Outpost (18 page)

“I know who you are,” he said. “I reckon everyone does.”

Unsure of how to take his comment, I slid him a sidelong glance. “Oh?”

He offered a reassuring smile. “You have your detractors, miss, but I’m not one of them. We could use a little more bravery in Salvation.”

“Thank you.” I didn’t know what else to say.

I wasn’t used to elders being kind when they didn’t want something. Any moment, I expected him to order me to do something awful, for that had been my experience in the past. But he only walked in silence, eyes trained on the trees that grew closer with each footstep. Dread ratcheted up. I didn’t like dividing our forces, but I understood the need for a lookout post. That would permit greater weapon range for the rifleman on watch and even better vantage for distant threats.

Providing we survived this task.

The idea was for us to cut a young tree, small enough that two of us could haul it back on the ropes wrapped around our shoulders, which would be knotted into a type of harness. I didn’t know how to do that but the older guards did. What they lacked in combat prowess, they made up in other skills.

“Would you steady for me?” Hobbs asked. I must have looked blank because he explained, “Hold the tree while I saw it down.”

“Oh. Of course.”

I cast a glance at Fade, but another guard had already conscripted him. He nodded to show he was all right, and I hoped his back wasn’t bothering him much. I’d packed some salve in my things, so if I got a chance later, I’d apply another coat, but I had to be careful how much attention I paid him. The tentative peace Longshot had imposed with his barked order for equal treatment wouldn’t last long if the guards caught Fade and me acting like lovesick fools.

The forest rose to meet us, thorny brambles barring the way. With muffled curses, the men cut them back. I followed their lead, as they had greater physical strength. If Freaks attacked, I would leap to their defense, but it didn’t make sense for me to clear brush when they were better at it. I’d done some sneaking in the woods with Stalker during our journey north, but we’d never created any paths. I certainly didn’t know anything about cutting trees.

Within, the wood was shady and cool despite the morning brightness, green-cast shadows tinting our skin in sickly hues. Movement in the branches overhead reassured me. The birds protested our incursion with squawks and chastening chatter. I ignored their outrage and followed Hobbs to a likely tree—slim and supple, but not too heavy for us to manage.

“Put your hands here,” he told me, “and hold tight.”

I did as he ordered; this was something at which I excelled. For my whole life, I had done as the elders told me. Pity they didn’t know much about the world. This was a mindless task, so mine wandered, stealing down little-examined memories. I remembered the exiles—those sent on the long walk—and I fought down the spike of pain. When it kept happening, I should have known they were sacrifices to needless devotion to custom, not true lawbreakers. So far, I didn’t detect the same blind obedience in Salvation, but there was enough zealotry to make me nervous.

Hobbs drew his saw repeatedly across the tree. At first, I thought he’d invented my role because the trunk didn’t seem to need steadying, but as he cut deeper, it listed, and I applied myself to keeping it still. He inclined his head to show his approval of my work. I heard only the normal animal noises in addition to the grind of metal on wood, so I was reassured that no Freaks lurked nearby.

They might be deeper in the forest,
I thought.
If there are any left.

So far, we hadn’t seen signs of their presence
. They might have moved on, gone seeking easier prey.
As Longshot had mentioned, briefly, the night he rescued us, established trade routes ran between each town, and during the fall, wagons ran fairly often. In the cold months, they traveled only in an emergency. Longshot’s presence, therefore, on that wintry night had been even more of a miracle than I’d initially realized. He had gone to trade for medicine, among other supplies, in Appleton, hoping to stave off an epidemic; he’d volunteered for the dangerous mission, just as he had this one, and I thought he was the best elder that I’d ever encountered. He’d told me he didn’t have anyone waiting for him at home, so I figured that was why. Longshot believed it was better he take the risk than some family man.

At length, the trees fell and we lashed them into the harnesses. I took one rope and Hobbs took the other. It was harder than it looked, but the fields were still quiet when we returned. Some men had occupied themselves leveling the top of the hill in preparation for the construction. Others had laid out the supplies that would be needed, including hammer and nails.

