy, some thinner, all of them ragged and grimy.

  A pit a couple of feet deep had been dug in the middle of the camp. It was filled with firewood. A metal spit supported by two A-shaped frames stood above it.

  Leah slowed, resisting almost without thinking. She’d heard the stories about the Wild Ones. The fire was for her. The woman shoved her hard in the back. Leah stumbled forward into the camp.

  A young man with blackened, rotting teeth saw her and stood up. “What ya got there, Titch?”

  Leah straightened herself and stared at the man with a defiance she didn’t really feel.

  “Caught ’er down by the old inn. Figured we could have some fun while the cat’s away.”

  “Aye, not a bad idea.” The black-toothed man stepped forward. “Let’s have a look at ya then.”

  Leah tried to move away, but the man-bear, Titch, was standing right behind her. She backed into him and had to suppress a yelp.

  Black-toothed man grabbed Leah’s chin. His fingers smelled of fish and leather.

  He turned her head left and right, wrinkled his nose. “Hmmm.”

  Leah pulled her chin free of his grip. “There’s no meat on me; I won’t make much of a meal.”

  The man’s lips curled up in a vicious smile. He turned his head and shouted over his shoulder. “You hear that, boys, not much of a meal.”

  A few of the Wild Ones laughed. Another, an old woman with leathery, wrinkled skin, shook her head as though slightly disgusted.

  The man leaned in closer. “We’ll see about that.”

  Leah drove her head forward into his face. It caught him on the jaw, but it was a glancing blow. Leah darted right. She was heading toward another trail that led out of the camp into a patch of woodland. Maybe she could lose the Wild Ones in the trees.

  9

  Leah made it three paces before a truck slammed into her side and sent her sprawling across the ground. The impact twisted her shoulder; tears blurred her vision. When she looked up, the truck, Titch, was towering over her, a smug look on his face. Another ripple of laughter echoed around the camp.

  Titch grabbed Leah and hauled her back to her feet. She gave him a halfhearted kick, but it had no effect. Despair enveloped Leah, and the will to fight drained out of her. Titch dragged her over to one of the shelters and told her to sit down. When she didn’t immediately comply, he tapped her behind her knees with his foot, forcing her to the ground.

  He walked around the side of the shelter, and Leah considered trying to run. Then he returned, towering over her, blocking out the sun. Leah paled at the sight of the wooden mallet in his hand. He swung it lazily in front of her, smiling as she watched it, eyes wide in terror.

  Titch let out a snort of amusement, then pulled out a U-shaped piece of metal. He knelt down beside her. She could smell his furs. They smelled of sweat and wet dogs. He grabbed her hands and pushed them down against the ground. She felt cold metal against her wrists, and then he was raising the mallet above his head. She screamed as he brought it down. There was a metallic thunk. Two more swings, and her hands were pinned to the ground by the metal hoop.

  Titch stood again. He was grinning, reveling in the torment he was inflicting. A sudden burst of anger hit Leah, and she spat at the Wild One. The spittle flew wide. Titch stepped back, his hands raised, face contorted in mock fear. Then he laughed, his immense body quivering with delight.

  When his laughter finally died down, he pointed at her. “Stay.”

  He paused, then turned and walked away, laughing once more.

  Leah pulled tentatively at the hoop holding her in place, but the movement sent a sharp pain up her arms. She stifled a sob.

  She sat, pinned in place, her arms growing numb as the sun arced overhead. The Wild Ones went about their business, moving around the camp, talking, eying her with barely contained excitement.

  The shelter only partially protected her from the sun, and as the temperature rose, Leah found her energy quickly fading. The fear and excitement of the night’s encounters were overwhelming. She grew weary, her head tipping forward and her eyes drifting closed no matter how hard she tried to stay awake.

  Every hour or so, the black-toothed man came by with a cup of water. He’d help Leah drink, pouring it down her eager throat. Still, by the time the sun was heading toward the horizon, Leah felt dizzy and lightheaded.

