The Vigilantes (The Superiors) (3 page)

New
Denver
sat in a more accessible location than the old one. Draven had never visited the mountains before, but he had heard that many people once populated the area. Not many Superiors lived in the colder climate of the mountainous areas, though. Superiors preferred to cluster in warmer areas, and New Denver looked like the last major city he’d encounter for many miles. Here, Draven recharged his batteries and bought supplies.

At the clothing store, he chose several blankets and a coat for
Cali
, two sets of warmer clothes for her, a thick canvas jacket for himself, and a pair of jeans for each of them. He tossed a pair of hiking boots into the bag for himself, and tried to remember if he’d ever noticed
Cali
’s feet. She’d never worn shoes, but he guessed at her size, choosing the next size up from his guess. Better to err on the larger side. He put a package of wool socks in the bag for each of them, as well as two pairs of thin gloves, and at the last minute he added a package of women’s underpants to his pile.

Buying underpants for a sap made him feel a bit strange, but he knew she wore them. He didn’t know if most livestock owners attired their saps in
Superior
clothing, but he doubted it. He didn’t know where to get appropriate clothing for them, though, as he’d only seen them wear the regulation shifts the government provided. It seemed convenient to get her
Superior
clothes, since she was made the same way.

After purchasing the clothing, Draven bought maps, another backpack, lighters, and a few other camping items. He had little confidence in his batteries lasting until he found Byron, since he drove all night every night. He purchased food for both himself and
Cali
, registering so he could receive another week of rations in advance. He chose the lightest food he could find—freeze dried in packets—and lots of water purification tablets. If a
Superior
got sick, although it would prove unpleasant, he’d recover quickly. If a sap fell ill, she might die, or at least remain incapacitated for some time.

After stocking up and sleeping six hours, Draven returned to the road. He had two fully charged batteries, weeks’ worth of food and clothing, and two backpacks. Grateful for the longer hours of darkness than in the Funnel, Draven took advantage. Darkness made driving much more pleasant. He’d also purchased a solar charger for his car batteries so his car would renew itself while he slept each day. It had cost more than he liked, and he’d debated whether to make the purchase. But he imagined Byron had one already, and if Draven didn’t purchase one, he’d lose ground every few days when his batteries ran out. So he bought the charger and tried not to think about the dwindling supply of money in his lock-box.

Draven’s first battery ran out on a steep hill, which proved quite thrilling, as he had to drive backwards down the hill, the Mert flying faster and faster along the winding road. Like most Superiors, Draven didn’t concern himself much with safety. After all, he was nearly immortal. What was a little car wreck once in a while? However, he didn’t want further delays, so he tried to keep the car on the road. He changed the battery and continued.

Inside his car the next day, he slept wrapped in a blanket and a foil-lined sleep sack to keep his body temperature as regular as he could. Of course he couldn’t die from exposure, but he became uncomfortable at very low temperatures. As he continued into higher altitudes, freezing had become a danger as well. While he slept, rain fell steadily on the roof. At first the sound bothered him, but once he’d grown accustomed to it, he found it triggered a vague sense of comfort from a time long forgotten.

He slept well that day and awakened after dark. His battery had not charged. A thick layer of ice had encompassed the car while he slept. Sometime during the day, the rain had frozen but continued to fall. Draven broke out with some difficulty, and though afterwards his door wouldn’t close the way it once had, he imagined the Memory Metal would regain its original shape soon enough. After breaking out of the car, he managed to chip away enough ice to see through the windshield. The road had become slick, and many times he slid against the guardrail or against the mountain or into a drift of snow on the other side of the road. He spent as much time pushing the Mert back onto the road that night as he spent driving. The car had used half the battery by morning, but it didn’t matter anymore by then.

