One morning on the way to the railroad track, David pulled his board up alongside Tally’s. He rode silently for a while, taking the familiar turns with his usual grace. Over the last two weeks, she’d learned that his jacket was actually made of leather, real dead animals, but she’d gradually gotten used to the idea. The Smokies hunted, but they were like the rangers, killing only species that didn’t belong in this part of the world or that had gotten out of control thanks to the Rusties’ meddling. With its random patches, the jacket would probably look silly on anyone else. But it suited David, somehow, as if growing up here in the wild allowed him to fuse with the animals that had donated their skins to his clothes. And it probably didn’t hurt that he had actually made the jacket himself.
He spoke up suddenly. “I’ve got a present for you.”
“A present? Really?”
By now, Tally understood that nothing in the Smoke ever lost its value. Nothing was discarded or given away just because it was old or broken. Everything was repaired, refitted, and recycled, and if one Smokey couldn’t put it to use, it was traded to another. Few things were given away lightly.
“Yeah, really.” David angled closer and handed her a small bundle.
She unwrapped it, following the familiar route down the stream almost without looking. It was a pair of gloves, handmade in light brown leather.
She shoved the bright, city-made wrapping paper into her pocket, then pulled the gloves onto her blistered hands. “Thanks! They fit perfectly.”
He nodded. “I made them when I was about your age. They’re a little small for me these days.”
Tally smiled, wishing she could hug him. When they spread their arms to take a hard turn, she held his hand for a second.
Flexing her fingers, Tally found that the gloves were soft and pliant, the palms worn pale from years of use. White lines across the finger joints revealed how they had fitted David’s hands. “They’re wonderful.”
“Come on,” David said. “It’s not like they’re magic or anything.”
“No, but they’ve got…something.” History, Tally realized. In the city, she’d owned lots of things—practically anything she wanted came out of the wall. But city things were disposable and replaceable, as interchangeable as the T-shirt, jacket, and skirt combinations of dorm uniforms. Here, in the Smoke, objects grew old, carrying their histories with them in dings and scratches and tatters.
David chuckled at her and sped up, joining Shay at the front of the pack.
When they got to the railroad site, David announced that they had to clear more track, using vibrasaws to cut through the vegetation that had grown up around the metal rails.
“What about the trees?” Croy asked.
“What about them?”
“Do we have to chop them down?” Tally asked.
David shrugged. “Scrub trees like this aren’t good for much. But we won’t waste them. We’ll take them back to the Smoke for burning.”
“Burning?” Tally said. The Smokies usually only cut down trees from the valley, not the rest of the mountain. These trees had been growing there for decades, and David wanted to use them just to cook a meal? She looked at Shay for support, but her friend’s expression was carefully neutral. She probably agreed, but didn’t want to argue with David in front of everyone about how to run his project.
“Yes, burning,” he said. “And after we’ve salvaged the track, we’ll replant. Put a row of useful trees where the railroad used to be.”
The five others looked at him silently. He spun a saw in his hand, anxious to get started, but aware he didn’t have their full support yet.
“You know, David,” Croy said. “These trees aren’t useless. They protect the underbrush from sunlight, which keeps the soil from eroding.”
“Okay, you win. Instead of planting some other kind of tree, we’ll let the forest take back the land. All the crappy scrub and underbrush you want.”
“But do we have to clear-cut them?” Astrix asked.
David took a slow breath. “Clear-cutting” was the word for what the Rusties had done to the old forests: felling every tree, killing every living thing, turning entire countries into grazing land. Whole rain forests had been consumed, reduced from millions of interlocking species to a bunch of cows eating grass, a vast web of life traded for cheap hamburgers.
“Look, we’re not clear-cutting. All we’re doing is pulling out the garbage that the Rusties left behind,” David said. “It just takes a little surgery to do it.”
“We could chop around the trees,” Tally said. “Only cut into them where we need to. Like you said: surgery.”
“Okay, fine.” He chuckled. “Let’s see what you think of these trees after you’ve had to hack a few out of the ground.”
He was right.
The vibrasaw purred through heavy vines, parted tangled underbrush like a comb through wet hair, and sliced cleanly through metal when the odd misstroke brought the cutting edge down onto the track. But when its teeth met the gnarled roots and twisted branches of the scrub trees, it was a different story.
Tally grimaced as her saw bounced across the hard wood again, spitting bits of bark at her face, its low hum transformed into a protesting howl. She struggled to force the edge down into the tough old branch. One more cut and this section of track would be clear.
“Going good. You almost got it, Tally.”
She noticed that Croy stood well back, poised to jump if the saw somehow slipped from her hands. She could see now why David had wanted to chop the scrub trees into pieces. It would have been a lot easier than reaching through the tangle of roots and branches, trying to bring the vibrasaw to bear against a precise spot.
“Stupid trees,” Tally muttered, gritting her teeth as she plunged the blade down again.
Finally, the saw found purchase in the wood, letting out a high-pitched scream as it bit into the branch. Then it slipped through, free for a second before it thrust, spitting and screeching, into the dirt below.
“Yeah!” Tally stepped back, lifting her goggles, the saw powering down in her hands.
Croy stepped forward and kicked the section of branch away from the track. “Perfect surgical slice, Doctor,” he said.
“I think I’m getting the hang of this,” Tally said, wiping her brow.