  When Titch returned, looming up in front of her like some woolly beast, her vision was beginning to blur. Another shape hovered behind Titch, skipping from one foot to the other—the black-toothed man.

  “Hmm,” said Titch, “look like she be getting tired. Better get the fire up, Burg. Don’t want her to be sleepin’ through the fun.”

  The black-toothed man grinned.

  Burg barked an order, and two women went to a pile of wood stacked near the edge of the clearing. They grabbed a couple of handfuls of smaller twigs and took them over to the fire pit. Leah watched with growing horror as the women lined the pit with the twigs.

  A weaselly man with a sly grin and eyes that kept darting left and right, seemingly unable to settle, joined the women at the pit. He removed the spit from the A-frames. Cradling it lovingly in his arms, he walked across the camp. He passed close enough to Leah that she had to duck out of the way to avoid being caught by the point of the metal bar. He sat down in front of the shelter beside Leah’s, pulled a chunk of gray stone from the folds of his furs and began to sharpen the point of the spit.

  Leah turned away, but she could hear the stone scraping across metal.

  Schck.

  Schck.

  Schck.

  The sound of the sharpening stone was like sandpaper on Leah’s nerves. Each pass shaved another layer away until they were a ragged mess. Her heart rate climbed, sweat oozed from clammy hands. She blinked away tears.

  And then the sharpening stopped. The silence was even worse.

  Burg clapped his hands together. “Okay, gather round if you in.”

  A murmur spread through the camp, and several of the Wild Ones moved toward Leah. She shrank back as they formed a tight semicircle around her, blotting out the sunlight. Leah caught sight of the old woman between the legs of two of the men. She had a disapproving scowl on her face, her lips pressed tight.

  Burg muscled his way through the wall around Leah. “Step back; give me space.” The group shuffled about, clearing a small circle in front of Leah.

  Burg reached into his furs and brought out a handful of wooden sticks, each one about two inches long. He handed them out to the crowd. Someone dropped one of the sticks, and Leah saw it was marked with a number—17.

  Once the sticks were distributed, Burg crouched down. His knees crackled. He pulled something else out of his pocket and held it up for the crowd to see. It was a pair of dice. The people nearest Burg nodded in approval.

  “Right,” he said. “We start as traditional. The feet!”

  A cheer rose up from the crowd. Leah’s blood ran cold.

  Burg rattled the dice in his hand and then scattered them across the ground.

  “Twenty-six!” he shouted.

  A young man with a patchy beard let out an enthusiastic “Whoop!”

  “I trade you!” shouted a woman.

  “No trades, you lowfus!” shouted the young
man to more cheers from the crowd.

  “There still be the hands, Maggie,” said Burg, and he rattled and rolled the dice once more. “Sixteen! Who’s got sixteen?”

  After a moment’s confusion, a man held up his stick, earning him cheers and a hug from a girl that looked barely older than Leah.

  Leah blinked away tears as the shouts died down, replaced by cries of which body part should come up for grabs next.

  “Do kneecaps!”

  “No, the ears!”

  “The ’eart! It’s the best bit!”

  “Come on, Burg. Do the ’eart!”

  Leah’s hands shook.

  “Kay-kay,” said Burg. “Settle down. We gonna stick with tradition, likes we should. Calf next.”

  There was a chorus of ooohs, like Burg had just announced some magnificent prize.

  Leah’s tears spilled over, streaming down her face in tiny rivulets as Burg shook the dice again.

  10

  A woman’s voice cut through the air. “Burg!”

  The crowd shifted and then parted. Several of the Wild Ones retreated, darting away.

  A tall, muscular woman with red hair strode through the newly created opening. “You gonna stop that, now,” she said.

  Burg stood and shoved the dice back into the depths of his furs. More people from the back of the crowd slipped away.

  The woman saw Leah and scowled. She pointed at Burg. “Ma say you been teasing this poor girl. Scaring her.”