He had come to a place where a rockslide or an avalanche had covered the road. Rocks and dirt and snow loomed for a space of six meters or so. He could have dug through it, but it would have taken days. When he tried to push the car over it, the Mert refused, sinking into the snow and catching on rocks instead. He spent the remaining hours of darkness pushing his car about quarter of the way over the blockage. Staying up half the day, he made another few meters of progress. He found it less difficult to stay awake during the day when only a sullen, muddy light came through the thick mass of clouds. The problem wasn’t the light but rather exhaustion, which made him weaker and slower as the hours passed. In the afternoon, he slept a few hours and awakened before dark. A thick layer of new snow covered the car.

Chapter 5

Sally hated chopping wood. Gol-darn, did she hate it. And today was even worse because it was cold as the dickens. Angela was supposed to chop the stupid wood, that had been her job back when, but noooo, she never did nothing right. Never had done nothing right, Sally reminded herself. Then she felt bad for thinking ill of the dead, so she thought about all the nights she had lain in bed talking to her sister. Even if Angela couldn’t chop wood worth a dang, she’d been good for talking to in the dark.

Sally felt better for having a good thought about her sister, and she sighed and hefted the sledge hammer. She brought it down, letting gravity drive the splitting maul into the chunk of wood. The wood split cleanly down the center, each piece falling away from the stump with a decided lack of grace. Sally picked up the two pieces and tossed them crosswise in the wheelbarrow. Maybe four more pieces to go and she’d be done. She wiped her runny nose on her glove and stood another too-big piece of wood on end on the big stump.

“Sally!” Tom called from the house. She looked up to see her uncle standing on the back porch, hands on hips.

“Shut up, I’m coming,” she called back.

“Hurry it up, willya? Fire’s about to die out.”

“Hold your dang horses, I’m filling the wheelbarrow.”

She finished the four pieces of wood left in her small stack, piled them into the wheelbarrow, and took off for the back porch. She didn’t pause or even glance at the big tree in the backyard where they’d found her dead sister. Angela was often on her mind, even after all this time, but Sally turned her focus to the task at hand. Getting this dang load of wood into the house, taking off her gloves, and getting a cup of tea off the stove. Well, dang if that weren’t three things.

“You leave that sledge lying out in the snow again, girl?” her father asked.

“No, Daddy. Course I ain’t,” she lied.

“Good deal. Now get you some tea afore the stove goes out.”

“Let me just take the wheelbarrow back to the shed first,” Sally said, knowing she’d get a good tongue lashing if she left the sledge out again. Making a new handle weren’t so hard, if this one rotted off. She’d made a new handle before. The hard part was making a handle that stayed on the dang piece of iron that formed the head of the tool.

She went out back and put up the wheelbarrow and the sledgehammer. She would have missed her brother altogether if she hadn’t decided at the last minute to grab a scoop of dog scraps from the shed. “Larry, sheesh, you scared the daylights outta me,” Sally said, covering her heart. “What you doing out here anyway?”

“What’s it look like, I’m working on the cage.”

“Yeah, fat lotta good it’s done us so far,” Sally said. “You’d think we’s all safe with this thing in here, then the first one of them bloodsuckers comes by and look what happened.”

“Yeah, well, next time we’ll do a better job of it. One of them’s bound to slip up one of these days. You know Hankins down the road killed one just last year. You can’t get too comfortable just ‘cause there ain’t been a sighting in a year or so.”

“I know, I know. Be prepared, right? You’re starting to sound an awful lot like Daddy.”

“I can think of worser folks to sound like. And as it happens, Daddy’s right. I can’t think about what’s gonna happen if one stops in here again. I don’t think he’ll make it to the cage with the way Daddy and Uncle Tom carry on about them bloodsuckers. But if he does, well, it’s my job to make sure we’re ready for him.”

“Well alright, I’ll leave you to it. Come get some tea iffen you get cold.”

“Will do, sis. Be in in a bit.”

Sally stopped to feed the dogs on the way in. Dumb things were pretty much worthless as far as she could tell. Sure, they chased off an animal or two every couple nights, in the summer months anyway. But in the winter they mostly just ate food and didn’t earn their keep no how.

