The Gatherer Series, Book 1

by Colleen Winter

  She slowed at the first cabin, closed up for the season on a brief patch of open shore. Curtains were pulled across the windows and water ran through empty boat houses. At a narrower, swifter section, an aluminum fishing boat was anchored in an eddy, hidden until it was too late to flee. A weathered, stooped man sat as motionless as the rod he held over the water. She got no response as she nodded to him, and hoped his extended scrutiny was admiration of the boat rather than confirming she was the woman those men had been looking for.

  She was feeling faint by the time they were out of sight, and would have found a place to stop, maybe eased the fatigue in her shoulders from hours of driving, but the man’s scrutiny renewed her sense of threat.

  When darkness was almost full, a long bend opened into the mouth of the river. The familiar outline of the hills formed a dark border around the open water, the peaks silhouetted by the last rays of light fading from the sky. The rippled water reflected the faded yellow light, so that it formed a plate of dimpled steel, its outline cut against the forest that rose upwards. On the far shore, the large smear of Rima formed a glowing band between the water and the mass of the mountains.

  At one time the lights would have been reassuring, promising a place of rest and the comfort of arriving home. Instead, it felt as if the lights had suddenly turned towards her.

  She didn’t move and gripped the throttle as if the glow were reaching for her across the water. When a light lifted into the sky at the northern edge and the turbulence of chopper blades reverberated over the water, she finally eased forward. The helicopter seemed to be standing still, the clear rod of a searchlight extending below it. She switched off the running lights and steered north, aiming for the thicker darkness next to shore.

  TWENTY

  The lights had stopped a kilometre back and Storm had been paddling silently through a zone free of light and fields, as if they had flipped the breaker on a whole section of the city. This absence had allowed her further into the built up area than she had hoped. She had spent most of her time around the university and later the Gatherer compound, this concrete canal and where it led unknown. Shadows on the bank shifted and the occasional sounds of voices were the only indications that life existed in the darkened zone. She pulled the paddle silently through the water as the cracked concrete of the industrial dock slipped past. Her arms were heavy and her shoulders ached, yet she didn’t know what else to do other than lift and pull. Maria hadn’t spoken since they had left the river, and her stillness made Storm pull harder.

  Up ahead streetlights lined a boulevard, the first line of the electricity that spread in a great swath on either side of the dark strip of river. It felt strange to think of this hostile place as cover, this unexpected patch of darkness the only thing that had allowed her to enter the city at all. Not far beyond the streetlights, a brighter area glowed like a stage or a spotlighted statue. Her anxiety rose with each lift of the paddle, anticipating the first burn of a field, her skin tingling in false alarm several times only for the burn to disappear at the brush of her hand over the skin.

  A blocky, narrow structure loomed against the river’s concrete walls. A boathouse or some kind or storage space perched over the water. She paddled next to it, feeling for a hold she could use to keep the boat from slipping downstream. The wood was rough and warped, and the holds it offered up were crevasses only big enough to grasp with her fingers. The skitter of some small animal, probably rats, made her take up her paddle again and continue upriver. She was amazed she could still move, the memory of the helicopter overriding the weakening muscles in her arms and the ache across her shoulders.

  A log or some kind of floating object scraped along the side of the hull, briefly dragging the boat to one side. It was too dark to see anything but the faintest outline of the mass of splintered wood and discarded sheets of plastic. How many times had she imagined coming back here, choreographing her return from exile with all its fanfare? She’d imagined her mother would be there, and Daniel, the whole team reassembled. Even after she knew the team was dead she had kept them in her mental rehearsal, as if clinging to that fantasy would bring them back. How much more fitting for her to be slinking back through a stinking canal, now that she, and almost everyone, knew what the Gatherer had truly delivered.

  A square patch of light broke the darkness beside the river. She stopped her paddle mid-stroke until she recognized the orange, flickering glow that spoke of candles rather than electric light. She paddled carefully over to the river wall below the light and the concrete staircase that led up the wall.

  She had grabbed the rope to attach it to one of the metal rings cemented into the wall when a man yelled above her.

  “What do you want from me?”

  She looked up, expecting a threatening form above her. The top of the wall was clear. A woman’s voice responded with equal ferocity.

  “I didn’t ask for this.”

  A door slammed and the night returned to quiet. Storm let the rope fall back into the boat and picked up her paddle. She was careful not to scrape the gunnel as she slipped away into the river, now more wary of who might inhabit the river bank—some friendly, most not. She would need to be careful figuring out which was which.

  The shape of a small boat emerged out of the shadow of the retaining wall. Her paddle was at the back of her swing and she kept it in the water, pressing down to slow their momentum. It was a bare metal boat, open to the elements, not even a motor attached to its transom. She lifted her paddle when she knew it was empty, moving carefully past.

