Horizon (03) (26 page)

Chapter
37

THAT NIGHT, THERE was a
memorial service for everyone who died in the mall. They made a forced march
north, five or six miles, along pretty country roads greening with budding
kaysev, and the clouds vanished and sun streamed down to earth.

They stopped at a chicken ranch.
The fowl had been among the first casualties of the Siege, laid waste by a
bioterror agent believed to have come from North Korea, though it was never
proved and remained anybody’s guess. Even after all these months, the place
still reeked. Red, who was walking with Cass, asked her if she remembered
helping him in the garden, unloading the chicken manure he got for free from
a friend who kept a few dozen hens.

“Chicken shit’s the
worst-smelling shit in the world,” Red said. “Oh, sweetheart, you should
have seen the look on your little face. What were you, eight? And your mom
was so pissed at me…”

“But everything grew that year,”
Cass remembered, smiling. It was becoming a little more okay, talking about
things like this with her dad. Everything—every story—was tinged with a
little sadness, a little anger over the fact that it had all come to an end
when he left. But it still felt right to talk.

“Yeah, you remember the
carnations?”

Carnations, for her birthday.
Every month had a birth flower. January was hers. They’d planted larkspur
for her mother and narcissus for her dad. When Ruthie was born, Cass looked
it up—the September flower was aster. Nobody really cared about things like
birth flowers anymore, but Cass decided that—maybe, if they ever found a
place to settle again, if she ever had a garden again, if Red and Zihna
wanted to—they could grow a little patch of asters for Ruthie.

The laying sheds were unusable,
layered with desiccated shit and straw, a few chicken carcasses they’d
somehow missed collecting and burning. But the ranch house was pretty, an
old rambling square wood-sided edifice with a wraparound porch. Whoever had
built it had situated it well; the back porch looked out over fields to the
mountains miles beyond.

It was in the field that they
had the service. The sun was sinking behind the house when they gathered in
its long shadow.

Shannon had assembled a list of
the lost. There were thirty-two names on it, including the two Easterners
who’d died—nineteen from the Beaters’ attack in the river and the day of
their departure, thirteen more at the mall.

Sh’rae Bellamy had done the
services on New Eden since the Methodist minister died, and she did so now.
She opened her Bible to a page that she had marked, and began to read, but
she made it through only a few words before she stopped and went very still.
She raised her eyes to the mountains in the distance and the evening wind
whipped her long cape around her, and the silence was deeper than Cass could
remember in a very long time. There was only the wind and the mewling of the
baby, the soft sounds of crying from somewhere deep in the
gathering.

After a while Sh’rae found her
place and began again. “From the Book of Isaiah,” she repeated.

“‘Do you not know? Have you not
heard?’

“‘The Lord is the everlasting
God, the Creator of the ends of the earth.’

“‘He will not grow tired or
weary, and his understanding no one can fathom.’”

Chapter 38

THE EVENING MEAL was a somber affair. There was little conversation as the bedding was laid out in the various rooms of the house. Sentries were chosen, four to a shift—it was not a particularly secure house with its front and back doors, ground-floor windows, screened crawl space below—but no one seemed especially concerned about what might come in the night. After the horrors of the day, perhaps they were numb to fear.

She found Smoke sitting on the steps of the porch as the sky deepened to indigo, talking to Nadir. There were others on the porch; Red and Zihna sat in rockers with blankets over their laps, and a few people sat alone or in pairs, staring off at the mountains disappearing into the night. Sammi and Colton sat at the far end of the porch, their legs dangling, eating tender young kaysev pods and tossing the beans out into the darkness. It was an evening for reflection. Tomorrow would be another day of travel, and while they would not forget the losses and tragedies of today, they would have to store them carefully and well so that they could go on.

Cass had hoped to find Smoke alone. She asked awkwardly if she could join them, and sat on the top step, so that they made a triangle. Nadir had set up a small tripod flashlight that illuminated the papers that were spread out between them with a soft yellow glow.

“You need to hear this,” Smoke said without preamble. “Mayhew lied to us.”

Nadir winced and shook his head. “We all did.”

“What do you mean?”

“The shelters they’ve built up north? They’re not meant for us. Definitely not meant for anyone from the West.”

“But what—then who—”

“There are four new settlements, that much is true,” Nadir said. “Two months ago, the first wave went north. They had the resources to build communities that could sustain three hundred people each for a year or more. Only thirty were in each party, though, enough to build, and stock, and secure the settlements. Men and women, all of them strong and healthy, so that if for some reason the others never made it, they would have the seeds of a new civilization to build on.”

“It was all decided very democratically,” Smoke said, a trace of contempt in his voice. “They practice
concordance
in the East.”

