Firebrand (6 page)

W
ho are you?” The man standing over me sounded scared rather than angry. He wasn't as old as the Guardians, but had the weathered face and wrinkles of someone who spent every waking hour outdoors. “What are you doing here?”

The guns were only a yard or so from my face. “We heard your message,” I said quickly. “The one telling refugees to come to Fort Sumter.”

He exchanged glances with his companions. They seemed intrigued, surprised even, but didn't move their guns. “And so you came,” he said. “Lucky for you the message was broadcasting that day. Sometimes we need the solar generators for other things.” He ran both hands over his bald head, then pulled them down, stretching the sun-damaged skin around his mouth.

“Put your guns down
now
!” An older man, maybe sixty, strode across the grass and onto the jetty. “What are you doing, Kell?” he shouted.

“We have guests,” responded the younger man flatly.

“And what kind of host are you?” He pushed Kell aside. “I'm Chief,” he told me. “It's what everyone's always called me, so you may as well do the same.”

“Thomas,” I answered.

Chief crouched down. He flicked his head at the ship behind me. “Where's the rest of your crew, Thomas?”

I looked over my shoulder. From here, it looked almost like a ghost ship. “There aren't many of us. Some of the adults are weak.”

Chief's expression shifted. The guns edged closer.

“It's not Plague,” I added hastily. “Just injuries. Hunger.”

“What about the body you threw overboard this morning? We saw it, you know.”

Everything came rushing back: Eleanor crashing onto the deck, her broken body, the blood. I shivered. “There was a storm last night. She fell from the top of the mast.”

He sat back on his haunches. “I'm sorry. How old was she?”

“Eighteen.” The word caught in my throat.

“And you, Thomas?”

“Sixteen.”

“Sixteen,” he repeated. “You've never known another world than this, you poor thing.” He offered me his hand. “Come on. I may look frail, but I can still pull you out. Especially as my men seem to have forgotten their manners.”

True to his word, he was surprisingly strong. His biceps bulged as he strong-armed me out of the water and onto the jetty. “So you've come as refugees, I assume.”

I nodded. “We need your help.”

He cast an eye over me. I was taller than him and some of the other men, but I must have cut a pathetic and bedraggled figure, dripping onto the sun-bleached wooden jetty. “I can see that,” he said.

He flicked his wrist and the men who had continued to point their weapons retreated. “Listen, son. We have almost fifty men, women, and children here on Sumter. We are Plague-free and self-sufficient. And the truth is, the state of your crew has me nervous.”

“It's not Pla—”

He raised a hand to stop me. “I heard you the first time. I believe you too. You've got an honest face, and I've seen plenty of men over the years that don't. But I need to protect these people, Thomas. They were refugees too, once. So I'm going to need to inspect your ship.” He let the words sink in. “Would that be all right with you?”

The answer was no. My father's injuries weren't the kind you got from an onboard accident. And locked inside Dare's cabin were books and maps we couldn't explain. But I knew what I had to say. “Yes. Of course.”

Chief clapped his hands and waved his men toward a cutter on the other side of the jetty. Now that the situation was resolved, faces reappeared over the battlements—not just eyes and noses, but heads and shoulders.

“Coming, Thomas?” asked Chief, motioning toward the cutter.

“Yes.” But my eyes remained locked on two faces in particular: a boy about my age, and a girl who was a few years younger. They regarded me with serious expressions, their dark skin standing out against the collection of white faces. One eye closed, the boy raised a finger and then pointed it at me as if he was taking aim. When he jerked it upward suddenly, I realized what it meant. He was pretending to shoot me, as though I was as good as dead.

»«

The cutter slipped through the water. I sat at the stern and watched Kell watching me. He hadn't dared to cross Chief, which emphasized how powerful the older man was. It didn't mean he trusted me, though.

