Dawn had tried to run away twice and had generally been difficult to manage. At first, Mae had thought she was mentally handicapped, but it was becoming clear that Dawn simply wanted a return to her old life.
She was too shaped and beaten down by her world to embrace what Mae was offering, and running away from her masters with a woman went against every sense of natural order Dawn knew. Mae would have gladly left her behind, if not for the fact that her capture would prove too dangerous for the rest of them.
Juggling Ava with one arm, Mae pulled out her gun and pointed it at Dawn. “Move,” Mae repeated. For a moment, it seemed the other woman wouldn’t respond to that either, but there was familiarity in force apparently, and Dawn finally began a half-hearted jog. Their group made it to the tree line as the plane came into sight. Mae was relieved to see it wasn’t a military craft and didn’t circle back after passing overhead. They hadn’t been discovered.
She gently set Ava down, then realized the gun was still out.
Feeling self-conscious under the little girl’s gaze, Mae put the gun back in her belt. “I wouldn’t have hurt her,” she said. “I wouldn’t hurt any of you. But other people might hurt us if we’re discovered. Do you understand?”
The little girl nodded, but whether it was from a need to please, Mae couldn’t say. Ava scurried off to join her friends, and Mae watched with a pang. This wasn’t exactly how she’d envisioned their reunion, but she had to remind herself that Ava knew of no connection between them. They were strangers, strangers who’d been raised in very different environments. Mae had to comfort herself with the knowledge that all would change once they were safely in the RUNA.
“We might as well rest and take your bathroom break here,” Mae told her charges. “But it won’t be long, so make the most of it.” That last part was met with glum faces. They were tired of this march too, and she could hardly blame them.
“When can we eat?” asked one. Several others nodded with interest.
“Soon,” Mae said automatically.
Food had been a constant struggle on this trip, one she hadn’t foreseen. They’d set off into the wilderness with no supplies, the effects of which were becoming greater and greater each day. It was still high summer, and this part of the country was in a drought, which had proved a blessing in some ways. They were spared the effects of rain, and evenings were warm enough that they didn’t require blankets (though those might have helped keep mosquitos away). The lack of rain meant natural sources of water were running scarce, and it had been a stroke of luck when they’d found a nearly dry creek yesterday to refill their water jugs. The jugs were glass, awkward to carry, but capable of withstanding the temperatures needed to boil the creek water. That process had taken a while, but it and a strict water schedule (that the girls still complained about) had gotten them by.
They’d need more water by tomorrow, and food was an entirely different matter. The drought wasn’t supporting much in the way of plant-based food sources, and what little there was had been picked over by birds and animals. Drawing on the survival courses she’d taken, Mae had shot and cooked a rabbit yesterday, which hadn’t gone far between Dawn and the girls but had at least given them some protein.
Mae had abstained, as she had from most of the food sources they’d scavenged. Praetorian metabolisms craved constant nourishment, but they could withstand deprivation if needed. For a while.
As the girls rested, Mae made a desperate decision. She pulled
Cecile and Monica aside, telling Monica to keep watch on the others and come find Mae if there was trouble. Mae took Cecile with her farther into the woods, until the others were well out of sight. A large stone made a makeshift chair, and Mae settled down on it, taking out the amber knife.
“I’m not exactly sure what’ll happen to me,” she told the girl. “I think I’ll go into a trance and just sit and stare. I don’t know how long it’ll last. Don’t bother me or talk to me. Stay here and keep watch. The only circumstances under which you should try to get my attention are if Monica comes and there’s some kind of problem—a real problem. If the others are bored or hungry or whatever, then do what you can to get them through. Only bother me if there’s actual danger. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” said Cecile solemnly. What Mae didn’t tell her was that she didn’t know if someone could wake her out of a trance, but hopefully, they wouldn’t have to cross that bridge.
Wasting no time, Mae slashed the blade across her palm. Cecile gasped and then faded away. The forest shimmered like the scene might change, and then it stabilized and remained as it was. No—not exactly as it was. Everything was more intense—the colors, sounds, smells. It was like Mae was now in a more idealized version of the woods.
No, said that majestic voice she’d come to know. It’s just that when you open yourself up like this, you’re more in tune with the natural world.
I need to be in tune with it now so I can find food and figure out how far we are to the border. Can you help me?
Spread your wings and see for yourself, said the goddess.
Mae felt herself rise in the air and looked down to see feathered wings, like a falcon’s or hawk’s, where her arms had been. Higher and higher she went, her vision becoming sharper and clearer. Soon, the landscape spread out before her like the map she’d left behind, and she tried to superimpose what she saw now over the memories in her mind.
There, to the west, was the ribbon of the Mississippi. They were paralleling it as she’d hoped. In fact, if her knowledge of other natural features was correct, following the constellation had put them on the trajectory she’d hoped for, toward a northern land bound border.
Guessing the distance was trickier. On her own, Mae could’ve done it in a day. With the girls? It would take at least two, maybe three.
We’re going to need food before then, Mae thought. She descended from that lofty height, back toward her rock in the forest. Before reaching it, though, the vision slowed, showing her a change in the tree type a few miles ahead. There, in what appeared to be a dormant orchard, was a small shack.
So we’re thieves now? she wondered.
I told you I would provide you with the means to make this journey. You must make the most of them, the voice told her.
She returned to the rock, and the world’s brilliance dimmed back to reality and a nervous looking Cecile who shot to her feet when Mae blinked.
“You’re back!” exclaimed the girl. “I mean, you weren’t gone, but I thought—”
“I know,” said Mae, getting gingerly to her feet. The sun told her a little over an hour had passed. At least the girls couldn’t complain about getting a long enough break. “And I’m sorry if I—”
She cut herself off and stared in amazement at the hand she’d sliced. The wound hadn’t healed. In fact, it didn’t even have the scabbed over look from last time. The cut had congealed and wasn’t openly bleeding but still looked fresh and wet, as though it had indeed happened that day. Mae had no explanations nor time to find one and instead hastily wrapped it in a piece of cloth torn from her shirt.
