Forsada: Volume II in the New Eden series (6 page)

“Thank god,” mumbles Garrett. “He’ll get there in a few hours. It would take us all day, maybe more since we’d have to bushwhack it along the ridge.”

I nod slowly in silence, my eyes locked on the place where the speeding rider disappeared around the last visible turn in the road. He’ll get to Upper by nightfall, maybe earlier. I only hope he has better luck than I did at the Council. Hell, they might not even believe him.

Without thinking, I ask, “Was that Shack?”

“What? No.” Garrett looks at me with confusion. “I don’t know who it was, but it definitely was not Shack. Have you ever seen Shack ride like that?”

Good point. The boy is great in a fight, but there’s not a horse on Earth that could carry him that smoothly or that fast without dumping him.

Garrett begins walking onward. “Besides, her hair was too dark. At least, I think it was a girl. I couldn’t really see. Too many trees.”

We’ve begun walking again as we talk. It seems easier now, now that we’re not carrying the burden of saving Upper. Someone else is doing that. We go a half mile, descending into the forest and away from the ridge, toward the trail split. We walk in silence, listening to the quiet with gratitude. Either the battle is over, or we’ve wandered far enough away that we can’t hear it. I don’t want that to make it easier, but it does.

We turn the corner and reach the trail split, where we pause. My mouth and throat are dry with dust and the late morning. God, how I wish I had some water. The whispers of the river are so tantalizing. We could turn left and drop down into the valley, hike along the road beside the river. But what if the army is already on the road?

“Hello,” says a voice from nowhere. “That took you long enough.”

It’s Shack, but in the forest it sounds like his voice falls on us from overhead. We all look up, startled, and see him on an enormous granite boulder. He stands tall, then leaps to one side, swings on a thick branch, and bounds down the steep hillside to stand before us with a huge, smug grin on his grimy face.

Does he not know what’s happened? How can he play around like this? How can he smile? I mean, I’m a little glad to see him, too, but no amount of happy would make me smile. I might never smile again as long as I live. At least, not until I see Darius dead at my feet.

Shack looks at us each in turn, his grin fading and a grim recognition creeping into his eyes.

“You…” He begins but trails off. “You don’t know, do you?”

He squints at his brother, then looks at me.

“Lupay, you were right. About most things.”

Most things?

“But not everything.”

Why can’t the fool just spit it out?

“After they got across the bridge, only a few of us fought back. Some tried to run but were chased down. The ones that fought were all killed. But the rest—Lupay, they’re prisoners. The Southshawans didn’t kill them.”

“What? Shack, if this is some joke, it’s sick.”

“No! It’s—”

“Seriously,” I continue, letting my thoughts just flow from my mouth. “I saw the attack. I saw them charge the bridge. No way they were going to let anyone live. Shack, I know a little about Darius and what the Southshawans think. They aren’t going to let any of us live.”

“Like I said, Loop. You were right about a lot of things. But not everything.”

Can he be serious? Could some of our friends still be alive? My mother? Could my mother still be alive?

I want to ask, but Shack reaches out and lifts two of the heavy satchels from my shoulder. “We should move on, Loop. The faster we get to Upper, the more time they’ll have to be ready.”

I let him take the bags, grateful for the relief on my aching shoulders. Garrett holds out two of his own satchels for Shack to take, but when Shack reaches for them, Garrett shoves hard and knocks him back into the dirt on the hillside.

“What the—” Shack stumbles and kicks up dirt, scrambles to his feet. I’m worried that they’re going to fight, but Garrett doesn’t dive on his brother. When they’re mad, they usually go at it pretty hard, like two dogs scrapping over some meat.

Garrett drops his other satchels with a thud to the path and straightens. His fingers curl into fists, but they stay at his side. As Shack rises to stand in front of him, Garrett gives him his meanest scowl. Which wouldn’t intimidate most children, let alone his brother.