Everyone except my father had gathered beside the ship's starboard rail. It wasn't exactly a welcoming party; more like a sign of how desperate they were to get off the ship. Griffin lowered a rope for us, and Chief removed a rope ladder from the cutter's hold. He tied it to Griffin's rope and shouted for Griffin to raise it. Griffin couldn't hear, though, so I signed that he was supposed to pull it up. Chief watched the interaction with interest. I figured he'd never met a deaf person before.

Once the rope ladder was tied to the rail, I climbed aboard. Kell and Chief followed me and explained to everyone what was happening. Finally, three other men boarded the ship. Watching them standing there, I began to worry. If they decided to take control of the vessel, we wouldn't be able to stop them.

Or was I just being paranoid? After all, if that was their plan, they would have brought their weapons.

They inspected the deck quickly but thoroughly and went below. Splitting up, they made their way along the corridor, stopping in every cabin.

“My father is in this one,” I said.

Chief nudged the door open but didn't enter straightaway. I could tell he was anxious from the way he peered around the door before pushing it open completely. I waited for the inevitable questions about what had happened to my father, but Chief just bowed his head. “I'm sorry for his injuries,” he said. “Voyages take a toll on all of us.”

He closed the door behind him and leaned in close. “Is he the worst off, Thomas?”

“Yes,” I said. “Everyone else is just exhausted.”

As Kell caught up to us, he shifted his weight from foot to foot like a tethered animal straining against a rope. With a single nod, Chief unleashed him, and he continued his inspection of the rooms to either side of the corridor.

Finally, we reached Dare's cabin. The door was locked, of course, and Kell didn't force it. “What's in here?” asked Chief.

I didn't want to jeopardize our situation, but if I let him in, the others would know what I'd been hiding from them. How would Rose respond? Ananias?

“We don't know,” I answered.

Both men responded with quizzical, doubting looks. “It's at the stern,” said Chief patiently. “It's likely to be the captain's cabin. But you've never seen it?”

“We don't have a key.” I tried to stay calm as a lie took shape in my mind. “Our captain, Kyte, fell overboard a week ago. We were never allowed in, and the key seems to have been lost with him.”

Kell obviously had more questions, but Rose had joined us now. “Thomas is telling the truth,” she said. “My father is lost to the sea, and that door has always been locked.”

There was a long silence. Chief faced the corridor, no doubt mulling over everything we'd said and deciding how much to trust us. Finally, he turned to me and gave a tired smile. “Tell everyone they're free to disembark. We can offer a little food, and water is plentiful. We'll also administer aid to you as we are able.”

He strode away, Kell in his wake.

“Thank you,” I said. Then louder: “Thank you so much.”

Chief acknowledged me with a raised hand, but didn't say a word. It seemed impossible, but the few of us that remained were going to be all right. As if to emphasize how perfect everything was, Rose twined her fingers with mine. My pulse was slow and my body was relaxed, and she didn't pull away.

R
escuing my father from the cage had been difficult; getting him ashore was almost as hard. Kell strapped a harness to him and with Ananias's help, they lowered him into a waiting cutter. People on the battlements watched it all unfold. They must have realized that we'd be a burden on their colony until everyone returned to full health.

If that ever happened.

With everyone ashore, Griffin and I tethered the cutter to the jetty and approached the main gate. Even though we were on solid ground, I imagined I could still feel the earth undulating beneath my feet, as if I carried the ocean with me.

I kept Griffin close by. I figured that most of the Sumter colonists wouldn't have met a deaf person before. He kept his head low, eyes peering through matted hair. The canvas bag he carried on his back looked heavy.

Need. Help?
I asked.

He shook his head and pulled the strap higher.

The fort's brick walls, striking from the harbor, seemed to grow more imposing with every step. Even the main door looked impregnable: solid wood, oak perhaps. It was small and well sealed, not a barrier against humans but something altogether smaller.

Rats.

