by Keri Lake
“This place … it’s as they described in Calico.” The wonderment in her voice makes me forget how strange Szolen is for those who’ve never been inside its walls.
I try to look past my resentment and see this world through the perspective of a newcomer. How the lights of the main strip give a soft, ambient glow in the darkness. The conveniences of stores lined along a paved street, stocked with food and supplies, the likes of which aren’t found out in the desert. The careful and attentive landscaping that gives Szolen the illusion of paradise, of a world that existed long before the Dredge decimated it all.
I try to appreciate these things as magnificent creations, an inspiring example of what man can accomplish in the thick of disaster. But all I see is the charade. The hum of power and greed that vibrates beneath the very foundations that serve as salvation to the people who live here. The ones who’d never survive out in the Deadlands.
“It’s dangerous to get too caught up in it. You begin to lose sight of reality.”
“I’ve seen reality. It isn’t pretty. In fact, it’s downright ugly.”
“It is. But it’s the only truth you’ll come to know in this world, Cali. Hang on to what you suffered, because those experiences are what set you apart from the people here.”
The promised movie theater stands with its marquee advertising Back To The Future and Terminator. Movies from the past, I guess.
“You don’t care for them, do you?”
“Some, yes. There are wonderful people who live within these walls. And some of the most evil you’ll ever know.” I twist to see Legion officers trailing our steps, keeping their distance as they casually stroll along, guns strapped across their chests.
“This is where the doctors from Calico live.”
“Their families, mostly. But this is what they kill to defend. Their precious community, untainted by the infected.”
It takes a good twenty minutes to reach Papa’s old house, which stands untouched. Unlived in. As I open the door, a curtain of familiarity and home hits me, suffocating the disdain I feel for this place. It reminds me so much of Six, and Papa, who I miss more and more with each passing day.
“Your father was a doctor?” Eyes skimming over the room, Cali seems to throw my arguments back in my face, as she stands before a shelf of tinctures. Or, at least, that’s how my bitter mind translates her words. “He was one of them at Calico, right?”
“He wasn’t one of them, at all. And he wasn’t my real father. He took me in and raised me as his own. Against their rules, against their beliefs, against everything.”
“What happened to him?”
“He was bitten while trying to save me.” Striding up beside her, I gather a few of the tinctures, packing them in a nearby satchel, in case Heseya finds them useful. “He managed to keep the illness at bay, but it eventually consumed him. So he took his own life.” Even after all this time, I have to blink away the urge of tears and breathe past the ache in my chest. “He used to tell me that safety was nothing but an illusion.”
“He’s right. I thought I’d found it with Valdys out there. Paradise, we were certain of it. There is no paradise in hell, though.”
For a young girl, I find her to be wiser than most her age. As if she’s lived through more. But then, the young girls I grew up with came from this place, blinded by falsehoods.
“Your father saved you at the juniper tree, right? That’s where they say you were attacked by Ragers.”
I mentally rewind myself to the night when Papa injected me with the Alpha pheromones to keep the Ragers away. It worked, up until its effects wore off. “He did.” It’s also where I watched them feed on the remains of the baby I lost there. “Guards will be here any minute. We need to find supplies now and store them for later this evening.”
“How will you get past the guards without them seeing you?”
The question brings a smile to my face. “It’s been a while since I’ve snuck out of this house, but I’ve certainly not forgotten how.”
Chapter 16
Cali
The sweet taste of fig dances across my tongue as I lick what remains of the jam from my spoon. “It’s been so long since I’ve tasted figs. I’ve forgotten how delicious they are!”
“I must’ve prepared a dozen jars, the summer before Papa died.” Wren sits a glass of water on the table, but instead of returning to the open cupboard, from where she’d been packing jars into a bag, she opts for the two mugs below it, placing two filters filled with dried coffee over the mouths of them. Nothing like the crap we got back at Calico. This stuff smells fresh, rich, and waters my mouth. She holds an eyedropper over the grounds and allows a few drops to fall into each, before pouring the steaming water she boiled earlier over it.