Garrett growls out the words. “What a jerk you are, Shack. That’s it? Nothing about Lupay’s mom, nothing about our father, nothing about anything but ‘they’re prisoners’?”

“What!” It’s not a question so much as a verbal punch. “I don’t know, okay?” Shack dusts himself off, beating at his thick pants with hands that are more filthy than the ground he just fell on.

“How can you not know?”

It’s like Garrett is asking my questions for me. I hate when he does that. Before Shack can reply, I butt in. “Yeah. How do you know they’re prisoners if you don’t even know who’s alive?”

Shack stares from me to Garrett, Garrett to me. He frowns and laughs at the same time. He shakes his head with a sneer. His long. brown hair is matted with sweat and dirt and twigs and leaves and soot. His face is blackened with ash and reddened with the morning’s fire and sun, and a purple bruise announces where his father’s fist connected just a couple hours ago. Maybe I shouldn’t have been so harsh, should have toned down my voice a bit. He’s had a rough morning, too.

Instead, I cross my arms and stare harder. He doesn’t really deserve it, but he sort of does. The fool. It’s too bad his mother disappeared so many years ago. He really could have used a bit of motherly wisdom to go with his father’s tough teaching.

“Okay, so I’m sorry.” Like usual. He gets it now. It takes a minute, but he always gets it. “I should have looked, maybe. But I really couldn’t get that close.”

We don’t move. If we wait for more, he’ll give it.

“Hey, I got as far down the hill as I could without getting caught. By then, they’d already begun rounding up everyone. They dragged them all down to the beach.”

The beach? Maybe they’re planning on drowning them all. Why would Darius drive them to the beach? Cleaner to kill them all there than in the town. Makes sense. In a twisted, evil sort of way.

“I don’t know, a couple hundred. I couldn’t hear anything they were saying, but I can tell you this. It was planned. It wasn’t something they just decided after the first attack. No way could they have gotten the orders out in that chaos, been so efficient dragging them down the hill. It was planned.”

I soften a moment and let this sink in. Lambs to slaughter. Darius is efficient, and very clever. The way he set up Dane and used his own men to convince everyone Tawtrukk had attacked them. Probably Darius just wants to kill them all in one place. Easier to round them up and have one mass burial than to try to gather up dead, bloody bodies from all over town.

Garrett’s hand rests softly on my shoulder. “Loop. Let’s go. We can’t do anything now. But we can get to Upper and warn them.”

“No,” I say, surprising us all. “Not Upper.”

Garrett comes around to stand next to his twin brother. They both stare hard at me.

“Don’t worry,” I say. “I don’t have heat stroke or the Rabies or anything.”

Not Upper. The rider. She’ll warn Upper. They’ll have to do the best they can for themselves.

“Sikwaa.” It’s one of the two Lodgeholm men who says the word that had just formed in my head. I smile and nod at him. He’s smart. I should keep him near.

Garrett mouths the word in silence, and I can see the thoughts tumbling through his head. He’s smart, too, but he doesn’t grasp it at first.

Shack just doesn’t get it at all. But he nods like he does. “Sikwaa. Whatever you say, Loop.” He hefts the four satchels from the ground and turns to begin walking up the trail to the right.

Garrett eyes me one last time. “I don’t get it, Loop. But I’m sure you’ll explain.”

I won’t have to. He’ll work it out.

CHAPTER 7

Although we crossed the river just an hour ago, my whole body feels like a peeled apple left in the summer sun. When I try to swallow, it’s like my throat is made of dust. At least we’re rising back up the canyon of Sikwaa now, and I won’t have to lug these heavy bags much farther. I stay out in front of the twins, mostly because I’m sick of answering Garrett’s complaints. The two Lodgeholm guys cut straight across to the ridge trail to try to find the others who escaped from Lodgeholm.

Garrett never did work it out. Even when I explained it, he still argued we should be going to Upper instead.

He sighs too loud. “We’re just wasting time here.”