  “It just for fun, Sanya. No harm.”

  Sanya’s scowl deepened. “You too old for this type of fun.”

  Sanya knelt down beside Leah and smiled. Her eyes were a deep blue, almost violet. She gently rested her fingertips on Leah’s cheek and wiped away a tear with her thumb.

  “Oh, girl,” she said. “You not listen to these wutz. We not gonna eatcha.”

  Even as relief flooded her body, Leah felt doubt nibbling at the back of her mind. Was this part of their ‘game’?”

  Sanya removed a knife from her belt. Leah tried to pull away.

  “Shush now, girl.”

  Sanya leaned around Leah and cut the bindings around her wrists, freeing them from the metal hoop. Leah’s arms were numb from being tied behind her for so long, and as she moved them fresh waves of pain rolled along them, making her flinch. Trying to ignore the pain, she rubbed the area where the vine had cut into her skin. Sanya tutted, moved Leah’s hands aside and began massaging her wrists. Her fingers were rough and calloused, but her touch was tender.

  Sanya helped Leah stand, then turned to face the crowd. She flicked her hands toward them, shooing them away. “You get back to what you supposed to do. Go on!”

  “Chits first,” said Burg.

  One by one the crowd filed past Burg, dropping their chits into his outstretched hand. The weaselly man leered at Leah as he passed. Eyes blazing, Sanya backhanded him across the shoulder.

  Once the last person had handed in their chit, Burg turned to follow them, but Sanya gripped his shoulder. “Give ‘em.”

  Burg gave an overdramatic sigh and then pulled the dice out of his pocket. He gave Sanya a hopeful look, but she just raised an eyebrow and held out her hand. Burg dropped the dice into it and walked quickly away.

  “You look hungry,” said Sanya.

  Without waiting for Leah’s reply, Sanya took her arm and led her across the camp to a shelter. Leah’s backpack was on the ground nearby, beside a wooden bench.

  The old woman was waiting for them, holding a metal plate with a modest pile of bite-sized chunks of meat on it. Steam drifted up from the food, and Leah recognized the smell of rabbit.

  The old woman picked up a chunk of the rabbit in gnarled fingers and mimed an eating motion. Leah’s mouth watered, and her stomach gurgled softly.

  Sanya chuckled. “Help yourself, girl.”

  When Leah didn’t move, the old woman mimed eating again.

  “You insulting her if ya don’t eat,” said Sanya.

  The woman offered Leah the chunk of meat. Leah took it and popped it into her mouth. Rich juices tinged with a hint of spice broke over her tongue.

  Leah let out a soft moan, and the old woman broke into a broad grin revealing twisted, ragged teeth. The woman snatched another piece of the meat and held it out to Leah.

  “Give her the plate, Ma. She ain’t no baby,” said Sanya.

  The old woman gave Sanya a look that suggested she didn’t quite agree with that assessment and then handed Leah the plate.

  The smell of the meat hit Leah, and she stifled a groan of pleasure. “Thank you.”

  The woman gave her a satisfied nod, then gestured for Leah to sit down on the wooden bench. Leah declined the offer until the woman placed one grease-stained hand on her shoulder and, with surprising strength, pressed down until she sat.

  Sanya retrieved a small wooden stool for herself. The old woman joined Leah on the bench. She sat uncomfortably close. When Leah stole a glance at her, she was staring at her with a broad smile on her face. Trying to ignore the old woman, Leah popped another piece of rabbit into her mouth. Again the spices burst across her tongue. This time, she managed to suppress the groan of pleasure.

  Sanya smiled anyway. “What should I call you?”

  “Leah.”

  Sanya nodded appreciatively. “A healthy name. I’m Sanya.” She gestured toward the old woman who was still staring at Leah. “That’s Ma.”

  Leah smiled and picked up another piece of meat. “Thanks for saving me.”

  Ma tutted.

  “Ah, it weren’t a save. You in no danger here unless you Transport, and you ain’t Transport. You from the City?” It was a question, but the way Sanya spoke suggested she already knew the answer.

