Outpost (Razorland 2)

By this time, the sky was lightening along the edges, showing glimmers of copper and rose. The colors burst in layers, a skyward delicacy that never failed to steal my breath. Soon, the sun would sting my eyes, but this quiet prelude to day’s full onslaught offered the most perfect beauty I had found Topside.

“Nervous?” Fade walked beside me, matching his strides to mine.

“A little,” I admitted. “This will be worse than anything we’ve faced in Salvation … and we’ve been living soft for a while.”

I hadn’t forgotten the hardship of the tunnels or scavenging in the ruins while hiding from the gangs. Nor had the privation of the long journey dimmed in my mind. But, perversely, I took pride in what we’d suffered because we’d come through with only our weapons and our teamwork.

He nodded. “No shelter, but the weather will be good. It’s warmer each day.”

“I’m more concerned about establishing the outpost on a defensible site.”

Fade thought about that and then said, “Longshot seems like he knows what he’s doing.”

“That’s the only bright spot.” If they’d put someone else in charge of this project, I doubted it had any chance of success.

The town was quiet at this hour; we saw only guards stirring, some on the walls, and others on the way to the barracks. I nodded in greeting to a few. When we arrived, half of the team had already assembled, but they were still waiting on the rest. Relief flowed smooth and sweet as honey. At least we wouldn’t start off the assignment on Longshot’s bad side. Not that I thought he was as touchy as Silk. He didn’t seem to possess much sense of his own importance.

Stalker strode up a few minutes later, and to my surprise, Fade waved in greeting. The blond boy paused, brows drawn in obvious puzzlement. And then he maneuvered around a cluster of men to join us. If Stalker thought I was better than our fellows, then they didn’t rate with him at all. I shouldn’t have smiled at the implicit insult, but in truth, I didn’t think highly of our comrades, either. If they’d been Hunters at heart, they would’ve stepped forward of their own free will. Yet they didn’t deserve to die for their timidity.

Fade shook his head at the both of us, though I doubted the guards had noticed the silent interplay. “We have to work with them.”

“There might be hope for some,” I said softly. “Brats can be trained.”

Both boys took a second look and Stalker laughed. “Old brats.”

A few minutes later, the rest of the men turned up, sullen and unhappy. Longshot spoke for a few minutes about his expectations, outlining his plans, which were logical and well conceived. There would occasionally be town furloughs, after the first week, where two guards rotated in and out. That, he said, should cut down on soldiers deserting their posts.

“It’s gonna be tough,” he went on, “but we stick it out or the town starves. That’s a fact. Them Muties have figured out how to hurt us, and we can’t let that stand. It’s been a long while since we had a proper war, but I’m afraid it may come to that.”

The guards murmured, some worried, others speculative. We fell into formation, two by two, and marched through the dawn, our advance blessed by the rising sun. Maybe it was just the normal progression of the day, but as it grew brighter, I could almost believe that luster meant something special—that we would succeed—and the damage wouldn’t be catastrophic.

Seventeen growers met us at the town entrance with wagons full of seeds. This time, they appeared cowed, none too eager to return to the fields. If anything went wrong, Salvation wouldn’t have the supplies to plant a third time. And I tried not to contemplate that outcome. One of the planters distracted me by lifting a hand—and when I stepped closer—I recognized Tegan with her hair bound in tidy braids and wearing a length of cloth around her head to protect her from the sun.

I hurried over to her. “How does Doc feel about you volunteering to help with the harvest?”

“He required some persuasion with all the problems we’ve had this season, but they were short on willing hands, and I know what I’m doing.”

“I’ll watch your back,” I promised.

Tegan nodded. “I know … or I wouldn’t be here.”

Longshot hollered for the guards to fall in so I waved as I went back to formation. There was no fanfare as the gates opened. None of the townsfolk came to wish us well as we went out to protect the fields. It was just as well; it would have made leaving harder for those who were, at best, reluctant.

“Stick close to the wagons,” Longshot ordered. “I want guards posted on either side, and keep a sharp eye on the tree line.”

“Yes, sir,” I murmured, along with nineteen others.

I sniffed the morning air, seeking any sign that all wasn’t as it should be. Only the scent of green grass broken underfoot reached me, chased with faint animal musk, and the sweetness of white flowers, unfurling in the distance. I found constant beauty in this new world; it had not yet become familiar to me, and I marveled that natives could find so little to enchant the eye.

Likewise, the birds assured me things were safe for now. Flashes of color fluttered in the green, aerial maze. This morning they chirped and whirred and churred their morning songs, undisturbed in distant boughs. Yet the peace was unnerving, for we had trod this path before, and we knew that danger lurked within the twisted tangle of branches. For a Huntress, waiting could be infinitely worse than fighting. I fingered my knives as we grew closer to the first field, ruined with runnels of Freak claws. Only dead plants remained, so dry and brown that it hurt to look at them. They’d represented the hope for the town’s survival.

