Firebrand (10 page)

G
rab your pack,” Kell shouted. “Tide's rising. Time to sail.”

Breakfast was over and Rose hadn't joined me. I wanted to see her before I left for food gathering.

“Pack, Thomas!”

I picked up the canvas bag. Someone had filled my water canister for me, and wrapped my lunch portion inside a piece of freshly washed cloth. The smoothness of the whole operation was comforting. It reminded me that the colonists made these trips regularly.

They almost always came back alive.

Kell headed for two sailboats tied to the jetty. I'd been too distracted to pay much attention to them before, but they were extraordinary: two slender hulls instead of one, connected by a metal frame. There were no seats, just a piece of canvas strung tight across the frame.

Jerren climbed aboard and rapped his knuckles against the mast. “Ever seen a catamaran before?”

I shook my head.

“Then you're in for a treat.”

As he rigged the first boat, Alice copied him in the second. The process quickly turned into a competition, Alice's fierce determination to be first in everything against Jerren's familiarity with the sails.

When they were done, Alice took the helm of her boat, and Jerren, his. Ananias and Kell joined him, so he made sure to tell Alice that his crew was heavier. Alice didn't respond, but raised an eyebrow, recognizing the excuse for what it was.

Jerren pointed to Charleston. “I'll see you over there, then.”

“Where?” said Alice, sounding impatient.

“Over there,” he replied with deliberate vagueness. “As long as you don't fall too far behind, you won't get lost.”

For a boy who'd only met Alice two days earlier, he sure knew how to get under her skin. Before the words were even out of his mouth, the race was on.

Jerren set off first. He understood the harbor conditions well and began to pull away from us. As she struggled to make up ground, Alice wore the same grim expression she'd had ever since Eleanor had died. Griffin and I sat beside her in awkward silence, spectators in her personal battle with Jerren. Behind us, Sumter faded from view.

“We're closing in,” muttered Alice. She seemed to be speaking to herself, not to me, but she'd said so little the past two days that I leaped on the words.

“What can I do?”

“Nothing.”

We caught Jerren after a mile. When we were only a few yards back, he eased the tiller toward himself, blocking our path. Alice baited him into changing his course even more drastically and then slipped under him. The breeze was blowing from the south and too late Jerren realized that we were going to steal his wind. We glided past as though he wasn't even moving. The only sounds were the water lapping against the bow and Kell's laughter.

I stole a glance to see if Alice was smiling too.

She wasn't.

A couple more miles and we were bearing down on Charleston. It was the largest place I'd ever seen—a mishmash of battered buildings, crammed together so tightly that it seemed they'd had nowhere to go but upward. It must have looked beautiful once. Hard to imagine that such a place could be uninhabited. And uninhabitable.

We overshot our target because we didn't know where we were headed, but after turning about we joined Jerren and beached our catamaran on a long, slender island about a half mile east of Charleston. A ruined wall ran around the eastern tip; tree branches emerged tentacle-like from every hole. It had a similar feel to Sumter—a stronghold from a past too distant to imagine.

“Welcome to Castle Pinckney,” announced Jerren. “Glad you could join us.”

I scanned the land for rats but didn't see any. Neither Kell nor Jerren seemed concerned at all. Maybe that's what happened after years of food-gathering trips—you let down your guard. Did that make you more efficient? Or more complacent?

“This way,” said Kell. He stepped through a blanket of weeds, heading straight for an arch in the nearest wall. “This place is even older than Sumter. Not as strong or stable, but you can't have everything.”

We passed under the archway and into the ruined castle. Then we stopped in our tracks.

Plants ran in several orderly rows, green and healthy. There was weeks' worth of food here. About twenty barrels too, arranged neatly against the walls. Pipes connected them to the top of the walls, where a series of sloping wooden panels diverted rainwater.

Jerren took a seat in the shade beside a barrel. He rapped his knuckles against it. “Sounds full,” he said. “Got to love storm season.”

