The Seeds of Man (16 page)

One by one, Tre met other members of the gang. The first was a young man named Knife, a sobriquet that fit perfectly given his appearance. Knife was at least six-two, with a saturnine face, and tattoos on his arms. When they met, Knife was working at a small forge. It was, according to Bones, one of the amenities the miners had left behind.

The coal-fed fire glowed and threw off waves of welcome heat as Knife used metal tongs to pull a long strip of glowing metal out of the flames. After folding the blank he positioned it on an anvil and began to pound on it with a hammer. A sweaty sheen appeared on his pale white skin, and droplets flew as he worked. “It’s going to be a sword,” Bones explained. “A katana.”

Tre had read about Samurai swords and looked on with considerable interest as Knife worked. “This is Tre,” Bones said. He had to speak loudly in order to be heard over the ring of steel on steel.

The response was little more than a grunt of acknowledgment as Knife plunged the steel into a bucket of gray water. That was followed by a loud hiss and an explosion of steam. “I read that Japanese sword makers fold their steel up to sixteen times,” Tre said. “How many folds are you going to make?”

Knife frowned as he turned to look at the newcomer. “What’s your name again?”

“Tre.”

“Fourteen. I plan to fold the steel fourteen times.”

Tre nodded. “Can I watch?”

Knife looked at Bones and back. “No. But you can help.” That said, he turned back to his work.

“He likes you,” Bones said. “That was a long speech by Knife’s standards.”

Then Tre was taken to meet Smoke and Fade. They were “a couple,” as Bones put it and shared an alcove. As Bones announced their presence and ushered Tre into the area, both women turned to look. “Good morning, ladies,” Bones said cheerfully. “The patient is up and around.”

One of the women had black hair, brown skin, and almond-shaped eyes. She was dressed in a shirt that was tied at the waist, buckskin trousers, and pull-on boots. Her eyebrows rose. “Look, Fade . . . one of Bone’s patients survived! It’s a miracle.”

The other woman had blond hair, wide-set eyes, and a generous mouth. Her outfit was similar to Smoke’s. “You’re right . . . This is a first. And he’s cute too.”

Tre felt blood rush to his cheeks and hoped the women wouldn’t notice. “Ignore them,” Bones advised. “They claim to be our scouts but spend most of their time lounging about.” Smoke winked and Fade smiled. Tre tried to think of something to say, came up empty, and was eager to escape as Bones led him away.

“Time for lunch, Tre . . . No offense, but you’re kind of scrawny. We need to fatten you up.”

The “cafeteria” consisted of three improvised tables in the middle of the common area. The kitchen was centered around a large coal-fed stove the miners had left behind. And there, hard at work, was the man everyone called Hog—not because he was fat or ugly, but because he had a fondness for bacon, or so Bones claimed.

When Hog turned to look at them, there was a big smile on his face. “You’re up and around! That’s good. I was running out of gruel. Sit down and prepare for a feast!”

And it was a feast by Tre’s standards. The meal included pieces of freshly baked bread, slices of canned corned beef, and a pot of mustard. That was followed by slices of apple dusted with cinnamon and mugs of hot tea. All of it was delicious.

It had been a long time since anyone had prepared a meal for Tre. The last one he could remember had been cooked by his mother the day before her death. He pushed the memory away as Fade and Smoke sauntered in. Freak arrived shortly thereafter and made a point of sitting next to Tre. She looked at him and smiled. “Kneecap.”

Tre, who had no idea how to respond, shifted uneasily. Bones came to his rescue. “The best thing to do is assume that Freak is saying something appropriate. Like, ‘glad to see you.’”

Tre swallowed and looked at Freak. “You too.”

A teenager named Snake arrived at that point. He looked normal enough, and Tre was at a loss to understand the name, until the boy began to lick some mustard off his hand. That was when Tre saw Snake’s tongue. It was split at least halfway back and it appeared that both halves could move independently. Tre had never seen anything like that before and wondered if it was a birth defect.

As Tre listened to the gang members talk, he got the impression that there were others. Guards who would eat later, some “wranglers,” and a person named Crow—a man who, if Tre understood correctly, was the group’s leader.

Once Tre finished his meal, he felt unexpectedly tired, excused himself, and went back to the side gallery that Bones called “the dispensary.” He lay on a cot, pulled a blanket up under his chin, and let sleep carry him away.

