Chapter 6: Hunters and Gatherers
THE CONCRETE WALL that circles the Outpost gapes open, and hanging from its mouth is a long grey tongue of a road, lolling away into the distance. There are Sentries stationed about a hundred yards down the road, and near them is another small encampment of men. They have large guns, a tent shading their heads, and a battered old pickup.
"Who are they?" I say, nodding toward them as we emerge.
"Matthew's," Apollon says.
We take a sharp turn to the left and walk along the wall. The first thing I notice is that Oscar is right. Beyond the neatly spaced line of scanner posts, the trees look like they could go on forever. The second thing is the hunters. The area is filled with them. Red stripes, orange shoelaces, badges. The occasional unidentified loner. They're all armed with guns. They lean up against the wall, their eyes searching the tree line beyond the barrier. The wall curves around, disappearing away from us, but just where we’re walking, I must count about a hundred of them.
"Surely there can't be that much to hunt out here," I mumble.
"There's not," Apollon agrees. "And it's not worth it. But these people are desperate."
"I know where they can get a lot of rats," I say.
He glances at me as we walk.
"If you hear any shots," Jonas says, "just hit the ground. Don't stop to see where they're coming from."
I warily exchange looks with Oscar. "Right."
A strange sound makes its way across the cleared area and into the trees— a deer call.
"They won't shoot unless it's really close," Oscar informs me, sounding like he's trying to be reassuring. "You'd probably see it before they start. Not that many come into the free zone."
I nod. We walk on. We're quite some distance from the gate when we stop to do our harvesting.
"These ones," Apollon says, bending down to show me the stem of some weed. It has small clusters of yellow flower buds, and is not very attractive. "The stems are woody, so you'll have to cut them. Try to cut as close to the bottom as you can."
"OK," I say, glancing around. There are plenty of them. They're growing... well, like weeds. Jonas and Oscar are already busy at work, slicing through the stems with their knives. Oscar spreads a cloth bag open on the ground for us to pile our harvest into.
I take my piece of glass from my pocket and begin cutting on the nearest weed. Apollon is right. I practically have to saw it off. I'm finally working on my second one when I realize he and Jonas are watching me.
"You don't have a knife?" Apollon says.
I shake my head.
He and Jonas exchange glances. We go back to work, and no one talks. We harvest the entire area then gather up the bag and move further on. Oscar's just setting it down in our new spot when Apollon, eyeing me, says "How long?"
The question, I think, is phrased specifically vaguely, so that, if I wanted to avoid it, I could. But all three of my companions are waiting for an answer. They're my family now, right? They're as much as I've got.
"A couple of weeks," I say, wondering how my voice is so much quieter than I intended it to be.
"A couple of weeks?" Oscar asks incredulously. "You mean—" But Apollon's hand comes to rest lightly on Oscar's head, silencing him. He closes his mouth and looks at the bag, then at the sky. It's like a signal to all of us, and we get back to work.
We're just finishing that area, when Oscar hisses, "Look."
I follow his gaze to a young buck wandering fearlessly at the edge of the barrier. For just a second I watch it in awe before I hear Jonas whispering ferociously, "Get down."
I drop to the ground like my more-experienced companions, and, prone, just have time to maneuver around to see the buck before the first shots fire. The deer makes a terrible noise as blood erupts from its far side. It rears, turns, and falls right on the barrier line, between posts, kicking.
Hunters stampede toward it, leaping over us to get there first. Someone steps on my hand. Their bodies crawl over the buck, looking like an anthill, but there's a tug-of-war going on here. Fists and knives fly out in different directions. Men grunt and fall away, scramble back into the fray. I grit my teeth, sure someone is going to die here. I'm looking at Jonas, to my left, wondering if we should run, when I hear the footsteps. Heavy, clanging, inhuman footsteps, headed toward us. I feel myself go white. I freeze.
The Sentry stalks toward us. Most of the hunters are too busy fighting to notice. Those who do shriek and take off running. I stare as it moves in, closing the distance. In some far-off way I'm aware of a hand gripping my wrist, dragging me backward, but I do nothing. I don't even breathe.
These people have had it, I think. They're trying to kill each other.
"Eden," Jonas hisses at my side. He's fallen backward, dragging me through the dirt. His fingers dig into my wrist. I look down at it, dazed. His sleeve has come up and there's a white scar on his wrist. Three lines at different angles. If they intersect above the part his sleeve still covers, they could make a star. He pulls at me, climbing to his feet, and says my name again.
