Survival Colony 9 Read online

  “We could search the shelter,” Wali proposed. “Once it cools down. We might find something. . . .”

  His voice broke and he turned away. Nessa wrapped him in her arms, holding him while he shook with sobs. Though I kept to myself what I had witnessed in the shelter, I doubted there’d be anything left to find.

  With all our attention focused on our fellow colonists, it didn’t occur to anyone right away to search for the body the Skaldi had arrived in. Personally, I’d have preferred not to know. Araz, though, insisted on it. So we spent another couple hours hunting through camp, starting at the site of the attacks and fanning outward from there. We found hundreds of footprints, most of them so blurred and confused they could have been anyone’s. Even Petra, who had followed wordlessly as my dad was incarcerated and as Araz led the clean-up operation, shook her head and shrugged over signs she normally proved so confident at reading. But nothing else turned up, no skin, no hair, no teeth, and eventually Araz called the search off. Maybe, like Danis and the three officers, there’d been next to nothing left of the body that had carried the creature to camp, and the chaos of the night had trampled that little bit into the dust.

  The sun beat down on us by the time we’d cleaned up as best we could. Exhaustion and grief rimmed everyone’s eyes. But today, there’d be no relief from the brutal afternoon, no break to spend seeking out shreds of shade. No time, either, to mourn. Our new leader and his handpicked accomplices had decided not to waste a moment before revealing their own master plan.

  The first step of which involved erasing the memory of the past.

  They marched my dad under armed guard to the central clearing, the same place he’d made his speech a couple days before. His guard, Wali, prodded him with a rifle to the back. My dad’s uniform had been blackened by fire and his limp seemed more pronounced than usual, but he held himself erect and struggled not to stumble as Wali roughly positioned him before us. Araz took the stage his commander had formerly occupied. A couple paces to the big man’s side, their arms crossed behind their backs, stood Kin and, to my disgust but not surprise, Yov. This was the first I’d seen of him since the day before, and looking into his smug face and gloating eyes made my blood boil.

  Araz motioned for quiet, needlessly, since everyone watched the proceedings in a silence bordering on trance. The driver’s squat face and brawny arms stood in sharp contrast to my dad’s lean, whittled frame. Araz was in his mid-thirties, so he would have been younger than I was now when my dad first took charge of camp. I’d always thought he admired and respected the man whose truck he’d driven for the past five years.

  “Laman Genn,” he said, “your failed leadership has placed the colony at dire risk. Your own officers, along with an innocent child and her mother, were the first to suffer from your indiscretion. We have come here to exact justice.”

  “On whose authority?” my dad said in a calm voice. Across the distance, his eyes sought mine. I looked away, unable to bear his scrutiny, unable to stand his humiliation.

  “On the authority of the dead,” Araz replied gruffly. Though deeper than my dad’s, his voice lacked the razor sharpness of his former commander’s. “On the authority of the survivors.”

  “A popular uprising,” my dad said, “normally relies on the will of the people.”

  For a moment Araz didn’t seem to know what to say to that. Then he spread his hands and smiled at the forty-some remaining colonists.

  “Anyone who supports the leadership of Laman Genn,” he said, “is welcome to join him now.”

  Nobody budged. Nobody even met his glare. The little kids danced over the felled buildings, focused only on their game. I wondered if they knew about Korah. I felt my foot lift hesitantly, but then, seeing my dad make a sharp movement with his hand, I stopped short.

  “Satisfied?” Araz said.

  “Only that people are scared, and grieving,” my dad said. “We suffered a terrible blow last night. But we can’t let our grief destroy who we are. We must—”

  “Enough speeches, Laman,” Araz cut him off. “If we’d had less talk and more action before, we might not be where we are now.”

  I saw a few heads nod around the circle, a few expressions of agreement or anger or contempt. Mostly, though, I saw people with strained faces and terrified eyes, people who didn’t know what to believe or what to do. Not like Wali, whose grief over Korah’s death had driven him to Araz’s side. Or Yov, who’d hated my dad for years. The others might side with the camp’s new commander, but only out of fear, not conviction.

