Gray (Book 2) (11 page)

“No,” he agreed. “You don’t.”

Silence drifted over them once again, until Coral’s curiosity made her speak. “Did you go to AA?”

“First time, I was sent by a judge after I totalled my bike. It didn’t take that time.”

“Did it take? Ever?”

“Later. That was my third life. Religious childhood, hellion in my 20’s, totally into recovery soon after age 30.” He shrugged. “Except the higher power part wasn’t something I entirely bought. I believed in a higher power for recovery, but I believe that was—still believe it
is
—me. Like my better self—that’s my higher power. I just need to listen to that voice.” He said, musing, to himself, “And after the fire, a still small voice.”

“I guess you have to be ready for it—recovery, I mean.”

He made a sound of agreement.

“My mother drank some.”

“She in AA?”

“Never that I know of. She wasn’t drunk every day or anything. She drank on weekends, but sometimes to excess. She’d go months without, then go back to it when she was stressed.” Images of her mother stumbling into her childhood bedroom, breathing liquor breath on her in bed, came to her.

“You pissed at her for that?”

Slowly, Coral shook her head. “Not any more. Maybe as a kid, it bothered me every once in a while. But not since she died.”

“That’s the only sure cure for boozing.”

Coral laughed, but stopped herself. “I’m horrible laughing at that.”

“You’re not horrible.” he said. “And it was my joke, anyway, so blame me.” He sighed deeply. “We need to move on. I have a rough idea of where we are, and there’s a good-sized reservoir up ahead, worth hunting for. I’d like to find it before this food is gone.”

She might be able to catch fish again. “Then we should get going,” she said, forcing herself to her feet.

* * *

Two days later, the bone was all that was left of the meat, but Benjamin had finally spotted the reservoir he’d been trying to find by zigzagging through the countryside. “If this is Magic Reservoir,” he said, “there are two more off the highway north of here. Due west from here, along a road, and I think they’re spaced about 40 miles apart. If this isn’t Magic, it’s one of the others. It’ll be good for us, as long as we can find fish or game.”

They could do 40 miles in a week, she thought, even taking into account the rolling hills they’d been moving through. “You have a good visual memory.”

“I loved maps as a kid, loved tracing them. Idaho’s is pretty firmly stuck in my mind’s eye.”

This reservoir was a much smaller body of water than American Falls, and the weather was much colder now. Ice had formed well out from the shores. They found a likely cove, and he told her to chop at the ice next to the shore while he worked at breaking it further out.

She dug out the hatchet, tested the edge, and said, “You’ll have to sharpen it again after this, I imagine.”

“Yup,” he said, and he began heaving head-sized rocks out onto the ice, trying to crack through without putting himself onto thin ice and risking falling in.

“We’re putting the fish down,” she said.

“I know,” he said. “But offer them food, I expect they’ll come back for you. Tomorrow, for sure.”

“I don’t have real food for them. Just fake food.” She banged away at the ice.

“Catch one with a lure, you’ll have fish guts for bait.”

They were both talking optimistically, as if there were fish in there. Her angling knowledge may have improved as she grew used to the new climate and situation, but fewer fish were around to be caught. She wondered if any would last the whole winter. And winter was here, and likely to be here for at least six months more. It must be into November by now. The next chance of a thaw was surely six months away. “You going hunting?”

“For game and wood both. We’re back into good forest land here, I think, so there’s a chance of finding sizable charcoal.”

It took them about an hour to clear out a good sized hole in the ice for fishing. She wondered how long it would stay clear before it iced over again. While the fish were settling down from the disturbance, she went fishing for melted water instead, tying plastic jugs partly filled with snow, for weight, to her line and casting out, jerking them around until they fell over and let water in, and reeling them back to the thicker, safe ice where she stood.

Benjamin took the rifle to hunt. While he was gone, Coral practiced her archery skills again until the light began to fade. She let the fishing line dangle, and she caught one—a new species of fish for them, a flat perch. She cleaned it, chopped the guts, rolled that into balls and set them out in a line on the snow to freeze. She wished she had corn meal or flour to stick it all together—but the chances of seeing grain any time soon—or maybe ever again—were remote. The frozen gut balls would disintegrate in the water as they melted, but that might pull the fish toward the hook as well. Maybe tomorrow would be better fishing, with that to help her.

Benjamin returned at last light with fuel. Eating weak fish soup in the light of the coals, she said, “No offense, but this is getting boring.”

“What is?”

