Talen Read online

  “For a bag of grain?” she says quietly.

  “Three bags,” I reply with a stern look.

  She takes a deep breath, nods, and then collects three bags of grain.

  “That should keep you going for a while,” I say with a smile to the young woman. “I hope your brother feels better.”

  She stands unmoving with her mouth hanging open.

  “Do you need help carrying them?” I ask. When she doesn’t respond, I wave my hand in front of her face and chuckle. “Anyone in there?”

  “I don’t understand,” she finally says.

  “You said your brother was sick. He needs food, right? This should make a lot of bread or porridge or whatever you like. Should keep you going until he gets healthy again.”

  “But…why? What…what do you want from me?”

  “Well…” I pause, chuckling again. “I was kinda hoping for a loaf of bread if you end up with extra. I’m a terrible cook. But if you wove those baskets, you can probably weave mats too, right?”

  “Yes, I can.”

  “I could really use a long one that rolls up. You know, to sleep on. Could you make me one of those?”

  “That’s all?” Her eyes show her skepticism.

  “That’s all,” I say. “I end up sleeping on the ground quite a bit, and I need something that rolls up fairly small to carry with me.”

  “I can make that. It will take a couple of days though.”

  “Sweet!” I smile. “I’ll see you then.”

  “I live near the edge of town,” she tells me. “I’m Layshell.”

  “I know.” I wink at her. “I’ve seen you around.”

  Layshell glances over her shoulder before taking a step closer and speaking softly.

  “You’re the thief, right?”

  “Who, me?” I place my hand over my chest. “I’m just the head of lost and found. I find things and return them to their owners. Sometimes the owners are grateful and provide me with things I’ve lost in return.”

  She narrows her eyes and presses her lips together.

  “All right,” she says. “I’ll have a mat together for you the day after tomorrow.”

  “Great!” I shake her hand and watch her head off with the bags of grain in one of her baskets before heading back down the street.

  Near some concrete steps that no longer lead to a building’s entrance, a man stands on top of a wooden box, calling out to the inattentive crowd.

  “I’ve told you all before!” he yells. “It was a plot! A plot to eliminate the Naughts entirely! They huddled on the other side of the mountains in their bunkers and waited for the Great Eruption to wipe us out! When that didn’t work, their doctors spread the disease to our families! Did the children of Thaves die in the streets? No! It was your children!”

  “Shut your face, Keller!” yells a woman in a dusty dress. “What difference does it make now?”

  “They have water!” he screams down from his box. “They have medicine! Do they share it with those of us stuck in the valley? No! They transport it in the night to the plateaus above while we are left to freeze and starve in filth!”

  I scurry past with my chin against my chest and my face turned away from Keller’s wide, fiery eyes. I don’t need him seeing me and making a scene again. Thankfully, he is too engaged with the woman in the dress to notice me.

  “When the ash cloud came, they locked their doors and left us to perish in…”

  Once out of sight and earshot, I relax and continue down the street. I look left and right, trying to spot the newcomer I had seen the day before.

  The man crouches in front of two large wooden crates, trying to line them up evenly. Lying in the shade behind him are two large, plastic containers. Though the containers are closed, I can still smell the rich, dark scent of meat inside of them, and it makes my mouth water.

  He wears no bandana over his face, and he begins to cough loudly into the crook of his arm as I approach, unnoticed. I scrape the back of my foot on the bricks to announce myself, smiling. He startles; his eyes widen, and his shoulders tense. I smile and take a couple steps closer, pulling the sharp carving knife from my belt. I check the blade with my thumb as I look down at him.

  “Have you come to rob me, too?” He hunches his shoulders, looking defeated and lost. “I’ll warn ya—I’ve not much left to steal.”

  “No,” I say as I shake my head, wishing I had made my intentions clearer so as not to frighten him. “I saw you setting up your booth yesterday. I heard you tell your son that you’d make more money with a sharper knife—one that could cut the meat in more precise pieces. I think this one will do the trick.”

  I twirl the blade back and forth with my fingers, then offer it to the man, handle first.

  “It’s well balanced,” I tell him. “Sharp, too.”