Cass was surprised at his bitterness. “But you’ve always believed in cooperative government. That’s what we did in the library.”

Smoke stared into the space between them, his eyes unfocused. “And what happened to the library? Burned, and everyone dead or worse.”

“Concordance was not the problem in our community,” Nadir interrupted. “If I may be so bold as to share my opinion. We had a good government, a well-meaning government. The plan was a good one. But when all of these good people went north, who is left behind—the ones who are not so good, yes? The ones who are not so idealistic. Who are thinking maybe about themselves, not about abstract values.”

“They had a lottery to figure out who would come in the second wave,” Dor explained. “Twelve hundred people, that’s all that would be allowed. Four groups of three hundred, minus the hundred and twenty who went first. That was less than half of the people living in their town.”

“Mayhew was not chosen,” Nadir said heavily. “Nor was I. Nor Bart, nor Davis.”

Cass was beginning to understand. “And those who were left behind…”

“There was an agreement, one we all voted on. The unlucky ones would stay, and deal with what was to come. We had reinforced our shelters, much as you have here. After today I can appreciate how small our efforts were against the threat of the fever. We would have been caught unawares. We would have made mistakes.”

“It would be just like here,” Smoke said. “Just like the West, all over again. They just knew what they were in for, that was the only difference. They knew what was coming.”

“The stories we heard, from the border—they did not prepare us, not for what I have seen. I could not imagine…”

His words hung in the air. Cass understood. Until you’d seen a Beater, they way they moved, their childlike hungers and rages, their sheer determination, you could not imagine the terror.

“And Mayhew?” Cass asked, though she had a feeling she knew the rest.

“He sought us out. He went to Davis first because of the horses. Davis owned many horses and he had given many away, for people to ride, but he had kept his finest for himself. Me and Bart, he chose us because we had weapons, and we are strong and young. Mayhew said to us, there is no reason we cannot go to this settlement. Let the others build it. Four more people, that is not a lot—once we arrive, they will not turn us away. These are good people, compassionate people.

“Davis taught us to ride. We stayed out on his ranch, and no one knew what we were doing. We gathered the things we would need. I taught Davis to shoot. The rest of us practiced. We were biding our time, to give the first group time to reach the destination and make everything ready. We thought our chances were best if we arrived around the time of the second wave, when everything was still confusing.

“That was a mistake. Because you see, we were not the only ones to have this thought. We found out about the others. People like us who were not content to be left behind, who were also gathering weapons, and among this group were bad people, killers and criminals. Mayhew tried to meet with them, to reason with them. He said we should split the settlements among us, each group should go to a different one, but there was no agreement. The more Mayhew tried to lead this discussion the more it disintegrated. It almost came to violence. Threats were made.

“We left that night. But Mayhew had an idea. He thought that we should make our numbers stronger, that we should find others—fighters. Survivors. People who already knew how to deal with Beaters. We would take the settlement by force, if we needed to.

“He thought we should come West, for two reasons. First of all, anyone here would have the advantage of experience with the Beaters and the fever. He was convinced we would need that knowledge to survive, even once we made it north. And second, the Western settlement is the harshest, the most difficult conditions. It was taking a chance, because there was some doubt about whether the first party could make it work, that it might not be able to build the infrastructure. But it was for that reason that Mayhew thought the other groups would avoid it.

“The first few days of the trip were difficult, and we made mistakes, but we learned. We lost Jarvis to the Beaters during our first day on this side of the mountains. He…” Nadir paused, his voice roughening. He swallowed before continuing.

“We grew closer. Bart and Davis and I did, anyway. Mayhew…he held himself apart. We did not begrudge him leadership, but we began to see that he could be cruel. The night we saw your flares, we did not come to help you, not the way we said, anyway. But when we found that you were well supplied, and already on the road, he saw a way he could turn this to our favor.”

“But we’re not all strong,” Cass said. “Not warriors. Not what he wanted.”

Nadir frowned and stared at the ground. “No, not all of you,” he agreed softly. “Mayhew planned to take the women and the strongest men only. He was willing to wait a few days, because he thought the difficulty of the travel would soften people up to the idea of leaving the weaker ones behind. But he was ready to kill them if that didn’t happen.”

“He thought—” Cass was incredulous. “Mayhew thought that of us? Even after he got to know us?”

Nadir looked miserable. “We tried—Bart and Davis and I, we tried to tell him…but he didn’t care to listen. In every society, some people get left behind. Not all your people made it off the island, so I guess he was thinking it might work. Anyway, he had other concerns. He wanted, um, more women. More women of childbearing age. He thought—well, that’s why he was so determined to get into the mall. His plan was to take their women too.”

