A History of Wild Places(56)

Calla touches my hand and I think she’s going to say that we need to go tell Levi that two men are trying to leave, or that she thinks they might already have the rot inside them. But instead she whispers, “We have to help them.”

My gaze cuts down at her, surprised.

“Colette’s baby will die if we don’t,” she adds.

My wife has always feared the woods, her eyes turning quick and white whenever she’s too near the tall slanted boundary trees. But something has changed in her—maybe it’s the discovery of the books in the garden, the disappearance of Travis and Maggie, or maybe it’s that Bee too has gone over the boundary—and now she wants to help Ash and Turk.

I look back to the men, their faces hard to distinguish in the soft light. “Bring Turk back to the border and we’ll help him.” I swallow, looking to my wife then back to the men. “You can keep going,” I say to Ash. “But you’ll never make it with Turk and that injury.”

My wife draws in her bottom lip, nervous, anxious. She knows it’s the right thing to do, but she also knows we’re putting ourselves at risk.

The two men speak again in a hush, then I see Turk nod up at Ash. In slow, labored movements, they begin walking back toward us. Their faces come into view the closer they get, and I see dirt and a few drops of blood mar the right side of Turk’s face, likely from when he fell. He looks worse off than I was expecting.

They’re only a yard away when they lurch to a stop.

Turk almost buckles forward, but Ash keeps him from dropping to his knees. Both their gazes are lifted, looking beyond Calla and me, to something behind us—my heart seizes, unsure what has stopped them dead.

I swivel around, and three men approach from up the road, from the direction of Pastoral.

Levi and Parker appear through the dark first, followed by Henry—one of the original founders, a quiet, soft-spoken man who I’ve always liked, always admired, and who I asked to forge the ring I used to propose to Calla.

“Evening,” Levi says, nodding at me and then Calla. A calm, unrushed gesture.

Parker sidles up beside me, elbowing me in the arm. “Saw them sneaking into the woods past the boundary as I was getting home.” He winks at me, self-satisfied with his diligent detective work. “Went and told Levi.”

“Gentlemen,” Levi says, looking across the perimeter at the two men. His tone is not angry or chiding—it’s easy, casual, like Ash and Turk were simply out for a stroll, and the group of us all happened to meet at the same point on the road. A happy accident. Levi rubs a hand across the back of his neck, like he is deciding his next few words. “I understand your desperation. I know this has been hard on all of us.” His eyebrows tilt inward, pained by the events of the last few days. “I wish there were something more we could do, but is risking your own lives, risking all of ours, worth it?”

Levi stands dangerously close to the border, the toes of his boots just barely crossing the shadow cast down by the hemlock tree, close enough he could reach out and grab Ash by the collar and drag him across.

“My child will die if we do nothing,” Ash says with such grit in his throat it sounds like a growl.

“We all might die if you venture into those woods and bring the pox back with you.”

“This shouldn’t be who we are,” Ash counters, “allowing a child to die because we’re afraid, because of our cowardice.”

Levi blows out a tired breath—he looks more exhausted than usual, eyelids sloped downward, mouth punctuated by tiny lines. “It’s not cowardice,” he replies gently, and he takes a reflexive step across the boundary then catches himself, his gaze flicking to his feet. But he doesn’t shuffle back across the line made by the oak tree’s shadow. He stays only a few feet from Ash and Turk, as if to make a point, to prove that he’s not afraid—he will trek into the dark to bring them back if he has to, he will risk catching the pox, just so they will see how far he’s willing to go. “It’s sacrifice. It’s devotion—devotion for this place where we’ve carved out a life. Devotion to one another. I’ve devoted myself to you,” Levi says, nodding at Ash, looking him squarely in the eyes. “I’ve devoted myself to every one of you.” He keeps his eyes planted on Ash. “And part of this devotion is also forgiveness. You have risked yourselves by trying to leave, and I understand why you’ve done it, I do.” His tone has dropped now, and it wavers slightly, like there is emotion wanting to break at the back of his throat.

Calla reaches out and takes hold of my hand, a tremble in her skin—she’s frightened—and I squeeze it back. Touching her like this causes all the space that has lived between us these last few days to sink away, and I feel regret for the thoughts I’ve had: of leaving, of escaping just like Ash and Turk, going down the road and out into the world—the ease with which I considered leaving her behind.

“Come back across the border,” Levi urges, reaching out a hand to the two men. “Before it’s too late.”

Turk looks up at Ash, waiting for him to speak.

“We all know Turk won’t make it more than a mile with that injury,” Levi adds. “You’ve only been in the woods a short time; you might not yet be infected. We’ve burned the sage into the trees, we’ve pushed it farther back. But if you go down the road, you’ll surely be exposed.”