We’ll do better this time. Longshot has a plan.

Shortly, he proved me correct in my assessment. He barked instructions to the growers riding in the wagons, telling them to get down and get to work. Tegan shouldered a bucket, which had a long strap attached, and her partner—an older man who seemed protective—carried jugs of water. She would put the seeds in the ground while the man covered and watered them.

I paid close attention to them as they worked the fields, but I had to watch all the growers. The rest of our cohort stood guard with me, watching in all directions. I could tell many of them were frightened by the way they clutched their weapons.

Frank Wilson, the guard I’d fought to earn my place, came over to stand with us. He looked about twenty, though he might be older, based on how people aged Topside. His brown hair needed cutting, and a beakish nose dominated his narrow face. To his credit, Frank wasn’t rigid with dread like the rest. I didn’t know if that meant he was brave or foolish. Some Hunters were both in equal measure, but Silk once told me that only an idiot feared nothing. Smart Hunters knew when situations were dangerous, and made the choice to risk their lives for the good of the enclave.

“Can’t believe we’ll be outside all summer,” Frank said, shaking his head.

Stalker eyed him with dislike. “We spent the whole winter outside.”

Technically, we spent it in a little house, but Frank seemed so impressed with our survival skills that I lacked the heart to disillusion him. Fade was watching the tree line, as Longshot had said, seeming to pay the exchange little mind. Just looking at him filled me with warmth, but I didn’t let the feeling distract me.

“I heard about that,” Frank said. “Did you really come from Gotham?”

If I had a new knife for every time we’d been asked that, I wouldn’t be able to carry them all. I let Stalker field the question.

“It’s true,” he answered.

“What was it like? Were there horseless wagons and flying carriages?” Right then, Frank seemed younger than I’d initially thought.

“Of course,” Stalker said, playing with him. “There were also fountains with all the cider you could drink and shining towers of pure silver.”

Frank colored. “Sorry.”

I took pity on him. “It’s all in ruins.”

Still, he wasn’t discouraged, and I guessed he hoped to bond with us because everyone else on the squad was at least ten years older. Most of them had families of their own and stood in knots with their weapons loosely held while complaining bitterly about drawing this duty. Since Frank wasn’t like that, maybe he did belong with us, more than with the others, anyway. I’d promised to show him some moves; maybe there would be time for that later.

Trying again to make conversation, Frank said, “Who could’ve imagine the Muties being smart enough to hit our food supply?”

He reminded me of Twist, who nobody had liked down below. Twist had been a small, weak male in the enclave, who served as the headman’s second in command. Though he’d lacked a certain charisma, he’d also turned out to be our greatest ally, so I didn’t think it wise to alienate Frank. We might need him.

“They’re different,” I said thoughtfully. “There might be two types, the mindless kind, and these new ones, who seem to think and plan.”

That was only speculation, of course. I remembered how Fade had said we needed to study them to figure out why they were changing. That didn’t seem a likely avenue for answers, however. I imagined what Elder Bigwater would say, confronted with such a crazy, dangerous scheme.

Stalker shaded his eyes, gazing with silent frustration out toward the trees. “If that’s true, then we’re doomed.”

That dried up the talk until we moved. The day went slowly, mostly standing at attention, surveying the landscape for danger signs. At noon, we ate a cold lunch of bread and dry meat. Hopefully meals would improve once we finished the initial planting and decided where to set the outpost. Tegan ate with us, her bad leg stretched out before her.

“Are you hurting?” I regarded her with a half-frown.

Her brown eyes darkened with outrage. “Did you ask anyone else that?”

“No, but—”

“Leave her alone,” Stalker said, surprising me. “She’s tough. She’ll be fine.”

I eyed him in astonishment, but he’d already turned away to tell Frank about how we’d gone a whole week without eating anything but fish. Sadly, the story was true; if I never saw a fish again, that would be just fine. Tegan watched him, her expression perplexed but grateful. I could tell she didn’t understand Stalker at all.

“I know you mean well,” she whispered as she rose, “but I don’t need to be coddled. I know exactly what I can handle.”

“Sorry. I won’t do it again.”

She nodded to show we were fine, and then she rejoined her partner to continue planting. By late afternoon, the growers finished. The seeds didn’t need special care this early, but they did require someone to watch them and be sure Freaks didn’t come in the night to rip them out of the ground. We returned to Salvation in near-silence, but as we approached the gates, a guard muttered:

“This is ridiculous. We haven’t seen or heard a peep from the Muties today. We ought to be sleeping warm in our beds tonight.”