I let out the breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “He wasn’t even punished,” I whisper, more to myself than to Mistress Coyle.
“Later,” she whispers back.
I hear Wilf snap the reins and we rock as the cart plods slowly forward.
So the Mayor was a liar. All along.
Of course he was, you idiot.
And Maddy’s killer walks free to kill again, his cure still in place.
And I’m bumping and juddering against the woman who destroyed the only hope of contacting the ships that might save us.
And Todd is out there. Somewhere. Being left behind.
I’ve never felt so lonely in my life.
The compartment is hellishly small. We share too much of each other’s air, elbows and shoulders bruising away as we ride along, the heat soaking our clothes.
We don’t speak.
Time passes. And then more. And more after that. I fall into a kind of doze, the close warmth sucking the life right out of me. The rocking of the cart eventually flattens all my worries and I close my eyes against it.
I’m awakened by the older soldier knocking on the wood and I think we’re going to finally get out, but he just says, “We’re at the rough bit. Hold on.”
“To what?” I say, but I don’t say any more as the cart feels like it drops off a cliff.
Mistress Coyle’s forehead smacks into my nose and I smell blood almost at once. I hear her gasp and choke as my stray hand is shoved into her neck and still the cart tumbles and bumps and I wait for the moment where we topple end over end.
And then Mistress Coyle is working both arms around me, pulling me close to her and bracing us in the compartment with one hand and one foot pressed against the opposite side. I resist her, resist the implied comfort, but there’s wisdom in it as almost immediately we stop knocking each other about, even though the cart lurches and stutters.
And so it’s in Mistress Coyle’s arms that the last bit of my journey is taken. And it’s in Mistress Coyle’s arms that I enter the camp of the Answer.
Finally the cart stops and the panel is removed almost immediately.
“We’re here,” says the younger soldier, the blond one. “Everyone okay?”
“Why wouldn’t we be?” Mistress Coyle says sourly. She lets go of me and scoots her way out of the compartment, extending a hand to help me out, too. I ignore it, getting myself out and looking at my surroundings.
We’ve come down a steep rocky path that’s barely fit for a cart and into what looks like a gash of rocks in the middle of a forest. Trees press in on every side, a row of them on the level ground in front of us.
The ocean must be beyond them. Either I dozed off for longer than I thought or she lied and it’s closer than she said.
Which wouldn’t surprise me.
The blond soldier whistles when he sees our faces, and I can feel caked blood under my nose. “I can get you something for that,” he says.
“She’s a healer,” Mistress Coyle says. “She can do it herself.”
“I’m Lee,” he says to me, a grin on his face.
For a brief second, I’m completely aware of how terrible I must look with my bloody nose and this ridiculous outfit.
“I’m Viola,” I say to the ground.
“’Ere’s yer bag,” Wilf says, suddenly next to me, holding out the canvas sack of medicines and bandages. I look at him for a second and then I pretty much throw myself at him in a hug, pulling him tight to me, feeling the big, safe bulk of him. “Ah’m glad to see yoo, Hildy,” he says.
“You, too, Wilf,” I say, my voice thick. I let him go and take the bag.
“Corinne pack that?” Mistress Coyle asks.
I fish out a bandage and start cleaning the blood from my nose. “What do you care?”
“You can accuse me of many things,” she says, “but not caring isn’t one of them, my girl.”
“I told you,” I say, catching her eye, “never call me that again.”
Mistress Coyle licks her teeth. She makes a quick glance to Lee and to the other soldier, Magnus, and they leave, quickly, disappearing into the trees ahead of us. “You, too, Wilf.”
Wilf looks at me. “Yoo gone be all right?”
“I think so, Wilf,” I say, swallowing, “but don’t you go far.”
He nods, touching the brim of his hat again and walking after the soldiers. We watch him go.
“All right.” Mistress Coyle turns to me, crossing her arms. “Let’s hear it.”
I look at her, at her face full of defiance, and I feel my breath quicken, the anger rising up again so fast, so easily, it feels like I might crack in two. “How dare you–”
But she’s interrupting, already. “Whoever contacts your ships first has the advantage. If he’s first, he tells them all about the nasty little terrorist organization he’s got on his hands and can they please use their guidance equipment to track us down and blow us off the face of New World.”
“Yes but if we–”
“If we got to them first, yes, of course, we could have told them all about our local tyrant, but that was never going to happen.”
“We could have tried–”
“Did you know what you were doing when you ran towards that tower?”
I clench my fists. “No, but at least I could have–”
“Could have what?” Her eyes challenge me. “Sent out a message to the very coordinates the President’s been searching for? Don’t you think he was counting on you trying? Just why exactly do you think you haven’t been arrested yet?”
I dig my nails into my palms, forcing myself not to hear what she’s saying.
“We were running out of time,” she says. “And if we can’t use it to contact help, then at the very least we prevent him from doing the same.”
“And when they land? What’s your brilliant plan then?”
“Well,” she says, uncrossing her arms and taking a step towards me, “if we haven’t overthrown him, then there’s a race to get to them first, isn’t there? At least this way, it’s a fair fight.”
I shake my head. “You had no right.”
“It’s a war.”
“That you started.”
“He started it, my girl.”
“And you escalated it.”