  A dock jutted into the river forty metres ahead. She would stop and see if she could find a drug store, though she was reluctant to leave Maria or the boat, since both of them offered her a kind of safety. Beyond it, the glow of the city rose up in a great wall of brilliance. A Ferris wheel twinkled at the height of it, marking the center of downtown, spinning slowly in that other world. She had no idea how she would find medication for Maria in that solid mess of electricity. The abundance of the Gatherer would have jammed every available space in the city with something electric. Headlights streaked across the glassed wall of a building, and she gripped the paddle against the urge to flee, the darkness and the futility of even being there pressing in.

  A movement flashed in the darkness at the top of the bank. When she looked for it, it wasn’t there. She steered the boat away from the concrete edge, staying within the shadow of the wall. It felt as if she were gliding along a narrowing path, with more danger and stronger fields waiting upstream.

  She craned her neck to see into the blackness above the bank, the unlighted warehouses and unidentifiable silhouettes of storage yards providing an infinite number of places to hide. She checked behind her with each stroke, scanning the tops of both concrete banks. Reflections of the distant lights gleamed off steel containers wet from the earlier rain. She dipped her paddle and pulled.

  The height of the pier slowly rose above her, the concrete sides higher than her shoulders. She pulled herself along the pier until she reached a rusted ladder that ran down to the water. She tied the boat to the second rung and leaned down to check on Maria.

  Her skin was hot to the touch, her hands icy and her leg ballooned with infection. Storm checked the two hundred dollars in her pocket and hoped it would be enough. The ladder creaked when she put her foot on the first rung.

  “Where are you going?”

  Maria’s voice was hazy, blurred.

  Storm stepped off the ladder and back into the boat. Maria made scuffling sounds as she tried to rise, her movements slow and clumsy.

  “I’m going to get you some antibiotics.”

  It pained Storm to watch Maria struggle.

  “I don’t need them.”

  “You’re getting worse. We have no other choice.”

  “I’ll go.”

  Maria tried to turn onto her hands and knees. Her back hit the unders
ide of the bow. There was a restrained whimper as she tried to crawl from under it that cut straight to Storm’s fear. She placed a hand on Maria’s shoulder.

  “Stay here and rest. I won’t be long.”

  “It’s not safe.”

  Maria collapsed back onto her nest of life jackets and sleeping bags, winded from her brief effort. Storm ignored her own wave of crushing fatigue.

  “We’re in some kind of dark zone. I’ll be fine.”

  Maria’s gaze flicked behind Storm, to the restricted view of the concrete bank.

  “Take the rifle.”

  Storm placed the rifle across Maria’s chest. Her hands curled instinctively around the barrel.

  “I wouldn’t know what to do with it.”

  “You’ll keep to the shadows? Come back if you sense any kind of field?”

  There was a panic to Maria’s gaze that Storm had never seen. She rested her hand over Maria’s where it gripped the rifle.

  “I’ve done this before.”

  Storm felt Maria’s grip on the rifle tighten.

  “Not very well.”

  Storm stood quickly, not wanting Maria to see her fatigue. Dark patches appeared in her vision. The rusted metal of the ladder was rough beneath her hand, small flakes digging into her palm. Six rungs to the top, as high as any skyscraper. It seemed ridiculous that this ladder would be what stopped her when it could have been so many other things. Her hands could barely hold the rung, her foot fumbling to find the first step. She had visions of falling backwards, landing half on the boat, half in the decayed, terrifying water. She hooked her elbows through the rungs and started climbing. She didn’t think of the water, or the boat, or the shaking ladder. Instead, she focussed on moving her arms to the next rung, lifting her feet and breathing enough air to feed her pounding heart and lungs.

  The edge of the concrete at the top of the ladder was solid, rough, and damp to her touch. She only had to climb over the top. She rested her forehead against the rusty metal, willing for her heart to slow, her body to find the strength. Two steps, two rungs and a final scramble over the edge and she was collapsed on her back, panting, the cold dampness of the concrete beneath her. The glow from the city permeated the sky, blocking her view of the stars.

  She struggled to her feet, stumbling until she found a slow, steady gait. One foot in front of the next. Her body felt hollow, starved, its depletion far beyond this single day.

  A dark road led to the left, the glow of the city at its end. The drug store, and medication, would be somewhere within it. Warehouses extended the length of the river bank, floodlights illuminating the yards beyond the bridge. It had seemed an easy plan: enter Rima, get the meds Maria needed. But faced with the great swath of electricity, the plan seemed doomed to failure and all kinds of pain and suffering.

  With a final look back to the boat, she chose the road leading away from the docks. The pavement was uneven and difficult to see in the dark, her path guided by the light at its end. Alleys opened up between warehouses, only a few steps visible before darkness blocked her view. It didn’t make sense that there was no light here, that she hadn’t felt the brush of a single field. The strength of the fields in the lighted area would be overpowering, a lethal force against her. Yet here, there was an absence as welcome as it was disturbing.

  She moved close to a warehouse to read the sign hung above its door. Spray painted graffiti obscured the letters, the slashed lines of paint extending onto the metal siding. The door below had been boarded over, dirt and old leaves accumulated at its base. The window beside it had not been so lucky, the glass smashed, a crate placed below by whoever had climbed through.

