Circles in the Dust (19 page)

chapter 21

This was it. Death was finally coming for him.

He lay there, in the dark, and knew it for certain now. It was inevitable really. He had died a long time ago. Time was just catching up with him. He should have died as a child when nearly everyone else did in the war, but he didn’t. The winter that had raged ever since, that was only now beginning to abate, should surely have finished him off, but he’d dodged that bullet too. The starvation that ravaged the rest of the survivors, who were making their final stand at this very moment outside the Base, nearly did the trick that fateful morning by the river. Yet here he was, rotting in a dank hole.

But this was it.

He was aware that he would die, but little else could exist in his sluggish brain. Hunger was gnawing at his belly, but the thirst that burned in his throat, in his head, in every part of his shriveling body, would be the end of him. He was hardly able to process a coherent thought and had gone numb from the never-ending pain.

Then there was a light, and a man entered the room. It did not look like the Mayor, but that might have been a delusion on behalf of David’s faltering mental state. This man was slimmer, his skin was darker. He entered the room, a haze surrounding his fuzzy face.

“God damn…” David heard slip between the man’s teeth. He worried what the arrival of this ebony-skinned stranger meant, dreaded the atrocities that were sure to follow, when the man circled behind him and he felt the rope around his wrists tighten, rubbing against the forgotten sores. There was a sharp tug and David winced, bracing himself for more pain. Why wouldn’t anyone just let him die in peace? Then the bonds fell away, leaving David sorely confused. He hunched forward, all the muscles in his torso crying out in agony, though he could barely hear their raucous symphony.

His first thought was of escape; he had been released, and he wanted nothing more than to leave this awful place. Maybe this stranger had come to let him free, to defy the Mayor, and he would encourage this. As much as he knew he needed to stay, that he had a job to do here,  that any future he would have relied on this place, every primal instinct urged him to run. David tried to stand and sank back down when the world dimmed and spun around him. He was not strong enough.

A hand gripped his arm and he was pulled to his feet.

“You poor man,” the man’s silky voice sounded from David’s side. The deep words were laced with sympathy; David took an immediate liking to this person, his own savior. “Here.” He held a canteen up to David’s mouth, cool water running from its belly into David’s mouth, spilling down his cheeks thanks to his thin consciousness. He took a few gulps and the man took the canteen away.

“Easy,” he muttered. “Let’s get you some food, and find you somewhere to lie down. I can’t believe this.” His words cut off and David could vaguely feel a rich anger emanating from the sturdy stranger.

“Thank you,” David croaked, the water returning his ability to speak.

The man looked at him with tender eyes, large, brown pools David found extremely comforting. “I’m Al. I’m so sorry you’ve been treated like this, David.” The words came to David like a blanket, replacing the resentment and wish for vengeance that had been coiling around him. It was still disconcerting that everyone knew his name.

Al wrapped David’s arm around his shoulders, supporting him as David stumbled up a flight of stairs and down a hallway. He was vaguely aware of his surroundings, his attention focused on his attempt at walking across the ever-shifting floorboards. They entered a dark room where Al picked him up and laid him down on a cot, a musty, hard cot that could not have been more heavenly. He slipped out into the hallway, returning a minute later with a few soft biscuits and a steaming bowl of aromatic broth. David nibbled on the bread and took a few lazy sips of the broth before exhaustion overcame him and he lay back on the bed. Al gave him a few more quaffs of water before he left David alone to enter his first deep sleep in days.

“This is all my fault.”

The words came softly into David’s dream, bringing him back to the surface. He was lying on his back, and his eyes opened partially, squinting to hide his wakefulness. The twilight of the room was lit from behind by a dim glow from the hallway, and he was not able to make out the features on the face of the woman in front of him, but he recognized that voice. Pulling him back. Always pulling him back.

Elizabeth brushed her golden hair behind her ear and placed her hand on David’s thigh, covered as it was by one of his own blankets. He savored the slight pressure of her touch, relieved to see her once more. Looking into her face, hearing her voice full of despair for the hurt she had caused him, he knew that he wanted what she wanted, to bring the Base and Outliers to peace so they could all live happy lives, and he would do it for her. It was an odd feeling. His whole life he had thought of himself, though he was only beginning to realize what that meant now that he felt so compelled to do what he could for another.

She gazed at him for a while, shaking her head slightly. He made no move to show he was awake; he feared this was a dream, it was so surreal, and he would not pop this bubble before its time.