Inside the fort, the harbor breeze ceased and the air smelled musty. I stood in the shade of the giant battlements and realized, finally, that this was our new home. It was the reason we'd undertaken the voyage, but until now, I'd been half afraid it might not exist at all. Now I remained rooted to the spot, savoring the quiet.

The door closed, startling me. It filled the space of the frame precisely, as impregnable as the rest of the fort.

“Impressive place, isn't it,” said Chief, joining us. Ananias was right behind him. “So old, but as strong as ever. A simple design too: a pentagon, pointing to the north.” He gestured to a large two-story black building about thirty yards away. “That's the battery. Runs the full width of the fort—divides it into two parts. On the other side is the esplanade. This area in front of us are the parade grounds.”

I checked that I'd heard him correctly. “Parade grounds?”

“It's a military term. An old-world thing.” He smiled. “The children want me to change the name, but I won't. I think it's important to keep a connection to the past. Especially when the future's so bleak.”

Chief led us to the middle of the parade grounds. “To the right there are the barracks,” he said, indicating a maze of crumbling walls. “Used to house officers, back when the fort was in military use. We have a rainwater harvester over there now. It's where we clean clothes, tools . . . even ourselves. There are a couple holes in the ground for toilets too. Everything runs through a sewer, but if you can wait for high tide we'd all appreciate it. The place can get pretty smelly otherwise.” He chuckled to himself.

I took a moment to point things out to Griffin. He was as fascinated as I knew he'd be.

“He's deaf,” said Chief when I finished.

“Yes. Do you have any deaf people here?”

“No. One of the founding members of the colony was deaf, but he passed on many years ago.” He turned around to face the main gate. “Those cave-like rooms inside the perimeter wall are casemates. The ones to either side of the main gate are used for storage now. You'll see a few of the old cannons too, still dotted around the place. They used to take out ships as they entered Charleston Harbor.”

“Not a very friendly welcome.”

He laughed at that. “What can I say? Times have changed.”

“Not completely,” said Alice, eyes narrowed. “Your men still carry guns.”

Rose's mother inhaled sharply. I wondered if Tarn would make Alice apologize, but one look at her daughter's defiant expression and she wisely let it pass.

There was a brief hesitation, and then Chief acknowledged Alice with a slight nod. “That's true. We're committed to the preservation of humanity at all costs. Human life is fragile, and I've sworn to do whatever it takes to protect those in my care.” He cleared his throat. “If I'd found Plague on your ship, I would have asked you to leave. Had you resisted, I would have ordered my men to make you leave. However, you were honest with us, and you're under our protection now.” He signaled for Kell to join us. “Tell the men to store their weapons. We'll have no need of them anymore.”

Kell turned abruptly and the men fell in line behind him. They marched straight for the battery, following a shallow channel worn into the dirt, kicking up dust clouds with every step.

Meanwhile, Chief watched Alice from the corner of his eye. “She was your sister . . . the girl who died?”

Alice nodded.

“And your daughter,” he added, turning to Tarn.

“Yes,” she said. “How do you know?”

“Grief looks the same everywhere, I think. And there's been so much of it over the past eighteen years.” Chief bowed his head. “I am so sorry for your loss. There's no explaining the world we live in now. There's only the vague hope that we can make the future brighter than the past.”

Kell and his men were climbing one of the staircases that hugged the walls. They entered a room with no windows.

Chief followed my eyes. “It's an imposing building, the battery, but you'll get used to it. We sleep in dormitories, although it'll probably take us a day to clear out a room for all of you. In the winter months, we stay inside more—store tools there; eat inside too. But fall has barely started, so you'll be all right for one night outdoors, right? The casemates have roofs. You can sleep in one of those.”

“They all look as if they're being used,” I said.

“Most of them are, yes. But we'll find space for you. It's just one night, Thomas.”

I hadn't meant to sound critical or ungrateful. I needed to watch my words. I was going to have to let someone else speak up too. Even though Marin and Tarn were there, Chief was addressing me as if I were in charge, not the Guardians.