“Doing the same damned things every day. We walk. We hunt. We fish. We eat and talk about hunting and fishing. We sleep.”

“Barely enough eating to survive.”

“I know. But maybe we could—I don’t know. Invent a saga to tell the other, or sing musical numbers from Broadway shows, or make a rabbit-pelt drum.”

“No drums. Noise carries. Especially over water.”

He was right. “I wish I would stumble on an intact library. A basement of a library with books. And then we can read aloud at the end of the day.”

“Pretty heavy to lug books around.”

She’d be willing to shoulder the weight of a couple of thick novels. “I’m spoiled, I guess.”

“I want my MTV?”

“Not MTV. But I’d kill for a DVD player and a stack of—hell, almost anything. Silent movies, if you’re worried about noise. Or a Kindle loaded with books. Or an iPod, earbuds, and a thousand songs.”

“I’d rather have a Nintendo,” he said. “I remember when the Play Station first came out.”

“Man, you
are
old.”

“Thanks, brat. I suppose you’re Wii generation.”

“My brothers more than me. I’m really not much of a gamer.”

“We could play tic-tac-toe in the snow.”

“Too simple. And it seems we’re always busy when it’s daylight.”

“We can play games while we hike,” he said. “Like twenty questions again, quietly—something like that.”

“If we have the breath for it. You know, I used to read or play games or listen to music to fill the hours, when I didn’t need to study or work. Now, there’s plenty of stuff to do to fill the hours. But I miss entertainment, especially after we eat supper.” She let out a frustrated breath. “It’s such a different world.”

“It is that.”

They said nothing more as they put out the fire, and soon they crawled into the snow cave to sleep.

The strangers arrived in the morning.

She was filling water bottles and carrying them two at a time inside the snow cave in hopes they would stay defrosted in there, when, with a sense she couldn’t name, she realized they weren’t alone. A second later, she heard a strange voice. “Drop the knife,” it said. A man.

Coral hadn’t realized she had the big knife in her hand. It had been an unconscious move to grab it, made the instant she had felt the presence of someone else.

“And you, fella, don’t go near that rifle I see over there—or any other weapon.”

Coral risked a glance at Benjamin, who had dropped the backpack he had been prepping for his day’s hunting. He put his hands up and to the sides. Coral stood up and did the same, taking a step toward Benjamin without thinking, wanting the security of having him by her side.

“Stop right there, miss,” the voice said.

Alarmed, Coral looked toward the voice and had a surprise that gave her a momentary flash of relief. It was not a military guy, as she had been half-expecting, but a tall gaunt man, his chin and head covered in a scarf, in a slate blue cape over a jacket.

“Alva, you see any others?” the man called over his shoulder, not taking his eyes off her.

A voice sounded from several feet away, on the far side of a tumble of big rocks. “Just these two.”

“Be careful,” the man said to Alva. He turned his attention to Benjamin. “What’s your name, sir?”

“Benjamin.”

“And the woman?”

“Coral,” Benjamin said.

“You married?”

Benjamin hesitated.

“Living in sin?”

“No,” Coral said, the word squeaking past her tight throat. “We’re friends.”

“Speak when you’re spoken to,” the man snapped at her. His eyes were deep-set and unfriendly.

“It’s as she says,” Benjamin said. “We’re chance companions who realized we could survive better together than alone.”

“A grown man and a woman together will have sex one day,” he said. “You are saying that day hasn’t yet come?”

“It hasn’t,” said Benjamin.

She wanted to speak up but knew not to, at least not when she had no gun and the man’s was held so competently in his hands.

“Then,” said the man. “We may have found you in time.”

For what?

Benjamin spoke again. “Sir, we didn’t realize we were trespassing on your territory. We’ll just pack up—”

“You will not,” said the man. “My name is Calex. And you’ll be coming back home with us. Tithing will decide what is to become of you.”

Tithing? Like...they were going to cut 10% of her away and eat it, and that’d decide her fate? Coral would rather break into a run and dive into the half-frozen lake, push herself under, and die that way. It would only hurt for a short time.

“He’ll know what’s best,” said the man.

After a confused moment, Coral realized a man’s name must be Tithing. She risked another glance to Benjamin.

A tiny shake of his head she read as, “Say nothing. Do nothing.”

If she could think of anything useful to do, she would do it anyway, no matter what he signaled. Problem was, she couldn’t think of a thing. They were outgunned. The rifle was too far away to lunge for it. Her bow and arrows were still on the sled.

