Date: 2019-02-27 08:00:00+00:00
Description: Two people and a dog wandering through post-apocalyptic America. Where will they go next? After the events of The Curse, Eda and David have left New York in search of new horizons. But a new threat lies in wait for the travelers and it’s lurking in a swamp in the former state of New Jersey. A mysterious cult. An all-powerful demon called Uncle Sam. A giant bombsite turned mega-crater. And the terrifying and sinister figure at the heart of it all… The Sinners is the second book in the After the End Trilogy. If you love Post-Apocalyptic, Dystopian and Horror fiction – then you don’t want to miss

The Sinners

(After the End Trilogy #2)

Mark Gillespie

This is a work of speculative fiction. All of the events and dialogue depicted within are a product of the author’s overactive imagination. None of this stuff happened. Except maybe in a parallel universe.

Copyright © 2019 by Mark Gillespie
www.markgillespieauthor.com

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

First Printing: February 2019

Cover by Vincent Sammy

Contents

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Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

The End

Dear Reader

The Future of London

The Exterminators Trilogy

WaxWorld - A Sci-fi Thriller

GrimLog (Tales of Terror)

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For Bill…

1

“Shut up,” Eda whispered. “Just shut up, will you?”

David’s voice came back at her – a faint vapor of familiarity drifting across the darkness. Somewhere in the close confinement of the tunnel, his whisper turned into a shout.

“What did you say?” he said. “Eda?”

Eda shook her head. She knew he couldn’t see her but she did it anyway.

“Nothing,” she said, staring into the pitch-black.

“Were you talking to me?” David said.

Eda shook her head again. “No.”

“But what…?”

“Forget it David,” she snapped. “I thought I heard something that’s all. Let’s get moving, alright? This place is…never mind, let’s go.”

“Sure.”

Eda kept walking. It wasn’t the first time she’d imagined footsteps or voices on her tail and it wouldn’t be the last either. Ever since they’d set foot in the Lincoln Tunnel things hadn’t felt right. A permanent unease had lingered amongst them like an uninvited companion. Where was the relief Eda had been hoping for? She was out for God’s sake. Where was the happiness, the joy at breaking free from New York? Damn it. Wherever the elation was, it wasn’t in the tunnel alongside the travelers. But there was something else in there, Eda was sure of it on a purely instinctive level. In the absolute silence, she could hear it breathing, just a few paces behind her. Walking when she walked. Stopping when she stopped. Sometimes she felt a gust of breath blowing on the back of her neck.

But whenever she investigated, there was nothing there. Nothing at all.

It was the darkness playing tricks with her mind. She had to keep telling herself that over and over again, repeating it like a mantra.

The alternative was to go crazy.

Thank God they were more than halfway through the one and a half mile long tunnel, which was located under the Hudson River. This creepy underwater bridge, shrouded in darkness, would transport them from Manhattan, New York, to a place that David apparently knew well, somewhere called Weehawken, in the old state of New Jersey.

“Frankie Boy?” Eda said. “Are you still there?”

Silence.

“Frankie?” she said, a hint of panic creeping into her voice. “Don’t wander off for God’s sake. Not in here of all places.”

Then she heard it. The sound of the dog’s paws skipping over the roadway towards her. A light tap-tapping, accompanied by the repetitive sniffing noise Frankie made as he took in some new, unfamiliar scent in the air.

“Good boy,” she said. She reached down and found his back. It was a tiny oasis of warmth inside the icy tunnel.

“How long David?” she asked.

“We’re nearly there,” David said. His voice sounded further away, like he’d kept on walking while Eda had waited for Frankie Boy to catch up.

“I think this place is getting to me,” Eda said. “It’s like some giant haunted cave, don’t you think?”

“Try to relax,” David said. “Take slow, deep breaths. It’s just the tunnel playing tricks with your mind. I was the same the first time I came through here and I did it alone. Not being able to see two inches in front of me – it nearly drove me bonkers.”

“Bonkers?” Eda said.

“Yeah, you know. Mad. Crazy. Off my head.”

“Never heard that one before,” Eda said.

David laughed and it felt like the tunnel was shaking underneath them. “I grew up with an Englishman remember,” he said.

“Yeah,” Eda said. She wasn’t in the mood to talk about David’s hybrid accent or his upbringing. “Well I’m right on the edge of goddamn bonkers. How long?”

“You just asked me that,” David said.

“Yeah?”

“Not long to go,” David said. “Hopefully no more than fifteen minutes if we keep a steady pace. Trust me, it’s worth it if we keep pushing on and don’t think too much. We’re nearly out. And once we are, New York and the Complex will feel like a bad dream.”

Eda groaned. Fifteen minutes. It might as well have been fifteen days.

They kept walking.

About a minute later, Eda heard David curse up ahead as he walked into the back of yet another abandoned car. It wasn’t the first time either one of them had had a collision. There were a lot of cars sitting in the tunnel in silence, like a fleet of ghost ships from a distant era. Eda imagined that people back then, not knowing what else to do, had driven into the tunnel to hide from the madness of the city. Now their vehicles were still here, cloaked in darkness. Sometimes Eda caught a glimpse of an impending trunk at the last minute and barely avoided a collision. Mostly she knew nothing about it until she’d walked into the metal and taken the hit. Pain took a backseat to frustration. It was something else to slow her down. Afterwards, Eda would use her hands, feeling her way around the car, trying not to think about what might still be inside.

That was easier said than done.

Judging by the stale rot that permeated throughout the tunnel, they were walking through a giant, underground graveyard.

There were patches of occasional debris under their feet. As Eda and David stepped over these, a sickening crunching sound filled the air. It was a blasphemous noise. Eda had by now climbed over a small mountain of bones and if the ghosts of all those car owners were still in the tunnel then surely she’d pissed them off big time.

It was enough to make her walk faster.

When the light of the exit finally appeared up ahead, Eda groaned with relief. Throwing caution aside, she hurried outside and reveled in the gray, overcast sky that greeted them. They both stood there for a while, basking in the dull light of either late morning or early afternoon.

It had been a long day so far.

“Thank God,” Eda said. She ran a hand through her long dark hair. Despite the cold she’d felt inside the tunnel, her forehead was hot and damp with sweat.

There was also a dull pain throbbing around Eda’s temple. That was the spot where Lex had punched her. Her jaw ached too. That brutal struggle in Manhattan was still fresh in body and mind and despite what David had said earlier, it would be a long time before Eda could simply pass it off as a bad dream.

At the very least they were out of New York. That was official.

“Alright,” Eda said, adjusting her eyes back to daylight. She looked over at David, who was no longer just a voice in the tunnel alongside her. His wounds from New York added up to no more than a few minor facial cuts. He was smiling, clearly in good spirits.

Frankie Boy strolled ahead, his black tail wagging gently back and forth.

“I think you’re in the best shape out of all of us,” Eda said, looking at the dog. “Talk about not giving a shit.”

She turned back to the gaping jaws of the Lincoln Tunnel – three black holes, toothless and bleak, that dared to invite them back to New York. Above each tunnel, a huge advertising billboard looked down at the travelers. The images on each billboard had long since faded into insignificance.

“Let’s go,” Eda said.

The road led uphill into Weehawken. There were more cars sitting on the road as it curved steeply away from the Lincoln Tunnel entrance. At first glance, it looked as if this pack of vehicles had just emerged from the New York side and had paused for a moment before continuing on into New Jersey. But in reality, these rust-covered carcasses had been lying there for years. Going nowhere.

Eda didn’t get too close.

“So this is home for you?” she asked David as they walked up the hill.

“Yeah it is,” David said. “Not Weehawken specifically but New Jersey. I’ve moved about over the years but somehow I always end up coming back home. It’s like a magnet. It pulls me in and I guess...”

“Frankie!” Eda said, cutting David off.

The big German Shepherd had strayed too close to the abandoned cars. Although it was unlikely there was anything to fear – at least anything that was alive – Eda didn’t want to take the chance that someone else, someone who wasn’t just a pile of dust and bones, was waiting inside one of the vehicles to ambush the newcomers. Dead bodies were harmless in comparison to the living.

Even though they’d left the Lincoln Tunnel behind, Eda still had the strange feeling that she was being watched. As she climbed the hill into Weehawken, her claustrophobia had morphed into a sudden attack of agoraphobia.

She walked faster.

“Are you alright?” David asked, catching up with her. “You look a little bit pale if you don’t mind me saying.”

“I’m just getting used to things,” Eda said. “I thought a change of scenery would be easier than this.”

“You’ll be alright,” David said.

Eda looked at him as she walked at speed. “So where do we go from here?”

“I know a place where we can lay low for a few days,” he said. “Once we get there we can put our heads together and come up with a long-term plan.”

“What is it?” Eda asked.

David smiled. “It’s my quiet place,” he said. “Somewhere green, without a ruined car or a smashed window in sight.”

“Sounds good to me,” Eda said. “Is it far?”

“There’s a bit of walking involved. But it’ll be worth it, I promise.”

“Alright then,” Eda said. The thought of a long walk didn’t bother her, not as long as it was taking them further away from New York. A quiet place sounded just right.

The rotten scent that Eda had encountered in the tunnel lingered in the air. It was like the breeze was coated in decay; now it followed them like a shadow.

They made their way onto a large road, which the signs called the 495. After that they walked west for about an hour. Eda’s legs became tired quickly but the thought of David’s quiet place encouraged her to push past the fatigue, to say nothing of exhaustion. The quiet place had turned into a fabled paradise in Eda’s imagination. It was glorious. Nothing she saw along the way of a shattered world could discourage her from the ideal of perfection that awaited them.

They walked slowly, veering off the 495 and traveling through a town called Secaucus. It felt small compared to the enormous skyscrapers of Manhattan but despite superficial appearances, the emptiness inside was identical. Broken-down vehicles lined either side of the street, some of which had the driver and passenger side doors lying open, as if inviting further investigation. Eda declined the invitation.

Shattered glass peppered the sidewalk. Eda stepped over the gleaming, crystal-like shards and was immediately reminded of the crunching noises she’d heard inside the Lincoln Tunnel when she’d walked over the bones of the dead.

Eda noticed that David’s initially brisk pace was slowing down too. His feet looked like they were sinking into the road with each step.

“You getting tired?” Eda said. She hoped he’d say yes.

David nodded but he kept his eyes on the road ahead. “I forgot how far it was to the quiet place from the tunnel.”

“The adrenaline is wearing off,” Eda said. “I know the feeling. Hey, how about this? Maybe we should rest somewhere in between here and your quiet place. There’s no rush to get there, right? It doesn’t have to this afternoon. It doesn’t even have to be today when you think about it. Not unless this quiet place of yours is moving.”

“Yeah okay,” David said. “We’ll keep moving for now and stop in a little while. Okay with you?”

“Sure,” Eda said.

They walked through Secaucus and at the edge of town, came to a long bridge that crossed over a broad, dark blue river. Once they were standing on the bridge, Eda knew that they’d found a good place to stop. She felt safe up there. It was the elevation – standing atop the bridge, Eda and David were high above all the houses and cars and everything else of the old civilization that stretched out for miles on either side of the river. Nothing could touch them on the bridge. It was like standing on the roof of a skyscraper in New York, safely out of reach of danger.

Looking down, the water was calm and tempting. But Eda would never go in to cool off, not even on the hottest of days. She knew that large rivers such as this one had been used as mass graves during the war years. Below the surface, the riverbed was fat with human remains. The surface, so blue and appealing from afar, would smell old and rancid.

The water level was high at the moment and Eda wondered how many times this particular river had spilled over its banks and rampaged through the empty town with no spectators to witness it wreak havoc upon the neighborhood. Even if it flooded today, Eda, David and Frankie Boy would be safe up on the bridge.

“What about here?” Eda said, calling out to David. “This is the best hotel I’ve seen so far in all of New Jersey.”

“Here?” David said. He looked around, seemingly unconvinced. “You don’t want to cover a little more ground before we stop?”

Eda shook her head. “We’ve got food, water and blankets,” she said. “It’s safe up here. I say we sleep and recover a little and then start up again early in the morning. Your quiet place – it isn’t going anywhere is it?”

“You really want to stop here?” David said.

“Yeah,” Eda said. Her eyes roamed over the bridge and nearby surroundings, and she was yet again assured of its strategic advantages. They wouldn’t find anything better than this. Anything safer. “If we stop in the middle it offers us a great vantage point. We can see for miles on all sides and if anyone or anything shows up to say hi, we’ll see them before they can get close.”

“Still think we’re being watched?” David said, smiling.

Eda shrugged. “I need to sit down,” she said. “Fully digest everything that’s happened today. You know?”

David nodded. He slid Eda’s backpack off his shoulder and held onto it by a single strap. They’d taken it in turns to carry the bag so far; it contained all their supplies, a modest bundle of food and water and amongst other things, two rolled up blankets, which had been fastened to the front.

They walked to the middle of the bridge and sat down on the road. Eda put her back up against the sturdy, stone barrier and sighed with relief.

David ran a hand back and forth over his tired calf muscles. “I’ll never get up now,” he said.

“No need to get up,” Eda said. “We rest. Start again in the morning.”

They ate the leftovers that Eda had taken from the Waldorf Astoria. Before the hastily assembled farewell ceremony, Eda had helped herself to as much food as she could carry – enough for a few days split between the two humans and Frankie Boy.

She offered some cold vegetable stew to Frankie Boy who devoured it in seconds. Then she poured out a small bowl of water, which she set it down on the road.

Conversation was sparse. Exhaustion settled into their bodies and minds and when the small talk began to dry up, no one went out of their way to prolong it. Both David and Eda lay down on their blankets. It wasn’t much of a bed but as far as Eda was concerned it was a slice of heaven on Earth. She would sleep well here.

“Wait till you see it,” David said. His voice was sluggish as he drifted off. He was looking up at the gray sky that shielded the stars from view. “I should never have left the quiet place. Everything’s so much better there. You’ll see…”

“Then why did you leave?” Eda said. Her eyelids were closing over fast.

“Itchy feet,” he said. “Curiosity. Adventure. The usual. Same things that always get me into trouble.”

A minute later, David was snoring lightly. Eda rolled over onto her left side and saw Frankie Boy curled up beside her on the blanket. The last thing she did before falling asleep was slide her dagger out of the crumpled backpack. After that, she closed her eyes, wrapping her fingers around the handle and laying the weapon flat against her chest.

* * *

In the morning they had a quick breakfast, gathered their belongings and set off towards the quiet place.

Eda felt refreshed after the long rest. As they traveled in a westerly direction, she set a swift pace that David matched stride for stride. There was a renewed sense of purpose in the traveling party now that the horrors of New York had faded ever so slightly further into the background.

Frankie Boy walked a short distance ahead, probing the surroundings like a well-trained scout.

After about six hours on the road they reached the city of Paterson. Paterson looked like it had been hit by a bomb and of course it had many times over. But walking through the city, Eda thought the destruction looked fresh – like it could have happened yesterday. Nobody had tried to rebuild over this since it happened. Debris of all kinds – bricks, stone and glass – were scattered all over the streets and sidewalks. The burned out shells of cars were everywhere, some of them skeletal and barely upright.

David stopped in the middle of the street. There was a strained expression on his face as he spun around, taking it all in.

“I remember this,” he said. “When it happened. All the noise and confusion – the shouting and screams. The worst screams you could ever imagine Eda. It all happened right here.”

“You lived in this city?” Eda asked.

He looked at her with an embarrassed smile.

“Think so,” he said. “I can’t remember to tell you the truth. All I remember is running with a gang of street kids in a place that looked just like this. A big city in New Jersey – how could I forget the name?”

“I grew up in a city,” Eda said. “I don’t remember what it was called either.”

David sighed. “They were right when they called it the wild years,” he said. “The things I saw Eda. I’ve never been so scared in all my life and yet I had to act tough if I didn’t want to be one of the victims. There was no way I could have kept that up for long. It would have worn me down sooner or later.”

“You got out?” Eda said.

“Yeah,” David said. “Thank God, one day someone found me. He took me and some of the other kids and got us the hell out of here. He saved our lives. Took us somewhere better.”

He looked at Eda.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure,” Eda said.

“Are you really going to do what Shay asked you to do?” he said. “Are you going to become an ambassador for the Complex, find men and lure them to their death in New York? I mean, it’s none of my business but why should you? You’re free of those women now – you can do whatever you want without having to satisfy Shay’s bloodlust.”

Eda shook her head.

“I don’t know,” she said. That was the truth. She hadn’t really stopped to give it much thought since leaving Manhattan. “I’m not going to go out of my way to look for anyone. But at the same time, if I ever meet some gaping asshole who deserves it then why not? It’s an ugly way to die, that’s for sure.”

David nodded. He pointed to the backpack on Eda’s shoulder.

“Want me to carry that for a while?”

“Nah,” Eda said. “I’m good.”

“How are our supplies?”

“We’re not going to starve or die of thirst just yet,” Eda said. “But we’d better think about topping up soon or we just might.”

David’s eyes fell on the road that led west. “We’re close to our destination.”

“So tell me,” Eda said. “What exactly is this quiet place of yours? You’re not giving much away you know.”

“I’m not?”

“No.”

David laughed, jerking a thumb over his shoulder.

“There’s a massive stretch of wetland that way,” he said. “It’s like a big wooded swamp, that kind of thing.”

Eda shrugged, which made David laugh again.

“It’s about as far from New York City as you can imagine,” he said. “There’s a beautiful river that runs through it, trees, flowers, and things growing like that. Great Piece Meadows – that’s what it was called before the war. I call it my quiet place. It’s not like anything we’re walking through right now. Not like Paterson or New York. In the quiet place, everything looks just like it did before everything happened. You’d never even know there’d been a war. Nature takes care of you in there. There’s deer. Rainwater. It’s got everything you’d ever need to survive.”

They traveled west out of Paterson and onto a long stretch of blacktop highway with surprisingly few vehicles on it. It wasn’t long before Eda saw a vast ocean of trees looming in the distance. This blurry, mirage-like vision was every bit as inviting as the bright blue river of Secaucus. This time however, Eda was going to take up the invitation.

After walking for another twenty minutes straight, they came to a small, winding road that ran parallel to the highway. David led them along this road until gradually they began to enter the wetlands of Great Piece Meadows.

But before the swamp took over completely, the travelers passed by the remains of a few shack-like houses. These tiny abodes were lined up neatly on both sides of the road, the last hint of old civilization to be found in the region. From there, the path into the swamp narrowed further and the trees got larger and closer. For Eda, it was like walking into a different world and so far at least, it felt welcoming in a way she’d never encountered before. New York, Paterson and all the concrete skylines in her mind began to recede slowly, figments of a dream fizzling out in the morning sunshine.

Muddy puddles leaked out of the lush greenery and spilled onto the road. It was as if the swamp was trying to escape from itself, one tiny piece at a time.

“Great Piece Meadows,” Eda said, stepping over one large trail of mud. “So this is it? This is your quiet place?”

There was a smile on David’s face. His eyes drank in the environment, filling him up.

“You can see the appeal right?” he said. He stopped and held up a hand. “Listen. What do you hear?”

“Nothing,” Eda said.

“Exactly. Best sound you’ll ever hear.”

“Uhh, sure,” Eda said. “It’s different, I’ll give you that much. And right now, anything different is good.”

David kept walking. “Don’t worry,” he said. “You’ll like it here.”

It was a while before either one of them spoke again.

Eda peered into the swamp from the road. She couldn’t see anything in between all the trees and the long, overgrown grass. It looked like the Meadows didn’t want to be found.

“You really lived in there?” she asked.

“I sure did,” David said. “It’s not quite as empty as it looks from out here on the road. There are a lot of animals living in the Meadows. There’s life everywhere you look, even if you can’t see it at first. I have weapons stored away – bows, knives. I’ve got plenty of traps too. We can…”

“Shit!”

Eda jumped when Frankie Boy started barking. She knew that bark, fierce and frightened all mixed into one head-splitting noise. It was a warning. The dog’s body was as stiff as a board, the tail erect. He was facing the swamp head-on, barking at a blanket of trees and jungle grass.

Eda crouched down beside him. Her heart sped up as she stared into the swamp.

“What is it Frankie Boy?” she said. “There’s nothing there.”

David stepped over beside them and Eda straightened back up. They stood side by side, frozen on the narrow path, staring into the swamp because they knew that Frankie Boy wasn’t barking at nothing. But they couldn’t see anything, just a dense blanket of foliage swaying back and forth to a gentle breeze.

“C’mon boy,” Eda said. She patted Frankie on the back several times, hoping he’d snap out of it. “Let’s keep walking. We’ll go…”

Eda was interrupted by a rustling noise in the distance. Like something big pushing through the trees.

They heard the distinct sound of twigs snapping under feet.

“David?” Eda said. “Is that a deer?”

David shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

Eda looked harder, not allowing herself to blink.

There was something there, directly up ahead. A man’s face had appeared in a small gap in between a couple of bloated tree trunks. He was looking at them through the gap, staring at the travelers with a calm, unblinking expression. The man was so perfectly still that Eda thought she might have been looking at a statue. And then he moved. It was like watching something step out of a dream and set foot in the material world – a two-dimensional image slowly coming to life in the three-dimensional realm.

More twigs snapped.

The man came through the Meadows, gliding towards them like a phantom.

And he was smiling.

2

The man was dressed in a brown and green camouflage jacket and matching pants. His black boots, along with the rest of his clothes, were drenched in layers of age-old mud. Eda’s first impression upon seeing the manner of his clothing was that he was a former military man. Looking past the clothes and more at the man however, she suspected that wasn’t true. It was pure instinct. Eda still retained memories of the street platoons from the wild years, just before they lost control of the streets to the mob. They were big, scary looking men and women. To a frightened little girl they were like giants and Eda used to spend hours watching them patrol the streets in their khaki-colored tight tops. She recalled their obscene biceps bulging underneath the sleeves as they clutched onto their semi-automatic weapons with grim determination.

The most frightening thing of all about the soldiers was the blank, robotic look in their eyes. It was like a uniform stare that had been programmed into every single one of them. Whatever they’d absorbed in those dead eyes, it wasn’t pretty.

The man in the swamp didn’t have that killer look about him. He was a bag of bones. Emaciated. It looked like a stiff breeze would knock him off his feet and keep him down for days.

As he walked towards the road, Eda and David kept perfectly still.

The man’s skull was bald, at least on top. In contrast, lank gray hair spilled down from the back and sides, flowing beyond his shoulders. His appearance was odd and incomplete – it looked like he’d been interrupted while shaving his head and that he’d never gotten around to finishing the job.

“Hello friends,” he said.

He was still walking forward, very slowly.

“Don’t be alarmed. I mean you no harm.”

He held up both hands like he was surrendering to the travelers. His voice was nasally and he possessed a distinct accent. The accent wasn’t unlike David’s but then it wasn’t quite the same thing either. Eda imagined that from now on she’d have to get used to hearing things like that – different accents, new words – if she was going to travel the country.

David nudged her on the forearm.

“Look,” he whispered. “Behind him.”

There were five other people standing where the bald man had first appeared. They might as well have materialized out of thin air. There were three men and two women, all in either their forties or fifties. Eda noticed they were all dressed in the same camouflage clothes as the bald man. Likewise, their hands and faces were freckled with mud.

They came forward, staying close behind their leader. Moving at a careful pace, they approached the edge of the narrow road where Eda, David and Frankie Boy were waiting. Eda felt uneasy at this slow motion welcoming committee. Watching these people slip through the cracks in the swamp, it was like witnessing the emergence of a long lost humanoid species that had been living apart from the rest of the world.

Eda tilted her head back and inhaled. There was a pungent, not unpleasant odor in the air. It was the smell of dirt after heavy rain.

“Welcome to our home,” the bald man said.

He stepped onto the road and glanced briefly in both directions, as if checking to see if there was anyone else catching up.

Eda took a closer look. The man’s skin was an unpleasant, withering gray. This combined with his skeletal frame and bug-like eyes, gave him the appearance of a freshly reanimated corpse. When he looked at Eda, it took everything in her power not to turn away.

He pointed a finger at her, then at David and Frankie Boy.

“Three souls,” the bald man said with a trying-too-hard smile. His canine teeth were crooked and long. “Is that all?”

Eda nodded. “We’re travelers, just passing through.”

The man raised a wild-looking eyebrow. “Passing through here? In the Meadows?”

“Yeah,” Eda said. “Why not?”

“What brought you down here?” he asked.

Eda couldn’t think of an answer. David wasn’t in a rush to speak either.

“Food?” the bald man said. “Did you come here because you wanted to hunt game on our land?”

David glanced at Eda and then turned back to the man.

“Your land?”

“Yes,” the bald man said. “Our land.”

“Okay,” David said. “ Well then, I’ve spent some time out here before, on and off. I suppose we came back to rest and to hunt a little.”

“And yet no bow that I see,” the bald man said. He was pointing back and forth between Eda and David. Eda wondered if the pointing would ever end. Every time he did it, she felt like she was being stabbed by a pocketknife.

David shook his head. “No,” he said. “But I have other tools hidden in the…”

“And the dog of course,” the bald man said. Now he was pointing at Frankie Boy again although he kept his distance. “Yes, yes. I’d say that creature right there is your best chance of catching a meal in this swamp of ours. The animals are plenty, but they’re sly and they know how to survive. But I dare say that dog would make a fine hunter.”

“A fine hunter,” Eda said. “Sure.”

The bald man clapped his hands together in one resounding strike.

“But there’s no need for you to hunt,” he said. “Or the dog. You can eat with us and that’s not something we’re offering to just anyone these days. But I trust people of your generation. I trust them far more than I would strangers of my own. You were children when it happened. You know nothing of the corruption that led up to our demise.”

He smiled.

“What I’m saying is, that I’m willing to help you if you are of course willing to trust us.”

It was David who spoke.

“Excuse me,” he said. “But how long have you been living here? I’ve never seen anyone else in the Meadows before. I always thought it was deserted.”

“Most of us have been in here since the wild years,” the bald man said. His large, swollen balloon eyes expanded as he looked intently at the younger man.

“I always thought I was alone in here,” David said.

“Or perhaps just left alone,” the bald man said. “Hmmm? It’s a big place the Great Piece Meadows and there’s room enough in here for those who are peaceful and non-threatening to our particular way of life. But there are so few visitors these days that we don’t really encounter alternative viewpoints. And we’re quite happy with that.”

Eda glanced back down the long stretch of road. The highway wasn’t too far away, not if they turned around and started walking now. The quiet place wasn’t as quiet as David had thought it was. Bad luck. Maybe they were better off sticking to the roads and trying to find somewhere else to lay low for a while.

