Gray (Book 3) Page 11

  “Tell me how you felt. Take the time you were attacked, the first time. Why wasn’t your husband with you? Are you angry at him for not being there?”

  “No,” said Coral. She couldn’t tell the truth, that she hadn’t even met Benjamin yet. They were supposed to have been married for eighteen months. “We often split up, him to hunt, me to fish. We helped each other survive. Being angry at that would be stupid.” She spit out the last word more forcefully than she intended to.

  “But surely you feel something about the man—who, what, raped you?”

  “No. I fought him off,” said Coral.

  “Attacked you, then. You had to have been thinking, Benjamin, come help me.”

  “No,” said Coral. “I was thinking the guy smelled bad and I couldn’t let him drag me into his lair.”

  “Lair. That’s a telling word.”

  “It’s an accurate word.”

  “You seem a little upset.”

  “Do I?” said Coral.

  “It must be hard remembering it.”

  “It’s useless to remember it.”

  “No,” Victoria said, her voice gentle. “It’s not. We can’t carry these things inside us, Coral. We have to express our emotions about them. Get them out into the light of day.”

  Coral had to fight back a laugh. There was no light of day any more. Had she never stepped outside and looked up this past seven months? “Out there, we have to survive. There’s no time for self-indulgence. There’s the next thing to do, the next fire to build, the next fish to catch, the sled to pull another five miles.” Man, she missed that sled. She wished she were in harness now, pulling it along the snow, her breath condensing within the mask, creating a warm cocoon of air over her chin. She wished she were curled up in a snow cave, listening to Benjamin’s steady breathing.

  She wished she were anywhere but here, putting up with this clueless woman.

  Victoria was still talking, explaining patiently about how people needed to talk out their feelings and so on. She clearly believed it.

  Coral had once, too. Maybe she had always been wrong about that. But she knew that in this world—or at least this world outside the Boise perimeter—that it wasn’t true any longer. You had feelings, you felt them, you used them to survive and then you forgot them. You didn’t indulge them and wring your hands over them for days or weeks or months. They were tools of survival. Fear made you listen more closely, and panic made you run faster. Anger made you turn and fight harder.

  But all she did was nod at Victoria’s lecture, as if agreeing.

  “So what I’d like to you to is access those feelings—or make a start at it today. Try to remember what it was like. The fear, especially.”

  “How about the anger?”

  “Well, anger. That’s a funny thing. You know, Coral?” She leaned back. “Anger is really a second-stage emotion. It’s not real. It’s fear, but you feel defensive about the fear, so anger is a safer place to go.”

  “Ahh,” said Coral, as if she suddenly understood that load of crap. She wished she could deliver Victoria to the cult and let her hear how she was about to be bred so that alien spirits could join the world of the living. See if this woman didn’t discover that anger actually was a —what would she call it? First-stage emotion. As real and human a feeling as there was. “So what is it you expect of me?”

  “That you come and see me, twice a week, and we talk about these things. We’ll try to tease those emotions out of you, and see what we can do to get you past them.”

  Strange. Seemed to Coral that she was past them. Every incident—of fear and anger—had been supplanted by the next, and the next. The good days, she enjoyed the feelings of peace. The days of food, she enjoyed the feelings of being full. To ruin those days with clinging to fear or anger or recollection of hunger that was located in the past? What a waste of a life, of a too-brief life.

  She glanced over at the appliqué on the wall. It was supposed to be a pastoral scene, rolling green hills, some black birds in a blue sky. It was of a world that was gone. But this woman—and probably everyone here in Boise—still lived in it. They were children compared to her. Victoria was ten, twelve years older than her, technically. But really, she was still a child, pampered by civilization. Trapped by civilization.

  “You’ve been quiet for a couple minutes. What are you thinking of?”

  Of how you people have some tough lessons ahead of you. “That I’m lucky—and grateful—to be alive.” And that anyone who can’t tolerate two minutes of silence wouldn’t last long out there in the real world. “So are we done here?”

  “Let’s end today with a relaxation exercise, shall we?”

  Shall we. What a dipshit. “Sounds great.”

  “Why don’t you get as comfortable as you can. And close your eyes. Remember a place. Maybe from your childhood. A place that’s peaceful….”

  As the woman droned on, Coral wondered what she should say to her next time. She wondered if she could get out of these meetings, or delay the next. She supposed she would have to rehearse some story for next time, if there was a next time. Try to come up with an act. Tears or signs of remorse, or something. Maybe she’d make something up. Or steal a scene out of a movie or TV show, and use it instead. Yeah, that made sense. That would be something Victoria would understand, a familiar narrative.

  When the relaxation exercise was over, Coral mumbled thanks to Victoria and headed out the door.

  She probably had an hour until supper. She had some thinking to do. She’d take a walk, check out the perimeter patrols for herself, try to find Benjamin and learn what he had seen today.

  What had they found in Boise? A dangerous group of people? Or naive and harmless people, destined to die off when their resources ran out?

  Coral was sorry for those few she had begun to like. For the rest of them—well, it was the way of the world, wasn’t it? She couldn’t save everyone. She’d barely saved herself.

