Donor 23 (28 page)

In his hands he held a book and read to a group of children, including Crackling Fire. He stopped as Joan approached.

“Miss Joan,” he greeted her, smiling. His eye was still swollen from the fight.

“Looks like the swelling’s getting better.”

“Indeed,” he replied, and then turning to the children, “We’ll read more later.”

“Don’t stop,” Crackling Fire protested. “We want to see what Long John Silver does.”

“Later, you urchins. Go on, shoo!” he sent them on their way.

As Crackling Fire left, he paused and said to Bash, “How come you call Lionheart
Joan?
Reck does too.”

“It’s another name.”

“What’s it mean?”

“I believe it means ‘merciful.’”

Crackling Fire looked at Joan. “Yes, that’s Lionheart.”

Turning to Joan, Bash said merrily, “Please pull up some soft dirt and sit down.”

“I didn’t know that,” Joan said, referring to her name.

Isabel stood up. “He’s a regular encyclopedia. All he does is read,
hija
. You should see the books he carries around with him.”

“An old pre-Impact writer, name of Mark Twain once wrote: ‘Good friends and good books make the ideal life,’” Bash countered.

“Coffee helps, too. Coffee?” Isabel asked, holding up her cup.

Joan nodded, “Love some. We just drink tea at my tent.” She motioned to the departing kids and commented to Bash, “They enjoy hearing your stories.”

He plopped the book down next to him, “Books are just ink and paper, but they come alive when we read them. And then they stay alive in us.” He held up his empty cup to Isabel as she walked to the fire. “I shall partake, as well.” He stared at Joan thoughtfully for a moment. He spoke even slower and more protracted than his usual manner of speech, “Perhaps many things from our past can stay alive in us.” Clearing his throat—and his mind, he spoke quickly, “So, what brings you to the outer reaches of the camp? Looking for Reck?”

Joan nodded.

“He’s not here. He went with Arrow Comes Back. He’s endeavoring to learn the art of the hunt. I think the young man wants to impress you,” Bash winked.

“He’s got a crush on you, you know?” Isabel came up, cradling three cups of hot coffee.

Bash took a cup, “Gratitude, my dear.” Turning back to Joan, “Yes, ma’am, he’s trying to get Arrow Comes Back to teach him shooting. I guess you’ve been teaching him, he tells me. But, well, between the trees and us, he was surprised to find you so adept at archery. I think he was embarrassed.”

“You have to watch out for that male ego,” Isabel smiled.

“And as I discovered the other night,” he motioned to his swollen eye, “you are well acquainted with hand-to-hand combat. I owe my victory to you.”

Joan shrugged, “I had to learn that stuff—archery, shooting, kickboxing for…” she said, hesitating a moment, but lately she could talk about that part of her life with greater ease. “For my benefactor. I didn’t have a choice in the matter. It was the System. I had to have strong muscles for the same things she needed them for—in case I had to donate.”

Isabel shook her head. “I don’t understand how the Alliance could treat its people that way.”

Bash narrowed his eyes intently at Joan, “But you never told Reck what you did? That you learned all this?”

Joan shook her head, indicating she hadn’t. There was a lot she hadn’t told Reck.

Bash stated, “Well, now that he knows, he says it’s a good thing you’re well-versed in the arts of self-defense. That it’ll come in handy when the two of you join the Resistance.”

Joan said nothing. She didn’t want to talk about the Resistance. Bash regarded her a minute, studying her. “
He
says, anyway.”

Joan still remained silent.

“He thinks quite highly of you,” Bash continued. “Talked about you all the time on our trek together.”

“I like him, too,” Joan admitted.

“He recounted to me tales of all you did.” He took a sip of coffee and uttered with a wily smirk, “You’re a better man than I am, Gunga Din.”

Joan looked at him quizzically, “What’s that mean?”

“Oh, please don’t ask him,
hija
. Never ask him,” Isabel advised, rolling her eyes.

He pulled Isabel to him and kissed her cheek.

