Ann Aguirre - Enclave

Sighing, I ate some more of the creamed corn and opened another tin. It smelled like meat, chopped up, with some other stuff in it. With a mental shrug, I ate some of that too. I drank some water and then passed the bottle around. The others were packing their things when I headed out of the kitchen toward the doors.

Darkness fell over me like a balm, cool wind carrying the hint of rain. I hoped it would hold off. I hadn’t enjoyed our first night aboveground with the water lashing my skin in stinging needles. I felt a little warm still and my face hurt, not just from Tegan’s punch. That would definitely bruise, though; she had a good solid swing.

Stalker caught up with me on the stairs. The shadows made him less fearsome, softening the scars and the paint. I noticed that hadn’t worn off, despite washing, which intrigued me.

“I will if she will,” he said.

“What?”

“Start over. I did what I had to with the Wolves. But things are different now. And I can accept that. I understand I’m not in charge.”

I considered his words. In that way he was like me; he could flow as needed in order to survive. It was different from brute force, but I recognized it as strength.

“Nobody is, really. We have to work together.”

He nodded and moved on, apparently considering the subject closed. “What do your scars mean?”

At first I didn’t know how he’d seen them and then I realized. He must’ve watched me taking care of my arm. “They mean I used to be a Huntress.” At his look, I added, “Remember how I said if I was strong enough or brave enough, I’d fight the Freaks for the rest of the enclave?” He nodded. “ That’s what they mean.”

“So they’re a sign you protect people,” he said. “Fade has them too.”

“He has more marks now.” I spoke the words without accusation. Since I’d asked them to do it, I had to let the past go too.

“I guess he does.”

I surprised myself by asking, “What do yours mean? And the paint?”

“It’s not paint,” he said. “It’s ink.”

“Like they used in books?” My brow furrowed.

“Kind of. We do it with needles along the line of the scar. It marks our rank.”

I had been right about that much at least. “Did it hurt?”

“Yes. Did yours?”

I wasn’t about to tell him that I’d cried when they put the white-hot blade to my skin. But I admitted, “A lot.”

Before he could answer, the others joined us.

Fade cast a glance between us, as if wondering what we’d been talking about, but otherwise he was all business. “We should find the river again, and follow it north as long as we can. We’ll need the water to boil and drink. There should be fish too, and we can hunt along the way when the tins run out.”

That sounded like a good plan. I tugged the extra fabric up over my head as the wind kicked up. It carried a whisper of water, spattering us. The chill intensified. Though the days were warm, the nights were cold.

“Before we leave the ruins, we should look for warmer clothes,” Tegan said.

I agreed. “I’m sure we’ll pass more shops.”

Fade hadn’t talked to me much since yesterday. He was taking Pearl’s death hard, much as he had Banner’s. It made me angry. He didn’t understand the tenet: “The dead are past saving.” You could miss someone, but it did no good to fixate on loss. I wished I had the ready words of a Breeder or the ability to comfort with a soft touch. I didn’t. Instead I had daggers and determination.

That would have to do.

We traveled north along the river.

The ruins went on much farther than I could have ever imagined. They encompassed an incredible amount of territory. I could barely believe people once filled all that space. We stayed ahead of the Freaks, if there were any nearby. I watched for signs and sniffed the air, but the farther north we went, the less I saw any hint of habitation, human or otherwise.

At first, we set a good pace because we had some supplies left from the ruins. Once those ran out, the trip slowed because we had to find food, and boil water in the evenings to make sure we had some to drink the next day. Once we passed out of the ruins, we went longer without seeing any relics of days past. We still saw no indication anyone had survived the plague, other than the underground tribes and the gangers.

We had been walking for eight days when Stalker and Tegan complained about our hours. It was the first time they’d agreed on anything, though they were careful to keep the animosity silent and simmering. Neither of them let their past color our journey outwardly.

Stalker brought it up. “We can stop traveling at night. It’s getting colder, and there’s nothing much out here to avoid.”

Apart from wild animals, I had to agree with him.

Tegan seconded. “I’d like to see the sun again.”

Fade looked thoughtful. “We’d have to lay off travel for a day. Stay awake and gather supplies so we can shift to sleeping at night.”

“It’s not like we’re going to be late.” Tegan grinned at him.

I nodded. “It’s fine.”

Everyone had to make sacrifices, so it was my turn. But part of me couldn’t help but fear what would happen. The sun was going to burn me to a cinder.

“Your skin will get used to it,” Fade said softly. “Just stay covered up as much as you can during the adjustment period.”

“Good thing it’s cold anyway.”

We’d picked up warmer clothing on the way out of the ruins, but it had been harder than I’d expected. Bugs had chewed a lot of fabric and mold and mildew had gotten a lot too. The slick fabric I wore now was the most resistant, so we’d started looking for heavier clothing made of the same stuff. Layers made sense, so we were all bundled against the bitter wind.

It was nearly dawn now, the first fingers of light tapping at the sky, and we needed to find a place to rest. Fade didn’t like going too far from the river, so I scanned in both directions. I had the best eyesight in the dark, which balanced against the fact that the light hurt my eyes even through the glasses we’d scavenged. Stalker had the best day vision, by far, so once we started walking during the day, he would lead and scout for danger. I didn’t know how I felt about that.

“I see something over there. Might be a building,” I said.

“Can you tell how far?” Tegan asked.

I could tell by her posture that she was ready to drop. Of us all, she was least suited for a long trek like this. She wasn’t strong; her life with the Wolves had prepared her to do one thing — and it wasn’t walk all day long.

I shrugged. “Fifteen minutes, maybe? Can you do it?”

Otherwise, we had the prospect of rolling up in our blankets on the cold grass again. I didn’t know about anyone else, but I could do with shelter, particularly if we had to stay awake through the day. Stalker and Fade nodded; they could do fifteen more minutes, no problem.

I set off in front because at this distance, nobody else could see what I saw. We’d walked half of that time before Fade said, “I see it.”

As the sky lightened, the lines of the building came clear. Built of rough, irregular stones, it was very old, maybe the oldest thing we’d come across in our trek, but it had four walls and a roof. That was good enough for me.

The door had warped away from the frame, so it stood open as if in invitation. I shivered as the wind cut through my clothing. Inside, it was a little damp, and none too clean. Relics of days past gathered dust, and cobwebs trailed in the corners. Even with the dawn coming, there was no banishing the desolation from this place.

Broken furniture lay in piles in the first room, like someone had fought — and lost — here. It wasn’t a big place, just four spaces. I recognized the kitchen from the basin and the rickety table. The chairs’ legs had rotted away, built of lesser wood, and they lay tilted on their sides. There was an indoor waste closet and a room for sleeping, I thought, based on the lumpy pallet that had sunk into its wooden shelf.