by A. S. Hames
“Okay, Ben, the way it looks, we have to get fifty miles north-west of here to a place called William’s Gathering.”
“Fifty miles?”
“To William’s Gathering, yes. And there doesn’t appear to be any railroad.”
“You mean we walk?”
“Me, you, and the mutt, yes.”
Von yawns.
“After William’s Gathering , we have to travel another 150 miles west, across the top of Freedom Country, and that’s it – we’re back in Nation territory without going near the Front.”
“That’s a lot of walking.” Ben’s frowning at me. I try to ignore it.
“Then it’s a matter of getting to Pinedale.”
“What about Forbearance?”
I check the map.
“That’s another journey over the mountains.”
“It won’t be Nation land anymore, will it.”
“No.”
“Do you think it’ll be a peaceful change?”
“I don’t see it that way. I think the new ways will hurt us.”
“Me too.”
“We just have to do what’s best. We’ve fought our war and now I need to find my Ma.”
We walk northwest for a mile or two and I tell Ben everything I learned about the Leader, his family, and the fact I killed him… and that Jay-Ruth Ravenscroft is my East State name.
“What about if you marry?” he asks. “Would you take a number to replace it?”
“I don’t know.”
I realize – if I do marry, I’ll never know him as my man. He’ll be in the far valleys, married again. He’ll have children and he’ll grow old there. He’ll die one day and they’ll bury him in a little cemetery with shady trees, and I’ll never know him or anything about his life. Right now, I feel like holding him and never letting go.
BEN
The morning is blue and bright when I wake up. I count myself lucky to still be here and I hope that one day I’ll be able to teach my children the truth of what goes on in the world. At least, the truth I know of. I think there will always be hidden truths, because – this I know for certain – it’s humankind’s nature to deal in lies and secrets just as much as love and peace and honesty.
There’s a groan from a girl curled up next to a wolf.
“You awake, Jay?”
Von looks up and yawns.
Jay yawns too. She looks so tired still.
Even so, we’re soon up and continuing the fifty-mile walk to William’s Gathering. The air north-west of Libertyville is noticeably cooler than down south. It’s what I’d consider warm if I were home, but after the heat of the Empty Valley and the Lake Country trail, it’s no great challenge.
Thanks to the terrain, it’s a tough walk, although Von seems happy. I reckon he could walk to the moon and back. There are no incidents, thank God. No redcoats, no rebels, no buffs, or charcoals. The weather is good and we manage a little hunting: a fowl and some kind of squirrel, along with fruit, berries, ants, worms, and grubs. Jay’s wounds aren’t as bad as we thought. Painful, yes, but her arms weren’t broken. The bullet only took off a little muscle and flesh, which tortures her every so often, but we keep the wound clean.
We take three days to get to William’s Gathering and here we find a band of buffs. We don’t get involved. We just bide our time until night falls and we can steal an East State army car and head west to Spire in moonlight. We only get halfway though, before something bad happens under the hood. Jay can’t fix it, so we take the army pistol that was in the car and take on another three-day hike.
At an abandoned settlement, there’s a broken down tractor, only this is something Jay can fix by simply re-attaching the fuel line. I reckon some fool tried to start it up, smelled fuel, and thought they’d be burned alive. It’s not a comfortable ride though, and we only get thirty or so miles before there’s no more fuel for that re-attached line.
We walk. For many miles. I don’t mind though because I’m feeling stronger, and Jay’s wounds are healing well.
The landscape changes. It is so rich and varied. It’s more alive here than in Lake Country.
“I can smell pine,” Jay says.
Yes, pine. There’s something about the northern air. It carries a scent so sweet and pungent. Von smells it too, more fully than me. He’s taking in great big snorts of it. I think he’s enjoying it.
JAY
We continue walking until we reach a creek. There’s a huge log laid across it for an easy crossing toward a forest. But we don’t need to go that way. Our path bends round to the left, downward and away from the thick green pine. So we take a drink and start off again.
Von doesn’t move. He stands there like a proud statue, one befitting a Hero of the Nation, even if the Nation doesn’t deserve him.
“Come on, Von, we’re not going that way.”
He’s staring at me. Von is not coming.
I look to the pine forest over the log bridge. He’s from there. I know he is. The sense I get from him is overwhelming. It’s not just the pine he’s been sniffing. It’s his own kind. He doesn’t move and I feel my stomach tighten. This is last I’ll ever see of my friend and protector.
I turn and look down the path. Ben is striding on, twenty yards ahead and unaware of this new development. I turn back to Von, but he’s no longer there.
“Von…”
I jog down the path to catch up with Ben. I try to tell him about Von, but I can’t find the words. Then it doesn’t matter because he turns and calls out.
“Von?” He waits a moment then tries again. “Von? Come on, you big dope!”
“Von’s gone home,” I say.
“Home?”
I’m guessing he wants more information than that, but I’m already heading down the path with a huge hole in me. Ben catches up but he doesn’t say anything. I know he’s feeling the same pain and I’m glad he’s able to keep it in. I’ll be able to keep it in too, as long as I don’t have to talk about it.
