The Final Trade (2 page)

2

It takes them the rest of the day and into the evening to reach the turnoff in the foothills of the Cascades.

When the mountains appear in the late afternoon, the sight has the effect of balm to a wound. Their gray outlines mean safety and home, something Zoey never had prior to six months ago.

Before that she knew nothing but the inside of the National Obstetric Alliance’s Advance Research Compound. The nightmares reliving her flight from the facility are always in slow motion. The Director aiming his gun at Terra’s head; her friend’s last words—that she hadn’t held her son before they’d discarded him like some piece of medical waste from the tank he was grown in; the gunshot, deafening in the cold space of the infirmary.

She and Terra and the other women had been stripped from their families, held captive, told that the virus that caused the dearth of female infants had turned deadly and killed nearly all of the world’s population.

When in truth the American government had wiped out many of its own citizens in a massive civil war.

She can’t help the derisive sigh that escapes her. Merrill glances over from the driver’s seat of the Suburban, its yellowed headlights staining the narrow dirt road that leads to the undergrowth where they hide the vehicle. No one has spoken much on the ride back, and she knows it’s because of her actions. She was irresponsible, dangerous, reckless. She should’ve waited for backup. A lance of shame runs through her, then dulls:
Riverbend. Missile.
It was information they needed.

As if reading her thoughts, Merrill says, “Riverbend’s a long ways.”

“You don’t have to go. You just have to tell me how to get there.”

The words come out sharper than intended, and she winces. She owes the entire group Rita’s and Sherell’s lives as well as her own. Her newfound friends had rallied around her, helping her rehabilitate not only her body, but her soul as well. All of them have been wonderful.

Except for Lee.

In the days following his departure from Ian’s home, she tried to think about him as little as possible, since his absence hurt nearly as much as the therapy she endured each day. But as hard as she tried to forget him, he’s remained an immovable fixture in her mind. Growing up in the ARC, he was her cleric’s son and, early in her life, her occasional playmate. Later he became the one person who stirred a bright passion deep within her. Now his memory brings sadness riddled with spikes of anger.

Zoey gazes out the window into the blanketing night that covers the side of the mountain. She knows it’s foolish to linger on memories. She has to focus on moving forward, and she can’t deny today was a breakthrough.

“You know I wouldn’t let you go alone,” Merrill says.

“You’ll stop me?” She looks in his direction as he drifts the Suburban over to a hidden path below the leaning pines on the side of the road.

“It’s obvious now that I can’t stop you from doing anything,” he says, bringing the vehicle to a halt under the canopy of branches. Eli and Tia climb out, grabbing gear and making every effort not to get involved in the conversation. “I want you to think long and hard about what you’re going to do, because like it or not, it affects everyone.”

“That’s exactly what they pounded into us in the ARC. If one of us broke the rules the next closest woman was punished as well. They kept us bound to each other.” Lily’s smiling face comes back to her then, the excitement radiating off her after pronouncing a word correctly. She sees Lily raising her arms up and down in the light of the flames from the downed helicopter, pretending to be a bird. One of Zoey’s hands strays to her stomach and touches the healed bullet wound. Amidst the memory her anger rises even as she tries to quell the emotion.

“You know what I mean. All I’m asking is you not make a snap decision. Things aren’t the same as they were before. Chelsea and Tia have been hunted for a long time. They still are. Now there’s you, Sherell, and Rita to think about. If any of you were taken or hurt, I . . .” He stops himself, and she knows he’s thinking about his daughter Meeka, her best friend and one of the women she failed to save.

“What?”

Merrill’s voice softens. “I get that you want to know your heritage, find out what your last name is, see the place where you and your parents lived before all this. And I know you want that for Rita and Sherell too.” She says nothing. The pines whisper and creak in the late autumn air. “I’m not asking you to give that up. But always remember you already have a family you’ll never have to go looking for.”

The darkness hides most of his features, and as she looks at him something bends, nearly breaking, inside of her before coming back into place. She swallows the knot in her throat and is about to reply when he climbs out of the vehicle.

“Let’s get this old pig covered up,” he says.

After concealing the Suburban with camouflage netting, they begin the hike to Ian’s cabin. They move single file through the forest that covers the side of the mountain like a maze. There is little ambient light from the cloud-smothered moon to see by, but Zoey could find the cabin with her eyes shut.

Here is the rock that looks like a dog lying on its back. Here is the broken tree that fell in a storm two months ago. Here is the scent of food drifting down through the forest. Here is the only true home she’s ever known.

Dancing firelight appears in the dark, and after they wind through a section of crumbling rock and bramble, the cabin appears.

Built into the side of the mountain, its original structure is hidden almost completely from sight. The addition that’s been constructed over the last four months looks native to the surrounding forest, with its supports of unfinished pine and steel roof thatched over with needles and boughs. In front of the dwelling a small fire burns in a pit and four grouse cook above it on a spit. A low growl comes from their right and a large, black dog appears, eyes reflecting the firelight.

“Seamus! Come here!” Zoey says, setting her bag down and kneeling. The dog’s growling ceases and he bounds over, nearly knocking her flat as he runs into her. “Fat dog. You gained weight since we left,” she says, scratching him behind the ears.

