Wasteland (Wasteland - Trilogy) (22 page)

It was the baying of wild dogs.

On the far end of Prin, the townspeople tried to flee, but it was no use.

A dog had his teeth buried in the leg of a girl as she kicked at it, vainly attempting to drag herself into a doorway; her white robes were torn and soaked through with her blood. Two other dogs set upon a boy who was on his way to a Gleaning. Swerving, he fell off his bicycle into the dust of the road, where another dog slashed at his arms as he tried to shield his face.

Other dogs were galloping and lunging at anyone unlucky enough to be trying to escape. There were at least two dozen of them in all, skeletal and cringing beasts that were nevertheless fast and strong, crazed now with the bloodlust of the hunt.

Behind them, their owners, Slayd and three of his warriors, surveyed the road and gave commands.

Slayd was not without misgivings. He and his tribe used these dogs to hunt wild animals, never people. Yet Levi had been clear: He wanted something different, more terrifying.

The variant leader noticed someone attempting to crawl to safety under an abandoned car and whistled three of the dogs over. He made a soft, chucking sound and the animals obeyed.

It was the red-haired boy from Caleb’s class, one of the town’s handful of trained protectors. All week, he had been practicing his punches and club work; but what good was a small leather sap or even a metal pipe against three wild animals? One of the dogs seized his ankle. As the boy screamed and tried to fight it off, the others managed to drag him out.

There was a flurry of canine bodies as they piled on, the sounds of growling and snapping, and the piercing shrieks of the boy. When the screams abruptly stopped, Slayd whistled the dogs over. They did not want to obey at first; a variant warrior had to go to them, brandishing a club to break them up. When the dogs joined the rest of their pack, their eyes glittered madly and their muzzles were stained red.

The townspeople who were lucky enough to have been indoors watched from windows. A few who had been attacked were able to stumble to safety; others were somehow pulled or carried inside, bloodied and torn. But there was no way to warn the rest of the town. People could only look on, listening to the sounds of mayhem as Slayd and his men continued their bloody way toward the center of Prin, their pack of dogs roaming ahead and freely attacking anything that moved.

Yet one boy stood, unmoving, by the side of the road.

It was Caleb.

As one by one the people of Prin grew aware of his presence, word started to spread. He was their protector; only he could save them from this latest calamity. His backpack held his weapon, the terrible instrument that could strike down five men in as many seconds. Surely, he would use it now, take it and spring into action.

He will help us. He will protect us.

Yet their certitude turned to confusion, then doubt, then sheer panic and disbelief. As the devastating attacks continued, Caleb still didn’t move. He remained frozen in the eye of a hurricane, the mindless blur of maddened dogs and snarls and screams, the desperate attempts of people trying to escape. Caleb had been drawn there by the instinct to protect. Yet he knew he could do nothing without risking the life of his son.

In the near distance, hidden behind a dusty truck, Esther also stood, motionless and white faced.

The townspeople shifted their attentions from Caleb. There was a sudden commotion from the other end of the street. It was the agonized howl of a wounded animal.

A wild dog lay in the gutter, its legs kicking feebly as it attempted to bite the feathered shaft that protruded from beneath its ribs. It gave up, muzzle smeared with its own blood; and as the scrawny body gave a final shudder, the brown head lolled back, mouth and eyes open in death.

Striding into the center of the chaos was Levi.

He was flanked by six of his boys, faces covered by their black hoods. Three carried loaded hunting bows. When one spied a wild dog, he took aim and fired. Already, they had shot six or seven, and the air was full of the screams and yelps of dead and dying canines.

As he approached, Levi’s eyes caught Caleb’s for a moment. He smiled faintly, before turning to a guard.

“That dog,” he said, pointing down the street.

Slayd and his men were the last to notice what was going on; the variant leader appeared stunned when the largest dog of the pack, the animal closest to his side, let out a sudden yelp and collapsed at his feet.

He whirled around and with a look of utter shock, saw Levi and his men twenty feet behind him. Two of the hooded guards had their bows raised, aiming directly at him.

“Levi!” he shouted. “What are you—”

But Levi cut him off. “I give you and your tribe ten seconds to get out of Prin,” he said.

Slayd’s look of confusion turned into one of pure hatred. There was no way to comply with any kind of dignity. With a quick nod to his men, he and the other variants sprinted down the street and were soon gone.

The people of Prin, unaccustomed to good news, were moving about the street in an impromptu celebration. The ragged sound of cheering carried all the way up into the apartment above Starbucks.

Inside, Sarah was getting ready to join them.

At last, there was something to be happy about, after Esther’s Shunning, something in which to lose herself. It was a welcome distraction to select the right colored robes to wear, a soft pink that flattered her increasingly pale complexion. Now, she combed her hair one last time in front of her small mirror.

Earlier, when she had heard the first reports of Levi’s victory from her open window, she felt almost dizzy with pride. As she recalled the lingering kiss he had given her that night in the Source, Sarah shivered, closing her eyes. She only wished Esther was there to share this moment.

For she had a gift for Levi, something that would all but ensure her future with him.

Sarah took it out from under her bed. It was the book he had asked her to find:
Topographical and Hydrospheric Tables of the American Northeast
. The words meant nothing to her. All she knew was that he wanted it, and so she had found it. It was as simple as that.

She had spent dozens of hours searching in vain, wasting early mornings as well as long nights after working all day. She had picked through the crumbled remains of the town library and pored over the thousands of waterlogged and deteriorated books that filled the shelves of a large store off a Prin side street. Stubborn though she was, she nearly gave up hope; it was like trying to locate a single pebble in a giant field.

