Before anything else, I put away the leather folio that contained Longshot’s legacy. Then I changed clothes and searched for my rifle. Someone had stored it beneath my bed and unloaded it as well. I found the rounds in my dresser and loaded my weapon. Feeling better than I had since Longshot’s death—as if I might prove useful—I scrambled into my soldier gear, plain brown pants and matching tunic. When I added Edmund’s boots, I remembered how proud he’d been, how carefully he measured my feet and tailored them just for me. The leather was soft and worn from a summer of wear, and they fit perfectly. I took the ribbon from my hair and exchanged it for a simple tie.
Today, I felt like a Huntress.
Momma Oaks kissed my cheek as I went out to fight, and I was careful to avoid the main avenue, circling the perimeter instead. Nobody gave me a second look. They might’ve even thought I was a boy, recruited young. That suited me fine.
Harry Carter was still on duty when I climbed up, this time without waiting for permission. He didn’t ask what I thought I was doing; I guessed he could tell by the rifle in my hand. And he looked so very tired. There weren’t enough guards to man the wall all the way around, and those who did worked incredibly long shifts.
He spoke as I checked my gun. “They’ve dropped back for now, but they’ll make another run. You’ll get your shooting in.”
As he’d predicted we didn’t wait long. I raised my rifle and aimed for the torso as Longshot had taught me. One jerked and fell. Mine. Another kill. Nobody was ringing the bell anymore; there were just too many, and it would create an unbelievable racket. The guns and Freaks were bad enough. In quick succession, I shot five more, and then had to reload from Harry’s ammo bucket. Miles’s rifle was nice enough with a smooth, black barrel and a walnut stock, but I wished I had Longshot’s—for sentimental reasons.
I had been fighting for a while when calamity struck. As disasters went, it was a small one, but tiny troubles had a way of swelling, like ticks grown fat with blood. At first I paid no attention to the voices behind me, focused on preventing the Freaks from completing their charge. Harry was a quiet companion, capable and composed.
But they just kept talking louder. I blocked them, shooting on, until the charge dropped. Freak bodies lay strewn all over the grass outside the walls, and the stink grew in proportion to each death. In the distance, I heard them growling and wailing, screeching of grief in their terrible, inhuman tongue.
Finally, I wheeled to inflict some verbal hurt on whoever was yelling at the base of the wall. I froze. Caroline Bigwater stood with a group of citizens, some women, some men, all bearing the same look—judgment. She had a book in her hands, the age of which I would compare with The Day Boy and the Night Girl; it looked about that old.
“You see.” Her voice rang in a shrill mix of fear, anger, and loathing. “Just look at her, arrayed as a man. This is what comes of breaking covenant with heaven. In all our years, Salvation hasn’t seen such misfortune since the pride plagues. Something has to be done, or we’ll all pay the price.”
A rumble rose up in agreement. I slid a sidelong look at Harry, wondering if he agreed. He put a gentle hand on my arm and whispered, “Stay here. I won’t let them take you.”
Take me? Where?
Caroline Bigwater opened her ancient book and read from it. “‘Women must adorn themselves in modest apparel with shamefacedness and sobriety. Let the woman labor in silence and with all subjection. At all times must the females be wise in mind, clean in heart, kind; working in their houses, living under the authority of their husbands; so that no evil may befall us.’”
The woman glanced up, gauging their reaction to her words. More angry cries erupted, and their eyes gleamed as they stared up at me. I recognized that look from down below; it meant I dreaded the outcome of this confrontation. For me, it could not end well.
“Caroline’s right,” a woman shouted. “The troubles started right after she came!”
Mrs. Bigwater agreed, “So they did. And this is why: ‘Woman shall not don the weapons and armor of a warrior, neither shall a warrior put on a woman’s raiment: for all that do so are abomination unto heaven. Plague shall descend upon your houses, so long as you suffer this atrocity to live.’”
They stared up at me in my man’s clothing, a rifle in one hand, and the mood turned darker still. Suggestions spilled from one to the other as to how to atone and make Salvation clean again. I was afraid to move; I didn’t recognize these people. Fear and loss had twisted and broken them.
“How can we make it right?” a man asked.
Caroline Bigwater smiled up at me, all saintly sweetness. “You don’t want us all to die, do you, dear? You know what you must do.”
Inevitable
“What on earth is going on here?” Elder Bigwater boomed. He didn’t always employ his big voice but today he did to good effect.
The crowd started, guilty looks on most of their faces, but they didn’t disperse. The woman faced her husband, serene in the backing of her fellow believers. They needed somebody to blame; I understood that. It didn’t change how scared I was.
Mrs. Bigwater tried to explain, but he silenced her with a single sentence. “Your husband wants you to go home. Are you being womanly by disobeying?”
I didn’t agree with the notion that women should follow orders given by men, but it showcased the discrepancy between her attack on me, and her own behavior. With an angry grumble, she took the core of her coterie when she stormed off. I didn’t fool myself that this was over; only the immediate danger had passed.
“Come here, Deuce.” The elder wore a kind expression, one I’d learned often masked bad intentions. But I couldn’t stay on the wall forever, so I scrambled down the ladder with a nod at Harry.
Bigwater set a hand on my shoulder, guiding me away. I didn’t like it, but I thought he meant to show support, making anyone think twice about messing with me. So I let the familiarity stand without elbowing him in the gut.
“I think I can solve this problem in a way that would satisfy both of us.”
“How’s that?” I asked, wary.
Like the guards, he looked weary in the waning afternoon light. His thin face had new lines, and his eyes sank even deeper in his head. “You already know how dire things are. We can’t last.”
He’d already made that clear enough, earlier in the day. “I’m aware.”