The houses were too small to host so many people; there was no mess hall like they had in Soldier’s Pond, so they made do in the town square. People carried out what they had left in their cupboards, and men and women shared the cooking; a good idea, I thought. Soon, there was meat roasting in multiple fires, vegetables bubbling, and sweets being stirred in pots. Other townsfolk went about the business of removing all signs of the bloodbath from the day before. Stern-faced, weary men worked with rags and buckets. For a time, those labors made people forget the high cost of survival.
What will they do with the makeshift prison they built to house the afflicted? And why didn’t they just confine them in their houses? It was possible they tried that and that measure failed. I closed my eyes for a few seconds, breathing in the savory smells. Belatedly, I realized I was starving. Dry meat and bread had been the norm on the way, and I’d pushed the men hard. I’d feared we would arrive too late, but now I could relax a little. The crisis was past.
Someone sat down beside me, then I recognized Tegan’s voice. “Do you think things will ever be the same here?”
“I don’t know,” I said honestly.
“Where are we headed in the morning?”
I had been thinking about that a lot. “We’ll try our luck nearby, see if our success in the fall was enough to change people’s minds.”
“Good idea.”
As the cooks finished up the evening meal, a trading party arrived from Lorraine—and that seemed like a sign. They were grizzled men with permanently sun-browned skin and silver beards. Their easy manners reminded me of Longshot, and a hole opened up inside me. I’d lost people before, but never like that. Nobody ever thought so much of me that he’d die so I could live, and I was finding it hard to carry that gift, as there was no way of repaying him.
“What happened here?” the lead driver asked, for it was obvious the town was recovering from an attack.
“Private dispute,” Mrs. Meriwether told him.
“Not Muties?” the man demanded. “There’s a huge mess of them over in Appleton. The whole town’s overrun.”
The woman blanched but she shook her head. “So far, we’ve seen nothing of them.”
“I wouldn’t fret. I hear there’s an army on the march. I had word on the trail from John Kelley. These soldiers killed about a thousand mutants out past Soldier’s Pond.”
The trader’s comment put a smile on my face. As promised, the trapper was spreading word about—and exaggerating—our great deeds. I didn’t know how much his stories would help, but they were entertaining, anyway.
Agnes Meriwether opened her eyes wide. “Is that so? Well, there will be a party tonight, so you’ve arrived in time for some good eating.”
“Thanks kindly. We’re all hungry enough to eat a raw bear.”
A nascent strategy solidified in my mind as I listened to their polite talk; the wagons were heavy with goods that Winterville desperately needed. With luck, the citizens could find things of value to offer in return, despite the circumstances. The townsfolk hurried off to gather scattered items to offer in exchange for fresh supplies. Longshot had told me that men traveled the trade runs during spring and fall, so we could expect to see more caravans, more targets for the Freaks too.
I sought Fade out to ask his opinion. He was sprawled beneath a flowering tree, its white blossoms sweet in the cool air. Even dirty and tired, he was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen.
“You look like there’s something on your mind.”
I nodded, dropping down beside him. “I was thinking that we should guard the trade routes. The fastest way to endear ourselves to the people in the remaining towns is to keep their economies thriving.”
“You reckon that’ll make them feel indebted, more likely to send men to bolster our numbers?”
“I hope so. It’s the only idea I have left.” Beyond securing more ground for Soldier’s Pond, I couldn’t imagine how our squad could make a difference against the horde.
“It’s solid,” he agreed.
“We have to add to Company D … or the minute the Freaks abandon Appleton, they’ll roll right over the next town.”
By proximity, Lorraine had the most to worry about, as the settlement was only four days away. A big group might take longer to arrive, but not long enough for the citizens to evacuate, and besides, where would they go? Urgency clutched at me with hot, sharp fingers, but there was nothing I could do at the moment. That didn’t sit well at all.
Fade braced and reached for me then. It seemed to me that it got easier each time he did it, more natural. I hoped the day would come when he could do it without needing that mental pause, where touching me was the easiest and best thing in the world. “Try not to worry. For the moment, we’re safe and we’re together. Let that be enough.”
That was more than enough; it was everything.
Defense
Stalker returned late that night, well after they set out the food. He caught my eye and nodded, letting me know he’d dealt with his grief. I was glad to have him back. After that silent exchange, he fixed a plate and joined the rest of his scouts. The town square was a cheerful place, lit by the electric lights that Wilson had explained in such tedious detail, plus the merry crackle of multiple fires.
