TWENTY-FOUR

The next morning Rachel put an “X” through the date on the calendar hanging on the kitchen wall. Forty-seven days post-firestorm, but that didn’t account for her queasy feeling. Today was the anniversary of Adam’s diagnosis. She reached for her necklace, but it wasn’t there. Some families celebrated the diagnosis date, but they’d chosen to look ahead, look toward the five-year anniversary of chemo completion instead, towards Adam being pronounced cured. “The date,” she told herself, “has no power. It’s a normal day.”

She adjusted the teakettle hanging over the fire. The soldiers were staying for breakfast, but she’d had to offer. After she said it was too soon for her to leave the homestead, the men, minus Consularis Sharma, had climbed up on her roof and rigged a pulley system to bring down the tree that had fallen across the roof during the storm. The offer of help was unexpected and she’d agreed. The least she could do was cook them something to eat before they left. So, there she was in the kitchen using up precious resources to make bannock bread for seven people. Flour, only one more bag in the pantry, baking powder, getting low, mix together and make a hole for the water, powdered eggs, and then add in the raisins and coconut. The bag of shredded coconut had been a bonus find in the McHenry’s abandoned house a week ago. Rachel poured the batter into the cooking pan and then put it over the coals of the fireplace.

Sharma’s face popped into view as he leaned into the fireplace from the other side. “I wish you would reconsider, Mrs. Deneuve. I feel like I’m abandoning your family.”

Rachel nodded. “Thank you for your concern, Consularis Sharma. You’ve given me a lot to think about, but I’d want to pack up before we left.”

She pulled off the kitchen mitts, self-conscious about being studied from the other room.

“There will be another storm with a larger tree falling on your house. Or perhaps the bull moose’s mate will come looking for him while you are deciding.”

Rachel shuddered at the thought of another mutant moose. To cover her reaction she turned away and reached for the French press and the bag sitting on the counter. She smelled the coffee grounds, rich and pungent. A treat. Rachel filled a teakettle and hung it over the fire before pushing through the swinging door into the dining room.

The soldiers had already finished the can of peaches and the small fried potatoes from the garden that she’d set out before starting the bread. Tamaki was nowhere to be seen and Adam was outside bringing in water from the creek.

“Thank you for helping us with the moose and with the tree, but we don’t need to rush into a decision. I have a …” she stopped herself from saying “an SUV.” Would they steal it if they knew? “… legs and can go north to New Babylon before the weather turns.” Rachel went back into the kitchen and returned with the French press and five matching mugs. “We’re managing without electricity. I even have coffee to offer before you leave.”

Rachel set the tray on the table and was straightening when she felt the room change. Something was wrong. Sweat broke out under her armpits. She swallowed and tried to think of something to say, something to chatter about, to restore the idea that she was just a hostess and everything was fine. All four soldiers stared at the coffee. Rachel looked at it too, regular brown grounds inside a glass container, the plunger at the top, until the teakettle’s whistle broke the silence.

“Coffee?” the archer asked her, too softly. “Don’t tell me you grow that in your garden as well? You must have quite a supply up here.”

Rachel nodded, forcing herself to move to the fireplace, prepare the coffee. Why had she tried to show off?

“Yup. Got to have coffee. Save it for special occasions. Like this one.” She tried to laugh, but her mouth wouldn’t work.

“Rachel,” said Captain Lewis.

Startled by the use of her first name, she looked into his blue eyes.

“Someone stole our rations on the way here. That’s punishable by death.”

“I don’t—” Her hands shook as she poured. Water swirled. “I haven’t left this homestead since we came out here.”

She cleared the table and in the privacy of her kitchen leaned against the cabinet. Adam walked in from the other side carrying the water.

“What’s the matter, Mom?”

Rachel covered her mouth with her hand. “Nothing.” She didn’t want to worry him. “I just want them out of here.”

“Why don’t you tell them to go?”

Rachel nodded. Took a deep breath and pushed away from the counter, the same motion her son had used last evening. In the dining room she pushed the plunger on the press and poured coffee into the cups. “I guess you’ll be anxious to go while the weather holds.” Gripping her own mug, Rachel walked around the men and opened the front door.

“One last thing, Ma’am.” The black foot soldier, who hadn’t said one word to her during the past twelve hours, spoke up. “We gotta take care of that moose.”

