August Ansel - Shadow Road

“Well, I’ll be damned,” said Arie, and found herself—despite every awful minute of the past few days—smiling.

“Please place your weapons, as agreed, on the ground in front of you,” Steve said from the platform above. His voice had reverted to the cool, business-like tone he’d used when they first stumbled up to the barrier. Both he and Jud had their crossbows cocked and aimed.

“Fuck me,” Curran whispered.

“They’re vulnerable now,” murmured Arie. “Not wanting to risk an ambush. I think we’re all right.”

Handy nodded. He laid his own bow on the ground, followed by the machete and slingshot. Arie added her short spear and sling. Renna gave up the hand axe. Their sharpened walking sticks went on the pile, too, along with Renna’s shot. Finally, Handy helped Curran shoulder the rifle off his back.

“Is that everything?” asked Steve.

“One more,” said Handy. He dug Kory’s shot out of his pack. “We all have knives,” said Handy. “That’s it.”

“Show them,” said Jud. They did, pulling them from belt and sheath. “That’s fine,” said Jud. He nodded to Steve, who signaled his group.

The heavy black cloth was pulled to the side, and four people stepped out, two men and two women. One of the women pushed an actual hospital gurney. She was tall, nearly as tall as Curran, and wore purple surgical scrubs covered with neon yellow pineapples.

Walking single file, they threaded their way through the complex barrier by some preordained path that neatly avoided the noise alarm. Once outside the line of vehicles, they rolled the gurney straight up to Curran.

“My name is Sisi,” said the woman in scrubs. “You can put your boy here.” Her voice was deep and mild, but left no question that she was absolutely taking charge of Kory’s care. She toed down the gurney’s wheel locks. One of the men who’d come out with her took hold of its foot end. Curran lowered the boy onto the padded surface, grimacing as he straightened his arms.

“Watch the leg,” said Arie. “His right. It’s in poor shape.”

Sisi nodded. “Thank you. Tell me.” She pulled back the blanket and began to carefully unwrap Kory’s leg.

Arie told her about the trap and explained what she’d done to tend the wounds. Her face clenched when Sisi got the injuries exposed. The swelling and discoloration were even worse than they had been at dawn. The gashes were not only draining a noxious yellow, but had gone bright red around their edges. “Infected,” she said.

“Honey,” Sisi said, “you folks did well, and he’s lucky for it.” She let the sheet fall back over Kory’s leg and tucked the blanket around him with quick efficiency. “In five minutes we’ll have him in the infirmary on an antibiotic push. Who’s coming with him?” she asked, glancing first at Curran.

“I am,” said Renna.

“Good,” said Sisi. “This fellow helping us is Bruce.” One of the men lifted a hand and smiled at Renna. “He’s going to walk out front to help steer. What’s your name, honey?” As she talked, she fitted a simple harness over Kory’s head and buckled it across his chest. Bruce secured another strap around the boy’s lap like a seatbelt. A third strap, meant to go across the legs, was left undone.

“I’m Renna.”

“I’ll be here by your boy’s head, Renna,” Sisi continued, “doing the pushing. You follow me through this mess to the door. Then you’ll walk alongside in case your boy wakes up and wants to see a familiar face. Ready?” She’d already unlocked the wheels and given the gurney a smooth shove to get it rolling. Renna fell in behind them, sparing a single look back.

Talus whined, a long, plaintive sound that rose and rose until it became a true howl, full of love and sorrow. Curran pulled her close. She burrowed her big head into his thigh for only a moment, and then continued staring after Kory. “It’s okay,” he soothed. “We’ll find him.”

“We’re right behind them,” said the second woman to Curran. “Try not to worry.” Then she turned to Arie and held out a hand.

She was as short and wiry as Sisi was tall and muscular. In the day’s muddy light, her blonde hair—hardly an inch long—seemed incandescent, and she broadcast an almost electric energy. “I’m Marianne,” she said, “but everybody calls me Moxie. My partner here is Saeed.”

“Welcome,” said Saeed. He appeared to be middle-aged. A wide, white streak swept back through his black hair and there were silver glints in his wispy beard. His features were unlined, except at the corners of his dark eyes where deeply etched wrinkles hinted at a life spent finding things to smile at.

“Thank you. Hello,” said Arie. She took Moxie’s hand, then Saeed’s. There was certainty in the gesture, from both of them. Strength. The rough skin of working hands. “I’m Arie,” she said. “This is Curran, and my brother, William.”

Moxie shook with Curran, a single forthright pump. “Hello Curran. And William,” she said, grasping his hand.

“Call me Handy,” he said.

“Ah, another nicknamer,” Moxie said. “And are you?”

Handy blinked. “Am I…”

“Handy. Are you handy?”

“I’m… yes?”

Once again, Arie caught an incongruous smile trying to flicker to the surface. Handy—quiet and deliberate at the best of times, currently worn to an exhausted nub—looked like a turtle trying to comprehend a kit fox.

“And this one?” asked Moxie, looking at the dog.

“Talus,” said Curran.

“All heart, it looks like.”

“She’s a rock-solid wonder,” said Arie.

Saeed cleared his throat. “It’s best we go inside,” he said. “We’ll have time to chat on our walk back.” He waved them toward the open gate with its ingenious camouflage.

“Let’s go,” said Moxie.

They followed her through the maze of cars and sawhorses. Saeed followed them; when the gate closed, he slid three separate bolts into place. He sketched a quick salute to the men in the sentry station, and Jud returned the gesture.

Inside the fence, the road had obviously received care and maintenance. The asphalt was just as deeply split and hoven, but the weeds had been shaved close, the pavement cleared. There were no derelict vehicles, not even pushed off onto the shoulders. The inside of the compound fence was stacked high at its base with sandbags.

“I know you have a million questions,” said Moxie. “Let me explain the basics, and then we can drill down to any specifics you’re unclear on.”

She turned on her heel and began walking backward while she talked. “You all are considered newcomers for the first three days. We used to say refugee—it seems like a perfect word, if you think about it—but it had weird connotations for some people, so we switched to newcomer. Anyway, that’s a three-day thing. You’ll have a place to sleep and your meals provided. During that time—”

“Our boy is badly hurt,” said Arie. “I can’t imagine he’ll even be out of bed in a week. If we’re newcomers for only three days, what happens after that?”

“When can we see Kory?” said Curran. “And Renna.”

Moxie stopped short, her explanatory patter ending mid-sentence, eyes roaming from face to face.

“Damn,” she sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m fire-hosing you with the complete four-one-one, and you’re all so burned out right now you look like you’re about to fall in your tracks.” She scrubbed both hands through her short hair so that it stood up in a platinum corona.

“I get it,” she said quietly. “You all have a million reasons to not trust us. But if you can hang in there a little longer, this will all make a lot more sense. I promise.” She traced an X above one breast like a child swearing the truth. “We’ll answer all your questions when we get there. We’ve got this newcomer stuff down pat. Cross my heart.”