  It occurred to me just then to wonder if my dad had ever had any friends in the colony. Any real friends. Or only followers.

  “Do you deny,” Araz directed his words at my dad, “that despite incontrovertible evidence pointing to a Skaldi presence in this compound, you failed to order quarantine procedures as is mandated in such cases?”

  “Quarantine lies at the discretion of the commander,” my dad said.

  “And do you deny,” Araz continued as if my dad hadn’t spoken, “that it was on your orders that our weapons were sequestered in a location accessible only to you?”

  “Guns,” my dad said, “would not have saved us last night.”

  “And do you deny further,” Araz rumbled on, “that it was on your authority that the colony was forced to remain, defenseless, in its current encampment?”

  “I deny your construction of events,” my dad said, but his voice had grown weary.

  “And so”—Araz ignored my dad’s answer once again and cast his voice at the audience—“while you armed yourself for an illusory conflict against your own people, you neglected your primary charge as commander of Survival Colony Nine, which is the protection of its members from a very real enemy, an enemy only constant vigilance can hope to defeat.”

  My dad said nothing, just shook his head slowly.

  Araz smiled as if the case was closed. “Enough talk,” he said again. “Justice will be done.”

  He turned briefly to Wali, who edged closer to my dad, his normally cool face murderous. Yov and Kin took a step forward to emphasize the threat.

  Araz turned back to face the crowd. He used my dad’s name, but he addressed the camp as a whole. “Laman Genn, for treasonous behavior, for dereliction of your duty as commander of Survival Colony Nine to protect and serve its people, for reckless endangerment of the colony leading to the brutal slaughter of six of our comrades, we, the leadership of Survival Colony Nine, sentence you to death by public hanging on the morning of the day following this.”

  A sharp intake of breath circled the camp. Even the people who had seemed to approve of Araz’s lecture fell into a shocked silence. I was too stunned to breathe at all.

  “That sounds like the way justice was served in the time before,” my dad said quietly. He looked up at the taller man with no fear in his eyes, only sadness. “Are you sure you want to do that, son?”

  “He’s not your son!” Yov nearly screamed. “You’re not our father!”

  The shrillness in his voice sent a cold wave down my back.

  My dad directed his mournful eyes at Yov. “You’re right,” he said. “I’m not.” I expected him to continue, to transform Yov’s outburst into another teachable moment, but he simply looked across camp at me, his craggy face tired and resigned.

  That was when Aleka stepped into the circle. I’d been so focused on my dad, I’d forgotten about her entirely.

  “This has gone on long enough,” she said. “Araz, you may have elected yourself leader of this camp, but you have no authority to order the execution of any of its members.”

  “The execution of traitors lies at the discretion of the commander,” Araz smirked. “Lieutenant.”

  Aleka had reached my dad’s side, but she didn’t look at him. She kept her eyes leveled at the colony’s new leader, who stood a head taller than her and easily tw
ice as broad. The tips of her fingers rested on the silver pistol hanging at her belt.

  “We will not become killers of our own,” she said.

  “No one would have died if not for this man,” Kin spoke up, gesturing scornfully at my dad.

  Aleka threw her frosty gaze on him. “We would all have died if not for this man. You owe your life to his protection. Many times over.”

  Kin scoffed and turned away.

  “Don’t think we’ve forgotten about you, Aleka,” Araz growled. “Where were you when the Skaldi was feeding on our comrades?”

  “Where were you when a child was crying out for release from living death?” she retorted. “I looked into the eyes of a girl I loved, and I watched my own flames burn her suffering away. Don’t talk to me about loyalty to the colony, comrade.”

  For a minute they stood face to face, hands on holsters, eyes locked on each other. No one in camp seemed able to move. Yov and Kin’s sneers lingered on their lips. My dad shook his head again, ever so slowly, as if he’d been through this all too many times before.

