The Land of the Shadow (39 page)

“Wait,” Kross said. “In the movie, didn’t that orc—”

Carly kicked him. He shut up.

“This is the best I can do for you,” Justin said. He looked down at Dagny, dozing in his arms. “It’s the best I can do for her. If we don’t come back, or they try to split their forces and attack while we’re gone—”

“They won’t,” Carly said with confidence. “They won’t get by us. But just in case . . .” She looked around at the people with her, the faces of the community she loved, some scared, some grim, some eager for any shred of hope she could give them. “You know how Justin is. He wants to plan for every possibility, no matter how unlikely.” She gave them a smile, and a few people responded in kind.

“If we’re not back in twelve hours, noncombatants take refuge in here. The rest of you follow what I told you and everything will be fine.” Justin’s voice rang with quiet confidence, and some people relaxed. He had been right when he told her earlier that people just wanted a plan, something on which they could depend, something on which they could pin their hopes.

Justin had once mentioned Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. She couldn’t remember them all, but after security and sustenance came love and community. Carly would have ranked hope in there, a fuel that kept people going when things seemed their darkest.

Justin had always moved best under the cover of darkness. His night vision was sharp, his senses alert. He approached Clayton, taking a path through the side of town rather than using the main road.

He circled around the quiet streets and searched for any sign of fortification, but everything appeared the same as it had months before, when Clayton was vacant and Justin had first searched for supplies. Marcus and his group hadn’t done much in terms of improvement or settlement. There were no signs of farming—the few garden patches he saw were overgrown jungles of weeds.

Marcus had scoffed at Colby’s security, but his own was scant. There were only two men stationed as pickets on the outskirts of the town, and neither was actually watching. One was reading, and the other was asleep, his chin tucked down on his chest. His rifle had slid off his knees and the end of the barrel was jabbing into the ground by his shoe. Justin shook his head as he walked right by the guy toward his destination, the courthouse.

He crept in from behind it, and his nose alerted him before his eyes could. There were bodies piled near an emergency exit door at the rear of the courthouse. The three corpses on top were fresh—one male and two female, all seriously underweight and bearing evidence of blunt-force trauma wounds. One of the women had a rope tied around her wrists so tight that it cut into the flesh. In his mind, Justin heard Carly cry out in horror at the sight. She would weep. She would want to give them a decent burial. He couldn’t do that, but there was one thing he could do. He cut the rope free with a quick slice of his knife. He knew it was pointless, but he felt better after doing it.

He paused at a window to listen, but he heard only a few soft bumps of people moving around inside. The slaves must have all bedded down for the night. He crouched low, approaching a bush near the corner with silent steps. As he’d hoped, there were a few men around the campfire in front of the courthouse, perhaps to keep the people inside from escaping while waiting for travelers to happen by. It was the same location where they’d been sitting the day he, Pearl, and Kaden had discovered this group.

Justin could smell cooking meat and hear the hiss of it frying under the low murmurs of conversation. A voice rose above the others.

“I’m sick of eating this shit. Alligator? This is fuckin’ disgusting.”

“We’ll be eating better soon,” another voice said.

“Oh, man, you don’t want to know what I’d do for a steak right now. I can’t wait.”

“I want a hamburger. Do you think we could make one?”

The men discussed the logistics of how they could shred, chop or grind up some of the meat for a few minutes before deciding steak would have to do, because it seemed like far too much work. Someone noted that a hamburger just wouldn’t be the same without a bun and the condiments, and that settled it.

“That cow won’t last long,” the first voice said. “You see a fuckin’ refrigerator around here?”

“Who cares? We’ll eat good for a couple of days at least.”

“They got horses, too. We could eat those.”

The first voice made a sound of disgust. “You can’t eat horses. That’s gross!”

“Why not? They’re just like a cow, eatin’ grass and shit.”

“You just . . . don’t. People don’t eat horses.”

“The French do.”

“Fuckin’ French also eat snails. Shut up, Charlie.”

“What are we gonna do with ’em if we don’t eat ’em?”

“Keep them, I suppose. Marcus ain’t said. They’d be a hell of a lot easier to make pull the wagons than those fuckin’ burn-outs, anyway.”

“I don’t know why we don’t just go
now.
”

“Marcus said he ain’t got everything ready yet.”

“We got enough guns.”

“Yeah, but he’s still missing ammo for the twenty-twos.”

“He said he’s got a couple more houses on that gun store mailing list to check. They’re gonna go in the morning. That’s why he went to bed so early.”

One of them stood. “I think I’ll go inside for a bit.” He nodded toward the courthouse.

The first voice laughed. “Jesus, Nate. Third time today!”

