The Dream Widow (7 page)

In turn, each student squatted and tossed the log sections across the field.

“Impressive,” said Reed.

“That’s not the half of it. Smashers, stack.”

The group relaxed and chanted again. The first three lifted and placed their sections together but not touching. The next layer sat on top of that. With a lifted hand from the first students, the third and fourth layers were stacked high.

“Now I see how the second story of the blockhouse was finished so quickly,” said Reed.

“Oh, we’re not done yet.” Wilson pointed at Mast. “Ut-kurdana. Go.”

Mast nodded and closed his eyes. He chanted softly for a moment, then turned to the stack of logs. He squatted low with his arms behind his back and leaped to the summit, leaving a pair of muddy divots in the grass. For a moment he balanced precariously with one leg, then saluted.

“Cat’s teeth,” said Reed. “I don’t remember that one.”

Wilson waved at Mast. “Jump down before you fall and break something, and I don’t mean your thick head. Smashers, circle and recover for ten minutes.”

The students sat cross-legged with knees touching, and bowed their heads. They murmured a new stanza:

            Breath made of ice

            Breath made of water

            Breath made of fog

            Calm my heart

“At least I know that much,” said Reed. “It’s the one I taught you.”

Wilson smiled. “Right. Step over here, Father.”

Badger waited next to the second line of students and Wilson gave her a thumbs-up. She walked down the line murmuring instructions then pointed at the village, a full kilometer away in the center of the valley. These teenagers were thin and slighter than the ones wearing red armbands. All spread their feet shoulder-width and closed their eyes.

“Go,” yelled Badger.

The students shot by Reed in a fizz of dirt and flying grass. Reed wiped bits from his face and watched the figures shrink in the direction of Station, chased by dust-devils and a drifting plume of dust.

“That’s a hunter’s trick from the old days,” he said.

Wilson nodded. “A few broke the Rules and passed the knowledge down. Since tricks aren’t banned anymore, Zhang admitted that he knew this one.”

“That cheater,” said Reed. “I thought he was just a fast runner.”

“Skill and talent are two halves of the apple,” said Badger. “We chose the fastest students to be Runners.”

Reed glanced at the circle of meditating students. “And the strongest to be what you’ve called ‘Smashers?’”

Wilson smiled. “Easy to remember, isn’t it?”

A trickle of sound grew into a wave of running feet. A red-haired boy slid to a stop and gasped for breath, hands on his knees. The rest of the students arrived seconds later.

Wilson clapped the boy on the shoulder. “Good work, Robb.”

“Runners! Circle up and recover,” yelled Badger.

The sweaty teenagers wiped faces and sat in another circle next to the first group.

Father Reed pointed at the line of students in white armbands. “Don’t tell me these boys and girls are going to fly?”

“No. These are the smartest kids we have at Station. All twelve are well-read and fast learners.”

“Don’t tell me they can stop bullets with math,” said Reed.

Mast stood up and yelled, “If Robb is traveling south at ten klicks per hour and the Circle is traveling north at 12 klicks per hour, how long before he craps his pants?”

The circles of teenagers broke into laughter.

Wilson waved a hand. “All right, all right.”

“But Masterson’s joke is accurate,” said Reed. “How have these students been trained?”

Wilson looked away and cleared his throat. “In medicine,” he said. “We call them Medics.”

“I see.”

“I know the Rules. I know everyone has to be chosen for their Role at Station. But if we’re going to fight off the Circle, actually stand up to them, we need more people who can save lives. I’ve only trained them in traumatic injuries and how to move the wounded out of danger.”

“That doesn’t make it right. We should have talked about this earlier.”

Wilson spread his hands. “We originally had only two groups, the Runners and Smashers, but if they over-exert themselves through the implant tricks, they’ll need help quickly. The training is too long and there are too few of us to not have a support system. I know what it feels like for a trick to suck away all of your energy. In the middle of a fight the students may forget to recover or meditate.”

“What do you mean? They won’t be fighting alone. The rest of us will be there to help.”

“Yes, but the Medics are trained in medicine and the emergency reset codes for all of our implants.” Wilson paused. “I’ve talked to Jack about his army days, and came up with the idea. The squadrons are split into twelve fire-teams of three, each with a Smasher, Runner, and Medic. They don’t separate. If one is wounded the other two can carry him. They attack together and retreat together. Fire-teams can still work with other fire-teams, but as an organizing principle, three is the strongest number.”

“I see.”

Wilson waved at Badger.

“For the last trick, all squadrons will participate.”

“Round Robin!” yelled Badger, startling Father Reed.

Twelve of the students in a mix of red, blue, and white armbands stood in a circle around Wilson, each an arms-length apart. Twelve others faced outward, backs touching the first twelve. The remaining twelve formed a slightly larger circle facing inward.

“Ready your weapons,” said Badger.

Each member of the three circles, including Wilson, pulled a long, single-edged knife from his or her belt.

“Those are unsharpened practice blades, Father,” said Badger. “As you can see.”

Reed exhaled the breath he’d been holding. “Of course they are.”

“Takedowns and single strikes only,” yelled Badger. “If you haven’t learned the drill by now it’s too late.”

A few students rolled shoulders and limbered up their arms.

“Prepare for Pravega.”

All thirty-seven bowed heads and chanted softly.

           
Heart made of flame

            Heart made of spark

            Heart made of sun

            Speed my hand

“Go,” said Badger.