  At last I found the will to step forward. Seeing me move, my dad turned an angry, cautioning look my way. But I didn’t let it stop me this time.

  “She’s right, Araz,” I said. “You can’t do this.”

  “So speaks the traitor’s protégé,” Araz muttered, not taking his eyes off Aleka. “Better be thankful you’re not up here with him, boy.”

  “I am up here with him,” I said. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

  I stood shoulder to shoulder with Aleka. My heart pounded so hard I was sure everyone could hear it.

  “Always by your captain’s side, huh?” Araz said. “Even when he’s consorting with the enemy.”

  Aleka lifted her chin in a gesture that reminded me of Korah. I could almost feel her strength flowing into me.

  “The only enemy,” she said, “is the one who wields power without compassion.”

  Araz’s hand tightened on the handle of his pistol. His face seemed red enough to burst. But finally his shoulders relaxed and his arms fell to his sides. He looked around the circle at the eyes riveted on him.

  “This isn’t over,” he said in a low rumble. He gestured to Wali, who jammed his rifle into my dad’s back. “For his own safety and the safety of the colony, Laman Genn will be kept under house arrest until we’ve had a fair opportunity to discover his part in this. But I’m warning you,” he said to Aleka and me, or to the camp as a whole. “Anyone who interferes with the investigation or who offers assistance to the prisoner will suffer the same punishment. I don’t care who he is.”

  “That much is obvious,” Aleka said, just short of open sarcasm. It surprised me to hear even that small concession to annoyance in her steady voice.

  Araz pretended not to notice. “All personnel will report immediately to headquarters for the trials,” he announced. “This camp is now under quarantine, by order of its commanding officer.” A murmur passed through the crowd, but no one raised an objection. “Take him away.” Araz signaled to Wali, and Wali thrust his gun in my dad’s back until he started moving. The look of resignation and pity lingered in my dad’s eyes as he turned his head to go. This time, he made no attempt to hide his limp.

  While most of the camp made their way to headquarters, Aleka and I followed my dad to his jail cell. No one tried to stop us. Yov and Kin tagged along too, as did a few others—Petra, Tyris, the driver named Soon. They kept their eyes lowered and their mouths shut, and my dad gave no sign he knew they were there.

  At the door to his prison he turned to face the small crowd that trailed him. I still saw neither shame nor defiance in those dark eyes of his, only a profound sorrow and regret. The scar that seemed like it would never fade rested dark and grimy across his brow.

  Aleka placed a hand on her lips as if to blow him a kiss, but she didn’t.

  “You brought this on yourself, Laman,” she said.

  “We both know what I brought on myself, Aleka,” he said quietly. “But I am sorry I brought it on all of you.”

  Then he disappeared into the building and Wali’s back blocked him from view.

  Aleka stood silently, facing the empty doorway. Tyris and the others drifted toward headquarters. But Petra lingered, her cheeks puffed out, her eyes blinking a mile a minute. Then, out of nowhere, she laid a hand on Aleka’s arm. She gave it a gentle squeeze before stomping off after the others, arms and legs pumping like a demon.

  When we were alone, Aleka turned to me. Her eyes sharpened, but not with anger. “That was a brave thing you did.”

  “He doesn’t deserve to die,” I said. “Does he?”

  “We’ve had enough death,” she said. “The colony needs to come together, not tear itself apart. But I’m afraid that might not be enough to save him.”

  “What are we going to do?”

  “First we’re going to submit to the trials.” She held out a hand to silence me. “Compliance is our best cover for now. Beyond that, we wait. And hope. I’ll do what I can, Querry. But I’ll need you on my side. He’ll need you too.”

  I made her a promise, right then and there. A promise to support her, the colony, my dad. A promise to fight if I needed to, to stop the fighting if I could. I didn’t know if my promise would amount to anything, but I knew I had to make it. Even if everything my dad had done these past few days had been wrong, I knew that what he’d said to me last night had been right. The time had come to make a choice, and there was only one choice to make. More death couldn’t bring back the ones we’d lost. More death couldn’t restore Korah’s eyes, her dreams, her smile.

