Horde (Razorland #3)(27)

“You sure you don’t want to join up?” the leader asked Fade. “You’re a natural recruit.”

He shook his head. “No thanks. Deuce isn’t old enough yet.”

The man’s expression hardened. “Think about your answer, son. Your thirty days will be up in a couple of weeks. What do you plan to do then?”

Belatedly I realized what that meant. Fade must be eighteen, or thereabouts. He wasn’t sure of his naming day, I suspected, as the elders had guessed down in the enclave. But based on his appearance and prowess, these soldiers were willing to take him on faith.

I swallowed hard. “If you want to sign up and take their training, I understand.”

“You’re crazy if you think I’m ever leaving you.”

That’s not what you said before. I must’ve said it with my eyes, as I would never do so out loud, because he registered my pain with a remorseful look.

“I wasn’t in my right mind,” he said softly. “You have no idea how much I regret hurting you, how much I wish I could take back what I said. I’m grateful you didn’t listen.”

It was frightening how happy he made me with a mere handful of words, but my heart, stupid bird that it was, sang on.

Torn

Before returning to the field hospital, I took a quick bath; there were private facilities for men and women. I’d asked how they managed it and received an explanation about rainwater, cisterns, and gravity. To me, it meant only that I could pull a lever and a trickle of water fell on my head while I stood in a narrow room. This was similar to how it had been down below, but the water was warm in Soldier’s Pond. They used the sun to heat it somehow.

The shower felt great but I didn’t linger. Afterward I dressed and ran back. I found Tegan with six patients, one of whom was Harry Carter. The other two pallets had been rolled up and stacked for laundering. Since she was smiling, I took that for good news.


“They recovered?”

“Enough to decide to leave,” she said.

Her gaze roved over my wet hair, clothes still sticking to my damp skin because I hadn’t taken time to dry off properly. “Do you mind if I go to the bathhouse too?”

It had been long enough that she desperately needed to clean up, but I hadn’t wanted to say something like, Get out of here already, Tegan, you stink.

“I can manage,” I said.

Since I’d watched over three times this number, not long ago, and we didn’t have any treatments due for a while, it should be easy. For the moment, I was content—full belly, muscles pleasantly lax from the run with Fade, and I was quietly glowing, too, over those moments afterward. Though things might be terrible again soon enough, right now everything felt all right. Or as much as it could be, considering what happened in Salvation.

Once Tegan had gone, I settled in the middle of the room, so I would hear if anyone called me. Sometimes the patients needed water or had an itch they couldn’t reach. At first it was quiet, then the pervasive whisper reached me. It was a thread of sound, my name rustling through dry lips. I brought the water pitcher with its ladle with me, expecting Harry Carter wanted a drink. But when I settled beside him, he opened his eyes. His face was terrible and sallow, which Tegan said was bad.

“Why am I still alive?” he asked.

It was an awful question, and I made up an answer. “Because you have work to do yet.”

“Do you truly imagine I’ll recover enough to be useful to anyone?”

I ignored the bitter, angry words. We had been keeping his wounds clean, so I checked them. He should be healing better than he was. I found that the bites had begun to fester—again—which meant they needed to be opened and cleaned. I hated this part of the job. Sucking in a breath to brace myself, I got one of Tegan’s knives and treated it with antiseptic as I’d seen her do. When I came back, he shifted away from me, horror in his gaze.

“Don’t do this. Not again. I’m never going to be whole. Just … let me go. Better yet, kill me. It would be a mercy. Please, Deuce.”

It was impossible to hear a strong man like him beg, and for a few seconds, I was tempted. The Huntress in me wanted to give him the end he craved since he had been denied a warrior’s death. But the girl in me shook her head vehemently. Tegan will never trust you again, if you hurt him. My fingers trembled on the knife as dual instincts warred within me.

Gently, I said, “I’m not doing that, Harry Carter. You might’ve lost your family, but you saved a good portion of the town. I hear you fought like the devil himself, keeping the Freaks away from the Bigwater house, so that others could escape.”

“That’s done. I’ll never hold a rifle again.”

“That’s a lie,” I told him. “You took most of the damage elsewhere. If you’d just make up your mind to heal, you could get out of this place and take some revenge on those monsters.”

His retort was sharp with bitterness. “‘Revenge not yourselves, my dearly beloved; but give place unto wrath, for it is written: Revenge is mine, I will repay, saith the Lord.’”

I recognized that as a quote from the old book Caroline Bigwater had been prone to toting. “I don’t mean to urge you to sin, Mr. Carter, but if it was me, I’d want blood in payment from those Muties, not the word of a man who lives in the clouds.”