“Come with us,” the bald man said. His small flock of companions stood a few feet behind him, lined up in a neat row. They were all smiling. All silent.

“Stay a few hours or spend the night if you wish,” the man said. “Eat and rest. You’re more than welcome. The end of civilization doesn’t mean we have to forget good manners. Right?”

David looked at Eda.

“What do you think?” he asked.

There was no point in pretending.

“I don’t think so,” Eda said. She blurted the words out and was well aware of how blunt it sounded. After an awkward pause, she looked at the strange man and the others. The camouflage posse. They were so uniformly polite and attentive in response to her bluntness. She struggled to find the right words – to articulate how uncomfortable she felt in a way that wouldn’t cause offence.

“Thank you for the offer though,” she said. “But maybe we should just keep walking. Take advantage of the weather while it’s dry. What do you think David?”

David hesitated. “Sure,” he said. He glanced back and forth between the strangers and Eda. “If that’s what you want. Although…”

“What?” Eda said. This time it was her tone, not the words that were blunt.

David pointed to the backpack hanging off Eda’s shoulder.

“Supplies are low,” he said. “We only took a few days worth of food and water out of New York with us, didn’t we? Maybe it’s not such a bad idea to…what I mean is, maybe these good people wouldn’t mind helping us out in terms of refilling our supplies. We can always hit the road later today or tomorrow, you know?”

Eda nodded. It was a mechanical gesture.

“Yeah.”

With a nod of the head, the bald man gestured into the woods behind them.

“We have plenty of food,” he said. “You’re more than welcome to share a meal with us. And we can certainly spare some supplies for your onward journey, be that later today or in the morning or whenever you wish to depart.”

He looked at Eda.

“You have nothing to fear from us young lady,” he said. “We’re merely survivors of a great disaster, just like you and your friend. We are a shy community here. Very shy. We’re a peaceful people and I suppose you might call us religious of sorts – we stay deep in the woods, we worship our god and avoid the lingering madness of cities and towns. Everything we need is here. Right here.”

The other strangers came further forward. Now they stood alongside the bald man, forming a camouflage line. In the process, a small channel opened up in between them that led into the swampy background.

It was an open door. It was the invitation.

“My name is David,” David said. He stepped forward and then turned back to Eda. “And this is Eda. We’ve come from New York. And we gratefully accept your offer of hospitality.”

The bald man lowered his head in greeting.

“My name is Frank Church,” he said in a quiet voice. “But for as long as I remember people have called me Baldilocks.”

“Baldilocks?” Eda said. “Are you kidding?”

The man chuckled and pointed to the top of his perfectly round, gleaming skull.

“It’s not hard to guess why is it?” he said. “Bald head, long hair at the back and sides – of course. Very clever, yes? Of course, it was designed as an insult. It was done to mock me. But for some strange reason my friends, I kept the name. Now I wear it like a badge of honor. Why? It reminds me that nothing lasts forever – that what we fear is but a fleeting shadow. All the jokers are dead. Yet I’m still alive.”

He laughed, as if suddenly aware that he’d lapsed into a speech. But even as he laughed, Eda saw a hint of anger flare up in his eyes and she noticed how it lingered there, long after he’d stopped talking.

“Forgive me my young friends,” he said. “Sometimes I get lost in my own head.”

3

Eda, David and Frankie Boy were taken further into the swamp.

It felt like they were entering a lost realm, something secret that shouldn’t have existed anymore. This was the greenest place that Eda had ever seen or imagined. Easily. Central Park was one thing but the towering New York skyline was so overwhelming that it would never let Eda forget that the park was a blip, a mere oasis of green encased within a concrete giant.

Great Piece Meadows.

It was both a beautiful forest-like structure and a grimy sea of swampland. As they walked through it, the sky was mostly clear but as always the threat of rain was never far away. Eda kept her head down, trying to get used to walking over the soft and squishy surface of the swamp floor. She heard the loud sucking sound of feet being pulled out of the mud, a constant reminder that the terrain had taken a heavy soaking recently.

They were deep inside the swamp now. It was a brown and green maze and it was hard to tell exactly how the camouflaged strangers could so easily navigate their way through such a dense landscape and one that was an endless mirror image of itself. But they were doing it. Eda had a feeling these people could probably find their way around the swamp with their eyes closed.

“We’re close to the river,” David said, calling out to those at the front of the line. “Aren’t we? Maybe a little too close?”

“Don’t worry,” Baldilocks said. He glanced over his shoulder at the travelers. “Our camp isn’t located anywhere near the water. The constant flooding means we have to keep a respectful distance at all times. As you know, the rain comes hard. It’s almost spiteful in its attack. In all our time here though, it’s never been enough to make this place inhospitable. In fact, the swampy conditions are a blessing of sort – they keep other people away. Mostly.”

He smiled and turned back to the front.

They hiked west for another twenty minutes and eventually reached the camp. What Eda saw there far exceeded her expectations.

The strangers had built their home inside a massive clearing. It was essentially a tiny village in the heart of the swamp. There were two rows of wooden huts scattered on either side of the settlement, adding up to about forty buildings in total. A narrow lane ran in between the two rows, just like a regular street, only this thoroughfare was built of grass and mud instead of asphalt or concrete. And the traffic was human.

Eda noticed wooden number plates hanging from a piece of string on each door. The numbers had been scrawled in childish handwriting with red paint.

The cabins themselves were about twelve by fifteen feet at most. They’d been built on a sturdy foundation of two fat, stumpy pillars poking out of the dirt. The cabins had gable roofs and had obviously withstood the elements for many years, providing shelter for this strange little community that had set up home in a harsh environment that couldn’t have been anything other than challenging at the best of times.

Eda took it all in, nodding in silent appreciation. They’d chosen a good spot, keeping their distance from any obvious signs of washout and erosion, which were both indicators that moving water had run through the area. The village had also been built on a slightly elevated region of the Meadows and there were sloped areas on all sides, which would provide runoff after rainstorms.

As Baldilocks and his companions returned to camp with the visitors, people began to emerge from their cabins to take a closer look. The human traffic on the road, carrying supplies and buckets of water, stopped what it was doing too. Gradually, several people walked over to greet the visitors; they were smiling and some of them were even clapping their hands as if Eda and the others were long lost friends who’d returned home after a long absence.

The camp was full of people of all ages – mostly in their middle to later years but there were some teenagers and a scattering of younger children too. Eda still hadn’t gotten used to the sight of young people, not after all the time she’d spent in New York swallowing Shay’s lies about the curse. It was refreshing to see youth on display, even if they were still in the minority. Everyone in the camp had camouflage jackets on, although these came in a multitude of shades – bright green with brown, muddy brown with pale yellow stripes and many other varieties.

Eda and David were led over to a long, communal wooden table at the edge of camp. Two benches ran down either side and to keep the rain off the table, a four-legged canopy had been erected.

The visitors sat down. Almost immediately, people began bringing out large plates of food and placing them in front of the two guests. Eda glanced at the offering with interest. There was some sort of reddish brown meat, as well as several plates of vegetables. Water jugs were set down on the wood with a hearty thud. Somebody poured a glass for Eda and she thanked the server and then drank it down quickly. She was thirstier than she’d realized. She drank a second glass, then filled a spare bowl and lowered it down to Frankie Boy, who was at her feet.

“Eat, drink and rest my friends,” Baldilocks said in his strange, musical accent. “Welcome to our home in the Meadows.”

“Thank you,” Eda said, looking around. “I like what you’ve done here. It’s impressive.”

Baldilocks bowed in gratitude.

“We’ve made plenty of mistakes along the way,” he said. “Boy did we ever. It took us a few attempts to find the right spot to settle down. There were two other sites before this one but we got flooded out each time. We learned – learned what we needed to do to keep the water away. Now it’s perfect.”

Eda jabbed a thumb towards the villagers. “Did everyone come from the city?”

“We were all city people once,” Baldilocks said. “But not anymore. These days we call ourselves the Children of Nature. The Children, for short. What we shared and still share was a common goal of escape from the city. The emphasis, ever since the war, was to get away from those urban hellholes – the polluted towns and cities and everything and everyone that was ever associated with the war. We chose to start again here, to return to a simple life dictated by the basics. And thanks to the Great One, we’ve been blessed with the opportunity to do that here in the Meadows.”

Eda’s ears pricked up. Great One? Was he talking about God? She recalled some of the women back at the Complex who spoke about God and how some of them used different words to refer to what sounded like the same thing. But Eda had never heard the term ‘Great One’ before.

It piqued her interest, but she said nothing.

“How many people are here?” David asked, tearing into a slice of dry meat. He sat forward, his elbows propped up on the table. Eda noticed that he was enjoying the constant attention of the people around him, as well as the food and what felt like an atmosphere of muted celebration, inspired by their arrival.

“Seventy-four in total,” Baldilocks said. “There were more of us originally but we’ve had more deaths than births over the past five years. Such is the way with an older population.”

A tall, slim woman brought over yet another large water jug and placed it on the table. But this woman, instead of retreating backwards like the other servers, sat down on the bench beside Baldilocks. She smiled across the table at Eda. Her long hair was white – it was the whitest hair that Eda had ever seen before. Not gray, but the color of fresh snow. Eda couldn’t tell whether it was real or dyed. She still looked relatively young – in her late forties at most.

“Drink up,” the woman said. “You must be thirsty after your long journey.”

“Thank you,” Eda said, reaching for the jug and pouring out another glass for herself. She checked Frankie Boy’s bowl and topped it up.

“You’re welcome,” the woman said. Her voice was deep, almost masculine in tone. “What’s your name?”

“Eda.”

Eda offered her hand and the white-haired woman reached over the table and shook it. She didn’t even look at David.

“I’m Number 10.”

Eda screwed up her face. “Number 10?”

Baldilocks sat watching the two women, laughing softly to himself.

“Of course,” he said. “How strange it must seem to an outsider.”

“Just a little,” Eda said.

Baldilocks pointed to the villagers. Those who weren’t occupied elsewhere stood within earshot of the table, ogling the visitors with their eyes.

“There are no names amongst us,” Baldilocks said. “Not anymore. Myself excluded of course.”

“Why not?” Eda said.

“We rejected them,” Baldilocks said, turning back to the table. His tone was lazy and matter-of-fact. “And now we reject everything about the past. Everything. Our old names have no relevance to our new lives.”

Eda put her empty glass down on the table. She scoured the banquet with her eyes and although she was hungry, none of the food tempted her.

“Why didn’t you give up your name?” Eda said, glancing at Baldilocks.

“I did,” he said. “Frank Church was my name. I rejected it because it has no meaning for me anymore. But I wear my new name with pride. You see I’m the joke that lived through the End War. I was the clown, the one who wandered the streets holding up a sign and warning them what would come. I knew it would come. What did they do? They spat and called me many names. But I always hated Baldilocks the most – the jokers really took to that one back in the day. Oh yes they did. How the world turns, hmmm?”

David took a break from eating.

“How have you survived in here for so long?” he asked, wiping tomato juice off his chin. “I mean, with so many mouths to feed. It must be hard going.”

It was Number 10 who answered.

“Simplicity,” she said. “Like the animals, we ask for no more than what is necessary to survive. We live off what he provides for us. We have water and we hunt a minimal amount, always looking for the weak, old and sick animals. We have a few vegetable gardens – it’s not much but it’s enough.”

“Yes,” Baldilocks said, nodding along to every word. “And we are thankful for your safe arrival my friends. Despite our retreat from the outside world it’s good to know that there are still some people out there. Young people especially. The uncorrupted.”

Eda’s eyes darted back and forth between Baldilocks and Number 10. As they spoke, she could hear boots squelching in the mud behind her as the Children went about their business.

She took a deep breath.

“Who is the Great One?” Eda asked.

The table fell silent. Eda noticed David looking at her with a mildly troubled expression, making her wonder if she’d committed a grave error. Then he went back to shoveling food in his face with all the enthusiasm of someone who hadn’t eaten in a week.

Baldilocks took a sip of water and placed the glass on the table. He ran a finger back and forth around the rim in concentration.

“The Great One is Uncle Sam,” Baldilocks said. “He’s the one who spoke to me in the past and forewarned me of the End War. He’s the one who speaks to me still.”

“God?” Eda asked. She spoke in a whisper. “Are you talking about God?”

Baldilocks shook his head.

“The God you speak of abandoned us a long time ago,” he said. “You can’t blame him for that. We fell too far and so he closed the door on his creation for good. However, he left behind an empty throne and before long there came another to deal with the mess of humankind. This other was brutal in his tactics.”

Baldilocks pointed towards the ground.

“He lives down there.”

“He lives in the dirt?” Eda said.

“There’s a place near here,” Number 10 said. “That’s where he resides in darkness. With any luck he’ll stay there and let us live out our lives in peace. The End War was like a giant meal for him and he’s satisfied, at least for now. But it’s up to us to keep him satisfied. We must keep him satisfied. To love, respect and fear him. That way, we might turn his wrath away from Earth and he’ll go back to whatever dark corner of Hell he first crawled out of.”

Eda glanced at David. He looked like he was only half-listening to their hosts, such was the level of food distraction in front of him.

“How do you keep him satisfied?” Eda said.

“We go to him,” Number 10 said. “To the place where he lives – a giant crater near Fairfield. Biggest you ever saw. We go there and we give thanks, amongst other things.”

“That’s it?” Eda said. “You just go there and say thanks.”

“Like I said,” Number 10 said. “Amongst other things.”

Baldilocks ran a hand over his skull, sliding it through the dirty gray hair that sprouted from the back and sides.

“Do we sound like mad people?” he said. “Of course we do. But you’re quite young both of you – I don’t imagine you remember much about the war.”

David shook his head. “Just the aftermath.”

“The wild years,” Baldilocks said. “A second End War of sorts, only we were fighting amongst ourselves that time.”

Eda pointed to the villagers. “What did all these people do before the war?” she asked. “Jobs and things?”

“We were all kinds of people,” Baldilocks said. “Some of them carrying water buckets over there were once big shots in Paterson and Jersey City. They made a lot of money, had families, two cars and a nice house. Their lives fit nicely into that old world model. The American Dream. They paid their taxes and put their trust in the governments and authority figures. Not for one minute however, even at the height of the pre-conflict crisis, did they believe that the war would happen. They put their trust in the wrong people. While I was on the street, a homeless bum telling them the truth, they listened to the people they trusted, the ones that wore expensive suits while they lied.”

His upper lip curled into a snarl.

“And you?” Eda said. “Who were you?”

“I was nobody,” Baldilocks said. “I was an English immigrant, an outsider from the get-go. In later years, I was the madman who walked the streets of Jersey City with a sign that said ‘The End is Nigh’. I did that day and night. I used to carry another sign too and it said that ‘Uncle Sam will be the death of us all’. They didn’t realize that I knew. I knew what was coming.”

Baldilocks pointed at a curly-haired man who was carrying a large plastic container towards one of the cabins.

“Number 28,” Baldilocks called out. “Who was I before? Before all this?”

Number 28 stopped what he was doing and looked over towards the communal table. All of a sudden he roared with belly laughter. It was an enormous sound, enough to make Eda jump slightly in her seat.

“I remember,” Number 28 said, yelling back over. “Crazy Baldilocks, that’s what we used to call him. What I used to call him. Used to laugh at him on my way to work every day = the mad bastard going up and down the street, holding up his sign. I used to see groups of kids sitting on the wall on the opposite side of the street from where he patrolled. They were all laughing at him but they were too scared to get close. The local loon, that’s what he was. You were only what back then? Twenty-five? Thirty?”

Baldilocks managed a feeble nod.

“The way they used to look at me...”

Number 28 walked over and his fat hands fell on the table.

“Turned out we were the crazy ones,” he said. “One day I saw it with my own eyes – the war this mad bastard had been predicting for years. The same war that all the suits said would never happen. And Baldilocks walked out of that war unscathed, not a scratch on his face. When we were all homeless, he had this look on his face that said I fucking told you so and he was right – he did fucking tell us so and what did we do? We laughed at him for it.”

“For those of us who survived,” Number 10 said, leaning forward on the bench, “it was a wake up call. There was no ignoring him after that.”

Baldilocks watched the others intently as they spoke. His lips moved, as if he was repeating their words silently to himself.

Then he turned back to Eda.

“They were dropping bombs all over Jersey,” he said. “Newark, Jersey City, Paterson, Edison – and not one of those places played any sort of strategic role in the war. Not one. When the bombs came, when there was no more help from the outside – that’s when they realized that I was more than just a street bum. Their overlords didn’t care about them. They couldn’t help them and like I always said, the end was nigh. Savings, a big house and a fancy car meant nothing. The bombs, Jesus Christ, they were hitting everything and everyone and nobody even knew if it was their planes or our planes dropping them. I guess, it didn’t matter if you were on the ground.”

Eda shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

“People began to listen to him at last,” Number 10 said. “I was only a kid back then but it was like I grew up overnight. Holy shit, everyone’s childhood ended all at once. My mom was the only other survivor in my family. She apologized to Baldilocks like everyone else. Well if I’m being honest, she downright begged for forgiveness and asked what the hell she was supposed to do next to keep me safe. When Baldilocks declared an exodus out of the city, nobody hesitated to go with him.”

“It was Uncle Sam who proposed the exodus,” Baldilocks said. “I was merely the vehicle through which the message was communicated.”

“Why here though?” Eda asked. “Why a swamp?”

“I knew the Meadows well,” Baldilocks said, pouring himself another glass of water. He topped up Number 10’s glass too. “My family moved to Jersey City from London when I was around ten years old. My dad used to bring me here fishing and hiking – he was a real outdoorsman and some of my happiest memories are of this place. I felt safe here. I still do.”

David looked at Baldilocks.

“How did you know?” he asked. “That it was going to happen. What I mean is, why did you start carrying those signs before the war?”

Baldilocks stared back at David.

“A long time ago,” he said, “when I was a young man, I heard it for the first time. It was an incredible experience – a voice whispered in my ear. Like a dream. It told me that we were a cursed species and that a time would come when Uncle Sam would wreak havoc upon the world. Unless of course, they repented. I tried to warn people but nobody repented.”

“So Uncle Sam lives under a giant crater?” Eda said. “He’s full up now?”

Baldilocks narrowed his eyes and looked at Eda. He looked like someone who was checking to see if the other person was making fun of them.

“Why don’t you let us show you where he lives?” Baldilocks said, chuckling quietly. “See it for yourself, hmmm? I know what you both must be thinking. Who the hell are these crazy people living in the middle of the swamp? You must think us mad.”

Eda didn’t want to stay there much longer, let alone go visit their god. But she couldn’t think of the words to get out of it.

“Spend the night here,” Baldilocks said. “We have a few cabins spare and you’re more than welcome to sleep and rest up after what must have been a strenuous journey from New York. First thing tomorrow, we’ll show you where Uncle Sam lives. Trust me, it’s like nothing you’ve ever seen before.”

“I don’t know,” Eda said, shaking her head. She caught a glimpse of the dense swampland that surrounded them and a felt a sinking feeling inside. Even with David’s knowledge of the Meadows, they were at the mercy of their hosts when it came to finding their way back to the road. “I think maybe we should be…”

“Is it far?” David asked. He was looking at Baldilocks.

“Not too far,” Baldilocks said. “We go to Fairfield via the river. We’ve got some wooden canoes tied up on the bank not far from here. It’s rather a pleasant journey you’ll find.”

“But we should really get going,” Eda said, looking at David. “Don’t you think?”

Her voice felt like a whisper that wasn’t being heard.

Baldilocks responded first. “Of course,” he said. “Do what you think is right Eda. Don’t listen to us rambling on and on. You’re more than welcome to fill your bag with supplies on the way out. We’ll take you back to the road if you’d like to get moving now. Are you sure we can’t tempt you? It’s quite safe here I assure you. We can show you where Uncle Sam is tomorrow and then we’ll drop you off on the highway no later than noon. Last offer, going…going…”

David’s eyes lit up. There was a hopeful smile on his face that turned Eda’s stomach.

“Sounds fascinating,” he said. “I’d quite like to see this crater.”

“You really want to?” Eda said to David. “Don’t you think we should be…? You know? Moving on.”

“I’m curious that’s all,” he said, dividing his attention between Eda and their hosts. “Live a little Eda. You won’t find anything like this in a book, that’s for sure.”

Eda sighed and leaned her elbows on the table. The sigh sounded like a whistle escaping slowly through her lips.

4

That night, Eda, David and Frankie Boy slept in one of several vacant cabins located at the far end of the village.

They’d been taken there not long after the conversation had dried up at the communal table. The visitors were left with some food and drink and a mountain of blankets. After that, the Children left them alone for the rest of the night. The plan was that they would meet up at breakfast the next morning and from there they’d be taken to Uncle Sam’s crater near Fairfield. The one that David so badly wanted to see.

The cabins were sparse in terms of interior decoration. There wasn’t much room for anything except two handcrafted beds inside, which took up the majority of space. Eda threw her blankets onto the bed, leaving a spare one for Frankie Boy, which she dropped onto the floor and crumpled up a bit for him. Frankie Boy took up the offer, grateful to have somewhere quiet to curl up and close his eyes. The noise of camp had exhausted him as much as it had Eda.

For the rest of the day, Eda and David lay on their beds. Eda’s limbs felt like they had lead weights inside and she didn’t think she could move again, even if she’d wanted to. Fortunately she’d paid a visit to the bathroom – behind a bush – before climbing into bed.

Afternoon turned to evening. The light in the forest flickered out gradually as Eda listened to the strange noises coming in from outside. The Children began to move into their cabins and loud conversations fizzled to silence. The occasional spurt of birdsong lasted long into darkness. The space in between, that was filled by the listener’s imagination.

“They’re trying to convert us,” Eda said. She was unsure of whether David was asleep or not. “You know that right? You get what they’re trying to do here?”

She heard him turn over on the bed.

“What did you say?” he asked. His voice was lazy and sluggish.

“The Children want us to join them,” Eda said. “They want to turn us into Uncle Sam worshippers just like they are. Why else would they be so keen to take us to this crater where their god lives? Or is it meant to be a demon?”

There was a short pause.

“Nah,” David said. “You’re imagining it Eda. They’re weird but they’re harmless enough, don’t you think? We’ll be back on the road by tomorrow afternoon.”

“I hope so,” Eda said. “What’s with all that Uncle Sam crap anyway? Do these people really worship a giant hole in the ground? They don’t seem that crazy to me.”

Another pause.

“I guess so,” David said. “I quite like them. I can’t believe I’ve never ran into them in here before.”

“Listen,” Eda said. “Here’s the plan. We’ll grab supplies off these guys first thing in the morning. Fill up the bag till it almost bursts. After that, we go with them to look at this hole in the ground that they love so much. We act impressed, we’re polite and all that but we don’t stay too long. Right? We’ll tell them we need the daylight and that we’ve got to keep moving. Hopefully we get that in first and they’ll realize there’s no point in asking us to join their cult.”

“Right,” David said. “Any idea where we’re going next? We could go find the weapons I’ve got hidden in the swamp. What do you think?”

Eda’s eyes remained glued to the ceiling.

“I want to get out of the swamp,” she said. “Let’s just get back to the road, okay? See what else is out there.”

They fell asleep soon afterwards.

The next morning, after a light breakfast, a small party set off towards Uncle Sam’s crater. About fifteen of the Children, led by Baldilocks and Number 10, accompanied Eda, David and Frankie Boy through the swamp and on the trail that led back to the road. From there they walked east, parallel to the large highway that Eda, David and Frankie Boy had traveled out of Paterson on.

Eda’s boots and khaki pants were covered in mud. Her rain cloak wasn’t much better off. It was fast becoming tiresome having to wrestle her feet out of this hostile terrain every second or third step. Nature didn’t want her here. That suited Eda – she didn’t want to be there either. The swamp was sending a clear message to the city girl – get the hell out.

The Children didn’t seem to notice the difficult conditions anymore. With their camouflage clothing, they glided through the swamp, blending into the scenery effortlessly. It was like they’d always been there, like their ancestors had lived in the Meadows for a thousand years before them.

They came to a halt on the banks of the Passaic River. The river was a wide stretch of dirty brown water that meandered for about eight miles through the swamp lowlands of New Jersey. The trees hung low here, stooping over as if reaching towards the surface of the water for a drink.

Five upturned canoes sat at the edge of the water. The canoes had been secured on the riverbank with rope, tightly wrapped around the nearest, sturdiest tree trunk. The rope was taut. It looked ancient and exhausted, but in times of flood it had probably worked wonders in terms of preventing the boats from drifting away.

The canoes appeared to be in good condition. They were made of wood and each one possessed a well-rounded hull with five planks showing on either side. They were hardy-looking vessels with the scars to prove it.

Some of the Children rolled up their sleeves and after untying three of the canoes, they began to push them into the murky water. Baldilocks, Number 10 and a few others jumped into the lead boat. One of the men picked up a couple of single bladed paddles off the floor. He handed one to another passenger and the two paddlers began to direct the tiny vessel over the river.

Eda, David and Frankie Boy were escorted into the third canoe with two other women. Eda didn’t know their numbers. She didn’t ask.

The canoe drifted gently onto the shallow water, following the two leading boats. As instructed by one of the women, Eda and David sat on the bench in the middle with Frankie Boy slouching at their feet. The women sat at front and rear of the canoe, sandwiching their guests while they paddled further away from the riverbank.

It was Eda’s first time on a boat and yet despite the strange sensation of land receding behind her, she enjoyed the sensation of the canoe gliding along the Passaic. It felt light and unreal, like movement inside a dream. The trees that lined the edge of the bank resembled huge and ancient beings, leaning closer, hoping to hear a secret pass from the travelers’ lips.

“The river must flood a lot,” Eda said, looking at how close the water level was to the land. It wouldn’t take much for the Passaic to spill its banks.

“We stay away when it floods,” the black-haired woman at the front of the canoe said. Her voice was stern, like her expression. “You want to survive here? Rule Number One. Respect the environment.”

“Yeah,” Eda said. As far as she was concerned, Rule Number One was applicable anywhere.

They traveled northeast on the Passaic, mostly in silence.

A chorus of screeching sounds filled the sky. Eda looked up and watched a flock of large white birds flying by – she’d never heard or seen anything like it before. It was like another world. Eda had read something once about the River Styx – the river in Greek mythology that acted as the boundary between the Earth and Hades. She imagined that sailing down the Styx was much like this, cruising downstream in the Passaic, accompanied by an extraordinary feeling of isolation.

