Page 41 of Bones
“How long has there been a council?” I asked as we moved down the dirt road.
Trey looked surprised and then delighted that I asked a question, and I immediately regretted it.
“Not too long.”
I didn’t miss the way his voice lowered carefully or the way he brought Marigold closer to me and Violet again.
“There was a rebellion about twenty years ago, and the unrest from it never died. About five years ago, Madame announced the council to try an’ make nice. She appointed Zana and the people elected Nemo.”
I wanted to ask more questions, but I pressed my lips together. If the council was a compromise, it seemed reasonable to assume they didn’t have a ton of power. I just needed to get a feel for the hierarchy here. I didn’t need all the details.
Trey waited for a moment, looking disappointed when I stayed silent, then urged Marigold to continue.
We moved South and Trey showed me the horse stables, the farm, the fields, and the small pens of livestock. Pigs and goats and several cows milled about in pens. Chickens roamed free everywhere. In the fields, people harvested the crops, a working tractor made hay bales, and fruit trees grew everywhere. There were mostly apple trees, but some pear, plum, and cherry trees as well. More people worked harvesting the fruit and packing it into crates.
It took us over an hour to reach the far south end of the hold. There we found the manufacturing district, a giant old warehouse housing a variety of ancient machinery as well as the butcher and the tannery. I knew before Trey pointed it out that we had to be near the slums. The wide dirt road changed to a narrow footpath choked with weeds. Trash and debris littered the ground. I understood why they were called rusters, as most of the ramshackle huts were made from rusted sheets of metal. A dirty child stood in front of one, coughing as she watched us pass.
I didn’t miss the way Trey’s expression darkened when we rode past the brothel.
I caught a glimpse of the second gate that led out of the Vault and my heart sank. It seemed to be permanently closed. I couldn't be sure from this distance, but it looked like it had been boarded shut.
“Last count we took, there were three hundred and seven people here,” Trey said as he urged Marigold on. “We don’t get many people coming from outside. Most of the people here have been here for generations.”
“What was this place?” I asked, glancing up at the watchtower again.
“Best we can guess it was built to be some kind of shelter for the end of the world. I don’t think they ever made it here though. It was just sitting here empty for gods know how long before the founding members stumbled on it. Whoever it was, they built the bigger buildings, some of the houses, the wall, and planted all the fruit trees.”
I glanced up at the apple tree we rode under. Small red apples weighed down the branches. Trey reached up and plucked one off the tree and then held it out to me with a grin. I took it from him and watched as he grabbed another, wiped the dust off with his sleeve, and then took a bite. I copied him and took a cautious bite. It tasted sweet and tangy.
Trey finished his apple, tossing the core to a group of chickens. I nibbled mine slowly, still nervous about being sick, but my stomach stayed calm. I’d been eating more solid food due to Sam’s pestering, and so far I hadn’t been sick. I never would’ve guessed from looking at him that Sam would be such a mother hen.
“Seems like your stomach is adjusting,” Trey said.
“Yeah.”
“That’s good.” He sure sounded genuine.
I didn’t know what to say, so I just bit into my apple again.
We passed a series of solar panels hooked up to a massive generator. The panels looked old, but well cared for, and Trey continued, “The builders also set up the solar power generator and all the plumbing. Originally there were workin’ toilets and everything, but the pipes were so eroded the founders decided to let them be and put in the outhouses. All the original buildings have water and electricity though, like the clinic. We keep the power turned off in most buildings during the day so we don’t drain the generator. Yours should be on all the time now, though. Me and Mac convinced Madame you would need good lighting to work.” He flashed me an easy grin.
We rode past a water spigot that a line of people stood at, waiting to fill up jugs and bottles. I’d seen a couple spigots scattered around. Most of the people waiting looked like they’d come from the slums, which made sense. I doubted they had any plumbing or electricity in those shacks.
Iwassurprised, however, to see Nemo walking toward the spigot carrying two large plastic jugs.
“Well howdy, Trey, Bones,” he said with a kind smile, and I tried not to stare at the awful scar on the side of his face. “What are you two up to?”
“Just givin’ Bones a tour of the Vault,” Trey said with an answering smile, then he looked at the jugs in Nemo’s hands. “Your water go out?”
“No.” Nemo set one of the jugs down to lift his hat and run a hand through his greying hair. “I’m just helpin’ some folks out who have trouble carryin’ these jugs.” He chuckled. “Old age comes for us all.”
Trey smiled back and asked him about the harvest, and I took the opportunity to study Nemo. I couldn’t guess his age from just looking at him. He could’ve been in his late forties or early sixties. The scar didn’t help. My eyes traced the puckered, rough flesh, wondering how it happened. It really did look like an animal took a bite out of the side of his face. He had weathered skin, but his dark blue eyes were clear and full of a similar warmth to Trey’s. He stood about as tall as Trey and lean and wiry. He met my eyes, and I flushed at being caught staring, but he just smiled.
“Well I better get a move on,” he said, lifting the empty jug again. “You two have a nice day, now.”
As we rode away, I realized I'd seen Nemo a few times now doing more manual labor than I'd expected a member of the council to be doing. I sure as hell had never seen Madame or Zana out working. I wondered if Nemo knew what Madame did down in that dungeon room. Feeling nauseous, I tossed my apple and tried to focus on Trey again.
A small market was set up on the East side of the hold, and next to that sat a huge, long building Trey identified as the kitchens and canteen. A series of small workshops billowed smoke from their chimneys to the North. I noticed the blacksmith I’d bandaged a few days ago. He glanced up from his work, smiled, and waved, which Trey returned and I pretended not to see.
