The Freedom Race, page 31
And now she was faced with a dilemma. She had a horse, which meant she could go back, find Lucky. She could help him mount the stallion and the three could journey to Dimmers together.
She leaned forward onto the horse’s neck and rested her head there, thinking. She heard the horse snort, heard—or thought she did—his great heart beating: ba-BOOM, ba-BOOM, ba-BOOM! Once again, she needed to admit the truth to herself.
A few minutes after she’d left Lucky, she’d heard a burst of gunfire over the pelting rain. She’d taken off running, headed in the wrong direction because, in her panic, she’d forgotten to look at the compass. All this time, she’d been telling herself maybe it wasn’t gunfire, maybe it was something else. She’d been lying. If she turned back now, she would find another corpse under the live oak. Maybe find a mischief of Bounty Boys as well. No. Turning back wasn’t an option.
She pressed her heels into the stallion’s flanks and said, “Giddyup, boy!” He began walking. They had a river to cross. Tiro waited for her on the other side. At least she didn’t have to cross it alone.
* * *
Dusk was almost over before she found a place to cross. At a section of the river where the bank didn’t seem too steep, she eased the reluctant horse down toward the water. The mud was deep. She spoke to him reassuringly, gave him a name. “C’mon, Black Majestic,” she coaxed. She’d named him that because he was the closest thing she’d ever seen to royalty—or to what she pictured royalty looking like anyway. As they descended the bank, she didn’t let him know how terrified she was. Horses—stallions especially—were high-strung. They could sense when riders were scared. She gripped his body with her thighs and knees, pressed her heels down in the stirrups like Lotter had taught her, and leaned way back in the saddle so she didn’t topple over his head during the treacherous descent. No way to get a clear view of what awaited them on the other side of the river—too dark. Maybe over there the bank was too steep to ascend? No point worrying about that when the swift water would likely push them downriver anyway. She prayed that the stallion’s weight and strength would prevent them from veering too far off course.
Lucky had instructed her to tie off the hope-rope and use it to haul herself back to safety, if necessary. But she reasoned they could get tangled up in it. For the umpteenth time, she wished Lucky hadn’t been so scared of the water. If he hadn’t been, he would have crossed with her hours before. She said a quick prayer for him and for herself. The river was moving fast and this was the narrowest place she could find to cross before night overtook them completely. She forged ahead.
It took ages to persuade the stallion to enter the water. Sensibly, he balked at first. She urged him on: “C’mon, boy! It’s not far. You can do this!” Finally, with a shake of his head (as if he knew how dumb this idea was) he ventured in. It was already too dark to see much of anything.
After only a few tentative steps, the riverbed fell away. They plunged into the frigid water! As Ji-ji hung on for dear life, the stallion thrashed back up to the surface. Once there, he raised his head so his nostrils weren’t submerged. Terrified that the extra weight was too much for him, Ji-ji leapt off into the water, keeping a tight hold on the saddle and reins. Dismounting was a lousy idea. The horse was even more spooked without her on his back. Sputtering and shivering, she heaved herself back up onto the saddle and urged him to keep going.
The deeper they got, the more the current picked up. She stopped urging the horse on and let him take the lead. He seemed calmer after she did that. She rested her head on his withers and spoke to him the way Afarra would have. It seemed to help until something barreled toward them. A small tree! It struck the horse’s rump and he spun around in terror. She managed to turn him toward the far bank again but he was tiring. Abruptly, he stopped paddling and began to sink. She kicked hard with her heels. “No, boy! NO! Don’t give up now! We’re almost there!”
Black Majestic mined strength from somewhere and started swimming again more frantically than before. They were only feet from safety! They were going to make it!
When the stallion’s hooves touched the bottom again, Ji-ji yelped with joy.
She’d rejoiced too soon. Just as it was on the other side, the riverbed was steep and uneven. The horse lost his balance and stumbled back into the murky water, landing on top of her! In her distress, pinned as she was beneath his great weight, she sucked in the river water and began to choke. The stallion rolled off her and pitched away into the gloom, flailing and kicking as he frantically sought the surface. His hooves missed her head by a hair.