“Don’t try to kiss your way out of it Arch—”

He moved to her lips. Joan looked away, embarrassed.

When he pulled away, he winked at Joan. “What it means is: how brave you are.”

Joan started shaking her head, but he interrupted, “I’d already seen the poster of you and heard the details of your astounding escape, but he told me that prior to your escape, you tried to save—”

Her past was forcing its way into this happy life, invading her security. “No, I’m not brave,” she said with enough irritation in her voice that Bash held up his hand, as if to surrender.

“I certainly didn’t mean to insult you. Bravery, heroism… those are overrated. Frankly, Joan, I equate bravery with stupidity.”

“This coming from a man who fought a guy twice his size the other night—for honor,” she argued sarcastically.

“You’re proving his point,” Isabel said.

Anger sneaked into Joan’s voice, “I’ll just go find Reck.”

She got up to leave.

“One moment, Joan,” Bash called.

He reached into his saddlebag and pulled out a small, weatherworn book.

“For you,” he held it out to Joan.

“
Jane Eyre,
” Joan read the title. “Not familiar with it.”

“No. It’s most likely proscribed by the Alliance.”

“Thank you.”

The book was stained with water and had small tears on the cover. She opened it to the first page. Scribbled in a youth’s scrawl was “A. Bash.”

He bowed his head to her, saying, “I hope it speaks to you.”

Joan repeated, “Thanks. And, sorry, I didn’t mean to be testy.”

Bash waved his hand, “No
mea culpa
necessary. One last thing, though, Jack employed me to convey all of you to Seaton—to that Lucas fellow. I told you and Reck I’d wait here for your friend—this Mr. Kaleb—but I cannot remain here for an unlimited period of time. Time is money. We’re going to have to leave soon.” He had watched her over the last month. In his eyes flashed an understanding of her and of her relationship with the Children. He asked with genuine concern in his voice, “You going to be able to do that?”

Joan didn’t respond as she walked off. She found Reck, practicing with the bow and arrow. As she approached, an arrow flew errant, slamming into a tree somewhere off to the left.

“Darn,” Reck uttered.

“You’ll get the hang of it,” Joan consoled him. “Let’s go find it.”

“I’m getting worried about Kaleb. Shouldn’t he be here by now? It’s been a month since I got here,” Reck said, as they looked for the arrow.

“If Jack said he’d get him out, then he will,” Joan assured him. “There it is.”

It was lodged in a branch, out of reach. Reck lifted Joan to get it.
Reck is strong, broad shouldered, and masculine,
she thought. The feeling of his hands tight around her waist brought Joan an intermingling sensation of pleasure. She grabbed the arrow, and he slowly lowered her to the ground. Their eyes passed, their lips passed, and he didn’t let go when she touched the ground.

“Joan,” he whispered, his breath wafting on her skin, tickling her nose, and delighting her. They stayed that way. Then Joan impulsively pulled him to her, to her face, and to her lips. Her hand lingered at his collarbone. Joan tried to open her heart and let her senses abandon their resistance. In truth her heart felt safety and security. There existed a familiarity between the two. They shared a common past and similar experiences, and that intimacy and ease had grown into love. At least that’s what she tried to convince herself.

30

O
ne breezy afternoon, Old Owl sliced root vegetables outside the tent as Joan sat down next to him. Quiet Snowfall climbed on him and picked up the food, playing with a potato.

“That’s our food, not a toy,” he admonished the little girl. “Careful, this’s a sharp knife.
Ah
, my back, get off.”

“Want me to take her off of your hands?” Joan offered, as she tickled Quiet Snowfall.

“I don’t need any help. Where’s your man?” he blew at feathery seeds, floating on the wind.

“He’s not ‘my man.’”

He shrugged.

“What’s that supposed to mean? That I don’t lov—”

“These seeds,” he interrupted, as he brushed his hands at the fluffy seeds. “I guess it’s the season.” He became wistful. “I
wonder where they came from. They travel on the wings of the wind, the very breath of the earth.”