Oh, Garrett, will you shut up already?

“If you think that, then go. Go to Upper. Whatever.” I don’t really want him to go, but right now I don’t want him here either. I wish he’d stop whining.

We trudge on another minute before he moans again. “There’s nothing
here
, Loop. It’s just hermits and crazy people.”

I have no comeback for that. He’s right, and it’s what we’ve all been thinking silently since the river. It seemed a good plan when it hit me on the ridge, but now that we’re among the twisted pines with their dark bark and scrubby, gnarled underbrush…

Shack’s voice strains, I guess under the weight of the satchels draped on him like on a pack mule. “Give it a rest, will you, Garrett? You’re not leaving, so just—”

A loud thump behind me makes me stop and turn. Garrett’s dropped the bags he was carrying and faces his brother. Shack, coming up behind him, stops short, his broad shoulders sagging and his back bent. Garrett straightens to his skinny tallest.

Shack sighs and lets the half dozen heavy bags he’s carrying slip gently to the dirt. His bronzed shoulders glare red from the straps and hours of shirtless hiking under the summer sun. He grimaces and shakes his head slowly.

We all know how this will turn out, but when Garrett’s like this he won’t back down. I wish Shack didn’t have to go through this now. But he knows how to take a few punches. His father trained him well.

I expect Shack to say something like
c’mon not now
or
let’s get this over with.
Instead, he puts his hands on his hips and says, “Garrett, look. You’re smart, right? You know that Sikwaa’s the last place on Earth I want to be. But going to Upper would be useless. You know that. So just shut up.” They stare each other down for a few seconds. Shack finishes with, “Look me in the eye and tell me you could leave Lupay. Go ahead.”

What does he mean by that?

“Bastard,” Garrett says and leaps at his brother with a quick left grab and right hook.

Shack dodges, and Garrett’s fist hits shoulder instead of chin. Shack staggers sideways, then swings back. Hard. I expected the return punch but not the terrifying power. The blow grazes Garrett’s twisting side, and they fall past each other.

In an instant they’ve spun and come at each other again. Now that I see Garrett’s face, his fury chills me. He really means to hurt his brother this time.

Before I can say anything, Garrett leaps with a growl, tackling him to the rocky dirt and landing on him with a heavy thump. Shack’s thick arms wrap around his brother and squeeze in a bear hug, pinning Garrett’s arms to his sides. The two roll around on the ground, kicking up dust and knocking the satchels over, spilling bread and tools and clothing into the dust.

Garrett curses, and they’re both grunting. Legs flail, and a knee drives into Shack’s thigh. Garrett wiggles free and rises up to sit on top of his brother like he’s riding a horse. He raises his fist and brings it down hard sideways once on Shack’s cheek, right where his father’s fist struck him this morning.

Shack roars with rage and catches Garrett’s next punch with one hand. He pushes up from the ground, bucking Garrett off him and backwards into the dirt, and before the roar is complete he’s towering over his brother.

I drop my bags and jump between them, screaming. “Stop!” It sounds like a hawk’s screech, but I have to stop Shack from killing his brother.

Shack’s thick arm bulls me aside, and I fall onto my butt in the dirt. Garrett scuttles backwards away from his brother, and I scramble to my feet and try to get between them.

“Stay back. You can’t stop it this time.” Shack takes one step forward, then stops. “C’mon brother, let’s do this. You got the guts to stand up to me for real? Go ahead.” He turns his face so the bruise is pointed at Garrett. “Take your best shot. Don’t worry, I won’t stop you. You want to hit me, go ahead.”

I can see Garrett working this out, the bravado seeping out of his eyes.

Shack’s voice goes quiet and cold. “Just remember, if you hit me again like Dad hit me… You and me? We’re done.” He stands as still as a statue for the next few seconds, waiting for Garrett’s answer.