Swallowing all that water punched the breath from her lungs. She must get to the surface! Blow out some air! Follow the bubbles! It didn’t help. She had a few seconds of air left!
Something caught her eye. A light—very faint. Desperately, she clawed her way up toward it.
She surfaced, gasping. The clouds must have parted in the nick of time. The moon’s reflection had been just enough to save her. She swam to shallower water and peered through the gloom. She spotted his frantic silhouette on the moonlit water! He was downriver. She scrambled out of the water and ran along the bank shouting his name. “Black Majestic! Over here!” He didn’t hear her. He was going to drown!
She hesitated for a moment, then plunged back into the water. With the aid of the current, she swam toward the stallion. It was one of the most reckless things she’d ever done. But she’d left Lucky and Mam. She refused to leave this innocent, petrified animal.
At last, she caught up with him. She grabbed hold of his bit and jerked his head back toward her with as much authority as she could muster. “This way!” She only half expected him to follow her, but as soon as he heard her voice he calmed down. “Come on, boy … that’s it. Swim! That’s it! This way!”
Not long afterward, she led the exhausted stallion up the bank. At the top, he collapsed onto his side, almost squashing her. She only laughed. They’d made it. They’d crossed the river together. She hadn’t abandoned him.
She laid her head on the stallion’s neck, and wept with grief and gratitude.
* * *
The sodden saddle squeaked and squelched under her weight. It would take hours for it to dry out completely. It was a mild night but she was soaked and shivering. Thankfully, she hadn’t lost the compass in the river, and she’d thought to tie Lucky’s duffel bag to the saddle, so she had that too. Uncle Dreg’s map, which had been in her pocket, was soaked, but he must’ve used permanent ink, so it was still okay, as long as the paper didn’t disintegrate. For the life of her, she couldn’t find Lucky’s map. Must’ve lost it in the river. Lucky’s caller was okay, however—snug and dry inside Lucky’s bag. She took it out and turned it on. A little red light shone in the dark … flickered … turned to amber.… Amber! Not green, but maybe she could still get through?
She entered Lucky’s number: 9-0-2. “Man Cryday? It’s me. Ji-ji … Jellybean. Silapu’s daughter.… I’m Uncle Dreg’s—” She hesitated. “—friend,” she added. Static. She tried again. Useless!
A half mile farther on she tried once more and got a similar result, though she thought she heard voices murmuring on the other end before she realized it was only the wind whistling through the trees. She looked up and saw the swaying branches. “A murmuration of trees,” she whispered.
Years after she’d discovered the word in Doc Riff’s book, she’d looked up murmuration and found out that it referred not only to the group name for starlings but also to their synchronized movements, the breathtaking aerial ballet she’d observed while laboring in the fields. Numerous bird species had been driven to extinction, but Uncle Dreg said some species were coming back stronger than ever now that communities were less industrial and therefore less adept at poisoning themselves and others. The week after he’d told her that, she’d seen a murmuration of starlings overhead at sunset. When she’d told him about it, he’d said, “Flight is prayer, little one.” When she thought about how she’d felt when she’d seen the flock concertina in the sky above her, she knew the wizard was right. Even there on the 437th, amid so much suffering, beauty found a way in.
Ji-ji closed her eyes, listened again to the leaves, and took a deep breath. A cleansing. None of the foul odor of Petrus’ pig farm; none of the planting’s factory stench. She thought about stopping to rest but a seed on a stallion would be easy prey. Better to keep going. It could be wishful thinking, but it seemed as though Black Majestic knew this area. He’d found a trail of sorts, and they’d been walking along it with more confidence. She decided to trust him.
When she was little, her mam used to tell her stories about animal “mask wearers” who came back clothed in the spirits of dead ancestors. Could Zinc’s stallion be one of these? She decided to change his name to Oz Majestic, in honor of Uncle Dreg the Oziadhee. “Do you like your new name, Oz?” she asked. He snorted a yes, or at least she decided to believe in that translation.
A short while later, she almost missed it. Luminous letters graced a large sign ahead. At the top of the sign, above the wording, a hastily drawn skull and crossbones. Ji-ji read the warning:
VIRAL COLONY IV
Pathogens: Active
Access Restricted by order of
District Judge, the Honorable Ellis Boyle, Jr.
ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK!!!
Re-entry into the Homestead Territories is at the discretion of the Territorial Border Patrol & the HTQB.
Judge Boyle’s signature followed, accompanied by the official seal of the Homestead Territories’ Quarantine Board. At least, that’s what Ji-ji assumed, though the serpents and wings on the seal’s caduceus were so badly drawn it was hard to say for sure.
Oz Majestic refused to budge. Ji-ji suspected he’d been trained to come to a halt whenever he saw a skull and crossbones. When she urged him forward, he neighed in protest.
“It’s okay,” she told him. “Don’t be scared. Man Cryday is waiting for us. So is Tiro.”
At last, she convinced the stallion to obey. He took off at a canter, moving past the sign in a wide arc, as if the skull and crossbones were a ferocious mutant.
Soon afterward, the trail came to an abrupt end. The canopy cover was thicker here; moonlight could barely penetrate it. The inhospitable landscape reminded her of the planting’s Doom Dell: trees she couldn’t identify, a strong smell of mold. She tried the caller again. “Man Cryday, where are you?”
The ground became pitted with deep potholes and strewn with sharp rocks. It wasn’t safe to ride anymore, so she dismounted and led Oz along the trail. She heard running water. A stream—a few yards to her right, sounded like. She was tempted to stop and let Oz drink, and fill her canteen too, but decided against it. She’d noticed something strange: there was a stiff breeze but the trees emitted no sound. She stopped to examine one and caught her breath when she saw it up close in the flashlight’s glare. The leaves weren’t green, they were a deep red. She reached out and touched one. They were hard and waxy, like the leaves of a holly bush. “Ow!” It felt as though she had been stung by a bee! She shook her hand, but it did nothing to lessen the pain. She stuffed her fingers in her mouth and sucked while she examined the leaves more closely. They had tiny thorns on their edges. Oz began chomping on mushrooms clustered around the foot of the same tree. She pulled him away. For all they knew, the ’shrooms were poisonous.
They walked on to a clearing filled with moonlight. The ground had leveled off. For the first time, she heard the leaves whisper in the breeze, and then she heard a tinkling sound. Wind chimes! Someone must have hung them in the trees! “It’s a sign, Oz! We must be near Dimmers Wood!” In high spirits, she climbed back into the saddle and kicked lightly with her heels to urge the horse forward. He obeyed, his gait more relaxed than before. Oz liked this place.
Ji-ji could hardly believe her eyes when the clearing led to a wide avenue of perfectly spaced live oak trees, which had obviously been planted by someone many years before. Over time, they had joined limbs across the avenue to form a stunning arch. A large wooden sign hung from one of the trees. In white glow-in-the-dark paint, someone had written the words Dimmers Wood Straight Ahead. All the fears Ji-ji had about the name left her. This place was beautiful!
Sadly, the grand avenue of oaks didn’t last. The oaks disappeared, and the avenue shrank to a footpath. Soon Ji-ji found herself in a grove of densely clustered trees. The sound of the chimes grew louder. She looked up. Teardrop-shaped buds shimmered in the moonlight.
All of a sudden, a burning pain in her back. She tried to breathe through it. A female voice said something like, “Alice Volatpro pray us,” or was she imagining it? It was coming from Lucky’s caller! She snatched it up.
“Who is this? I need to speak to Man Cryday. This is Ji-ji. Lucky’s friend.”
The voice again: “Alice Volatpro pray us.”
What did it mean? Was someone asking this Alice person to pray for them?
Ji-ji shouted into the caller: “It’s not Alice. It’s Ji-ji … Uncle Dreg’s friend.” No response.
The sound overhead had changed. It wasn’t melodic anymore; it was harsh … jangling.… She smelled a stench she couldn’t identify. She looked up again at the droplets. What was this place?
She trained the flashlight up into the trees. The stallion shuffled backward, startled. These weren’t wind chimes. These trees were hung with what looked like glass tears! She looked more closely. The tears—yes she was sure of it now—the tears were purple. The trees gave off a sickly odor, the tinkling sound of wind chimes replaced by a discordant, nearly deafening clamor. Oz whinnied in terror. Ji-ji tried to calm him, but he spun in frenzied circles.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, a sack of meal slammed into her head! It swayed there in front of them, dangling from a vine. No. Not a sack of meal. A maggot-infested corpse!