Kell looked up at the clear blue sky. “Easy to say when you're on dry land.” He turned to Ananias. “You were on the ocean when the last storm came through, right?”

Ananias took a sip from his water canister and gave a curt nod.

“How'd you handle such a large ship with your crew?”

The questions seemed innocent, but it was the answers that worried me. Ananias didn't seem fazed, though. He just tilted his canister toward Alice. “Same way her crew handled us on the way out here. With her on board, anything's possible.”

Jerren grabbed a metal bucket sitting beside the barrels. He placed it under a tap protruding from the barrel and turned a lever. Water gushed out.

“We'll start with the top rows,” Kell told him. Turning to us, he added, “Don't drink this water. We can't purify it out here, and we've lost too many days to sickness after someone drinks this stuff.”

I thought of Rose and how she used to be able to tell the purity of water from a single drop. She'd be able to do it on Sumter too if we combined elements. But who would trust her? And if they found out about our elements, how would they react?

I pushed the thought aside and joined Griffin as he wandered along the rows. With the element of earth, he knew better than any of us how difficult it was to keep plants alive.
Who. Plant?
he signed.

I relayed the question to Kell.

“Chief did,” he told us. “He was a botanist; a plant expert. A survivalist too. While everyone else was leaving Charleston, he put down the master plan for the colony. Enlisted the help of a fish expert and a water and sanitation specialist. They died a long time ago—old age—but Sumter was sustainable by then.”

Griffin watched intently as I passed along as much of the answer as I could.
Where. Plants. From?
he asked next.

Kell seemed to enjoy having all the answers. Or maybe he just enjoyed the stories of how they'd survived. “During the evacuation of Charleston, there was looting, just like in every other city. But people always took the same things first: water, food, and fuel. Chief took live animals, seeds, tools, and a couple of weapons for protection. Wasn't long before Charleston was a ghost town. After that, we began expanding our plantings and water collection to the other islands in the harbor.”

“You keep saying ‘we,'” Ananias pointed out. “You were, what—ten years old? Maybe less. So what exactly did
you
do?”

Kell licked his lips. “Chief sent me into abandoned houses and stores to grab stuff. I was the fake-out.” He was obviously proud of the title. “People were killing each other over nothing, but no one wanted to shoot a kid. They'd just tell me to get out instead. So I'd pretend to leave and then pop them. One bullet in the head for them, one fully loaded weapon for me. Can't beat that exchange.”

I waited for him to tell us it was a joke—a sick one, sure, but I wouldn't put that past Kell.

He curled his lip. “Don't act so surprised. Any adult who's still alive today has killed. Even your parents. Maybe they didn't pull a trigger, but no one survived unless they were prepared to see someone else die.”

Jerren was about to fill another bucket, but Alice snatched it from him. She wasn't content with being faster in a boat; she wanted to outwork him too. Or maybe she just couldn't bear to listen to stories of people dying so soon after losing her father and sister.

Alice splashed water across her face as it gushed into the bucket. “So where are the rats?” she asked.

Kell and Jerren exchanged a knowing glance. “There aren't any,” said Jerren.

“But I thought . . .”

Kell snorted. “No way Chief's sending you to a rat-infested island when you don't even know what vegetables and roots you're looking for yet.” He tapped his head. “Suicide squads move in pairs. Quickly. One person picking food, the other keeping lookout. Today is about learning the process, not about taking risks.”

Ananias wandered toward the nearest plot. “Why not tell us that?”

“Chief wants you to know the danger is real. If you'd freaked out on the way here, better for us to find out when there's no risk to anyone. Jerren and me . . . we don't want one of you accidentally costing us our lives, know what I'm saying?”

Alice looked Jerren up and down. “I can think of worse outcomes.”

Jerren fought back a smile. “Well, here's your chance. You're pairing up with me today.”

Alice gave a nonchalant shrug, but as he brushed by her, she moved the bucket to her other hand, trying to catch him with it. He sidestepped quickly, and grinned so large, all his teeth showed.

