Horde

Once we finished moving the bodies, they fetched us shovels, and everyone pitched in to plant the dead. When I first heard of this custom, it gave me nightmares because it seemed so similar to putting seeds in the ground; and my sleeping mind conjured all kinds of horrific plants that might sprout from a corpse. It was silent work, raking dark soil over the faces of the dead. I heard only the rasp of the shovels and rakes and the breath of those who labored beside me. Black and still, the freshly dug mound rose up from the grass surrounding it. There should be some marker to commemorate the tragedy, but maybe the memory of the people who had loved and lost would do the job instead. Then the men of Winterville came with wood and stone, nails and hammers, and they built a monument. I rested in the shade nearby, weary in body and soul. Once the noise quieted, Mrs. Meriwether fetched the minister, who had a holy book similar, but not identical, to the one Caroline Bigwater read from when she disapproved of someone.

I gathered along with everyone else. These words were soft, and they slid like silk from the holy man’s mouth. “‘For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven: a time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted. Weep no more, my children. He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.’”

After the service ended, the people of Winterville swallowed their tears, pretending their loved ones had gone to a better place. I didn’t know the truth, so maybe they were right. Company D stood silent and respectful through the completion of their rites, then the men gathered around me. It was late in the day by then, and while I didn’t especially want to spend another night here, I didn’t think it was wise to leave the protective perimeter with dark coming on. The pheromones—though they drove part of the town crazy—still seemed to be functioning as a deterrent to the Freaks. So we could rest safely here, I imagined. Before I could announce the decision, however, Mrs. Meriwether stepped toward me.

I met her halfway, brow arched in inquiry. “Something else, ma’am?”

“We’d like to thank you. At the moment, we don’t have much, but it’s customary to share a meal in honor of the deceased. We cook their favorite foods, talk about good times, and remember them kindly.” She lifted a plump shoulder. “It might be a silly tradition, but it comforts people, and supposedly it allows the spirit to move on, like a rite of passage.”

After so much death, it seemed wise to pacify the spirits. I wasn’t convinced such things existed, but if they did, it would be bad for feral souls to stick around. They’d soon drive the survivors mad.

So I nodded. “We’d be honored to share a meal with you tonight.”

The houses were too small to host so many people; there was no mess hall like they had in Soldier’s Pond, so they made do in the town square. People carried out what they had left in their cupboards, and men and women shared the cooking; a good idea, I thought. Soon, there was meat roasting in multiple fires, vegetables bubbling, and sweets being stirred in pots. Other townsfolk went about the business of removing all signs of the bloodbath from the day before. Stern-faced, weary men worked with rags and buckets. For a time, those labors made people forget the high cost of survival.

What will they do with the makeshift prison they built to house the afflicted? And why didn’t they just confine them in their houses? It was possible they tried that and that measure failed. I closed my eyes for a few seconds, breathing in the savory smells. Belatedly, I realized I was starving. Dry meat and bread had been the norm on the way, and I’d pushed the men hard. I’d feared we would arrive too late, but now I could relax a little. The crisis was past.

Someone sat down beside me, then I recognized Tegan’s voice. “Do you think things will ever be the same here?”

“I don’t know,” I said honestly.

“Where are we headed in the morning?”

I had been thinking about that a lot. “We’ll try our luck nearby, see if our success in the fall was enough to change people’s minds.”

“Good idea.”

As the cooks finished up the evening meal, a trading party arrived from Lorraine—and that seemed like a sign. They were grizzled men with permanently sun-browned skin and silver beards. Their easy manners reminded me of Longshot, and a hole opened up inside me. I’d lost people before, but never like that. Nobody ever thought so much of me that he’d die so I could live, and I was finding it hard to carry that gift, as there was no way of repaying him.

“What happened here?” the lead driver asked, for it was obvious the town was recovering from an attack.

“Private dispute,” Mrs. Meriwether told him.

“Not Muties?” the man demanded. “There’s a huge mess of them over in Appleton. The whole town’s overrun.”

The woman blanched but she shook her head. “So far, we’ve seen nothing of them.”

“I wouldn’t fret. I hear there’s an army on the march. I had word on the trail from John Kelley. These soldiers killed about a thousand mutants out past Soldier’s Pond.”

The trader’s comment put a smile on my face. As promised, the trapper was spreading word about—and exaggerating—our great deeds. I didn’t know how much his stories would help, but they were entertaining, anyway.

Agnes Meriwether opened her eyes wide. “Is that so? Well, there will be a party tonight, so you’ve arrived in time for some good eating.”

“Thanks kindly. We’re all hungry enough to eat a raw bear.”

A nascent strategy solidified in my mind as I listened to their polite talk; the wagons were heavy with goods that Winterville desperately needed. With luck, the citizens could find things of value to offer in return, despite the circumstances. The townsfolk hurried off to gather scattered items to offer in exchange for fresh supplies. Longshot had told me that men traveled the trade runs during spring and fall, so we could expect to see more caravans, more targets for the Freaks too.

I sought Fade out to ask his opinion. He was sprawled beneath a flowering tree, its white blossoms sweet in the cool air. Even dirty and tired, he was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen.

“You look like there’s something on your mind.”

I nodded, dropping down beside him. “I was thinking that we should guard the trade routes. The fastest way to endear ourselves to the people in the remaining towns is to keep their economies thriving.”

“You reckon that’ll make them feel indebted, more likely to send men to bolster our numbers?”

“I hope so. It’s the only idea I have left.” Beyond securing more ground for Soldier’s Pond, I couldn’t imagine how our squad could make a difference against the horde.

“It’s solid,” he agreed.

“We have to add to Company D … or the minute the Freaks abandon Appleton, they’ll roll right over the next town.”

By proximity, Lorraine had the most to worry about, as the settlement was only four days away. A big group might take longer to arrive, but not long enough for the citizens to evacuate, and besides, where would they go? Urgency clutched at me with hot, sharp fingers, but there was nothing I could do at the moment. That didn’t sit well at all.

Fade braced and reached for me then. It seemed to me that it got easier each time he did it, more natural. I hoped the day would come when he could do it without needing that mental pause, where touching me was the easiest and best thing in the world. “Try not to worry. For the moment, we’re safe and we’re together. Let that be enough.”

That was more than enough; it was everything.

Defense

Stalker returned late that night, well after they set out the food. He caught my eye and nodded, letting me