It took many trips and half the day before we could start building. Longshot supervised the work, telling men who had little experience in such things how to put the tower together. By nightfall, we had a primitive structure in place, made of raw cut logs, and the first sentry went up to stand watch on the platform.

“Tomorrow,” the outpost commander called, “we’ll start collecting stones. I want fortifications around this encampment in the next two weeks.”

After the evening meal, I sought Longshot. He was savoring a cup of herbal tea, which wafted a sweet, agreeable steam in the night air. Though it was warm during the day, it dropped off cool at night, and I wrapped my blanket around my shoulders as I sat down beside him. Maybe I should have waited for an invitation, I thought belatedly, but he wasn’t the sort of elder who inspired terror. Instead, I felt only a profound and abiding respect. If he ordered me to cut off my foot and feed it to the Freaks, I would obey him, trusting that it would forestall a worse fate.

“Something on your mind?” he asked without looking at me.

“It’s been quiet,” I said instead of what I wanted to talk about.

“You’re not gonna start whinin’, are you?”

“No, it’s smart to establish an outpost here. But I suspect the Freaks are biding their time or maybe rallying greater numbers.”

“You and me both.” He took a sip of his drink. “Now, why don’t you come on out with whatever you need to say?”

“If we’re overrun, these men need to know how to fight better, hand-to-hand.” He nodded, so thus encouraged, I went on, “They wouldn’t welcome lessons from me, but we should be training. You could do it … or Stalker and Fade. They’re both excellent with their blades.”

He allowed: “We do need discipline … and a regimen like that would cut down on the time and energy left for complaints. I’ll see what I can do in the morning.”

“Thanks.” I pushed to my feet, content that these guards wouldn’t always be so unskilled. That affected me because they were watching my back, and if they couldn’t do it properly, then it increased my chance of an untimely death.

“You and Hobbs have second watch,” he told me.

Disappointment curled through me, because I did wish it could be Fade, but I understood and respected the decision. With Hobbs, there was absolutely no chance either of us would get distracted and neglect our duty. Plus, he was practical and polite, not making a big stink about working with me. Hobbs had my respect.

Mealtime offered no surprises. Everyone was sick of the soup, but it was still edible. As we finished the pot, I realized someone had to come up with an alternative, but since Fade and I had already taken a turn cooking, it wasn’t our problem again for another two weeks or so. By that time, the shoots should be coming up, proving our presence had been worthwhile.

I didn’t mind eating the same thing over and over, though. Down below, we did so on a daily basis and called ourselves lucky to have meat … and on the road, we’d eaten rabbit and fish without much variation. So I had an advantage over those who were used to sheep and venison and the occasional roast bird; I hadn’t been in Salvation long enough to forget that such bounty was a blessing, not a right.

Though I tried, desperately, to sleep, I couldn’t, for fear I would miss my watch. It wasn’t a reasonable worry, but it cast me back in time to the night before my first Huntress patrol with Fade. Tonight, my nerves held the same ragged edge, as if I were on the verge of something exciting and new. Rationally, I understood that wouldn’t be the case. I’d stood watch before. So instead I listened to the guards on duty whispering; they didn’t seem to care if they bothered the others.

Hobbs tapped me on the shoulder when our shift began. I scrambled out of my bedroll with a nod of thanks while the other two guards made their report in low tones. “Nothing moved, not even a jackrabbit.”

“Good news,” Hobbs said. “We’ll take it from here.”

I sat by the fire with Hobbs across from me; we stared in different directions, time passing like it had frozen solid. Hobbs and I didn’t talk because the others were asleep. Most of them snored. Stalker lay nearby, almost as if watching over me, and he kept one hand on his knife. He was right, I suspected; I had more in common with him than Fade, but that was the problem. We were
too
much alike.

At last our shift ended. Hobbs gave the report—same as the one before, all quiet—and two new guards took over. Afterward, I rolled up in my blanket, lying there while sleep eluded me. I’d just managed to drift off when something roused me. A sound, a smell? I drifted, half wakeful, eyes blurring the dark sky with their slow blinking. Movement nearby reassured me. It should be the guards on watch shifting positions to stay alert, but instead, I had the impression of a dark figure. Shining eyes flickered past, sunken in the ravaged face. It was a visage from nightmares, a Freak seen too close up, only if there had been one in camp, it would surely be dead … or we would be. I must be dreaming.

