Lethal Seasons (A Changed World Book 1) (11 page)

“As the population had dispersed, it eventually began to drift back together. Human beings are hardwired to form families, tribes and clans. Before the med centers were established, people came together around a central unit such as a train station or church. Small groups eventually coalesced into communities. Without a national oversight and no way to track people, the possibilities for inbreeding becomes worrisome.”

History of a Changed World
, Angus T. Moss

Wisp could tell that the men wished to confer without him present, and yet didn't want him wandering around on his own. “Is there a place where I could dress this wound?” he asked.

Angus's curiosity snapped into annoyance. “Nicky, why didn't you say he'd been injured? And look at you. Is that blood in your hair? You must go down to the infirmary at once.”

“Doctors don't treat my kind,” Wisp said. He felt the need to offer them a way out. An option to turn him away.

“Nonsense.” Angus waved it away. “We treat horses and chickens and people.”

“You have chickens?” Wisp asked.

“I will give you a tour once you're patched up.” Angus eyed his bloody bandana. “That doesn't look very sanitary. Off you go.”

Nick led him down the hall. Wisp looked up at the sunlight pouring in through the skylights. Nearby a group of elders sitting together, with busy hands, felt content. Somewhere children were playing. A scent of food cooking wafted by on the cooled air of the hallway.”This is a good settlement.”

“Thanks. Angus started it. He's the beating heart of it.”

“A very kind man.”

Nick stopped, head down, arms folded. Questions boiled around him. He hesitated to ask and yearned so badly to know. “Ask,” Wisp said.

“
Can
you read minds?”

“Sometimes in the proper circumstances. But I am a trained observer. Sometimes I can intuit a want or a question. That isn't telepathy. It's a study of body language and micro expressions.”

“Who trained you?”

Wisp hesitated for a second. He felt he should trust Nick. “Ten years of hiding.”

Nick gave him a quick nod, the corner of his mouth curling in chagrin. He stared at Wisp, not ready to let go of his abiding concerns. “What are the proper circumstances?”

“I spend most of my time trying to keep people
out
of my head.” He paused, waiting for the words to register with Nick. “Imagine a crowded room with everyone talking at the same time. You can't hear the words, but you can feel the sentiment. This one's angry, that one's happy, or hungry or in pain. That's the way it feels when I am around a group of people.” Wisp wasn't sure if that helped Nick. His curiosity hadn't dimmed a bit. “Even up close, singled out, with time and quiet, I can't hear more than a person is willing to share.”

“Really.” Nick didn't sound like he believed him.

“When we were speaking of terms—built, cooked, printed—Martin had a memory. It was charged with high emotion. He'd been at a lab, probably not long after the riots. I saw what he saw and felt his disgust. The conversation triggered a powerful image. He relived that moment and sort of broadcasted it. But I don't know how, or why he was there. I don't know if he destroyed the lab or fought to defend it. He could have been a bomber or search and rescue. I have a single image out of context, wrapped in reaction. It tells me nothing. Like walking past a man on the street and hearing a piece of a conversation.”

“Huh.” Nick continued down the hall with a gesture for Wisp to follow. Wisp could tell Nick wasn't fully satisfied, but his distrust was simmering down into a gradual acceptance.

Wisp saw a doctor, who didn't seem the least bit upset at working on a biobot. He was competent, quickly cleaning and closing the wound. Then Nick showed him the guest quarters, the showers and the cafeteria. Wisp's pack had been left on the bed in one of the small rooms. It appeared to be another lecture hall broken into smaller spaces. It was sparingly furnished with a bed, desk and armchair.”You have a lot of guests?”

“A few traders. And we put newcomers here until we decide if they belong,” Nick said. He leaned against the doorway as Wisp looked through his pack to see what they'd taken.

“And if you decide against them?”

“Haven't had to cross that bridge yet.”

Wisp found everything was still in his pack. That meant they were fairly honest and not overly paranoid. “Am I required to stay here?”

Nick blinked at him in surprise. “No. But why not?”

Wisp tapped his temple. “Too many people. Although I would gladly take advantage of your showers and cafeteria, I can't stay in this building. I am too used to the quiet of isolation.”

“We've got a field house. Just some chickens and the horse down there. It's safe.”

“I would like to see it.”

Nick glanced at an ornate clock hanging above the desk. “I want a shower, too. And clean clothes. I'll meet you back here in about an hour?”

