“Mostly, it’s good. But we lost a number of patients, and Tegan’s taking it hard.”
He nodded. “She feels like Doc Tuttle would do a better job if he were here because she didn’t complete her training with him.”
“He might know about treatments but there’s no way he could care more.” I finished my meal, then said, “Let me tell her, so she doesn’t worry.”
“She’s already eaten?”
“I always send her first. She won’t leave unless I make her.”
“Then let’s go,” he said.
Since I had Fade with me, despite my weariness, I ran the distance to the granary and darted inside. Today, it smelled less of putrid wounds and more of antiseptic. The scent of blood had dissipated days past. Two of the pallets were empty, so I hoped that meant they were moving around, not dead. I didn’t ask since Tegan wasn’t crying; I decided to assume the best.
She actually smiled when she saw me enter, Fade behind me. “Let me guess, you want some time off.”
“Just a little while. Will you be all right?”
“Of course. You’ve been more help than I could’ve asked. Go.” She made a shooing motion with both hands.
This time I took her at her word. As we stepped outside, Fade stilled me with a look. Once he was sure he had my attention, he reached out and laced our fingers together. Heat curled up my hand all the way to my forearm, but I was afraid to move, afraid I was dreaming. I could feel the difference in his fingertips, new calluses from working with Edmund. He rubbed his thumb across the back of my hand and I shivered in pleasure.
“You’re better?” I breathed.
“Not wholly. But I’ve been doing what you suggested, picturing the happy moments when it gets bad. I don’t like being grabbed unexpectedly—” From his expression, that was awful. “But I … can manage when I’m the one reaching out, and it’s even easier with you.”
“The memories will fade.” I sounded more sure than I felt, but it seemed like a reasonable guess. After all, I couldn’t remember much about going hungry as a brat, but during lean times, we all ate less than we wanted. Time had a way of smoothing out the rough edges.
“I suspect you’re right,” he said, surprising me.
He led me toward the town gate; apparently we would start the explorations at the beginning. In daylight things looked even more forbidding. I would’ve been able to tell that a military force was responsible for this settlement, even if nobody had told me. From the fortifications to the hidden defenses, Soldier’s Pond appeared more ready for war than Salvation, despite the lack of wooden walls. To my mind, now that the Freaks had fire, that might prove an advantage. Deep into the grass beyond the gate, I glimpsed defensive countermeasures: unnatural bulges in the ground and hidden pits, stands of wire, wrapped around devices I couldn’t identify.
In the distance I heard chanting, but I couldn’t make out the source until a group of recruits, all dressed uniformly in green, came loping past. I was awed by the matching cadences of their strides, the way their echoed words came perfectly in unison. At once I grasped the value of such training; not only were they strengthening their bodies, but the chant got them used to one another’s rhythms, which would translate to better combat timing.
Fade followed my glance. “You want to run with them?”
“Will they let us?”
“Officially? No. But they won’t break stride to drive us off, either.”
“Then let’s go.”
As the soldiers approached, we fell in behind them. I got my tour while moving at a smart clip, and I took everything in—the houses were functional at best, and some of them had a strange look, as if humans hadn’t built them. The cuts were too neat, and I had no idea how a person could construct something out of sheets of metal. Here and there sat the rusted remnants of old machinery, a few of which had once been automated wagons, but they didn’t move anymore. The whole town was ringed in open steel fencing, so you could see right through it, and then it had spiked wires across the top. I suspected it would be hard to climb, difficult to maneuver over the top, and it didn’t burn, either. There were eight watchtowers posted around the perimeter, and from what I could tell, the men on duty were fully alert, scanning the horizon for any sign that the trouble from Salvation had followed us.
I didn’t learn the words to the running chant until our third circuit of town. By then, I was singing them out along with everyone else. It made me happy to keep up with grown fighting men, even with the long hours I had been working in the field hospital. When we finished, I was sweaty, but glowing with pride. Fade looked more or less the same as we ran through what the leader called cool-down exercises; it was mostly stretching, flexing, bending, and walking around, but he was right. I felt better when I stopped gradually.
“You sure you don’t want to join up?” the leader asked Fade. “You’re a natural recruit.”
He shook his head. “No thanks. Deuce isn’t old enough yet.”
The man’s expression hardened. “Think about your answer, son. Your thirty days will be up in a couple of weeks. What do you plan to do then?”
Belatedly I realized what that meant. Fade must be eighteen, or thereabouts. He wasn’t sure of his naming day, I suspected, as the elders had guessed down in the enclave. But based on his appearance and prowess, these soldiers were willing to take him on faith.
I swallowed hard. “If you want to sign up and take their training, I understand.”
“You’re crazy if you think I’m ever leaving you.”
That’s not what you said before. I must’ve said it with my eyes, as I would never do so out loud, because he registered my pain with a remorseful look.
“I wasn’t in my right mind,” he said softly. “You have no idea how much I regret hurting you, how much I wish I could take back what I said. I’m grateful you didn’t listen.”
It was frightening how happy he made me with a mere handful of words, but my heart, stupid bird that it was, sang on.
Torn
Before returning to the field hospital, I took a quick bath; there were private facilities for men and women. I’d asked how they managed it and received an explanation about rainwater, cisterns, and gravity. To me, it meant only that I could pull a lever and a trickle of water fell on my head while I stood in a narrow room. This was similar to how it had been down below, but the water was warm in Soldier’s Pond. They used the sun to heat it somehow.
The shower felt great but I didn’t linger. Afterward I dressed and ran back. I found Tegan with six patients, one of whom was Harry Carter. The other two pallets had been rolled up and stacked for laundering. Since she was smiling, I took that for good news.
“They recovered?”
“Enough to decide to leave,” she said.
Her gaze roved over my wet hair, clothes still sticking to my damp skin because I hadn’t taken time to dry off properly. “Do you mind if I go to the bathhouse too?”
It had been long enough that she desperately needed to clean up, but I hadn’t wanted to say something like, Get out of here already, Tegan, you stink.
“I can manage,” I said.
Since I’d watched over three times this number, not long ago, and we didn’t have any treatments due for a while, it should be easy. For the moment, I was content—full belly, muscles pleasantly lax from the run with Fade, and I was quietly glowing, too, over those moments afterward. Though things might be terrible again soon enough, right now everything felt all right. Or as much as it could be, considering what happened in Salvation.
Once Tegan had gone, I settled in the middle of the room, so I would hear if anyone called me. Sometimes the patients needed water or had an itch they couldn’t reach. At first it was quiet, then the pervasive whisper reached me. It was a thread of sound, my name rustling through dry lips. I brought the water pitcher with its ladle with me, expecting Harry Carter wanted a drink. But when I settled beside him, he opened his eyes. His face was terrible and sallow, which Tegan said was bad.