  Slowly and cautiously, he reaches out and takes the knife from my hand. He furrows his brow as he studies it, flicking the edge of the blade with his thumb, just as I had.

  “I can’t afford this,” he tells me as he tries to hand the knife back.

  “No backsies!” I laugh and take a step backward, holding my hands up in front of me. “It’s a gift, friend. Welcome to Platterston!”

  He continues to stare at me incredulously as he holds the knife limply in his hand. He’s waiting for the other shoe to drop, so I decide to just move away from him until he realizes I’m really not here to steal his wares. I give him a little wave as I step backwards and start to turn.

  “Why would you do this?” he asks. “Why would you give me such a thing?”

  “I’m hoping you’ll sell me some good bacon,” I say with a smile, “once you have your shop set up.”

  “At a discount,” he says with a nod.

  I shrug and then start to head on my way.

  “What’s your name, boy?”

  “Talen!” I respond.

  “God bless ya, Talen!”

  “I rather doubt that,” I mutter under my breath. I glance over my shoulder and wave at him, still smiling.

  Chapter 2

  As I approach the end of the street, there is a noticeable shift in the structures and the people. Though nothing as grand as the houses on the other side of the wall, the structures are sturdier. The merchants have more expensive wares, and the street is generally cleaner. The scent of fresh-cut wood and hay fills the air.

  Two merchants I haven’t seen before catch my eye, and I meander in their direction, casually looking over the items in their carts while sizing them up out of the corner of my eye.

  A pale man with strong arms watches over his cart of vegetables. The food looks fresh, and I wonder how far he’s trekked. None of the land in this area is fertile enough to grow the melons and sweet potatoes he has on his cart.

  I listen to him talk to a prospective customer.

  “These look good,” the customer says. “Where did you get them?”

  “Came from the southwest,” the merchant says. “The earth isn’t burned there, so the soil is better, and there are fewer quakes.”

  He speaks with the accent of a Naught, but his grammar is too precise. Only Thaves are educated enough to use the term “fewer”—a Naught would have said “less.”

  “How far southwest?” I ask him.

  He looks over at me, eyes narrowed. He glances at the knives on my belt, but instead of the usual look of fear or at least wariness, his eyes hold disgust.

  “Far enough to have escaped the burn.”

  “On the other side of the second mountain range, then.” I take a step closer to him.

  “Yeah, sure.”

  “Did you buy another cart when you reached this side?”

  “Another cart?”

  “This cart here”—I tap the small front wheel of the cart with my boot—“wouldn’t have made it over the mountain terrain.”

  He glances down at the wheels and then back up again. Lies fall from his lips.

  “I had another cart, yes. It got me over
the mountain, but I…the cart slid down the last slope, and I had to replace it when I got to the bottom.”

  “And where did you get this one?”

  “There’s a settlement,” the merchant says as sweat begins to form on his brow, “right near the foot of the mountain. I purchased a new cart there.”

  “In Roundbottom?” I ask with a smile.

  “Yes, that’s the place.”

  Movement to my left catches my eye, and I glance over to see Jonny, the woodcutter, heading in my direction. His eyes are narrowed in suspicion, and I know he’s thinking the same thing I am.

  “Roundbottom only makes carts that can travel on the mountain slopes,” Jonny says, “not carts with these wheels. Their carts are made to be drawn by horses or oxen. Where’s your horse?”

  “I left him to graze in the woods.”

  “Nothing to graze on there,” Jonny says as he crosses his arms, showing off his biceps.

  “Roundbottom is also three days from here,” I say, “but there isn’t any wear on the wheels of your cart.”

  The merchant pauses for a long moment, then smiles.

  “I didn’t mean Roundbottom,” he says. “I meant that other settlement…what is it called?”

  “Oh! I know the town!” I lean against the merchant’s cart and look to Jonny with a grin. “What is that one called?”

  “Not sure which one you mean,” Jonny replies.

  “It was on the tip of my tongue…” I tap my chin with my finger. “Oh, yes! I remember! It’s called complete bullshit.”

  I stare into the merchant’s eyes. He stills for a brief moment, smiles, and then grabs the bottom edge of the cart. With great force, he lifts the cart up and pushes it toward us. The cart topples over; potatoes spill out, and melons go rolling across the bricks.

