Chapter Thirteen
One month later...
It has been three months since I last bled. One month since I threatened to go and reclaim the city of Dallas. The men have forgotten about the idea, but I have not. As my belly begins to show a small swelling of pregnancy, I become ever more desperate that my child should have a better life than I did. It weighs on my mind night and day. It makes me nervous and even nauseous. The men put it down to hormones, but this is more than a matter of chemistry.
I know better now than to talk to the mercenaries about it. They are my lovers and my protectors, but they are not willing to risk anything for the future. All they care about is keeping me safe. It’s noble, but that is what my father tried to do, and I already know that plan does not work. We need power. We need money. And I know where a great deal of it is stored.
The plan I have is risky. So much so that it is borderline impossible, but I am hedging my bets. I am female and with child. Nobody would dare harm me in this state. I am untouchable. At least, I hope I am.
The weapons Alexios gave me have been hidden well, along with a change of the clothes I used to wear—the ones that allow me to pass for a male. I am careful about making my preparations. I sneak food away, water, matches. I make a little nest of provisions at the very corner of the camp, and when the moon is at her height, I make my move.
I make sure to leave a note on my pillow. It reads:
Be back soon.
Please don’t worry.
—T
I know it won’t stop them worrying, but it assuages my conscience somewhat, and at least they will know that I intend to return.
I take the same path I did the day I was discovered. I am careful. I keep an eye out for soldiers, looters, scavengers, bandits, in other words: men.
There is much to watch out for, not just in the direction of the city that lies ahead, but on my tail. The mercenaries will come for me. I likely have no more than a matter of hours on them, and they will overcome that lead quickly. My only advantage is that I know this land better than they do. I know the secret paths. The short cuts. I know the ways that avoid the coyote trails and the smuggling routes.
By the nightfall of the first day, I am almost certain they are on my trail. I see flashes of what looks like the shape of men out of the corner of my eye. I hear the occasional distant shout. If they catch me before I get back to Dallas, they will punish me and hold me captive. I will be trapped in the prison I was born into. I need to get to the city. I need to secure funds. I need to go back to where the tragedy unfolded, to where our life began. I need to make things right.
Perhaps I am not entirely rational. Maybe it is hormones. I don’t know. What I do know is that I am being called back to the city. Something in my gut is telling me to move. Like the animals I have watched all my life, I know when I must follow my instincts.
The mercenaries will not understand. I know I will be angering Alexios and Silver and Pharaoh. They will think of me as foolish, or perhaps even mad.
With my ears trained on the world around me, interpreting every slight sound in the dark as the approach of a predator, I light no fire and I sleep in a bush.
It is no short journey to the city, but I make it as short as possible by keeping moving, barely resting. I am driven by desire for so many things, riches, revenge, some kind of resolution. My story will not end pumping out offspring into the wasteland until I pass away from the ordeal.
I am elated when I see the walls we fled from, but that is short-lived. Sadness sinks in. The last time I was here, those who cared for me were dying. I am returning to the scene of a great tragedy, and I am going to have to keep it together as I execute my plan. It involves heading right back into the lion’s den, and taking what is ours.
To my surprise, Dallas is peaceful. There are no signs of war. I once worried that chaos would spread across the nation because of me, instead things seem to be calmer than ever. The mech soldiers who terrorized the place on the night we were attacked are nowhere to be seen.
I am not interfered with as I walk, disguised through crowds of men going about their business. The mood of the city has changed. When the sheriff was in charge, there was a darkness and an urgency. Now I feel a lightness. People laugh, banter. There are performers on every other corner, singing and dancing and telling stories.
The transformation is a source of much bewilderment to me. I have been laboring under heavy guilt that I destroyed not just the lives of several brave men, but all those who live in the city, and instead I find a place that just three months after the battle seems to be experiencing a rebirth.
The royal building is far more open than it used to be. There seems to be little concern about security, as citizens mill about amid soldiers, who keep a casual eye on things.
How quickly things can change. I hope they haven’t all changed. I hope the money is still kept in the same place it used to be. I hope the secret passage we used to get out of the royal building is still there.
It is. The grate in the dry river bed opens to my fingers, and I slip into it without being noticed. I start to smile to myself. It has been a long journey, and I have had little reason to believe in myself, but I think this is going to work. I am going to get the money we need to begin a real life as a family. We are going to have the riches to set up a proper home, with real fortifications. We are going to have the life we deserve. I learned one thing in my time in the city: with money, all things are possible.
The passage runs right to the sheriff’s quarters. The new king, whoever he is, may or may not use them. As I slip out of the hidden closet door, I keep my wits about me. This is the hard part.
The rooms seem to be empty. Whoever the new guy is, he’s not using them. I hope the stash isn’t.
Moving on tiptoes, I steal into what was once the sheriff’s horde. It used to be a well-guarded room, but there aren’t guards on it anymore. That’s not a good sign. There are still several chests there, which I suspect hold a great deal of currency. Even emptying the contents of one into my pockets could give us what we need.
I try the lid of a chest. It doesn’t budge. Locked.
I try another. Also locked.