  And saving people who were not living in the present, not seeing the real world? That was probably impossible anyway. She tried to imagine herself standing up in the dining room, lecturing people on what it was like out there, what living without food felt like, and how any source of food remaining might be looted or defended with many guns.

  Except for the hunters, few would probably be able to understand her words.

  Chapter 16

  She walked the perimeter and met some more people as she did. She shook hands, and smiled, and pretended to be a woman being integrated willingly into a new community. Benjamin was nowhere to be seen, but Martin was on patrol and she spent five minutes talking to him.

  When a woman came to relieve him, Martin and she walked together to the dining halls. He told her Benjamin had gone to help Kathy with something north of town, so the niggling worry that had been bothering Coral about being separated from Benjamin was eased a fraction.

  She and Benjamin had more to discuss tonight. When he came in to the dining room, just as the bowls were being served to the tables, she felt enormous relief. He sat next to her, and she grabbed his hand under the table and held tight to it. He glanced at her in concern.

  “I’m good,” she said. “Just missed you.”

  They held each other’s glance for a moment, and he nodded. Both knew they had things to discuss when they were alone.

  Coral turned to the table and saw Abigail beaming at her. “What?” she said.

  “You two are cute together,” said Abigail.

  “Um, thanks?” said Coral.

  Benjamin was spooning food into a shallow bowl. “Soup looks thin tonight.”

  Coral took her turn with the serving bowl. It did look watery.

  “We need to step up scavenging,” said Doug. “Unless we want to take another step down in calories.”

  Abigail said, “Don’t you go volunteering for any extra trips, Doug.”

  “I hope he’ll add more teams, actually. Benjamin is new, so that helps. And if you ask me,
he could take a few off guard duty, too. We haven’t seen a stranger—except for these two—in months.” He blew on a spoonful of soup and ate it. “If I’m asked to go, of course I’ll go. We all need the food.”

  The table talked about scavenging for the rest of the meal, and where there might be more food. Coral hesitated to volunteer the information, but she finally decided it couldn’t hurt, so she told the story of the train of soup cans.

  The table grew hushed as she explained how they had explored the train tracks until she’d lucked upon a full car of food, four containers, packed with canned soup. “It would have been years worth of food for the two of us. For this group?” She did some quick calculating. “Still a month’s worth, even if you didn’t have anything else.”

  “How far away is it?” It was a voice from another table, a middle-aged man Coral hadn’t met.

  The whole room had grown silent and was listening. “I’m not sure. Maybe two hundred miles away?”

  “About that,” said Benjamin. “But it’s not there any more. I’d bank on it.”

  Abigail said, “Why not?”

  Coral answered. “There was an Army group. Or a false army, maybe.” Coral explained how they’d lost the food—or abandoned it to a superior force.

  “Where were they based?” said the same man.

  “No idea,” said Benjamin.

  “They came from the east. From this direction,” said Coral. “You’ve never seen them? Run into a sign of them at all?”

  Murmurs of denial came from every corner of the room. She had the attention of three dozen people.

  A woman at another table said, “Have you told Levi about this? Parnell?”

  Coral shook her head.

  Benjamin said, “I told them we’ve run into several groups of people, none you’d care to stumble across alone.”

  Coral felt strangely defensive. “Levi didn’t seem interested in asking me about who we’d met.”

  “That makes no sense,” Doug said. “Of course he’d want to know about potential allies—or enemies.”

  “I’d want to know,” said Beth, across Coral’s table. “Should we be worried?”

  “You should go to Levi right now,” another said. “I don’t like this.”

  “If you haven’t run into them in seven months, and if we haven’t again, I don’t see the hurry,” Coral said.

  “I’d better go find Parnell,” said Doug, getting to his feet.

  “Finish your soup,” Abigail said.

  “No, you can finish mine, hon,” he said. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

  If Coral was going to get dragged off for another meeting, she was going to finish her soup, too. She bent to the task, spooning up every drop, and then using a bare finger to scrape out the rest of the bowl.

  Benjamin was eating quickly too, a frown on his face. Was he upset with her?

  “Should I not have told them?” she said to him, trying to speak for his ears only.

  “I don’t see as it matters one way or the other.”

  “They seem angry at me.”

  “They’re afraid,” Benjamin said.

  She leaned forward and whispered, “I guess I shouldn’t mention the Humvees at this point.”

  “Not here.”

  Parnell came into the room, seeming irritated. “What’s all this?”

  “We were telling stories about scavenging food,” said Coral, still feeling defensive. “People freaked out when we mentioned losing some to these military guys.”

  Benjamin said, “But they may not have been real military.”

  “Where was this?”

  “North of Twin Falls a ways,” Benjamin said.

  “So Sun Valley?”

  “Maybe,” said Benjamin. “If you have a map with railroads marked, I might be able to pinpoint it.”

  Parnell blew out a breath and his tension eased a notch. “That’s a long ways.”

  “There’s an Air Force Base at Mountain Home,” said the man at the next table.

  “It wasn’t Air Force,” Coral said. “Army. Stenciled all over their stuff.” She didn’t want to discuss it here. The crowd and its emotions were making her nervous. “Do you want us to talk to Levi about it?” She pushed back from the table.

