“Mr. Epps. Ha! You hide out in the family root cellar, and you are family. Marcos and Elsa, okay? The uniform belonged to my husband a long time ago. It is the memories that matter and not the clothes. My son, Shawn, wore this coat. He died in battle. Now, I don’t know why the Merrics want you and I don’t care. Our Greer stole you away. My son would’ve liked that. You’re lucky he saved you. He’s a good man. Now, see yourself in the mirror.”
The braids were tight and clean but I looked young like I was a child playing in an old World War I uniform. I scratched under the collar of the jacket. At least the shirt and pants were cotton.
“You look like a Bridgidet. That was what they called females in the army, back in the day, during the Heyday of Good Fortune. Oh, that was so long ago.”
I handed her my pajamas. “I feel bad handing these disgusting things to you.”
“I am an old military wife and mother. I know smelly. I also know lice, and yellow fever, flu, fleas, and infections—all sorts of things.”
This confused me. “But isn’t there a shot for diseases?” Well, all of them except the one illness that struck the Merrics.
“Only important people get the treatments. No, the rich don’t mind when the poor die.”
“Even the Libratiers?” I didn’t understand. These people had fought for the country. She had to be mistaken.
“Especially the Libratiers. They think the poor are expendable.”
That wasn’t right. My family hired these people only to let them die.
“It’s time for you two to go.” Elsa turned me around to face her, and she kissed both my cheeks. I closed my eyes tight, and I kept them closed in case she saw through the sunglasses. She said, “May your days be diamond mines and not a sulfide pit.”
“Huh?” I asked.
“It’s an old saying from back in the day. Only the Galvantry use it now. Life’s hard but in the end, I hope you get diamonds and not poison.”
“Are you Galvantry?”
“That’s what the Merrics would call us or anyone who disagrees with them, but no. We’re friends.”
Greer and Marcos waited in the kitchen for us. Greer had a black bag of his own.
“You better be off. You should be safe if you go right out of town. All soldiers are accounted for. Go straight down the yard and into the woods. You should be fine but go quickly.” Epps took Greer into another bear hug. Elsa latched on too. When they broke apart, Epps patted Greer’s back. “Good luck.”
“Thank you,” Greer said once more. And we slipped out into the night.
Chapter 22
Hills and Hills
The shoes did the walking that night. The blackness and the stones—all the wear—belonged to the boots. I was sure at some point I fell asleep in them and that the shoes themselves were awake, or maybe my mind turned off, and all that was there and present was my body. This was a good thing. Exhaustion was good because it limited all mind mechanisms except movement.
We hiked the rest of the night, down through a long valley, weaving between the river, and up a high hill. The mid-morning sun was high overhead when we finally stopped at a small clearing near the peak. I saw down the valley and over to other hills in the distance. Miles and miles of trees and river and hills. Greer leaned on a half-fallen tree trunk and took off his pack.
Sweat from the brutal summer heat drenched my shirt and legs. A perspiration stain ran from my armpit to my belly button, and my eyes were sweating so much that my sunglasses were steaming over. Annoyed, I pushed them on my head. There was a wet ring around my stomach from where I had worn my wool jacket. Last night’s soup had only lasted so long. We’d burned a lot of calories on the hike, and a fiery pit of acid in my stomach growled, demanding food.
Greer stared out over the terrain, and my mind flooded with too many questions to process all at once. Who was he? Why was he helping? How did he know I was in danger? What did he know about the Merrics and their intentions?
Adrenaline had been coursing through my body during the night with thoughts of escape and running and danger, but in the morning light, I thought about the current situation. I had been so terrified over what Bollard did to Lothaire that I hadn’t thought about the person I was running away with.
“Who are you?” I felt this was the most appropriate question to ask and the best place to start. I had no idea who this guy was, and I needed to know because my gut was telling me he and I were in it for the long haul.
“Greer,” he answered, as if I’d forgotten.
Thanks, I thought sarcastically. I knew his name but needed more.
“Well, Greer, what do you want from me? Where are you taking me?” No one risked his life for a stranger without wanting something in return. This man was no different. If this summer had taught me one thing, it was not to trust people, and if I couldn’t trust this Greer guy, I was out.
He took a while before saying, “Those are fair questions, but I can’t answer them.”
Great. I stood up. Greer hadn’t attacked me yet—and that was promising—but I wouldn’t risk my life to be with a man who couldn’t tell me why he’d saved me or where he was taking me. I had already been delivered up to my unclelike a lamb to the slaughter. I would not be so easily had this time.
“I don’t mean to be rude, but that answer’s not good enough. I need more from