“Can’t help it. Kinda nervous about this raid, and it makes me sort of . . . antsy.”

“Ain’t nothin’ to be worried about, man. It’ll be over quick. They’re a bunch of farmers. They ain’t even got enough guns to go around since Billy burned that leader guy’s house down.”

“I’m not so sure. Marcus said it looked like they’d been tryin’ to build the place up. And it ain’t gonna be a surprise like we usually do. They know we’re coming.”

“And they’re probably shitting themselves with fear about it. They’re tryin’ to build up because they know they can’t fight us off. Don’t you see? Buncha women and kids, too. Marcus said they’re gonna be distracted, trying to defend them. It’ll be a piece of cake, Nate. You’ll see.”

“Yeah, maybe.” The man shuffled away from the group, and they laughed a little amongst themselves at his nerves, which they attributed to being green.

Justin slipped away and headed for the only house that had any light, a big Victorian on the adjacent street. Marcus liked to play his cards close to his chest, and he also seemed to like to keep a tight watch over his men and supplies.

The house had a trampled path worn through the overgrown lawn to the front door. Beside the corner of the porch, Justin found a pile of human remains wrapped in scraps of bedding—the former occupants, he presumed. A small skull lay beside it, braces gleaming on its teeth, its empty sockets staring up at the starless sky amid empty soup cans, beer cans, and wrappers. Their trash pile.

Peeking through one of the windows, Justin saw sleeping bags interspersed with boxes of gear and piles of trash. The group apparently saved nothing as trade goods—they consumed whatever foodstuffs they encountered on the spot. But what interested him more was the fact he saw no guns lying near the still forms on the pallet beds. Marcus must have kept them locked up when the men weren’t on patrol.

For the first time since he’d arrived in Clayton, Justin had something to smile about.

Mrs. Davis was alone in the living room when Carly arrived. She held Dagny in her arms, not in the carrier.

Carly sat down beside her. Dagny jabbered happily when she saw Mrs. Davis, waving the slobbery teething ring she held. Carly usually handed the baby off when she arrived, but this time, Carly wanted to hold on to her a little longer.

“Are you getting ready to leave?” Mrs. Davis asked. She said it like Carly was headed to the potato field instead of mortal combat.

“Yeah.” Carly smoothed Dagny’s wispy hair. Dagny grinned up at her, her dark eyes sparkling. Healthy and beautiful baby, completely unaware of the ugly aspects of the world.

“If we don’t come back—”

“Oh, Carly, you can’t think like that.”

“I have to.” She kissed the top of Dagny’s head, lingering as she inhaled her sweet baby scent. “I’d like Mindy to take her, but she might not . . .”

“Carly, you know whatever happens, we’ll take care of her. She’ll always be loved.”

Carly’s throat burned and pain tightened her chest. She had to unclench her teeth to speak. “Just don’t let her . . . don’t let her forget us?”

Mrs. Davis scooted over to put her arms around Carly’s shoulders. “Oh, honey, no. We won’t let her forget you. We won’t let anyone forget you or what you’ve done to build and protect this community.”

Carly kissed her daughter one last time and put the oblivious baby down to stand on the floor, clutching the edge of the coffee table. If she didn’t leave her now, she never would.

She held up her hand. “Stay,” she told Sam. The wolf looked almost wounded, but Carly was sure she was projecting. She knelt down and gave him a hug. She stared down into his amber eyes. “I need you to watch Dagny, okay?”

He didn’t signify he understood with a vocalization, but she thought she saw in his eyes that he understood far more than the humans believed. “Veronica has Buttercup. She promised she’d bring her by every day.” It was a promise Carly hoped she didn’t have to keep. They would be back the next day, she told herself.

Sam lay back down, his head propped on his forelegs. He looked relaxed, but his ears were perked and swiveling for sounds. Carly smiled.

She closed the door behind her and stepped out onto the porch, inhaling a shaky breath.

“Leaving?” It was the Reverend, seated on the porch swing, a book open in his lap.

She nodded. She couldn’t meet his eyes.

“Carly, you’re doing the right thing.”

She was surprised. “I would have thought you would be anti-war.”

“I am, generally speaking. But this isn’t war. This is self-preservation.” Reverend Davis stood and laid a hand on her shoulder. “Your choices aren’t easy, Carly. Sometimes, there are no choices left to us which seem right. Just keep in mind what you’re fighting for. Keep in mind your ideals of compassion and love. I believe if you hold them close to your heart, you will make the right decisions.”

“What time are we leaving?” Kaden asked as they cleaned up the dinner dishes. Carly struggled to swallow the few bites she’d forced down. The food felt like a stone in her belly.