Wisp nodded. He wanted to trust Nick. He'd like to stay and answer questions for Angus. The settlement seemed like a very pleasant place to live, but they had no defenses. A couple of armed men on the road seemed woefully inadequate. If the mercenaries figured out who had taken the children, they'd come here. Wisp listened to the river of emotion in the settlement. There was a sweet top note of contentment. He thought back to the keening despair that had bludgeoned him at Riverbank. He didn't want that to happen here.

“The economy failed, and not many people noticed. Jobs, salaries, working for a living made an about face. When your day is filled with disposing of the dead, priorities change.”

History of a Changed World
, Angus T. Moss

Nick stood under the pounding hot water for an indecent amount of time. There was more than just dirt to wash away. He wanted to eradicate the dead bodies, the blood, the gunfire. It wasn't going to vanish under the water the way mud could be sluiced down the drain. He shut the taps with an angry twist. Things had been just about perfect. High Meadow had food and water and storm shutters. The people here were as normal as could be now a days. He enjoyed going off looking for clues for Angus. It had been a quiet idle. Now he had to think about rogue armies and sick bastards who hurt children.

He pulled on a clean shirt and since he was home, some shorts. “Just a couple days,” he mumbled.

“For what?” Jean stood in the doorway, a curious smile on her face. She was also freshly showered and dressed in the ubiquitous cotton slacks and tee shirts that the train stations stocked from time to time.

He frowned at her, wondering how long she'd been watching him dress. Clean and rested, she looked like a different person from the one he’d seen bound and gagged at Riverbank. It struck him that she was young, mid-twenties, and rather attractive. Her hair was a curly, black cap and her brown eyes were almond-shaped giving her an exotic look. Nick tried to place her looks—Asian and something, or Polynesian, maybe some Indian. She raised an eyebrow, and he realized his scrutiny had become obvious. “A couple of day to rest,” he said with a sigh. “Without guns or guys in black or anybody getting killed.”

Her eyes went hollow. “Only a couple?” She licked her lips and swallowed. “You think they'll come here?”

“I don't know how they'd know who took the children. We should be safe, but it would be sheer stupidity not to prepare.”

“I'm sorry.”

“It's not your fault.”

“Wisp will know. He'll tell us. He did it before. Twice, in fact. He rounded up the fishermen and some kids in the woods when some bandits came by. He felt them coming and warned us.”

“And you believed him?”

Jean gave him a confused frown. “He was right. He's always helped us.”

“How long have you known him?” Something wasn't adding up. “You guys haven't been there that long.”

“Oh,” a relieved smile softened her face. “Bruno's known him for awhile. Met him while he was looking for a new place. Our old settlement got kind of...weird. Wisp showed him the factory.” She dropped her eyes to the floor. “He's really a finder. That's why Bruno said it was okay to send those bastards to him.”

“What?” Nick was shocked. “You told them about Lily?”

“We knew they'd never find him.”

“How could you know that?”

“Because he's Wisp. How do you think he got that name? I've seen him disappear in the middle of the road in broad daylight. Bruno said it. More than a whisper but less than a ghost. Like a wisp of fog when the sun comes up. We knew he'd protect the child. And we knew he'd escape.”

“Then why did they torture Bruno and his son?”

“Because Wisp was too good at disappearing.” Jean sagged against the doorway. “They were so angry when they came back and said his place was empty. They thought we were hiding him. I was glad they didn't get the little girl. I think we all hoped that somehow Wisp would know we were in trouble and come back to help us.” Tears slid down her face. “And he did.”

Nick didn't want to tell her it was a coincidence. That if they'd taken another route, Wisp wouldn't have felt the trouble. “I'm sorry we didn't get there sooner.”

She forced a smile. “I know there's a story there. He never had a car before. Or guns like that. And I know now that they aren't yours, either.”

“Yeah, there's a story. Let's go sit—”

“Bruno asked for you,” she cut him off.

“Sure.” Nick gestured for her to lead the way. They returned to the infirmary in silence. He didn't need to wonder where her thoughts wandered. She wiped tears away as they walked.

“The government spent a lot of energy on trying to relocate people. Perhaps they used up their assets in the endeavor. When things were most grim, the government went silent.”

History of a Changed World, Angus T. Moss

By the time they got to the infirmary, Bruno was asleep. The nurse said they had him on pain meds. Jean looked lost. Nick felt bad for her. Margaret and her offspring had been absorbed into the tribe of other mothers at the settlement. They had a place with people who understood them. Lily and William had been easily pulled under their wings. Jean was neither mother nor wounded. It put her in the awkward position of unexpected houseguest.