Sally kicked her boots against the porch railing until the snow fell away in clumps, and then she went in the house to have her hot tea.

“After you finish your tea, I brought in some hawthorn so we can whittle away some stakes. Too cold out to do much,” her father said. He sat by the fire, peeling away layers of wood to bring out the sharp stake at the center of a limb.

“Yeah, alright,” she said, sitting down with her tea. “I ain’t got nothing else to do no how.”

Dang snow. Been falling for days. Everybody got grumpy, especially Sally. Nobody could get out to do nothing. Daddy’d been doing a lot of carving, and Larry spent most of his time out in that dang shed. Everybody waiting for the end of the world or something. Tom’d been pacing for days, wanting to get out and go to one of his inflammatory meetings with all those fellers who was always talking war and never doing much of anything as far as Sally could tell.

After a while of sitting around inside, Sally put on her snow shoes and piled on about a million layers of clothes and headed out to the shed. She went on around the side and loaded up with wood and took it back to the house. After she replenished the stack on the back porch, she went back out. She got bored with sitting around all winter whittling away at stakes for the herds of thirsty bloodsuckers her family thought was descending on them, closing in by the second. As far as she could tell, it weren’t nothing but a bunch of hot air. Weren’t no bloodsuckers coming this way as far as she could tell. If her family was all gonna die it, would probably be of freezing to death, or maybe dying of cabin fever stuck out there and not even able to go visit the neighbors.

“Larry,” Sally called, clomping into the shed. “Turn off that dang music! You know Daddy said we can’t use electricity for nothing until the sun comes out or the wind decides to blow a minute.”

“Yeah, but I don’t see Daddy out here, do you?”

“So we can’t use the fridge, but you get to listen to music?”

“Ain’t no need for a fridge til summer,” Larry said. “And I need my music to concentrate. Mind your own damn business.”

“Maybe I will. I’ll just tell Daddy you’re out here using up our last store of electricity listening to ‘Life Is a Highway’ for the three millionth time.”

“Shut the hell up, sister. You tell Dad, and I’ll shave your head next time you fall asleep.”

“What you doing out here anyway? Nothing’s gonna be using that cage except you, when I throw you in there next time you touch my hair.”

“Why don’t you shut your trap and go do something you’re good at, like brushing your hair a hundred strokes or making me some tea.”

“Oh, shut up, why don’t you? I’ll leave you alone with your stupid cage. Stupid boys and their stupid toys. Pretending you’re doing something useful when really you’re just trying to get out of the house and sneak some time with your dang radio,” Sally muttered as she fastened her snowshoes and headed back out. She fed the dogs and stood outside looking up at the grey sky. A few flakes of snow drifted down on the silent white world. Winter was pretty. It might be okay if it weren’t so dang quiet. Not one single interesting thing ever had or ever would happen with three feet of snow on the ground.

Chapter 6

Draven spent the night pushing and dragging and digging until his car traversed the landslide. Filthy and tired, he lay down to sleep. He thought he might begin feeling sorry for himself, but found that instead, the work had fulfilled him in a way he hadn’t been in quite some time. He’d pushed himself to his physical limits, and he found it gratifying. Almost immediately he found sleep that night.

In the evening when Draven arose, the car sat crouched under a blanket of snow two hands deep, the road under drifts of snow as deep as the windows. After all that digging and pushing, after all that work, the ca simply refused to go on. The battery would have lasted another night, if the car could have moved. But it wouldn’t move, and Draven had no way of knowing when the sun would shine again, when the batteries would recharge, when the snow would melt. Perhaps not for months, until the thawing season. Draven had lived in warm climates most of his life, so long he had nearly forgotten seasons existed, forgotten the snowy season. In ‘the Funnel,’ as they called their part of the country, they had two seasons—the rainy season and the dry season. No snowy season.