Away (5 page)

Home turned out to be one of the largest of the huts that dotted the camp. As they got closer Rachel could see it had been constructed from rocks, many years before, judging from the lichen and moss growing on it. Some sort of mortar blocked the cracks and crevices, but the stones were fit together so expertly that it looked like they would hold without any help. The door, which was emblazoned with the obligatory blue circles that every door in the camp seemed to have, was fashioned from a piece of sheet metal that didn't fit the wooden door frame well. There was cloth bundled into the gap. Nandy took hold of the edge of the cloth before she opened the door so it wouldn't fall to the ground. She gestured to Rachel to enter. When they were both through she pulled the door shut after them and stuffed the cloth back into the gap.

“We keep meaning to get a better door.” She sounded apologetic.

Rachel followed Nandy into a large room. It took her a moment to adjust to the change in light.

“You can put your bags here for now.” Nandy put Ms. Moore's duffel bag on the floor near the door and walked toward what looked like a hearth. Rachel dropped her bag next to Ms. Moore's and followed. She could see two doorways off the main room that must be sleeping areas. When Nandy lit an oil jar she saw a large table surrounded by stools.

Rachel froze in place. In the middle of the table lay a . . . creature. It was about the size of a lynx. Rachel had studied lynx back at The Property, as part of a home schooling lesson Vivian prepared about extinct animals; lynx in particular had captivated her because of their beauty, but also because of something—some fine awareness—in their faces.

The creature on the table looked a lot like a lynx in some ways. It had large ears, and emerald, slanted eyes set in a pointed face. It possessed a sinewy grace evident even in repose. It had that same fine awareness Rachel had admired in lynx. But instead of fur, this creature was covered in short, dense wool. The wool was curly, and striped like a domestic tabby cat. Rachel knew that it must be one of the peculiar creatures described in her net books about Away.

“A . . . sheep-cat,” she whispered.

“What?” Nandy shrugged off her coat.

Rachel pointed at the creature. “I think . . . Is that a sheep-cat?”

“What's a sheep-cat?” Nandy walked over to the table and sat down. She stroked the long, muscled back of the animal. “How was your day, Nipper?” The creature made no reply; it stared at Rachel, inscrutable.

Rachel hesitated. “I've read about those, I think. In the books they called them sheep-cats. But they were described as much larger, and vicious too.”

“Nipper's pretty big as Woollies go. Most are a bit smaller. But your books are right about the vicious part. If I managed to get close enough to touch a wild Woolly I would lose my hand. Not that you aren't wild, right, Nipper?” Nandy smiled and dug her fingers into the thick fleece behind the Woolly's ear. “He needed some help once, when he was a baby. I gave it. And we've been friends since.” Nipper growled softly, still staring at Rachel.

“Have a seat. We have a lot to talk about.” Nandy laughed when Rachel stayed where she was. “He's just saying hello. He won't hurt you, will you, Nipper?”

The Woolly turned his head and gazed at Nandy. He growled again, and tilted his head so her fingers found a new place to scratch.

Rachel edged toward the chair closest to her and slowly sat down. Nipper watched. When she was finally settled he lifted the left side of his lip in a sneer, revealing one long fang.

“So sheep-cats are real.” Rachel thought about the fantastic stories she had loved to read about Away and wondered what other creatures described in them might turn out to actually exist.

“Have you started bleeding yet, Rachel?” Nandy's tone was all business now.

“Do you mean . . . menstruating?” Rachel kept her eyes on Nipper.

“Yes. If you have, we'll need to bring extra provisions on the trek. I doubt you had time to pack anything.”

“I had the implant when I was born. Didn't . . . Oh, of course you didn't.” Rachel felt the strange sense of disorientation that had been hitting her since she Crossed the Line. Every time she saw the battered pots and pans or flipped the useless light switch on the wall in her sleeping room, she realized all over again that she was
Away,
that the devastation from long-ago bombs and betrayal was real. These people had no modern conveniences. Any food they ate, they killed or grew; any clothing they wore, they made, from cloth they wove. They drank water they hauled from the stream, not water dispensed from condensation units. If someone grew ill, they could easily die. It was like nothing Rachel had ever experienced.

“I won't start menstruating until I get my repro clearance and permission to have my implant removed. So no worries there.”

“Repro clearance?”

“Permission to have a child.” Nipper stretched one front leg out toward Rachel and showed off six bladed toes. Rachel stared at the claws, fascinated; they appeared to be serrated along their edges.

“Well.” Nandy's face looked the way it had when they were talking about books. “We don't need permission here. Just luck.”

“Is Pathik your only child?” Rachel wasn't certain why Nandy looked so angry.

“I love him like he is, but Pathik's not mine. His mother died giving birth to his younger brother.”

“He has a brother?”

“He didn't live either.” Nandy's eyes glittered at Rachel from across the table. Nipper growled again, low and long. “The woman who was the healer then couldn't help them. Even Saidon—she's our healer now—couldn't have helped them. She's got a great gift, but it's limited. If someone is truly dying, she can't heal them.”

“Do . . . do you have any children?”

“Do you see any?” Nandy's voice was hard.

“I'm sorry.”

Nandy shook her head, swiping at her eyes with one hand, calming Nipper with the other.

“It's not your fault, is it, Rachel? So it does me no good to be mad at you.”

The door to the hut crashed open, and Pathik burst into the room with a stack of kindling.

“The wadding, Pathik! How many times do I have to remind you, hold on to the wadding so it doesn't fall. Or next time you do all the washing.”