I want to tell Garrett not to be a fool, but now it’s between them. They’ve fought over me before, but this time I don’t think it’s about me. It’s something deeper, something that snapped in them both this morning. Something that snapped in us all.

Garrett stands slowly, his eyes unblinking on Shack. His clenched jaw grinds like it always does when he’s thinking hard. He can’t possibly consider hitting Shack, can he? Shack would thrash him. All three of us know it.

Garrett breathes hard, like he’s about to charge. He’s so predictable. The fool is too courageous for his own good. Shack stands solid and unmovable. I can’t see his eyes, but I don’t need to. I saw them this morning at Lodgeholm and again in the square when his father struck him. He holds so much inside all the time, and when his eyes look like stone walls, he lets it all out in his fists.

“Garrett—”

Damn my thin, weak voice. I sound like a fricking kitten.

Garrett suddenly spits at Shack’s feet. Then he holds out his hands, palms up, and shrugs.

“Garrett—” Less kittenish now but still weak. I’m not even sure he heard me.

Garrett laughs a derisive, dismissive cough, then shakes his head. “We should be in Upper already. We should be fighting them, not each other.”

Suddenly he stomps at me, stands right in front of me, leans into my face. He’s as tall as Shack, but I’ve never thought of him like that. He’s not as muscular, but as he menaces me close, I see he could crush me if he wanted.

“What’re you doing, Loop? What’re you doing?” He spins away, looking around and up at the peaks surrounding us. When he stops, he looks right into my eyes again. “What the hell are you going to do here? In Sikwaa? In nowhere!”

It’s like Shack hasn’t moved, but I know he’s inched closer to protect me. Garrett is losing it.

“There’s nothing here, Loop.” Garrett sounds a little manic now, his voice cracking and his hands flailing around like he’s drunk. “Crazy people! Squirrels! Nothing! You don’t even
have
a plan, do you?” The words hit me as hard as the spit that flies from his mouth.

I don’t answer. He’s right. I don’t have a plan. Not a real one. I don’t know what I’m going to do. But he’s also wrong. And it’s pissing me off.

“Shut it, cabron. Just shut your mouth.” I don’t even know what I’m going to say to him. But whatever it is, I’m going to say it loud and mad. Because that’s how I feel.

“Plan? You want a plan? How about your plan, mister genius? Oh, sure, let’s all go get killed in Upper, let’s walk into the trap just like Marshall Turner and get our heads chopped off. At least then we’d be doing something! We’d be
somewhere
!” Yelling hurts. Everything hurts. “You know what I mean. Only two things could happen in Upper. We die, or we get captured. My father already knew that when he followed Turner out across the bridge.”

“Your father did what was right.”

“My father did what was stupid!” I couldn’t have hit him harder if I’d whaled him in the stomach with a forge hammer. Ever since the twins left their own father, Papi has been the best they’ve had.

I feel ruined. I’m sorry, Papi. I don’t mean to disrespect the dead or to talk bad of you. I know you did what you think was right, but you knew you were walking to your death. I wonder, in those final seconds, did you think about me? Did you regret following your principles when you saw those axes? Principles are important, but they’re no good when you’re dead. And I don’t intend to be dead any time soon.

“Your father was an honorable man,” Garrett says low and slow.

“Honorable and stu—mistaken. My father was a smart man who did a stupid thing. He was everything to me. He believed in something so much that he was willing to die for it.”

“That’s honor.”

“That’s stupid. Dying for what you believe in always sounds a lot better in the council room than it does when the axe is falling on your head. But if that’s what you want, you go right ahead. Go to Upper. Die with the rest. It’s your life.”

I worry to hell that he’ll do it.

“Maybe you see honor in dying, Garrett, but I don’t. There’s only dying in dying. You want my plan? You want to know my plan? Not dying, that’s my plan. You think we can’t do anything in Sikwaa? I got news for you, mihito. You
really
can’t do anything when you’re dead.”