In a half hour, under the direction of the men, they had their things packed. Benjamin’s rifle was in Calex’s possession. Her pocket knife was still in her jeans pocket. Despite them having searched Benjamin, they hadn’t touched her—not yet.

The longest blade on her pocket knife was not very long. If she had a chance, and only one man guarded her, she could jab the blade or the corkscrew into his eye, and that might allow them a chance to escape. But with more than one man, the pocket knife was no help.

As they walked, Benjamin in harness, Coral ahead of him, following the tracks their capturers had left on the way here, the other man introduced himself as Alva and said, “I’m sure you’ll be glad to see some other ladies again.” He was short, dressed in many layers for warmth, and wore one of those drugstore paper masks, once white, now stained gray with ash.

Coral said cautiously, “That’d be nice.”

“I’m sure they’ll be able to find a dress you can wear.”

A dress in this freezing weather? They’d have to hold her down and force it on her first.

“I wonder,” said Coral, trying to sound deferential. “If you know what happened back in June.”

“A day of reckoning,” said the man. And he sounded happy about it. “And a day of great change.”

Coral said, “I see.”

“You probably don’t,” said Alva. “But you will.”

That sounded like a threat to Coral, a threat that he’d make her agree with his version of what had happened, whether or not she wished to. She wondered. As hungry and tired as she was, as pessimistic as she felt about ever seeing her family or anything approaching the normal world again...maybe she
could
be brainwashed. Wasn’t that how it happened? First you broke the person down, and then they would believe anything. They’d confess to anything, change a lifetime of values and beliefs. They’d break.

The Event had broken her most of the way already. Yes, she had gained survival skills, and she had proven to be tougher than she ever knew she could be. But hunger, exhaustion, grief, and fear had left her vulnerable. She knew that she had to reach inside herself and prepare for whatever happened next. She made herself a solemn vow to stay strong, no matter what they tried to do to her mind...or to her body.

They traveled all morning, following a frozen stream, until they came to the outskirt of a settlement. She stopped dead when she saw a barbwire pen with a goat—no, two goats. An answering honking in the distance noise made her jump.

“Don’t worry. That’s our donkey,” said Alva. “Jubilee is his name. He’ll be out hauling supplies for us.”

“How did the animals survive the fire? And the heat?”

“In a cave.”

“Me, too.”

“Well then, that proves it. You were meant to find us.”

They moved down a well-beaten path in the snow to a clearing with three small stone buildings, and a small brick structure that she realized, as they passed it, was a barbecue pit. A fourth, larger building was set back from the others.

Alva pointed to a woman coming toward them. “There’s Brynn now. She’ll get you settled.”

Calex went to speak quietly with the woman, who stared at Coral the whole time.

When he returned, he and Alva led Benjamin away, and Coral started to follow.

“Girl, get back where you belong,” said Calex.

Coral stopped, confused. She didn’t want to let Benjamin out of her sight. Suddenly, she realized that no one was within twenty yards of her, though the woman was headed this way.

Should she run? No. She couldn’t leave Benjamin. She’d risk a bullet in the back to get away, if she were alone. But she wouldn’t leave him.

And who knew what this place might have to offer? Animals, for one thing, so they might have food. Was that worth the risk of staying here? If the two of them were fed well, staying a few days might be okay. But she worried that getting away might not be that easy.

The woman walked up to her. She was white, middle aged, had unruly eyebrows and a firm expression. She was wearing a long patchwork skirt. “I’m Miz Duhalde. Brynn.”

“Coral,” she said.

“Are you chosen?”

She had no idea how to answer. “I suppose it depends on who does the choosing.”

The woman gave her a sharp look. “I don’t want any smart aleck answers.”

“I wasn’t being smart,” she said. “Though I’m going to take a guess that your group and I don’t share a belief system.”

“You’re here now.” The message was clear. Forget your ways. You’ll believe ours now.

I am here, she thought—and I really don’t want to be stuck here. Let me make that clear. “We appreciate your hosting us for the night.” She emphasized the last words.

“You come on over into the sisterhouse, and I’ll get you something to wear.”

Coral glanced at herself. She was filthy, which she’d grown used to over the weeks, but she’d spend a day being polite in exchange for a bath and a couple of solid meals. “Do you have soap?” she asked.

“Baths on Saturday night,” said the woman. “You can wash up today.”

“And what day is it today?”

“Why wouldn’t you know? Are you touched in the head?”

“I’ve been too busy surviving to keep a diary.” 