Kell took the rest of us over to the farthest plot and began listing the vegetables. He showed us how to tell if they were ready to be picked, and how to check the leaves for signs of blight. Insects were a problem, but couldn't be helped, he said, directing all his remarks to Ananias.

When Kell was done explaining, Griffin and I broke off as a pair. As Griffin carefully selected leaves from a spinach plant, I took the role of lookout, imagining what it would be like to stand on a tiny island in the middle of the harbor, surrounded by rats.

Alice stood beside the opposite wall; on lookout, just like me. Only she wasn't surveying the ground at all. Her eyes were fixed on Jerren as he poured water in a steady trickle. She seemed to be in a trance, just staring at this boy who was so unlike any she'd known before. When she finally looked up, she saw me watching her. Her expression, so calm a moment before, turned fierce, as though I'd uncovered a deep secret.

It wasn't difficult to guess what that secret might be.

A
lice and Jerren were still busy when the rest of us filled our packs with fresh vegetables and returned to the boats. We tied the packs to the masts to make sure they didn't fall overboard.

While we waited, Ananias pointed to Charleston. “Why don't the rats cross over here?”

“Too far,” answered Kell. “One or two out of a whole pack would make it, but not enough to populate an island.”

“So why didn't the people from Charleston come over here to live?” I asked. “There's plenty of food.”

Kell pushed the boat out. “No shelter, for one thing. And we didn't plant here for almost a year. We needed to be sure no one would steal from us.”

“You're a refugee colony.”

“So? We wanted survivors, not hangers-on. Not the ones who were too stupid to keep themselves alive.” Kell ran his hand over his bald head. “It sounds cruel, I know. But we couldn't let them in and watch the colony collapse. We started taking refugees after six months, when we knew the fittest had survived. By then, anyone still alive had something special. A gift, or a quality.” He nodded to himself. “Like you, Thomas. You've survived sixteen years, right? So what's your special ability?”

I resisted the urge to look away. “Nothing. The Guardians were well-organized, is all.”

“Hmm.” He planted his hands on his hips. “Well, you better find a skill quickly. Today was a practice run, you understand? Tomorrow, we'll be heading to Fort Moultrie. It's less than half the distance we went today, but a thousand times more dangerous.”

My pulse raced. “Rats, you mean.”

“Sure. It's an island, but closer to the mainland, so the rats crossed over a long time ago. It's where Jerren's parents died.” He paused to let that sink in. “Unless the lookouts are working harder than the gatherers tomorrow, they won't be the last, either.”

»«

It was three miles back to Sumter. I figured Alice would want to race, so I pushed off quickly to give us a head start—anything to help her feel like herself again.

Griffin sat across from me, legs splayed out on the stiff canvas sheet pulled taut across the catamaran's metal frame. I tried to make eye contact a few times, but he was obviously angry about our early-morning conversation, because he wouldn't look at me.

Halfway across the harbor Alice had built a big lead. Satisfied that he wouldn't have anything more to do until we reached Sumter, Griffin reached into his bag and pulled out a piece of paper. He began to draw.

What. Doing?
I signed.

He didn't respond at first, but when he finished the image, he showed it to me. It was of a pair of hands forming the sign for
water
. He noticed my startled expression and finger-spelled the name
N-Y-L-A
. By the time he reached the last letter, he'd turned red.

She. Sign. Good,
I continued.

He gave a halfhearted nod.
She. Smart,
he returned, admiration coming through each decisive sign.

What. You. Talk. About?

He held up the paper again.
She. Learning.
He shrugged.
Not. Many. Signs. But. Try.

I was about to remind him that she'd followed our signs pretty well earlier that morning, but stopped myself. At least she cared enough to learn his signs at all.

How. Echo?
I asked.

From the way he furrowed his brow, it was almost like he'd forgotten what his echo was, or at least had to think hard about his answer.
Echo. Good,
he decided.
No. Pain.
He smiled for a moment, but then his face darkened again.
Me. Not. Solution.