Outside the house, the voices of the Legion officers can be heard laughing and talking, as they half-heartedly stand guard.
“They almost sound kind, don’t they?” I ask, trading my spoon for the glass of proffered water.
“Almost. I’ve never met one I’d describe as such, though.”
“Me, neither.” I jerk my head toward the mugs. “What is it?”
“Something that will make them sleep a while. Derived from poppies. Papa would give this before some emergency surgical procedures. They’ll awake thinking they fell asleep on the job.”
I chuckle, imagining how angry they’ll be when they do. “Clever.”
“When you’ve been evading them most of your life, you come up with clever schemes.”
Steam rises up from each mug as she gathers them from the counter and crosses the room, then heads out of the kitchen. Finishing off the last of my water, I look around the small space that holds similar props to the kitchen back at Calico where I worked: the stove, though this one is significantly smaller, the sink and counters and dishes. We once lived in a place while roaming the Deadlands that had all these props, as well, but none that actually functioned.
This place is strange, but unlike Wren, I find it intriguing. If not for Legion officers and the doctors I’d risk running into here, it’s a place I’d like to stay. One where I could raise a family with Valdys, without risk of being snatched up by marauders, or attacked by hordes of Ragers. However illusory that may seem, the fact is, I’ve lived hard my entire life. From birth. It’d be nice to simply enjoy what’s left of my time.
Wren reappears, her face emotionless as she returns to her packing. I’d have laughed uncontrollably, if I’d been tasked to offer the mugs, knowing what misfortune awaits them.
“What now?” I ask, feeling somewhat useless and antsy.
“Now we wait. Takes about ten minutes for the poppies to kick in. Once they’ve passed out, we’ll be sure to move them out of sight, but prop them up, so it’s like they fell asleep that way.”
“And how will we get the others inside?”
Wren smiles over her shoulder, stuffing another jar into the sack. “Silly girl, haven’t you learned to trust me yet?” She rifles through a drawer and pulls out a sharp blade, twisting it in front of her, before she shoves it inside her bag.
Lowering my gaze, I crack a smile and nod. “Of course. You already have it figured out.”
With the soldier’s legs stuffed beneath my armpits, I hobble along, struggling to hold my grip, as Wren and I carry him across the porch and lean him up against the wall of the house. She takes a moment to prop one of his legs, giving the appearance that he casually fell asleep while on watch.
By the time we’re finished, I’m out of breath.
“Okay, let’s go.” She takes the lead, down the front porch, and keeps to the shadows as she crosses the yard. “We’ll stay off the main road where Legion patrols,” she whispers.
The moon is high in the sky by the time we reach a fence of some sort, where a sign hangs from it.
“Do not touch the wires, unless you like your insides extra charred.” Wren places a stick between them, lifting one high enough to climb through. Her comment brings to mind t
he soldier I saw cooking on a spit back at the marauder camp, where Neela, Cadmus and I were captured after we escaped Calico. The soldier, I’m certain, was still breathing when they strung him up.
The thought of him stirs a shiver as I step through.
Once on the other side of the fence, I twist around and hold the stick for her, as well, waiting for her to climb through.
“You’ve done this before, I take it.” Tossing the stick to the ground, I trail her footsteps into the dark woods ahead of us.
“I have. When I first met Rhys, he was a prisoner of Calico, nothing but a broken shell of a boy. Battered and scarred. He couldn’t even speak, after all the atrocities he suffered. I snuck out with some rope and helped him escape that place.”
“He was in Alpha project.” It’s not a question. It’s clear from the unnatural size and build of his body that he’s been subject to the same treatment as Valdys, Cadmus and Titus. No one in the desert is built that way, not when food is scarce. “How long?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe a couple years? He doesn’t talk about it often.” She glances back at me, before climbing over a fallen tree branch. “You and the two Alphas …. What’s your story?”