  I made the vow to Aleka, to my dad, maybe to myself. But in my mind’s eye I saw Korah. Korah still alive and beautiful. Korah still Korah.

  12

  Cast

  We broke camp at dawn.

  Everyone saw it coming. Nothing remained for us here but bad memories and a jagged hole in the ground. The burials we held were brief, perfunctory, as if it really was just dust and sand we were burying. Even the people who’d been most enthusiastic about my dad’s plan couldn’t wait to clear out now that his plan had so tragically failed.

  Other than the burials, we’d spent most of the previous day fulfilling Araz’s quarantine order. Everyone lined up outside headquarters and, one by one, submitted to the trials, which Araz and his cronies conducted in the same room where I’d seen Petra’s interrogation. I watched people come out shaking from the ordeal, mouths and hands bloody. The old woman had to be carried out by two colonists. When it was my turn, Yov took obvious delight in tightening the clamp on my fingers, jerking the pliers back and forth inside my mouth. But I didn’t say a word, kept the pain to myself. Whether he and Araz really cared about ferreting out Skaldi or just relished the chance to inflict torment on the camp was anyone’s guess. What they did to my dad when it came his turn I could only imagine.

  Everyone passed the trials. The only person Araz exempted was Keely, supposedly on account of his age. You couldn’t prove it by me, but apparently there were some perks to being the commander’s son.

  Once the trials ended and Araz pronounced the camp clean, he and Yov spent the dusk hours strolling the compound, deciding what to keep and what to leave behind. Without functional trucks, the second category far outweighed the first. The empty water barrels were the hardest thing to part with, but there was no way to imagine ourselves rolling them through the desert. We kept most of the stoves and propane tanks, blankets, bandages, pots, binoculars, tools, rope, both sets of walkie-talkies, some flints, and of course as much of the canned food as we could carry. We left behind all the tents, cots, and chairs, the fuel barrels, the most battered stoves, the emptiest propane tanks. Mika’s flashlight Araz wanted to keep, but it had turned into a twisted hunk of metal within the charred circle that used to be the body of Korah. Personal items, dolls’ heads and bal
let slippers, even the craziest of colonists didn’t dream of dragging along. The camp’s new leaders allowed us to preserve collection jars to hold water, but the contents of the jars they scattered to the dust and wind.

  And they kept our weapons. Accompanied by Yov, Wali, and the last officer from the old regime, Araz tramped up the stairs to the arsenal, came back down with arms full. The boxes of ammunition turned out to be emptier than anyone had suspected, and the fuel for the flamethrowers had run perilously low thanks to our new leader’s own reckless shooting. He went around camp and demanded we turn over any stray weapon, then distributed a pistol to each of his lieutenants, depositing the rest with Kin for safekeeping. He seemed to take special pleasure in forcing Aleka to hand over her silver pistol. My knife remained safely in my jacket pocket, though what good it would do me at this point I couldn’t imagine. But I kept it there. For luck.

  The day of our departure, I rose with the rest of the camp and did my part to pack our remaining supplies. Out of habit I checked my sleeping area, but nothing showed except the mark of my body on the dusty ground. I hadn’t seen Aleka since the evening before, when she’d walked off by herself toward the bomb shelter. My dad remained under guard, Wali standing at the door of headquarters with his rifle held stiffly across his chest. Araz had stationed himself in the front room of the same building, neither he nor Kin showing themselves the entire morning. They left the inspection to the fourth member of their cabal.

  With a grin on his face and a swagger to his step, Yov strode out of the command building to supervise the exodus. He strutted among us, poking into rucksacks, throwing out items at random. The little kids almost never cried, but whatever he did to them this morning left them in tears. When he snatched the old woman’s jar and flung it onto the pile of trash, I snapped.