“Sorry, Nan.” Pathik blinked at Nandy's tone. “I think it only got a little dusty.” Pathik made a production of brushing the cloth off. “Time to go—they're all waiting. I told them they could meet Rachel today.”

“Who? Who can meet me?”

“The children.” Nandy rose and gave Nipper one more caress. “Time to go put that dictionary to use.” She paused by Rachel, and put a hand on her shoulder. “Sorry. None of it is anybody's fault, at least nobody in this room.” She smiled, though it was a weak version of her usual smile. “Let's go.”

Rachel watched her walk out the door, Nipper fast on her heels. She looked at Pathik.

“Did I walk in on something? She's not usually snappish.”

Rachel shook her head. “Nothing much.” She looked at Pathik, taking in his tired eyes and his face, the face she had decided was handsome, even if its owner was often irritating. “I'm sorry about your mother, Pathik. And . . . and your brother.”

“Why are
you
sorry? Has nothing to do with you.” Pathik refused to meet her eyes.

“Because . . . because they died.” Rachel brushed past him and headed for the door.

“Rachel.” His quiet voice stopped her. She turned back to face him.

“Thanks.” He looked at her intently. “For being sorry, I mean.” He reached over and touched the collar of her jacket, just below her earlobe. “Are you going to be warm enough in this? The schoolroom doesn't have a fireplace.”

“Schoolroom?” Rachel felt oddly warm, and somehow she couldn't drag her gaze from his.

Pathik grinned. He let his fingers slide off of her collar. “Nandy's our teacher. We're going to help her today.”

CHAPTER 5

T
HE SCHOOLROOM TURNED out to be in the second of the smaller buildings. Like the building Rachel had been sleeping in, this one was made of some sort of gray block, and was utilitarian in its architecture. It did not have a door on the main entrance, which opened onto a single large room. As Pathik had said, there was no fireplace here. An aisle led up the center of the room, and on either side of it were rows of wooden benches. Rachel could see the marks left from a cutting tool, where someone planed the logs long ago. The rough cuts on the top sides of the logs were smoothed from years of use. Nipper was lounging on the bench closest to the door.

Nandy was already at the front of the room. She took three flat metal trays down from a shelf and put one on each of three small, low tables centered in the aisle between the rows of benches. Pathik motioned to Rachel to follow him to the front, where he took a large plastic bucket down from the shelf. He handed Rachel a bundle of pointed sticks.

“Three per tray,” he said, and started down the aisle. At each tray, he tilted the bucket and dumped a mound of sand in. Nandy came along behind him and smoothed the sand flat with the edge of a flat scrap of wood. Then she fetched a metal bowl and poured a quantity of water from it into each tray. Rachel stood at the top of the aisle, uncertain exactly what to do.

“Here, Rachel.” Nandy gestured for her to come. She took three of the sticks from the bundle and laid them next to the first tray. “Do the same with those.” Nandy pointed to the two trays farther down the aisle. “Check the points to be sure they're sharp.”

Rachel did as she was told. She didn't know why she was doing it, but at least it took her mind off of the upcoming rescue attempt. She'd been fighting thoughts about it all morning. What if they failed? What if they couldn't find her father, or worse, found him dead? She was glad for the distraction the task at hand offered.

Three little boys spilled through the door, laughing about something. They were followed by two girls. Soon there was a small crowd of children, milling and laughing and sometimes shouting at the back of the room.

“School time.” Nandy's voice was low, but all of the children heard it immediately and turned to where she stood in the front of the room. When they saw Rachel they all fell silent for a moment, and then began buzzing loudly with speculation. Nandy grinned at Rachel. “They are quite excited to meet you.” She turned back to the children.

“Seats, please.” The buzzing faded and the children scrambled to find places on the benches. All eyes darted between Rachel and Nandy. Rachel took a rough count and figured the number at about twenty-five. The age range seemed to be from around six to twelve, and they looked well-fed and healthy as far as she could tell. She had seen children in the camp during the few days she had been present, but always at some distance.

Pathik had joined Rachel at the front of the room. He put a hand in front of his mouth and leaned toward her. “They've been begging Nandy since the day you arrived,” he whispered. “They all want to see if you have fangs, or glow in the dark.”

“We have a guest today.” Nandy addressed the room. “I think you all know that we have a special visitor in camp, who helped Pathik get the medicine that Malgam needed to get well.”

“She's a Reg.”

Rachel didn't see who said it, but it wasn't said in a friendly tone.

“Bender.” Nandy sounded disappointed. “Come to the front of the room, please.”

A boy of about eleven stood. He stayed where he was, though, his head hung low.

“Bender. It's all right.”

The boy kept his head down, but he shuffled his way forward until he was standing in front of Nandy.

“Bender, I want you to properly greet Rachel.”

The boy raised his eyes and squinted at Nandy through dark lashes. He risked a sidelong glance at Rachel. “She's a Reg.” He spoke so low Rachel could barely make out the words.

“We've talked about this before, Bender. Remember our history lesson last week? Do you remember what we learned about the people over there?”

Bender looked skeptical. “Some of them are good.”

“That's right, Bender.” Nandy sounded as pleased as if the child had solved some complex mathematical problem. “Some Regs are good. Remember how we learned about the collaborators? How they want to make things fair for everyone? Collaborators are Regs, and they're good. So it isn't if you're a Reg or not that makes you good or bad, right, Bender?”

Bender had raised his head while Nandy spoke. He peered at her face, and then at Rachel. “Right.”