She flung it away from them, rotting flesh sliding off bones into her hands!
Oz reared in terror. Somehow, Ji-ji managed not to be thrown. All around them more corpses dropped from the trees like ghastly blossoms. Some fell to the ground with a thud; others dangled by their necks. A lynching wood! They hadn’t entered a place of harmony at all. They’d entered a grove of slaughter!
Ji-ji screamed for Man Cryday, for Tiro, anyone! A mob of maggots spilled from the corpses’ eye sockets. As they exited their hosts, the maggots turned into flies and formed a black, undulating mass, a mad swarm of buzzing! They changed again. This time into flocks of demented birds that swirled and dipped around them. Oz reared up, then tore off through the wood, crashing into the trees’ strange fruit as he ran. Ji-ji attempted to pull on the reins, but he didn’t even seem to know she was riding him.
As suddenly as he’d taken off, the stallion slid to a halt. He reared up again and screeched in terror. She had never heard a sound like that come from a horse before. It sounded human—the sounds made by the condemned when they were pyred. It turned her blood to ice. She looked down.
The ground opened up around them! Gaping holes, filled with bones!
The stallion reared again. This time, Ji-ji couldn’t hold on. Oz tossed her into the wet earth. She landed on her back at the edge of one of the openmouthed graves as birds corkscrewed a black shroud around her body! Oz raced into the darkness. A hulking shadow took off after him. One of the Dimmer-dead. Must be.
“RUN, OZ!” Ji-ji cried.
The noise had become unbearable. A dreadful moaning joined by jarring chimes. Thousands of people shrieking in pain! Ji-ji covered her ears. Black-hole mouths sucked her down into the earth! She couldn’t see … couldn’t breathe!
The branch of a tree reached down, turned itself into a gnarled hand, and grabbed her by the shoulder. Where the tree’s hand touched her, tributaries of pain bubbled and burned all across her back! A voice invaded her head. Death is always lucky in the end, it told her. There’s no escape. No race till you dream with the dead. Lua’s words! No race till you dream …
She yearned for one thing only—suicide. She wanted to bury herself alive! Wanted to do exactly what the voice told her and dream with the dead. She had to resist! She covered her ears. “SHUT UP!” she screamed. With her last ounce of strength, she forced herself to her feet.
Almost immediately, she was knocked back to the ground. A pair of eyes shone in the dark, a wet nose snuffled near her head. Oz had returned to save her!
Then she glimpsed the black-and-white bars on the beast’s misshapen body and wondered for a split second why Oz was inside a cage. No … not the stallion. A striper!
As the vicious mutant lunged for her throat, Ji-ji screamed. Out of her mouth flew a pandemonium of maggots, a maelstrom of flies, and a vast black murder of crows.
19 THE MUTANT
She woke to the smell of herbs. The hand of the tree rested on her hand. She snatched hers away and moaned. Her back was aflame as she tumbled back into the grave.…
She woke. The hands of the tree were kneading dough. She watched them work, gnarled and beautiful. In the open doorway, flooded with sunlight, a monster. His hunched back was a rug of black-and-white stripes. The mutant. The savage striper. She tried to warn the hands, but the quiet earth was a cradle rocking her to sleep.…
She woke. The hands of the tree offered her water. Thank you, she didn’t say, because those who are buried alive have no voices. The grave was impatient; she had to go.…
She woke. The hands were connected to arms and shoulders, a neck and a face. Who are you? she didn’t say, but the face told her anyway. “Man Cryday.” You’re … female! The tree witch laughed—her falling-all-over-each-other teeth familiar. Am I dead? “Not yet.” I thought you were the hands of the tree. “And that is what I am, child. The hands who remember the trees’ sorrow.…” Another voice silhouetted in the doorway. It took her other hand. It had come to escort her from the grave. The voice belonged to Tiro Dregulahmo. She could rest peacefully now. She didn’t need another thing.
