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.”