Outpost (19 page)

The men were getting antsy, driven by Stalker’s impatience. There was only so much you could do while walking around patches of ground without losing your mind. The other guards didn’t necessarily want to go after the Freaks, but they were tired of doing nothing. Longshot said we were lucky we hadn’t been annihilated as we built the watchtower. In my opinion, that would’ve been too easy. The Freaks had something worse in mind, something to cripple us and destroy our will to keep watch over these fields. I couldn’t imagine what it might be.

At least Longshot kept his promise and had Stalker and Fade teaching hand-to-hand. Frank showed potential; he had good reflexes and reach. But most men were old enough to resent being taught by boys half their age. That was pure pride, a mistake in our circumstances. They should grasp any advantage for the coming fight.

Stalker drew out his weapons and set to with the whetstone, looking pensive. “If Longshot can’t officially send us, we should see for ourselves.”

“Better to ask forgiveness than permission?” It was the only saying I recalled from my history lessons, but I couldn’t recall who said it or why. I had an idea it was a famous female warrior, though, which made me like the quote more.

“Something like that. You in?”

I shouldn’t. But if we hadn’t been ordered not to go, then it wasn’t exactly like insubordination, a charge Silk loved to harp on time and again. More information to arm ourselves sounded like a good idea. On the other hand, when we were still down below, Fade and I had gone to Nassau strictly for recon purposes, and that information hadn’t helped us at all. If the situations paralleled, we’d be driven out of the summer patrol and maybe from Salvation entirely. Though I didn’t believe Longshot was that sort of elder, I couldn’t be certain.

“Let’s ask Fade.”

Stalker’s lips curled into a sneer. “You won’t make a move without him, huh? That’s embarrassing.”

“No,” I said softly. “It just hurts because you wish it was you.”

The truth could be brutal. He flinched, and then went back to his knives. I put mine down and circled the fire to sit by Fade, who had been watching our whispered conversation with a faint frown. Though he trusted me, he didn’t like Stalker; it was astonishing he hadn’t come over to interrupt.

“Everything all right?” he asked.

“More or less.” I outlined the idea, watching his face to see his true reaction. He had good instincts and since I was conflicted, he could cast the tiebreaking vote.

“We should go,” Fade said.

Surprised rolled through me. I’d expected him to err on the side of caution. There had to be a reason behind his choice, so I waited for him to continue.

“We’ll scout tonight. We’re not on the watch rotation, so it’s our right to give up our sleep, yes?” I nodded, and he went on, “It’s been bothering me ever since you said a Freak crept inside our line. Did it take the wood out of the fire, or did it bring a branch with it?”

I understood why he asked, but I shook my head regretfully. “I wasn’t fully awake until it ran away. I didn’t see.”

“So what’s the verdict?” Stalker asked, joining us.

Fade inclined his head. “It’s on.”

I checked my knives, knowing they were pristine and ready for action. “Longshot will be mad if we stir the Freaks up and draw them back here.”

“Then we make sure they don’t spot us,” Stalker said.

Fade added, “And
if
they do, they don’t reach the outpost alive.”

I asked myself,
What would you do if you sneaked into a camp of sleeping Freaks? Would you slit all their throats?
The answer that emerged made me wonder if I were more of a monster than the creature that stole our fire.
That doesn’t necessarily establish that they’re capable of mercy. Maybe it was just cunning enough to know that stealth was its only chance to survive the theft.

For obvious reasons, it was terrifying to consider what Freaks could do with a burning brand. As far as I knew, they didn’t cook. Mind racing, I considered other alternatives. It hadn’t smelled as rank, so maybe it had been some deformed human, living as an outcast in the dangerous forest. I would love if that were true.

We’d find out shortly, one way or another.

After dark, the three of us crept out of camp without alerting the sentries. Though we were skilled, the guards’ lack of attention to the area alarmed me; they
missed
our departure, and they weren’t even asleep. Longshot needed to hear about this security lapse. Stalker shook his head in disgust as we circled behind the watchtower. By walking along the side of the hill and around, it was possible to use the sentry’s blind spot up top. That weakness needed to be addressed in the morning.