Maybe,
I hedged.

He looked me right in the eye at last.
Not. Solution. But. You. Save. Me.

Save. You?

On. Roanoke.
He paused.
You. All. Save. Me.

I raised my hands to sign, a word or two to play down what we'd done for him. But he was already shaking his head, warning me not to do it. I'd been worried that learning he was the solution would change Griffin. I hadn't considered that the hardest part would be realizing that everything had happened because of him. Everything we'd risked and lost was a burden he had to carry. A debt he couldn't repay.

I leaned forward to take his hand—without our echoes, it would have felt different than ever before—but Alice interrupted us. “Useless,” she muttered.

I turned to face her. “What?”

She flicked her head at the boat trailing in our wake. “Jerren.” She seemed to enjoy saying his name, though she didn't smile. “He just got caught in our wake. Such a small wave, but he didn't see it coming. He's lost another few yards.”

“You like him, don't you.”

Her face tightened. “What do you mean?”

Reconciling with Griffin had lulled me into a false sense of security. I'd approached Alice all wrong. “He seems all right,” I said, trying to backtrack.

Alice raised an eyebrow.
“Seems?”

I shrugged. “I found him on board the ship last night. He was searching our cabins.”

“You went to the ship during the night?”

“Yes.”

“Alone?”

There was no use in lying. “With Rose. I . . . didn't want to wake you.”

“Right,” she said, like she didn't believe me for a moment. “And what did you two do after you got back?”

I could hear the judgment in her voice. “
Nothing
. We hid, so we wouldn't get caught.” I sat up again. “What's your excuse? I notice you weren't around the room this morning either.”

She gritted her teeth, but didn't answer.

“Don't you wonder why Jerren was on the ship at all?”

“Keep your voice down,” she hissed. “Sound carries on water. And no, what I really want to know is why you're telling me this now.”

“Because you should know.”

She dragged her mouth into a smile. “Should I have known this morning? Or on the way over today? Or should I only know when you think I like him?”

“This isn't personal, Alice. I don't know if we can trust him. And since you're spending all your time with him, that's important.”

She blanched. “All my time? Or is this really about nights?”

Jerren cruised by, pumping his fist in triumph. Alice didn't care, though. Normally, she would've responded by trying even harder, working the boat for every yard of advantage. Now she just stared straight ahead, as if nothing mattered at all.

“The reason I've been leaving each night is because I need to be alone,” she said. “Every time I close my eyes, I see Eleanor. I remember the way she looked at me. The way she fell.” Alice raised a hand to her neck, ran her fingers across the red marks. “I have nightmares too. My father, strangling me. I feel his hands around my neck. I can't block it out. I can't . . . breathe.” Suddenly her eyes welled with tears. She stared at the sail above us. “He wanted to kill me.”

“He was crazy, Alice. Eleanor had died and—”

“He wanted me
dead.
” The word punched the air, left no room for explanations or excuse. “And then you stepped in and . . . I think you saved my life.” She swallowed hard. “No. I
know
you saved my life. And I don't know how that makes me feel.”

I placed a hand on her knee to comfort her. “He wouldn't have done it, Alice. He couldn't.”

From thirty yards away, Jerren watched us fall farther behind. He wasn't racing anymore. He already knew Alice well enough to realize that something was wrong. He looked genuinely concerned. So did Ananias.

Alice didn't see them, though. She was looking at me, her expression tired and frustrated. “It doesn't matter, Thom. You and me, we rescued them all, remember? They were as good as dead and we
saved
them. And after all that, my sister couldn't face me, and my father killed himself so he wouldn't have to live with me anymore.” She fed the mainsheet through a cleat, as if simply holding the rope was too much effort. “All my life, I dreamed of getting away from Hatteras. But now I'm here, and I can't see the future at all.” She surveyed the harbor, eyes constantly shifting. “The only thing left is loss.”

