out for you here.”
“I’d like to apprentice and learn the family trade,” Rex said hesitantly. “I understand if you won’t take me back, though. I’m pretty old to start from the beginning and I’ve likely forgotten what little you managed to cram into my head, before—”
Edmund smiled. “Of course, I’m happy to have you. That only applies if I can find a workshop here, of course.”
Momma Oaks was scrutinizing the green shirts and trousers that everyone wore. “Their clothes are in rags. I wonder if they know how to weave or sew, here. I could set up a shop, too.”
It was good to see them making tentative plans, imagining how they could build. Their hope renewed my own, fortified my determination to find the place I belonged. So far, I liked Soldier’s Pond better than I’d enjoyed Salvation—not that I had wanted the town destroyed. They took us in and kept us safe to the best of their abilities, and I’d always be grateful.
Shortly after I finished my food, the rest of the men filed out. Rex rose to follow them, and Momma Oaks and Edmund did likewise. I came last, watching as the soldiers jogged toward a large building on the opposite end of town. I figured that was where the meeting would be held, more organized than the impromptu sessions Elder Bigwater called on the green. Curious and apprehensive, I slipped into the hall along with the last trickle of soldiers.
Inside, there were rows of benches, similar to the mess hall, but none of them were stained, and there were no tables. The wood gleamed, attesting to the fact that they discussed serious matters here. I slid onto a bench beside soldiers I didn’t recognize. Spread throughout the crowd, I spotted a few familiar faces: Spence, Tully, and Morrow, though not Thornton—and I imagined he was mourning his fallen son.
The colonel stood up front, talking to the same group who had agreed to let her send men to Salvation. Along with everyone else, I waited to see what the verdict was. I couldn’t make out the conversation from this distance, though I could tell they were still talking. The fact that they were meant I had reason to hope for a positive outcome.
Once the room filled up, two men swung the doors closed, then locked it. They took punctuality serious in Soldier’s Pond. Then the colonel called the meeting to order by whacking the table with a small wooden hammer. The crowd quieted at once, turned expectantly toward the front as the council took their seats. Once everyone was settled, the colonel leaned forward.
“A motion has been brought to permit these folks to stay as permanent residents.” In Salvation, people would already be shouting objections or support, but the room remained calm and orderly. Colonel Park went on, “I now formerly call this meeting to order to present our decision. Mr. Walls, will you do the honors?”
The gray-haired man I remembered from their first emergency meeting stood. “Yes, Colonel.” He addressed the audience then. “After a lengthy debate, we’ve decided to offer provisional citizenship status to any families willing to comply with the terms, which are as follows: one member of the household, male or female, must volunteer for service and pass basic training, then take his or her place on the active duty list. The rest are then free to assume support roles in town.”
Though I wasn’t sure, that sounded like joining the guard in Salvation. From what I’d seen of the training program here, it would be more rigorous; they took defense and discipline seriously. A support role must be someone who helped the soldiers do their jobs, likely by making shoes, boots, and uniforms. So that meant if Rex or I volunteered, then the Oakses could stay here and be safe. Well. Relatively speaking. Someone as smart as the colonel must understand the severity of the threat. Her scouts were good or Stalker wouldn’t be roving with them. He had little patience for incompetence.
“Are there any questions?” the colonel asked. Silence. “Objections?”
I expected a spate of complaints but the men and women in the hall merely nodded agreement with the decision. On some level, it made sense to permit new blood, but a favorable decision would never have been reached in the enclave. Resources weren’t quite as strained Topside, however, so Soldier’s Pond could afford to be more generous in their terms—and they still benefited from the influx of new faces. This ruling increased the size of their defense force.
Tully and Spence whispered together, though I wasn’t sure how they felt about the verdict. Morrow was watching me, and when I caught his eye, he touched two fingers to his brow in greeting. The gesture made me lonely for Longshot. Once the meeting broke up officially, I strode to the front of the room, my decision made.
“I’ll join up for the Oaks family.”
The colonel frowned at me. “How old are you?”
“Sixteen.”
She sighed and shook her head. “While I admire your enthusiasm, you’re not old enough, Deuce. We require minors to be eighteen before they can volunteer.”
Horror washed through me. “I’ve been training since I could hold a knife, ma’am, and where I’m from, you’re considered an adult at fifteen. Can’t you make an exception this once?”
“I’m sorry. I respect your courage, but an adult from your family must fulfill the requirement. Come see me in two years.”
That would be too late. Momma Oaks might be strong and resilient, but if Rex died in service to the town, she would have no children left at all. I didn’t think she could bear it—and even if she could—she shouldn’t have to. Edmund probably couldn’t pass basic training; I’d noticed the slow way he moved in the mornings, as if his joints pained him, and his back wasn’t the best from long years hunched over his workbench.
“What about the wounded?” I asked. “Some of them have no surviving family.”
“If they can’t recover enough to serve, then they have to go,” the colonel said. “We can’t afford to support those who give nothing back.”
So they weren’t wholly unlike the enclave, here. They just had the resources to permit a facade of kindness, but ultimately, the result wasn’t too much different. “How long will you give them to heal before sending them away?”
The colonel seemed surprised by my question. “We discussed this issue, and a month seems fair. So we’ll assess everyone in thirty days.”
I had to admit, that was reasonable. If a patient wasn’t on his feet and in fighting form after all that time, it was unlikely he or she ever would be. Sending the injured out into the wilderness was the same as a death sentence, but that wasn’t the colonel’s problem. She had to look out for the welfare of her citizens foremost. I understood that well enough.
“What about able-bodied souls? If they don’t have anyone who can fight, how long before you ask them to move along?”
“There’s never been a time limit set on trading parties or visitors,” the colonel said. “But they wouldn’t have citizenship rights.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means they need a way to earn their food and shelter, and we give priority to businesses run by those who have someone in service.”
So the Oakses could stay, but there was no guarantee anyone would buy from Edmund’s shop. With a faint sigh, I turned and walked toward the exit. The others had mostly filed out of the hall; they milled around discussing the decision in low tones. For the most part, their reaction sounded approving. I stopped short when I realized my family was waiting just outside the doors.
“You already volunteered for us,” Momma Oaks said with a touch of anger.
The failure stung. “I tried. They won’t take me. Said I’m not old enough.”
It never even occurred to me that there would be some arbitrary age that qualified me as old enough to fight since I’d been doing it for years. The schooling requirement in Salvation might’ve given me some clue, but there, the magic number was sixteen, and I’d reached it. I wished I’d known about the rule before; to help my family, I would’ve lied. Frustration surged through me.
“You aren’t,” Edmund agreed.
Before I could protest, Rex said, “I’ll do it.”
I wondered if his parents noticed the despair in his eyes. He wasn’t stepping forward so they’d have a place to stay. Ruth’s loss ate at him, making him just not care about the consequences. This couldn’t happen.