But for tonight, it served our purposes.

Sitting around didn’t suit me, so I was glad to see some action, even if our leader hadn’t directed us to do this.
But he might have,
I reasoned,
if he knew how good the three of us were at moving unseen.
We were all at a disadvantage in the trees, however, as we’d trained on different natural terrain. Stalker was used to creeping through the ruins; both Fade and I had learned our skill underground. I was confident we could disguise our movements beneath normal night noises, though.

I took point, charting a clear path into the forest. The twist of limbs overhead blocked most of the moonlight, but I could see well enough.
This
was where I shone. I could find the places where the thicket was thin. In fact, here it looked as if feet had trod this path often enough to thin the ground cover. I bent and touched my fingers to the damp soil, as if it could answer what had come this way.

In my heart, I feared I knew.

Night birds sang to each other in the trees. Squirrels chattered. As we traveled, I’d learned the names of the creatures whose world I shared. Sometimes I ate them. I always admired them. There was far less life down below, where I had grown up.

From this lower vantage, I saw a way through the tangle of undergrowth. The bushes gave with a whisper of foliage on our skin. I hoped there was no scratchweed nearby. We’d learned the hard way that certain leaves growing near tall trees could inflict the most rotten rash. I didn’t want to cover myself in mud again, and it was all that relieved the awful itching.

Too late for second thoughts.
If we came out of this exploit only with irritated skin, that’d be like no consequences at all.

I pushed forward into a different world. We hadn’t come this deep for timber, reasoning that young trees on the outside would be easier to cut and haul. Natural trepidation bubbled up—not at the darkness, but at being surrounded by so many trees. I found them faintly disquieting, things that lived and seemed to watch, but never moved. It was like being surrounded by a silent army that might, when you least expected, strike you down.

Kneeling, I examined the ground again; and once more, I found signs of frequent passage. I couldn’t make out tracks, but the plants were trampled. Small animals like rabbits and squirrels wouldn’t do this. I glanced at Stalker for confirmation, and he nodded. It went without saying that we’d stay quiet until we found what we were looking for … or until we judged the forest uninhabited.

For good or ill, I decided to follow where this led. I kept my steps slow and gradual, easing over obstacles like fallen branches and logs. It was too early in the year for dead leaves, a factor for which I was grateful, as the ground was soft, making for easier silent travel. We plunged deeper into the woods. I had been told only those hunting meat for the settlement came this deep, so that meant we were doing as we were on target, though we weren’t stalking game. Instead, we were after information, which could offer as much value toward survival in some cases.

My ears perked first.

In the darkness, I heard a low grumble, not a growl, exactly, but like nothing I had ever heard before. At my look, Fade shook his head; he didn’t recognize it either. We’d all heard Freaks scream as they died and their horrid shriek just before attacking, but none of us had ever witnessed them …
communicating
with each other.

It might not be that, of course. Maybe there were animals in here we’d never seen or imagined. But as we drew closer, I became positive that wasn’t the case because the smell kicked in. The deeper we went, the more the woods stank of Freak—rotten meat, unclean flesh, the sickly sweet of a putrid wound. How could they stand each other? But I supposed one got used to anything. When I lived down below, I only noticed the unpleasant smell on bad days, but by contrast, the air Topside smelled of a hundred things—most of them beautiful and fresh as a morning rain.

I went down on my hands, coming in so that I crept along on the soft ground like a four-legged creature myself. Hopefully I would stir the bushes less. My heart thundered in my ears, like the smith banging his anvil. Behind me, I heard the boys’ quick, anxious breathing. I wanted to tell them to be quiet, but if the Freaks couldn’t hear the inhalations, they would hear my voice. So there was nothing for it, but to part the final barrier, and see what we were up against.