In the lead boat, Baldilocks was sitting on the center bench, deep in conversation with Number 10, whose silky white hair blew backwards in the breeze.

The little armada moved at a swift pace. After moving north it dipped south again and sailed underneath a couple of highways, leaving the Meadows altogether and coming out into a sedate, urban setting. A short while later, it came to a stop in the place that the Children called Fairfield.

The three canoes pulled into the edge of the riverbank. The Children disembarked quickly, stepping out onto a bed of lush grass that was a far cry from the sludge-like terrain deeper inside the Meadows. The paddlers dropped the paddles inside the canoes. After dragging them further onto land, they turned the boats over and headed inland.

Eda stepped onto the riverbank, followed by Frankie Boy. David was lagging a few paces behind.

“Did you enjoy that my friends?” Baldilocks asked, turning back to his guests. “No matter how times I make that journey it never gets old. Hmmm?”

Eda and David both nodded.

“I always find the river to be a wonderful source of contemplation,” Baldilocks said. He was looking at Eda. “Really clears the mind.”

“I suppose,” she said.

“But as wonderful as that was,” Baldilocks said, “it’s nothing compared to what you’re about to see. Are you both ready?”

“Yeah,” Eda said. She forced a smile onto her face. “Ready.”

“Let’s go see this thing,” David said.

There was little talking after that. Eda and David played along, adapting to this mood of hushed reverence that the Children had adopted on their way to the crater. It was as if they were walking on sacred ground.

Eda and David followed at the back of the group. They walked through a forest-like stretch at first, consisting of a thick wall of trees and an explosion of overgrown foliage. After a few minutes, this led them onto a tiny, secluded street. A faded sign told them the street was called Riverside Drive. There were several small houses, mostly one-story buildings peering out from behind a jungle of long grass in the garden.

With Baldilocks and Number 10 leading the way, the traveling party walked up the driveway of one of the houses, jumped a short wooden fence at the back and then from there climbed up a short, grassy incline that eventually brought them onto a long, winding stretch of empty road.

“Uncle Sam,” Baldilocks said, stepping ahead of the group. He was pointing straight ahead, beyond the road.

Eda took one look and her jaw dropped.

“Oh my God,” she said. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

David stepped ahead of her, shuffling forward like a sleepwalker. He went ahead of all the others too, including Baldilocks.

“That’s…that’s incredible.”

Even Frankie Boy, who’d been enjoying the hike at a leisurely pace, stopped dead when he saw it. The dog let slip a low growl and then he fell silent, staring off into the distance, mesmerized like everyone else.

Baldilocks stepped out ahead of the pack again. Then he turned around and faced his audience. His brow creased as he nodded his head slowly.

“This is where you’ll find him,” he said. His voice was quiet, like somebody was sleeping nearby that he didn’t want to disturb.

Eda couldn’t take her eyes off it.

It was a giant crater. It was the biggest thing she’d ever seen and probably ever would see in her life. The small party stood about a hundred meters away from where the rim of the monstrous hole began. And from there it stretched back as far as the eye could see. Eda imagined that a long time ago, a giant had knelt down here and scooped a massive chunk of the world away with a shovel. How many millions of tons of earth had been displaced in its creation? It was at least a couple of hundred feet deep. The diameter was perhaps as much as a thousand feet.

The Children began to file across the road towards the crater. Eda only moved when David nudged her gently on the arm. They followed but their steps were tentative, as if wary of getting too close.

“What could do such a thing?” Eda whispered to David.

“Something a little stronger than that dagger you’ve got strapped to your waist,” he said.

Eda didn’t laugh. Instead she touched the hilt of the dagger, which hung from her belt under the rain cloak. Somehow it comforted her.

Baldilocks took large, exaggerated steps towards the crater’s edge. His arms were spread wide open like he was greeting an invisible friend. The other Children were close behind and together they walked down a steep, rocky hill that brought them down to the lip of the crater. Baldilocks was the first to arrive. He stopped and turned around, watching the others catch up with him. Then he noticed that Eda, David and Frankie Boy were still hanging back on the road.

“Come down my friends,” he said, calling up to them with his hands cupped over his mouth. “Uncle Sam has no plans to disturb us today.”

“That’s reassuring,” David said. And then in a louder voice that Baldilocks could hear, he cried out:

“It’s that big bloody hole that worries me though.”

“Oh yeah?” Baldilocks said. “What about the big bloody hole?”

“I’ve heard things about the bombs that made holes in the ground like that one,” David said. “Stories. They weren’t ordinary bombs, were they? There were other risks.”

“You’re talking about radiation,” Baldilocks said. “Aren’t you?”

“I am,” David said. “How do you know it’s safe to stand so close to that thing?”

“I don’t,” Baldilocks said. The question appeared to bore him. “What I do know is that we’ve been coming here for years and there hasn’t been one instance of radiation poisoning amongst the Children. Okay? Look at the trees over there my friend and remember the flowers we saw on our way here today. Life grows on in Fairfield. Maybe it wasn’t a nuclear bomb at all. Maybe it was. Why worry about it now? If it’s dangerous, you’re already exposed.”

Eda and David exchanged worried looks.

Baldilocks beckoned them closer.

“Tread quietly friends,” he said. “He’s right underneath us. Sleeping, but always aware.”

Eda and David looked at one another. David made the first move, lifting his leg over the metal barrier and slowly descending the rocky hill that led down towards the crater. Eda followed, keeping close to Frankie Boy in case he bolted in the wrong direction. At the moment that was any direction. Most importantly, she didn’t want him getting too close to the edge of that hole. She had no intention of getting close herself.

Damn it, she thought. To hell with Uncle Sam, whatever it was supposed to be. God, demon or delusion. Eda’s most pressing concern lay ahead of her. How would Baldilocks and his followers take it when Eda and David rejected the inevitable offer to join the Children? They’d brought them to the crater for a reason – to see it up close. Perhaps Baldilocks thought the crater’s magnificence would clinch the deal. No such luck. Eda hoped things weren’t about to get ugly in swampland but the old man didn’t strike her as someone who took bad news well. Not in the slightest. At the very least, Eda and the others would be cast out into the Meadows with no guide to lead them back to the road.

A trickle of sweat ran down Eda’s forehead. She wiped it away quickly before anyone noticed.

The Children gathered somberly around the hole. Their feet were so close to the edge that it felt like someone was twisting Eda’s insides into tight knots when she looked at them. How could they stand there like that? Staring down into its jaws. One misstep, one heavy gust of wind or a dizzy spell later and they’d be goners.

Eda stopped at the bottom of the steep slope. She was about twenty feet away and that was near enough as far as she was concerned. She kept a firm hand on Frankie Boy’s back, squeezing harder on the coat to deter him from approaching the bizarre scene unfolding nearby.

When David saw Eda stop, he did the same.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he said. “What the hell are we doing here? Sorry, I never thought it would be like this. Hey, at least the crater’s impressive, right?”

“Yep,” Eda said, talking through gritted teeth.

The Children held hands with one another. They stood in a straight line with Baldilocks in the dead center. By now, he no longer appeared interested in Eda and David. Eda was grateful at least that Baldilocks hadn’t summoned them over. The thought came to her as she stood there that along with David and Frankie Boy, she could make a break for it. Maybe steal one of those canoes and get back to the highway. It wasn’t far from here. She could almost feel the blacktop highway under her feet again, wide open spaces on either side, and nowhere in the world she had to be.

But Eda decided against it. Just a little longer. Let them hold hands and stare into the hole. Sing songs, do whatever it was people like this did. Hopefully they wouldn’t ask anyone to convert until they got back to camp and by then, Eda would be a long way from that hideous chunk of missing earth.

“It’s time!”

Baldilocks dropped the hands of the people standing beside him. Slowly, he raised both arms and held them out in a straight line, pushing his fingertips a few inches over the edge of the crater.

“Great One,” he called out. His voice trembled with awe. “Uncle Sam. Thank you, oh thank you for watching over us, your Children, as you do. Thank you for delivering us from harm every day and allowing us the room to be better. Thank you for the food and the water that sustains our simple existence far from the maddening past. Please accept our daily gratitude for everything you do. For allowing this cursed species to repent.”

“Thank you Uncle Sam,” the crowd murmured as one.

“We will never forget,” Baldilocks said, taking a step back. “And we will forever be your Children.”

“Amen,” the crowd said.

A long silence followed. The Children’s heads remained bowed and their eyes tightly closed. It was like every one of them was engaging in a silent dialogue with Sam.

Baldilocks was the first to break away. He turned around and walked over to Eda and David with a stern expression.

“Now you know,” he said.

Eda’s posture stiffened up. She sensed it coming any second now.

Will you join us?

But it didn’t happen. Baldilocks didn’t ask them to join the cult, at least not yet. Without another word, he began walking back towards the road. The Children followed in single file. Eda noticed their solemn-looking faces – their eyes were still partially closed as if they were locked in a trance, but there was something else happening. A muted chant. One word, over and over again, drifting out of their midst like smoke from a fire. Eda couldn’t quite make it out at first but as they got nearer, she caught it. One word. It had a hypnotic and sinister rhythm, slow at first and then as it went on, it sped up towards it climax.

“Sam.”

“Sam.”

“Sam.”

“Sam-Sam-Sam.”

5

Silence accompanied the three boats on the return journey. It felt like a sacred one so Eda, although full of questions, didn’t break it.

As the canoes floated along the Passaic River, she visualized what would happen once they reached land. Back to camp, pick up their bags and start walking, with or without an escort. After what she’d seen at the Fairfield crater, Eda was beyond caring whether any of the Children were willing to show them the way out.

With any luck, Baldilocks and the others would see how eager their visitors were to leave. Then they’d abandon their attempt to convert anyone.

And once they’d left, Eda, David and Frankie Boy would be back on the highway by early afternoon at the latest. It would give them a few hours of daylight to walk, to put a few miles between themselves and Great Piece Meadows.

Baldilocks was sitting in the lead boat again. His eyes stared straight ahead as the canoe plowed its way down the center of the river and back towards the Meadows. A gentle breeze blew on what was left of his hair. It danced wildly, like pieces of old string attached to a skull.

Even the birds were silent on the way back.

When at last they reached the riverbank near the camp, the Children secured the canoes to the trees and turned them upside down, locking the paddles inside. All the while, the icy silence lingered, much like the plague of biting insects that followed them everywhere. Eda swatted the mosquitoes away. They always came back.

They trudged back to the camp where the rest of the Children were going about their business – carrying supply bundles back and forth, food preparation, sword sharpening and other routine tasks.

Eda hung back a little. While the others walked ahead, she reached out and grabbed David by the arm. She squeezed tight. Without looking at her, David nodded as if he understood the message. They had to get out of there and preferably before the uncomfortable question – will you join us? – arose. Nobody else said anything about them leaving. That meant it was up to them to bring it up first. Eda could see some of the Children bringing out plates and spreading them out across the communal table in preparation for lunch.

She shook her head. All offers would be refused. Politely.

“Let’s get the bags,” Eda whispered. She elbowed David gently in the ribs. “C’mon.”

Eda’s heart was racing and yet it was true the Children hadn’t given her any reason to feel so uneasy. They seemed like good people – they’d taken the strangers in, fed them and offered them a comfortable bed for the night. They meant no harm – they only wanted to show off their god and yes, perhaps to convert Eda and David into Uncle Sam worshippers. But they must have thought that was the right way to live and if so, it was a kindness on their part to invite others along for the ride. There was nothing malicious going on. It was how they coped with the past and as Eda knew, anybody who’d survived the End War was grateful to be alive. Gratitude manifested itself a number of different ways. So they worshipped a hole in the ground. So what?

The swamp was harmless. She had to stop thinking that it was a giant net with no discernable exit.

David stood like a wooden board beside her. He bit his lip, chewing on it like he was trying to draw blood.

Eda sighed. She knew it was up to her to be the impolite guest. “Okay,” she said. “Well, thanks for everything. I guess we’d better hit the…”

Nobody paid any attention to her.

Eda cleared her throat and tried again. A little louder this time.

“Hey,” Eda said, not speaking to anyone in particular. Her eyes skipped back and forth, not wanting to single anyone out. Doing this, the little community turned into a blur. It was easier that way.

“I guess we’d better get going,” she said. “Don’t want to miss out on all that daylight. You know?”

Countless faces turned to look at her. The blur collapsed and she was met by a wall of blank expressions.

“Sorry,” Eda said. What the hell was she apologizing for? “We’ve got a lot of walking to do and I think we’d better start covering some of that ground while we can.”

Still, nobody said anything. They just looked back at her like she’d dragged a rotten carcass into camp and dumped it at their feet.

Eda didn’t give a damn about picking up supplies anymore. All she wanted was the backpack on her shoulder and the feeling of movement again. To get out.

She turned to David for support.

“Right?” she asked.

But David said nothing. He was as white as a blizzard. Was he experiencing a private nightmare – the slow, churning dread of what they might do to him if he didn’t pledge his loyalty to the Uncle Sam cult? Was he, in his mind at least, back at the crater, standing at the edge and looking down?

Whatever it was, it had rendered him useless.

“Yeah so we’ll just get our bags and be on our way,” Eda said. She’d already started towards the little cabin they’d spent the night in. Unfortunately it was at the far end of the village and she’d have to pass through the crowd to get there.

Frankie Boy walked faithfully at her side. She didn’t know if David was behind her or not.

“Thank you for your hospitality,” she said. She could feel them looking at her. Looking through her.

Baldilocks stepped forward, separating himself from the crowd. He blocked Eda’s route towards the cabin. When she tried to walk past him, he moved with her, cutting her off once again.

“Not just yet,” he said.

Slowly, he turned around and walked through the crowd. The Children parted for their leader like he was pushing them back with magic powers.

Baldilocks looked at Eda. Then he pointed to the communal table.

“Please sit down,” he said. “This won’t take a moment.”

Eda glanced at the table and sighed. This is it, she thought. Conversion time. She threw a desperate look towards David who’d caught up with her at last. His eyes darted back and forth between Baldilocks and Eda. The way he looked, it reminded Eda of a phrase she’d read about once – like a rabbit caught in the headlights. Eda made a mental note to kick David’s ass later. It was his call to follow the Children into the Meadows. He’d been the one who wanted to see Uncle Sam’s crater. And now he was leaving it to her to sort out the mess they were in.

Fucking men.

“We have to go,” Eda said.

“Just a moment,” Baldilocks said. His voice was so quiet that she could barely hear it. “It’s better if you sit down while I talk.”

Eda knew there was no way around it. She walked over to the table and sat down with a disgruntled sigh. Frankie Boy lay down on the grass while David stayed on his feet, standing directly behind where Eda was sitting on the bench.

“Some water please,” Baldilocks said, calling out to the crowd.

The Children’s leader sat down opposite Eda and a painful silence passed until the water arrived. Baldilocks thanked the server, picked up the jug and poured out three glasses. He pushed two of them across the table towards Eda and David. David reached over and snatched his glass, draining it in one gulp like he wished it was something stronger. After that, Eda could hear him breathing behind her; it sounded like he’d just woken up from a nightmare in sweat-soaked sheets.

Eda was thirsty but she didn’t touch the water.

“What do you want to say to us?” she said, looking at the man across the table. She would do her best to keep it polite.

“I took you to the crater today for a reason,” Baldilocks said. As he spoke, he swirled the water in his glass around and stared at it. The dizzying motion of the liquid held his attention for at least ten long seconds. “I took you there to show you who we are. And now that you know, I have a question for you. Do you think we’re crazy?”

“No,” Eda said. “They way you live here, it’s admirable. I respect what you’ve done.”

“I wouldn’t blame you,” Baldilocks said, “if you thought we were a bit bonkers. Everyone who knew me in Jersey City thought I was mad. Stark raving mad. Most of them are either dead or they came here with me begging for forgiveness.”

Baldilocks took a long drink of water. Then he slammed the glass down hard on the table.

Eda flinched, but tried to keep her composure.

“I don’t think you’re mad,” she said. “And we’re very grateful that you would consider us worthy of joining the Children and staying here with you. But the truth is, I’ve just left New York after being there for a long time with another community. I’m just not looking to settle down with anyone right now. I want to keep moving – no disrespect intended. Now, we’d like to leave and get back to the road. That’s okay, isn’t it?”

Baldilocks laughed. But it didn’t last long and as the laughter subsided, his eyes hardened into two blocks of stone.

“Did I ask you to join us?” he said. “Did I?”

Eda pushed her glass away. Then she got up to her feet.

“C’mon,” she said, directing the comment at David behind her. “Let’s get our bags. Let’s go Frankie Boy.”

Eda began to walk away. Then she stopped dead.

About ten of the Children were trudging across the muddy road in the heart of the village. They were walking towards the communal table, all of them carrying short swords with a bright silver hilt and distinct leaf-shaped blade.

She heard a noise to her left.

On the other side of the table, another ten Children approached, all of them with swords in hand. And a mean look in their eyes too.

“You’re surrounded,” Baldilocks said. “Don’t try anything silly now. It’s a waste of energy, hmmm?”

Eda unsheathed the dagger from her belt anyway. She looked at the Children closing in on both sides, daring them to come closer.

“What’s going on?” she said. “You won’t let us go?”

Baldilocks shook his head. “There’s really no need for this is there?” he said. “I hate violence. Really, I hate it.”

He held up a hand. The Children on either side halted their advance and slowly, they lowered their weapons.

“We’ll talk this over like adults,” Baldilocks said. “It’s for the best.”

“Talk what over?” Eda said. “Just let us go. Okay? You can’t hold us captive in here when we’ve done noting wrong. Have we offended you or something? Are you afraid that we’re going to tell someone out there about your home? Well we’re not. It’s none of our business anyway. David, Frankie Boy, let’s go.”

Eda stepped over the bench and backed off, still facing Baldilocks and his chilling, blank expression. She moved a few paces away from the communal table. Then she bumped into something sharp and stopped dead, her hands shooting up into the air automatically.

David was standing behind her.

The tip of his sword was pushing into her back.

Eda felt a rush of dizziness. “What the fuck?” she yelled.

David put a hand on Eda’s shoulder and spun her around. He reached out and snatched the dagger out of her hand before she knew what was happening. He quickly tucked the weapon into his belt and then stared at her for a couple of seconds. His left eye twitched nervously. Eda saw regret in there, or at least she thought she did.

“What are you doing?” she asked. Her voice was tame, almost unrecognizable in its shock. “David! What the hell are you doing?”

“I’m sorry Eda,” David said. “This isn’t easy for me. But the Complex isn’t the only community of survivors that sends out ambassadors to do a job. Only here in the swampland, we call them Seekers.”

Eda shook her head, unable to stop.

“David…?”

He took a step closer.

“Back in New York you were smart enough to realize that I wasn’t one of the bandits,” he said. “It’s like I told you, I met them here in Jersey on their way to New York. What I didn’t tell you was that I went with them because I was Seeking. I was trying to single one of them out, lure him away from the pack and bring him back here. Of course, things didn’t go to plan. But I stuck around New York because I knew there were other people – your people to be exact. I knew I’d find someone in the end.”

“You dirty bastard,” Eda said. “After what I did for you. I saved your life.”

Baldilocks waved a dismissive hand in the air.

“Enough,” he said. “We don’t care about the details anymore. All that matters is that the Seeker has brought one last soul to us. You’ve done well Number 47.”

“Thank you,” David said.

“Number 47?” Eda said, gawping at David.

David leaned in closer. “Remember that Englishman I told you about? The one who raised me after the war?”

“Jesus,” Eda said, turning back to look at Baldilocks.

No wonder David been so quiet and unassertive over the past couple of days. So useless. He’d been biding his time, the son of a bitch.

Eda glanced at the tip of her dagger poking out of David’s belt. If his sword hadn’t been in the way, she would have made a grab for it there and then. After that, she’d stick it in his throat without hesitation.

“This wasn’t easy for me,” David said. “I like you Eda, I really do. All I can say is try to think of the big picture here. This isn’t a community of crazy people like you think it is – we’re trying to repair the damage of human history. We’re trying to fix things because listen to me, Uncle Sam is real and he’s right underneath that Fairfield crater. He’s real and he can do whatever he wants with us whenever he wants. He’s already wiped eight billion people off the face of the planet for God’s sake. And how many are left? A few thousand? Less? If we don’t appease the Great One, there’s no way back for the human race.”

“Sit down Eda.” It was Baldilocks. “Please.”

Eda glanced at Frankie Boy. The dog was leaning up against her, oblivious to the unfolding disaster.

“Sit down,” Baldilocks said again.

Eda sat down on the bench. David stayed close behind her like an armed guard watching over his captive.

Baldilocks leaned over the table and Eda heard his camouflage clothes creaking. Either that or it was the old man’s bones. There was a manic glint in his eyes as he spoke.

“We have to do this,” he said, his fingers digging deep into the wood like he was hanging on for his life. “But take it from me Eda, nobody takes any pleasure in the act. I promise you.”

“Just let me go,” Eda said. “Please.”

Baldilocks edged back into his seat. He shook his head.

“Everyone here remembers the horror of those years,” he said. “The sheer horror of it. What they saw, the loved ones they lost and the manner in which they lost them. We’re hanging on by a thread Eda. We’re at his mercy, you, me, everyone. So, we do as he asks of us. Four souls a year – that’s the price of peace.”

Baldilocks was smiling again. It was like there was a switch going off inside the man, taking him back and forth between light and darkness.

“We’re so happy to see you here,” he said, staring into his empty glass. “Now all the pieces are in place for this year’s ceremony.”

Eda shook her head. “No.”

“Don’t try to fight it,” David said. He put a hand on Eda’s shoulder and she shook it off. He was so standing so close behind her that Eda had to resist the urge to elbow him in the gut or somewhere even more painful. It was only a fraction of what he deserved.

“Just accept it,” he said. “It’ll be so much easier for you.”

“This is bullshit,” Eda said.

“With any luck,” Baldilocks said, getting to his feet, “this year will be the last time we have to perform the ceremony. Uncle Sam told me from the start that this wouldn’t be forever. Hopefully, we’ve repaid our debt and we can move on.”

At that moment, Number 10 walked over to the table and sat down beside Baldilocks. She poured a glass of water and pushed it across the table towards Eda.

“Now you know,” she said. “There’s no longer any need for pretense.”

“Tomorrow will be the day,” Baldilocks said, walking around the table and stopping next to David. Now they were both standing behind Eda. “We’ll delay no longer. Number 47, take the Sinner away and put her with the others.”

“Let’s go,” David said. “Eda?”

He put a hand on Eda’s shoulder for a second time and she flinched. His fingers felt like razorblades scraping against her skin.

“Number 47?” she said, looking over her shoulder. “I always hated that number.”

“It’s nothing personal,” David said.

“Save it,” she said, getting up to her feet.

Eda looked over towards the crowd. They were hovering in the distance, a sea of eyes staring back at her.

“It’s a hole in the ground for God’s sake!” she said. “You’re going to kill me because a hole in the ground told you to?”

Baldilocks signaled to David.

“Take her away,” he said. “And make sure she gets something to eat.”

6

Number 10 escorted Eda to the hut where the other prisoners were kept.

The hut was about a hundred meters north of the village. It was a tiny building, surrounded by dense swampland and almost hidden by the trees, like a secret hideaway.

While Number 10 had led Eda out of camp, David had distracted Frankie Boy with scraps of food. The poor dog still believed that David was on their side. It was enough to make Eda wish that treachery had its own unique scent. If so, if Frankie Boy knew what was really going on, he would have ripped David, aka Number 47, to shreds.

It was a nice thought.

There were two guards standing outside the hut. They stood to attention as Number 10 appeared, leading Eda through the challenge of angry branches and mud puddles. The hut looked so small – it was more like a miniature storage facility in the middle of nowhere. There was one pentagonal window on the side of the hut, which would at least allow the early afternoon light to trickle in.

One of the guards opened the door. Eda was ushered inside and she ducked her head as she passed through the small doorway. A musty odor shot up her nostrils. The smell of dirty clothes. Inside, three people were sitting on a wooden floor, which was partly covered by a pile of worn out blankets. There was a man and a woman on one side, both in their mid-to-late forties, and an older man, perhaps in his sixties or even older, on the other. As the door opened they all looked up in unison and Eda saw the flash terror in their eyes. The old man looked at Eda and then sighed. He possessed a mop of curly white hair and a large white beard that covered his neck. The beard was peppered in brown specks of dirt and as he raised his hand to block the light that flooded in through the open doorway, Eda saw that his fingernails were caked with dirt.

“Now we have four,” Number 10 said. She gestured a hand, signaling to Eda to take her place on the floor beside the others. “I’ve got a few things to do elsewhere. But I’ll be back soon to explain what happens from here. Try to stay calm, this’ll all be over soon.”

Nobody said anything.

Number 10 stepped outside and the guards pulled the door shut behind her.

Eda sat down in between the couple and the old man. As she did, she heard the sound of someone twiddling a key in the hut padlock outside. Voices faded into the distance.

“Welcome to Hell,” the old man said, looking at Eda. He offered his hand across the gap between them. “The name’s Murphy. Joseph Patrick Murphy. Most folks call me JP. From Albuquerque, New Mexico.”

Eda shook his hand. The skin felt coarse enough to be a dangerous weapon.

“Eda Becker,” she said. “From…New York, I guess.”

The man and woman on the other side of Eda were less forthcoming than Murphy. Nonetheless, after a moment or two, the woman smiled even though it looked like smiling was the hardest thing she’d ever done. She reached out a hand to Eda.

“I’m Becky,” she said. “This is my husband Mike.”

Eda took Becky’s hand, then she offered her own to Mike. Mike took it but it was like shaking hands with a feather. It didn’t take an expert to see that Mike was in bad shape. He was wearing a red shirt, unbuttoned all the way down to the waist. His ribs were poking out and his skin was a rotten dark yellow. As he sat on the floor, he was rocking back and forth on the floor ever so slightly. There was a blanket draped over his shoulders.

Eda shifted around a little, trying to find a spot on her own blanket that didn’t feel or smell like stale puke. Something that looked like a cockroach crawled slowly towards a large ceramic plate in the corner of the room. There were a few crumbs left around the edges of the plate.

“So where did they find you Eda Becker?” Murphy said. He sat up, alert and interested. Eda heard his joints crack as he moved.

“New York,” Eda said. “I guess they found me in New York.”

Murphy nodded. “Man or woman?”

“Man,” she said. “I saved his life – biggest mistake I ever made.”

“Damn right,” Murphy said, chuckling.

