Outpost (36 page)

I applauded his valor and his desire to prove himself to my friend, but he didn’t have the skill or experience to serve as an asset. So I discouraged him politely. His face fell, but the easy way he accepted my refusal told me even more about his character. He wouldn’t make it where we were going, and I didn’t need to give Caroline another reason to hate me. Plus, Tegan had never mentioned him, and she might not be happy for Zach to tag along.

Elder Bigwater soon joined me, laden with the promised provisions. “I heard you’ve assembled a team for your mission. Most enterprising. I had to make a second trip to the mercantile.”

I let him praise me, even though I hadn’t asked anyone, except Stalker, and I wouldn’t have in his case if he hadn’t rattled me with that kiss. But it seemed better to let the elder believe the best about my motivational abilities.

To my relief, he didn’t talk. In my view we had already said everything that mattered. I was doing what he’d asked. What more was there?

The others arrived before much longer, Stalker first, then Fade, and finally Tegan. It was night, the perfect time to slip out unseen. The Freaks would be sleeping, out of rifle range, and if we ran into any hunting patrols outside the tunnel, we could handle them. By morning, we should have put considerable distance behind us.

“I’ll spare you any ceremony,” Bigwater said, “as you already know our fate rests in your hands. So I’ll merely wish you well.”

“Good hunting,” I corrected.

He gave me a puzzled look, but repeated the words nonetheless. “Good hunting, then, all of you.” The elder stepped over to a rough wood shelf, currently full of canned fruit. “Help me move this, lads.”

They accomplished the task in short order, revealing the dark tunnel beyond. Cool air blew in and stirred the veil of cobwebs that clung to the opening. It smelled of earth and freedom. Odd I should think that, but the very darkness beckoned, reminded me of my life down below. That made it easy for me to step in.

Bigwater offered a lamp, but I shook my head. It might give us away as we emerged at the other end. Better to make our way without. In the field, we all knew how to fashion torches as needed.

I took the lead, because once my eyes adjusted, I could make out the rough dirt walls and the occasional timber, now half rotten from neglect, wedged in for support. It was a narrow shaft, much shorter than the ones I’d lived in down below, so I moved in a crouch, constantly scanning for trouble. In a space this size, combat would prove all but impossible. Fortunately, I encountered nothing scarier than rats and spiders, who scuttled as I pressed forward.

“This is awful,” Tegan whispered. “We could die down here.”

Stalker’s careless answer drifted up to me: “We could die anywhere.”

So true.
Good people had been lost this summer. And more would perish if we failed to bring help. A deep empathy for that poor blind brat down below settled in my stomach; I hoped I fared better than he. Fade held his silence, but I wondered if he shared my thought.

Countless moments later, a chill breeze blew down. Loose dirt lent it a gritty flavor. I scrambled up the gentle incline, using my hands for purchase. Beyond, the unknown lay before us once more, and another impossible task. The four of us emerged from the earth and turned our steps west, toward the last hope for Salvation.

Author’s Note

I have done my best to envision what an emerging society, founded on religious tenets, might be like after pandemics and worldwide catastrophe. The survivors who settled in Salvation have their roots in fundamentalist doctrine; they are the descendants of the Pennsylvania Amish, who migrated north after endless wars and the bio-plagues referenced in this novel. The society reflected here, however, is not intended to be a representation of any existing faith or culture. It is an anthropological extrapolation based on available data. Therefore, based on that historical proscription on technology, the citizens of Salvation eschew all old world artifacts. Instead, they prefer to craft things and to lead a simple life.

There are clues in the text as to where they are. If you Google the Aroostook War, it mentions the boundary between New Brunswick and Maine being disputed. Salvation is, in fact, located on the site of Fort Ingall, which is also hinted, when Edmund tells the story about how the town has been settled thrice. More information about the locale is available here:
http://www.fortingall.ca/en/history
. The lake, therefore, is Lake Temiscouata, though the names have been lost. The terrain will have changed, obviously, in two hundred years with limited human impact.

And yes, as you’ve likely figured out by now, the Freaks are not zombies. They’re mutants. More information will be forthcoming on them in book three.

I hope you enjoyed your second glimpse of the apocalypse.

Acknowledgments

First off, I appreciate Laura Bradford for being 100% awesome all the time. She’s like a fairy godmother with a wand or maybe Kevin Costner building my
Field of Dreams
. (If I write it, they will come?)

Next, I offer paeans of gratitude that I get to work with the amazing crew at Feiwel and Friends: Liz Szabla, Jean Feiwel, Anna Roberto, Ksenia Winnicki, Rich Deas, sales, marketing, publicity, and everyone who contributes to creating these beautiful books. Producing
Outpost
has been a pleasure and an honor. Copyedits are a joy when they’re handled by an expert, and for that, I thank the incomparable Anne Heausler.

Mega thanks to my early readers: Jenn Bennett, Bree Bridges, and Karen Alderman, who helped make this book the best it could be. Thanks also to the PoP loop, who help me keep the crazy in the can. Hats off to my amazing proofreader, Fedora Chen.

Thanks to my family, who believe in me even when I don’t. Just like Deuce and Fade.

Finally, thanks to my amazing readers, whose letters make me laugh and cry, and keep me writing. I am a woman alone with my keyboard without you.

A F
EIWEL AND
F
RIENDS
B
OOK

An Imprint of Macmillan

OUTPOST.
Copyright © 2012 by Ann Aguirre. All rights reserved. For information, address Feiwel and Friends, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Available

ISBN: 978-0-312-65009-4

Feiwel and Friends logo designed by Filomena Tuosto

eISBN 9781250031402

First Edition: 2012

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