“Oh. Well, let’s go.” Rachel used her arm to usher them forward, out of her house.

Storm damage was everywhere. Leaves had been whipped off the Empress Paulownia tree, branches were down, and the garden to the right of the porch looked like a giant had stepped in it. Puddles were everywhere in the overly saturated woods. Worse, in the short hours since yesterday, DPF had popped up from the ground. Each stem was about six inches, the head a slimy brown, the body bright orange. They thrived in this new climate of heavy storms and no clean sunlight. Tilting her head, Rachel thought she saw Tamaki in the trees and gave a wave. Probably already using her stick to dig up the fungi and expose the white bulbs that webbed unseen below the dirt.

The soldiers were halfway down the path to the clearing when Rachel turned back around. Adam came out of the house behind her and Tamaki emerged from the forest line, leaned her stick against the fence.

“Is it bad this morning?” Rachel asked.

Tamaki nodded. “Dog-penis, poison ivy, and those new vines that strangle other plants are thriving. The storms make them stronger.”

“I guess because of all the moisture.”

Tamaki gave a noncommittal shrug. “Maybe because the water falls from ley lines.”

Scott must have told Tamaki about his theory. Rachel looked up. “There are ley lines in the sky too?”

“No, I mean, I don’t know. Guess there could be. I meant it’s like the water cycle.” Tamaki rotated her finger. “The energy is inside the water droplets that evaporate into the clouds and then the storm spreads it around. A higher concentration of energy creates mutations.”

“Right.” Uninterested in speculating about the theory of supernatural energy, Rachel gestured toward the ruined garden. “More practical question, can we salvage anything from there?”

Squinting at the sky, Tamaki nodded. “If we could get a break from the storms.”

“Mom,” Adam interrupted. “What are those guys doing?”

“Let’s go see.”

The three walked down the pathway, splashing through the mud, smelling smoke just before they reached the clearing. A soldier held a branch with a struggling flame, the damp wood refusing to cooperate.

Space had been cleared around the carcass. Captain Lewis stood to the side, Consularis Sharma near the forest as though ready to go.

Rachel glanced at Tamaki to see her reaction to the mutant moose. The woman’s eyes searched the two heads, the one crooked horn, and the shaggy coat peeling away from the skin. “It’s not dead.”

As if in answer, the front leg twitched. A wave of horror swept through Rachel. The moose was terrifying, but no animal should suffer.

“It will be.” Consularis Sharma raised his hand and then dropped it as a signal. The soldier with the lit branch leaned forward; the moose burst into flame. Thick, greasy smoke rose from the carcass, hanging above it. The overwhelming smell made Rachel’s eyes water—like hydrogen sulfide gas from the paper mills where she’d grown up in Pennsylvania—not a byproduct from a living thing.

“My blueberry bucket.” Adam darted forward toward the bush where he’d been yesterday.

“Adam, no!” Rachel turned around a second too late.

Captain Lewis lunged toward the boy, grabbing his arm, and pulling him back toward the others, but as he did the cloud of smoke rose into the air. Adam pulled forward, only his arm trailing behind so that it passed through the noxious smoke. Captain Lewis took the brunt of the smoke across his face. Seconds later the two joined the others on the perimeter. The captain grimaced and exhaled. He rubbed his hand across his face the way one does when they’ve walked through a spider web.

Rachel grabbed Adam, “Are you okay? Why did you do that?!”

Adam jerked away and ran up the path toward home.

Rachel groaned and pulled her hand through her hair.

Consularis Sharma said, “Last chance to protect your family, Mrs. Denueve.”

“We’re fine. I—”

A familiar voice called out from the east, “Ladies. What the hell smells so bad? Must have been Adam’s turn to cook.”

Rachel froze. Scott. Beside her Tamaki made a moue of distress, her dark eyes flicking from the men to the forest.

Consularis Sharma looked to the women and used his prosthetic arm to place a manufactured finger over his mouth in a signal to silence. The soldiers stood at attention, waiting, all listening to Scott’s monologue.

“Your grocery man has arrived and I think you’ll be pretty happy, although the road has gotten even worse and this storm made some nasty mudslides. I brought you some more coffee and I even—” Scott stopped short when he entered the clearing. He wore his typical uniform of shirt and long shorts, black lace-up boots. Over his shoulder was a bag. On his face was realization.

