Ashes (Ashes Trilogy 1)

“Sort of. The Rev’s pretty hands-on, and the Council runs things and decides who goes where and does what on the basis of need.”

“Did you elect them or something?”

Kincaid shook his head. “The Five Families have been running Rule since the village got started. The Reverend’s family—the Yeagers—are the most important. They’re the richest, the first of the Five Families to settle Rule going on over a hundred and fifty years now. Owned the mine, built the village, started the church. The Rev and his brother took over the mine after their father died. Mine pretty much tapped out twenty years ago, but you got men here worked that mine their whole lives. That kind of loyalty and sense of family carries through in times like these. The Yeagers took care of people before, and people figure they will now.”

“So everyone listens to Pastor Yeager?”

“Reverend. Yeah. Let’s just say he’s the final arbiter.”

“What if everyone else on the Council disagrees with him?”

“Never happened yet.”

Everyone always agreed, always came around to one guy’s way of thinking? That didn’t sound good. They couldn’t always see eye to eye, could they? “But what if I want to leave? Ellie’s out there, and Tom—”

“Well, as I get it, you have no idea where they are. That right?”

“No, but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t be looking for them.”

“You got some bright ideas where you should start?”

She bit back a snarky retort. “No.”

“Then, until you do, might be best if you find a way to fit in here.”

“But Rule’s not my home,” she said. Lena’s words ghosted through her mind, and she was starting to get a very bad feeling about this. “You’re not my family.”

“Well, let’s see what we can do about that,” he said.

The village center wasn’t much. A large white church and rectory stood on the northwest corner. To the west was a sprawling, two-story village hall with high, arched windows and a clock tower made of old-fashioned brownstone. Due south, the square was lined by an ancient five-and-ten, a bakery next door to a small grocery called Murphy’s, Martha’s Diner—breakfast 24/7—and, at the end of the block, a combination Christian bookstore/ coffeehouse: Higher Grounds. Directly across the square from the coffeehouse was a shuttered bar, which from the looks of the vintage ads for Blatz and Ballantine beer festooning the brick face, hadn’t done business since the dinosaurs. Guards patrolled the sidewalk in front of the grocery, five-and-ten, and coffeehouse. Martha’s was also open, judging from the lacy scent of brewing coffee, maple syrup, and pancakes. Men in camo gear hunched over tables ranged along a steamy front window. Spying Alex, their dogs scrambled to their feet.

Definitely getting worse. She saw more dogs butting their noses against the diner’s plate glass, and she smelled how much rounder and more fecund their scents grew when they spotted her. Mina wasn’t nearly this bad, and it’s only been, what, a week? Ten days?

She felt eyes on her and turned to see Kincaid studying her. She didn’t know him, but she didn’t sense anything bad rolling off him either. He smelled like a comfortable leather coat, something her dad might have worn, edged with a hint of something lightly floral. Powder? She said, “Do you know why they’re doing that? I’ve heard that the dogs don’t like people who are going to … you know. But me …”

“But you, they love.” Kincaid’s shoulders moved in a small shrug. “Dunno yet. Let me think on it.”

The church’s front door opened, and a gaggle of children spilled out. They were all young—none were older than ten or eleven—and they tumbled over one another, racing for a playground just off the rectory. Seeing the children, listening to their shrieks and laughter, hearing the joyous barking of the dogs—all this brought an unexpected crush of grief to her chest, and she had to look away.

Belatedly, she realized that she’d pulled back on the reins and now Honey stood, her breath smoking, patiently waiting for Alex to make up her mind. Kincaid had also pulled up and was watching her. When their eyes met, Kincaid said, “Still gets to me.”

“It seems so normal,” she said.

“That’s because it is. We try to make things as normal as we can.”

Yeah, right, normal little things like gunfire and guards. She’d heard no other shots since awakening, but she wondered who they were shooting—and where. And why.

“We don’t want them to grow up dumb either,” Kincaid said. “School’s one thing they all have in common. Gives them a routine. We got a guy used to be principal over at Merton Elementary. You’ll meet him when you start class tomorrow.”

“I’m going to school?”

“Oh yeah. Just because it’s the end of the world doesn’t mean you get to cut.”

“That is so not fair.”

“Cheer up. We got some good teachers that have come out of retirement. Kind of ironic, you think about it. We do our time and get put out to pasture and now we’re the ones left picking up the pieces.”

Put out to pasture? She opened her mouth, but then turned at the rapid clop of horse hooves. A hay wagon bounced down a snaky cut that jagged through the woods. This time, Peter was driving; Jet was perched on the driver’s seat alongside Peter, and Chris trotted behind on a muscular blood bay. Instead of hay, the wagon was crammed with people—all blindfolded. More refugees who might be just valuable enough to keep, she figured. When Jet caught her scent, the black shepherd barked a greeting, and Chris turned, spied them, and lifted a hand before continuing on. She watched as the wagon rolled to a halt in front of the village hall.

“What goes on in there?” she asked.

“That, young lady,” said Kincaid, “is what you are about to find out.”

47

The village hall’s main corridor was lined with offices, some open, others shut tight. Fear curdled the air. A clog of guards and more dogs kept watch over a long line of bedraggled, elderly refugees. Alex fixed her eyes on Kincaid’s back, but she heard the resentful whispers as they passed. Then one man said, quite distinctly, “Leave me alone with her, I’ll show you how it’s done.”

A burst of mean, raucous laughter. The dogs whined anxiously. Alex half-expected Kincaid to say something, but he kept walking.