It was terrifying. It was a village, a hundred or more Freaks cohabitating in what seemed to be a cooperative manner. Impossible to tell from the movement, from the way they went about their business. They were
building
, these Freaks, and they had a campfire, like ours. So I’d been right, after all. One of them had come to steal our fire because they’d recognized its value. Perhaps they were no longer content to devour their prey fresh from the bloody kill, though some of them still had little compunction about doing so. One Freak brushed past, fearfully close to our hiding place in the bushes, gnawing on what looked like a human arm.

My stomach churned.

They’d constructed lean-tos out of leaves and branches, small structures, to be sure, but there was no mistaking their purpose. They roasted flesh of some kind over the flames, and the stench of charred meat mingled with their own unique stink, until the whole clearing glowed with an unwholesome miasma. And yet, they did chatter to one another from hideous, misshapen mouths. One touched another on the head in what I took to be a soothing manner, and the worst thing? There were small Freaks here. I had never seen their young, never given much thought to how they repopulated, but this proved they weren’t created through biting or infection. They were legitimate, natural creatures of this world, just as we were, though how they had come to be was still a matter of some disagreement and conjecture.

Nausea simmered in my gut. I didn’t want to see this. They had learned too much. They were becoming more like us, only they were too far from original humanity for me ever to see this ending well—for the mutants
or
us.

Drawing back, I pulled the boys with me. There was no way the three of us could mount an attack against so many. Not unless we wanted to die. My heart in my throat, I scuttled along the path, retreating for all I was worth. I hadn’t expected to find such an impossibility. I had no context to explain it.

In silence, we retraced our steps until a stray Freak lurched out of the bushes. It was obviously wounded, clutching its bloody side, and I sank my daggers into its throat before it could snarl. The beast died quietly, which was what we needed.
We couldn’t let it return to the others and warn them,
I thought. But the ruthless act troubled me. The one that had come into our camp could have killed so many of us, but it had chosen another course.
Why?
I wanted to believe it was all part of a plan to intimidate us, but I no longer felt sure of anything about these creatures.

Fade and Stalker helped me lower the body to the ground in silence, then I signaled for us to move out. With them behind me, I ran until I was sure our voices wouldn’t carry, either to the outpost or to the Freak village deep within the dark and spooky wood. At last I stopped, my hands trembling, knees weak.

Horrible. So horrible.
Freaks had children; that meant breeding. My dinner threatened to come up.

“What the devil,” Stalker said. He’d been learning the bad words, I gathered, from the other guards.

“They’re never going to believe us.” Fade rubbed a shaking hand across his eyes. “This is just like Nassau.”

I turned, gazing back into the trees, feeling uncertain. “Longshot will. He knows we wouldn’t lie. Though what he can do about it, I have no idea.”

It was time to head back and face whatever consequences came from our unauthorized recon mission. I only hoped the warning came in time to do some good.

Revelations

I didn’t have an opportunity to confess what we knew and how we’d learned it until the next afternoon. Sleep eluded me, and I suffered from its lack. My eyes burned, my head ached, and I found it difficult to eat. As the sun crept toward the horizon, Longshot stood apart from the men, watching them train.

Since I already knew what Stalker and Fade could teach me, I joined him. “I need to talk to you.”

There was an air of weariness and isolation about him, as if this task weighed heavier than he could bear. Longshot glanced over his shoulder, his expression a mix of curiosity and resignation. “Why is it every time I hear your voice, girl, I know my life’s about to get more complicated?”

His good-natured tone removed the sting from the words, however, and gave me the courage to continue. “I guess because you’ve gotten to know me.”

He chuckled. “It seems like a tall order, doesn’t it?”

I knew what he meant. Safeguarding the fields was an enormous responsibility, entrusted to so few of us. Our scarce numbers added another layer of tension to the task. “Are you mad they didn’t send more help?”

Longshot shook his head. “Then I’d just have more men cryin’ because they have to sleep on the ground. I’m not cut out for this.”

“Seems like you’re doing a good job.” I’d never had an elder speak to me like I was his equal before—and I liked it … a lot.

He sighed. “I’m not a leader of men. I drive head wagon on the trade runs, and sometimes I make trips by myself. It’s not the same.”