Outpost (Razorland 2)

Hobbs made our report to Longshot, who nodded thoughtfully. “I’ll send a runner to town to get the growers out here to tend the crops.”

“Glad it’s not my job,” I muttered.

Longshot flashed me a smile. “Me too. From what I can see, your skills tend toward killing things.”

The boss called a briefing thereafter. “We’re starting furloughs tomorrow, as promised. I’ll draw lots to see which squads go first. Then you can vote amongst yourselves as to who goes first. You’ll go off duty in pairs, understand?”

That sent a wave of excitement through the camp. Many men had families in town, and they weren’t used to being away from them. As for me, I longed to see Tegan and the Oakses, but I could wait. To my surprise, our team came up in the second round. My crew appeared delighted with our good fortune; the other guards liked Hobbs and Frank well enough not to complain too loudly.

Just before dark, the last patrol returned, carrying an unexpected boon. They’d shot a deer, already field dressed and cut into manageable chunks of meat. It smelled delicious roasting on the fire, and everyone was glad to wait a little longer to avoid more hard tack and dry meat. I joined the food line near the end, and took my plate over to where Frank sat, devouring the juicy venison with obvious relish.

For a few moments, we ate in silence while I tried not to notice Stalker and Fade arguing on the other side of camp. Their faces bore twin scowls, and Fade had his hands curled into fists. Now and again, they glanced at me, which made me think they were fighting about me somehow, but they weren’t speaking loud enough for anyone to overhear.

It isn’t my business, I told myself. I wouldn’t go over and intervene.

“What are you going to do in town?” Frank asked, distracting me.

“Take a bath.”

He laughed like I was kidding. “I’m gonna eat all the cake I can hold.”

Sweets were off the menu out here, so I could understand his craving. I listened with half an ear as he yammered on about how well his mother cooked. While I watched, the boys concluded their argument and Fade wheeled away to queue for some roast venison. The blond boy followed with a surly expression, chin up in a way that said he was spoiling for a fight.

Stalker hadn’t been pleased with our plan of inaction in regard to the Freaks. I didn’t blame him. The Huntress in me fought the urge to resolve the threat, but I respected Longshot’s orders. Yet that village in the forest bothered me—not just because it meant Freaks were acting counter to my expectations.

“This seat taken?” The question came from the man I’d guessed least likely to seek my company, Gary Miles. We had tangled twice, first with his stupid joke about me, and then over his failure on watch. Consequently, he’d loathed me ever since. Miles had a rat-faced look with a long, pointed nose and a nonexistent chin. Graying hair fell in lank locks down to his shoulders, and he reeked like a bucket of vomit. None of us smelled great, granted, but he didn’t even do spot washes.

I didn’t want him to join us, but I couldn’t conceive a way to refuse without being churlish. So I said, “Suit yourself.”

“What are we talking about?” he asked, once he made himself comfortable. His smile showed brown-stained teeth, some broken and black at the roots. There was no way around it; the man made my skin crawl, almost as bad as the first time Fade and I came upon a Freak feeding in the dark.

“What we’re going to do when we get our furloughs,” Frank answered.

Miles tightened his mouth into a bitter white line, but the look was gone before I could be sure of it, replaced with false friendliness. “Isn’t it lucky you get to go so soon?”

“Longshot drew for it,” I pointed out.

His amiability cracked. “And you’ve got him wrapped around your little finger, don’t you, puss? There’s no fool like an old fool. We all saw how you stood by him, exchanging soulful glances, while we busted our asses to learn fighting techniques that we’ll never use.”

Surely he wasn’t implying I garnered special treatment by breeding with our commander? That was utterly disgusting—not because Longshot was old and horrible, but because he’d never do something so blatantly unjust and immoral. I eyed Miles with open dislike; he had a mind like the latrine he’d dug for punishment.

Evidently, Frank came to the same conclusion because he shook his head. “You’re talking nonsense.”

“It was her idea that we all get posted here, and now she struts around like she owns the place.” He put a dirty hand on my thigh. “It’s only fair she gives me a little consolation, ain’t it?”

With my left hand, I whipped my knife from its sheath and I pricked him between the thighs. I knew exactly what I was doing when his face paled, throat working with sudden fear. Frank looked as if he feared to intervene—and well he should have. If he’d touched me, I might have castrated somebody.

“Leave me alone,” I warned him. “It’s out of respect for Longshot that I’m not killing you, but if you trouble me again, I will, and that’s a promise.”

When I eased back, he scrambled to his feet. “This isn’t over.”

“Yes, it is.” I didn’t do him the honor of watching him walk away. That would imply I thought he was worthy of my wariness.

“Why do you think he’s so mad at you?” Frank asked.

“Some people just need somebody to blame.” But it was deeper than that for Miles, I thought. He was likely one of those men who couldn’t stand for a female to do anything besides cook his food and lie down for his pleasure. If he had a partner back in Salvation, she had my sympathies.