  She stopped as a wave of dizziness wobbled through her, walking again when it had cleared. She passed through a crossroads where two large laneways intersected, choosing to continue straight on for no other reason than that it was the direction she had been going. Her experimentation had been like that. Follow an idea because it was there. Let it take you where you needed to go.

  She had gone several blocks, the river far behind, when she felt a singe on her skin. She stopped and retreated several steps. The shape of a tall fence emerged less than ten metres ahead of her, blocking the road. Its metal posts gleamed in the darkness, the field it was generating far more effective at stopping her than the chain link fence and the inward slanted rows of barbed wire at the top.

  The barrier continued between warehouses on either side.

  “Don’t go any closer.”

  Storm started, alarmed at being so unaware. A small figure emerged out of the shadows. It had a nest of tangled hair, a thin jacket over a sweater, and what looked like a pink tutu over a pair of jeans.

  “Are you new here?”

  The voice was young and had an ease to it that seemed out of place in their surroundings.

  “Were you dropped off?”

  Storm stared at her, trying to reconcile the child with the threat of the barrier. Who sets up this kind of barrier for children?

  “What is this place?”

  “You should get off the street.”

  The street was dark where Storm had come from. The river and pier were out of sight, the voids between buildings filled with infinite places to hide. The girl was already disappearing into the shadows. Storm followed after her, her pulse high in her throat, her body protesting against the rush of adrenaline.

  “Why?”

  The girl stopped before the next street, a shaft of moonlight glinting off the top curled layer of her hair.

  “People come here at night.”

  The girl moved to step into the relative brightness of the street. Storm reached out her arm.

  “What people?”

  The girl cocked her head, the outline of a small nose and wide-set eyes appearing below the mass of hair.

  “How did you get over the fence?”

  “I didn’t. Is there a drug store in here?”

  She frowned. The childish pout of her lips seemed out of place with her calm certainty.

  “Somewhere I can get medicine. For when you have a headache.”

  “I know what a drug store is.”

  A metal gate or door clanged shut. The girl looked in the direction of the sound, waiting for the reverberations to end before crossing the street. The shadows between buildings had deepened. Storm saw movement where there was none. What kind of place had she stumbled into?

  “Is there one in here? My friend is sick.”

  “My mom is sick.”

  Storm bit back her frustration. The girl was leading her further into the labyrinth of warehouses and Storm didn’t know if she would be able to find her way back to the boat.

  “Can you show me where your mom gets her medicine?”

  “Medicine doesn’t help my mom.”

  It explained why the girl was out at night in this awful place, the mother too sick to keep track of her.

  The girl led her through a series of alleys and Storm became aware of people sitting in the dark. Some had their backs against the wall, so still that Storm wondered if they were alive at all. The girl paid them no attention, and occasionally one greeted the girl as Megan. A bright name, out of place in this strange, dark maze.

  They turned onto a larger throughway lit by torches on the walls as if they had stepped into the living core of the place from an earlier, more primal time. Firelight flickered off drawn, tired faces, and one group held cards in their hands. Conversations halted as they approached, and surprised, excited whispers started as they passed.

  A warm yellow light streamed from a doorway. Storm grabbed the girl’s shoulder and bent to speak into her ear.

  “Where’s the drug store?”

  The girl pulled away as if Storm’s touch had hurt her.

  “You said medicine.”

  The lighted room was high and ca
vernous, once a warehouse. Storm hesitated in the draft at the entrance, wary of the fields that came with light and heat. Beds filled the floor, some in rows, others stacked in makeshift bunks. Some were empty, but many had people lying still, eyes closed though Storm didn’t get the sense that they were sleeping. They were as thin or thinner than she was, and the space reeked of sweat, sickness, and too many people living in close quarters.

  Megan skipped away from her to a woman with straight, gray-streaked hair pulled back in a ponytail, and a stretched-out sweatshirt and saggy pants that looked like they had been worn for many days in a row.

  The woman smiled at Megan and rested her hand gently on top of the girl’s head. Megan’s hair was sandy blonde, her face dirty, and she was around ten years old. A group of younger children watched from a sectioned-off play area filled with toys.

  “She needs medicine.”

  Megan pointed at Storm as Storm felt the pressure of people drifting into the room behind her, following them in from the street.

  The woman’s tired, worn eyes widened when she looked up at Storm. Storm tried to move back but the arrival of the people behind her kept her in one place. Her weight loss and the cropped hair had not been enough. The woman rose and walked stiffly to Storm. Storm tried to flee sideways and ran into the wall of people arriving from the sleeping area. The woman laughed as her warm, smooth hand grasped Storm’s.

  “Miracles do exist.”

  Storm’s name was being whispered in the crowd behind her and she could see people sitting up along the rows of beds as the word spread.

  “Welcome.”

  Already people’s expectations filled the room. More shockingly thin people continued to push in through the door, spilling on either side of her. Up close the tremors were obvious. A red rash spread out and down from one woman’s ear. A man struggling to sit had the same tortured look as Mac and a child of no more than three jerked its head to the right every few seconds. Storm felt ill, the last threads of her energy stripped away.