  The cart knocks me backward, but Jonny is closer to the edge and manages to jump out of the way. He takes off after the merchant who runs down the back of the line of carts and booths before making a sharp right turn toward the trees.

  I consider joining the chase, but both Jonny and the merchant are quickly out of sight. If Jonny doesn’t catch him, I’ll just have to track the imposter later. I reach down and pick up one of the rolling melons.

  “Who wants one?” I smile and hold it high above my head.

  Several people rush forward, grabbing melons and potatoes from the ground and hauling them back to their abodes. A little girl isn’t fast enough to get her own melon before the crowd claims them all, so I hand her the one in my hand. She smiles shyly, grasps the melon to her chest, and speeds off down the street.

  Jonny appears again, breathing hard. He stops in front of me and leans over, hands on his thighs.

  “I couldn’t keep up with him,” Jonny says, still panting. “Little bastard is a fast one.”

  “He won’t come back,” I say. “I saved you a couple of sweet potatoes.”

  “You continue to be my husband’s favorite,” he says with a chuckle. He takes the potatoes from my hand. “Why do they keep sending spies?”

  “They want to know our numbers,” I tell him. “They want to know how fast we’re dying off. They want to know how long it will be before they can take up more territory without any resistance.”

  “They’re not taking my home! They’ll have to kill me first!”

  “Don’t put it past them.”

  “Is there anything we can do?”

  “Keep your eyes open,” I tell him. “Pay attention to any newcomers, and let me know if something seems strange.”

  “Will do. Thank ya, Talen.”

  We shake hands, and I am off again. I pass the merchants and follow the road around a curve to another residential part of Plastictown.

  Much like the edge of town, discarded plastic compacted into bales have been stacked together to make walls, but the abodes are slightly larger here. Tarps on top make waterproof roofs and the insides consist of rooms made from tents and additional plastic. At the end of the brick roadway, a group of tents form a semicircle in front of the rocky edge of the river. On the other side of the river is what was a glorious skyline before the Great Eruption but is now a pile of dangerous, shifting debris. The tents are the official eastern edge of the west side of Plastictown, and the last tent on the left is my destination.

  “Still awake?” I call out softly, using my fingers to rustle the fabric around the doorway. “And alone?”

  “I’m closed!” a female voice calls out.

  “That’s what I was hoping for!” I call back a little louder.

  “Oh, it’s you! Come on in, Talen!”

  I duck my head and enter the tent.

  Inside is cool but still much warmer than outside and inviting enough. Candles light up the comparatively large, single-room dwelling, filling the air with the scent of burning wax. Toward the back is a large pile of bedding surrounded by sheer fabric to create the illusion of another, more private room. Right in front of the bedding is a young, attractive woman wearing a sheer gown, open from her neck to her bellybutton. Though her breasts are technically covered, the fabric is thin enough to see the dark shape of her nipples.

  “Hey, Ava.”

  “Come for a spin?” She winks at me and tosses her silky blonde hair over her shoulder.

  “You know I’m not the type to pay.”

  “What if I didn’t charge you?” She tilts her head seductively and bats her eyelashes.

  “You, not charge?” I click my tongue at her. “I don’t think that’s the kind of reputation you want to have. And I’m not sure I could handle all that jealousy if you did.”

  “People jealous of you, or you jealous of others?”

  “Either.” I think for a moment. “Maybe both. Whichever the case, it’s probably best avoided.”

  “Probably so.”

  “I’d take a night in a warm bed, though.” I try to give her my best puppy dog look.

  “Oh, would you, now?” She folds her arms across her chest. “And why would I agree to that?”

  I slip my hand into my pack and bring out the apple. With a grin, I toss it to her, and she catches it reflexively. I watch her eyes get wide with amazement.

  “Where did you get this?” she whispers.

  “Oh, you know,” I say as I crouch down in front of her, “found it. Figured it was yours since you were talking about them a while back.”

  She takes a bite into the apple’s crisp flesh and moans.

  “Keep that up,” I say, “and they are going to think you’re giving it to me for free.”

  We laugh, and Ava pats the bed beside her. I kick off my boots and remove my socks. I drop my jacket along with my belt and shirt before moving toward the bed.