Tre rose an hour later with plans to visit Knife and help with the sword, but just as he was about to leave the dispensary, Bones arrived. “There you are . . . How’s the head?”

“I feel better. Thanks.”

“Good. Crow wants to speak with you.”

Tre felt a sense of concern and wasn’t sure why. Because he didn’t like to talk to people that were in charge of things? Yes, but, like it or not, there was only one answer he could reasonably give. “Okay, when?”

“Right now,” Bones replied. “Come on.”

Tre followed Bones into the main tunnel, under a low arch, and into a chilly alcove. A wooden ladder led straight up. It creaked as Bones climbed and Tre followed.

Once on top, Tre stepped off into what might have been an exploratory tunnel. Bones led him down the passageway to a crude doorframe. “Go on in . . . Once you’re done, you know how to get down again.” And with that, he left.

Tre stepped into a vaguely circular space. An unmade bed stuck out from the far wall. It was flanked by a small stove on one side and a large chair on the other. Clutter lay everywhere. As Tre looked around, he saw a jumble of clothes, books, weapons, riding gear, rolled maps, and even a stuffed raccoon, all of which ran contrary to his natural sense of tidiness.

The man seated in the big chair was in his thirties, which made him old by post apocalyptic standards. He had a full head of black hair, a bladelike nose that was reminiscent of a beak, and a long face. The eyes that met Tre’s were half-hooded and thoughtful. Like his namesake, Crow was dressed entirely in black and lounged with one leg dangling over the arm of his chair. “Welcome. Have a seat.”

Tre looked, saw that a smaller chair was hidden under some discarded clothes, and sat on them. “So,” Crow began. “Your first name is Tre. Do you have a last name?”

“Ocho.”

“Ocho means ‘eight’ in Spanish . . . Did you know that?”

“No.”

“Eight is also the symbol of chaos,” Crow observed, “which is emblematic of the time we live in.”

Tre was uncertain of what to say, so he said nothing. If Crow was offended, he showed no sign of it. “I’m told that you remember the fight.”

“Yes.”

“There was a witness, you know . . . I had sent Knife and Brute to Afton. They were supposed to purchase certain items. Freak wanted to go along and Knife let her come. That was a poor decision, looking back on it, but understandable since Freak had been to Afton before and didn’t cause problems the first time.

“In any case, Freak wandered off while Knife was talking to a merchant. Brute noticed and went looking for her. By the time he arrived, the townies had a rope on her. In spite of the name, Brute is only four feet tall. So he was about to go get Knife when you entered the picture. The way he tells it, you made the locals look stupid. Then, when their leader was about to draw, you blew him away. It was, according to Brute, a thing of beauty.

“But a townie hit you from behind and you went down. The crowd lost interest after that. The gang leader’s toadies took his body away for burial. Knife, Brute, and Freak were going to do the same for you. Then Brute realized that you were still alive and they brought you here. Bones did the rest.”

Tre felt awkward. “Thank you.”

Crow laughed. “No, we’re the ones who should thank
you.
I don’t know if you noticed, but Freak has a crush on you.”

“What’s wrong with her?”

Crow shrugged. “We don’t know. Bones has a theory, though. He thinks something bad happened to her and Freak retreated deep inside. Who knows? Maybe he’s right. But do me a favor.”

“Yes?”

“Freak isn’t ready for a boy-girl relationship. If she comes on to you, ignore it.”

Tre remembered the kiss on the lips. “Understood.”

“Good. That brings us to you.”

“To me?”

“Yes. You’ve seen what we have here. It isn’t much compared with the way a food lord lives—but there are plenty of people who would like to take it away from us. You can join us or you can leave. If you decide to go, my people will take you down out of the mountains blindfolded. You understand why.”

“So I can’t tell anyone where the mine is.”

“Exactly. Now, before you make your decision, I want you to know something about us. We’re bandits. But you’re a bright lad and you knew that. But,” Crow said, “we’re something more as well. This group is the nucleus for what will become an army. Eventually, when we’re strong enough, we will challenge Voss for control of the Star Valley.”

Tre thought about that. And for once he knew what he wanted to say. “That holds no interest for me. One dictator is the same as another.”

