“Should have brought your coat,” Luke’s voice said at her side. “Here, you can wear mine. I’m not cold.” He passed his coat over. She shrugged it over her shoulders but didn’t put it on.
“Thanks,” she said, returning her gaze to the moon. The premonition, or whatever it had been, was gone, and the moon looked completely natural as it sunk behind the mountain.
“Aw, come on!” he chided, nudging her. “I mean, honestly, the first expedition out of the valley in over twenty years, and you’re not even a little excited?”
How am I supposed to answer that
? she thought.
Am I supposed to admit that I started having premonitions again? Dreaming of flat places, strange people, and Dad dying?
She sighed. “I’m worried about Dad. I don’t think he’s up to this trip.” Jacob had not yet decided who he would take, but it didn’t matter. Marlin would be at the top of the list.
“Your dad’s an ox.” Luke replied. “No one will go after him. Besides, Patrick said he overheard Jacob and Amos discuss the possibility with his father. Says they plan on avoiding contact at all cost. They will try to scavenge what we need from abandoned towns and things.”
“I know,” Amy replied. “Dad told them that.”
“You’ve known about this?” Luke replied shocked. “For how long?”
Amy just shrugged. “Amos has been talking about the possibility since the day after the lightning strike. He talked to Dad about it at length.”
“And, of course, your dad talked to you,” Luke grumbled.
Amy rolled her eyes. Luke went to every community meeting. He took pains to be involved in “adult” business. And yet his dad treated him like a kid. Amy ignored community politics, but they showed up on Marlin’s doorstep, and she was invariably caught up in them, for better or worse.
“I didn’t know he’d decided for sure until tonight, like everyone else,” she said to placate him. “Besides, that’s not what worries me. I don’t believe the terrorists, the militia, or anyone is out there waiting for us.”
Luke nodded. “You were right the other day, anyway. It was mostly the environment. I reckon what’s left down there are just a few villages like us, struggling to survive.”
“My dad’s health hasn’t been good for a while, you know,” Amy said. “This winter has been . . .”
“Hard. I know there have been a lot of bad colds and stuff.”
“It’s worse than that. Dad’s been weak, weaker than I have ever seen him.”
Luke snorted. At his weakest, her dad could outmatch anyone at the camp.
“He’s always so short of breath, like he’s been working too hard.”
“Your dad does work too hard,” Luke countered. “Always has.”
“You don’t understand, Luke. He’s like that even in the morning.”
“They’ll look after him.”
Amy snorted. “Yeah, right, those idiots.”
Luke’s eyes shone bright as he leaned in, his excitement barely contained. “Maybe there will be someone along who isn’t an idiot,” he whispered.
“Like who?”
“Like me.”
“You!?” She exploded. “Yeah, right. They won’t take any boys.”
He looked hurt. “I am seventeen, nearly a man.”
“No offense, but by their standards,” she pointed back toward the community building, “not nearly.”
“Daniel and I discussed this on the way back from our last trip up to the barricades,” he went on. “They have to. What other choice do they have? After tonight, I’m sure of it. They want twelve men to go. Which twelve? Most of the men are too old. Isaiah Hall would be a given, but his knee . . . he was limping by the time we got back from the barricades. He could never take the hike.”
He ticked them off on his fingers, “Larry Gatlin’s sixty-five this year; he’s too old. My dad’s got two young daughters at home; they won’t want to risk him. Same for Patrick’s dad. They won’t want family men, mark my words. They both have responsibilities around the ranch anyway. Shawn’s dad took a nasty spill hunting two winters ago, and he hasn’t walked the same since.” He shook his head. “The point is they can’t come up with twelve healthy men who can make the journey.”
Amy stared at him. He was right. Everyone knew it, but no one ever talked about the hole. The Ranch had pre-blast originals, old men and women now. And they had the new generation, young men and women in their late teens. In between was a ragged hole, a testimony to the difficulty of the first few years.
Almost every family had one or two babies buried up in the ranch’s small cemetery, died of influenza or simple starvation in those horrible first few winters. Other couples had been left sterile, temporarily or permanently, by the hardships.