»«

Chief sat on the jetty, waiting for us. As I clambered off the boat, he handed me a water canister. “Drink up, Thomas. I need a word.”

The others went on without me. “What is it?” I asked.

He flicked sweat from his forehead. “You probably smelled me from Pinckney. I've been cleaning poop from the enclosure. Figure it's hard for anyone else to complain about their work while I'm doing the worst job of all.” He lifted a hand to his nose and grimaced as he sniffed it. “Might be time to revisit that idea, though.”

He laughed. Even though it seemed rude, so did I. Every time the breeze calmed for a moment, he stank.

“That's why we keep the enclosures outside, of course. On still days, it can get stifling inside those walls. The fumes would be dangerous.”

“Makes sense,” I agreed.

“Indeed.” He wiped the back of his arm across his forehead. “Life has to be symbiotic: We work
with
nature. Wasn't that way before the Plague, of course. Back then, we'd fight the earth, the water, the wind, then find ways to undo the damage.” He pursed his lips. “Sometimes I wonder if the Plague wasn't nature's way of reclaiming the world.”

He massaged his back as he took a seat on the jetty. “Tell me about life in your colony.”

It was my cue to join him, but I didn't want to. It was late afternoon and I was hot and tired. I wanted to check on my father and Rose.

“Please, Thomas. Sit down.”

Reluctantly, I sat. “Our colony wasn't that different from yours. Rainwater harvesters, vegetable gardens, a grove of fruit trees—”

“And fish.” He made it sound important. “Marin caught a beauty yesterday. Didn't exactly feed the whole colony, but every little bit helps. Is she going to be able to do that often?”

Panic rose inside me. “I don't think so. It was probably just luck.”

Chief scratched his chin. “Well, you'd know, of course, since you were there. But I think you might be wrong, all the same.”

“Really?”

“Yes. See, one of the colonists saw her catch it. He described the whole thing to me. Many years ago, I saw a woman use the very same technique. She'd tickle the fish's underbelly, make it still, and then grab it.” Chief nodded to himself. “If Marin has the skill too, she'll be a real asset to us.”

There was nothing for me to say to that. All I could think was how fortunate it was that the colonist had misunderstood the situation with Rose and Marin completely. Otherwise we'd be having a very different conversation.

“Does Marin seem happy?” Chief asked then.

Again I sensed that the question wasn't completely innocent. Again I had no good answer. “I think so.”

“Good. I want everyone to be comfortable here.” He peered up at the battlements and waved at the children who were watching us. “Poor things,” he murmured. “This fort is their salvation and their prison. I can't imagine spending my entire life in such a small place.”

“They seem to be doing all right.”

“I suppose so.” He gazed at the harbor, a view he must have taken in a thousand times. “Do you have any idea about the history of this place, Thomas?”

“Only that the people here used to destroy ships entering the harbor.”

He chuckled. “Not all ships. But yes, Fort Sumter was a military installation. An attack on this place started a civil war. Depending on whom you ask, it was either the moment that our country died, or was truly born. When the dust settled, they rebuilt from the battered remains of the old fort.” He looked me squarely in the eye. “I don't believe it's an accident that we've been able to survive here. I believe in a higher power, a God if you will, that wants our nation to be reborn. Our civil war is not man against man, it's man against rat. But we have battled the Plague and won for eighteen years. And we'll continue to fight.”

I could tell he meant it, but it was hard for me to share his faith. “Do you think you'll win?”

He looked suddenly tired. His eyes drifted back to Charleston, tantalizingly close but completely uninhabitable. “I don't know. I've never lost faith, but I'm an old man and I fear I may not live long enough to see a solution.”

Hearing that word made me shudder. He didn't mean anything by it, didn't even register my startled response, but the meaning of
solution
had changed forever.

“Please help us, Thomas.” Chief patted me on the shoulder and stood. “The truth is, time's running out for all of us.”

Then he walked away, leaving me to wonder what he meant.