Eventually the sound of a door creaking open came drifting through the open door and she stiffened, rising silently to peek out into the hall. She turned around, and he imagined he saw her eyes, dark as it was. He knew what they looked like, and he placed them on her face, bright and full of empathy, before she retreated; he closed his eyes, hoping for a repeat of this wonderful fantasy before the sun rose.

chapter 22

David woke to the sounds of footsteps and gruff voices, mingled with the unfamiliar lilt of a soft, feminine voice here and there. David was not used to having women around, and hadn’t imagined many women in the mental image he held of the Base, despite the fact that a woman had first told him of it. He sat up and peered out into the hallway through a crack in the door left by his nighttime visitor. He could see only random flashes of movement through the slim opening, but he could tell that it was still dark; everything was a shade of gray.

He lay back down, still dazed from hunger and the imprisonment he had been subjected to. He didn’t know if he should rise and try and find the Mayor, if he should have a look around the Base. Then again, he didn’t know if he was considered a friend or foe yet, and snooping around was sure to tip the balance in one direction.

He stared up at the ceiling. There were still a few patches of paint but most of it had peeled off, revealing the plaster underneath. He realized as he stared at the long, rectangular ceiling that this was an oddly shaped room, until it hit him that he must be in a closet, or what was once a closet. His cot touched all four walls and was positioned diagonally so that it would fit in the cramped space. His hand reached out and ran along the dark green canvas, along the wrinkled ridges that were evidence of the tight fit. The edges were frayed and the fabric thin and faded in places, but it was a more comfortable bed than David could have expected.

He closed his eyes and tried to resume his rest but his stomach protested, adamant that he eat something first. He was afraid to get up and go out into the hallway; what if they thought he was trying to escape and tied him up again? He wouldn’t go through that a second time. He pulled his blanket up over his face and let his arm drop resignedly off the edge of the cot, where it struck something soft and flaky.

David couldn’t believe his luck.

He pulled the blanket off his face with care and turned over to look over the edge of the bed, where the remnants of the biscuits Al had given him sat on the floor.

He crammed the first into his mouth and coughed as he inhaled some crumbs. He gasped as he swallowed the first biscuit and realized there was no rush,  his head swimming from the lack of air while struggling to devour his last morsel. He began breaking the rest apart and eating them one piece at a time, content to sit and wait for someone to come and collect him. He had a bed, food (including the bowl of broth Al had left, which he was more than happy to eat cold), and some water, which he discovered when he leaned off the cot to search for any runaway biscuits. If only he could stay like this for a while.

His head turned as the door creaked open and a feminine shape appeared in the hall.

chapter 23

“Get any sleep?”

The voice was sharp like a knife, and had an unkind edge to it that made David shrink away from the open door. The girl standing there was not who he had hoped it would be; a small girl, with dark hair falling straight down over her dirty sweatshirt towered over him. Her eyes were deep and dark, with thin lips to match. In the twilight of the room,  she practically glowed her skin was so pale. Her eyes bored into him from their recessed sockets, contempt dancing in her gaze. She wore a cruel smirk, the line of her mouth curling up at one end. She looked no more than a young teenager, though her voice sounded much more mature.

“A little,” he replied. He didn’t like this girl, though it took him a moment to understand why. She looked familiar, and he realized with a start that she had been the lantern-bearer that first night he had met the Mayor. She had looked scared then, but the tables seemed to have turned.

“You had better get up. Breakfast will be over soon, and we’ve got work to do.”

Her demeanor went from fearless and confident to impatient, as if she were dealing with a small child. David knew already that he would not be enjoying this day.

“Work?”

“Well, not real work,” she explained. “You’ll be taking a tour of the compound, and meeting the people you intend to save.”

Questioning why this girl was the one come to show him around, when he had expected the Mayor and hoped for Elizabeth, he rose from the bed without another word and dusted the crumbs off his shirt. She tossed his jacket to him, which she had been holding in her arms when she arrived, and turned into the hallway.

“This way,” she commanded curtly as she marched down the dim corridor.

David followed obediently behind, confused and anxious, but eager to begin his quest.

The halls were barren and David caught only sporadic glimpses of Base-dwellers. Those he did see leaving their rooms were hurriedly throwing on their coats and running to wherever they were off to. David’s legs were weak and he struggled to keep up with the girl as she zoomed down the hall. She spoke without turning around to look at him.

“I’m Ann, by the way,” she said.

“David. But you already knew that.”

David thought he heard a bark of a laugh, but it was hard to tell from behind.