Shack hasn’t moved. Garrett sways a little, still but unsteady like a tall tree in a strong wind. He doesn’t grind his jaw. He doesn’t clench his fists. He’s not working anything out. He’s just there, exhausted and destroyed. Just like me.

Slowly, his voice rises to us. “If everyone else is dead, though, Loop… well, what’s the point in living knowing you didn’t even try to help?” He sounds sad, quiet. Defeated.

And he’s right. We don’t have any good choices. Darius wins. No matter what, Darius wins. We go help Upper and die, or we hide out and live, but for what?

“Oh, pshaw!” Another voice, raspy and breathless, breaks our little circle. “Who said we ain’t gonna help?”

From the woods comes a heavy man, no taller than I am but round like a barrel and waddling like his knees are tied together. His short arms stick out from his sides and wave back and forth as he walks fast between us. Micktuk.

I’ve only seen him a couple of times, from a distance, when he’s come into Lower with his two mules to get six months outfitting. Twice a year he shows up in town, his deep brown bald head covered by a handmade, straw hat. I’ve never heard him speak before, but his voice seems more childlike and raw than I imagined. I thought it would be slow and deep like a swollen river, but it’s sharp and clickety and full of hitches and gaps.

He drops himself like a fence post directly in the middle of the three of us, and he turns slowly while he talks.

“You all just shet up now and listen to Micktuk. Ain’t no one goin’ to Upper. Ain’t no sense. Girlie here knows it. Hell, you both knows it, too.”

I just don’t know how to react to this strange man. Everyone says he’s a bit crazy. Everyone but my dad. My dad just says he’s haunted by demons from his past. Funny thing to say about someone living in Sikwaa. Shack and Garrett bristle. They’re scared of Micktuk, but they don’t know any more about him than I do.

“And don’t be brawlin’ with each other. Save the hittin’ for them Southshawans.”

Sounds good to me. Something in the way he stands, in his childlike voice makes me trust him. He’ll know what to do. This powerful, little man will tell us how to strike back.

We wait, but he doesn’t say anything else. Shack shrugs, and Garrett rolls his eyes. I shake my head at them both. I don’t know what to say.

Eventually, Shack breaks the silence. “So… Mister Micktuk. What do we do?”

Micktuk cocks his head to one side like a fat, hairless, dark brown dog. “I dunno. Ask girlie.”

The boys look at me when Micktuk points his stubby arm in my direction. Shack smirks. Garret drops his mouth open.

“From what I seen, she’s the smart one. You two boys bout like to knock each other senseless, which ain’t a lot to knock if you know what I mean, but girlie knows to come here.”

I wish he’d stop calling me girlie.

“Lupay,” says Garrett. “Her name is Lupay.”

“Lupay, dupay, moopay. Hideyhood, rideyhood. Heh heh heh!” He’s missing about half his teeth, and his cackling giggle makes me wonder if maybe he’s totally nuts. He giggles for a few seconds, and none of us can figure out what could be funny. I can tell it irritates Garrett, who’s probably thinking he was right all along. Crazy people and squirrels.

Micktuk’s giggle is childish and high pitched, but there’s nothing crazy in his eyes. Just the opposite. He’s hiding it in his crazy act, but his sharp glances from the side pierce each of us in examination. He’s more than he seems. But in what way?

Garrett sighs hard, frustrated. “Mister Micktuk—”

“Jes’ Micktuk. Ain’t no mister here.”

“Whatever. Why is it good that Lupay wanted us to come here?”

“Eh? Still ain’t catched it yet?” He sucks on his teeth and waddles to face Garrett. After a quick once-over, he squints. “Shem’s boy, yeh?” He wheels and cocks his head at Shack. “And t’other one, too. Yeh, yeh. Shem’s boys. Good, good.” His voice wanders off into his own thoughts for a moment, but he snaps back quickly.

“Why come here? It’s Sikwaa. Only safe place. Hidden.”