Immediately Scott turned to run, but the two foot soldiers lunged toward the smaller man and tackled him only a few steps outside the circle of the clearing. A rough wrestling match ensued with Scott scrambling to escape. The black man, the one who’d called Rachel “Ma’am,” punched Scott in the face, again and again until the ranger stopped struggling. The New Babylon soldier pulled Scott up by his wrists, nose broken, blood streaming down, the position making him a human punching bag. The other soldier hit Scott in the kidneys with a right and then a left before straightening his own uniform.

Rachel cried out, in shock. The attack had happened so fast. “What are you doing? Let go of him!” She ran forward and shoved the soldier holding Scott. He staggered a bit, but didn’t let go. A fist slammed into her solar plexus. She doubled over, and couldn’t breathe. Her ribs wouldn’t expand and her mouth gaped. Breath rushed in with a wave of pain and nausea. Never in her life had she been punched by someone who meant it. She straightened up, both hands clutching her middle just as the same soldier punched her again in the back.

Rachel cried out as she fell to the ground. Stars filled her tear-filled vision.

“That’s enough. I think Mrs. Deneuve has learned her place.” Consularis Sharma stepped closer. “Open the bag, please.”

“Captain Lewis?” Rachel pleaded with the archer, looking up at him from the ground, but his blue eyes were only on his consularis.

Tamaki rushed Consularis Sharma, her head down, arms wrapping around his waist.

He pulled her arms apart and knocked her to the ground. He put his boot on her back and pressed down, digging the heel into the small of Tamaki’s back. When he removed his boot, a mudprint remained as if he’d marked her as property.

The Hispanic foot soldier upended Scott’s knapsack. Small plums rolled out, a brown banana, a bag of squished bread, and, last, falling in slow-motion, a bag of coffee grounds. The golden logo of a nautilus shell on the dark blue bag was unmistakable.

“Execute the thief.”

“Stop it,” Rachel moaned, unable to stand up, the pain making her dry heave. “Leave him alone. He’s a park ranger.”

The consularis ignored her, stepping forward to confront his prisoner. “You’ve been found guilty of theft by officers of New Babylon.”

Scott struggled, trying to use his body to twist out of the soldier’s grip.

Tamaki crawled across the clearing to cling to Scott, insinuating her body as a shield.

Rachel got one knee up and used it to push herself to a standing position in front of Captain Lewis, grabbed onto his arm. “Take the food back, we don’t want it. Just take it back.”

Captain Lewis looked down at her, his jaw clenched. He shook his arm away from her grasp.

“Come now, pull the girl away and let’s be done with it.” Sharma sounded impatient, as if Scott’s death would be inconsequential to his day. This was the true Sharma, a monster, not the honorable soldier he’d portrayed.

“She won’t let go, sir.” The first soldier had his hands full with Tamaki clawing at his face. At that moment Scott ripped free from the distracted man. A shout of encouragement rose in Rachel’s throat, but Captain Lewis had his bow up.

The arrow flew. Hit its mark.

Scott fell, his body smashing into the muddy ground.

“He was a thief, my dear hysterical ladies,” the consularis finally looked at Rachel as the first soldier, embarrassed, shoved Tamaki against a tree. “Hang the body.”

Rachel couldn’t do anything as Scott, bleeding, was forced into a noose. The rope, same one used to pull the tree from her roof, stretched over the broad limb of an oak tree, one foot soldier holding the rope taut and the other rolling a log into the clearing, shoving Scott onto the makeshift stool and holding him in place. Scott wouldn’t, or couldn’t, stand on his own.

“Stand up, criminal, or we’ll beat you until you do.” The soldiers grinned at each other.

Beat you until you can stand? That’s the circular logic of the Salem witch trials. Rachel jumped to her feet, frantic plans swirling through her mind. I’ll leap on Sharma, and give Scott time to get away. I’ll shove the men together and Tamaki will free Scott. I’ll start screaming and distract everyone. Reaching for a miracle, she even wished the stupid moose would come back to life.

Captain Lewis’s hands seized on her upper arms, holding her.

The consularis turned calm eyes on Rachel as if he could hear her thoughts.

Then, Scott was on the log, noose around his neck, rope tight. He looked to Tamaki. She reached out a hand as if she could touch him from across the clearing. The soldier kicked the log away. Into the silence Scott fell, a crack like a breaking branch, but it wasn’t the branch. Scott’s body swayed back and forth.

