That was news to me. Maybe it was an impossible task, but I’d set out intending to achieve it. This lesser version of success hurt. Still, I’d take fifty-odd lives over none. I hugged my parents in turn.
“What happened inside?” I asked.
Edmund sighed. “Like she said, we didn’t have the ammo to hold the walls. Smith fell behind on production, and once we started running out, the Muties got bolder. Then one of the monsters threw a brand. It got lucky and the wall caught.”
“That gave others the idea,” I guessed.
“Once a fire takes hold,” Momma Oaks said tiredly, “there’s not a whole lot you can do.”
“Why didn’t Elder Bigwater oversee the evacuation sooner?”
Rex’s expression hardened. “Because he was too busy dealing with his mad wife.”
“Oh, no. What did she do?”
Momma Oaks bent her head. “She kept ranting about how violating the covenant with heaven led to our downfall—that if we got right with our faith—the Muties would go away. Her supporters got in the way of defense and the water brigade, as if prayers ever put out a fire.”
“I’m as devout as the next man,” Edmund said, “but I don’t believe the Lord works that way, and I don’t think these monsters are part of a divine plan.”
Rex nodded. “Me either. I refute a god who would do such a thing to test people who have done their best to live according to his laws.”
I had an opinion on that. “The Muties are like wild animals … or they were. Now, they seem more like us. I’d love to know where they came from … and why they’re changing.”
“Maybe someone out there has answers for you,” Edmund said.
“Something you credit more than our stories,” Momma Oaks added.
“I hope so.” Changing the subject, I quickly explained the plan, then finished, “It’s important that you follow instructions and stay close to Morgan. I’ll meet up with you again in Soldier’s Pond.”
I glimpsed a thousand protests in my mother’s eyes, but she voiced none of them. That made her brave in a way I couldn’t match. Whenever Fade was in danger, I wanted to be right there beside him, fighting. It would be beyond me to watch someone I loved stride into jeopardy without me, even if it was best. Her strength surpassed mine by far.
Tears in his eyes, Edmund nodded. “We’ll be safe, don’t worry about us.”
There was no way I could help it, but I took the reassurance as he meant it. He wanted me to go forth and fight without their safety preying on my mind. I appreciated the gesture. I repaid Edmund with an extra tight hug, then I went into Momma Oaks’s arms. She wrapped them around me tight and I breathed her in, more smoke and blood, underlaid with the faintest scent of bread. It had been days since she’d baked, but the smell lingered to remind me of home.
When I came to Rex, I hesitated as I didn’t know him well and most of my interactions with him had come in the form of goading. He addressed my hesitation by hugging me gently. Close up, I could feel that he was shaking, barely putting a brave face on his wife’s loss.
So I gave him a job to distract him. “Watch over them for me. I’m holding you personally responsible for their welfare.”
“Noted,” Rex said sharply.
But his shoulders straightened when we parted. I could see he was thinking about his parents now and not Ruth. There would be time enough to mourn her in whatever way he saw fit. Not now. Not with fires blazing in the distance and the muted snarls of Freaks prowling the woods in search of survivors. I couldn’t remember when the stakes had been so high.
Soon enough, we split into three: scouting party, main group, and the rear guard. Fade, me, and five of Morgan’s best men, who ranged wildly in age, composed the rear. Dennis wasn’t much older than Fade or me, lean and nondescript, yet by the way he handled his rifle and knives, I could tell he was among the best. In contrast, all of Thornton’s hair had silvered, though his beard still bore traces of black. His dark eyes revealed a canny knowledge; strong shoulders and a broad back made him a greater threat. To me he looked like a grappler, a man who preferred brute force to finesse. I also recognized him as the man who had been assisting Morgan in Soldier’s Pond.
I guessed the third one, Spence, was five years or so older than me, short and wiry with shorn red hair. The first time I saw that shade, I was fascinated, as nobody down below had it. Now, I was only interested in how well Spence could fight, and his demeanor gave me no clue. He had a freckled, open-looking face, devoid of violence, yet Morgan had promised us the best. So I’d withhold judgment until I saw him in combat.
Morrow was the fourth. Thin and dark haired, he had a ready smile and a set of pipes slung across his back; you’d mistake him for a fool until you caught the glint in his eyes. Underestimating this man would be the last mistake you ever made, and I figured he couldn’t be more than two years older than Fade. Yet he gave the impression of experience.
The last member was named Tulliver, Tully for short. Her green eyes were keen, set deep in a strong face. She was almost as tall as Fade and older than anyone but Thornton, but her hair was still fair. Most intriguing, she wore an interesting weapon strapped to her back. I’d never seen anything like it. I glanced at Fade to see what he made of it, but he wasn’t paying attention to our recruits. Instead, he was staring at me like I was the last slice of cake on a plate, and somebody had told him he couldn’t have it.
After a flurry of farewells, Stalker headed out with the scouting party. Tegan set out with the Salvation survivors, Morgan leading the way. My family cast a final look in my direction, then they followed as well. This was a terrifying gambit, and we wouldn’t find out if it had succeeded until we reached Soldier’s Pond.
Carnage
“Morgan put me in charge,” Thornton said. “If anyone has a problem with that, you’d better speak up now so I can knock it out of you.”
Nobody made a sound.
“Good. Let’s move. Remember, we’re not trying to practice good woodcraft. We’re leaving a trail for them to follow. More than likely, we’ll see some combat before we get home.”
The word sent a pang through me. I’d just started feeling like I might belong in Salvation when Caroline Bigwater decided I was a plague sent from heaven, whatever that meant, and that the only way the town could be saved was by sacrificing me. For obvious reasons, I wasn’t on board with that plan, so I’d gone for help in accordance with her husband’s wishes. Now Salvation smoldered behind me, nothing but charred wood and piles of ash. I could trace this moment all the way back to the night the Freaks stole fire from the outpost; I’d known even then that the theft meant nothing good.