“Anyway,” Luke went on, “I think I have a fair chance of being selected. I am not as good at hand-to-hand combat as Patrick—he’s sure to be in—but I am a better shot. It depends, of course, on just how many of us get chosen.”
Amy had an image of herself spending the whole summer watching out the window for her father and her only friend. “Fine, be that way!” she yelled and stomped off.
Behind her she heard his faint “huh?” of surprise. If she allowed herself to look back, she was sure she would see his hurt expression. So she didn’t look. She knew how much he wanted to contribute, to be part of something this big. Hell, if it came to that, who wouldn’t want to get out of this valley? Who wouldn’t want to see what was left of the world, the world they had only heard about but had never actually seen?
For a week, rumors ran wild. Every day at school, the boys got together to gossip. Jacob was making the rounds. Every household was host to quiet conversations between the men. Two questions hung in the air wherever he went. Who could be trusted? Who could be spared?
From a few phrases or sentences overheard, the boys carefully constructed their own lists. Old injuries were discussed and factored in. Families were counted; they surely wouldn’t send anyone with young children. Ages were counted again and again.
All of the boys agreed on one thing. The ranch could not possibly spare twelve of the men. At least a couple of them were going. Patrick swaggered around like he had already been chosen, and no one dared contradict him. The others held their breath and prayed.
When the day came, it was a warm one. Larry and James Gatlin insisted on driving the sheep down into the shearing pens, even though they knew no shearing would get done that day. By noon, even they had given up any pretense of work and joined the throng gathered outside the community hall.
Jacob Clayton reported for duty just after noon. He gave a short speech. He spoke of the need for experience versus the need for stamina. He spoke of the need for speed and stealth versus the need to carry as many supplies back as possible. Both issues required compromise.
He spoke of the strains on the ranch. Twelve men was a lot for a ranch that boasted barely forty adults altogether. The hardship for those who stayed behind, he said, would be nearly as great as for those who left.
The ranch had only four young families, Jacob reminded them. All the rest were either veterans from before the collapse and their remaining children, or youth not yet old enough to be wed. The ranch must be careful of sacrificing any of them. They were the ranch’s hope. There was a silent cheer from the boys, for the implication was not lost on them.
Luke and Daniel had discussed the young men in detail. There was more to it than that. James Gatlin, Matthew Hopes, and Bobby Gamelson Jr. were hard workers and invaluable to the ranch. Liam O’Malley and Scott Callahan were worthless and untrustworthy. Jacob would not choose any of them.
Finally, after presenting all the same arguments that the boys had made over the last week, Jacob got down to the real business of offering his solution. He pulled the list of expedition members from his pocket and began to read.
First, after himself, was Marlin Beland. This was no surprise. In fact, Marlin himself hadn’t even bothered to show up to hear the list read. Amy had, however. A fact that Luke noted.
Next was Larry Gatlin. His name had often come up and been hotly contested. A five-year veteran of the Marines, he was in his sixties but still very fit.
He was native to this region and had practically run the farm by himself in the early years. He would have been indispensable, except for the fact that his son was almost his spitting image. Larry’s youngest daughter was seventeen now. His son James had a two-year-old daughter, his first. Everyone knew who would be the bigger loss.
Next came Horace Manualson. He was mostly a given. His two sons were both dead. He was a mediocre worker around the ranch. He had no actual military experience, but it was well known that he had been one of the toughest street fighters the Klan had ever seen. This was one last chance to put that to work.
Then there was John McKurtz. Jerome McKurtz had been a founding member of Freedom Ranch. He had gone to prison on gunrunning charges a couple of years before the blast, leaving his wife and twelve-year-old son, John, for the ranch to care for.
John’s own son, Jerome, named after his grandfather, had hoped desperately to be picked, despite being only fourteen years old. Now he would wait at home while his father went.
Next came Willie Jones, an old friend of Horace’s. He was mildly retarded, but he was in good health, strong, and had no family to miss him.
