Dread Nation (Dread Nation #1)(93)

Katherine frowns prettily. “So, then, what was?”

“Something like the compounds that have risen from the ashes of the lost Southern states. Georgia, Alabama, Mississippi, they were all nearly destroyed by millions upon millions of shamblers, and what little pockets of humanity remained eventually pulled together under something like military law to survive. The compounds are nothing more than a reinstitution of the plantation system.”

“So we’re really just talking about prosperity built on the back of slavery once more,” I say.

“Yes, a fresh coat of paint on the same old problems. My father is very good at that sort of thing.”

“Who’s your father?” I ask, curiosity digging its claws into me.

“Abraham Carr.”

I jump to my feet. “What?”

Katherine closes her eyes and reopens them. “You father is the mayor of Baltimore?”

The tinkerer’s mouth twists with distaste. “Was the mayor of Baltimore, since the city is no more.” His voice is rueful, but there’s no sadness on his face.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Katherine asks.

“Would you have trusted me if I had?”

It’s a good question. I wonder for a moment if he had any other motives, but his words have a ring of truth to them, and I begin to pace. I think better when my feet are moving.

“So Gideon ain’t your last name?”

“No, it’s my first name. Gideon Carr.”

I stop pacing. “All this time we’ve been using your first name as your surname and you never enlightened us. I guess because then we would’ve known who your daddy is?”

“Yes. I suppose that was cowardly of me.”

“Damn straight. So you’ll be okay with us just calling you Gideon now.”

One side of his mouth quirks. “I suspect that conspiring to overthrow this town should put us on a first-name basis.”

A thought occurs to me, and embarrassment flushes my face. “Wait, so when I was telling you all that mess about Kate being a lady and being taken in by the mayor and being booted by his wife—”

“I knew it was a lie. I still exchange letters with my mother regularly. But you were so enamored of your story that it seemed a shame to tell you.” He grins, and I groan.

“Let’s change the subject. Data, big news, and so forth?”

Gideon adjusts his spectacles and stands once again. “Yes, of course.” He moves across the room to the map with the colored pins, his limp more pronounced than usual. “So, for the past two years I’ve been cataloging the makeup of the undead beyond the outer wall. Last night isn’t the first time a large group has been able to breach it. The sheriff’s wife was killed in a similar attack. Hence my extreme dissatisfaction with the sheriff, the pastor, and the inability of this blasted town to electrify the fences.”

Katherine shoots me a questioning look and I shake my head. I can catch her up later.

Gideon continues. “The attacks are increasing. The number of undead in this part of the prairie? Also increasing. The type of attire the undead wear can sometimes lend clues as to their origin, and I’ve seen undead that wear the furs of the northern trappers, the uniforms of Mississippi militia . . . Somehow, the dead are coming from all over the continent and congregating in places like this.”

I stare at Gideon, a warm feeling suffusing my chest. He’s so smart that it’s downright distracting. “How do you think they’re doing it?”

“I’m not completely sure. An entomologist in France, Jean-Henri Fabre, has written about how male insects are attracted to females. He believes there’s some kind of undetectable scent or signaling compound that insects use to talk to one another, like the way bees know to swarm to protect a nest. I think the dead can communicate in a similar way, that’s undetectable to us.”

“So, you think they’re signaling to all of their friends, even ones miles away, that there’s food here?”

Gideon nods. “It would also explain the behavior we saw last night. And their tendency, more and more common, to join up into a horde, as they clearly have in Baltimore County. It’s instinct.”

“Have you told the sheriff?” Katherine asks, her voice filled with the same despair I feel. “What does he think?”

Gideon runs his hand through his dark hair, mussing it. “Oh, I’ve told him. I don’t believe he understands the danger. He thinks the undead are just wandering aimlessly, that the patrols will be able to handle any limited attempts to break through the defenses, even after last night. He simply cannot fathom a pack of the size that I’m predicting. The group last night was just a warning; the packs beyond the walls will number in the thousands soon, and it’s only a matter of time before they try to breach again. I’ve been working on some advanced munitions for the patrols to use, but the sheriff still refuses to arm the Negroes in town. We’re going to need every man, woman, and child carrying if we’re going to defend ourselves from the undead.”

“Even that isn’t going to save the town,” I say. “Unless you can build a shambler-destroying machine, it’s just a matter of time before Summerland is overrun. We need to evacuate before another horde comes through.”

Katherine lets out a shocked sound. “And go where?”