August Ansel - Shadow Road

“THANK YOU FOR YOUR COOPERATION.”

Twenty feet overhead, two men stood on a platform built high up between the massive trees. The arrangement was open on all four sides, protected by a guardrail and canted roof. The burlier of the two stood with his feet at shoulder width, aiming a compound bow. The other, similarly armed, had his bow in one hand and a bullhorn in the other. He watched them for a moment and lowered the bullhorn.

“If you can hear me, I can put this down,” said the bullhorn guy. “This work?”

All of them were momentarily mute, and then Arie answered. “We hear you.”

He nodded and rested the horn next to his foot. Without missing a beat, he took his weapon in both hands, though he kept it lowered. “Good morning, then,” he said. “My name is Steve. How many are you, total?”

“The six you see,” she said.

“Six total, with your dog.”

“Correct. How many are you?”

Steve didn’t appear challenged by her question. “More than six,” he said mildly. “It’s cold out here and I don’t want to hold you with the weather opening up this way. If you want to continue in this direction, we have a few questions.”

“We have a hurt kid,” said Curran. “We don’t want trouble and we don’t want anything of yours. Just some shelter to take care of him.”

“If you want to continue in this direction—”

“What are your questions?” said Handy.

Steve inclined his head in the direction of his partner and they passed a few words, not wavering in their attention. The man with the bow gave a subtle nod and Steve continued.

“Why are you here?”

“I told you,” shouted Curran. “We have an injured boy.”

Arie moved beside him and laid a hand on his arm. “My name is Arie,” she said. “This is my family. We’re traveling north to our home place and would have passed by you entirely if this child hadn’t run straight into danger.”

“Where did you come from?”

“We started in Eureka weeks ago,” said Arie, “and somewhat against our will. We’ve managed hard troubles since then and wish only to take the rest of our journey.” She smoothed Kory’s hair back from his ashen face, alarmed all over again by the heat baking off him. The wet kerchief she’d left at his chin had slipped into the crook of his neck. She lifted it, thinking to sponge his brow, but the cloth was practically dry. “The plain truth is that we either stop today and shelter up, or there will soon be five of us going north. Whatever choice you have to make, do it now.”

The two sentries conferred a second time, and the man with the bow lowered his weapon. “My name is Jud,” he said. “Arie, we’re going to signal some friends. Please don’t be alarmed. We can see the boy isn’t well. We want to help. All right?”

Arie turned to Handy and Renna. “Okay with this?” she asked. Handy searched Renna’s face, a wordless decision passing between them.

“I think we have to,” said Renna, although she was clearly anxious, holding tightly to the hem of Handy’s jacket.

“We agree,” Arie called up to the men.

Steve reached into the shadows over his head and pulled hard. Suddenly a bell tolled above them—a big one by the sound of it—slowly at first, then picking up speed. After several sonorous strikes, he released the rope. As the ringing slowed, Jud addressed them again, while Steve began speaking on a walkie-talkie.

“This is a highly regulated community,” Jud said. “Being allowed to enter is a provisional courtesy and should not be construed as an open invitation. We retain the right to expel anyone from our community as we deem necessary for the good of us all. Do you understand?” There was a rote quality to his recitation of these rules, but Arie sensed no deception in it.

“We do.”

“Someone from our infirmary will be here shortly. One of you will be allowed to stay with the boy at all times,” Jud said. “But only one. You may decide who that is.”

“Mom.”

It was Kory. Whether it was the sound of the bell or the cool flecks of rain now speckling his hot skin, he’d come to in Curran’s arms. He lifted a hand, which trembled badly, and pointed at Renna. “I want Mom. Please,” he repeated in the same hoarse croak. The shaking hand dropped onto his chest. His face crumpled, but in his dehydrated state no tears came.

Renna let go of Handy and went to the boy. “I’m right here, Kory,” she whispered. “Don’t cry, pal.” She kissed his feverish cheek and turned an anguished face to Arie. “Is it the coat?” she asked. “His mom’s coat—does he think I’m her?”

“It doesn’t matter,” said Arie. “He wants the comfort of you.”

Now they could hear footsteps and the distinct sound of hard wheels rolling over rough asphalt on the other side of the barrier. Steve crossed to the rear of the sentry platform and signaled with two raised palms. The footsteps ceased.

“One more agreement before we admit you,” said Jud. “You’ll have to relinquish your large weapons.”

Curran’s jaw clenched and he began to vehemently shake his head, but Jud held up a hand.

“I understand,” he said. “It’s not an easy ask. But you need to realize we have a larger duty to our community. You may keep a knife on your person, as long as it’s under eight inches—no machetes or the like. All other weapons—bows, slings, hatchets, that rifle—must be turned over and tagged. This is a temporary measure, but it’s non-negotiable. If you cannot agree, we understand. In that case, you’ll be fed one meal and provided one night of shelter. After that, you’ll be escorted away from the town limits.” He looked directly at Arie and dipped his chin in a short nod. “Please confer,” he said.

She turned her back to the sentries and looked at Handy. “Brother?”

Handy was quiet. His eyes went to each of them in turn, resting finally on Kory. The boy had already faded back to sleep or unconsciousness.

“If they only mean to waylay us,” Handy said, “they’ve gone to hard lengths. My gut says it’s worth the risk. You and Curran, though,” he said to Renna, “the two of you were caught in the pitcher plant. Stuck with Russell’s Konungar against your wills. If this doesn’t feel safe to either of you, I can’t agree to stay, no matter what my gut says.”

Renna shook her head. “No way am I choosing,” she said. “The thought of walking in there, sight unseen, makes me want to puke. But Kory…” she whispered. “I think not walking in is like putting that gun to his head.”

Curran nodded. He looked up at the sentry platform, where Jud and Steve waited silently. Their crossbows were still in hand, their posture calm yet watchful. His own expression made Arie’s heart ache. He was clearly spent to the point of exhaustion, deep lines furrowed between his brows and bracketing his mouth.

“I don’t believe we have another cold, wet night in us,” she said. “Handy, you’ve seen more out on this road than any of us. If your gut says yes, I trust it.”

That seemed to settle the matter. “We agree to your terms,” Curran called up to Jud. “Let us in. Please.”

Steve signaled again to those below. There was a complicated, scrabbling sound at the barrier, and then Arie saw a look of amazement on the faces around her that perfectly mimicked the sensation in her head. One moment the sawhorses, crossed poles, metal panels, and razor wire appeared to create a single contiguous and impenetrable snarl; the next, a door appeared, opening as if by magic. A black sheet, like the fabric used to line garden beds, hung in the doorway. Their view of the other side was obscured so that the people there appeared as only a faceless, amorphous group.