There’s an inexplicable twinge of hesitation in telling her. Part of me likes the curiosities we invite with our unconventional companionship. It tends to make others keep their distance. “We’re friends.”
“Friends? From what I’ve learned of Alphas, they tend to be aggressive.” She pauses midstride and swings around, and I get the sense she wants this conversation had before we reach our destination. “Sexually so.”
My defenses flare with her accusation. The last two months of traveling with these men, who’ve done nothing but look after me, is something I’ll be grateful for long after we find Valdys. In that time, the only aggression they’ve shown is toward each other. “Whoever supplied you with that information knows nothing about Alphas. I’m certain you would’ve given caution otherwise.”
The corner of her lip quirks. “You’re right. I gave little care to the warnings when it came to Six. But he was a boy then. Not a full grown man. Their needs differ greatly.”
“They respect me.”
“Why? What purpose do you serve for them?” She looks around the forest. “It seems they could get what they seek from any one of the hives, without having to share. Easily taking what they want.”
She’s right. They could’ve easily stayed behind and had their fill of women, who’d have fallen at their feet for the protection they could provide in these harsh lands. Some did proposition them, in fact, which only proves my point about them. “Why do you make them out to be monsters? Sex-depraved villains? These men have nearly lost their lives for me over the last two months.”
“I’m sorry. I meant no disrespect.” She holds out a hand and offers a slight smile. “Friends?”
Still wary of her, I reach to shake her hand.
“When I heard about a young girl traveling with two Alphas, I thought you might’ve been in trouble. I would’ve taken the opportunity to rid you of them now, by ensuring they never made it over that wall. Offered escape, if you needed it.”
“I appreciate your concern, but those two men are the only thing I have in the world. The only people I trust.”
“Then, let’s get them on this side of the wall.” Taking the lead once again, she ventures deeper into the woods, while I trail her steps, until we arrive at a wall that nearly reaches the treetops in height.
I watch as she climbs a nearby tree with the ease of someone who’s done it a million times before. “You’re not what I expected, I have to admit.”
“Neither are you,” she says, a little out of breath.
Choosing the same footing, I shadow her climb, willing myself not to look down as we ascend toward the leafy canopy. Once high enough, she ties off one end of the rope around a particularly thick overhanging branch, and tosses the other end over the wall. The end of the branch dips, and in no more than a minute, Cadmus appears over the top of the wall. The sight of him puts me at ease. Not that I worried for him, but in this strange place, it’s a relief to see a familiar face. Behind him, Brandon climbs over, far more winded, and clings to the branch when his eyes undoubtedly catch sight of the height.
Feeling useless, I make my way back down the tree, and at about ten feet, leap to the ground. Cadmus follows after, then Brandon. As though he’s searching for evidence of someone having harmed me, Cadmus takes a moment to look me over, his gaze roving in silent appraisal. It takes a good ten, or fifteen, minutes for all the males to climb over, with Six being the last. Once everyone is on the ground, Wren offers a couple of jars of water she packed from the house. “The trees will provide some cover. From here, we’ll head straight to Gregor’s.”
By my estimates, it’s about ten o’clock at night, if the moon’s position in the sky is any indicator. I recall the night I lay beneath the stars with Valdys, and he told me the light we see is the sun’s reflection on its surface. How strange, the way it mirrors my thoughts about him now. How the warmth of my memories has been like the sun on my face in this pitch black world.
I rub my hands together in my lap, nervous for the upcoming days, when I’ll finally be reunited with Valdys. I’ve spent weeks wondering if I’ll recognize him. If he’ll smell the same. Feel the same. Be the same man I knew before they took him away from me.
If I close my eyes, I can almost feel Valdys’s arms wrapped around me, the tickle of his chest hair brushing over my cheek.
My body aches for him, and the sooner we get to those tunnels, the sooner my heart will be full again.