Eda glanced over at the disheveled couple to her right.

“What happened to you guys?”

Mike and Becky sat close, brushing up tight against one another. While Mike only had on a shirt and pants, Becky wore a thick waterproof jacket that was zipped up all the way to her neck. Every thirty seconds or so, she would glance at Mike with a concerned expression, as if keeping track of his condition.

“We were on the road,” Becky said. “Heading back east. We’re trying to get back to Boston, Massachusetts. Mike had a twin sister there once, long before the war.”

“Has a t-t-twin sister,” Mike stammered. “Has.”

“Sorry babe,” Becky said. “Has. They were separated as kids when their folks divorced. Mike traveled west with his mom. The sister stayed in Boston with her dad who apparently was a real asshole. Then the war happened and yeah…it’s a twin thing I think. Mike’s just gotta know…he’s gotta know if she’s still there.”

“She’s alive,” Mike said in a croaky whisper. “I know she is.”

“Why’d you wait so long to make the trip east?” Eda said.

“There were a few reasons,” Becky said.

She ran a hand through her shoulder-length blonde hair. When she was done, Becky looked at her hand and cringed.

“When the time was right though,” she said, “we set off and it was alright you know? It wasn’t the great hardship I thought it would be, trekking across the country. We had food, we had water. You can always find somewhere to sleep. We hardly saw anyone on the road either – a couple of caravans migrating south, but that was it. Then we got to Jersey. We ran into someone not far from Paterson. A real nice woman, polite and considerate – you’d never suspect she was a loon agent from a cult in a million years, know what I mean? We’ll feed you, she said. Give you water. Well that skinny little bitch found us at the right time. We were low on supplies and based on our earlier encounters with people on the road we were willing to trust her.”

Murphy leaned his head over. As he did so, Eda could feel the man’s hot, rancid breath blowing on her skin. He was wheezing, like his body was broken somewhere inside.

“Where did you folks say you came from again?” he asked. “Iowa?”

“Illinois,” Becky said.

“Right,” Murphy said. “Midwest.”

“Illinois?” Eda said. “Isn’t that like really far away?”

“Yeah I suppose,” Becky said, taking Mike’s hand in her own. With her other hand, she rubbed his forearm back and forth in a reassuring manner. Mike kept on staring at the floor with blank eyes.

“We were so close,” she said. “So close to Boston and to finding out about Pam. As you can see, Mikey’s taking it quite bad. This sort of confinement doesn’t help either.”

“Yeah you almost made it,” Murphy said. The man’s voice, a natural foghorn, dropped to a whisper. “Curse these damn sons of bitches. They’re a devious mob – they send out the young ones with the innocent-looking faces. You see them on the road and there’s no fear. No threat, no harm. You even hope after all that nothingness you’ve walked through that you might have met someone normal again. Jesus Christ, ain’t that the truth? Someone good. What they’re doing is taking advantage of desperate, hungry people. They reel you in and the next thing you know, you’re here. And for what? The bastards haven’t told us anything yet! Uncle Sam. A ceremony. What the hell does that mean anyway?”

“I don’t suppose you have any news of Boston?” Becky said, looking at Eda.

“Sorry,” Eda said. “As far as I know, there’s no one left in a lot of those big cities.”

They sat in silence.

Eventually, Becky turned back to Eda.

“So what about you?” she said. “What were you doing when they found you?”

“Getting away from somewhere,” Eda said.

“Whatever it was,” Murphy said, “it probably doesn’t look so bad now. Right?”

Eda shrugged. “I don’t know.”

She watched the cockroach go to work on the leftovers.

“Where’s home?” Becky asked. “You didn’t sound too sure when you said you were from New York.”

“I don’t know exactly,” Eda said. “It was a big city, not New York, but I don’t remember what it’s called. I left town with a small caravan when I was still a kid. Eventually I ended up alone again, and that’s when I went to New York.”

“Yeah you gotta keep moving,” Murphy said. His back was pressed tight against the wall. “That’s how I ended up so far from New Mexico. Movement – it’s the only thing that keeps you alive anymore.”

“There has to be something else,” Becky said. “Something out there, somewhere…”

Murphy shook his head. “Maybe it’s best you never reached Boston in the end.”

Voices approached the hut. The four prisoners stopped talking and sat up straight. A faint whimper spilled out of Mike.

The door opened and Number 10 walked inside, leaving the two guards standing at the door. From outside, Eda thought she could hear a light rain tapping on the roof.

Number 10 wiped down the front of her camouflage jacket.

“Is everyone okay?” she said, looking at the four prisoners lined up on the floor. “I know, it’s a stupid question.”

She walked further into the hut.

“So now that we’re all here,” Number 10 said, “I’m going to tell you how this thing works. First of all, let me apologize to the three people who’ve been stuck in here for almost two weeks already – we’ve kept you in the dark, well quite literally at times. But the reason I haven’t said too much is because I don’t like having to explain this thing more than once for starters. But also, we think it’s better if you don’t know too much. Especially sitting in here all day and night. Anyway, now we’re four. That means we’re ready to go.”

“Please tell,” Murphy said. “I’m dying to find out.”

Number 10 looked along the line of people on the floor.

“From now on, you four will be known as the Sinners.”

There was a moment’s silence, broken by the sound of Murphy’s low-pitched laughter.

“The what?” he said.

“Sinners,” Number 10 said, ignoring the misplaced hilarity on Murphy’s part.

“W-w-what does that mean?” Mike said. He battled hard to get the words out and Murphy’s crude laughter came to an abrupt halt. Stringing a simple sentence was like a Herculean task for Mike. The least anyone could do was be quiet so he could be heard.

Becky squeezed Mike’s hand. “Yeah,” she said. “What does that mean?”

“It means that tomorrow we make our annual offering to Uncle Sam,” Number 10 said. “Sinners. That’s what we offer him. We need four people to take on the role of Sinners and I’m sorry, but that’s where you guys come in.”

Murphy struggled up to his feet. His old bones snapped and he groaned like somebody was twisting a knife into his back.

“Fuck you,” he said, breathing heavy. “Let me out of here, I’m sick of this shit.”

The guards at the door heard Murphy jump to his feet. In unison, they spun around and took a couple of steps inside the hut, their hands on the hilt of their swords. Eda didn’t like their vacant, machine-like eyes. It looked like they were bored and would welcome a little violence.

“Sit down,” Eda said. “For God’s sake.”

“Yes,” Number 10 said, staring back at Murphy. There was no fear in her eyes. “I’d do that if I were you.”

Murphy glared at the two guards with pure hatred. He got the message however and as the fire in his eyes cooled, he sat back down again.

“Like I said,” Number 10 continued, “there are four Sinners. Each one of you will have an individual role to play during the ceremony. These roles are as follows: President of the United States, the Mayor of New Jersey, Bank Manager, and Joseph Church, brother of Frank Church, aka Baldilocks.”

Eda’s brow creased and she glanced at the others, who looked equally as confused.

“What are you talking about?”

“Baldilocks is on his way over here to designate each role,” Number 10 said. “You’ll get a little more information when he shows up.”

Eda sat up, her back leaning against the wall. She rubbed her hands together and watched the dust fly.

“Can I ask you something?” she said, looking up at Number 10. “You seem like quite a smart person to me. Do you really believe that a demon called Uncle Sam lives under that crater in Fairfield?”

Number 10 stared hard at Eda. Then she broke off the eye contact and began pacing around the hut. Her feet sounded like two hammers pounding off the wood.

“I’ll tell you what I believe,” she said. “I believe that man went through hell every day on the streets of Jersey City, trying to cure civilization of its blindness. Nobody listened to what he had to say back then. Nobody had time, including my parents. He called it.”

Number 10 stopped dead. Her eyes stared into unseen horror, as if she was living the childhood nightmare all over again. Eda knew that look only too well. She’d seen it on the face of countless survivors.

“I lost my dad in the war,” Number 10 said. “My mom and me, we had nothing and Baldilocks forgave us, even after all the crap we’d put him through. Don’t you get it Eda? He forgave all the people who laughed at him, just like that. He showed us a way to safety.”

Number 10 clicked her fingers.

“This is a great man we’re talking about.”

“He helped you out and that’s great,” Eda said. “And so now you believe everything he says, right? He talks about a demon called Uncle Sam and it’s just accepted without question? You know that Uncle Sam…you know it was originally used to symbolize the…”

Number 10 held up a hand.

Eda stopped talking.

“This will be the final sacrifice,” Number 10 said. “The last ever. Trust me, we don’t like doing this – we’re not monsters. I’m not a monster.”

Murphy cackled to himself in the background.

“You’re riding full speed on the crazy train,” he said, pointing a finger at Number 10. “There’s nothing mystical going on around here. This is cold-blooded murder you’re talking about. Nothing less.”

At that moment, Baldilocks appeared at the door. It was like he’d popped up out of nowhere. He was carrying four black garment bags with a zipper up the middle.

“Congratulations,” Baldilocks said, stepping past Number 10. He walked over to Mike and Becky and dropped two of the garment bags on the floor. Mike’s body trembled like a candle flame in the breeze.

“Hello Mike,” Baldilocks said. “You my good man will be the Mayor of Jersey City. Let me tell you about him – his name was Tom Johnson and he was a horrible man. Nothing personal, okay? You’re nothing like him Mike. It’s just a part you’re playing. Johnson was an adulterer, drug addict, a liar and a cheat, and yet apparently that was okay with the public because he was a handsome man too. He had that sickening charismatic charm that made people ignore his flaws. In fact, they loved him all the more for his crimes. Oh it makes him so…human. That’s how stupid people are Mike. Were.”

Baldilocks spat into the corner of the hut. It was an unexpected shower for the hungry cockroach. Then he pointed to the case lying at Becky’s feet. At the same time, Mike flinched and Becky wrapped her arms around him.

“It’s okay,” she said, whispering into Mike’s ear.

“You my dear,” Baldilocks said, glaring down at Becky, “are the Bank Manger. To be exact, you are the bank manager of Chase in Jersey City. Oh what a specimen of humanity she was. There was one winter I remember it well – the weather was bad. The temperature had dropped to ten degrees and I was homeless at the time. I had no one to turn to – no friends, no family, nothing. I saw this woman on several occasions – she was always dressed in a black suit, wearing pants like a man’s suit, and she was walking into the bank everyday like she was queen of Jersey. So confident, so self-assured. I don’t know what compelled me to do what I did – maybe I still believed in human decency back then. But I was desperate…”

“I know the feeling,” Murphy said, cutting Baldilocks off. “Hey mister, if you want to see a little human decency in the world then why don’t you start showing it? Huh? Think about it.”

Baldilocks didn’t look at Murphy. His focus remained on Becky.

“One morning I went over to her,” he said. “This smartly dressed woman. I introduced myself as Frank Church from London, England. She smiled at first, I remember that. I was hopeful. She said her name was Jane Mooney and that she was the manager of that particular branch. I told her about my situation and then I did it – I asked this woman for help. And do you know what her response was? She giggled into the back of her hand. Now don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t a malicious gesture. She wasn’t deliberately being cruel or anything like that, I have no doubt. No, it was more of an embarrassed laugh and I have no doubt that later that day she told the story of our encounter to her friends around a beautiful dining table in a warm, luxury apartment on the Waterfront. She brushed me off politely. But I could see it in her eyes – how eager she was to get in out of the cold. The worst thing was that I saw myself through her upper middle-class eyes. And it drove me crazy. I never asked anyone for help again, not ever.”

Baldilocks stepped to the right and dropped a case at Eda’s feet.

“You’re the President of the United States,” he said. “Congratulations Eda. How do you like that?”

“Fuck you.”

Eda waited for the story – for all the reasons why the President was included on this angry old man’s hate list. But Baldilocks had already moved on to the next Sinner. He was standing over Murphy now and he tossed the last black bag onto the old man’s lap.

“And you?” he said. “You’ve got a very special role. You’re going to play the part of my dear brother Joe. We had our differences to say the least, my brother and I. He even tried to have me committed at one point. That was before he disowned me and cut me off. But I’ll never forget dear old Joe. I hope he died well in the end.”

Baldilocks smiled at Murphy.

“Hey isn’t that your name too? Joe? Joseph? Well, looks like you get to keep it tomorrow.”

“Your brother?” Murphy said. “A bank manager? The President and a mayor? This is your personal kill list huh? Let me tell you something Frank fucking Church. This doesn’t sound like someone whose hand is being forced by the supernatural. This sounds like someone venting. Pure and simple.”

Baldilocks shook his head. “You’re wrong,” he said.

He looked at the four prisoners with a sad smile. Behind him, Number 10 was backing off towards the doorway.

“Get some rest Sinners,” he said. “Food and drink will be brought to you shortly. We’ll start out early tomorrow for Fairfield.”

Baldilocks and Number 10 walked out of the hut. The guards closed the door behind them and locked it, leaving the four prisoners to sit in the murky, cold silence of the afternoon. The only thing Eda could hear at that moment was Mike’s nervous breathing. The poor guy, he was in for a rough night.

Weren’t they all?

7

The next morning, Eda and the other three prisoners were dressed.

A man and a woman – Eda didn’t catch their numbers – came into the hut not long after sunrise to help the prisoners put on the outfits that Baldilocks had left for them. It had been a long night inside the hut as Eda had suspected it would be. She’d dozed for an hour or two at most but the close confinement with three strangers, the weird sounds coming from the swamp and of course, the thought of what was to come – that was more than enough to disrupt anyone’s night. There had been other noises inside the hut – mostly this was Murphy’s ridiculous snoring, as well as a scattering of muted conversation between Becky and Mike. Somebody wept at one point.

Eda almost welcomed the dawn when it finally came.

The two numbers had brought with them a light breakfast of dry meat and some salad scraps for the prisoners. Nobody ate a thing.

The garment bags were opened. Four black suits, dusty and wrinkled were pulled out.

Eda allowed the numbers to dress her. Her only protest was a contemptuous expression that she wore throughout. She undressed first, taking off her rain cloak and her other clothes while the men in the hut – at Murphy’s insistence, not Eda’s – were forced to look the other way. Eda thought this gesture, this clutch at chivalry, was ridiculous. They had bigger worries going on.

They put a white shirt and pants on her first. Then came the suit jacket. It felt heavy, like one more burden to carry and on top of that, it felt like someone else’s skin taking over Eda’s body. She watched as one of the numbers put on the tie, turning and pulling until the knot was tight up against the collar of her shirt. She couldn’t believe that people used to put themselves through this shit. Putting on a tie felt like punishment enough.

Eda was allowed to keep her boots on. She was thankful for that at least.

When they were all dressed, the prisoners were taken back to the main camp. They walked through a forest of glue-like sludge to get there, moving in single file with the guards and two numbers marching on either side of them. Overhead, a miserable blackish-gray sky threatened to unleash rain.

The four prisoners weren’t the only ones dressing up for the big day. The Children had taken off their filthy camouflage rags at last. Now they were dressed in what Murphy might have described as their murder clothes.

As Eda walked back into camp, she saw the small community, all of them dressed in long gray cloaks that looked like a cheap bathrobe. A snake-like belt was looped around the waist. The cloaks stopped at the knees and the legs were naked down to the shoes or boots that covered their feet.

They also wore masks over their faces. It looked like the skull of an animal, long and narrow at the snout, like a wolf. Black straggly hair fell down from both sides of the mask. The craftsmanship was clumsy, almost child-like, and yet it was the amateurishness of the design that chilled Eda’s blood. She felt sick as the horde of Children turned around to witness the prisoners’ return. They peered at the captives through the tiny eye-slits in their dog heads. Nobody spoke.

Eda looked around for Frankie Boy. No sign of him.

The crowd of dog-heads parted, opening up a narrow channel in the center. Somebody walked through the gap, approaching the prisoners.

This person was wearing a different sort of mask. It was made of rubber and it was a caricature of an image that Eda had seen before. It was the real Uncle Sam, the one who’d become a symbol, a personification of the now defunct American government. The mask consisted of an old man’s face with white hair and long chin whiskers for added decoration. There was a top hat on his head in the colors of the old American flag, the stars and stripes. Eda wondered if any of the Children were aware of what the mask was supposed to represent. She didn’t get it. Most of them were old enough to remember the real Uncle Sam. Or had they forgotten already?

Eda recognized the straggly hair spilling down either side of the mask. Baldilocks had also spurned the cheap-looking gray robes sported by the rest of the cult. He had something else going on, something much more colorful. He wore a matching blue coat with red and white striped lapels. The front of the suit stopped at the waist but at the back, a long tail ran down to his calves. The pants were black and white striped. It was a garish outfit but it went perfectly with the Uncle Sam mask.

Baldilocks walked towards the prisoners. His bulbous eyes burned through the eyeholes of the mask.

“Sinners,” he said. His voice sounded metallic, smothered under the disguise. “It’s time to repent.”

Somebody lunged at him from the group. It was Becky. The guards grabbed a hold of her before she could get close to the cult leader. Becky wriggled, trying to break free of her captors. She clawed angrily at the mask but was well out of range.

“You crazy son of a bitch,” Becky yelled. “What are you doing to us? We’re not sinners for God’s sake!”

Her outburst was sudden and violent. She lunged at Baldilocks again and two more dog heads appeared on either side to restrain her.

“This is murder!” she cried out. It was a plea to sanity but nobody in the crowd was listening or wanted to listen.

“Murder!” Murphy yelled, joining in. “Murder!”

“Bind their wrists,” Number 10 said, pulling the dog mask up over her head. She walked up and stood and Baldilocks’ side. There was an anxious look in her eyes. “Let’s get them to the canoes. Quickly.”

The prisoners’ arms were forced behind their back. Their wrists were bound together with rope.

Just before they were led away, Eda searched for a glimpse of David in the crowd. She knew the bastard was hiding behind one of those ugly masks. If only the Children would do her a favor and grant her a last minute request. If they did, Eda knew what she’d ask for and she also knew that she’d never get it.

Baldilocks pointed back and forth along the line of prisoners. Then he turned to the crowd of dog masks gathered behind him.

“Behold the Sinners,” he called out. He sounded like a preacher, like he was half-singing, half-talking to the crowd. “The President of the United States. The Bank Manager. The Mayor. And my brother. Their black hearts will not beat for much longer. With good fortune my friends, this will be the last time we – the Children of Nature – are called upon to perform this act. Let us hope that the next time Uncle Sam whispers in my ear, he’ll tell me that it’s over. That he’s satisfied.”

Number 10 pointed to the crowd.

“To the boats,” she said. “The first twenty-five people only as well as the Sinners. The rest of you wait here. Two of us will come back with the canoes in a short while. When we’re all together at the crater, the ceremony will begin. C’mon, let’s start moving this thing out.”

Some of the Children began to walk through the swampland, making their way towards the banks of the Passaic.

Eda and the prisoners were taken with them.

As they walked, a low-pitched chant emerged from the crowd. Someone was beating on a drum and with each jarring thud, a single word came from their lips:

Sam.

Sam.

Sam. Sam. Sam.

The chant continued all the way to the river.

The prisoners were placed in the first and second boats. Two prisoners in each one. Soon a small fleet of canoes pushed away from the riverbank and set off towards Fairfield. Eda closed her eyes, unable to escape the soundtrack of her impending doom.

Sam.

Sam.

Sam. Sam. Sam.

“Bye Frankie Boy,” Eda whispered.

The canoes arrived at the Fairfield riverbank.

After the Children and the prisoners had disembarked, two of the dog masks in the lead boat hooked the vacant canoes together with rope and then set off, herding the empty fleet back to the Meadows to collect the next load of Children. Eda figured it would take several trips before all of the Sam worshippers were present in Fairfield. And they would all be there. Nobody, not man, woman or child would miss the annual sacrifice.

The Sinners were led to the crater. Nobody spoke, but every one of the Children chanted.

Sam.

Sam.

Sam. Sam. Sam.

Would it never end?

Eda felt numb inside. Hope was slipping away. But it was hopeless. It felt hopeless. Along with Murphy, Mike and Becky, she was escorted on the short hike to the edge of the bombsite. Eda’s stomach lurched as she got nearer. She cast her eyes into the mouth of the crater and finally understood how someone might think it was alive. It was like balancing on the lip of a hungry monster. It wasn’t a straight fall down to the crater basin – the edges sloped downwards at an impossibly steep angle and went on like that for hundreds of feet, all the way to the bottom. It was a brutal thing to contemplate.

Peering down, Eda saw numerous dark specks scattered across the basin. There were also bright paint-like dots, most likely bones.

Instinctively, she tried to take a step. Eda bumped into one of the Children whose stubborn refusal to move told her there was nowhere else to go. The only way out was down.

A long wait followed. The rest of the Children arrived in phases while the prisoners were forced to remain teetering on the brink of the Fairfield crater. A light drizzle fell at one point and Eda lifted her face to the sky, allowing the cool spray to comfort her.

After arriving, the Children wearing dog masks began walking around the edge of the giant hole, taking up position on the outskirts. They moved in silence and when they reached their destination they turned to face the prisoners.

Eda looked to her right. Becky was taking slow, labored breaths. For some reason the Children had positioned Eda in between Mike and Becky and she didn’t know if this was deliberate cruelty on the part of their captors or just an unfortunate accident. It didn’t seem to matter to Baldilocks or the Children that they might want to die standing side by side. As it was, Becky and Mike stood with their heads bowed. Every now and then they’d glance past Eda at one another, smile bravely, and then lower their eyes back to the dirt.

To Eda’s right stood Mike and then Murphy. Murphy, who was a big bear of a man, had shrunk to half his original size. He was silent now but throughout the canoe journey he’d hurled abuse at his captors. It was his last stand, a fit of anger and fear, manifested in every curse word under the sun. Now all his bravado was worn out. Uncle Sam’s crater had already devoured his soul.

The other boatloads arrived.

The last of the Children came through the small firs at the edge of the road. A hint of after-rain sunlight sparkled on the leaves, illuminating the green. The Children walked towards the crater, once again in silence. There was no need to say anything – everybody had been here before and they knew what to do. The dog heads took up position on the outskirts and they stretched far and wide, forming a crude semi-circle that shadowed the rim. Some of the dog heads were no more than blurry specks on the horizon, not much bigger than the debris that littered the bottom of the blast hole.

Sam.

Sam.

Sam. Sam. Sam.

As the crowd chanted, the red, white and blue masked figure of Baldilocks approached the prisoners. His step was slow, painfully slow. While the mask glared at the unfortunate four, he pulled a small dagger out from underneath his coat. Eda shrank at the sight of the dagger – an inwardly curved blade of about eight inches with a bone handle.

“Get away from me,” Murphy groaned. He was snarling at the wind. Not looking any anyone or anything.

“Great Spirit,” Baldilocks roared, his face pointing at the sky. “Uncle Sam. Please accept this, our sacrifice. We give you these four Sinners. And we beg of you, not to ask too much more of us. We are not killers. Let this be the last time, if it pleases you.”

Baldilocks turned towards a small crowd of dog masks at his back. He offered the dagger to one of them.

“Number 30,” he said. “You were the first of the Seekers to deliver a Sinner to us this year. I give you the blade. Will you take it?”

The dog head came forward and took the dagger.

“I’ll take it,” said a low-pitched male voice.

Number 30 walked over to Murphy with a violent swagger. Eda watched him stop in front of the old man, their faces just inches apart.

The dog head raised the dagger and began sawing at the soft rope that bound Murphy’s wrists. Murphy’s arms fell to the side, limp and exhausted. His proud eyes were old and worn out.

Number 30 stood upright, saying nothing. Eda had a feeling that the masked man was reveling in the slow torture of his victim. That he was drinking in Murphy’s fear, becoming more powerful in his mind. Maybe it’s what he had to do to finish it.

Murphy began mumbling incoherently to himself. Eda looked over and saw an outpouring of regret in his eyes, pushing everything else, even fear aside. Murphy had spoken in the hut about movement, about travel, as a way of keeping alive. Now he couldn’t move an inch. This was the end of the road, the end of all movement, and he knew it.

Number 30 inched closer. He put the tip of the dagger to the old man’s throat.

“I don’t deserve this,” Murphy said. He shook his head back and forth.

Sam.

Sam.

Sam. Sam. Sam.

“Joseph Church,” Baldilocks cried out. “My beloved brother. You are the first Sinner. Go down into the hole and confess to Uncle Sam.”

“My name’s Mur…”

Number 30 slid the blade across Murphy’s throat while the old man was still talking, cutting from one end to the other. Murphy’s words morphed into a gasp. His eyes swelled in horror, his hands reaching towards his neck.

Eda cringed at the sound of flesh being sliced open. She thought she felt hot droplets of blood spray onto her face.

Murphy gagged violently. Eda couldn’t help but look over and she saw a blackish-red waterfall running down his neck, soaking the white shirt collar. Number 30 took a step back as if he wanted to watch the old man for a moment. Then he came forward again and pushed Murphy into the mouth of the crater.

Eda heard him rolling down the crater like a boulder. Was he dead already? Or was he still conscious? God, she hoped he was dead.

It was a long time before the hole was silent.

“Number 42,” Baldilocks said. “The second of the Seekers to deliver.”

Number 42, a tall figure, stepped out of the crowd and with a quick bow of the head, took the dagger from Number 30.

“Thank you,” a husky woman’s voice said.

Number 42 approached a petrified-looking Mike. Mike had squealed like a frightened child when the dagger cut Murphy’s throat open. Now his eyes were closed. His body shook like it was in the grip of mid-seizure. He’d already pissed himself, a last act of rebellion that would stain his death garment.

Becky’s head leaned down the three-person line. She called out to Mike, loud enough for everyone to hear.

“I love you Mike. It’s going to be okay.”

Eda tried to duck her head out of the way. She wanted to step aside, to allow the lovers to get closer, but there was no room to move. Even at the end, the Sinners were denied their dignity.

“B-B-Becky,” Mike said.

Number 42 cut the rope around Mike’s wrists.

Sam.

Sam.

Sam. Sam. Sam.

“Find my sister,” Mike cried out. His eyes strained down the line, pleading with Becky. “Please. Get out of here, go to Boston and find Pam. Tell her I…”

“Mayor Tom Johnson,” Baldilocks called out. “You are the second Sinner. Go down into the hole and confess to Uncle Sam.”

“I love you!” Mike said.

Becky screamed, a wild-high pitched protest. “No!”

The sound of Mike’s throat being sliced open was so close that it sounded like it was happening inside Eda’s head. Number 42 stepped back, blood dripping off the blade. Mike doubled over, staggered backwards like a drunk and then fell into the hole. It happened so fast that Number 42 didn’t even get the chance to perform the coup de grâce – to push him in. At least Mike took that away from her at the end.