Captain Lewis’s hand fell away and Rachel sank to the ground.

Tamaki crawled forward and grabbed onto Scott’s leg, the white flesh over his ankle socks. “You’re a murderer,” she cried at Consularis Sharma. “I hope you rot in hell.”

“Leave his body there,” said the consularis. “A warning.”

Rachel felt cold, and the edges of her vision became foggy.

“I hope this was not a friend of yours, Mrs. Deneuve? That would certainly change things. Right now you are making a poor decision to stay in wild lands, but should I believe that you were accepting stolen goods….”

Numbly Rachel stared at the ground. She couldn’t make her teeth stop chattering. Consularis Sharma bent forward, his face filling her vision, the scent of incense emanating from the man.

“Say that he was not a friend.”

They were only words. Scott was already dead. Hate flashed inside of Rachel. Scott was dead over coffee beans that he’d been bringing to her and this man, this monster, wanted her to betray that? Never. I will never betray my family.

Rachel lifted her gaze to Sharma’s. An exultant smile spread across his face. His eyes glowed with ferocious madness. He’s enjoying this. She knew this in her innermost being to be a true fact. And though it meant death, being strung up beside Scott, she would not betray him.

She snarled, “I won’t.” The words were no louder than a whisper, but the silence of the clearing was complete. Her statement dropped like rocks into a well. “Are you going to hit me again?”

The archer cleared his throat. “Consularis? The time?”

She didn’t know if he interrupted at that moment to save her life. She didn’t care. She didn’t owe anything to Scott’s murderer.

Thunder boomed from the sky. A sudden wind moved the clouds in a strange swirling pattern.

“Of course, Captain Lewis.” The consularis pulled a pocketwatch from inside his tailcoat. The watch was golden, the size of his hand, with elaborate gears that matched his prosthetic arm. “Time to go, gentlemen. We don’t want to be late for pick-up.”

The thunder rumbled again, as if in answer to his statement.

Sharma snapped the cover closed. “Mrs. Denueve, I’m sure we will meet again. If you live that long.” He looked up at the sky with that same mysterious half-smile he’d made when first arriving behind the two-headed moose. They left the clearing, the wolves trotting beside the archer.

The shaking wouldn’t stop, her whole body vibrating, teeth chattering. Scott, their friend, had been killed right outside their house, their safe place. Adam. At least he hadn’t seen.

“We have to cut him down, Tamaki.” Rachel shook the heartbroken girl. “Adam can’t see this. At least we can bury … it.” She couldn’t call that thing Scott. She wouldn’t. “Come on, I need help getting the ladder.”

Tamaki unfurled. Tears marked her face, her chin quivered, but underneath was determination as she faced the body hanging from the tree. Approaching with solemn grace, Tamaki touched Scott’s leg and then ran her delicate fingers down his heavy boots, untying the black laces and pulling off the boots and socks. Then she placed her hands together, spoke another language, and bowed to Scott’s body as she walked around it in a circle. She chanted words full of vowels, lilting, almost singsongy. After three completions, Tamaki stopped and closed her eyes. One more inhale–exhale cycle and then Tamaki bowed again.

Tingles ran up and down Rachel’s arms and legs. Sadness nestled deep in her heart. She stepped forward and touched Scott’s leg. “I’m so sorry, Scott. I’m sorry that I couldn’t protect you. I’m sorry that you were bringing supplies for us. You were my inspiration. You will be missed, my friend. And I wish I could say it better, but I am so grateful to you and this was so wrong. So unfair.”

When Tamaki laid her head on Rachel’s shoulder, Rachel could feel her shaking and worried that the young woman was going into shock. She rubbed Tamaki’s arms to create warmth, tried to keep her talking. “What was that thing you were saying earlier?”

Tamaki gave a great shudder and stepped back from Rachel. She took deep breaths before she was able to talk. “My gran’s people believe that the soul and the animating spirit are two different things. Scott wasn’t ready to die so I said a prayer, told his soul I wanted it to stay. I took off his shoes so that his energy might be free. I didn’t see any smoke when he died. I think his spirit is still here.”

Rachel nodded her head. “It was beautiful. He would have … he would have liked it.”

Tamaki pressed her lips together and nodded. “I never told him….”

“He knew,” Rachel said, leading Tamaki to the path. “Come on, let’s go back to the house. We need to find Adam.”