But after racking her brain, she was able to remember where she had found the first volume. During a sudden rainstorm years before, Sarah had been forced to take refuge in a cluster of crumbling buildings called “College.” In a basement, she had stumbled upon a cache of books. Squatters were burning the texts to ward off vermin. When Sarah asked, they allowed her to take a few volumes. She later used them to help teach Levi how to read.

Sarah had retraced her steps to the basement, now deserted. And, miraculously, she had found the companion book, charred and mildewed but still readable, on its long-forgotten shelf.

Sarah anticipated telling Levi the details of her search. She would have to phrase it so it didn’t sound like she was bragging; that would be unseemly. But he was sure to understand and then compliment her on her cleverness, her resourcefulness.

It was not only her own future she was considering. Levi was the only one capable of making and bending the rules of Prin. Once the two of them were partnered, he would surely listen to her entreaties and lift the sentence on Esther, overruling Rafe. Then her sister would be allowed to return.

Once outside, Sarah found that the streets were thronged with people, hoarse with shouting. She found she didn’t mind. Laughing, she allowed the crowd to bump against her, guiding her along, as she hugged the book to her chest. More and more people joined them, and together, they surged forward in a delirious mass.

Everyone rounded a corner, and there, partly visible through the crowd, was the boy they were looking for.

“Levi!”

Sarah’s voice was drowned out by all the cheers, the shouting. She pushed her way forward through the crowd, intent on reaching him.

“Levi!” she called again. Jubilant, she waved the book at him. “I’ve got it! I found it!”

As she squeezed her way through the packed bodies, there were fresh cheers around her as Levi climbed onto the hood of a battered SUV. Now that he could be seen by all, he turned and waved at the townspeople. Was he acknowledging her?

There was a gap in the crowd and Sarah stepped into it. She was almost there; he must be able to see her now. But at that moment, Levi was leaning forward, helping someone from the street clamber up onto the car beside him.

“Levi!” By now, Sarah’s voice was hoarse.

And then she froze.

Levi was pulling close a girl. She was young: impossibly, cruelly young, with golden hair and gleaming skin revealed by tight, thin clothing and set off by jewels that sparkled at her throat and on her arms. Levi paused to kiss her, then turned back to the crowd, accepting their cheers, their love.

Sarah could not breathe.

She let the crowd surge around and then past her. They were all screaming now. They were surrounding the car and rocking it back and forth, banging on the metal in rhythm. Laughing, Levi clung to the girl as they swayed perilously, as one with the crowd.

No one saw Sarah standing there. No one could sense the thoughts that whirled around and around in her head.

Levi had a girl: someone far younger than she was, someone far prettier. With a dull shock, Sarah realized,
And he probably always did.

Which meant that he had used her.

It was as simple as that, and as heartless. He sensed she could help him, and so he played off their shared history, manipulating her feelings for him. He lied to her to get what he needed.

Afterward, did he and the girl laugh at her behind her back?

Sarah thought about how she had behaved at her dinner with Levi, how she simpered and flattered, and her face burned at the memory; what she felt now was worse than any physical pain. And when she thought of her fantasies about becoming his partner, her dreams of sharing the Source with him, the shame was like a dagger twisting in her chest.

Humiliated and heartbroken, she turned away from the spectacle.

But she didn’t go empty-handed.

She was still clutching the book, the one he wanted and which she had come so close to handing over. Her eyes hot and dry, Sarah vowed to herself that she would never give it to him now, not even if he were to beg for it on his knees.

It wasn’t much comfort. But for now, it was all she had.

The celebration was nearly over. The townspeople began to head to work, walking in animated groups of twos and threes.

Among them, Rafe was nearly drunk with pride. He had actually shaken Levi’s hand and congratulated him. And Levi even listened to him, a handkerchief pressed to his mouth, as he made some of his suggestions for how to improve worker efficiency in the Excavation. Levi seemed to take him—him, Rafe!—seriously, and this had softened his view of Levi as a heartless tyrant. Rafe now hoped there could be a good working relationship between Levi and the town, ideally with Rafe himself as a go-between. This would solidify his quest for another term as leader, if he could survive to run for it.

He became aware that farther down the street, a lone individual was leaning against a mailbox. It was someone who hadn’t come to the rally and honored the town’s hero; and at this thought, Rafe felt a wave of righteous indignation.

When he got closer, he saw it was Caleb.

Rafe’s feeling ripened to one of outright disgust. He walked up to his former champion.

“Coward,” he said.

People on either side of him looked up. Caleb didn’t move.

Behind Rafe, a girl was hissing. “Why didn’t you help us?” she yelled.

Then someone in the crowd bent to pick up an empty plastic bottle. He threw it at Caleb and it bounced off his chest.

“Coward!” he shouted. There were scattered boos and curses.

Another person tossed a clod of dirt at Caleb, who still didn’t move. The fact that he didn’t defend himself infuriated the townspeople. One at a time, then more and more, they stopped to pick things up from the ground and threw them at him: dented cans, sticks, a dead pigeon.

Soon, at least twenty townspeople surrounded Caleb, safe in both their numbers and their anonymity. Jeering, they pushed him one way, then the other.

“Not so brave now, are you?” said one; and another spat in his face.

Rafe felt emboldened enough to yank off his own hood, exposing his face.

“Why don’t you just turn around and get out of town?” he yelled, loud enough for the people in the back of the mob to hear. “And you best not show your face here again, if you know what’s good for you!”

For an instant, the brown eyes met his own; and Rafe recoiled, taken aback by what he saw. For Caleb seemed neither frightened nor ashamed. Instead, his eyes blazed with a hatred Rafe had never seen before.