Sophie Littlefield - Horizon

“That car’s not going anywhere, but Dana’ll probably appoint a fucking committee to make sure,” Dor muttered.

“What were you thinking?” Cass demanded, trying to keep the hysteria out of her voice. “The odds of you landing that jump-you could have gone on foot-they weren’t going anywhere-one more minute, or you could have, you could have shot them from this side of the fence, you could have-”

“Cass.” Dor paused with only one arm through a sleeve, and reached for her. He cupped her face with one strong hand and forced her to look at him. “This isn’t the Box. Or haven’t you noticed that? Ten of these people aren’t the man George was, or Three-High or Joe or Elaine. If I’d waited, the Beaters would have split up and surged into the group and there’s no way this crowd could have responded, they’d still be standing there with their mouths hanging open and their pants down as they were tore into and there’s no telling how many we would’ve lost.”

He let go of her, but Cass could feel the mark of his fingers on her skin. She felt bruised. But he was right. There had been no training in New Eden like there was in the Box. No drills. No security. They had the bridge and they had weapons and they thought that was enough. It was enough, until the day it wasn’t, and no one, including her, had seen it coming.

“Who was in the car?” she asked softly, acknowledging that he had been right.

Dor frowned. “Pulte. Should’ve been Hank, but he let Pulte drive first.”

“Oh, no…”

“Yeah, they were going to take turns. Hank’s-there he is. He’s got the fuel wagon.”

Cass looked where he was pointing; there-on the other side of the crowd-was the three-wheeler Elsa had lovingly maintained and even took the kids for rides in it a few times in the yard, on special occasions. It was pulling a beat-up U-Haul trailer loaded with cans and gallon jugs and soda bottles, all of them filled with gas.

“Fucking Pulte.”

Cass said nothing. She’d known the guy, a little. Not much older than Roan, and in fact the rumor was they were together. But not until after he’d tried with Cass. He ran hot and reckless, and Cass had known what attracted him to her and hated it and stayed away. And he’d found his thrills elsewhere.

Like in that car.

“I have to go,” Cass whispered.

“I hear Smoke’s with you.” Dor stopped her with a hand on her arm, his voice hard, his eyes unreadable. “That he’s made a remarkable recovery.”

Cass only nodded, at a loss for words.

“I want to see him.”

It was hardly the time for reunions, but Cass was not about to argue. She led the way through the crowd, her heart pounding with adrenaline and fear and something else, some vague foreboding about Dor and Smoke.

Smoke saw them coming and scrambled off the trailer, dragging his bad leg. He staggered toward them, his face contorted in fear and anger.

“Dor-”

“Smoke, it’s great to see you-”

“How could you let her take a chance like that?” Smoke’s voice was choked with fury and he did not take Dor’s offered hand. “All she had was a blade, she-”

“You’ve been gone for a while,” Dor said tightly, and slowly lowered his hand. “She’s tougher than you think. She’s done what she had to do.”

Done what she had to do. There was no mistaking the implication in his voice, and Cass shot him a furious look. So he wanted their affair out in the open. Well, it was just as well; someone would tell Smoke soon enough. After the scene with Valerie at the water’s edge, it was common knowledge.

Smoke looked from one of them to the other, his eyes narrowing. “I know she’s tough, MacFall. I lived with her, remember?”

“Hey.” Red stepped between the two men. “Now is not the time. We can catch up later, my friends. Everyone’s fine, that’s what matters.”

“What the hell, Cass?” Smoke turned to face her, his face twisted in fury and pain. “What were you thinking? ”

“I had to, they were about to attack-”

“Dor had it handled.”

“He couldn’t have held them off by himself.”

“Then you should have let someone else.”

“No one else would!” Tears of frustration stung Cass’s eyes. The aftereffects of the adrenaline surge had left her shaking and trembling and she felt dizzy.

“You can’t take risks like that, you can’t-”

“You don’t get it, Smoke, this isn’t like the Box! These people, they’re soft, they’re afraid, they don’t-”

“Ruthie needs you.” Smoke took her hand and pulled her toward him, turning his back on everyone else. “I need you,” he added, more quietly.

Dor made a sound of disgust and strode away, back toward the front of the crowd. Cass did not allow herself to watch him go. She stared into Smoke’s eyes, the pallor of his winter-skin reddened by exertion, and knew that he did not mean that he needed her in order to become whole again or to finish healing. It was his spirit he was speaking of, but he couldn’t know how far she’d fallen, how little of what was good in her remained.

Maybe he’d forgive what she’d done with Dor, but it wasn’t just that. She was weak now, a drinker, a shirker of duties. If she hadn’t given herself away to Dor, it would have been someone else, some other path to release. Cass was weak, she was barely able to take care of Ruthie, and there was not enough left even for her to care for her own damaged self. How could she reconstruct enough of her shattered soul to be anywhere close to what he needed?

She shook her head. “Zihna,” she said, turning away. “I think I need to sit down. Just for a minute.”

And Zihna, who made a specialty of knowing what people needed, pushed aside the blankets to make a place for her, and put Ruthie in her arms and when the crowd started moving again, a few moments later, it was Red who pulled the trailer and Smoke who pushed the empty stroller, using it like a walker, his face set in such grim determination that Cass didn’t doubt he’d walk to the end of the earth before he gave up.

THEY’D GONE LESS than a mile before they heard the cries start up again.

More Beaters.

“Goddamn it,” Red said. “Who would have thought the fuckers would have it in them? They always go back to their nests at night. Always. ”

Cass jumped off the trailer, carrying Ruthie; there would be no time for resting now. She craned her neck to try to see but they were in the back of the crowd and all she could see was the others, bodies with their burdens, and in the front the remaining vehicles. She searched for Dor, found him through the crowd, walking near the front, having abandoned the downed motorcycle.

“Red,” Zihna muttered urgently. “We need to get everyone to the center.”

Smoke was already reaching for Ruthie. “I can get this,” he said, settling her into the stroller.

“You know I have to go,” Cass said.

His jaw tightened, but he said nothing as he fastened Ruthie’s buckle.

“They need me. There aren’t enough who can fight.”

Finally, he looked at her, and she saw the grim determination written on his face. “It should be me, protecting you,” he said.

“It will be, soon, I promise.”

“Get me a gun, a blade, anything-”

Cass looked away. “Yes. Fine. I’ll see what I can do. But meanwhile, please, please take care of Ruthie, okay?”

“Yes, of course.” Smoke closed his eyes for half a second, took a breath. “Look, I’m sorry about-with Dor. I know I overreacted, I know I had no right, I just want, I need…”

“Your place is here for now, Smoke,” Zihna said firmly, stepping in between them.