The shock clears suddenly and I look around. Apollon and Oscar skid to a halt down the wall and turn back to look for us. I jump up and run with Jonas toward them. I expect us to keep running when we're all together, but Apollon is just standing, looking wide-eyed back where we came.
The scuffle has spilled over the barrier line. As the Sentry reaches the pile, its metal arm swoops down from above and plucks up the hunters who have accidentally breached the boundary. Not enough arms? No problem. One by one it bashes them over the head and tosses them into an unconscious heap. There are seven bodies awaiting justice when it is done. The remaining members of the scuffle have frozen, looking up at the thing with grimaces of terror. None of them are moving.
The metal monster picks up the bodies, slinging three over its shoulder. It carries the remaining four, dangling two-each from its hands. The clanging footsteps fade away as it walks back toward the gate with its prey.
Apollon lets out a long, shuddering sigh and sinks down against the wall. The rest of us follow suit. We sit there for the longest time in silence. The remaining hunters filter away, a few of them dragging the body of the buck, and the area is quiet. Truly quiet. I know that Apollon, Jonas, and I are all sharing the same vivid nightmare. We stare into space, each of us entirely alone, despite the fact that we're together. I can't make my body stop shaking. Horror consumes me. Relief only comes when a small hand covers mine. I blink. Oscar gazes at me with a worried expression. His other hand is over Apollon's.
Apollon and Jonas look less freaked-out than I imagine I do. Their faces are almost blank, bearing only the slightest curling of disgust. They look like they might be sick, but are trying hard to swallow it down. I wonder how long it's taken them to become this strong. How long have they been out of the box?
I push my legs out, suddenly feeling that I can't stay here any longer. "Our weeds got trampled," I say. My voice comes out in one big wobble. I sound like a turkey. I climb to my feet and rub my upper arms. It's cold, the sky darkening with clouds. It might rain.
Jonas stands up and offers a hand to Apollon, who takes it. As his friend climbs up, Jonas says, "We'll make do."
Oscar beats us to the bag and gathers it all into a bundle. We start walking toward the gate.
It's a long walk, and none of us are moving too fast. Maybe we just don't want to pass the Sentries posted there. I try to think of something else.
"You really think I should avoid the Rustler for a while?"
"Yes," says Jonas immediately.
"Because I beat them. And I'm a girl." The words come out bitterly.
"Because you beat them and you're a hot girl," Apollon corrects.
I blink. Did he really just say that?
He eyes me, then says, "No offense, Eden, but you could really have made things easier for yourself."
He goes on. Apparently Apollon doesn't self-edit a lot. "I mean, did you heat-shrink those clothes on or what?"
I turn red again. "It's not like I had a choice," I splutter, turning on him. "I got them off of a body I found in an alleyway." I’m miffed, but I'm feeling everything from a weird distance right now. "It's not like this dead girl asked me if I would prefer the modest cut or the plunging neckline."
He crosses his arms and grins down at me. "I have to say," he lulls, "I'm with the dead girl on the plunging neckline."
I go from red to white in the span of one second. I cross my arms over my chest, but from the glint in his eye, I can tell that only magnifies my problem. I turn my back on him.
Jonas, sounding completely reasonable and removed from this madness, says "You need a lot of things. We should stop by the marketplace before we take you home."
My anger flees. Not because Jonas was reasonable. Not because he made sense. But that one word. Home. It hits me like the whap of a Sentry, and I suddenly feel myself being unreasonably emotional. I blink tears away.
"Good idea," agrees Apollon, as though he has no clue that he's offended me. "We'll check on Neveah, too."
"Can we get lemon drops?" Oscar asks hopefully. As I remember his presence I feel doubly embarrassed.
Jonas ruffles his hair. "We'll see," he says.
We start walking again. I decide not to be offended. It's easier. As we stroll on without speaking, my mind wanders. We’re almost to the gate when I ask softly, "How long?"
There is silence for a few more steps. Then Jonas says, "Three years."
I glance at him, and then at Apollon.
Apollon just grins again and says, "Me, too. We're twins. Don't you see the resemblance?"
As we pass near the Sentries and wander through the gate, I shake my head and firmly say, "No. No, I don't."