Longshot summarized the situation much as I would have, sticking to the facts without judgment or embellishment. And when he finished, Elder Bigwater wore a darker look than sat comfortably on his hawkish features. He put me in mind of birds we’d encountered in the wilderness, black ones that hovered over fallen creatures in hopes of picking the flesh from their bones.
“It is, indeed, a dire dilemma,” he said at last. “However, I am not interested in hearing you bewail our changed circumstances. If you have a workable solution, raise your citizen’s token, and I will grant you the floor.”
Citizen’s token? I didn’t have one. I exchanged a glance with Fade, who shook his head. Maybe it was age related, and we needed more birthdays before we’d be granted the right to speak in a public assembly. That didn’t seem right. Age had nothing to do with how well my brain worked. At first, it was dead quiet, and then growers proposed some of the same ideas they’d offered on the way back to town.
The elder rejected the idea of enclosing the fields in another wall. “Unguarded walls are useless … and worse, it would grant them the opportunity to study close up and figure out how to climb over or destroy them. You.” He nodded next at a planter who had his token in the air.
“We can’t leave the fields unattended, it’s clear,” he said. “Guards need to be posted at all times.”
“And who would be so … fearless?” By his hesitation, Elder Bigwater made it clear he meant foolish—that he thought this notion was no good, either.
But I didn’t notice him solving the problem himself. He struck me as the sort of man who preferred to “lead” while everyone around him did the actual work and he reaped the benefits. The silence built. It seemed nobody would volunteer to risk himself like that.
In that moment, I felt vaguely ashamed of every guard present. What was the good of having such a fine home if you weren’t willing to fight for it? Though still damp from the well and disheveled from the fight, I let go of Fade’s hand and pushed through the crowd. There was no way I’d make a good impression on Elder Bigwater, but I didn’t care, either. This town didn’t need another normal girl in a fancy dress with pretty curls. Whether they knew it or not, they needed me.
“I will,” I said, once I felt sure I had his attention.
To his credit, the elder made a thorough visual inspection, taking in the knives on my thighs and the way I stood. “You’re one of the new young people,” he said thoughtfully. I could see him calculating the odds of making use of me against the possibility of garnering disapproval by going against the old ways.
Yet something had to change. For the Freaks, it already had.
“Me too.” I hadn’t been sure if Fade would follow, but there he was at my side, braver than guards twice his age.
I stood a little taller. And then Stalker came up on my left. I knew a moment of pride to surpass anything that had come before, even on my naming day. We were teaching these people what it meant to be steadfast—to do one’s duty even in the face of possible extinction. Maybe a few of them would choose not to cower behind their walls after this; and if the growing season came to fruition, it would be because of us.
“I reckon these younguns need somebody who knows the lay of the land,” Longshot said, as he stepped up beside us.
There weren’t enough of us. For a permanent outpost, we needed at least twenty men, so that some of us could sleep while others patrolled. We’d had more volunteers for the summer patrol, but that was before, when they knew they got to come home at the end of the day and leave the wilderness for the town walls. Though the fields weren’t far in distance, it was a world of difference in terms of safety.
“You men should be ashamed,” Elder Bigwater snapped. “Since none of you are brave enough to step forward, we’ll draw for it.” He turned to his daughter, who stood close by, offering a pretty picture in a dark time. “Fetch pencil and paper, Justine, and then write down all the names.”
Her bright smile said she enjoyed the hint of power. A restless dread pervaded the crowds, women clutching their men’s arms for fear they would be chosen. I didn’t know how they could wait, myself. Justine returned, cheeks glowing from her run, and then she circulated through the crowd, taking down the identities of all town guards. They received special considerations and did no other work apart from their stints on the wall, but I didn’t think much of their Hunter spirits. I suspected most just didn’t want to turn their hands to real labor.
Once she finished, Justine placed the slips in a fine polished bowl. It was handmade, I could tell, and nicer than anything I’d seen down below. Guards glared at the four of us, as if we’d volunteered just to make them look bad. I didn’t care about their bruised feelings.
Elder Bigwater beckoned to Longshot and then whispered with him for a few moments. When Bigwater addressed the crowd again, it seemed that Longshot agreed with my silent assessment of how many men we needed out on permanent assignment, for the elder said, “We’ll pull sixteen names now, and if any should fall this summer, we’ll draw to replace him.” A low murmur of protest ran through the crowd, but not enough to drown Bigwater’s booming voice, more impressive a sound than a narrow chest like his should make. He went on, “Momma Oaks, will you do the honors?”
Since she did the sewing in town, she had no hope of receiving special treatment from the elder for her cooperation. People needed what they needed. At his choice, some citizens relaxed a bit, seeming to trust she would be impartial. Others whispered among themselves, and one woman glared at me pointedly.
“It’s her. All our troubles started when she came to town with her unwomanly ways. She’ll bring the pride plagues back, just you watch. We’d be better off staking her outside the walls for the Muties. See if their attacks don’t abate once we appease heaven with proof of our piety.”
“Caroline,” her companion gasped, sounding honestly shocked.
I pretended I hadn’t heard the hateful comment, but it kindled a hint of fear. All too well, I knew how fast the tide could turn. They needed to finish this awful lottery, and disperse these folks before things got ugly. Salvation needed internal strife like it needed a hole in the outer wall.
With half an ear, I listened to the names being read off: Frank Wilson, Nick Gantry, Ephraim Holder, Odell Ellis, Will Sweeney, Ty Frampton, Earl Wallace, Desmond Woods, Sonny Benton, Elroy Smith, Darrell Tilman, Gary Miles, Harry Carter, Ross Massey, Matt Weber, and Jeremiah Hobbs. Only one was familiar to me—Frank Wilson—the brother of a girl I’d spoken to at Justine’s party, whose name I couldn’t remember. The rest belonged to guards who never left the walls.