The last thing Eda heard was a watery, gurgling noise. Mike sounded like he was trying to scream underwater.

Then he was gone.

Becky screamed over and over again.

Eda charged with wrists bound at the dog heads blocking her path. She didn’t get far before they pushed her back. Becky tried to run too and Eda didn’t know if it was rage, survival instinct or whether the woman was desperately trying to escape so she could fulfill Mike’s dying but impossible request of her. The Children restrained Becky too, blocking all routes of escape. She hopped about wildly. One of the guards locked an arm around Becky’s waist, stopping her from tumbling backwards into the crater prematurely.

“Mike!”

“We’re now halfway through the ceremony,” Baldilocks said. His eyes were burning through the slits in the mask. “Only the President of the United States and the Bank Manager remain. And then mercifully, it will be over.”

Baldilocks glared at Eda, but his words addressed the crowd behind him.

“Number 47,” he said. “The third of the Seekers to deliver.”

Eda’s body lapsed into a state of icy, rigid terror. She was about to die and for a few seconds, couldn’t move a muscle. Couldn’t breathe. She doubled over, burying her face in her hands, squeezing until the tendons in her arms felt like rope. Her guts churned like a typhoon.

She wanted to puke…was going to puke.

Then it passed. Eda straightened up, raising her chin in the air.

Another dog head took the dagger. The masked figure walked up to Eda, minus the detached swagger of the others. The blade in his hand was still dripping fresh blood. It was the darkest, reddest blood Eda had ever seen.

A familiar set of eyes peered out from behind the animal mask.

“David,” Eda said. “So that’s how it works, huh? You get to make the kill on the big day.”

The dog head said nothing.

“Not as easy as it looks,” Eda said. “Is it?”

He came closer and cut the binding on her wrists.

“Don’t have the guts to look me in the eye David?” Eda said, loud enough for everyone to hear. She thrust her face towards the dog snout and David flinched like a shell-shocked man hearing gunfire in the distance. His eyes blinked furiously. She felt both rage and fear seeping out of his skin.

“After what I did for you in New York?” Eda said. “And you can’t even look at me?”

“President of the United States,” Baldilocks said.

Sam.

Sam.

Sam. Sam. Sam.

“Fucking coward,” Eda hissed. “I can’t believe it. I’m going to die at the hands of a fucking wimp from New Jersey.”

When Baldilocks spoke again, Number 47 held up a hand.

“One moment,” he said.

Number 47 pulled the dog mask over his head. That familiar, boyish face had never looked so old.

“Well well well,” Eda said. “Look who decided to show up.”

“You want to look in my eyes?” he said. “That’s what you want? Okay then. You’re right – I owe you one after New York. If that’s what you want then I’ll give it to you. It’s not going to make it any harder for me to do this Eda. You’re still going to die.”

David glanced over his shoulder at Baldilocks. There was a curt nod, a signal for the old man to continue.

“President of the United States,” Baldilocks said.

David walked forward. He put the dagger to Eda’s throat and she couldn’t help but gasp at its jagged bite. Hot blood smeared on her skin, dead men’s leftovers. She couldn’t believe David was going to kill her like this. It didn’t matter that she’d saved his life in New York. He had to do it.

Baldilocks waited a moment before continuing.

“Go down into the…”

A sudden noise cut the old man off in mid-sentence. It sounded like the air being sucked out of a beach ball at lighting speed. At first, Eda thought it was her dying shriek but putting a hand to her throat she realized she wasn’t bleeding.

David was staring at her. Through her. He took a couple of drunken steps backwards.

His shoulder jerked up and down, a violent spasm beyond his control. His face sagged horribly. With a groan, he reached a hand towards his head and it crashed clumsily off the back of his neck. He didn’t give up there. His fingers probed further, reaching past the shoulder; it was like he was looking for something that he couldn’t find. Something on his body.

Slowly, he turned around to look at Baldilocks.

That’s when Eda saw it.

There was an arrow in David’s back.

8

The Children pulled off their dog masks in a hurry. Frantic fingers clawed at straps and when the masks were removed, Eda saw a blurry wall of shocked faces looking at David. Their wide eyes twitched in disbelief. It was as if their minds couldn’t digest the sight of an arrow embedded in the young Seeker’s back.

All of a sudden, Eda heard a lone scream. Frightened murmurings. Mass confusion burst forth around the bombsite like water through a paper dam.

Eda spun around and saw the Children standing at the edge of the crater. They were looking over in Eda’s direction, too far away to get a grip of what was happening. Did they even know they were under attack? Eda’s question was answered when the Children started jumping around in manic half-circles of terror.

She strained her eyes. The gleam of distant swords winked back at her.

“What the hell?” Eda said. “What are they…?”

The Children were attacking one another.

Loud footsteps crashed towards Eda. Coming from behind.

Eda spun back to the front and saw a pale-faced David staggering towards her. A wretched groan spilled out of the man. His right arm was folded over at an impossible angle, hanging above his shoulder like he was still trying to reach the arrow in his back. To get it out, like somehow that would stop the pain. Now the arm just hung there, useless and frozen.

He looked like a ghost already.

“Help me,” he said.

Eda watched him drop to his knees in a crumpled heap. Sweat gushed off his yellowing forehead. With a look of disdain, Eda turned back to the crowd of dog heads gathered around the crater in the distance. They were attacking one another. Eda’s face creased up in confusion. It was like there was madness in the air, turning brother against brother, sister against sister. The screams were frequent; they were high-pitched and cut like a knife.

“What’s going on?” Eda said.

Was there a rogue faction at work within the Children? A pack of rebels attacking their own kind?

“Eda!”

It was Becky’s voice.

Eda battled through a foggy trance and came back to the present moment. She looked to her right and saw Becky’s panicked eyes staring back at her. Becky held up her wrists and Eda saw that she was still bound with rope.

She moved towards Becky but as she did so, David – who was back on his feet – almost crashed into her. He was a runaway boulder with arms and legs. Just inches away from Eda, from the edge. Eda saw the dazed look in his eyes and his arms reached for her still, like she was his only chance of staying afloat in deep water.

Eda caught a glimpse of the sacrificial dagger lying on the ground where David had dropped it. She dodged his wild advances, knelt down and picked it up.

“Help me,” David whispered. “Please Eda…I’m…”

Eda tucked the dagger neatly into her belt. Then she smiled, reached out and placed her hands on David’s shoulders, helping to keep him upright. His eyes lit up and a faint smile formed on his bluish lips.

“It’ll be okay,” she said.

“Thank you,” David said. “Eda, please listen to me. I’m…”

Before he could finish, Eda spun David around so that his back was facing the crater. There was no strength left in the man – it was like dancing with a child’s doll as far as Eda was concerned.

“It’ll be okay,” she said.

It only took the slightest bit of effort for Eda to push him backwards. David’s eyes ballooned with terror as he tumbled over the lip of the crater.

He rolled down the side at tremendous speed, barreling his way over a vast empire of hard, occasionally jagged rock. Pieces of David flew up in the air, like water spurting from a geyser. It was the slow explosion of a man. At the bottom, the bones and bloody flesh of his predecessors awaited him.

Eda took a step back from the crater’s edge. As she did, she dragged Becky alongside her and used the dagger to saw off the rope around the other woman’s wrists. Becky sighed with relief and shook her arms free. Now she looked over the hole, taking in the strange sight of the Children fighting amongst themselves. She looked at Eda and shook her head. Eda shrugged and glanced over at the action yet again.

She stopped dead.

“Oh shit,” Eda said.

Her blood ran cold. Eda walked to the edge of the crater, as far as she could go and then she stopped. All the chaos fell silent in her mind. The world blurred at the edges as her eyes locked onto a weapon, currently being wielded with savage intent by one of the rebels. Even from a distance, Eda could see that it wasn’t a short sword like the ones she’d seen the Children carrying back in camp.

It was a katana sword. A samurai sword.

She looked back and forth, panic leaking like blood through an arterial wound. The rebel faces became instantly recognizable. The truth hit hard. It wasn’t the Children attacking other Children.

“It can’t be,” Eda said.

“What are you talking about?” Becky asked. Her voice was a distant murmur, something lost in the fog of confusion swirling around in Eda’s head.

Eda staggered back from the edge, unable to trust her sense of balance.

She was looking over at the towering figure of Lex – the female giant who stood head and shoulders above almost everyone else. Lex moved like a ballet dancer, spinning gracefully, moving in and out of range while hacking mercilessly at as many Children as her sword could reach. She slashed once, twice then kicked her helpless victims down into the hole.

All the while, she was getting closer to Eda.

Their eyes met from afar. Lex’s face was an angry tapestry of cuts and bruises – a reminder of the damage she’d accumulated in New York courtesy of Frankie Boy. The expression on the chief warrior’s face was even angrier than her wounds.

Lex strode forward with hate in her eyes. A huge man in a dog mask leapt in front of her wielding a short sword. Lex greeted the swordsman with a kick in the chest and that was enough to send him down to Uncle Sam, dog mask still attached to his head.

Eda’s hands were clamped to the top of her head. Her mouth hung open. “Why?” she said. “I left. They let me go for God’s sake!”

Becky grabbed Eda by the arm.

“We need to get out of here,” she said. “You and me. Now!”

Eda was too stunned to respond. In the distance, Lex charged forward, even as she continued to cut down the swathe of Children who tried to fight back valiantly. They probably thought she was going for Baldilocks. Eda knew better.

There were about twenty of the New York warriors in total. It wasn’t much but Eda knew firsthand the damage that just a handful of those women were capable of.

Becky pulled Eda’s arm again and this time Eda relented. They turned and ran towards the steep hill that led towards the road. As they raced forward, Eda removed the small sacrificial dagger from her belt, where it was at risk of cutting her, and put it into the inside pocket of her suit jacket.

Shrill screams pierced the air.

Eda and Becky charged up the hill. Eda’s legs were still paralyzed with shock, not quite functioning at full speed, but Becky didn’t stop dragging her in a bid to make haste.

“C’mon!” Becky yelled. “Keep going Eda.”

Eda staggered forward like an ambitious toddler who hadn’t quite mastered the art of walking, let alone running. Finally, her legs warmed up to the task. Near the top of the hill, she turned around and caught a glimpse of Baldilocks on the outskirts of the crater. He was bouncing on his feet like a madman. Yelling orders. When he saw Eda and Becky making a run for it, still dressed in their sacrificial suits, he pointed uphill and screamed like a man whose property was being stolen in front of his eyes.

His voice soared above the sound of clashing steel. “They belong to Uncle Sam! Bring them back. Bring them back!”

“To the boats,” Becky said. She pointed across the road to the row of short firs that led to the river. With any luck, five canoes would be waiting beside the water.

Eda slammed her arm against the other woman’s chest.

“Hang on a minute,” she said.

“What?” Becky said, looking at Eda like she was crazy. “Wait for what? We need to go.”

“That first arrow,” Eda said. “It went into David’s back. It must have come from the trees over there. What if the archers are still hiding in there and we’re running straight towards them?”

Becky tapped Eda on the shoulder. “You mean those archers?” she said.

She pointed towards a huddle of three warriors standing about thirty feet away from the crater, crouching and firing arrows into the crowd of Children. They were advancing towards Lex and the others, moving away from the trees.

“They spilled out after the first shot,” Becky said. “I think the coast is clear.”

“But there might be more,” Eda said, looking warily at the foreboding wall of firs.

“We’re going to have to take that chance,” Becky said. “Come to think of it, how do we know these girls aren’t on our side? They just saved our lives didn’t they?”

“Trust me,” Eda said, shaking her head. “They’re not on our side.”

Becky tilted her head.

“You know them?” she asked.

Eda nodded. “This isn’t the right time to talk about it.”

Eda and Becky tackled the steep incline and crossed the winding road. They jumped the metal barrier and pushed through the fir trees, coming out by the genteel ghost houses on Riverside Drive. From there, they pumped their arms and legs, running eagerly to the river like two aquatic creatures floundering on dry land.

They trampled through the mini-forest at the edge of the riverbank.

“Shit!” Becky yelled, looking towards the water.

The canoes were drifting away. They were moving in an easterly direction at a very slow pace with the nearest one about ten to fifteen feet from the bank. Three paddles floated gently on the calm surface of the Passaic.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” Becky said, punching at the air. She glanced over her shoulder to see if anyone was coming after them yet.

“It was the warriors, “ Eda said. “They must have ambushed the Children’s camp after we were gone. I guess they traveled down on the last boatload, then probably killed whoever brought them here and didn’t secure the boats.”

Somebody screamed in the background.

“Jesus,” Becky said. “We need to get out of here.”

She looked at Eda with a hopeful expression.

“Can you swim?”

Eda bit her lip. “I swam once when I was young,” she said, “In a river much smaller than this. Actually I wouldn’t really call it swimming.”

Becky raised an eyebrow. “What would you call it?”

“Drowning.”

Becky managed a weak laugh. She pointed to the nearest canoe.

“We just need to reach that one okay?” she said. “You don’t need to be a genius to figure out that a lot of people are going to be coming after us Eda. If we can’t get to one of those canoes, we’re screwed.”

“Yeah,” Eda said in a flat voice. “I know.”

A pause.

“You can do this,” Becky said.

Eda stared at the dirty brown water.

“Sure.”

With that said, Becky leaned forward over the riverbank. She took several deep breaths and then dove headfirst into the Passaic River. There was a light splashing noise – it sounded like a bird dive-bombing the water. A few seconds passed. Eda began to panic, to suspect that something had grabbed Becky under there and pulled her down into the dark depths.

A head popped up out of the water. Becky twisted into position, then her arms cut through the surface as she swam towards the nearest canoe.

She stopped halfway and turned back towards land.

“C’mon!” she called out to Eda. “It’s alright.”

Eda glanced over her shoulder to see if anyone was coming yet. Warriors, Children – they would show up sooner or later on the riverbank. Nothing yet. Then she turned back to the water, heart racing, and with sheer force of will, blocked out all memories of her near drowning incident as a child. The panic. Being pulled down into the darkness. The certainty of death, it never happened.

Her mind locked onto the position of the boat on the water. Then she took a deep breath, followed by another. Slowly, she leaned forward over the grassy bank and stared at the unwelcoming river.

“I can swim.”

Eda closed her eyes. Then she dove into the water and in contrast to Becky’s landing, it sounded like another Uncle Sam bomb crashing into the Passaic.

A rush of cold filled Eda’s body. She found herself in an alien world with very little visibility. Her mind barked out a series of hundred miles per hour commands – don’t panic, move your arms, kick! At the same time, a small, frightened voice reminded Eda that she couldn’t swim. And the voice wouldn’t go away. What was she doing in a river for God’s sake? Nothing – neither reassurance nor panic could prevent her body from sinking now.

Eda moved her arms and legs. She did what she thought was right – plowed and kicked with her limbs and yet it only made things worse.

A deep churning noise filled her head. The river was inside, choking her.

Panic slipped away after a moment or two. If this was drowning then it wasn’t as bad as Eda had always imagined it to be. Not if she stopped fighting and just let go. Surrender. It wasn’t cold, in fact it was warm and comforting somehow. Everything would be over, including her worries. No more warriors. No more Uncle Sam.

Let go. Let the water fill your lungs then.

And yet something wouldn’t let go. Eda found herself clawing relentlessly through the water, reaching for the surface again. Reaching for daylight. Her fingers grasped at the cold liquid like it was a piece of rope she could use to pull herself back up.

There was a sudden jarring sensation. Space and time ceased to exist and for a few moments, Eda was outside of herself. Watching herself drown. Then something hard bumped into her and brought her back. Now it felt like she was floating instead of sinking.

And then she broke through the surface, gasping for air. It was like waking up from the worst nightmare she’d ever had. The murky light of the sky was right there over Eda’s head again, having replaced the dark, grotesque roof of the river.

She was in the middle of the Passaic River and there was a canoe floating immediately to her right. Becky was in the water and she was pulling Eda towards the boat. She had one arm wrapped around Eda’s waist and the other was dragging through the surface, bringing them closer to the boat.

“Climb up,” Becky said, when they reached the side of the canoe. She was gasping for breath as she spoke. “Grip the edge and push yourself over.”

Eda reached up but in her panic, she pushed the boat instead of grabbing a hold of it. The boat bobbed away from the two women, daring them to try again.

Becky cursed, then pulled them closer. Eda coughed relentlessly.

“Reach up and grab the edge,” Becky said. Then a new panic filled her voice. “Jesus Christ. Eda…those women, they’re at the edge of the river. They’re coming after us. C’mon, please. I need you to grab the edge of the boat Eda. Holy shit!”

Eda heard a splashing noise in the distance. When she turned her head the other way she caught a brief glimpse of the warriors swimming towards the other boats, which were about fifty feet away from where Eda and Becky were.

Eda reached for the canoe again.

The boat swayed towards her too fast and it knocked her off balance. With hope fading, she tried for a third time and with Becky’s help, Eda hurled herself into the canoe with such force that she landed on the wooden base with a yelp.

Becky climbed into the boat effortlessly and grabbed the paddle. There was only one in the canoe.

“Oh shit,” Becky said, looking over her shoulder. Her eyes were alight with terror. “What did you do to those women Eda? What the hell did you do?”

Eda sat upright, coughing ferociously.

“Long story,” she said in a hoarse voice.

She glanced over her shoulder.

The warriors were swimming towards the other canoes – an abandoned fleet of four that were scattered further up the river. Eda counted around nine or ten warriors in total, including Lex. The chief warrior cut through the surface of the Passaic like her life depended on it.

“Can you row this thing?” Eda said, turning to Becky.

Becky nodded, keeping her eyes on the river.

“Fortunately that’s one thing I can do,” she said. “Don’t worry about it – I’ll get us out of here.”

Becky paddled hard, plowing the wooden stick through the water in long, deep strokes. The canoe took off at an impressive speed. Eda felt a wave of fresh hope rising up inside, but she didn’t allow herself to get carried away.

“I swear to God Mike,” Becky said. “I’m going to Boston. I’m going there for both of us and I’ll find Pam, dead or alive.”

As Becky talked to herself, Eda could smell the river all over their clothes. It smelled like shit and dirt and puke all wrapped into one foul super-odor. It was in her throat too; she could taste the Passaic like she was still in it.

“I hate this swamp,” she said.

She coughed again, keeping an eye on things at their back. Further downriver, the warrior pack had already climbed into one of the vacant canoes, leaving the other three to drift. They’d overloaded the boat, which with any luck would slow them down.

Eda was about to inform Becky of this when some of the Children appeared at the riverbank. There were about thirty at least. Most of them had pulled their gray robes off and Eda could see their camouflage colors once again, blending in perfectly with the earthy shades of the Meadows.

Eda couldn’t see Baldilocks. She imagined him back at the crater, still hopping like a man trapped on hot coals, yelling orders, demanding that Uncle Sam’s Sinners be captured and brought back to face justice.

Seconds later, one by one, the cult members dove into the river. They made it look graceful and effortless, like they were returning to their natural habitat.

When they surfaced in the water, the Children began to swim towards the remaining canoes.

9

Becky was a strong rower. As well as her natural skills with a paddle, the adrenaline rush fueled body and mind, giving her that extra surge of emergency power to push the canoe through the water with superhuman strength. This, along with the head start they had over their pursuers, both the warriors and Children, gave Eda and Becky a fighting chance.

Eda sat next to Becky while land flashed by on either side. While Becky kept her eyes out front, Eda concentrated on the progress of their pursuers. The warriors’ canoe was an angry dot on the horizon. Their overcrowded boat, powered by a single paddle was betraying their ambition. As for the Children, Eda couldn’t see them but she knew they’d also have overloaded the three canoes and would have a hard time of building speed. With any luck, both parties would impede the other’s progress, buying the two Sinners time to escape.

From a distance, Eda could see two of the archers up on their feet, pointing their bows to the sky, shooting arrows at something behind them. Eda heard a cacophony of angry shouts, battle cries in the distance.

That’s it, she thought. Kill each other.

She turned back to the front, at least a little relieved.

“Where are we going anyway?” she asked.

Becky shrugged.

“Back to camp?”

“Is that a question?” Eda said, looking at the other woman.

“Guess not,” Becky said. She was breathing in a slow, deliberate manner. It looked like she was fully in control of herself and Eda was impressed by her composure. She wondered briefly about Becky’s past but this wasn’t the time for a get to know one another discussion. There would be time for that later.

“If we can get back to the Children’s camp,” Becky said, “I might be able to find my way back to the Two Bridges Road.”

“The Two what?” Eda said.

“It’s a road north of the Children’s camp,” Becky said, with a quick shake of her head. “That’s all I know. It’s a long shot but if we can find that road we’re back in business. And by back in business I mean we’re out of the Meadows and home free. Some of us anyway…”

Becky’s eyes glistened. Survival instinct had pushed grief aside, at least for now.

“You know where we get off here?” Eda asked.

Becky pursed her lips and took a long and intense look at their surroundings. “For the Children’s camp?”

“Yeah,” Eda said. “This damn swamp – it all looks the same to me.”

“I think so,” Becky said. “It’s a little cove-shaped bay on the river, right? There’s a bunch of trees overhanging the water and there’s one of them in particular that looks like it’s almost horizontal. You could lie on your back and sunbathe on that mother if you wanted to.”

“I remember it,” Eda said. The horizontal tree that Becky was talking about was pretty distinctive. Its gnarled, purplish-blue trunk extended from the bank, leaning towards the water in a gravity-defying manner. When she’d first seen it, Eda had imagined lying on that trunk and letting her arms slide down to caress the cool water.

“Keep your eyes peeled,” Becky said. “We can’t be too far away. We’re getting out of here, alright? If it’s the last thing I do I’m going to find that Two Bridges Road, walk the rest of the way to Boston and I’m going to find Pam.”

Becky’s entire body was trembling.

“Pam is Mike’s twin sister?” Eda said. “Right?”

“Yeah.”

“What will you say to her?” Eda said. “If she’s…alive.”

“I’ll tell her that Mike never forgot about her,” Becky said. “Because he never did. He never stopped loving or missing his sister. Twins, damn it. I’ll tell her that he was on his way back to Boston to find her. And I’ll tell her why it took us so long, I’ll tell her about little…”

Becky stopped. She made a loud, hacking noise that sounded like she was clearing something stuck in her throat.

“About little what?” Eda asked.

Becky’s face was a block of stone.

“Just keep your eyes peeled Eda,” she said. “Okay? We can’t afford to miss that little harbor.”

They sat in silence. Eda was overjoyed to see no sign of either the warriors or the Children behind them. There was only an empty view stretching out at their backs, and it was hard to believe in that moment that Eda and Becky weren’t the only two people in the swamp. Under other circumstances, it would have been a blissful journey through a forgotten, unspoiled world.

The Passaic River was a permanent chocolate brown color. Tall trees stooped over the edge of the riverbank, their image barely reflected in the dull surface of the water. As Eda sat in the canoe, searching for the Children’s harbor, she realized that the entirety of the Meadows consisted of mostly two colors – green and brown. It was like she was traveling through a watercolor scene painted by an artist from the nineteenth century. Eda had seen those types of paintings in the old Met museum in New York. She’d always marveled at how she could smell the damp earth just by looking at them.

“No sign?” Becky said, glancing over he shoulder.

“Nah,” Eda said. “They’ve put too many people in the boats. With any luck they’ve overturned. I don’t know if the warriors have ever done this kind of thing before. Not much call for canoeing skills in the middle of Manhattan.”

“So who are these women?” Becky said. “What did you call them – warriors? What the hell are they doing here in the swamp chasing you like this?”

“I think they want to take me back to New York,” Eda said.

“No shit.”

“It’s either that or they’ve come here to kill me.”

“What did you do to them?” Becky asked. “Are you a runaway or something?”

“No,” Eda said. “They let me go. I was free to walk and I walked. It doesn’t make any sense for them to come after me like this. Haven’t really had a chance to ask them and I don’t want to for that matter.”

Becky took another look downriver. With the coast clear, she held her paddle arm aloft, stretching her exhausted muscles and taking deep lungfuls of fresh air. She wiped a pool of sweat off her forehead and closed her eyes.

“Hell of a workout,” she said.

“I’ll paddle for a while,” Eda said.

Becky opened her eyes and shook her head. “It’s not as easy as it looks,” she said. “I just need a minute and…”

But Eda reached over and snatched the paddle out of Becky’s hand before she could finish the sentence.

“Don’t be a martyr,” she said. “I can do it.”

Eda budged over, swapping places with Becky so that she was at the far side of the boat. She gripped the wooden handle and plunged the paddle into the water, using long, deep strokes like she’d seen Becky do. Right away she realized it was harder than it looked. Much harder. The canoe swayed to the side, no longer under human command. Eda was taking it closer to the riverbank.

“What the…?” Eda said.

Becky didn’t say anything. She sat poker-faced, not moving.

Eda squeezed the handle tighter, stabbing the water angrily in a bid to correct their course.

She stole a worried glance behind her. A barrage of voices drifted up the river like a rolling fog. Men and women’s voices – all intermingled in one dissonant roar, coming closer.

“I fucking hate boats,” Eda said, plowing the paddle through the water. There was little grace in her stroke and the canoe continued to rebel against her touch. “I hate rivers too. And I hate swamps most of all. If I make it out of here Becky, I don’t ever want to see any more boats, rivers or swamps in all my life. I’m making that promise to myself here today. I’m a city girl damn it.”

Becky gently lifted the paddle out of Eda’s hand. They switched places and she resumed her position as rower.

“When you make it out of here,” she said. “Thanks for the break Eda.”

Becky corrected the runaway canoe and a few minutes later, sat bolt upright on the bench. It was like she’d sat on something sharp.

“I see it!” she said. She poked an elbow into Eda’s arm. Eda looked up and saw a tiny little bay tucked into the edge of the riverbank. The familiar hanging trees leaned far over the edge like old friends waiting for the two women to return.

“Thank God,” Eda said. “At the very least I get to feel dry land under my feet again. If only I had time to get out of this goddamn suit. It’s soaking wet.”

“I don’t think we’ve got time to change,” Becky said.

“Yeah,” Eda said. “I know. I’ll settle for finding Frankie Boy. God, I hope he’s alright.”

Becky steered the boat towards the water’s edge. Although she was sweating and breathing hard, her eyes were bright. She’d needed that boost of finding the harbor. Eda felt the same. And although they still had a lot of running to do before they found the Two Bridges Road, they were at least a long way from the rim of Uncle Sam’s crater.