“He’d eat all our food if we let him,” Eli says as he passes. “Big bastard needs to go on a diet.”

“You’re just pissed that he’s in better shape than you are,” Tia says.

“I’m a specimen of fitness. Look at this,” he says, flexing both biceps so that they bulge in his shirtsleeves.

“That really does nothing for me.”

“Admit it, I’m wearing you down.”

“I’ll turn straight the day you’re not black anymore.”

“Workin’ on it, baby. I haven’t tanned in nearly a month.”

Their banter pulls laughter from Zoey as she gives Seamus one last pet and grabs her bag. A tall form stands beside the fire as they approach. Ian’s smile lights up his entire face and even with his smashed and crooked nose, the old man is handsome.

“The wanderers return,” he says, gathering Zoey into a hug. He is the only person unabashed about doing this. Everyone else in the group is always hesitant to touch her. For the longest time she assumed it was out of respect for her ordeal and paralysis, but now she’s not so sure.

Ian holds her shoulders, studying her. “You’re all safe?”

“Safe and sound.”

“So good to have you back. Was the trip worth it?”

She glances at Merrill, who gives her a sidelong look. “I think so.”

“Excellent, even better having risked and gained,” Ian says. “Come sit by the fire; the birds are almost done.”

As she’s settling onto a wooden chair next to the fire pit, the cabin’s front door bangs open, accompanied by a short squeal of happiness. Chelsea sprints down the stairs and leaps into Merrill’s arms, kissing him hard on the mouth.

“You were gone so long,” Chelsea says when she’s separated herself from him.

“It was only ten days,” Merrill says.

“That’s long enough.”

“Tell me about it,” Eli says, settling into a chair opposite Zoey. “My ass is flat as a pancake from sleeping on the damn ground.” He gives her a wink.

“That thing’ll never flatten out,” Tia says, pouring herself a glass of whiskey before handing the bottle to Eli. Three shadows detach from the addition that’s still being constructed, and a second later Newton’s and Sherell’s faces appear in the dark, followed by Rita. Zoey notices with some amusement how close Sherell walks beside Newton. Rita and Sherell draw two more chairs to either side of her and immediately begin asking questions.

“Did you find any?”

“How about the chopper, did you see it? We heard it two days ago.”

“How far did you go?”

Zoey grins. It had been all she could do to convince Rita and Sherell to stay behind. Both women are fully capable of taking care of themselves, but there is no denying she has an edge on them when it comes to fighting and shooting. She made it her sole purpose during and after her rehabilitation to learn everything Merrill could teach her about weapons and the ground fighting he calls jiujitsu, even with Chelsea’s constant chiding about re-injuring her bruised spinal cord.

“We never saw a chopper, but we found a reconnaissance group.” The low chatter around the fire stops. Zoey looks at Merrill for approval and he tips his head. “We caught wind of them southeast of here near the edge of the desert. Merrill and Eli heard people talking about three armed strangers asking about recent births and younger women. When we caught up to them and saw they were heading in the direction of the ARC, we set up an ambush to disable their vehicle, but it didn’t work exactly how we planned.”

She pauses, takes a sip of water, then finishes the story about chasing and interrogating the surviving spy. When she’s done there is only the crackling of flames and the constant whisper of wind in the pines.

“So are we going there?” Sherell asks. “Do you think there’s a chance we’ll find out who our families are?” Zoey realizes the question is directed at her, not at Merrill or Ian or the rest of the group. She glances at Merrill.

“Everyone’s agreed,” Merrill says. “This is important enough to you three that we’ll help you any way we can. No one in the group was given an ultimatum. Each person decided for themselves. If Meeka had escaped I would’ve wanted someone to help her find me.”

Zoey looks at the people ringing the fire and the same choking sensation returns. Chelsea, the doctor and mother to them all. Eli, always there to make her smile. Ian, never without a kind word or encouragement. Newton, mute but so gentle and intelligent. Tia, gruff but insightful. And Merrill, another name for him she can’t quite get herself to say yet.

They all gaze back. Her family.

Forcing away the tears that threaten to spill out, she says to Sherell and Rita, “If they’re all in agreement then we should probably have our own meeting.”

“I’m going,” Rita says. “There’s nothing—”

“After dinner,” Ian interrupts, standing to retrieve the dripping birds from over the fire. “First we eat.”

The grouse is perfectly done and Zoey has to restrain herself from eating more than her share. After ten days of subsisting on cold meals out of cans, dried jerky, and water, the warm dinner is luxurious. When they’re finished, the rest of the group begins to clean up while Zoey leads Sherell and Rita into the addition that consists of four new rooms, three of which are theirs. The bedrooms are simple and not entirely finished. There is still insulating to do, locks to be installed, more camouflage to be added, but each is a space of their own that reflects their personas: Sherell’s walls plastered with her drawings, Rita’s table stacked with books, her appetite for reading almost as voracious as Zoey’s. But her own room is less adorned than those of the other women, a little bleaker, and she realizes that it mirrors her better than she thought. Regardless, the rooms are so much different than the cold, impersonal quarters they lived in at the ARC.

Prison cells
,
Zoey thinks as they enter her room.
Call them what they were.
Sherell and Rita take positions on the modest bed that Ian constructed out of scrap lumber while Zoey sits on a chair in the corner of the room.