“Are you and Bruno...” Nick made a vague gesture, unsure of where he was going with the question.

“No.” Jean shook her head. “It wasn't like that. I'm actually kind of new to the group. But he was good to me. Took me in and let me stay.” She stared at the floor as a long minute unfurled between them.

“I promised to take Wisp down to the field house, would you like to come along?”

“Yes.”

Nick gave her an encouraging smile and led her out of the infirmary.

Wisp was standing in the hallway outside his room when they approached. Nick waved him over. Wisp nodded to Jean. She sighed and tried to speak, then tightened her lips.

“I'm sorry.” Wisp said in a gentle voice. Nick noticed that he didn’t touch her. In fact, he moved a little away from her, too much emotion too close for comfort, maybe.

“Me, too,” she said in a shaky voice.

Nick took them out into the heat of the day. He pointed out the grain fields and the vegetable plots. “We're still trying to figure out the right percentages. We got a potato harvest that lasted a couple weeks, but the beets lasted months. And we never seem to have enough wheat.”

“But you're growing real food,” Jean said, a note of wonder in her voice.

“Yeah. We were lucky. There's a hardware store in town that had racks of seeds. Most of them were too old, but we got some. And I was able to barter for some, too. Now we have to save our own. It hasn't been easy. We don't have a farmer among us.”

“I'll help,” she said.

“All help is welcome. What kind of skills have you got?” Nick asked. He led them along the sidewalk toward the back of the fields.

“Oh.” Jean's shoulders slumped. “Nothing really. I mean, at Riverbank they needed everything, you know? I did whatever needed doing. But I don't have any sort of skills.”

“What did you do before Zero Year?” Nick asked. He didn’t usually pry, but thought maybe she wanted to talk.

“I worked for a...” she paused to breathe, swallow more tears, “...one of those companies that don't exist anymore. Data entry. Just punching numbers for a paycheck.”

“Jean is a hard worker,” Wisp said. “She is strong and diligent.”

“Great.” Nick squeezed her shoulder. “Look around. Take your time. Try different things. You'll find something that you like.”

“Thanks.”

Nick led them down to an area that was newly fenced with stakes and rope. A horse stood in the shade of a building, head hanging. Through a rough coat, his ribs showed.

“Is he sick?” Jean asked.

“Don't know. We haven't got a vet. Martin said he wandered in after the last storm. But if he lasted through the Hoofed Flu, I'd say it's something else. Maybe shock from being out in the weather.”

Wisp ducked under the rope and approached the horse. He put gentle hands on him. “He's pining.”

Nick tried to hide his surprise. “For what?”

Wisp looked out over the meadow toward a line of trees. “His herd.”

“There's more?” Jean asked, excitement in her voice.

“More what?” Martin arrived with two men of the Watch in tow. Nick thought it was more than coincidence. “Where's he going?” They watched Wisp trot across the meadow toward a buffer of trees. “That area's not safe.”

“Why not?” Jean asked.

“There's a brook on the other side of those trees. Floods with every storm. It's undermining the roots. A stiff breeze could bring those trees down. We don't let any of the kids in there.”

Nick headed out after Wisp. “Better tell him.” His movement acted like a magnet, bringing all the others trailing behind him. They walked across the meadow and into the slightly cooler shade of the trees. Nick saw a flicker of movement and worked his way through the undergrowth in that direction.

Wisp stood on a fallen tree, with his back to them, looking down the bank to the water. Nick called to him and a horse's neigh answered. Nick led the scramble to the edge of the bank. Below them a good ten feet, fallen trees and a minor mudslide had trapped three horses. They were muddy and dull eyed. And it broke his heart to see their weak struggles. “They'll die in there.”

Martin sent one of the men back for power tools and more people. “We'll need to build a path, maybe some kind of ramp.”

Wisp was gathering weeds and grasses and dumping them over the edge to the starving animals. Jean joined him, pulling handfuls of greenery. Nick watched the horses. They were so badly stressed and the presence of strangers wasn't helping. “They're terrified.”

Wisp shook his head. “No. They're uneasy, but they are used to people. Not wild animals. Their hunger is topmost. They can put up with unreasonable restraint if there is food.”

Nick went over to Martin, who was climbing around the site. “What do you think?”