Fade put his hand on my shoulder, dropping down beside me. It was funny, because Frank immediately felt the need to be elsewhere. I supposed Fade had made it clear how he felt about me when he first defended me from Miles. His face tightened with chagrin that he hadn’t been here to threaten the guy again.

“Don’t worry about it,” I said, absolving him. “I can handle myself.”

“Miles is going to be a problem for you,” he said.

I nodded. “I don’t think it’s going away. It would be best if Longshot replaced him, but that would send the message that giving me a hard time gets a man posted back to Salvation.”

He set his hand on my thigh, consciously erasing the memory of Miles’s greasy fingers on my leg. I didn’t mind. Fade had the right to touch me. But he drew his hand back before anyone could remark on the familiarity and then come at me later with evil insinuations.

“Any ideas on how to discourage him?” he asked.

I had lots of them, all unpleasant. “I might have to kill him.”

That made him smile. “Short of that.”

“I prefer the killing,” I muttered.

“Me too. But it might be bad for morale.” He considered for a moment, and then slid me a sidelong glance. “We could deliver him as a gift to the Freak village.”

“Tempting. What were you saying to Stalker earlier?”

He froze, dark eyes flickering guiltily to his plate. “You noticed that?”

“The whole camp did.” I nudged him with a gentle elbow. “Come on, tell me.”

“I might’ve mentioned that he needs to stop staring at you like a hungry wolf.”

I slid Fade a sidelong look. “Isn’t it enough that I gave you exclusive kissing rights? What does it matter how he looks at me?”

Color touched the tops of his sculpted cheekbones, and my fingers itched with the impulse to smooth his raven hair away from his forehead. “When you put it that way…” Fade leaned close to whisper, “I’m dying to be alone with you.”

At his words, an ache sprang up—and I almost touched my lips in memory. I wished we’d stolen a moment the night before, but Stalker had been there, and I couldn’t feel right about flinging our closeness in his face, especially when he craved that connection with me himself. Rejection didn’t mean rubbing salt in the wound.

My body felt like it could light the whole outpost with anticipation. “We’ll be in Salvation next week. Not on duty.”

His answering smile said he couldn’t wait.

Furlough

A week trickled by in relative quiet, though I sensed trouble brewing from Gary Miles. He had a small, bitter crew who watched me as I went on patrol. They never crossed any lines so I could report them to Longshot, but they made it clear we were enemies. Stupid. We didn’t need trouble at the outpost; Salvation already had more than it could handle. To reassure myself, I touched the bloodstained card I kept in my pocket at all times. As long as it was intact, nothing truly dreadful could happen to me. That was enclave lore. Unfortunately, I didn’t know if I believed it anymore.

If we put faith in anything down below, it was in the power of a naming token. My foster mother would say it held something of our souls … but that was a confusing thought. Stalker—and all of the folks in Salvation—lacked such an item, so did that mean they were soulless or just unprotected? Maybe it was nonsense, something the Wordkeepers thought up a long time ago.

The first team went on furlough without incident, two by two. Then our squad took a vote and decreed Fade and I should go together for the first holiday. At first it seemed too good to be true, and if I hadn’t been so excited, I might’ve been embarrassed, as the vote led to ribbing from Frank and Hobbs as well as a sullen growl from Stalker. To my mind, it had been wise of Longshot to draw for each squad, and then let them decide who went on leave in what order. That move offered the sense of having some control over their lives. He might not think he was a natural leader of men, but from where I sat, he was doing a fine job.

Before we left, Longshot paid us our due. This was the first time I’d earned any tokens of my own, but as a guard, I received a small stipend in return for my work, as he’d promised earlier. These small bits of wood could be traded for goods and services in town. Holding them made me feel more powerful.

Fade and I set out for Salvation after the last of the first crew returned, carrying letters and treats from families in town. There was some risk in this because the Freaks might decide to pick us off, but we could move fast, and if necessary, sprint for the gates if threatened with a battle we couldn’t win. He set a bruising clip, reminiscent of our run to Nassau.

“Do you think the Oakses will put me up again?” he asked as we ran.

I breathed through my nose, pacing myself so as not to become winded. “She said you’re welcome anytime.”

“Sometimes that’s just what people say.”

“Momma Oaks isn’t like that. Neither is Edmund.”

He nodded. “I didn’t think so, but you know them better.”

Branches and leaves crackled, the movement seeming to keep pace with us. Attention drawn, I focused on our surroundings. “Do you hear that?”

“Something’s following us.”

Both of us knew what it must be. The only question was how many … and would they strike before we reached safety? Even if the ones we’d spotted in the village weren’t the best fighters, it didn’t mean they couldn’t attack. They might take the opportunity to target easy prey. If they hit us, it certainly revealed a particular, calculating intelligence. It meant they watched and gauged their assaults according to our behavior. Terrifying thought. Life had been difficult enough when they acted like mindless monsters.