It’s an hour before we speak again. An hour of making steady progress out of the wilderness until we see signs of human habitation once more. It’s a group of dwellings by a creek.
They have a barn. With dusk not far off, that would be just great for a comfortable night – so we go to find the owner. At the first house we try, Ben gives me a nudge.
“Leave this to me,” he says.
So I stand back while he goes to the door. A woman answers his knocking and Ben gets through the preliminaries of explaining how we’re traveling to see family and that we need somewhere to stay overnight. I almost choke when Ben says, “Obviously we’re husband and wife.”
“Are you sure?” the woman asks. “Only you seem a little young.”
“Of course I’m sure,” Ben says. “What kind of people do you think we are?”
“Pardon me, I’m sure,” the woman says as she stands back to let us in. “I can’t have your wife sleep in the drafty barn. We have a word hereabouts. It’s called hospitality.”
I’m a little uncertain of what has just happened. This doesn’t look like the best way to get a good night in the barn. All the same, I thank the woman for her kindness.
She feeds us some bread and cheese and we get to wash. We don’t tell her much beyond Ben’s story of living in the valleys farther west of here. Then we’re shown up the stairs.
I know the minute I stand in the open door and see the double bed, I won’t be staying.
“I’ll leave you to it,” the woman says.
The door closes and there’s a feeling in the room. An uncomfortable one. At least on my part.
“We need a good rest,” Ben says, and I realize that I am staying after all.
“Will you marry again soon?” I ask.
Ben sits on the edge of the bed and gives me a tired, sad smile.
“I have to,” he says. “I’m of age.”
Ridiculous! His people must be ignorant savages. Eighteen is the right age to marry, not seventeen as he is, o
r sixteen as he was when he married Kim. Of course, I’ll be seventeen in a day or so…
“I need to sleep,” I say. I climb under the covers, fully dressed, facing away from him.
“I told you, none of it’s my choice,” he says. “These things are arranged to protect whole families.”
My eyes are shut and I am willing sleep to claim me. I briefly wonder what it would be like to hold his body against mine, but I block it out. It’s not easy, just as it’s not easy to block out thoughts of losing Von. Sometimes, it’s hard to see the good in life.
Then I feel him get under the covers and I tense up.
“If it helps,” he says, “we aren’t man and wife.”
I don’t answer. I just lay there as still as can be. Of course, if I could choose a husband, Ben would be the one. Then he farts in the bed, which I find completely unacceptable.
Next day, Ben catches some fish, which he hands to the woman as payment – although we eat some of it with her at breakfast. In fact, she even gives me a clean shirt to replace my blackened bloodied tatters. Then we work out it’s my birthday, so she insists we all drink lemonade.
Then we’re on our way again, much rested.
We walk all day, and stop by a river for the night. It’s cold, so we sleep together again – for warmth. Only, there’s a moment – the longest, heart-thumping, blood-pulsing moment – where we kiss and know, really know, what’s going to happen. And soon he’s on top of me and I’m feeling his weight and I don’t even know if we’re doing it right, but I cannot loosen my grip on him, ever, because this is the whole world to me.
20. Home
JAY
The following day, we smile at each other a lot, but as much in sadness as in joy. That’s because Ben has it in his head he’s in familiar territory. Especially when we reach a crossroads and he says he cannot go any farther west. He must head north now, into the valleys. I don’t know what to say, even though I’m brim full of anxiety and questions I already know the answers to. My instinct is that it’s wrong for us to part. And so I sense him… and there’s his radiance reaching out to me, strong and true.
“Ben, if you came to Forbearance…”
“I wish I could, but some of the old won’t make it through the winter if there are no young to help.”
My entire body seems to catch fire from within. I cannot marry anyone who isn’t my Ben. He smiles as if he understands the situation.
“I wish the world was different,” he says.
We hug in a simple farewell, but we’re soon holding on like there’s no more time left in the sun and the moon, as if the universe will end when we let go. I don’t know what it is to fall in love really, but I’m guessing this must be it, because I never, ever want to lose this feeling.
But he pulls away.
“We’ve seen some things, haven’t we?” he says.
I nod. “I might write it all down in a journal someday.”
“You’d make a good writer, Jay. You’re honest. The most honest person I’ve ever met.”
He grants me one final smile and he turns. And he’s off up the track that leads to his valleys and his home. I want to call after him, to say something, but I don’t know what.
And so I stare at him leaving me. And I vow, I vow that if he looks back, I will run after him and live in his valleys and fight off all potential wives and marry him and have ten children and teach them all to read and write, and show them how the stars are set out in the night sky, and how…
But he doesn’t look back and all too soon the first of the trees welcomes back a returning son. Ben has gone. And now I can cry. And I do. Like the big dumb baby I am.
And as I resume my own path, I feel a pain like no other I have ever borne. It’s like my soul has been torn apart. I care about Ben like no one I will ever care about again. But now I have to leave everything behind. There’s just me now, a girl heading for home. And as the highlands deliver me up and over them to the vast coastal plain, I can finally think about Ma and the farm and what trials await me there.