Martin pointed to the trees that had fallen like pickup sticks. “We'll need to cut through a couple of these. Maybe we can build up the dirt here, cut down into the bank there...”

Nick saw a whole day of work with no profit. The horses were basically large pets. They didn't produce food or energy or security. They would require food the settlement didn't have and care no one knew how to give.

“You're wrong,” Wisp said quietly. “You can use them for security. A mounted guard moves faster than a man running in rough terrain. And the manure would be good for the crops.”

“You read my mind,” Nick grumbled.

“You feel disapproving.”

“One more thing to take on. Another thing we don't know how to do.”

“They came from somewhere.” Wisp moved past Nick, negotiating slippery steps down to the edge of the water. “Upstream, probably. There must be a farm. Maybe there are people who know how to care for them.”

Nick looked back to the horses. A group of people came through the trees. They carried tools and rope and some had armloads of freshly cut grass. The lone horse in the meadow called high and longing. The trapped horses called back weakly.

“Martin,” Nick shouted to him. “We're going to take a look.” He pointed a thumb over his shoulder.

Martin looked puzzled. “Be careful!”

Wisp was already down in the creek bed when Nick turned back. He slid down the muddy, mossy bank into the water. In another couple weeks, this would go totally dry.

Wisp turned to him, a slight smile on his face. “He doesn't doubt your abilities.”

Nick snorted. “Yes, he does.”

“You're reading it wrong. Martin considers you irreplaceable. He has a high aversion for your job. He doesn't want to have to take it on himself.”

“Huh. Good to know,” Nick grumbled. But he felt a secret glee at knowing Martin didn't think he could do Nick’s job.

They hiked through ankle high water or from boulder to boulder. Every now and then, Wisp would stop, close his eyes and get very still. When he did that, Nick tried to empty his mind, hoping that would take him off Wisp's radar.

Twenty minutes later, they found the carcass of a dead horse. It was halfway down the bank, crushed under a massive tree. Nick and Wisp had to climb through the branches to continue up the river. Once on the other side, Wisp headed up the opposite bank. Many of the trees had come down, making a steep climb almost impenetrable. By the time they got to the top, Nick was muddy to the waist and dripping sweat. They came out in a horse pasture. The fencing had all been knocked down. More trees had fallen here. In the distance, he could see the wreckage of a couple buildings. Nick followed Wisp across the pasture to the rubble.

“Someone is here.”

“Is that good or bad?”

“I feel no ill intent.”

Wisp led him around the pile of wood that might have been a barn to the remains of an old house. The upper floor was missing. An ancient stone foundation stood with a make shift lean-to built within.

“Hello?” Nick called out.

An old man made his way slowly up the uneven steps, a shotgun loose in his hands. “What do you want? Nothing here for you.”

“We've come to ask your help,” Wisp said. Nick looked at him in surprise. The old man was scrawny and dirty. He was limping, obviously in pain. And equally obviously the one that needed help. But he followed Wisp’s lead.

“I can't help anyone.”

“We found some horses,” Nick said.

“My boys? You found my boys? And Molly?”

“They're trapped in the river. We're working on getting them out now. But the settlement doesn't know about horses. We need someone to tell us what to do.”

“They're mine!”

“Of course. But they're half starved and hurt from being washed down the river. Once we get them out, shouldn't they rest a little before they come back here?”

Nick didn't need Wisp's skills to see the old man's sadness. His shoulders slumped and the gun slid down. This place was destroyed, no longer safe for man nor beast. Nick moved forward slowly. “I'm Nick.”

“Harley,” the old man said holding out a hand in his general direction. Nick took it, noting that Harley was probably blind.

“Can you come back to the settlement with us?” Nick asked.

“Settlement? I don't know about that. Don't much care for those places.”

“It's a good one,” Wisp offered. “I've seen a lot. This is better than most.”

“For Molly and the boys?” Nick asked.

“Well, just for them.” Harley limped a few more steps. “Gonna need the tractor. I ain't getting very far with this leg.” He pointed to a recessed garage that held a tractor and a workshop. It spoke to the man's character that his equipment had better housing than he did.

Under Harley's shouted instruction, Nick managed to hook up a wagon to the tractor. Wisp loaded the wagon with hay and all the horse medicines in the shed. Nick got it started and brought it around to the front. He helped Harley into the wagon while Wisp took a look through the lean-to. He came out with empty hands. Nick drove the tractor out to the road, heading for the settlement.