Lost Gates

Mildred pondered that between feeling the disks in her spine contract as the muscles tightened. “You know, there were people like that back before I got frozen. Religious sects. They were pretty much left alone. The only difference between these guys and the ones from predark is that the old ones believed in God rather than a sense of destiny.”

She stopped speaking as she noticed movement in the shadows. Krysty caught the change in her companion’s demeanor and immediately snapped out of her relaxed state. She turned so that she was facing the same way as her companion.

A woman came out of the shadows. Sharp-faced, tall and angular, she looked like so many other people in the ville. Her lean, long face was lined, although she probably was younger than either Mildred or Krysty. Her clothes hung off her, not because she was thin but rather because they were recycled castoffs.

There was something about the way she moved that made Krysty’s nerves tingle. It seemed as though she had emerged from the shadows, where she had been still, observing.

But why?

“Going well with that load,” the woman noted, her voice flat and neutral. “Soon be done. You’ll be glad of that.” It was a statement rather than a question.

“Damn right,” Mildred murmured. “Anything you wanted?” Like Krysty, she, too, was suspicious of the woman, although equally she would have been hard-pushed to say why. Instinct.

“Just came to tell you that the next shift won’t be yours. Baron wants to see you all later. That’s a real privilege. Means you get some time out.”

“Like a reward?” Mildred asked with heavy irony.

“Yeah. Anyone with a private audience with Valiant has time out before they go. Need to be sharp, not tired or hung over. So you have time to rest.”

Krysty suppressed a smile at the way in which the irony had flown over the woman’s head. Still, if it meant she could have a bath and soak her back….

“Why does the baron want to see us?” she asked.

The reaction wasn’t quite what she had expected. The woman shrugged in an exaggerated manner. “I don’t know. Stuff like that is private. Between him and the people he sees. Anyhow, you just finish up here and get along. I can find a replacement.” Abruptly, she turned and walked away into the shadows.

Mildred waited until she had seen the woman’s silhouette disappear through the double doors.

“That was weird. I don’t like the sound of an audience with the baron.”

“No,” Krysty said slowly. “And I’ll tell you something else. I’d swear she was there watching us before she came out. Why?”

Mildred smiled grimly. “We won’t have to wait long to find out, sweetie….”

AS THOUGH WADING through a sea of mud, Mildred grimly fought her way to the surface. She had been kicking and screaming for some time, the images of memory running through her head.

She wanted to groan as she regained consciousness and the pain washed over her like the final spray of water on emerging. But she bit her tongue, a reflex action triggered by the knowledge that she was tied up. Before she could even form the thought, her instinct told her to keep silent.

She kept her head down, opening one eye and knowing, by the way they brushed across her face, that her beaded plaits would shield her. At first, she could see next to nothing. It was incredibly dark in the wag. She knew it was a wag because of the noise and movement. Then the vague shapes took substance, and she could see the others: Doc’s head banging rhythmically on the floor of the wag beside her; Krysty still unconscious.

She knew J.B. so well that she knew he was awake and feigning unconsciousness. Jak and Ryan she wasn’t so sure of, but it was a fair bet that they had also come around. All of them had to have received approximately the same dose of whatever sedative that coldheart Valiant had administered. It had to have been in the food, as he had drank from the same brew as they had. Hell, she was angry with herself for being suckered so easily with that. A child should have seen it coming.

There was no time for recriminations now. She had to think about what was going to happen, not what was already past. She tested the rope on her wrists and ankles. Tight, but maybe not tight enough. Her joints were supple enough to perhaps allow for some manipulation. It was just a matter of being able to balance the maneuver with the necessity for stealth.

While she worked at it, to distract herself from the burning of the nylon rope on her skin she tried to recall exactly how they had come to be in this situation.

After all, for all its strange ways, Hawknose had hardly seemed the type of ville where this behavior was the norm. Events were still swimming in confusion, and if she could somehow decipher them, then it would allow her to be ready for whatever lay ahead, at the end of the journey.

TRAVIS WAS STILL at his work when Krysty and Mildred arrived at the shack. They were alone, and both bathed in silence, letting the hot water soothe their aching limbs. It was only after they had dressed that Doc and Jak arrived from their own labors. As they entered, they were bickering.

“I am sure that you cannot be right, dear boy. Why would they wish to keep us under surveillance when we are right in their midst? Surely if they had some suspicions about our intent, then they would not allow us to move so freely among them? If that were—”

“Doc, shut up.” Jak sighed. “Not care why, just saying.”

Both Krysty and Mildred’s interest was piqued by this exchange, as it mirrored their own feelings.

“You think you were being watched?” Krysty asked, following them into the room where Travis kept his primitive bathtub. A hand pump welded to a pipe that ran through the walls to a central tank behind the gas station supplied the hot water for the ville. As Jak began to pump vigorously at the handle, he turned to Krysty.

“Sure of it. Same two men pass by every five, ten minutes.”

Doc paused in stripping off his dusty clothing. “Come now, that’s an absurd leap of assumption, lad. They may simply have been going about their business.”

Jak paused. “They carry anything?”

Doc thought about this, poised on one leg. “No,” he said slowly as he finished discarding his clothes, with the exception of his drawers. “No, I don’t recall. And if you all don’t mind…” The others turned their backs, giving Doc a moment to shuck his underwear, enabling him to preserve his modesty.

“No one walk empty hand to and from anywhere,” Jak said with emphasis. “So why them?”

“But why do it?” Doc countered, climbing into the bath.

Jak shrugged as he discarded his own clothes, turned and joined Doc. “Dunno. Don’t matter. Just know it’s happening. And not good.”

“Jak’s got a point,” Mildred interjected, joining Krysty in the doorway.

“Madam, a little privacy,” Doc murmured.

“Too late for that, you old buzzard.” She grinned. “More to the point, something happened to us today…”

She went on to describe what had transpired, with Krysty adding detail while Jak and Doc cleaned up. Their own tasks, in the maintenance of the gas pumps and tanks, left them dusty from the earth, and smelling of gas. The primitive cleaners used by the people of the ville were hardly strong enough. You could always tell those who worked on gas detail by their distinctive odor. Fortunately they still had in their own supplies, some soap and shampoo taken from a redoubt some time before.

By the time Jak and Doc had cleaned and dried themselves, Mildred and Krysty had finished their own tale.

“I take back my own doubts,” Doc mused as he dressed. “I fear I did you a disservice, young Jak. For reasons that are best known to themselves, they have started to watch us.

“Tell me,” he directed to Krysty and Mildred, “did you notice this before today?”

“No,” Krysty said firmly. “You?”

Jak shook his head. “Just today.”

Doc frowned. “It is as though they were suddenly directed to keep an eye on us—perhaps so that we would not stray? Might there be a convoy due in, and that is the cause?” When the question brought forth no response, he added, “I will be most interested to hear what Ryan and John Barrymore have to say about this, and whether or not they have encountered a similar phenomenon.”

Doc didn’t have long to wait. To save gas—so important for trade—the workers in the fields walked to and from their tasks. Only the sec patrols got to use wags and bikes with any regularity. To trudge back after a hard day’s work was hard enough, but to be sent home early with an instruction to see the baron was ominous.

BOTH J.B. AND RYAN had been told to quit their tasks at about the same time that the others had also been dismissed. However, the greater distance told on them. They met about halfway back to the ville, the paths through the fields crossing so that their routes coincided. For some time they walked in silence, both too exhausted by their morning’s labors to spare the breath. It was only as they neared town that J.B. spoke.

“Think the others were called back to the ville?”

“Yeah,” Ryan replied shortly. “And I don’t like it.”