Dread Nation (Dread Nation #1)(86)

“No.”

Katherine freezes and turns to me. “You can’t—”

“No, you ain’t going,” I say. “You’re a lady, Katherine. This is too dangerous for you.” I move closer to her and whisper, “Someone has to be here for Lily, especially if Jackson sees this breach as an opportunity to come looking for her. The girl’s right next door. Please.”

“Okay, Jane. I’ll look out for Lily.”

“There’s something powerful frightening about this, Kate. I’ve seen the wall. There’s no way a shambler can get over it. If it’s been breached . . .” I trail off, the idea of all those shamblers on the prairie making their way into Summerland stunning me into silence.

There’s yelling out in the street as the sheriff continues to round up folks, and I turn toward the door. “Make sure you bar this, and don’t let anyone in. Certain death can make a man act in unusual ways, forgetting right and wrong.”

Katherine nods. “Jane, be safe.”

I grin. “Ain’t no shambler going to put me down, Kate. You should know that by now.”

She glares at me and closes the door as I leave. I pause on the porch until I hear the bar slide into place, then I jog out to join the knot of men gathering in the street. A few of the girls from the day patrol are there as well, including Ida. Her eyes go wide when she sees me.

“I thought you was dead.”

I shake my head. “Not yet.”

“How’d you end up over here in the fancy part of town?”

I just wink at her. Let her come up with a good rumor by herself.

“Do you know how the wall was breached?” I ask Ida.

She shakes her head. “No. It seems strange. It ain’t like shamblers can destroy the wall, they can’t even figure out how to get over it.”

None of the Negroes milling around have weapons, which is hardly a surprise, but if what the sheriff says is true, everyone needs to be armed. I’m about to open my mouth to say so when I remember how my concerns were addressed last time.

Mr. Gideon rides up on a fine horse, the beast dancing sideways in agitation. I move over to him, even though the last place I want to be is anywhere near the monster he rides. “Mr. Gideon.”

His expression softens as he looks down at me. “Miss McKeene.”

“How exactly did that grand wall come to be compromised?” I ask him.

The corners of his mouth turn down. “That is a question I would also like answered,” he says, his tone grim. It troubles me that the smartest man in town doesn’t have the answer to what should be a simple question. But I have more pressing issues to fret about.

“I can’t help but notice that none of the Negroes are armed,” I murmur. “It would be a terrible tactical error to go into battle against the dead without the proper weapons.”

The tinkerer quickly assesses the situation before nodding. “I’ll have a word with the sheriff.” He rides off, and Ida walks up as he leaves.

“What did you say to him?”

“That we need proper weapons.”

“That would be a nice change.” She eyes my sword enviously, and for a moment I catch a glimpse of a girl that is maybe more than she seems. But then she sees me watching her, and the glint disappears, her usual dull expression taking its place.

“Ida.”

“Hmm?”

“Would you like my sword?”

She startles. “You serious?”

“Yes.”

“But what would you use?”

“My sickles.”

“Those are weapons?” she says, looking askance at the blades tucked in the ties at my waist.

“Yes, they are. Besides, you don’t honestly think all those drovers are going to last long out there, do you? I’ll grab one of their guns when they fall.” It’s a bluff, but I got a feeling about Ida, and if I’m right then I want her feeling indebted to me in a way that assures that she won’t be likely to betray me.

I hold out the sword and she takes it reverently. “It’s beautiful.”

“I’ll get you a whetstone and oil for it if you make it through this.”

Her expression goes hard, fierce and determined. “Oh, I will.”

I smile. “Good to know.” Momma used to say there were lots of ways to survive. Don’t be afraid to pretend to be something you aren’t, Jane. Sometimes a little subterfuge and chicanery is in order and the quickest way to achieve one’s goal. It ain’t hard to imagine Ida pretending to be just another dumb colored girl in order to make it out here. Survival by any means necessary.

The sheriff rides up on his big horse. He exchanges a few words with Mr. Gideon, who gives me a nod as he rides back to the rear of the group.

“My boys are opening up the armory next to the generator shack for everyone to equip themselves. Even the colored folks,” he says, giving me a pointed look. To one of his boys the sheriff says, “No guns for the darkies. The last thing we want is one of them shooting us in the back.”

The man runs off and the sheriff turns back to the group. “You colored folks can avail yourselves of the bladed weapons. I see you even touch a rifle I’m going to have you put down.”

It’s nice to know that even Summerland’s impending doom doesn’t make the sheriff change his mind about giving Negroes a fighting chance. Still, something is better than nothing.