  “How did you know?” said Leah.

  Sanya shrugged. “I know things.”

  Ma snorted, and Leah had to stifle a smile.

  A dark look came over Sanya. Leah felt her fear returning. Then Sanya’s mouth curled into a slight smile. “You survive the big kaboom, then?”

  “Y-yes,” said Leah.

  Sanya stuck her bottom lip out. “You lucky, girl.”

  Leah nodded, hoping for a change of subject.

  Sanya swept her arms around taking in the wilderness around them. “So whatcha doing out here?”

  Leah chewed her lip. The Wild Ones had been a constant threat when she scavenged. If even half the stories she’d heard about them were true, then they were a violent, misogynistic people with a penchant for cannibalism.

  But Sanya had said they weren’t going to eat her. More than that, she was kind, and although Ma was a little creepy, she seemed harmless. There were dozens of Wild One clans; maybe this was one of the good ones. And if they were, maybe they could tell Leah where Oakdale was.

  “I’m looking for someone. She’s responsible for the… the big kaboom.”

  Sanya pressed her lips together and regarded Leah with an icy stare. “Why you looking for her? You looking for revenge, girl?”

  Leah didn’t respond.

  “Revenge always disappoints,” said Sanya.

  “I don’t care,” said Leah as she straightened her back.

  Ma tutted.

  Ignoring the old woman, Leah said, “Will you help me find her?”

  “She Transport?”

  “Yes.”

  The moment Sanya started shaking her head, Leah’s anger rose up inside her. “Please, I need to—”

  “I can’t help you,” said Sanya.

  “But—”

  Sanya held up a hand. “We doesn’t poke the hornet’s nest.”

  “Can you at least tell me how to get to Oakdale? I think that’s where they’re going.”

  Ma grabbed Leah’s arm. It startled her and she pulled away, but the woman’s grip was like iron. Ma shook her head at Leah. Leah pulled her arm again, and this time, Ma released her.

  “Oakdale not a place for you,” said Sanya. “There is too much danger. Many Transport guards. And they will
kill you when they catch you. Maybe even eat you.”

  Sanya tried to smile, but her eyes were solemn.

  Leah bit down on another outburst. Her position still felt very precarious. She couldn’t risk angering these people; they might be friendly now, but that didn’t mean they’d stay friendly.

  The air was beginning to cool, the growing darkness leeching away the day’s heat. Leah shivered.

  “You should stay here,” said Sanya. “Sleep for tonight.”

  Leah almost protested. But now she was sitting down, she could feel stiffness setting in. Her right ankle ached. Leah nodded.

  Sanya smiled. “Finish ya food. Then sleep.”

  Leah worked through the rest of the meat as quickly as she could. By the time she was finished, her stomach was full to bursting, and her hands were covered in fragrant grease.

  As soon as Leah had swallowed the last chunk of rabbit, Ma got to her feet, groaning as her joints cracked. She tugged Leah’s arm until she stood too.

  “We have an empty bed,” said Sanya, pointing across the clearing toward one of the shelters.

  “Thank you.”

  Ma picked up Leah’s pack. She pushed it against Leah’s chest until she took it. Then Ma slipped her arm through Leah’s. With Sanya close behind, the old woman marched her across the clearing to a pair of shelters built a couple of feet apart. Ma pointed to the left shelter and tapped Leah’s chest.

  Leah smiled and nodded to show she understood. Ma finally let go of Leah’s arm but only so that she could usher Leah toward the shelter. Leah knelt and peered into the triangular structure. At first glance, it looked occupied. A mound of thick gray furs took up most of the floor space. Leah wouldn’t have been surprised if Titch had poked his face out of the pile.

  “You safe, it won’t bite-cha,” said Sanya, amusement in her voice.

  Leah smiled hesitantly, then crawled into the shelter. It was a bit cramped, but she managed to twist around and pull some of the fur on top of herself.