“Listen,” Becky said, jumping out of the boat first. She turned around and offered a hand to Eda. “We gotta be careful. Your friends stole the Children’s costumes but we don’t know if they killed everyone. Some of them might be on the loose around here.”

“My bet?” Eda said, taking Becky’s hand and stepping onto dry land. “They’re all dead. Lex and the warriors wouldn’t leave any prisoners behind, not if they could help it. Mercy isn’t exactly their style, you know?”

Eda and Becky hurried through the swamp back to the Children’s camp. When they got there they found bodies lying everywhere. It wasn’t a surprise but that didn’t make looking at the bloody aftermath any easier. The corpses were scattered throughout camp, their camouflage clothes stained with patches of dark blood. As well as men and women, Eda saw one dark-haired little boy of about eleven lying in a grotesque pose, limbs pointing in a multitude of directions. He looked like a doll that an angry child had tried to break. Cloudy pale blue eyes stared lifelessly up at the sky.

“Oh shit,” Becky said. She was staring intently at the dead boy.

Eda clamped a hand over her nose and mouth as if the air was toxic.

“These bitches are savages,” Becky said, creeping closer to the boy. An army of flies danced gleefully around his fresh corpse. “Fucking heartless savages. Look what they did to him.”

“They’ll do the same to us,” Eda said in a flat voice. “If they find us. Frankie Boy! C’mere dog.”

A strange, high-pitched barking noise from deep inside the swamp stopped both women in their tracks. It wasn’t Frankie Boy, but whatever it was it didn’t sound welcoming.

“What the hell was that?” Becky said. “That wasn’t a dog, was it?”

“No,” Eda said. “That’s not Frankie Boy. God knows what else is out there.”

Looking around, Eda crouched down beside a small pile of bodies. She gagged on the foul odor of decaying flesh and with a grimace, picked up two short swords lying next to the death mound. Then she stood up and offered one of the swords to Becky.

“You any good with one of these?” she asked.

“I’m good with a paddle,” Becky said. There was a reluctant look on her face.

“Take it anyway,” Eda said, forcing the weapon into the woman’s hands. The swords were heavier than they looked and the weight would take some getting used to. “We might need it if we run into whatever’s barking out there. And if we miss that, we’ve always got the warriors and the Children to worry about. At the very least, you’ll look more frightening with a sword than with a paddle.”

They heard voices in the swamp. Somewhere close by.

Becky’s face was as white as snow. “We have to find that road,” she said.

Eda nodded. “I know.”

A sudden snapping noise to Eda’s right made her jump. Something was coming towards them, stalking them across fallen branches on light feet. For a second, she thought they’d blown it – that they’d waited too long and now the warriors or the Children had caught up with them and that was it – game over. It was either back to New York or throat slit and tossed into the Fairfield crater. Little wonder then that Eda almost cried out with relief when the beautiful sight of Frankie Boy came bounding through a wall of bushes.

“Frankie!”

When he saw Eda, the German Shepherd ran across the clearing towards her, ears down and tail wagging. He looked as overjoyed as Eda felt.

“Thank God,” she said, kneeling down and burying her face in the black and tan coat. It was damp and yet it smelled divine.

“Eda for Christ’s sake!” Becky said. She was looking across the clearing towards the happy reunion. Her eyes ballooned with fear, as if she was expecting a horde of murderous, sword wielding women to barge through the foliage at any second.

“Right,” Eda said. “C’mon Frankie.”

They moved fast.

It wasn’t easy going, making their escape through the Meadows. On multiple occasions, their feet became weighed down in the black oozy mud. At times Eda felt like she was running on the spot. The landscape was rugged and the swamp, very much a living thing, wanted them to fail. Eda pushed through. She saw the empty road in her mind and felt the joy of standing there with the world and all its doors wide open. The road was opportunity and freedom.

Surely it was only a matter of time. It was just ahead of her, always.

The odd chink of sunlight stole past the clouds and it made the grass look like long strands of white crystal. Now and then, Eda and Becky would stumble upon the remains of a dirt path, forged by feet from the old world. These disappearing pathways were a reminder that people, such as Baldilocks and his father, had once visited the Meadows for recreation. Eda thought it madness to come to such a place to relax. There were other reminders of the past too. At one point, Eda saw an overturned table and chairs, withering to the point that it had become one with the landscape. Eda tried to imagine them, the people of yesteryear, sitting by the riverbank, drinking tea and laughing. The picture in her head wasn’t clear. It seemed too far-fetched.

Becky slowed down a little and Eda, whose legs were surprisingly fresh, took the lead.

About a minute later, she stopped dead. She pointed a finger ahead, noticing as she did that her hand was trembling.

There was something up there – something in between a tight row of river birch trees.

And it was looking at her.

“You see that?” she said. “Becky, do you see it?”

It was the Uncle Sam mask. There it was, peering out at the two women from in between the narrow gap in the trees. Hideous and grinning. Long strands of stringy, gray hair spilled down from the back and sides of the mask.

Eda thought she could hear him laughing. She staggered backwards and her boots made a loud squelching noise underneath.

“Baldilocks!” she yelled. “I see you.”

Becky caught up with her at last.

“What is it?” Becky said. Her shoulders sagged wearily and she gasped for breath. Frightened eyes searched the landscape, trying to find the source of Eda’s outburst.

Eda was still pointing towards the gap in between the two river birches. She was like a statue, frozen in terror.

There was nothing there.

Eda dropped her arm, shaking her head.

“I don’t see it,” Becky said. “I don’t see anything at all Eda.”

“It was there,” Eda said.

“Are you alright?” Becky said, looking at Eda with a concerned expression. “There’s no one there Eda. How could Baldilocks be here if he didn’t even get in the canoes with the others? There’s no way that old bastard could get in front of us.”

Eda ran a hand through her damp hair. She was well aware of how crazy she must have seemed in that moment. Loco, as Lucia back in the Complex would say. “Thought I saw something.”

“You know what it is?” Becky said. “It’s this place. It’s fucking with us.”

“I guess.”

All of a sudden, a deer bounded out from behind a large bush up ahead. It was a big animal and it skipped away in the opposite direction, trying to get clear of the three intruders who’d appeared in its territory.

Both Eda and Becky shrieked.

Frankie Boy charged after the deer, barking furiously. Eda watched the dog take off with a look of horror in her eyes.

“Frankie!” she hissed. “No!” She ran after the dog but he was gone before she could even get started.

“Come back Frankie!” Eda said, slowing to a halt.

“Forget it Eda,” Becky said. “That dog’s got a mind of his own. You can’t stop him doing what he wants.”

“Shit,” Eda said. She looked into the wetlands, trying to pry him back with willpower alone. But Frankie was gone.

“Where the hell are we?” she said. The rancid smell of the river drifted up from her suit, choking Eda quietly. It was a constant reminder of almost drowning.

As far as Eda was concerned, they were trapped in a giant green labyrinth. One that didn’t want to let them go.

“Are you sure we’re going north?” she asked Becky.

Becky shrugged. “I think so,” she said. “When Mike and I first got here, Baldilocks gave us a tour. We came up this way first. Baldilocks said this was their hunting grounds. And you know what that means right? It means they know this place well. A hell of a lot better than we do.”

“That’s just great,” Eda said.

Becky nodded. “What the fuck have we done?”

“It’s too late to turn back,” Eda said.

Her eyes darted back and forth across the rugged terrain. She was still keeping an eye out for Frankie Boy, hoping he’d come back at the last minute.

“We’d better keep going,” Becky said. “We can’t be too far away now. Right? I mean, how big can this place be?”

“Sure,” Eda said. “We’re close.”

At that moment, the Two Bridges Road felt like a long way away. Eda sensed it and she was sure that Becky did too.

A noise up ahead.

It sounded like someone walking on fallen branches.

Eda looked towards the huddle of birch trees where she’d imagined seeing the Uncle Sam mask a few minutes earlier.

There was something there. There really was something there.

“Oh Christ,” Eda said. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Becky. Over there.”

“Holy shit,” Becky said.

It was a man.

He stepped out from behind the trees, dressed in a camouflage jacket and matching pants. It wasn’t Baldilocks but it was one of the Children. He was an older man, perhaps sixty with a full head of gray hair and fat cheeks that sagged into jowls. His eyes were an intense, otherworldly blue. There was a short sword in his hand and Eda saw a splatter of blood on its distinct, leaf-shaped blade.

“Uh-oh,” Becky said.

Eda guessed he was a survivor – perhaps the only survivor from the warriors’ attack on the Children’s camp. Had he fought to the end with his people? Or had he run away, deserting everyone including the dead boy?

“You’re the Sinners,” he said. His voice was unpleasant, like a bite inside the ears. He acted as if Eda and Becky’s presence was a personal insult. With a fat finger, he pointed to their suits, the purpose of which he must have known. “You’ve been chosen. You can’t leave Uncle Sam hanging like that or he’ll...no, no, no. It’ll never be over unless you go back.”

Becky’s sword arm hung limp at her side. It was like she’d forgotten the weapon was there and as the man talked, she backed off.

It was Eda who stepped forward, brandishing her sword in the air. The steel was heavy and nothing felt good or familiar about it. It was like wielding a skyscraper. But it was all she had and she had to at least make sure she looked comfortable with the blade. If she could scare the old man off they might avoid an unpleasant, not to mention time-consuming confrontation.

“You’re in our way mister,” she said. “Look, we don’t want any trouble. Just let us go past and we’ll pretend like we never saw one another.”

The man approached Eda slowly. His eyes burned with blue fire.

“You belong to Uncle Sam.”

Eda’s hands were shaking but she came forward with false bravado. The warriors and the Children were on their tail, probably not far behind, and they had to get past this man. Quickly.

“You could just go,” she said. “Forget all this Uncle Sam crap and take off. We both know it’s not real, don’t we? There doesn’t have to be any more blood spilled today. We saw what happened in camp back there. That must have been hard…”

To her surprise, the man smiled. “You must be joking little girl.”

“No,” Eda said, her brow creasing in a mix of anger and frustration. “I’m not. Let us go or you’re going to end up like them. Dead in a swamp.”

A look of indignation flashed across the old man’s face. He raised his sword and walked towards Eda at a terrifyingly rapid pace.

Eda glanced over at Becky. She was frozen to the spot, feet trapped in the mud, her eyes locked onto the sword in the man’s hands.

“It’s going to be alright,” Eda said, nodding at her.

She turned around and charged forward. Her opponent wasn’t smiling anymore. As Eda rushed in with sword aloft, the man wheezed in horror. His already wrinkled face aged twenty years in a split second. Eda realized now that he’d been trying to psych her out all along and that the last thing he wanted was a fight.

Too late.

The swords made a loud clanging noise as they clashed. The old man did his best to fight back but it quickly became apparent that he was no fighter and that he probably hadn’t held a weapon in years. His swing was slow and clumsy. Predictable. Eda pushed him backwards, using a combination of speed and skill and brute force. Had she been fighting one of the warriors, her limitations with the short sword would have been exposed. Fatally. Fortunately what she had was enough for this encounter.

The man’s defense became non-existent as his arms tired. After a feeble attack, he left himself wide open. Eda saw it, leapt forward and with lightning fast speed, slashed the tip of the blade across his ample waist like she was trying to spill his insides onto the dirt.

He shrieked and dropped to his knees. The sword tilted to the side, then slipped from his grip.

Eda took a step back and surveyed the damage while she caught her breath. The man was bleeding out badly from the middle. He snarled like a threatened animal, touching the wound repeatedly to confirm that it was real and then he let go, knowing that his escape from death earlier that day had only been a temporary reprieve. His face was eerily calm.

“Let’s go Eda,” Becky said. She was behind Eda now, tugging on her arm like she wanted to pull it off. “For God’s sake.”

But Eda knew they couldn’t leave, not yet. The old man was still conscious. And when the warriors or the Children showed up he’d be capable of giving them information about the two Sinners. At the very least he’d confirm their presence in the hunting grounds.

The man grunted. His blue eyes were on Eda, as if he could read her mind. Unlike Becky, he knew what she had to do next.

“You should have let us pass,” Eda said.

“You can’t escape,” the old man said through a coughing fit. His face was a sickly shade of white. “Nobody escapes.”

Eda took a long, deep breath. She tightened her grip on the hilt. Then she charged forward and with all the strength she could muster, buried the sword deep in the man’s chest. There was a loud ripping noise, like the sky being torn in half. The blade cut through him like his skin was paper. The man screamed, just for a second but it was enough of a primal roar that it sent a barrage of shivers down Eda’s spine.

Eda stepped back. She watched him, panting like a dog on a hot day, gasping loudly before at last he fell over and curled up into a ball.

More wheezing. Eventually he stopped moving.

Becky approached the corpse in slow motion. Her shoulders were heaving, her breath out of control. “You killed him,” she said, turning back to Eda. She spoke quietly, as if they were intruders on sacred ground. “Holy shit.”

Eda hurried over, knelt down and began hurling leaves, sticks and dirt over the body. Anything she could find. She worked relentlessly and alone. When the remains were hidden, she got back to her feet.

Eda reached for the collar of the shirt. Her fingers pulled at the tie, searching, wrestling back and forth until the knot was loose.

At last, she could breathe.

10

Eda and Becky fought their way through this hostile maze, through Great Piece Meadows, as best they could. Wooden limbs, extending out of fat trunks, and spear-like branches, made a grab for them as they hurried past. The swamp floor devoured their legs up to the knees at times. These muddy trenches were becoming more common the further they went into the hunting grounds. As a result, valuable energy was expended in the basics of movement. The rewards were pitiful.

It didn’t feel like they were getting closer to anything that mattered. Everything was a repeat of what they’d just battled through moments earlier. It was as if the landscape was constantly imitating itself to fool them. To drive them mad.

They were slowing down too. There was a muggy heat enclosed within the swamp and it was robbing them of oxygen.

Because of the slow pace, Eda noticed something that she hadn’t seen before. It was something that broke the unchanging rhythm of the monotonous environment. More importantly, it was something that allowed her to hope again. The trees were marked, at least some of them were. Marked with shapes. At first, Eda didn’t pay too much attention to it but when these landmarks kept showing up time and time again, spaced twenty or thirty feet apart, she realized it wasn’t just random swamp graffiti. It had to mean something.

There were only two shapes – circles and triangles. Crude carvings in the heart of the trunk. And there was always just one shape per tree. Each marked tree had a twin nearby, about ten feet away, standing parallel to the other. The next set of markings, thirty feet further north, would feature a different shape from the previous set, but it was essentially the same thing over and over again – two trees running parallel, with a wide gap in between. There was clear design on display. And as time went on, Eda became convinced that she was looking at a trail on the Meadows’ floor.

“You see that?” Eda said.

Becky had been quiet since the old man’s death. As she looked at the nearest set of marked trees, she cleared her throat.

“Shapes? Oh yeah, I see them.”

“I’ve been thinking about it,” Eda said. “Wanna know what I think? It might be some kind of mapping system designed by the Children. Or maybe it was put there by the people who came here before the Children – you know? We’ve seen tables and chairs and other things left over from the past. People used to come here all the time before the war. How did they find their way around? Don’t you see Becky? I’m talking about directions. That right there might be our way out of here.”

“A map?” Becky said.

“Why not?” Eda said. “You’ve got to admit, it’s pretty easy to get lost in here and…”

She was about to say – let’s face it, we’re probably lost already – but decided against it.

“Look at it Becky,” Eda said. She could hear the enthusiasm in her voice again. Despite this, the two women kept their distance from the carved trees, cautious spectators hovering in between faith and skepticism.

“I see the carvings,” Becky said. “But what makes you think it’s a map?”

“Not a map so much,” Eda said. “More like road signs.”

“I still don’t see it,” Becky said, shaking her head.

“You’ve got two trees with markings,” Eda said. “In each set there are always two trees with either circles or triangles. A narrow path runs straight through the middle, you see that? It’s kind of beaten down but it looks like a trail. You go through that and then it’s a short walk to the next set. I don’t know Becky, it looks to me like it’s leading somewhere. Go through the trees and you’re following the route.”

“But where?” Becky said. “If that is a route marked out, where’s it taking people?”

“Two Bridges Road?” Eda said. “Why the hell not? We’re going north aren’t we?”

Becky looked at the markings again. She scratched her arm, leaving an angry red patch. “Maybe we’re just seeing what we want to see Eda.”

“Maybe,” Eda said. “But maybe not.”

“And the circles and triangles?” Becky asked. She tilted her head to the side a little. “Why the different shapes?”

Eda sighed. “Who knows?” she said. “Maybe they got bored. Who cares as long as it takes us to the road?”

“I guess it could be a path,” Becky said. She sounded a little less doubtful.

“I think the Children made it,” Eda said. “The grass looks kind of beat down in between the trees, doesn’t it? That’s a fresh trail if you ask me. Think about it. It only makes sense they use some sort of mapping system to find their way around this place. They’ve probably got them all over the swamp.”

“So do we follow it?” Becky said. “I guess we’ve got nothing to lose right?”

Eda held up a hand. She strained her ears, certain that she’d picked up on voices behind them.

“Warriors,” she said quietly. “They’re catching up.”

Becky shook her head slowly. Her haggard features suggested a cocktail of emotions – fear and exasperation. There was something unnerving about being the centerpiece of an enduring, determined pursuit. About being hunted. But it was annoying too, it was damn annoying. Why couldn’t they just leave her alone?

“Okay,” Becky said. She put a hand on Eda’s shoulder and squeezed. “We follow the Children’s map. Right?”

Eda nodded. “We don’t have a choice,” she said. “Not if we want to get out.”

They walked quickly towards the marked trees. As they did they heard that eerie high-pitched yapping sound again – the one they’d heard back in the Children’s camp. It was closer this time, even though it still sounded like it was deep inside the Meadows.

“That’s a scary fucking noise,” Becky said, glancing in all directions. “But I think I’ve figured out what that is. It’s a deer barking – apparently they do that you know.”

“Sounds like he’s telling us to run faster,” Eda said.

“Yep,” Becky said. “That’s exactly what he’s saying. Wanna know why? He lives in the hunting grounds and he knows only too well what happens to the hunted when they get caught.”

At that moment, Frankie Boy came trotting through the dirt. He had a panting grin on his face.

“You little bastard,” Eda said, stroking him behind the ears. “You’re having the time of your life in here aren’t you? Hey guess what? We might have found a way out of this shithole at last. You ready to run?”

She leaned closer and Frankie Boy licked her on the face. His stale breath almost knocked her dizzy.

“Jesus,” Eda said, recoiling backwards. “What have you been eating?” She wiped her face dry of dog spit.

“Let’s hope this trail doesn’t lead us back to Camp Crazy,” Becky said. “That would just about finish me off I reckon.”

She walked towards the marked trees. Despite her words, her stride was confident.

“Alright,” she said. “Deep breaths. Here we go.”

Becky led the way, running in between the first set, two triangles about fifteen feet apart. Eda followed close behind. Frankie Boy took his own route, running on the outskirts of the trees.

They set a swift pace.

The next set of marked trees, two circles on the trunks, appeared up ahead. Becky glanced over her shoulder and grinned at Eda. It was a big grin, full of hope. Her eyes were alight and Eda knew that Becky could see the tall skyline of Boston again, just up ahead.

“We’re getting out,” Becky roared.

Eda smiled.

Becky charged through the gap in between the circled trees. Seconds later, an explosion of noise made Eda stop dead in her tracks. Like she’d crashed into a brick wall. At first she didn’t know what was going on. In a split second, everything happened. She’d heard a vicious, metallic crunch followed by the worst scream ever.

It was Becky.

“AGGGHH!!”

Her leg was caught in a steel-jaw trap.

“No!” Eda yelled, running over to her. “No, no!”

She dropped to the dirt and her hands frantically probed the trap. It had been nailed into the earth but to secure it further, a long piece of metal chain had been fastened around the base of a tree trunk. Most of the trap was buried under a mound of grass and dirt. Now it returned to the surface, victorious and with prey.

“Fuck,” Eda said. A single tear ran down her cheek. “This isn’t happening.”

Becky’s face was horribly contorted as she looked down at the damage. She’d dropped the sword when the steel jaws had shut around her lower leg. Now she fell onto her backside, both hands clawing helplessly at the trap.

“Oh God,” she hissed. Her face was scorched red with pain.

Eda realized their mistake, far too late. It wasn’t a map they’d been following after all. And it wasn’t road signs either. They were on a hunting trail and those carved shapes on the trunks weren’t indicating the route to the Two Bridges Road. The markings pointed to where the Children’s hidden traps had been set. It was a miracle that Eda and Becky hadn’t triggered the first set of markings they’d raced through just moment before this one. Maybe some of the traps didn’t work anymore. Maybe they were just old.

It didn’t matter. Not now.

Eda crouched down beside Becky, an arm locked around the woman’s shoulder. Her knees sunk into the spongy surface of the swamp.

The serrated jaws had clamped down tight around the ankle. The trap’s jagged teeth had pierced through Becky’s suit pants and the initial struggle after it was triggered had only made the wound angrier.

“Becky,” Eda said, placing a hand on the woman’s back. It was soaking wet. “Don’t worry, I’m going to get you out.”

Becky was on the brink of hyperventilating. She gripped her leg tight with both hands while Eda probed at the trap, searching for the release trigger. There had to be something – a lever or a switch that would open the jaws. She pulled and pushed at everything she saw. Not a damn thing worked. The chilling thought came to Eda that maybe the release lever was broken. After all, the first trap hadn’t sprung. Maybe this one was partly broken too. For all Eda knew, these traps had been out here for months, years maybe.

“This fucking thing…” Eda screamed. It felt like her head was about to explode. She pulled at the jaws with all her strength but they were razor sharp and clamped tight. Her arms felt like they were going to snap. Several minor cuts had opened up on her hand.

Becky looked at Eda, tears flooding down her cheeks. Her shoulders sagged to the dirt.

“It’s over,” she said.

Eda shook her head. She gritted her teeth, not taking her eyes off the trap.

“I’m getting you out of this,” she said. “Don’t worry about a thing Becky.”

She jumped up to her feet and picked up one of the swords lying on the dirt. Gripping the handle tight, Eda hacked furiously at the metal chain fastened around the tree.

“Eda,” Becky called over. “Stop. Just give it up.”

But Eda didn’t stop. She kept chopping at the chain like a madwoman. Hoping for a miracle to show up.

Clink-clink-clink…

“You’re wasting time!” Becky said. “Eda, you have to give it up now. NOW! Even if you somehow got the trap off my ankle I won’t be able to run.”

“Then I’ll carry you,” Eda yelled. “I’ll carry you out of here if I have to.”

She looked at Becky and saw a look of resignation in the other woman’s face.

“You have to keep running Eda,” Becky said. “This thing, it’s not over for you, not if you keep moving. Remember what Murphy said about movement – it’s what keeps you alive, right? That’s never been truer than right now.”

“I can get it off,” Eda said, glaring at the chain.

She raised the sword over her head. Becky intercepted the strike with a scolding tone, sharper than any blade.

“No,” she called out. “It’s over Eda – it’s over. All you’re doing by staying here is killing yourself. And I sure as hell don’t want you to do that.”

Becky winced with pain as she spoke. Her skin was a ghoulish white and her breathing was slowing down.

Eda looked at Becky and dropped onto her knees in frustration. Frankie Boy walked in and out, ears down and looking at Eda in intently, seemingly confused by the energy going around. Or maybe he already knew what Eda didn’t want to accept.

Eda hurried over to Becky’s side once again. Her eyes scoured the trap, searching for the answer to an impossible question. Going over old ground, she pulled at anything that might have been a lever.

It was a dead end.

Becky wiped her face dry of tears and sweat. It looked like she was trying to make herself presentable for what was coming. She reached out and grabbed Eda’s hand, giving it a squeeze. In that single gesture, Eda felt the woman’s strength fading.

“Maybe you’ll get to Boston someday,” Becky said. “You’ll go back east. Right?”

Eda nodded.

“Well,” Becky said, swallowing a mouthful of pain, “if you ever bump into a woman called Pam Burton in the south end, tell her that Mike tried to find her. Tell her about me too, I only wish I could have met her. Who knows? Maybe she’s checked out already and the reunion with Mike has already happened. But if somehow she’s still alive…I know, I know, it’s a long shot, but just tell her that Mike and I, we had a daughter. We called her little Pam. Will you do that?”

“You had a daughter?” Eda said.

“Once,” Becky said.

“That’s why you waited so long before traveling east?”

Becky nodded. “Little Pam was the fragile sort,” she said. “Too fragile for the old world let alone this fucked up version. I’m surprised but thankful we had her as long as we did.”

Eda didn’t ask what had happened. Knowing wouldn’t make it easier for anyone. Instead, she looked at the trap again, still pushing and pulling, hoping for a last minute reprieve.

Becky squeezed Eda’s hand again. “You need to go now,” she said.

“I can’t leave you like this,” Eda said. “How the hell am I supposed to leave you like this?”

“Go!” Becky said. She pulled her hand away from Eda.

Eda shook her head stubbornly.

“Listen to me,” Becky said, sitting up a little. “That bastard Baldilocks only wins if he gets all four of us. That’s why you’ve got to make it out of this swamp. You have to beat him. You have to get away from the Children, from the warriors. Somehow you’ve got to keep going.”

Becky reached for the handle of the short sword lying next to her. Groaning, she held the weapon aloft. “Fuck me, this is heavy.”

Eda threw her arms around Becky and held on tight. To her surprise, Becky’s skin felt cold already.

“I’m sorry,” Eda whispered into her ear. “I’m so sorry.”

“Find the road,” Becky said. She patted Eda’s back three times, like a mother to a child.

Eda got back to her feet, leaving Becky stranded in the mud. Becky looked up and smiled. She rubbed Frankie Boy’s head as he came over for a visit.

“Get out of here,” she said. “Both of you.”

Eda stood there, all out of words and empty comfort. With a curt nod, she turned around and ignoring the voice of her conscience, set off through the swamp, pumping her arms and legs with violence.

Everything shut down – it was what she had to do. She had to become an unfeeling monster.

Eda’s exit built up to a tremendous speed. She ignored the obstacles – the long limbed trees, the sharp branches and the black glue-like surface that tried to slow her down.

She had to get out.

Frankie Boy ran at her side all the way. Thank God, he didn’t bark as they accelerated through Great Piece Meadows.

11

Frankie Boy charged ahead of Eda. He stayed well clear of the marked trees like he had first time around but now he was telling her to do the same. But although she avoided the booby traps, there was no skipping over the fact that Eda was lost. She was so lost that she might as well have been wearing a blindfold.