I sat up cautiously, expecting to find I was suffering from a lingering nightmare, but the camp was still.
Too
still. The two men who were supposed to stand third watch had fallen asleep. In the distance, running away, I saw that same tattered form, clad in rags. The stink was less than I expected from Freaks, just a trace of rot, but the fact that a Freak had slipped like a shadow into our camp? That wasn’t what concerned me most.

No, big trouble came in the form of the flaming brand the creature carried.

“Wake up!” I shouted, kicking the guard who should have been our sentry.

He jolted away with a curse, and he came up swinging, but he was doltish and clumsy. I dodged.

“Take a look out there. What do you see?” I demanded.

He squinted into the distance. “Naught but a will o’ the wisp, you stupid—” Fade’s hand clamped on his throat, silencing him, and he didn’t let go until the other man’s face went purple. I tried to get him to stand down, but he had no tolerance for men messing with me or calling me names.

Seeing the situation going from bad to worse, I roused Longshot. He came awake fully alert and scanned the terrain behind me. “What’s wrong?”

I summarized what had happened and he frowned at me. “You expect me to believe a single Freak sneaked up on us … and stole fire?”

His skepticism didn’t insult me. If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I wouldn’t credit the story either. With one hand, I indicated the guard I’d woken. “He saw the light receding in the distance, going away into the trees. Ask him.”

The man hunched his shoulders. Belatedly, I realized it was the same one who had made the joke about what else I was good for, besides cooking. He hadn’t done himself any favors by failing his duties on watch.

“It was just a will o’ the wisp.”

“Would you swear to that?” Longshot asked, shoving upright.

There was a long silence. “No.”

“You’re digging the latrine in the morning, Miles, you and your partner. That thing—if it was a Freak—could have cut all our throats as we slept.”

It could have. It hadn’t. Though it was still the middle of the night, I paced, worry eating me from the inside out. Who the devil knew what they’d do with that lit branch? Maybe it would go out. Maybe nothing bad would happen.

How I wished I believed that.

As their attacks had shown, they grew more dangerous all the time. Hunger no longer predicted their movements. These Freaks had enough to eat with all the game in the woods. Big game, like deer and moose, offered plenty of raw meat. I’d sampled both at Momma Oaks’s table. For them, this was no longer about food.

It was something else. Something scarier.

Recon

For the next week—as we built fortifications and put up tents—the others treated me with a combination of anger and distrust. The bulk of the ill feeling came from Gary Miles, who felt I’d gotten him in trouble over nothing. Half the squad agreed with him, as we’d seen nothing the following nights. They thought I was a hysterical female who’d had a bad dream due to sleeping outdoors. I couldn’t swear to what I’d witnessed, of course, but however unlikely, my version of events was more probable than what Miles claimed—that we’d seen some magical ball of light, believed to be spirits who came out at night to lure people to their doom.

More alarming, the Freaks had been ominously silent since that sighting. I turned the event over and over in my head, wondering if I’d gotten it wrong. During the daylight, it seemed so implausible. Freaks didn’t sneak, but then, until recently, they hadn’t posted warnings, and they hadn’t used camouflage either. Their cunning made their behavior more difficult to predict—and it made them harder to fight.

No, I was right. It happened. The only question came in terms of their intentions … what they would do with the flame they’d stolen.

“This is duller than I expected,” Stalker said, dropping down beside me, where I sat sharpening my blades. I was glad he seemed to have put the awkward personal stuff behind him. I wanted to be his friend.

“It’s waiting,” I answered. “Which is, by definition, boring.”

“We should go looking for them. Root them out.”

Stalker had suggested it before, and Longshot always rejected the notion. He’d say, “We have orders to guard these fields, and by the devil, that’s what we’ll do. I don’t care if that forest has a Mutie in every tree. We’ll leave them alone as long as they return the courtesy.”