“We’ll get something to eat in the dining room. Then we’ll get started.”

They rounded a corner and entered a large room filled with the pleasant smells of food. There was a long table splitting the room down the middle, empty except for a few stragglers finishing their breakfast, some kind of stew or mush. Ann led David to a table and motioned for him to sit before she disappeared through a door on the far side of the room. David looked around at the room in which he sat. The walls were empty except for a few framed pictures, old portraits and a couple of landscapes. The walls were painted an olive-green, though that was faded and chipping, just as it had been in his room. In some places they were smudged with black, where David guessed charcoal had been used to write and draw, though only a handful of messages remained, most having been wiped.

The table was a dark wood with a chipping veneer, exuding a rustic charm. The few people choking down the remnants of their meal turned to look at David as if in silent accord and gave him a common venomous stare. This made him uncomfortable, and he glued his eyes to the table, tracing the swirl of a knot with his finger.

A bowl clattered on top of David’s knot and he looked up to see Ann taking a seat next to him with a bowl of her own. It was some kind of bland gruel, though it was at least hot. David dug into it, ravenous now that food was available to him. He swallowed half his meal without pausing to chew, earning him another degrading look from Ann, and a few surprised ones from the others.

“This is David,” Ann shouted to the other end of the table where the stragglers sat. “He’s here to save the day.” David’s cheeks flushed. He snuck a glance up at those he was being introduced to. There were a couple of middle-aged women, wearing shawls and scarves over their heads. One was chuckling, the other’s face was stony. An old man seemed to be debating rising to throw his breakfast at David, and a young man, closer to David’s age, lifted his eyes only briefly, barely distracted from his food by the announcement.

David didn’t know if he should add something to what Ann said, or remain silent. Deciding that opening his mouth may push the old man over the edge, he returned his attention to his bowl. Ann spooned mush mechanically into her scornful mouth next to him.

When she finished her last bite, she rose and took David’s bowl, which had been empty for a couple of minutes already, and went back through the door to what David guessed must be the kitchen. The old man rose and followed her, bumping into David’s chair on the way (David noted that he had to go the long way around the table to pass behind his chair) and continued on into the kitchen.

David began composing the eulogy for his dream of praise. 

“Let’s go.”

Ann was next to him again, beckoning him to follow her though the hallway through which they had entered. She led him through this maze of a building to what must be the front door. They exited the old farmhouse and in front of them lay the fields he had seen from above a few days before.

From that vantage point, imagination allowed them to appear fruitful and promising. Most of the fields were barren, having been harvested already, but Ann led him further back to where he could see men toiling to reap the last of their summer bounty. It was not a long walk; winter being so close there was not much left to do, but the frosty air told him they must be in a hurry to finish before the first snow came.

They reached the fields and Ann stopped. David nearly crashed into her but saved himself that tongue-lashing in the nick of time. She stood gazing stolidly at the farmers, David following suit. He realized as he looked out that the fields were not as they had seemed from above; they reminded him of his own sad attempt at raising a garden. There were healthy-looking plants rising above the heads of the harvesters, wheat or something; David wasn’t sure. Those strong plants were surrounded on all sides, however, by stunted, shriveled companions, with plenty of bare patches in between. If the few acres being utilized were filled with food, the Base would surely have no problem inviting the Outliers to join them, but David could see now that there could not be too much extra being grown out here.

Ann sighed and proceeded closer to the workers; David trailed behind, guessing at what was coming. His prediction was spot on.

“Hey everyone,” Ann’s voice rang out. The sounds of toil died down and all eyes were on the newly arrived pair. “This is David,” she shouted, and motioned for him to wave. He did so reluctantly, wishing he could bring his hand down around the mouth of the girl next to him. “He’s come to be our hero!” David cringed, hoping that none of the Outliers could hear her; if any were close enough to, his plan was doomed from the start. He wondered if Ann was aware of this. With the way she had treated him thus far, it wouldn’t surprise him if she did.

There was nothing but silence in reply; silence and cold, hard stares.

“Look up,” Ann ordered. He responded with a questioning look, and she explained. “If you’re going to try and save us, I want everyone to know your face. To know who is responsible if someone betrays us.” 

“Fair enough,” David mumbled, raising his head and trying to meet as many pairs of eyes as he could. If he had to guess, David would say there were around fifty, maybe more, uniformly skeptical gazes meeting his. Ann turned back around and marched away toward the main building, and David followed. The workers in the field returned to their duty.