Anger flared in Crow’s eyes, burned there for a moment, and died away. “Fair enough . . . I understand why you see things that way. But I—that is,
we
—have something different in mind. We envision a democracy. More than that, we want to reconstitute the United States of America. Do you know what that was?”

“Yes,” Tre said. “I read a book called
A People’s History of the United States
.”

Crow’s expression softened. “Then you know . . . You understand.”

Tre was silent for a moment. “Let’s say you succeed. How do I know you won’t decide to keep the power for yourself?”

Crow laughed. It had a harsh sound. “You’re a pain in the ass . . . How old are you anyway? Sixteen?”

“Twenty.”

Crow laughed again. His eyes grew serious. “Fight by my side, Tre . . . Be there when we win. Then, if I betray what we believe in, shoot me.”

Tre looked Crow in the eye, liked what he saw there, and gave his word. “I will.”

• • •

Tre’s strength continued to improve over the next couple of days, and working at the forge was a significant part of that improvement. Knife believed in learning by doing, so the first thing Tre was ordered to do was to mine a small quantity of coal and bring it forward in a squeaky wheelbarrow. Once that was accomplished, Knife put him to work pumping the bellows, a position that allowed him to see what was going on. And finally, under Knife’s direct supervision, Tre was allowed to work with hot metal—but not on the sword because that would require skills he hadn’t developed yet.

More important, perhaps, was the way the physical exercise helped him recover from his injury—so that by the time the spy arrived, he felt like himself again. No one knew the spy’s identity except for Crow, and very few of the gang got more than a glimpse of the hooded figure as he or she entered the mine and disappeared up the wooden ladder to the level above. One thing was for sure, though: Crow put a great deal of trust in whoever the person was, because the spy knew where the mine was located.

In any case, there was a good deal of suspense after the spy’s departure. And, being the newest member of the gang, Tre felt it more strongly than most, because if they went on a raid, he would have a lot to prove.

The spy left about midday, and it wasn’t until just before suppertime that Crow came down to mix with his followers. He had a rolled-up map tucked under one arm. “Okay, there aren’t any secrets around here, so you know that we had a visitor. And yes, we’re going on a raid. A
big
raid. Let’s spread the map out and I’ll show you how this is going to work.”

It took a moment to spread the map out on one of the tables and place pieces of silverware on the corners. Once the process was complete, people gathered around. By looking over Smoke’s head, Tre could see. “A caravan loaded with food is going to leave Star Valley bound for Laramie two days from now,” Crow announced. “We’re going to take the food, keep what we need, and give the rest away.”

Tre was reminded of a children’s book he had read. It was called
The
Adventures of Robin Hood
and was about a band of outlaws that robbed the rich and gave to the poor. Had Crow read that book as well? Not that it mattered. Supposing the bandit leader could capture the caravan and give food away, the effort would help build his reputation. This would be the first battle in a no-holds-barred war with Luther Voss. So that much made sense, and Tre approved. He looked around. If the others understood the strategic implications of the raid, he could see no sign of it on their faces.

“So,” Crow continued, “we will gear up today and leave early tomorrow morning. Once we pick up our horses, we will follow a variety of trails south until we reach the unpaved east-west road
here
.” As Crow spoke, a grubby finger stabbed a dirt road that led east from Star Valley to eventually make contact with a short stretch of Highway 350, which led to the town of Marbleton. Tre knew the road was unpaved because dots had been used to delineate the edges of it.

“Why is Voss sending his food over the mountains and through Marbleton?” Bones wondered out loud. “Wouldn’t it be easier to go south on 89, connect to 30, and link up with the interstate from there?”

“Yes, it would,” Crow replied. “But according to our spy, Voss is at war with Lord Hashi to the south. So if he sends his food down 89, he’ll run into trouble. This route is safer.”

“And they won’t be expecting an attack,” Hog put in. “I like that.”

“We will have the element of surprise on our side,” Crow agreed. “But don’t overestimate the value of that. This caravan is important to Voss.
Very
important. He’ll assign lots of guards to it.”

“How many?” Smoke inquired.

“I don’t know,” Crow answered. “That’s why I want you and Fade to leave as soon as you can. Ride hard, get in position off to the west, and let us know what you see as the caravan passes by.”