One landed on his hand, and he held it up to analyze it. “It’s survived gentle breezes and strong winds, all to find its way here. It’s alive, here in my hand, but it hasn’t reached its fullness. It, alone, must decide where to land, what earth will nourish it, and what will protect it. In turn the seed gives strength to the earth. It’ll make the earth solid and resilient. They each give something to the other.”

Quiet Snowfall jumped into his lap, and with a smile on her face, she blew the seed off his hand. It twirled above him, around the tent, and out of sight. Walking from the same place the seed had just floated to, Arrow Comes Back and Reck approached them. Reck waved his hands in front of his face to blow away the seeds.

“The army is here with some Black Shirts,” Arrow Comes Back informed her. “They say they have a message for you, about a friend of yours. Crooked Arm says it is up to you whether or not you wish to speak to them.”

“Black shirts?” Reck questioned.

“He means TEOs,” Joan explained. “Captain Nox, probably. I told you he was here before. I’ll go.”

She spoke with strength in her voice and stood.

“The same two Black Shirts from last time,” Arrow Comes Back said, as he began to walk away.

Joan stopped
. What was Duncan still doing out here? She didn’t need his help anymore
.

Joan, Reck, and Arrow Comes Back strode up to the circle of men sitting under Talking Tree. Joan wore a dress in the fashion of the Children. Hugging her body tightly, it was light brown and comprised of thin, very supple leather. The neckline came
down to a v-neck, accentuating her chest. The leather around the sleeves, the neckline, and the hem were colored in a green-blue stripe, appearing as if she were framed. She seemed relaxed and confident, like a flower gently blooming in the soft sun.

Duncan gasped when she approached. Their eyes met. Joan quickly looked away from Duncan and slid her arm around Reck. She whispered something into Reck’s ear. A slight smile crossed his face, and they kissed. Arrow Comes Back had told them that Reck was not invited to sit, but he could stand behind them. Then Joan and Arrow Comes Back joined the circle, opposite the soldiers and the snatchers.

Nox spoke first, “23, I told you I’d find you.”

He had no hold over Joan anymore—no power—as she unequivocally stated, “You said you had news for me?”

She spoke without fear and without respect.

“Yes, a friend of yours is visiting us at the fort—number 42.”

Reck broke in, “Kaleb? What’re you doing to him?”

Crooked Arm raised his arm to silence Reck, and Arrow Comes Back turned and did the same.

“Nothing. He is my…guest. For the time being,” Nox replied.

Nox searched Joan for her weakness, the chink in her armor. She didn’t speak. She stared at him—her eyes meeting his, not turning away.

“Joan,” he said, watching her.

She didn’t flinch—didn’t react upon hearing him utter her name. It would be a challenge for Nox here, with all her friends for support.

“Joan, he’s quite comfortable. For now. But he is scheduled for an…invitation to the machine.”

He analyzed her reaction. He saw it. For a split second, concern flashed in her eyes.

He continued, “But you can save him, Joan.”

She still said nothing. Her gaze shifted to Duncan—her eyes drawn to him. He looked at the ground. She noticed the
bandage was gone from his arm, but he had a scar over his left eye. She returned her gaze to Nox.

“We’re willing to exchange him for you. We will give him his freedom, if you come back.”

She raised her eyebrows, ever so slightly. Nox noticed.

“What makes you think I’d do that?” Joan asked.

Joan tried to seem unconcerned, but she was new at this—new at the art of negotiation. Subterfuge did not come easily to her.

“23,” he reverted to her number, trying to keep her off guard, “do you want to be responsible for any more deaths?”

Reck couldn’t be quiet any longer. “
You
killed her father. That’s
your
fault, not hers.”

Reck believed he was defending Joan and coming to her aid, but he had just given Nox the ammunition he searched for. A smile briefly passed over Nox’s lips. He realized no one knows about her mother.

He raised his eyebrows. “There’s no need to dredge up the past, is there, Joan? We don’t have to discuss it now, unless you want to.”

Joan stared at the ground in front of her. Her breathing increased, almost imperceptibly. She shook her head.