  “How long ago was this?” Parnell asked.

  “Gosh. Six weeks?” Coral looked to Benjamin.

  “Something like that,” he said, watching Parnell.

  “The two of you come with me,” he said. “Everybody else, stay calm. You heard them. This was all more than a month ago and miles away. There’s nothing urgent about this news.” He said to Doug in a low voice, “Try to keep everyone calm,” and then he made eye contact with Coral and jerked his head toward the door.

  When they were outside, he said, “Why didn’t you tell us this before?”

  “You didn’t ask,” said Coral. “Sorry I’m not a mind-reader.”

  “You know we care about our defenses.”

  “I was thinking of the people who actually hurt me out there. I nearly forget the ones I managed to avoid.”

  “Huh,” said Parnell. In silence, he marched them to a building Coral had never been in. The interior was dark. He flipped on a flashlight and led them down two corridors and to an apartment door, which he knocked on with the butt of the flashlight.

  A female voice called “Who is it?”

  “Parnell. I need to see Levi.” When the door opened a crack, he said, “Wait” to the two of them and slipped inside.

  Coral reached for Benjamin’s gloved hand and held on to it. “Why do I feel like I’ve been sent to the principal’s office?”

  “Because you have been?”

  “You’re here, too.”

  “Bad companions,” he said mournfully. “My mother always told me to look out for them.”

  She laughed, despite her nervousness. “Is there any reason not to tell him the truth about this?”

  “Not that I can think of.”

  “I wish we had more time to—” and then the door opened and she shut up.

  Parnell waved them in. Inside, it was so warm, Coral unzipped her jacket immediately. A stove in the corner was pumping out heat. On the edge of it was a shiny teapot. The place was full of furniture—good furniture, stuffed, soft, or real wood. It was likely the best of the best they’d scavenged over months. Two oil lamps lit the room. It would have been a modest place a year ago. Today it was the height of luxury.

  A woman in a silk kimono was walking through a door back into a bedroom, and a second later Levi came out of it, securing a tie on a plush robe.

  Coral understood why Benjamin had been troubled by this place. It was too much. Too much heat, filled with too much stuff, and too different from the way Abigail and Doug had to live.

  Levi sat in a recliner and made himself comfortable. Coral could see a peek of hairy shins and moved her eyes until she was looking at his face. He had the shadow of a new beard. His hair was mussed. “You have a story to tell?” He addressed the question to Benjamin.

  Coral spoke before Benjamin could. “It’s my story. Benjamin only knows it secondhand. Or rather, he only knows the important part of it secondhand.”

  “Go on then,” Levi said.

  Coral quickly detailed the finding of the soup and the day she’d heard the engine.

  That popped Levi out of his reclined position. “They had working trucks?”

  “A Hummer,” she said. “Stenciled with US Army.”

  “How?” Levi looked at Parnell. “How could those be working?”

  “We can ask Findlay.”

  Levi waved a dismissal of that idea. “He wouldn’t know more than you or I.” He peered intently at Coral. “You’re sure it was a Humvee? Gas engine?”

  “I assume gas, but it could have been diesel. You have a pencil, paper?” said Coral. When Parnell brought her one, she took it to the coffee table and knelt in front of it. She drew a rough sketch of the vehicle, and then one of the tread marks in the
snow. She handed it to Parnell.

  “Yup, a Hummer. Tracks are right.” He handed the paper to Levi.

  Levi looked at it and then up to her. “You’re not lying about this?”

  Coral threw her hands up at that. “Why would I be lying? What’s in it for me?”

  “I don’t know.” He looked to Benjamin. “You can confirm this?”

  “I saw none of it. But I saw her when she told me about it. She was afraid. And there was no reason to lie to me about it—their arrival there cost us easy food. Literally a ton of food.”

  Levi narrowed his eyes. “Why did you give it up so easily, then? How many of them, just two?”

  “Two reasons,” Coral said. “What they said about whores—slaves, really, and I didn’t want to become one. And their really big guns against my homemade bow.”

  He held out the paper. “Can you draw those guns?”

  She took the paper back. She was a passable artist in bio class, but technical drawings like this were not her forte. She tried to remember everything she could about the rifles. She had thought they were automatic, weapons of war. What had made her think that? No idea. “Benjamin,” she said.

  He came and squatted down beside her. “Yeah?”

  “When you had the 30-06, the scope was about here?” She drew a basic rifle shape and sketched it in.

  “Right.”

  “Mounted right to the gun, like right to the body of it?”

  “Like this.” He took the pencil and sketched in a couple lines.

  “There was more space on the army guys’. Like this.” Taking the pencil back, she drew an oval at the top, and put a rectangle on top of it to indicate the scope.

  “Okay, sure. That’s probably a handle there. Anything else different?”

  “There was bumpy stuff here, at the front. And it wasn’t wood.” She sketched the front in and thought about it. “I only got a glimpse, but I think it was fatter back here—the stock, is that the word?” She’d picked up some information from him when they’d had a pair of rifles and he was teaching her to shoot, but she was still shaky on the terminology of guns.