After losing track of how long she’d been running for, Eda slowed down to a stop. The Meadows’ consistent landscape – the trees, grass and mud – surrounded her on all sides. No matter how far she ran, it felt like the scenery would never end. There was no way she could ever outrun it.

“Where the hell are we?” she said, doubling over and trying to catch her breath. She’d pushed her body too hard trying to get away from Becky. Her heart was pounding. Her lungs burning up.

Frankie Boy trotted forward. He caught a whiff of something in the air and disappeared through a wall of greenery.

“You’re leaving me again?” Eda said, watching him go. She straightened up, still breathing heavy. “This isn’t a good time Frankie Boy.”

Eda wiped a trickle of sweat off her brow. She was alone.

An almighty roaring noise in the distance made her jump. It came from somewhere else in the Meadows – somewhere far enough away that Eda didn’t have to worry too much. She spun around and her eyes fell upon a barrage of maple trees about a hundred feet back. Eda looked over that way, listening closely. She heard loud voices – male and female. The pounding of feet on the ground, shaking the world. It sounded like a horde of barbarians running rampant through the swamp.

Then she heard it – the familiar clash of steel on steel.

Before she knew it, Eda was creeping towards the noise. Going back in the direction she’d just come from. Somewhere in her head a voice screamed in protest. This was her chance to get away.

But Eda ignored the voice. She had to see it.

After a five-minute walk, she crouched behind a row of birches. Very carefully, Eda peered through the foliage, down a steep slope that tumbled to a massive clearing. A skirmish was taking place. The Children and the warriors, having already collided at the crater and on the Passaic, were now squaring off for a third time in the heart of the swamp.

Eda watched with fascination.

Despite the overcrowded canoes coming out of Fairfield, it looked like everyone had made it back to the Meadows. The Children outnumbered the warriors by about three to one on the battlefield. It should have been a massacre but the warriors, while fewer in number, had a lethal combination of skill and savagery on their side. Their stamina was solid too and Eda knew they would fight all day if they had to. Literally.

The women stood their ground as a swarm of camouflaged figures encircled them.

The Children charged in recklessly. Eda’s head rang with the sound of clanging steel and battle cries as another wave of fighting commenced. From her vantage point uphill, it didn’t look like anyone was winning the second skirmish. There was a blur of close quarter fighting and it didn’t paint a clear picture of how things were going. The Children were nothing more than a blunt instrument, crude and inelegant in their assault. They took some losses as they closed the distance. But they were getting through. They were a stubborn mob, clearly intent on revenge for the ambush at the crater. And if their strategy was to overwhelm the warriors with sheer volume there was every chance of success, albeit at a great cost to their numbers.

Eda felt an outburst of relief. Her enemies were killing each other and it was beautiful to watch. Their screams and dying shouts were poetry in her ears. In order to get what they wanted, both the Children and the warriors had to get past one another.

That was proving too much for either side.

Eda retreated backwards, scolding herself for wasting time when she should have been running. But now she could at least run with the knowledge that her pursuers wouldn’t be coming after her anytime soon.

She looked around for Frankie Boy. No sign of him anywhere.

“Damn it,” she said.

Eda heard a noise to her left. Her first thought was that Frankie Boy had come back to her and she turned to greet him with a smile. She would tell him about the battle – tell him that they had a chance of getting out.

It was Lex.

The chief warrior stood tall like a bloodstained mirage. She was fifteen feet away and without saying anything, she began to close that distance. Twelve feet, ten feet. And then she stopped. She wore a black vest top and matching pants. Her white skin shone with a thin layer of perspiration.

“Going somewhere?” Lex said.

Eda’s body shook. She didn’t know if it was shaking inside or out. Probably both.

Slowly, she glanced downhill towards the battle.

“Shouldn’t you be down there?” she said. “Fighting alongside your soldiers?”

Lex stole a brief glance at the battlefield. There was no emotion on her face.

“I came here for you,” she said, turning back to Eda. “Only you.”

“But they’re losing,” Eda said, nodding towards the clearing. “They’re outnumbered. Without you they’ll…”

Lex shook her head.

“They’re doing their job,” she said. “They’re loyal soldiers and they do what I tell them to do. Today I told them to get those freaks out of the way so that I can look for you undisturbed. Don’t worry about them Eda. Bringing you home is all that matters. Dead or alive? That’s up to you.”

Eda gasped for air. She took a step backwards.

“Why?” she said, outraged as well as fearful. “Why the hell are you chasing me all over this swamp Lex? Shay let me go. Remember? I’m an ambassador for the Complex and you’re running after me like all that means nothing. Like we didn’t make a deal.”

Lex’s lips curled into a smile.

“Did you really think I was okay with that?” she said. “Don’t you know me Eda?”

“Shay let me go!” Eda snapped. “That has to mean something, even to you. I’m an ambassador for God’s sake.”

Lex pointed to Eda’s damp, mud-soaked suit. The soggy garment clung to Eda’s body like glue.

“You don’t look much like an ambassador to me,” she said.

The battle cries in the background grew louder. A woman screamed and it was like a pair of claws scraping down the inside of Eda’s skull.

“They need you down there,” Eda said. “They’re going to die.”

“Where’s your dog?” Lex said.

Eda shrugged while her eyes darted back and forth across the rugged landscape. Thank God, Frankie Boy was nowhere to be seen. Whatever he was chasing, Eda hoped that it had taken him far away. Lex was ready this time. Damn it, she wanted to fight the dog again. Crazy bitch. Her body was covered from head to toe in the blood of slaughtered Children. It still wasn’t enough for her.

“Leave the dog out of this,” Eda said. “You never answered my question. Why are you doing this?”

Lex smiled and stretched up to her full height, well over six feet tall. Her bones snapped like whips cracking. Overhead, a solitary beam of sunlight crept through the gray sky, enhancing the murderous gleam in the chief warrior’s eyes.

“Who do you think has the power in the Complex?” she said. “Who controls the warriors?”

Eda shook her head. “You’re not as smart as Shay.”

“Maybe not,” Lex said. “But smart’s not the same thing as power. Is it?”

“What are you talking about?” Eda asked. “Why can’t you just answer the question for God’s sake? Tell me why you came after me?”

Lex took a step forward.

“Once your little farewell ceremony was over,” she said, “I had some quiet time with Shay back in the Waldorf. I informed her that it couldn’t end like that. You humiliated me Eda and every time people look at my face I can see it in their eyes. They know. Sometimes I even see pity in their eyes. No, no, no. Only your death can make this right – you and the dog.”

“Shay let you come after me?” Eda said. “After an ambassador? I doubt that very much.”

“Yeah,” Lex said. “Shay wasn’t happy but guess what? I pulled rank and she knows she can’t afford to lose the warriors. Like you said, she’s smart. Not long after that, we hit the road and we were right behind you Eda. We followed you all the way to this godforsaken swamp. We waited too long, should have hit you before you disappeared in here. What the hell were you thinking about walking into this place?”

“I knew someone was following me,” Eda said. “Right from the start, I knew.”

“Yep.”

Eda’s fingers curled around the hilt of the short sword. The grip was unwelcoming and she knew in no uncertain terms that she couldn’t beat Lex. Taking out the old man with an unfamiliar weapon was one thing. Lex was another thing entirely.

But what choice did she have?

“It doesn’t have to be that way,” Lex said, pointing at Eda’s hand on the hilt. “Although I admire your spirit.”

“What do you mean?” Eda said.

“I want to take you back to New York alive,” Lex said. “And in return for coming back, I’m willing to give you a swift, albeit public execution.”

Eda glanced towards the clearing. The fighting raged on, as fierce as ever.

“You want the warriors to see me die,” she said. “Right? You need them to see it. Is that the B-team down there today? Is the A-team waiting in New York for you to bring me back? For the big revenge ceremony?”

Lex wagged a finger back and forth.

“You should be more grateful,” she said. “I saved your life back there at the crater. That would have been a horrible way to go.”

“You saved my life so you can kill me.”

“I can give you so much better.”

“The East River?” Eda asked. “Is that where you’re going to put me?”

“You always were a smart girl,” Lex said, grinning. “Sure. That’s where you’ll go when it’s over.”

Lex took another look around, as if expecting someone else to turn up.

“But before any of that,” she said. “I really want to find that dog of yours. I want you to see what I’m going to do to it.”

Eda pointed the tip of her short sword at Lex. Her arms trembled under the weight of the weapon.

“This conversation’s over.”

Lex looked at the weapon with robotic contempt. “You want to fight me?” she asked. She opened her arms out wide. It was an invitation to violence.

Eda didn’t say anything. She took another subtle step back, opening up a little space in between them.

“Well why not?” Lex said, bouncing on her feet like a boxer. There was a cold, half-smile on her lips. “I think it’s fair to say I’m not at my best right now. I’m cut. I’m still beat up from New York. You’re a good fighter Eda, much better than I thought. There’s fresh blood on that sword of yours, I can smell it. Who knows? Maybe you’ll finish me off this time.”

A bird squawked overhead and it sounded like mad laughter.

“No,” Eda said in a quiet voice. “I don’t want to fight…”

She glanced upwards at the warrior. Slowly, her eyes moved beyond Lex; it was a subtle maneuver but Eda did it in a way that Lex couldn’t fail to miss.

She stared over Lex’s shoulders, looking at nothing but swamp. In her mind however, she saw Frankie Boy creeping up on all fours. He was coming to the rescue yet again.

Eda smiled, imagining it so vividly that it had to show up on her face.

Lex’s body stiffened. Eda knew what she had to be thinking in that moment. That Eda was trying to play her, that Frankie Boy was at that moment, just inches away. And for all the warrior’s bravado, she had to be at least a little bit afraid. She should have been terrified of Frankie Boy after what he’d done to her in New York. It couldn’t just be the wounds on Lex’s face and hands that were still fresh – the dog had almost killed her.

Eda looked at Lex. Then over her shoulder again, towards the imaginary beast coming up from behind.

Lex spun around and drew the katana from her scabbard. “C’mon you fucking dog,” she yelled. Ready for war, all she got was empty space.

Eda charged past while Lex’s back was turned.

“Bitch!” she heard Lex call after her.

Eda didn’t look back. She raced over the mud and grass, trying her best to make sure that she didn’t take one wrong step. If she slipped now it was over. But she had to throw caution to the wind, abandoning everything else for the sake of speed.

Lex tore after her. It sounded like an angry winged goddess on her tail. Supernatural speed. Feet like thunder plowing through the dirt.

“Get back here! I’ll kill you.”

The threats were getting closer.

Eda knew she couldn’t outrun Lex. After everything that happened, her body screamed for mercy. The engine was exhausted and slowing against her will.

Thrown into a state of intense, trance-like focus, Eda rediscovered the markings on the trees. Circles. Then triangles. They went past in a blur. She wondered if the warriors had made the connection yet. Had they triggered one of the traps?

Had they lost someone like Eda had?

She groaned, in between gasping for breath. It was her only chance of giving Lex the slip. It was also very likely a suicide mission. In order to lead Lex through the booby-trapped trees, Eda knew the price she’d have to pay. She’d have to lead the way.

Victory and failure, it was in the lap of gods. Eda would either end up like Becky or she’d sentence Lex to the same grisly fate. But what if it was Eda’s leg caught in the steel trap? What would Lex do to her if she couldn’t open the trap? Would she hack off the limb and drag Eda, bleeding and deformed, out of the swamp and back east to New York to face a public revenge?

Lex was gaining on Eda. She had to be close enough now that she’d follow Eda through the marked trees. Not close enough however, that she could reach out and grab Eda before triggering the trap.

Eda saw the shapes carved onto the two trunks. Triangles.

This was it.

She gritted her teeth and with a final burst of acceleration, charged through the hunting trail. Eda hurdled over a little mound of earth piled up in the center of the pathway. She landed with a jarring thud but stayed upright.

She was through.

Lex’s feet crashed over the soft ground behind her. She was so close that Eda thought the warrior had already escaped the trap. Any second now, Lex’s hot breath would touch Eda on the back of the neck. Then the hand would reach out and…

There was a thick snapping sound. It wasn’t the ordinary sound of twigs snapping underfoot in the Meadows.

Lex roared in horror.

Eda turned around. At the same time her feet kept moving, survival instinct pulling her backwards. She caught sight of a thick branch to Lex’s left. This branch hauled up a large net of rope concealed under the swamp floor, smothered in leaves, dirt and fine sticks. The net ascended quickly, wrapping itself around Lex and lifting her about ten feet above the ground.

The katana fell out of her hands on the way up.

“NO!”

Lex hung in midair, peering through the bars of her rope cage. With all her strength, Lex tore at the net but it was too sturdy to give way. She didn’t stop there – she thrust an arm through the net, clawing at Eda from above. A deep growling noise spilled out of the woman, perhaps involuntarily. It sounded like a wild bear caught in the trap.

“Eda. Get me out of this and we’ll talk, I swear.”

Her fingers wrapped themselves around the rope and she tried once again to tear it apart like it was paper.

Eda walked tentatively closer.

She bent down and picked up Lex’s sword and looked at it. It was much lighter than the short sword. It would make a fine weapon.

“Leave it!” Lex snarled, extending her arm through the net, crooked fingers yearning for the blade. “Don’t you touch that. Don’t you dare take my sword!”

Eda stared at the wriggling figure caught in the rope net. Despite feeling dizzy and sick to the stomach, she allowed herself a smile.

“You should have stayed in New York,” she said.

12

Eda left Lex hanging in the trap without a second thought.

Still carrying both swords, she ran about a hundred meters in a direction she hoped was north. Lex’s angry insults faded into the background. When she arrived at a small clearing, Eda dropped the short sword onto the dirt. She took a long look around and when she was certain that she was alone, she fell onto her knees and buried the weapon under a mound of shallow earth.

She stood up again, a little too quickly. Dancing on wobbly legs, Eda took several deep breaths and waited until the dizziness passed. How long had she been on the move now? How much had happened? Looking at her hands, Eda saw they were black with dirt. Her clothes smelled foul. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt dry.

With a self-motivating, primal grunt, Eda set off with the katana in hand. The memory of Lex swinging in the net had at least renewed her spirits, which had been flagging after the loss of Becky. The Children and the warriors were preoccupied with each other.

She had a chance.

If only she knew where the hell she was going.

Eda’s eyes roamed the vast expanse of wetlands. As well as looking for a way out, she was still searching for Frankie Boy who’d gone missing again. But the dog, wherever he was, was in no rush to be found. He’d made himself at home in the Meadows and why not? Eda had noticed a spring in the German Shepherd’s step ever since they’d left the urban world behind. The thought occurred to her that Frankie Boy wouldn’t want to leave all this green stuff when the time came. If it came to a choice between Eda and staying in the swamp, what would he do?

A surge of loneliness swept over Eda, so powerful that it almost knocked her off her feet.

“Frankie?”

The air was damp and rotten and it had the effect of making Eda feel like she was still trapped underwater. Still drowning.

She looked over to her right and saw a flicker of movement behind the trees. A face. Then it disappeared behind the green barrier.

“Who’s there?” Eda said.

Was she imagining things again?

She stood frozen, her feet trapped in the spongy surface underneath. Eda stared towards the trees, not blinking, gripping the handle of the samurai sword with both hands.

Was it Lex? Could it be?

No. There was no way Lex could have escaped from the net so quickly. Not unless one of the other warriors had found her and released her. But that would have been a miracle in itself – surely all the warriors were dead by now.

There was a loud rustling noise.

“Come out!” Eda yelled. Her eyes jumped back and forth, trying to cover all sides. “I know you’re there. I see you.”

There was short pause. A meek voice called out from afar:

“Don’t hurt me.”

Light footsteps on the swamp floor.

A young man stepped out with his hands up. He was no more than a boy really, about sixteen or seventeen at most, dressed in tattered camouflage clothing. His scruffy red hair was soaked with sweat and his cheeks were ablaze with a hot, flustered pink.

“You won’t hurt me?” he said.

“That depends,” Eda said. “You can put your hands down.”

He lowered his hands.

“So what are you doing…?”

As Eda spoke, she heard something to her left. Rustling. The crackling of the ground as it betrayed whoever was trying to move unnoticed. At first, Eda thought it was an ambush – that the boy had others of his kind lurking in wait, waiting to pounce on her.

Eda’s knuckles turned white as she squeezed the katana hilt. Adrenaline coursed through her veins.

“Come out you bastards…”

She groaned with relief when the big German Shepherd crept out of the bushes. It looked like a wild animal slithering out of the belly of the swamp. He didn’t look at Eda. Frankie Boy was all business, stalking the boy, moving forward in a low crouch, so low that his underside brushed off the dirt. Half-lizard, half dog.

The boy whimpered at the sight of the black beast.

“No! No! No! Please. Don’t let it hurt me.”

His hands were up over his head again. Two large, frightened eyes darted back and forth between Eda and Frankie Boy.

“Call it off,” he begged.

Eda did nothing at first. Opportunity had distracted her.

Now she stepped forward, all set to play the role of the white knight, albeit one dressed in a sacrificial black suit.

“Frankie!” she said. Eda’s tone was firm. She made a loud clapping noise, once then twice.

“Frankie Boy. Stop it. Come over here.”

She had no idea if the dog would listen to her. Why should he? There was no ownership in the relationship between them. It didn’t matter how many times people referred to Frankie Boy as ‘her dog’, he was a free spirit, one that did as he pleased.

But Frankie was listening to Eda. His ears pricked up at the sound of her voice, his brown eyes mellowed and he raised himself back to a standing position. His looked back and forth between Eda and the teenage boy. Then he sat down, like a bodyguard looming in the background.

The boy exhaled with relief. With a trembling hand, he wiped the sweat off his pink face.

“Who are you?” Eda said. She pointed the tip of the katana in his direction, making sure he didn’t get too comfortable.

“Number 64,” he said.

“You don’t have a proper name?” Eda said.

“That is my name,” he said, sounding offended. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Never mind,” Eda said.

She noticed glimmering droplets of water running down one side of his face.

“Is that…?” she asked. “Are you crying?”

Number 64 wiped the back of his hand over his face. Violently. Sweat and tears intermingled, beyond his control. As he rubbed his face dry, a sudden explosion of birdsong erupted above their heads.

“My dad’s dead,” he said.

“What?”

“My dad is dead.”

Eda jerked a lazy thumb over her shoulder.

“Back there?” she asked. “In the fighting?”

Number 64 nodded. “Most of them are dead or dying,” he said. “It was a massacre back there. There were no winners.”

“How’d you get away?” Eda said.

“I ran,” the boy said. He looked irritated by the question and shifted restlessly on his feet. “I’m a coward, okay? I ran away before any of those women could butcher me like they did my dad.”

Eda lowered the sword, very slowly. “Sounds like the smart move to me,” she said. “That’s what I would have done.”

Number 64 stared at her. There was a long silence, like was waiting for the punch line.

“You mean it?”

“Sure,” Eda said. “It’s kind of stupid dying when you don’t have to. Right?”

Number 64 brushed a clump of sweaty hair off his forehead. In turn, he wiped the damp hand off his camouflage pants.

“Yeah.”

“Where are you going now?” Eda asked.

The boy hesitated. “I don’t want to be here anymore,” he said, lowering his voice. “All of this, living in the Meadows and hiding away from the world – I’m done with it. I’m finished with Uncle Sam and with Baldilocks.”

“You’re done with Uncle Sam?” Eda said. “Is that what you mean? He won’t be too pleased about that, will he?”

“My father worshipped Uncle Sam,” Number 64 said. “I don’t. Where was Uncle Sam today when my old man needed him? Huh? Where was Baldilocks for that matter? To hell with it. I just want to get out of here and start afresh. Uncle Sam won’t miss me.”

Eda pointed the sword north.

“Are you going to the Two Bridges Road?” she asked.

Number 64 nodded. “Yeah. Of course, where else?”

Eda’s heart was racing. As long as she could trust the boy, this was the way out of Great Piece Meadows that she’d been looking for. This was it. She’d earned a break for God’s sake, and here it was.

So why did she feel lousy?

Her thoughts were never far from Becky. That tortured face, the one that would never see the Boston skyline, was a constant companion. Eda knew that she’d have to live with it for the rest of her life. Awake and in dreams. And not just the face, but the knowledge that she’d left Becky to die in that terrible situation. That was a shadow that would follow her through darkness. And it was something she could never fix.

“The other woman,” Eda said, staring hard at Number 64, “the one I ran with.”

“Bank Manager,” Number 64 said.

“Her name was Becky,” Eda snapped. “Don’t call her Bank Manager.

“Sorry.”

“Did you see her back there?”

Number 64 nodded. “I saw her.”

An icy chill ran down Eda’s spine. “And?”

“The warriors got there first,” he said. His matter of fact tone disgusted Eda. “Man, they did some terrible…”

Eda held up a hand. But it was the fierceness of her eyes that told the boy to shut up.

Fortunately he took the hint.

“It’s not right,” Number 64 said, looking at his feet. “What goes on in here. I’ve always known it. A lot of people know it I think but after the war, everyone is so scared of what’s out there that they just take it. Not me, not anymore. I’m leaving.”

“Why don’t the others leave?” Eda said. “If they know it’s wrong.”

Number 64 shrugged lazily. “Baldilocks always says the same thing – this year might be the last year. It’s nearly over and yet it never is. In the meantime, people are safe.”

Eda was only half-listening to the boy.

“I’ll show you how to get to the road,” Number 64 said. “That’s what you want right? As long as you let me go I’ll take you wherever you want. What do you say?”

Number 64 glanced at Frankie Boy, his eyes expanding with terror. “Well?”

But Eda couldn’t answer.

“We’d better get moving,” Number 64 said, looking towards the murky sky. “Daylight’s wasted, you know. We’ve still got a lot of ground to cover and it gets dark real quick in here.”

“Wait a minute,” Eda said, shaking her head.

“What for?” Number 64 said, sounding impatient. “Do you want to get out of here or not?”

Eda couldn’t believe what she was thinking.

“Where is he?” she said. “Where’s Baldilocks right now?”

“He’s back at the crater,” Number 64 said. He was edging backwards, eager to get moving. “He’s waiting for the Children to bring you and the Bank Manager back so he can finish the ceremony. There’s no way he’ll leave until Uncle Sam gets what he wants.”

“All those Children he sent to bring me back are dead,” Eda said. “Except you. Right?”

“Yeah,” Number 64 said in a quiet voice. “So?”

“Your dad’s dead,” Eda said. “And all Baldilocks cares about is the ceremony. What’s that about huh?”

The boy looked like a ghost – like he was about to throw up.

“How many people are with him at the crater?” Eda said. “How many of those fuckers are still alive?”

“About twenty,” Number 64 said. “Or thirty maybe, I’ve lost track. We’re almost wiped out you know, wiped out in a single day. It’s unbelievable. We’re done.”

“They’re not done until he is,” Eda said, speaking through clenched teeth.

The boy took a step backwards, like she’d verbally shoved him.

“You want to kill Baldilocks?”

Eda heard the words spoken out loud. Kill Baldilocks. The same thing she’d been thinking moments earlier. When Number 64 said it, it sounded so real.

“He’s been using you all this time,” Eda said. “Listen to me – I know someone just like him back in New York. She uses people for selfish reasons too. People like her and Baldilocks, they’re taking advantage of people’s fears, twisting them so tight that people lose sight of the truth. I couldn’t do much about it in New York, but maybe I can do something this time around. With your help.”

Number 64 looked at Eda with child-like fascination, as if she was someone from another planet.

“You know these hunting grounds,” Eda said, gesturing to their wild surroundings with the sword. “You know them like the back of your hand, right?”

The boy looked warily at Frankie Boy. The dog was sitting nearby, blocking off the nearest exit.

“Can you get me back there without being seen?” Eda said.

“Back where?” Number 64 said.

“To the crater. To Baldilocks.”

“Oh c’mon,” Number 64 said. His pink cheeks were sizzling hot. “You don’t really want to go all the way back to Fairfield do you? Are you crazy? Think about what you’re saying lady. We’re almost out of here. We’re not that far from the Two Bridges Road. That’s where I’m going.”

“Not until you’ve helped me do what I have to do.”

Number 64 stared at the sword in Eda’s hand. “Help you kill him?”

“Don’t overthink it,” Eda said. “Just listen. I’m your prisoner and you’re taking me back to the crater to finish the ceremony. If you play by that script, we’re good. But if you pull any tricks I’ll tell Frankie Boy to rip your throat out. And you know just by the way he’s looking at you that he wants to do it, don’t you? His appetite is legendary. All I need to do is give the word.”

Number 64 clasped his hands together.

“Don’t do this,” he said. “Going back there, it’s suicide. If we run now we’ll be out of here by…”

“C’mon,” Eda said, shouting over his desperate pleas. She turned around and faced the direction she’d been running away from. “Let’s get moving.”

“I can’t do this,” Number 64 said.

But Eda couldn’t see him. He was a weak voice from behind, begging for reason.

“You can,” Eda said, waiting for the boy to catch up and start leading the way back to camp. “And you will. Won’t he Frankie Boy?”

13

The boy stuck to his word.

Perhaps he was scared about what Frankie Boy would do to him if he misbehaved. Or maybe, and Eda thought this the more likely scenario, he was a decent kid at heart. Despite being brainwashed from birth, Number 64 seemed to possess an inherent sense of right and wrong. And just maybe, he knew a twisted mess when he saw one.

He led the way back through the swamp. They were traveling south now, moving at a steady pace. Two Bridges Road was fading into the distance behind them. But Eda let all thoughts of the road go, a new vision having replaced the one that had fueled her so far.

She marched a few paces behind Number 64, staying close but not too close. Eda was drawing on the last of her energy reserves, but she had to keep a little something behind for the crater.

“You know where you are?” she asked the boy.

“Of course,” he said.

They pushed through a vast expanse of overgrown land. Trees, grass, mud – no matter how far they went the swamp remained a colossal net of repetition. Number 64 escorted his two companions off the beaten track where there were fewer clearings. The wildness and hostility of nature was amplified here. Bigger. Fortunately however, there were no markings on the trees, which meant no traps.

They made it back to the Children’s camp in good time. As soon as they arrived, Eda hurried over to the empty cabin where her backpack was stored. She found the bag and brought it back to the communal table where she proceeded to help herself to whatever food she could find, tossing it into the backpack for later. She picked up one of the large jugs and topped up her water bottle. As far as supplies went it wasn’t much but it was enough to get started. Enough to get far away from Great Piece Meadows.

