Page 25
Days Since Last Attack: 0
The sun is beginning its decline by the time Doctor Morgan comes down the stairs of the community cellar to retrieve us. She looked us over before sending us down here but wanted to keep us quarantined for two hours so that she could double-check our eyes.
Doc’s familiar face peeks out from the stairwell, her usually loose curls now braided under a bandanna. Exhaustion is etched into her umber skin, but she greets us with a smile regardless. “Y’all ready to get out of here?”
“Yes,” Vale moans as the rest of the group waiting with us agree with their own noises of affirmation.
“I’m sure you’re all starving, so let’s get this over with. I heard the cooks are treating us all to deer stew.” The promise of meat has everyone up and moving toward where she’s setting up her med bag and grabbing out her small flashlight.
We all wait patiently as she checks each person before clearing them to leave. As the last to arrive, Vale and I wait in the back of the line, but it’s not long before Vale is standing still while Doc looks into her eyes. I check to make sure it’s just the three of us in the cellar before I ask Doc, “How many did we lose?”
She frowns a little and switches off her light before answering. “I won’t have a total until after I check on the guards quarantined in the other cellar,” she says. “But my guess is about thirteen.”
Thirteen people? That’s almost a fifth of our total population. My stomach clenches with sadness and worry.
Vale rubs her chest and clears her throat to ask, “Clay? Have you seen him?”
I hold my breath until Doc’s face softens into a small smile. “Yes, he was cleared a little while ago. Same for River and Ferris.” I open my mouth to ask about the delegation, but she beats me to it. “And our visitors are all okay as well.”
My shoulders lower with relief and Vale takes my hand again in a gentle squeeze. “Okay,” Doc says, “go get some food.” She turns to Vale as she jokes, “You look like you could eat a moose.”
“Right you are,” Vale laughs, then tugs me away toward the stairs. As we ascend, I wave goodbye to Doc, noting how defeated she really looks.
Vale beelines to the dining hall as soon as we emerge from the cellar, murmuring something about shifting burning more energy, but I can’t stand the feel of the dried, flaking blood all over my clothes and skin, so I tell her to go ahead while I head home to shower. I also want some time to decompress before forcing myself into a room full of stressed-out people panicking, crying, and reeking of fear. I know it’s going to be important for us to come together as a community to rebuild and recover, but I need some time to process my own emotions first.
I’m surprised to find that neither River nor Ferris are home when I open the cabin door, but I’m relieved that I’ll have the cabin and shower to myself for now. Walking into the bathroom, I turn the shower knob on and undress as I wait for the water to be pumped inside from the reservoir just outside the cabin. Hopefully it was warm enough today for the water to be at least lukewarm.
As soon as the water begins to spray from the shower head, I test the temperature and sigh with relief that it’s not freezing cold. I step into the shallow tub and begin vigorously scrubbing with an old piece of shirt and the bar soap we source from a local farm. They’ve somehow mastered the ratio of animal fat and wood ash to make bar soap that we use as our main cleaning agent when our runners can’t find soap during their supply runs. I typically prefer the handmade soap, anyway, because I often get overwhelmed by all of the scents that Before humans used to douse their bodies with. However, right now I’d give anything for a bottle of something overly scented just to help relieve me of the noxious scent of Biter blood.
After several minutes of scrubbing, my skin finally feels better without the contact irritation from the dried blood. I watch with satisfaction as the water turns a murky gray and washes down the drain. To help conserve water, I typically only wash my hair twice a week, but after today, I go ahead and lather it up too. The spray feels especially calming as it patters against my head and flows down my face, helping my sense of smell return. I sigh in relief. I hate being cut off from the world in that way.
I take a moment to just enjoy the water flowing over my skin and begin to organize my thoughts about today’s events. The fact is, we were somehow almost decimated by the largest horde in Grand Prairie history, and everything about it feels far too organized, too human. Then, my best friend was forced to reveal her deepest secret, and I don’t know what to do with that information other than to accept it and move on for my own sanity. I’m also feeling really foolish about how much I have relied on the wall to keep me safe. It’s embarrassing that I forgot all the lessons I was forced to learn in the Wilds just because I’m no longer fighting to live.
In the Wilds, there is no hierarchy. There are no authority figures, leaders, or elders to control you. There isn’t some assembly that gets to make decisions about your life without your say. If your life is in danger, it’s because of your own decisions, not because seventy-some people, all with their own motivations, are penned into the same place. Being a nomad in the Wilds is dangerous in its own way, but you can only fight over material possessions and power when you have the security to actually have them.
I think Dair was right when he said that the wall keeps people in. It keeps us trapped in a power hierarchy reminiscent of the same systems that created the Switch. The wall was supposed to protect us, but it’s been collaring me the same way it collars the old camp we live in. A comfort that I think was maybe necessary when I was still a child and needed stability but has done nothing but chafe as I’ve grown up.
In fact, the Biters getting past the wall is proof that it’s not for our protection, but instead for control. Otherwise, why would anyone use it to harm the compound? Controlling the wall is synonymous with controlling the compound. The wall is power, and today someone tried to steal it.
I turn the shower knob, cutting off the flow of water, and wrap myself in a length of old blanket that was cut into towels. The screen door slams shut, and I jump a little before hurriedly scrunching my hair out and wrapping it in an old T-shirt. I double-check that my body is covered and then poke my head out of the bathroom to peer down the hall into the main room.
I was expecting to see River and Ferris piling onto the couch or settling around the table, but instead, Dair stands just inside the door, his massive body framed by the warm light of the sun setting behind him. He slowly looks around the room and kitchen before noticing me hanging halfway out of the bathroom, wrapped in my makeshift towels. Already my body is responding to his presence, and I begin to feel floaty with fluttery excitement.
He clears his throat and says, “Sorry for the intrusion. I was looking for you at the dining hall and Vale told me where to find you.”
Clutching my towel for dear life, I walk into the main room and ask, “Is everything okay?”
Dair watches me approach with the same devoted attention he has shown me since the moment we met. Despite doing my best to keep the towel wrapped tight, my thighs peek out with every step, and Dair tracks each little flash of skin like a predator hunting his prey. His lush forest scent darkens as the spicy honey becomes sharper.
When he speaks again, his voice is deeper and growly. “I brought you some food.” It’s only then I notice the small basket at his side, full of dinner if the rich, savory smell is anything to go by.
“Oh, thank you,” I breathe.
“We had agreed to meet tonight, but after the stress of today, I wasn’t sure if you would feel like it. I figured a quiet dinner away from everyone might be better for you. I brought enough food for us to eat together, but I don’t have to stay. I just wanted to make sure you ate.”
“You have no idea how much I appreciate that,” I laugh. “Let me quickly get dressed and then I’d love to eat with you.”
Dair’s lips lift in a small smile, and as I back away toward my room, he calls out, “I’ll just set everything up at the table, yeah?”