She gathered up the girls, pleased to see there’d been no crisis in her absence. They continued on through the woods, finding a relatively cleared trail that confirmed the habitation shown to her in the vision. A little less than a mile from where she expected the house to be, she called another halt, something none of the girls had a problem with.
Mae pulled aside her three leaders: Monica, Cecile, and a girl who’d made her Gemman name Clara.
“I’m going to get us some food,” she told them. “Stay here, and do the usual. Keep them in line. Keep an eye on that water. I’m taking one of the empty jugs in the hopes of getting a refill, but there are no guarantees, and we’re running low.”
“Shouldn’t one of us come with you?” asked Cecile.
Mae grimaced. “Not for this. I’m hoping it’ll go smoothly, but if not, I don’t want any of you nearby.” Seeing the fear that struck in them, she attempted a lighter tone. “But everything’ll be fine, and we’ll be eating tonight.”
She left them behind and set off down the trail, which soon led to the old orchard and shack from her vision. Mae’s secret, improbable hope was that someone had left a feast behind and would be gone for days, relieving her of the guilt of taking their food. In the event of face to face confrontation, she was hoping for a peaceful negotiation. She’d found some Arcadian currency in the van, and although it wasn’t much, surely it was enough to buy scant rations.
As she approached the house, she found an older man chopping wood. His back was to her, but there was no way she could sneak into the house unseen. Negotiation it was.
“Excuse me,” she called.
He spun around with impressive speed, axe poised menacingly as he regarded her with wild eyes. Mae was a bit more startled than she’d expected. His face was almost completely covered in Cain acne, and yellow and brown teeth only added to the monstrous appearance. Not monstrous, she told herself. Just a man who hasn’t had access to adequate medical care.
“I’m sorry to bother you,” she said, “but I was hoping to buy some of your food. I have money.” She held out the currency and waited.
When he didn’t speak or move right away, she wondered if he could understand her. There were slight accent differences between Gemman and Arcadian English, and it was possible they were more pronounced away from the country’s urban centers.
Then, with a roar, the old man came charging at her with the axe.
Mae easily sidestepped him and continued dodging his subsequent attacks. Finally, frustrated, she put distance between them and pulled out her gun.
“Enough,” she said. “Don’t move. I don’t want to hurt you.”
The man halted his attack.
“Drop the axe and walk inside the house. Slowly.”
Again, there was hesitation, but he complied, so at least communication was working. “I have no intention of harming you,” she reiterated. “I’m going to pick out some food, and then I’ll leave money behind for you.”
The shack consisted of only one room, containing a cold fireplace, straw pallet, and table. Dried herbs hung from the ceiling, but aside from those and the picked over bones of some small animal on the table, she saw no other signs of supplies.
“Where’s your food?” she asked.
By way of response, the man grabbed a knife from the table and charged her again. The close quarters prevented her from completely dodging the attack, and they wrestled briefly. Shooting him would’ve been simple, but Mae didn’t want to kill him if she didn’t have to. He didn’t seem like the kind of person with much outside contact who was likely to report on seeing her, and even if he did, a lone woman wouldn’t raise the red flags that one with a host of girls in tow would.
She was easily stronger than him, but the flailing of his wild attack made it hard to immediately disengage from him. At last, she threw him off her, toward the far side of the room. Her throw wasn’t that hard, but he landed wrong, his foot slipping on a wet spot on the floor. Fumbling, he tried to get his balance but instead fell against the fireplace—the back of his head hitting a jagged stone in its border with a sickening crack.
“No!” yelled Mae, running over to the hearth. Blank, staring eyes met her from that hideous face, and she swore in Finnish. For someone who’d wanted to achieve this rescue with as little death as possible, she seemed to be causing it everywhere. After ascertaining there really was no hope of resuscitation, she left him there for the time being and performed a more thorough search of the premises. Her examination concluded two things: he lived alone, and there was no extra food.
What had he done? Had he just hunted as-needed? Had he been about to journey to civilization and obtain some? Or was there a cache hidden away somewhere? He had no answers to give, and Mae tried to work off her frustration by digging a shallow grave for him with a shovel she’d found. It wasn’t what he deserved, but it was all she could offer for what had fallen out between them. The one bright spot on the property was an active well, and Mae wanted to bring the girls here to resupply and sterilize new water. That would require getting him out of sight.
The crude shovel wasn’t that efficient, and by the time she’d buried the man, she was covered in sweat, and her cut had opened and begun bleeding. She’d have to use the thin blanket she’d seen on the pallet as a bandage and then do a thorough washing. Before heading off to retrieve the girls, she made one more sweep of the property, just in case she’d missed something.
She hadn’t, and that realization made her anger grow. She was tired and hungry, weighed down by an impossible task that she’d been promised divine help on—and hadn’t received.
“You promised me food!” she yelled to the dormant orchard.
“Where is it? How am I supposed to feed them? How are we supposed to make it to the border without food?”
No answer came, but of course it wouldn’t, she thought furiously.
Gods didn’t like to talk directly to mortals. They did it in dreams and other inconvenient ways—like blood-induced trances. Mae stared at her bleeding hand, but apparently it had already served its purpose. Fully aware she was acting out of frustration, Mae cut her other palm with the amber knife and demanded, “Here’s what you wanted, right? You said I had to give something to get something. Where are my answers? Where’s the help you promised?”
No answers came. No vision came either. This is what it comes to, she thought. This is why gods are no good for humans. They only let us down. Justin was right about everything. I shouldn’t have gotten involved.