The circles transformed into a blur of white and brown streaks. A storm of indistinct yells and thumps cracked through the air even as the hard friction of the “G” left Badger’s mouth. After the long vowel she closed her lips and the fight was over. In the center squirmed a pile of tangled students. Only ten were still standing. Most knelt or lay on the ground where they’d been thrown or “stabbed.” All were soaked with sweat and breathing hard, even those who were left standing.

Reed and Badger had measured the fight in a pair of heartbeats. For Wilson at the center it had taken far longer.

As he began the Pravega chant and fire visualization a dull roar filled his ears. When Badger’s tongue touched her soft palate and the fricative spittle of the “G” began, he blocked a quick stab from a Smasher and shoved the boy’s arm sideways, knocking him into two others.

Wilson dodged a straight-armed thrust from a girl on his left and stepped behind her, touching his practice knife to her neck. She knelt and a Medic grabbed Wilson’s knife-arm, twisting it to put pressure on the nerve, but Wilson moved one leg behind the boy and elbowed him to the ground.

A Smasher tackled Wilson from the side and knocked him to the ground. He touched the boy’s face with the practice knife, counting him out, but three Runners piled onto Wilson and held his arms.

“Not fair, Robb,” he yelled. “And one of you needs a bath!”

The dull roar faded from his ears as the boys clambered off Wilson. Two students bent over and vomited in the dirt, but the rest were simply exhausted.

Robb laughed and helped Wilson to his feet.

“You’re the one that’s not fair,” he said. “You’re better than any of us.”

Wilson shrugged. “I’d say practice makes perfect but look at you, Robb. You’d barely win a fight with a starving kitten.”

“Maybe if it didn’t have legs,” said Mast, his face smeared with dirt and sweat.

Wilson checked on the two sick students then spread his arms as he walked to Father Reed.

“What do you think?”

“Impressive. But that trick was banned for a reason, Wilson.”

“That’s why we have the Medics.”

“What if the Medic is sick?”

Wilson grinned. “The Smasher carries him back, or the Runner ... well, he runs for help.”

“I see. Where did you get this idea, to fight in the middle of a group?”

“It’s to avoid what happened to me back east. A smart enemy will use numbers against us.”

“Like we just did to you,” yelled Robb.

“Everyone dismissed for lunch,” yelled Badger. “Come back at midday.”

The teenagers ran toward the village, laughing and joking with each other. Reed shaded his eyes with one hand and watched them disappear.

“It’s obvious you’ve learned to master the tricks, Wilson, but these young boys and girls don’t have the same talent. You’re pushing them unnecessarily hard.”

“That’s the reason for splitting the tricks into categories. I’d rather have them master only three tricks than struggle with all twenty.”

“What I mean is you should be more careful.”

“But we have.”

“Two of your students collapsed after that exercise.”

Badger juggled three of the practice knives. “A drop of sweat saves a drop of blood.”

“Even if that’s true, Kira, this isn’t as simple as shooting a crossbow or stabbing a range lizard through the neck. As Wilson has probably told you, the implants are integrated into every part of the human physiology.”

Badger raised an eyebrow. “Sure, but ‘every’ part of the body? You mean–”

“Yes!” said Wilson and Reed together.

“Just a question. Don’t bite my head off.”

Father Reed sighed. “In any case, do a full download on the two who were sick today and increase the frequency of a compete diagnostic for all students to every other day, not once a week.”

Wilson nodded. “Sounds good.”

“Come and see me after the download is finished,” said Reed. “Now let’s follow the example of your students and eat.”

They walked past the corral and along the path back to Station.

“Since we’re talking about the implants, Kira, how are you feeling?”

Badger shrugged. “I’m jealous, that’s about it.”

“Any health problems? Even minor ones?”

“Body aches,” said Wilson, laughing. “Kira thinks she can sneak away in the mornings to run five miles without me noticing.”

Badger punched him on the arm. “You and your students have all the new tricks. I have to keep up somehow.”

“In any case, if you feel strange in any way let me know at once,” said Father Reed. “No one has ever had their main implant deactivated and survived.”

“Kira’s not just anyone,” said Wilson.

“I understand that, believe me,” said Reed.

Badger pointed. “Look––it’s Kaya and that ugly dog.”

A brown-haired girl ran toward them with the black dog trotting behind her.

“Is it an emergency?” asked Reed.

Kaya breathed out a loud sigh of relief and wiped her forehead with the back of a tanned hand.

“We can’t find Wilson’s mo––we can’t find Mary.”

FATHER REED TOUCHED the electronic map that covered his office wall. A cluster of black symbols expanded over the grey background and his fingers slid down a long list of numbers. He chose one.

“Tell me again what happened.”

“Mary sent me to Barracks to get a pair of knives sharpened. When I came back she was gone. It didn’t bother me, so I kept working on the new trousers. At midday meal she still hadn’t come back. We always eat together, so I went to Office and Barracks. Nobody’d seen her.”

Wilson pointed at a black number on the map. “She’s right there, Sector C4.”

“That’s on the other side of Old Man,” said Badger. “It’s either the lake, or––”

“The cliffs,” said Wilson, leaving the office at a run.

Father Reed turned to follow. Badger held him back with a gentle hand and shook her head. She ran after Wilson.

IT WOULD TAKE a normal person in good health half an hour to hike up the eastern side of the valley. Lazy switchbacks rose up the steep side of Old Man, crossed the ridge, and followed the cliffs above the lake.

Wilson wasn’t normal.

The air whipped past his face and roared in his ears. He repeated the chant over and over and filled his mind with an image of spiraling bolts from a crossbow. Wilson ran careful and fast like a dancer on ice. One stumble and a broken bone would be the best outcome.