It takes three days to reach where I’m going, and I have to dodge truckloads of East State soldiers along the way. Even when I get to Forbearance, I have to sneak in. There’s no parade for me. No flag-waving or songs with cider. Only a few dozen buffs setting up a first camp and a line of twelve bodies hanging dead from a makeshift gallows. I study them. It’s all the town officials, including the Guardian and his clerk. My only regret is that Mr Nine-Zero isn’t among them.
I need to get my thoughts straight. The East State will be suspicious of anyone who fought for the Nation. Thing is, here in Forbearance, there will be hardly any returning from the war, so I might stand out. It’s probably best if I get to our farm and stay there. No need to go into town and have people gawp at me and point me out to the enemy for a few cents reward. I’ll be okay at home. No one ever comes out there. They won’t even know I’ve returned.
Home!
I take a longer route that gets me to our place without anyone seeing me. And there it is – my home. It’s strange to look on it through eyes that have seen so many disasters befall the homes of others.
I reach the kitchen window. There’s flour on the mixing board. Someone’s baking. I hear someone coming down the stairs.
Ma?
It’s Mr Nine-Zero! He’s in our kitchen and he’s taking a small loaf of bread out of the oven – our oven. He’s actually using our kitchen as his own. And he has new shoes again. I’ve been to hell and back while he’s been choosing new shoes.
“You!” he shrieks. He’s seen me at the window. Well, I don’t care. I’m not scared of him and his damned paperwork.
And now he’s coming out and confronting me with a knife.
I tell him – “This isn’t your farm.” My gaze doesn’t waver.
“Do you know who I am?” he says.
“I know you’re best of friends with the Leader of the Nation. Unfortunately, he won’t be taking your radio calls anymore due to me killing him stone dead.”
Mr Nine-Zero looks at me as if I’m mad. I can see he’s not sure what to do. Maybe he can see the gun under my shirt with the handle poking out. I won’t mention I’m out of bullets.
“Everything has changed,” he says. “I assume you know your status as a rebel soldier is a dangerous one?”
But all plans are thrown into confusion because we both hear a motor vehicle approaching. There’s only one of us looking comfortable about it because we both know that any vehicle in Forbearance right now will be on official business, and that’s to Mr Nine-Zero’s advantage.
“You may as well run,” he says. “Or you can stand there. Either way, you’re as good as dead.”
There’s no time to think. No time for anything. But I must think! Fear is the enemy. Think straight, act fast. So, even as he’s grinning at me, I grab the knife off him and stick it in his throat. His laughter turns to gurgling and his eyes behold me with confusion.
“I’m sorry,” I say, pulling the knife out. “I’m not really a killer.”
He’s choking so I lay him down and drag him thirty feet to a straw pile to hide him. It’s not good to watch people die but I am in a state of near panic because the car’s brakes are squealing to a halt.
“Please hurry up and go,” I say to Mr Nine-Zero.
He just seems to be clinging on to life while the car door is creaking open and thumping closed again. I hear voices, so I clamp my hand over his nose and mouth. Impossibly, he continues fighting for breath – through the neck wound! I am about to be caught in the act of murder, so I grab handfuls of straw and shove them hard into Mr Nine-Zero’s mouth and into the hole in his neck. Then I dump a whole load of the stuff over him and my weapons, and I pray to God to help me just one more time.
“Hey, you! Who are you?”
It’s a buff. An East State captain, by the look of it. And he has two troopers as well as a driver.
“Jay-Ruth Two-Five, sir,” I say, moving a few
feet away from the straw. “This is my father’s farm.”
He’s approaching with the confidence of a winner.
“Where is your father?”
“He died in the war, sir. I’ve taken over from him.”
He’s right in front of me now, weighing me to see what I am. I must look hot, dirty, and sweaty – but I’m a farm worker. Hot, dirty, and sweaty is normal.
“Do you know who I am?” he says.
“An officer of the East State, sir?”
His eyes scan the farm buildings, the land, me. “The paperwork is at the town hall, I presume?”
I realize I have to get to the town hall and destroy Mr Nine-Zero’s papers, and my army papers, and maybe burn the building down.
“Yes sir,” I say, vowing that this will remain my family’s farm whatever it takes, regardless of whatever fate befell Ma. “Would you like to try some fresh bread? I’ve just baked some.”
“I don’t have time,” he says. He looks me up and down again. “How old are you, Two-Five?”
“I recently turned seventeen, sir.”
“In a few short weeks, you’ll join the army,” he says. “You’ll fight for the glory of the East State against the North. How does that sound?”
“I don’t know, sir. I’m meant to be training as a teacher.”
“You’ll be a soldier soon enough.”
“Yes sir,” I say, dutifully.
“I expect loyalty and all the other attributes of a soldier. Do you understand?”
“Yes sir, I understand.”
“Very well then.”
He makes some notes and then heads back to his car with his men. The driver opens the door for his captain and they’re done with our farm for now. As the car pulls away, I watch the dust trailing behind it.
War.
And all its deeds.
I don’t need to be told it’s coming again. It’s in the air. I can feel it.
To be continued…
Keep scrolling for an excerpt from the next installment:
ICE IN THE SOUL (Rise of the Empaths: Book 3)