Liam O’Malley was next. The twenty-year-old had a wife and one-year-old daughter, but it was generally agreed that they would not miss him much. He did little enough around the ranch that his work would not be missed either. In fact, the only thing the O’Malleys were noted for was their home-brewed beer. Since they drank the majority of it anyway, it would be no great loss. Besides, Mark had one very important thing going for him: he was undoubtedly the meanest man anyone had ever met, topping even his father in this. For once that might work to his advantage.
Then came Patrick Callahan, followed by Shawn Gamelson. The two gave each other high fives.
Finally Luke heard his own name called. He made a little victory gesture. Spying Amy’s frown, he dropped it. He barely even heard the last two names as they were called out: Daniel Hopes and Kurt Derry.
Daniel patted Luke on the back in congratulations.
“A good worker and a stable influence,” Daniel’s father had been telling anyone who would listen for days now.
Kurt was the only real shock. He cringed as people craned to look at him. It was clear he was as shocked to find his name on the list as they were.
Luke thought he could guess the reason for Kurt being included. Jacob and James Derry, Kurt’s father, had been friends for years. They had grown up together in the foothills of these mountains.
James was wiry but strong. Those who fought with him knew him to be a cunning and ruthless warrior. But Luke had once heard Jacob tell his father that it was not always so. He had been nervous and high strung as a child. The years leading up to the collapse and the fighting during the first years had hardened James Derry. Jacob apparently thought this mission would do the same for James’s son. Luke hoped it would be so, but he had his doubts.
Jacob told everyone they would have one week left to prepare. Then they would be leaving. Luke knew this was more for those staying than those going. Amos made sure there were rucksacks packed with tents, supplies and rations for an extended trip, all available at a moment’s notice. After thirty years of waiting, others might have let their guard down, but not Amos.
Those remaining behind had so much more to do. This was the first such expedition in many years. Likely, it would be the last for as many. They had to make the most of it. Everyone was busy compiling lists of things they might need. Every request had to go through Amos. Most would, undoubtedly, be denied. The expedition would be severely limited as to how much it could carry. Even those requests that were accepted would have to be carefully prioritized.
Amy came over and gave Luke a weak smile and a half muttered congratulations. It was probably as close to an apology as he would get. He could understand her being upset now that he thought about it.
In the end, he was going as much for her as for himself. After this mission, his father would have no choice but to acknowledge that he was a man. Then he could get permission to start building his own house. Before the next summer was over, he and Amy could be wed and living in their own house. Surely that was worth his sacrifice this summer?
Amy wandered off, leaving Luke to celebrate with his friends. Hell, she’d have to get used to him being gone anyway.
She stopped and sighed. What was she going to do all summer with both her father and Luke gone? It would be quiet around their house.
Well, she’d find things to keep herself busy. With her dad gone, she’d be twice as busy with work anyway. She’d have to manage just about anything that took more than half a brain. She’d have to run the biodiesel still, keep the tractors running, and get the well pump back up. That was about the extent of the remaining technology now that the solar array was fried, but it was by no means the end of Marlin’s responsibilities.
The shed next to Marlin’s house contained the ranch’s main smithy. Marlin and Larry took it in turns to work there. With both of them gone, it would pretty much be up to Amy. She could probably get James to help her on big jobs, but he would have double the responsibility with the sheep now too.
Theresa Deaton had been after Amy for a couple of months about blowing some new glassware. Jaime Hall wanted help with the kiln, as she had most of a winter’s worth of ceramics that she hadn’t been able to fire. She couldn’t recruit Luke and Daniel to help dig clay from the neighboring valley, but maybe she and Jaime could handle it themselves.
Still lost in thought, Amy entered her house. She found her dad at the kitchen table, blowing his nose. He shoved the handkerchief into his pocket when he saw her, but not before Amy saw a flash of red against the white.
“What’s wrong?” Amy demanded her eyes narrowing suspiciously.
“Sinus trouble.” He shrugged. “Another damn cold.”
“Bullshit.”
He shrugged and looked away.