“How the hell did he think he’d accomplish that?” Smoke demanded. “Just walk in and issue an invitation? Hey, girls, wanna come with us?”

“He thought once we’d spent some time with them, maybe there could be a big meeting of the leadership. A bargain could be made. He thought they might be willing to come, a few leaders and some of their women, once he explained about the settlement. And we would leave the weak members of our party there. He said it was humane, you see, because they would be protected, they would have resources.”

The chill of this knowledge traveled through Cass. “And you went along with this?”

Nadir’s expression darkened further. “I am ashamed to say that I did, at first. I was very afraid. Seeing the Beater, what it did to Jarvis…I believed we did not have a chance unless we did what Mayhew suggested. But now…I cannot continue as he wanted to. My heart is not in it.”

“Either that, or you’ve figured out the truth is your only option,” Cass said bitterly. She herself knew how powerful self-preservation could be, but she’d also learned to part with her trust very reluctantly.

“Cass, he’s giving us everything,” Smoke said. “The plans for the settlement, the coordinates, the notes on the conditions. He doesn’t even want to lead. He says he’ll accept whatever role we give him.”

“Oh no,” Cass said angrily. “If we do this, you’re not getting off easy. You know the most about this plan, you’re going to be one of the people making it happen.”

“I have seen what this man can do,” Nadir said, indicating Smoke with a palm placed flat on the step between him. “It would be my honor to follow him.”

“All right—but it can’t just be me,” Smoke said.

Cass was stunned. Since the first day Smoke and she had met, he had been adamant that he did not want to lead. Even in his role overseeing security in the Box, he avoided anything resembling a hierarchy, and rarely told anyone else what to do.

“I’ll do this,” Smoke said, knowing what she was thinking. His blue eyes bored into hers, and when he spoke again, it was only to her. “But you have to convince Dor to do it with me.”

“What?”

It was the last thing Cass expected. Since the first day on the road, the two men had barely spoken. Cass knew she was the reason. Before, in the Box, they had been each other’s closest confidant, each other’s best friend. Now, they were rivals. They both wanted her—and she did not know what she wanted.

The months in the Box—the time on the island—these were illusory, brief expanses of peace when it sometimes seemed like life returned to the way it had been Before. Except…in the Box Cass had something she’d never had: someone to love, who loved her back. Who loved Ruthie. Who wanted to make a family with her. Wanted to be with her forever…until the day came when he wanted vengeance more, when he left her and Ruthie and their home and their dreams, left everything behind to fight an impossible battle.

With Dor it had been different. They’d never talked about love. The thing between them was dark, needful, sometimes almost violent. It was an affair twisted from the threads of their hungers, their losses, their sorrows. At times it seemed like it inhabited only the fringes of their lives, especially because they always met in secret; but when they were together it expanded to encompass everything. When Dor touched her, everything else fell away, and it was like the world had never broken. No: it was like the world had never existed, like only they existed, in a free fall from time and space and everything they’d known. And yet, when it was over, they parted without promises, without words of love, without even a tender kiss, and they pretended there was nothing there.

Thinking about Dor was an endless loop, a puzzle with no answer. She had to stop.

“What is it that you’re proposing?” Cass asked Nadir.

“We have the location.” Nadir stabbed the paper with his finger. “We have the exact coordinates. We have routes, here. Weather conditions, population density from Before, everything. The first wave should have gotten there a week ago. They’ll be putting up the frames for shelter, figuring out the water source, building cooking facilities and latrines, and fortifying all points of egress. If we stick to the schedule on here, we can be up there in eighteen days.”

Cass examined the stack of printouts, the topographical map on top. “Where is that, anyway?”

“Mount Karuk. Fourth-largest peak in the Cascades. It’s national forest land, so it hasn’t been densely populated, but the site of the settlement—” Nadir pointed to the star inked on the map “—has been used by humans for, well, forever, because it’s got hot springs, waterfalls, great volcanic soil for farming. It’s perfect—except for one thing.”

“Yeah?”

Nadir shuffled the papers, selected one. “Here’s a detail map. The settlement is on this land, here. You can see the river, here—well, technically it’s a stream but these cliffs are hundreds of feet high. The falls, here, carved out this gorge, and you can see where the river breaks off here, so that’s impassable most of the year. Bottom line, it’s very hard to get to. But there’s some good news, too.”

“What’s that?”

“This bridge.” Nadir showed them an aerial shot, fuzzy in black-and-white. “Wait, I can do better. I’m trying to conserve battery, but…”

He took a cell phone out of his pocket and thumbed it on.

“Are you going to call up there?” Cass asked, looking at the little machine a bit incredulously. She was aware that high emotion was making her sarcastic, and she regretted it, especially because this was the first good news they’d had in a long time. “Tell them to order pizza?”