As Eda took care of practical concerns, Number 64 was kneeling beside the dead boy. Wiping a tear off his cheek, Number 64 reached out and closed the boy’s eyes gently.

“Ready?” Eda said, walking over. She was aware of her insensitivity, but there was no time for grief, at least not now.

Number 64 slowly rose to his feet. The weight of the world sat on his shoulders.

He looked at Eda and nodded. His eyes then drifted over to one of the little wooden cabins. There was a pale, haunted expression on his face. Eda turned to see what he was looking at and she saw his number hanging off the door. There was another number there too. Number 14.

“We’d better get going,” Eda said in a quiet voice.

“Yeah,” Number 64 said. “And I don’t ever want to come back here.”

He led her to the riverbank where only two canoes remained upturned on the grass. The others were gone, probably drifting downriver. It didn’t matter – they only needed one to carry them back to Fairfield.

Number 64 pushed one of the boats into the water. He grabbed a paddle and jumped in, as did Eda and Frankie Boy. Eda sat on the wooden bench, trying to ignore the doubts settling into her mind. What the hell was she thinking? What if Number 64 tried to tip her into the water? Did he know she couldn’t swim? She glanced over at him. There was no contempt in his eyes. He didn’t look fearful or bitter that Eda was forcing him to do something against his will. If anything he looked empty. Like a machine, simply obeying orders. And if he was plotting something, he was keeping it well hidden.

The canoe traveled down the Passaic River. East towards Fairfield.

Eda hoped this was her last time on the water. The near-drowning incident was fresh in her mind and she could still taste the rotten Passaic on her lips.

The voyage to the crater was somber. Only the squawking birds that flew over the boat made any noise. On occasion, Eda closed her eyes and drifted off a little, not quite sleeping but landing somewhere in between that and wakefulness. In this trance-like state she saw Becky’s mangled limb caught in the steel trap. She saw the blood. She heard Becky groaning as Eda pulled on the broken lever over and over again. And yet no matter how hard she tried, it wouldn’t release the trap.

Eda opened her eyes and saw only the river. Felt the boat skimming gently across the surface. She’d left her there for God’s sake. Frightened and alone. How could she have done that? Why hadn’t Eda at least offered to…finish it? At the very least she could have spared Becky further pain and…

No.

She couldn’t. And thank God, Becky had never asked it of her either.

When the boat reached Fairfield, Eda disembarked quickly. With sword in hand, she strode forward with a renewed sense of purpose. There were no doubts about turning back from the Two Bridges Road anymore. She was supposed to be here. Righting wrongs, hoping it would fill the hole inside.

Number 64 struggled to keep up with Eda’s rapid pace. Together they hurried through the wall of trees that led towards the winding road.

As they got closer to the road, Eda heard Number 64 lagging behind. She stopped and turned around to check on him. There it was – the conflict brewing in his blue eyes. Now that he was closer to the sacred site, it was like he realized what was going on. What was really going on. The inner voice of his former self had to be causing resistance. Here he was, helping this woman, this stranger, to kill his false god.

“Are you okay?” Eda asked.

Number 64 licked his lips and winced, like he’d tasted something bitter. He nodded slowly.

“Are you really going to…?”

“I’m going to do the right thing,” Eda said, moving closer to him. Frankie Boy stood in between, watching this quiet interaction with interest. “But I need you to help me. Okay? If this is going to work, if we’re going to stop all these people dying then we’re going to have to trust each other. Think you can do that?”

Number 64 swallowed. “I think so.”

“Don’t lie to me,” Eda said. She reached out and her fingers wrapped around his skinny, pale wrist like a set of handcuffs. “Do you really want to get out of here?”

“Yes,” he said.

“Getting out,” Eda said, “really getting out means taking care of Baldilocks once and for all. This is his doing – all of this is his doing.”

He nodded.

Eda took a step back. She flipped the katana around, offering the elegantly wrapped hilt to Number 64.

“Take it,” she said. “I’m your prisoner. You’re going to walk me down there to him and you’re going to have the blade pointing at my neck. Alright?”

Number 64’s pink face looked like it had been freshly slapped.

“What?” he said. “I mean, yeah okay.”

“Listen out for my signal,” Eda said. “You’ll know it when it comes and when you hear it, release me. I’ll take care of the rest, I promise.”

She lowered her voice.

“No tricks,” Eda said. “Frankie Boy’s coming down there with us. As far as the rest of the Children are concerned, the dog isn’t loyal to anyone. But we know different, right?”

“Right.”

“I trust you Number 64,” Eda said, “but if you betray that trust, if you try to hand me over to them for real, I’ll give the word and Frankie Boy will rip your face off. And when that’s done, I’ll dress you up in this suit and throw you down to Uncle Sam. You can be President of the United States today.”

“No tricks,” Number 64 said, taking the sword. “But what if it doesn’t work? Baldilocks is a lot of things but he isn’t stupid you know.”

“Then we’re both dead,” Eda said. “Alright?”

“Oh Jesus.” Number 64 wiped the sweat off his forehead. Eda thought it was a miracle the kid had any fluid left to perspire. If he kept going like that, he’d shrivel up and turn into a pink raisin.

“C’mon let’s go,” Eda said.

They approached the winding road with the metal barriers. Peering towards the crater in the distance, Eda saw what was left of the Children. Thirty people at most, maybe less.

Baldilocks, with the Uncle Sam mask pulled up over his head, was deep in conversation with Number 10. They stood apart from the others, about twenty feet from the crater rim. Number 10, like the rest of the Children, was still dressed in a long gray robe. She held the dog skull mask in her hands, jostling it anxiously back and forth. Some of the others, like Baldilocks, had their mask sitting atop their heads. It looked very much like a half-time interval and that these people were waiting for the second part of the show to begin.

They had no idea most of their people were dead. Baldilocks had been too confident in the ability of the Children he’d sent after the warriors. He’d been too confident in numerical superiority. As a result, he’d left the coast clear for the one person in Great Piece Meadows who wanted him dead to return.

Number 64 was blowing hard.

“It’s okay,” Eda said. “Breathe slowly, in and out.” She pointed to the sword in his hand and then gently pulled the tip of the blade towards her throat.

“Stand up,” she whispered. “We’re doing this.”

They straightened up slowly together, like to hurry was a sin. With Frankie Boy at their side, Eda and Number 64 began to walk towards the crater.

“Make it convincing,” Eda whispered.

Number 64 didn’t say a word.

The Children saw them when they reached the top of the hill. From afar, Eda heard a cluster of excited voices. These individual fragments came together to form a loud murmur of approval that drifted high above Uncle Sam’s crater.

“They’re going to love you for this,” Eda said.

Most of the Children rushed forward to greet the boy and his prisoner. Eda walked downhill into a pack of eager, rejoicing faces. Praise was heaped upon Number 64. They would treat him like a hero, Eda knew that. She only hoped the acclaim wouldn’t go to his head.

Number 64 kept the blade tight against Eda’s throat. Eda tilted her head back as far as she could, knowing that Lex kept her katana razor sharp at all times. It didn’t help that the boy’s hands were shaking.

“I’ve got her,” Number 64 said, as the crowd gathered around him. “I’ve got the President of the United States.”

Eda’s heart was pounding. She didn’t know if the newfound confidence in Number 64’s voice was sincere or not. Had he been playing her for a fool all this time, pretending to be a nervous kid?

Sweat trickled down her brow.

“Where’s the other one?” Baldilocks said, marching through the crowd. He glanced at Eda for a second and then his eyes lingered on the road, as if he was expecting more to come. “Where’s the Bank Manager?”

“She’s dead,” Number 64 said, leading Eda over to Baldilocks. “They ran onto the hunting grounds and the Bank Manager got caught in one of our circle traps. By the time we found her it was too late.”

Baldilocks cursed quietly. Then his attention fell upon Eda and he scowled, as if Becky’s death had been her fault.

“Uncle Sam won’t be happy about that,” he said. “He won’t be happy at all and here we were today, hoping yet again that this was going to the last sacrifice. Not likely. And what about those fierce bitches? Have they been taken care of?”

Number 64 grimaced, his youthful face aging by ten years.

“There was a battle,” he said. “We caught up with them on the hunting grounds and…I’ve never seen anything like it. They’re dead, all of them, but we took heavy losses on the way. Most are dead, if not dying.”

Number 64 looked at Baldilocks. Eda caught the fire in his eyes, even if no one else did.

“My dad’s dead. They’re all dead. This right here – all of us – is all that’s left of the Children.”

There were a few gasps from within the crowd. A barrage of frantic voices whispered back and forth, enquiring after the numbers they knew who were absent.

Baldilocks stood silent while the crowd panicked. But Eda saw the restrained horror spilling down the edges of the man. All the color had drained out of him upon hearing news of his people. She also noticed how he couldn’t look at Number 64. Not since the boy told him about his dad.

And yet he didn’t let the emotion spill out. His face remained cold, like a block of stone.

He pointed towards Eda.

“Bring her over here,” he said. “And keep that dog back.”

“The dog’s with me now,” Number 64 said.

Baldilocks didn’t dispute the matter. After what had happened to Number 64’s dad, he wasn’t in a position to deny the boy anything.

“Uncle Sam is waiting for you,” Baldilocks said, glaring at Eda.

He turned around and led them back towards the crater’s lip. The other Children followed in a daze, still reeling in shock about the fate of their friends and family.

“We must finish it,” Baldilocks said. “Uncle Sam will make it right, but only if we finish this. We must apologize and offer the President to him immediately. Quickly, quickly…c’mon!”

Number 64 walked behind Baldilocks, the sword jabbing at Eda’s throat. They stopped at the edge and Eda realized she was back where she’d started that day with Becky, Mike and Murphy. It was hard to believe she was the only one left.

The small crowd formed a line about twenty feet back. At Baldilocks’ command, they pulled the dog masks over their faces again. When it was done, Eda could still hear some of them muttering frantically to one another about what had happened. The doubt was tangible; it spilled out of the crowd like steam from boiling water.

“Bring her to the edge,” Baldilocks said to Number 64. “Closer, c’mon!”

The last Sinner, aka The President of the United States, stood as far as it was possible to go without falling over the edge. As there was no rope left to bind her wrists, Baldilocks commanded Number 64 to keep a tight hold of her.

One of the boy’s arms was locked tight around Eda’s waist. The other held the sword at her throat.

“How unfortunate,” Baldilocks said, addressing the spectators, “that we’ve been forced to keep Uncle Sam waiting today. Perhaps the tragic loss of our brothers and sisters, something that we will have time to mourn properly later, is a fitting punishment. We got complacent. Lazy. All of us. Just like people did before the war. I’m afraid to say it my friends, but with everything that’s happened, I doubt very much that this year will be the last. Such a pity. Such a tragedy that we have to send the Seekers out again. We can only hope that the Great One won’t ask for any more than four souls next year.”

Baldilocks turned to face Eda. He lowered the Uncle Sam mask over his face and held a wrinkled hand out.

“Where’s the dagger?” he asked. “The one you stole from our late friend, Number 47. Where is it girl?”

Because of the sword at her throat, Eda’s head was tilted at a tight angle. Blood poured to one side of her skull. She had to resist the sensation of the world spinning and hold it together for a little longer.

“I must have dropped it when I ran off,” she said.

Baldilocks clicked his fingers and one of the dog masks stepped out of the crowd. They came over and handed Baldilocks a short sword.

“This will have to do,” Baldilocks said. The weapon was spotless, like it had never been used before.

Eda stared at Baldilocks, not daring to blink. She took slow, deep breaths to keep control of her temper. It wouldn’t help anyone if she blew her top too early.

Baldilocks adjusted the red, white and blue mask. His hands, covered in dirt, dusted down the lapels of his matching jacket.

“The Seeker who brought this Sinner to us is dead,” he called out. “Number 64, since you returned her to us, will you take this weapon from me and deliver the Sinner to Uncle Sam?”

“I will,” Number 64 said.

Eda swallowed hard.

Baldilocks walked towards her, his mad, dazzling eyes peering out from behind the eyeholes of the mask.

He offered the short sword to Number 64.

“Put that foreign blade away,” he said, gesturing towards the katana. His voice dripped with contempt. “The offering must be pure and so we use our own weapons. Besides, those women have offended the Great One by spilling the blood of the Children on this holy site. And they did it with that sword. It belongs to Uncle Sam now.”

Baldilocks came closer. His arm was fully extended as he offered the short sword, hilt first, to Number 64.

“Take it.”

Number 64 didn’t move.

With a grunt, Baldilocks stabbed the sword in Number 64’s direction, hurrying the boy along. Eda couldn’t see the old man’s face but she imagined that his bulbous, insect eyes were frowning.

“Take it for God’s sake,” he said. His voice was muffled. The tension in the air however, that was as clear as crystal.

“Are you going to keep Uncle Sam waiting?” Baldilocks said. His nasal voice cracked with emotion.

Eda inhaled slowly, picking up the toxic fumes off her suit. She still smelled of the ungodly river but that was the least of her worries.

“What’s wrong with you boy? TAKE the sword!”

A burst of energy shot up and down Eda’s body. It was a primitive response, a signal deep inside, readying her for action.

“Now,” she cried out.

To Eda’s relief, the sharp blade was pulled away from her neck. She heard Number 64 stagger backwards, as well as a chorus of loud gasping noises from the crowd.

“What…?” Baldilocks yelled. The mask stared at her, frozen in a devilish grin.

Eda charged towards Baldilocks and when she closed the distance, she threw a murderous right hand at his jaw. The blow connected flush and Eda’s hand exploded with a sharp pain. There was a muffled grunt as Baldilocks reeled backwards under the force of the shot. Eda hit him again, this time in the ribs. The sword fell out of Baldilocks’ hand as he doubled over in pain. One more punch to the face and he dropped onto his backside.

“Monster!” Eda yelled.

She reached into the inside pocket of her suit and pulled out the sacrificial dagger. It felt like it was made of paper after carrying the short sword for so long. Eda rushed over and yanked Baldilocks up to his feet. There was no weight to the man as she took a hold of his shoulders, trying to keep him upright as he staggered on jelly legs.

Some of the Children came forward, their swords drawn. Confusion on their faces.

Eda thrust the edge of the dagger against Baldilocks’ throat. Then she backed away towards the crater. The advancing Children stopped in unison.

Number 10 pulled off her dog mask and stepped ahead of the crowd. Her jaw dropped in disbelief. It looked like she was saying something but Eda couldn’t make out the words.

Since lowering the sword, Number 64 meanwhile, had put considerable distance between himself and the crater’s edge. He’d already dropped the katana and now he stood alone on the outskirts, watching events unfold with a fearful expression. His face screamed, what have I done?

“One more death,” Eda called out to the Children. She pressed the dagger tighter against Baldilocks’ neck, not caring if she’d torn the skin or not already. “Uncle Sam needs one more death.”

“Help me!” Baldilocks roared. He eyeballed the crowd through his mask.

“Shut up,” Eda said. “Listen to me everyone. Uncle Sam is real, I know that now. But here’s something you don’t know – he doesn’t just speak to Baldilocks. I heard his voice today. I heard it in this godforsaken swamp. Why else would I come back here if not for divine intervention? Huh? Want to know what he said to me? He said a name – one name. He told me who had to die to atone for what happened today. It’s the person who’s responsible for all this – Frank Church. And what Uncle Sam wants, Uncle Sam gets. Isn’t that right Frank?”

She shook Baldilocks like he was a ragdoll. Keeping the knife to his throat, she used her other hand to tear the Uncle Sam mask off his face. Without thinking twice, Eda tossed the mask into the hole behind her.

Baldilocks’ eyes were ablaze with terror. She could smell stale meat on his breath as he gasped for air.

“Help me!”

Eda twisted Baldilocks’ head back, forcing him to look down into the jaws of Uncle Sam. There were specks of fresh debris barely visible at the bottom – Mike and Murphy perhaps? David was down there too somewhere, alongside the bones of all the other victims over the past thirty years.

“Are you ready?” Eda said.

Baldilocks screamed. “NO!”

“Uncle Sam says yes you are.”

Eda turned to the crowd – a galley of stunned faces, some of them on the brink of insanity judging by their horrified expressions. Number 10 appeared to be the calmest of all. She was watching events unfold with an intense, thoughtful expression. Almost detached.

“Uncle Sam commands this of us,” Eda said. “That’s what he told me today. This man here failed to do what he was supposed to do. The sacrifice was a failure – the Bank Manager was taken by others. The President got away. And here’s the worst thing – Uncle Sam told me he warned Baldilocks about the ambush weeks ago but your great leader here didn’t believe that anyone would dare do such a thing in the Meadows. You hear that? He was too arrogant to protect you. That’s why your friends and family are dead today.”

Eda dug her boots into the ground, spreading her legs out to retain balance. The smallest misstep and she was a goner.

“The Great One is angry,” Eda said. “He’s so fucking angry right now. Can’t you feel it? Can’t you see it all around it you?”

“Liar!” Baldilocks said. “Don’t listen to a word she says.”

“Uncle Sam!” Eda cried out, shouting as loud as she’d ever done. She no longer sounded like herself – she sounded like Baldilocks. “Uncle Sam! I have the last Sinner right here.”

“She’s a fraud!” Baldilocks said, fixing the crowd with a petrified stare. “Uncle Sam talks to me. Only me! You know it’s true – help me for God’s sake. I took you with me all those years ago – I forgave you, I saved you…”

Eda laughed – a deep, hearty rumbling noise that cut Baldilocks off in mid-speech. She looked over her shoulder. There was nothing between them and the long fall to the graveyard below.

“Frank Church!” she said. “It’s time.”

“God, no! Please no!”

“You are the President of the United States. You are the fourth Sinner. Go down into the…”

“No!”

“Why not?” Eda yelled. She pulled him so close that her lips grazed against his rubbery skin. “Why shouldn’t I throw you in?”

Baldilocks shook his head. “Uncle Sam…”

“The Great One speaks only to me now,” Eda said, running the tip of the blade over Baldilocks’ exposed jugular vein. It was so fat that it looked like the man had a piece of taut rope trapped in his throat. “Please accept our apologies for today. We, the Children, sacrifice this man and beg…”

“Stop!” Baldilocks screamed like a frightened animal.

“Why?” Eda said. Rage spilled out of her like hot lava. “Why? Why? Why?”

“Because...”

“Speak up.”

Silence.

Eda squeezed the handle of the dagger. “Fuck it,” she said. “You’re going in there you piece of shit.”

“No!”

“Why not Frank? He called your name today. Uncle Sam called your name.”

“He didn’t.”

“Why not?”

“No…”

“Why not?”

“BECAUSE HE’S NOT REAL!”

Eda had never heard anyone scream so loud. Instantly, she let the old man go and threw him down on the dirt. Baldilocks landed on his knees and without looking up, buried his face deep in his hands. “I made it up,” he said. “I made it up dammit! Are you happy now? Is that what you wanted?”

He began to sob into the back of his hands.

Eda just stood there, listening to him cry. Gradually, the weeping burned out into a faint whimper.

Eda walked over and crouched down beside Baldilocks. She looked into the crowd of Children who hadn’t moved. Their faces were eerily calm, as if the shock had passed. Nobody had moved since Baldilocks’ confession. They were all just watching from afar.

“Say that again,” Eda said, tearing the man’s hands away from his face. “Just to make sure everyone understands.”

When he didn’t speak, Eda stood up and kicked him in the ribs. Hard. Baldilocks collapsed onto the dirt again, coughing his lungs up.

“Say it again,” Eda said. “I’ll throw you into that hole anyway, but not for Uncle Sam. For Becky, Mike, Murphy and all the other people who died here because of your bullshit.”

“He’s not real,” Baldilocks croaked.

“There is no Uncle Sam?” Eda said. “He never spoke to you. Is that right?”

“Yes.”

Eda looked at the crowd again, expecting to see at least a little shock register on their faces. There were only sad, almost empty expressions. They stood there in their robes, looking back at the broken man with an impersonal fascination.

She began to wonder – had they really known all along? Eda had suspected it but she hadn’t dared to believe it was true. Had these people known from the start? Had they chosen to believe in Uncle Sam because it was easier to live with a demon under the ground than it was to live in the real world?

Number 10 turned around and whispered into the ears of several of the others. Muted exchanges took place. Heads nodded. Eda wondered if they might come over and throw Baldilocks into the hole themselves. That would have been something. But they didn’t – the surviving Children simply began to walk away from the crater.

After about a hundred yards, Number 10 stopped and turned around. She beckoned Number 64 to go with them. To Eda’s surprise, the boy ran over to them, smiling with relief at not being shut out. He walked away with the crowd, their arms locked around one another in solidarity.

Number 10 held back, staring over at Eda.

“Why don’t you come with us?” she called out. There was no emotion in her voice. “It’ll be easier out there in a large group of people.”

“Go with you?” Eda asked. “Didn’t you guys just try to kill me?”

Her words hit the mark.

“Understood,” Number 10 said.

“A lot of people died here,” Eda said. “Nothing’s ever going to change that.”

“I know.”

“So where will you go?” Eda said. “Where will you take them?”

“Far away from here,” Number 10 said.

The white-haired woman turned around and caught up with the rest of her people. Together they trudged back towards the road, exhausted and grieving. Some of them glanced over their shoulder, taking a final look at Baldilocks. Or at the giant crater. Most of them didn’t look back.

Eda turned around.

Baldilocks was sitting in the dirt. His head was still buried in his hands, although he wasn’t crying anymore. Frankie Boy was nearby watching him closely. The dog’s head tilted with curiosity when Baldilocks let out the occasional, high-pitched groan.

Eda went over and sat down beside him, a few feet apart. She placed the katana at her side, out of Baldilocks’ reach.

He rubbed his bloodshot eyes and looked at her.

“Judge me all you like,” he said, in a tired, beaten voice. “But you don’t know what it was like for me before the war. You can’t ever know. The way people treated me, Jesus. I tell you, the End War was the best thing that ever happened to me. It turned this street bum into a prophet overnight. Suddenly, I was somebody.”

“Yeah,” Eda said.

“Purpose,” Baldilocks said, nodding. “A sense of purpose, that’s all I ever sought out of this poxy life. Without it, we’re empty inside. Driftwood, going nowhere on a big cruel ocean. But in here after the war, I was complete. For the first time in my life people looked at me the way I’ve always wanted them to look at me. They thought I was a prophet. I took them out of the towns and cities and built this community because that’s what they wanted me to do. They wanted this. We lived the End War, believing what we believed.”

“But it was all a lie,” Eda said. “Thing is, I think they knew that from the start. I guess worshipping a hole in the ground and sacrificing four people a year seemed tame compared to life outside the swamp. That’s the world we live in I guess.”

Eda watched Baldilocks rocking backwards and forwards. His eyes were blank. He clenched his teeth like he was experiencing physical pain. It was as if all the ghosts he’d buried in the crater over the years were creeping out, their faces appearing between the cracks of his mind, clambering for revenge.

“Did David, I mean Number 47, tell you anything about New York?” Eda said. “About what’s going on there?”

Baldilocks shook his head. “I don’t care about New York.”

Eda looked at him. “But you said wanted purpose right?” she said. “Did you mean that?”

Baldilocks shrugged.

“You’ve still got time to make amends for this colossal fuck up,” Eda said. “For all the innocent people you threw down that hole.”

“How?”

Eda hesitated.

“There’s a community in New York that I think might interest you,” she said. “A small group of women known as the Complex. They’re trying to rebuild.”

“Rebuild?” Baldilocks said, glancing at Eda. “What does that mean?”

“They’re trying to kick start the human species in America,” Eda said. “It’s a noble cause, I guess, but they’re mostly women and they need men to help out with the fundamentals. The birds and the bees, you know?”

She looked at him.

“Purpose,” Eda said. “It’s there if you want it. If you can impregnate Helen of Troy you’ll be the father of the new world. How’s that for purpose?”

“Helen of Troy?”

“She’s the most beautiful woman in the world,” Eda said. “I’ve seen her with my own eyes. But so far, no man has been able to give her a baby. There’s supposed to be this curse you see, and that’s why the women in New York think Helen can’t get pregnant. It’s just superstition. There isn’t any curse. She just hasn’t found the right man that’s all. They need a strong, virile man to show up and fix the problem. You’ve been looking for something all your life, haven’t you Frank? Maybe, just maybe, this is it.”

Baldilocks’ eyes lit up. A few minutes earlier, he’d shriveled as his world had collapsed. Now the lights were back on and Eda felt a flicker of sympathy for the man. She hated herself for it.

“Why would you tell me this?” he said. “Why would you help me after everything that’s happened?”

“I’m not helping you,” Eda said. “Truth is, I wouldn’t piss on you if you were on fire. You can go fuck yourself for all I care Frank. But I like what those women are doing in New York and the fact is they need men to get the job done. I guess you’ll do. Everything works downstairs, doesn’t it?”

He nodded. “Where will I find them?”

“Grand Central Terminal,” Eda said. “Will you go?”

“I will,” Baldilocks said. And then he laughed, which made Eda’s blood boil.

He moved as if to get up.

“One more thing,” Eda said. “The leader of the Complex is a woman called Shay. She’s the brains of the operation. When you get there, tell her that Eda sent you. Tell her that and she’ll treat you like a king.”

Baldilocks rose to his feet, almost in slow motion. His old bones snapped. He rubbed his jaw where Eda had punched him and then he looked towards the road with anticipation, as if searching for the rest of the Children.

They’d been there a few minutes ago. They were all gone now.

“It’s a long walk to New York,” Baldilocks said with a sigh.

“Better get going then.”

“What about you Eda?” he asked. “Where will you go?”

Eda shrugged. “Maybe I’ll go back east. See what’s happening in Boston.”

Baldilocks, aka Frank Church, walked away from Uncle Sam’s crater. He set off towards the road, laboring like an old man. He turned around only once.

“Goodbye,” he called over.

Eda watched him go, excited at the thought of his fate in New York. She kept watching as he climbed up the steep incline and trudged across the road. Now that he was away from Eda, he walked differently. His step was light, like a young man.

Like a man who’d just walked out of his own execution.

The End

Dear Reader

Thanks for reading The Sinners.

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Mark Gillespie

The Future of London

L-2011 (Future of London #1)

Mr Apocalypse (Future of London #2)

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Sleeping Giants (Future of London #4)

Kojiro vs. The Vampire People (Future of London #5)

The Future of London Box Set (Books 1-3)

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Black Fever

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Black Earth

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The Complete Box Set (Books 1-3)

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Air Nosferatu

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