“Here, let me show you,” Chief continued, softer now.

As several Sumter colonists carried my father to a casemate, Chief led us to the north wall. Some of the casemates here were so deep that parts of them were totally dark. Every now and again I'd catch a flicker of movement. I tried to make out faces but couldn't. Even the people who risked a glance our way gave awkward smiles, as if they weren't used to seeing strangers.

“Look over here,” said Chief. “This is one of our vegetable gardens. Rainwater is collected above us and sent through pipes to the barrels against the wall over there. Talking of walls, they help us regulate how much direct sun the plants get. They protect everything from the salt breeze too. In the winter, the bricks absorb the sun's heat, and keep the area unseasonably warm. One frost and we'd lose the plants, but we've never had a problem with that. We can grow kale, collard greens, yams . . .” He broke off. “Forgive me. I'm getting ahead of myself. You'll have time to learn all this.”

As he spoke, a small group of men filled jugs from one of the barrels. They added a precise amount of water to a series of plants arranged in a row. When they were satisfied, they emptied the leftover water back into the barrel. Nothing was wasted.

“So your diet is mostly vegetables?” asked Ananias.

“No. We fish too: flounder . . . red drum, if we're lucky. We mostly stick to the harbor, so there's less risk of attracting sharks.” He pointed to the south. “There's also a piece of land outside the fort walls—the peninsula, we call it. We keep chickens, and there's an enclosure with goats. We have eggs and milk. We make cheese. This isn't paradise, but I'd be amazed if there's another colony that runs halfway as well as ours.”

He was right about that. It wasn't just their ingenuity but also the way the colonists worked together. Kyte had kept strict control of everything on Hatteras, but that wasn't the same. Where we'd been at odds for at least a year, these people acknowledged each other with respectful gestures.

While I admired their togetherness, Dennis continued to take stock of the fort itself. “What was this place?” he asked.

Chief gave a tight-lipped smile. “A long time ago, a civil war began right here in Fort Sumter. Such a large country ours, and so many people, all forced to choose a side: north or south. By the end, six hundred and twenty thousand people had died; two out of every hundred people.” He paused to let the words sink in. “And it all started here.”

We were silent then. It wasn't hard to imagine the ghosts of men who had stood on this exact spot, wondering if things would ever be normal again. Or to imagine that someone might be standing here in another hundred years, wondering the very same thing.

“Our rules are simple,” Chief continued. “Everything is shared; everyone is equal. We bore witness to the end of the world, but those words have kept us alive. We welcome those who wish to count themselves survivors too. But we cannot make room for any who put themselves above the whole.”

A snapping sound to my right made me jerk around. Kell stood there, a wooden crossbow raised in line with his eyes. But there was no arrow. As he lowered the weapon, I followed his line of sight to a gull bleeding onto the ground about twenty yards away. The timing of his shot didn't feel coincidental, either. It was as if he was warning us what might happen if we couldn't follow the colony's simple rules.

“You'll clean that, Miriam,” commanded Chief, finger pointed at a young woman walking nearby. “Our guests will be hungry.”

Miriam hesitated. “But Chief, we shouldn't—”

He raised a hand, silencing her. “They are malnourished and weak. We won't prolong their suffering when we have the means to fix it.”

Miriam bowed deeply and walked briskly to the gull. By the time she reached it, Ananias was already there. He grabbed the bird by the neck and pulled out the arrow in a sharp movement. When he handed the bird to the woman, she wrapped it in a fold of her apron.

Ananias admired the arrow. He ran a finger across the tip and cleaned blood off the shaft with his tunic, leaving an angry red streak across his chest. “You waste nothing, right?” He held out the arrow, forcing Kell to come to him.

Like an animal sizing up its prey, Kell approached slowly, eyes fixed on Ananias. “I think we've just found us a hunter, Chief,” he said as he claimed the arrow. He nodded to himself, over and over. “Oh, yeah. Him and me are going to have some fun.”