The smaller group is attempting to thwart the larger group in their quest to capture women. The larger group has tranquilizer darts and intends to collect women like game, keeping them drugged until they become compliant. Claire found two fresh graves and reports they were killed during a fight between the two groups. The smaller group is losing.
In short, there is a group that is their enemy and another that may or may not be an enemy, but is, in all circumstances, a security risk.
The worst of it is that Claire was so confident of her assessment that she snuck into the smaller group’s camp and left a message. She wrote that they should follow the larger group and attack from behind when the fighting begins. With that message, she all but told this unknown group of men that there are women nearby, that they’re capable of sneaking into their camp, and that they’re watching. And she did it all based on her strange animal assessment, which registered them as “not bad,” whatever that means.
Earlier that evening, the Tribe began their planning. Willa isn’t sure if the aggressive approach outlined is a good thing, or more likely to succeed than simply defending their territory. The intelligence Claire returned with is giving them more confidence to plan, to venture forth…and to fight.
Bee interrupts her thoughts, saying, “If they really are moving camp and have staked out a new camp closer to us, then intercepting them on the move might be our best shot.”
It’s eerie sometimes how alike they’ve begun to think. Claire isn’t the only one who’s become more aware of the people around her because there are so few of them. While none of them have her level of skill, it’s certainly there in every tribe member to some degree. Bee just answered the question running around in Willa’s mind.
“I suppose you’re right,” Willa admits, but ruins the admission by adding, “but only if we get them as they arrive at the camp. If they get set up even a little bit, the risk goes up.”
With a slightly feral grin at odds with her expanding middle, Bee says, “Then again, we can also use the same technique we used at the tents. That worked.”
“Yes, it worked, but it was horrible. I don’t want to do that again. Not unless we have to.”
“Then let’s make sure this fight goes our way,” Bee says, patting her on the knee.
Miranda
If she thought it was difficult to act normal before she understood what was going on, then she clearly hadn’t understood the concept of difficult. Every breath feels like the air has to pass through a straw being slowly squeezed shut. Every step feels like she’s about to jerk away or run screaming. Every single word she forces herself to speak to Tom feels like a form of self-destruction.
As she busies herself preparing spaghetti sauce, grinding the herbs, chopping onions, tomatoes, and peppers, she’s really only half there. The other half of her is trying to piece everything together.
Cilla had explained what she could, but time had been short and they had to stop talking when Tom peeked his head in with a question in his eyes. The visit was cut short, but with a promise to return. It was a promise that had yet to be fulfilled.
According to Cilla, George had hidden her in much the same way Tom had for Miranda, adjourning to his newly-deceased mother’s house when the city became too difficult. No problem there. It was only after the reports grew more confident that fear or strong emotion caused the deaths that things changed.
Cilla said she had no idea what was coming. With George still commuting to the hospital, she had no way to know what he’d been up to. She knew he’d become convinced that controlling emotion was the key, but he’d agreed with Cilla that medication would never be a permanent solution. She said they’d discussed it, probably just like everyone else did. What she hadn’t known was that George had been looking to the past for a more permanent fix to strong emotion.
Perhaps Cilla had seen the morbid curiosity in Miranda’s face, her astonishment at the very idea of it. Most prominent was the question of why Cilla had stayed with George afterward. The woman had almost seemed to read the questions in her mind. And she had answered those questions without fanfare or excuses or even strong emotion…which Miranda now understood the reason for.
Cilla had merely said that there was no way to leave. She had trouble with her memory, hence the constant note taking. She couldn’t drive, her hands were clumsy and shook, and when she was tired, she had trouble finding the words she needed. She also said that she felt far less fearful and it was easy to stay calm. She couldn’t even seem to hold onto the anger she knew she should feel toward George.
Finally, she said that despite how terrible it was, Cilla believes George genuinely thought he was doing a good thing. Miranda had been horrified.
She also understands why Tom hasn’t done the deed yet. It’s obvious. It’s also the reason behind the visits. They need her to teach others what she knows in case she forgets after the procedure. They need her to pass on her skills in case she’s a drooling zombie like some of the others.
In the end, Cilla had told her that George must have drugged her meal, because the next thing she remembered, she woke up in the basement. While she slept it had been transformed into something like a hospital room, only less pleasant. She also woke with an excruciating pain in her head, slurred speech and trembling in her hands that