“So why are you the one showing me around?” David asked.

“Why not?” she snapped.

“I was just wondering. I was expecting the Mayor or someone to come tell me what the plan was
—”

She stopped and turned around, the fire in her eyes cutting David off mid-thought. “You didn’t think they would trust a girl to show the newcomer around?”

David stuttered, completely thrown off by this. He had not meant that at all; he’d only wondered why it was not someone higher ranking. Although she had been with the Mayor that first night he had come to talk to David…

“No…that’s…that’s not what I meant at all,” David said. “I just meant that I wasn’t expecting to be shown around the place. I figured no one would want me to know where anything was. I kind of thought that was part of why I was tied up in a basement.” His voice lowered as he finished that last part, remembering the despair this time over his anger.

Sympathy welled up in her eyes momentarily, and then disappeared. Her voice was distinctly less harsh when she resumed.  “With winter being so close, we couldn’t really spare anyone too vital to the harvest. And I’ve been kind of the Mayor’s right-hand for a while. But now that she’s back—” Ann stopped and looked down at her feet, and David felt a pang of pity for his brash tour guide. She shuffled her feet for a moment, and David felt the odd urge to embrace her. He took a hesitant step forward and was met with a shout.

“What are you doing?” she spat, backing up quickly as she fumbled in her pocket, bringing out a small handgun. She held it clumsily, her hands shaking. David had to remind himself that he was not in the woods anymore. Everyone carried a gun out there. He had once seen a stick-thin toddler waving around a loaded pistol beside his mother when David had wandered unknowingly close to their camp. Even he had held it with more confidence.

His sympathy dissipated. Back to business.

He raised his hands and apologized, thinking that telling her he was going to give her a hug wouldn’t be the most believable thing to say at the moment.

She tucked the gun back into the holster on her hip (a holster, now that was new) and continued her attempt to kill him with her gaze.

“You’ve seen the fields. Now you understand why we can’t let everyone and their grandmother in here?”

“Yeah. At least there probably aren’t too many grandmas left,” he joked, hoping this would allay her anger a bit. It didn’t. “At least you’ve got something growing.”

“Yeah, just enough to keep us from starving. Anyway, remember that, when you hear them out there talk about how much extra we have. Speaking of which,” she turned and strode resolutely away.

She led him out of the fields and into a large barn next to the main building. It looked like the barn had once been red but had faded to its current muddled brown, settling into the pattern of eternal winter dampening everything, even colors.

She pulled open the door, throwing herself against it (she really was rather small) and motioned for him to enter first. He felt like a hostage again as he entered in front of his warden.

Against the far wall was what looked like a mountain of food. David had never seen so much in his life. There were crates upon crates stacked against the wall, some filled with jars, a few with cans. There were gunny sacks that looked like they must be full of wheat, along with cans of all shapes and sizes. Awe exploded inside him, and he was at once full of joy at the sight and anger at the fact that they refused to share what they had.

“Looks like a lot, huh?” Ann said, standing beside him, regarding the mound of supplies with a slight grin.

“I don’t get—”

“Why we don’t share it with everyone who asks?” she finished his thought. “I know, everyone who has come in from the outside has said the same thing, that they’ve never seen so much food in their lives, at least not since before.” She looked over at David with unadulterated curiosity, as if he were an animal in a zoo. “It’s really not that much. When you think about how many of us there are here
—”

“How many of you are there?” he interrupted.

“I’m really not supposed to tell you that.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Why?”

“What if you decided to lead the Outliers in a massive raid against us? I don’t think that will happen, I don’t think it would do much good, and they know that, but still. Knowing exactly how many of us there are? I don’t think so. If they want to try it, they’ll just have to guess.” They really didn’t trust him. He understood, but couldn’t help feeling a little offended.

“Fair enough. Rough estimate?”

“How many people do you think there are here?” she asked him.

“Well,” he started, knowing that if he was wildly off, maybe even if he was dead-on, she would just laugh and that would be the end of it, “if I had to guess, I would say there’s, maybe, sixty? Seventy?”

A derisive chuckle escaped her throat before she stifled her amusement. “More than that.”

“A hundred…?”

“I’m not going there. That’s all you get.”

He cursed himself, hoping she wasn’t saying that just to throw him off. There had to be at least fifty; he had seen that many people so far this morning, right?

“There aren’t a lot of us,” she repeated, “but believe me when I say, this will get us through the winter, and there won’t be much left over. It doesn’t help that winter still lasts for most of the year.”