“Edmund and Rex?” I asked.
“We’re here,” my father said.
His lined, dirty face was a welcome sight, so I hugged him too. I teetered on the verge of tears and couldn’t restrain the apology. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save everyone. I tried, but there weren’t enough soldiers and the trip was too far—”
“Shh,” he whispered into my hair, stroking my back.
Momma Oaks hugged me from the other side until I felt warm even in comparison to the hot trickle of tears on my cheeks. Rex stood back, looking beaten down by sorrow; the dead, uncomprehending look had faded, only to be replaced by pain.
“Have you any idea what’s to become of us?” Momma Oaks asked.
I shook my head. “I’m not clear on how Soldier’s Pond runs or who’s in charge. I know Morgan’s second only to the colonel when it comes to town defense. Beyond that…”
“We weren’t here long enough to find out,” Fade put in.
“You must be exhausted.”
Momma Oaks had on her “I want to cook for you and fuss a bit” face but here she was dependent on others for food and shelter. By the twist of her mouth, that reality didn’t sit well with her. I was relieved she was safe, but it couldn’t be easy going from her own tidy home and plenty of food in the cupboards to this. In my experience down below, refugees had few rights, and some enclaves, like the one where I’d grown up, would refuse to accept them altogether, due to limited resources. Things might be different here in Soldier’s Pond, but I had a feeling nobody from Salvation would relax until they heard whether they were welcome.
Knowing she wouldn’t welcome my sympathy, I just nodded. “It was a tough trip.”
“But necessary,” Rex said. “We wouldn’t be here without your efforts.”
Praise made me uncomfortable, gratitude more so. I acknowledged his words with a jerky nod. “I’m going to help Tegan.”
“You should rest,” Edmund protested, but I ignored him.
“I can pitch in too,” Fade said.
The room was a maze of prone forms, laid out with only a little space between them. These cramped quarters reminded me of the enclave, but instead of the makeshift walls built of scraps of metal and tattered curtains, there was no privacy at all. On the injured, I saw each shift of expression, every flicker of pain. It seemed wrong to efface their dignity, after all they’d suffered and lost. Tears trickled down one woman’s face and she was too weak or sad to wipe them away. A stranger did that for her, just before tending the burn on the woman’s right leg.
I drew strength from that kindness. As long as I had two hands, I could work beside my friend. Tegan had to be hurting, just as tired as I was, but she was still on her knees beside a patient, doing what she could to give the man comfort. As I drew closer, I recognized Harry Carter, the man I’d fought beside on the wall. He had a terrible gash in his shoulder and another across his back, plus countless bites. It would be a miracle if he survived; I didn’t know how he’d made the trip from Salvation.
Tegan read my look. “They put him on a litter. He was quite the hero before the town caught fire, I guess. Saved four families.”
Harry’s eyes opened, bloodshot and tormented in his dirty face. “But not my own.”
“I’m sorry,” I said softly.
He closed his eyes when Tegan went back to cleaning his wounds. When the astringent trickled into his rent flesh, it had to hurt but I saw no shift in his expression, maybe because the way he felt inside was worse. Wordless, I fell into our old rhythm, handing her things and wiping away the blood before she asked me to. There should be some words that would make things better, but I couldn’t think of any. Maybe a Breeder would have the gentleness to comfort the ravaged sadness I glimpsed in Tegan’s eyes. I worked on steadily.
It was the middle of the night when we emptied Tegan’s bag; there wasn’t enough salve or antiseptic to go around, so Tegan requested provisions from the women who had been helping us. Unlike the ones in Salvation, these females dressed in worn green trousers and they looked every bit as tough as Tully and the colonel. I suspected if not for the conditions surrounding our arrival, I might enjoy my time in Soldier’s Pond. The women debated among themselves before sending a young runner off to ask the colonel if they could tap into their own supplies.
Tully popped her head in, her hair disheveled and her face lined with weariness. “Got everything squared away?”
I had no idea why she was asking me. “Not exactly. But we’ve done what we can for now.”
“What’s the problem?”
“We don’t have enough supplies for the wounded. They sent someone to ask the colonel—”
“Ah.” She got it, I could tell.
“Is she in charge?”
“From the outside, I suppose it looks that way. She’s a bit of a benign dictator, but she’s smart as hell, and she listens to her advisors. I only wish they paid as much attention to her warnings. If so, we’d currently be operating at a higher state of readiness.”
Only a portion of her words made sense to me. “Readiness?”
“She’s been telling us for a while now that the Muties are gearing up for a major offensive—they aren’t the same mindless creatures we’ve been fighting for years. The last time I went out with her, I noticed the same thing. They set perimeters. They have patrols now. And they use scouts.” She paused, her features yielding to a worry that troubled me. “Then at Salvation we saw evidence they’ve mastered fire. What’s next, tools? Weapons?”