By that time, everyone else had eaten. There were jugs of strong-smelling drink that made the townsfolk laugh and fall down a lot; I quietly instructed my men to stay away from it. Around that time, a Lorraine trader produced a fiddle, and I wondered if the Winterville citizens found the music improper for a night that was supposed to be about showing respect for the dead, but nobody protested. The notes sang out like silver light, until people’s feet were tapping. Soon, dancing began, a whirl of feet and legs. The impromptu performance seemed to enliven Stalker further and he coaxed a local girl into dancing with him. Later, he stole a kiss from Tully, which made Spence try to plant a boot in his arse. Laughing, Stalker went back to his Winterville conquest. It was good to see him in high spirits, after the knock he’d taken earlier.
As the liquor flowed, stories tumbled out one after another. Many of them had the magical quality of the one Morrow had told about the boy who lived in the cupboard. I had a hard time listening to all of them, but the storyteller was in his element. Now and then I caught him scribbling frantically to be sure he didn’t miss any of the details.
Tegan sat with Dr. Wilson, pestering him with questions, but rather than being annoyed, he seemed pleased by her interest. The scientist had endless patience for her curiosity, even if I didn’t understand half the things he was telling her. She glowed by firelight, looking at Wilson as if he were the greatest present she ever got, even without the fancy wrapping. I laughed quietly, and Fade tightened his arm around my shoulders. Moments like these were few and far between.
“Do you ever wonder what happened down below after we left?” he asked, surprising me.
“All the time. I wish there was some way for us to find out.” But we had come so far, not just in actual distance. I might even be frightened to go back down into darkness, fearing it would choose to keep me this time and not let me go back into the light.
“Me too. I know you had friends you left behind.”
“Not very good ones, as it turns out. They believed the worst of me awfully fast.” That was an old wound, one I’d hardly acknowledged.
“I’m sure they had their reasons,” Fade said.
I gave a bitter laugh. “They trusted the elders, like I did before you got inside my head.”
“Are you sorry about that?”
“How can you even ask? My life is so much better because you’re in it—and not just because we went Topside.”
He gave me a crooked smile, and his gaze lingered on my lips. “It’s nice to hear.”
I winced, taking that as a criticism. Deep down I knew I wasn’t the best at talking about my feelings, and Fade probably needed to hear how important he was to me, as much as I could express it. “I’ll try to be a better partner.”
“You’re spot on with the killing,” he told me, smiling.
That was a quiet nod at our time together down below when I was completely oblivious to the fact that he wanted to be more than my hunting mate. My cheeks heated. “I’ll work on the talking.”
The fact that my private thoughts mattered to him meant more than he knew. As I struggled to find the words to express them, the lights went out overhead. The fiddler paused his tune as the night darkened, leaving only the fires crackling. People quieted also, as if they remembered all too well how dangerous nights filled with monsters could be.
“I’m sure it’s just a malfunction in the wires,” Dr. Wilson said. “Or possibly the windmill that powers this part of town has broken down.”
A dozen slurred voices added their opinions, but I recognized the prickle crawling over my bare arms. I signaled my men, and Company D was on its feet, ready for battle in less than thirty seconds. I spun until I located Stalker, but he was already coming toward me. He recognized this as his area of expertise.
“Will you see what’s going on?” I asked, low. “But don’t engage. We need intel.”
This time, he took none of his scouts, heading off at a silent run. He moved with all the grace of a creature born in the wild, and within seconds, he vanished into the shadows. The party mood was gone, and the Winterville folk started packing up the food, hurrying toward the houses where they had hidden for days already. Most still had barricades for the windows and doors; I hoped they wouldn’t need them tonight.
Mrs. Meriwether darted toward Dr. Wilson. In the confusion, she thought nobody was paying attention, but I craned my ears to catch every word. “I thought we were safe. You made enough of that spray to treat the whole town.”
His tired reply was unmistakable. “It doesn’t last forever, Agnes, and Timothy is gone. I can’t make more without him since the extract came from his reproductive glands.”
“So we’re defenseless?” Her horror was palpable. “I killed all those people for nothing.”
I bit out a curse. The chances were good that we had Freaks in the windmills, destroying them. They might not understand what purpose they served, but they hated all human technology. They’d wreck these machines for the same reason they’d dug up our crops—because they thought it would weaken us in some fashion. And in most cases, they were right.
I didn’t wonder long. Stalker came at a run, winded, which meant he’d pushed himself. He gasped out, “Freaks. At least a hundred, coming in from the east.” As he caught his breath, he added, “I suspect they trailed the Lorraine traders. Not sure why the pheromones aren’t discouraging them.”
“It washes away,” I said. “It’s not forever. And Dr. Wilson can’t make more.”
“They won’t fight.” Fade was watching the townsfolk move in full retreat, preparing to cower inside their homes.
But barred windows and doors wouldn’t deter a hundred intelligent Freaks. They’d use fire or some other strategy to take this town, and it wouldn’t even require the rest of the horde, unless we did something about it.