“I don’t need you to be smart with me, I said.”

“Was that smart? Probably exhaustion is what you’re hearing. And hunger. Calex drove us like cattle getting here, and I haven’t eaten much for several days.” She corrected herself. “Several weeks.”

“Let’s get you presentable, first,” the woman said. “Dinner’s in a few hours.”

Brynn pointed to one of the smaller stone buildings.

As Coral neared it, she could see it wasn’t an old building, as she had assumed from a distance, but a new one. The stones were piled up to form walls thick at the base and thinner at the top. The stones were not mortared. She wondered if it were safe to enter. “Is one of you a stone mason?” she asked, hoping the answer would be “yes.”

“Polly,” the woman called, ignoring the question. “Come on out here.”

A girl, twelve or so, emerged from the stone cabin, wearing a faded denim dress under a jacket two or three sizes too large for her. The lower part of her calves was covered with thick socks, two or three layers of them, by the looks of it.

“Zip that jacket all the way up,” said Brynn to the girl, “and go get a pitcher of wash water for this woman.”

The door was only a wool blanket tacked over the open doorway. Coral pushed through it into a single room, smelling faintly of urine and human sweat. There was no heat source, so it was as cold as the outdoors, but at least she was protected from the wind.

“Take off your jacket, let me see your size,” said Brynn.

Coral hugged it to her. “I’m cold.”

“You’ll get it back.” When Coral didn’t move, she said, “I promise.”

Reluctantly, Coral peeled off her outer wear. Long bolts had been inserted between the stones during the building process and stuck out of the walls to be used as pegs, and a sweater and a dress were already hung there. She started to hang her jacket, but Brynn gestured for it, looked it over, then tossed it aside on a cot.

Brynn handed her a sleeveless shift, made of burlap or some other rough material, attached at the shoulders and down the sides, the simplest of garments. “This should fit you.”

“I’d be too cold.”

“Put your sweater on over it. But we can’t have you looking like a man, in those dungarees.”

“That makes no sense. You’d rather have a woman trip over a skirt, or get frostbite on her legs?”

“One more word,” she said, leaving the thought unfinished. But her pinched lips and narrowed eyes were eloquent.

Coral thought about the implied threat. Would she be slapped, beaten, punched? Killed for refusing? She didn’t want to find out. She’d put on the dress for a day just to shut the woman up. She stripped off her boots and undid her jeans, letting them drop to her ankles and stepping out.

“Heavens!” said the woman. “You don’t have any underthings!”

“They fell apart from being worn every day,” Coral explained. She was cold and she was embarrassed—and mad at herself for feeling embarrassed. Survival didn’t leave a lot of time for fashion considerations. Upon reflection, she was happy she didn’t have her panties any longer, for their skimpy cut would have surely drawn the wrath of the woman even more than their absence.

“We don’t have extra. Maybe we can cut down those jeans and—”

“No!” said Coral. “These keep me warm!” She couldn’t risk having her clothes cut up. She needed them for when she left. And the sooner that happened, she was thinking, the better.

“I suppose one of the men might fit into them, after we wash them repeatedly.”

Well, screw you, lady. Coral thought, giving her jeans a sharp shake and thrusting one foot in. She felt the lump of her knife still in the pocket. Good.

As she was tugging her jeans up over her knees, the girl walked in, carrying a pitcher of water. She gasped. “Sister Brynn, she has no underwear on!”

“Put down the water and get out, Polly.” Brynn got in Coral’s face. “And you, hand over those men’s pants so I can give you your dress.”

“I think I’ll leave, thank you anyway,” said Coral, leaning back from the woman’s warm, meaty breath.

“You’ll leave when Tithing tells you to leave, and not a moment before.”

“Yeah? Stop me,” said Coral, pulling up the jeans and buttoning them. She grabbed her jacket in one hand and snatched her boots with the other.

She pushed past the blanket door, transferring her jacket to her mouth to hold, then hopping on one foot while she yanked one boot on. She paused for a second as she jammed the second foot into the other boot. Her socks were shoved into the boots’ toes, and the laces were untied, but she still managed to jog the way the men had gone, past the girl Polly, who stared at her, openmouthed. Working her arms through her jacket sleeves, Coral slowed down to a fast walk when she realized that woman Brynn wasn’t chasing her. At the other end of the clearing, beyond another stone cabin, three men were unpacking the sled while Calex still held a rifle pointed generally in Benjamin’s direction. There was Alva working at unloading, and two other men.