Chapter 17
Wren
Gregor McCann is a genius, the kind one should approach with caution, because a man holding as much knowledge as he does isn’t easily duped. As I make my way up the staircase of his front porch, my heart is in my throat. From what I remember of him, he rarely spoke, and when he did, it was with far more sarcasm than Papa.
He often reminisced of the old days, when he smoked pot more hours out of the day than not, and somehow still maintained a perfect record where he attended school. That was back when school was a necessity in life, a means of getting ahead. Nowadays, it’s reserved for those who might have some interest in activities other than becoming the next Legion soldier, or Daughter. Sucking in a breath, I raise my hand and knock on the door. Lights inside tell me Gregor is still awake, though it’s hard to say what state he’s in. Over the years, it seems he traded marijuana for alcohol, and indulged in it freely back when Papa looked after him.
Or his liver, rather.
The door swings open on a man slightly taller than me, and slim, with more gray hair than the last time I saw him. He squints his eyes, and lifts the pair of spectacles hanging from a thin chain around his neck. “Wren? Is that you?”
“Yeah. How are you, Gregor?”
“Is everything all right? What are you doing here?”
“I need your help.” I glance to the side, where Six and the others hide in the bushes, and jerk my head for them to make themselves known. The moment they step into view, Gregor’s eyes go wide, brow furrowed.
“What is this?”
“We need to talk.”
“Who are these people?”
“Friends of mine. I promise they mean you no harm.”
“Then, why are they hiding in the bushes?” Still wearing a dubious frown, he scratches his cheek.
“Because, unfortunately, Legion means to do them harm.”
Perhaps it’s only out of trust for Papa and the friendship they shared that he gives a nod and steps aside, allowing us entry into his home. Could also be that he never really had a healthy respect for authority, and often complained of Legion.
As a Phase Three model, his home is far more opulent than Papa’s house, which would be considered more of a shack by comparison. The unique details inside--vaulted ceilings with windows and irregularly-shaped design—tell me he was the archi
tect of this one.
He leads the group through a door off the living room, to a study, judging by the bookshelves and a desk, arranged in front of a large picture window at the opposite side of the door where we stand.
“What’s, uh …. What’s going on, Wren?” He doesn’t talk like a sixty-some year old man, but like a hippy who never really embraced age. Young and spunky.
“I’m not going to beat around the bush. We don’t have time for that, so I’ll get straight to the point. I need to know how to open the doors to Calico.”
Spinning around, he clears his throat and scans the room. “Hang on … ah, here it is.” He crosses the room, coming to a stop in front of a liquor cabinet, from where he removes a decanter and pours amber fluid into a glass. “Anyone else need a drink?” Tipping it back, he doesn’t let a drop go to waste before filling the glass again. “Sorry, I just …. I thought I heard you say you wanted to break into Calico.”
“I did.”
Again, he tips back the drink, this time squinting as though the taste of it is more bitter than the last one. “Wren, I … give you a lot of credit for being intelligent. Hell, half the girls here can’t read. But I have to tell you, that is the dumbest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
“Perhaps.” A quick glance over my shoulder shows Six standing in the corner, and I try not to look smug. “But it’s a necessity.”
“Lets just start with the logistics first. If I knew how to get inside, the conditions in that place would probably be dangerously toxic. I mean, the gasses given off by some of the tanks in the lab have probably displaced most of the oxygen in there at this point.” He pours another glass, tipping it back a third time, and I watch the bob of his throat when he swallows. “Then let’s just take that factor out all together. You have shit under pressure, just waiting to explode. One bullet. One accidental bump, and kaboom! The whole fucking place goes up in flames. But we won’t even think about that yet. Because the biggest fucking issue is the mutations. Monsters the likes of which you’ve never seen before. Who haven’t eaten in weeks. Sure, the carcasses have provided nourishment, but by now, they’re probably nothing but bones, licked clean.” He rubs a hand down his face and shakes his head. “So, I’ll ask you … have you lost your fucking mind?”