Chapter 44

Six men and four women of various ages came to a stop about twenty feet in front of Rain and her friends. They were all armed with various weapons. Rain recognized the rifles and handguns, of course, but one of them was carrying what looked like a long spear, its metal tip not only screwed into the top, but a long cord wound around it as well. Another had what might’ve been a bow and arrow of some sort. A bent piece of plastic arched across her back, but there was no string, and the quiver held several pieces of metal that appeared to be blunt on the end. One was carrying a long black stick that looked more like the handle to a sword than anything else. Perhaps it was a baton to beat a person to death with. She didn’t want to find out what it was. She didn’t want to find out what any of the weapons were.
Two men stood in the middle of the group. The one on the left, the tallest, with long, black braided hair that surrounded his shoulders, seemed to be the leader. Around his neck hung a necklace with many different trinkets--pieces of glass, what appeared to be a tooth, a bullet casing. His eyes were narrowed, his face firm, though not unpleasant. Rain guessed he was probably in his thirties, though she couldn’t be sure. She’d never seen a man that old before. The ones in Michaelanburg didn’t live that long.
The other man had the sort of smirk on his face that let Rain know he was trouble. A jagged scar ran from the crease of his nose down to his chin. His hair was tied up on the top of his head. Smears of dirt and grime covered him, and he seemed to relish the proof that he’d been busy. All of them wore the same sort of clothing--baggy shirts and pants with belts to hold them in place. The colors most of them wore were muted, though one of the women, a younger one, maybe Rain’s age, had on a faded orange top. She was pretty, with wide eyes and a sprinkle of freckles across her nose. The other three women were much older, and they reminded Rain of Mothers with their direct stares. She swallowed hard, waiting for something to happen. If they wanted to kill them, wouldn’t they have done it by now? Unless they preferred torture.
The man who appeared to be the leader held one hand straight up in the air. Rain didn’t know what that meant, but the others looked at him with reverence. She did, too. Where else could she possibly look? When he spoke, his voice was deep and his tone was no-nonsense. Miraculously, the language was the same as they spoke in Michaelanburg, though he had an accent that made it a bit difficult to understand some of his words.
“Who are you? And what are you doing in Dafo?”
Mist didn’t waver with her response. “Greetings,” she said, bowing her head slightly. “We are refugees from Gretchintown in Michaelanburg. My friend Rain and I have helped these two men escape the Mothers. All we would like is safe passage through your territory to Oklasaw. We are on our way to the Nation of Quebec, and freedom for these men.”
The group began to whisper amongst themselves, several jaws dropping open, a few of them shaking their heads in disbelief. “Enough!” the leader declared, and with the word, the talking stopped. “You say you’ve escaped the Motherhood? How is this possible?”
“Yes,” Mist assured him. “It was quite difficult. There has been a rebellion. Hundreds of women worked together to free the men being held in one of the facilities. We split up and ran from the Mothers, but their military is hunting us. The more quickly we can pass through your lands, the better.”
“And bring the Mothers along behind you?” the man with the scar snarled, his beady eyes focused on Mist’s face as he fingered a long knife that protruded from a holster at his waist.
The leader made a jester with his arm in his companion’s direction. The shifty man closed his thin lips over a set of teeth that reminded Rain of the stains that formed around the edges of the toilet bowl in the common bathroom between cleanings. He was dangerous; she could feel the hate and impulsivity rolling off of him in waves.
“I’m afraid the Mothers may reach your area as well,” Mist said, shaking her head. “But I assure you, their quarrel is with us. They’ve been in pursuit of us for days now, and I doubt they will become distracted by your existence, particularly if you stay out of their way.”
A rumble sounded in the leader’s throat. It took Rain a moment to recognize it was a laugh. Something about Mist’s comment was humorous to him? His eyes traced over the four of them, lingering on her and Adam, particularly on the way his arm was around her shoulders, the way she had practically adhered herself to his side.
“Give us a moment,” the leader said. Mist nodded, and he turned, but not before saying to the scar, “Crit, keep an eye on them.”
A smile spread across the shifty man’s face, pulling back those lips to reveal even more yellowing teeth. He stepped in front of them, coming closer, pulling the knife with one hand as he slung his rifle around and into position with the other. Whether or not he planned to shoot or stab them if they got out of line remained to be seen. Rain would do neither, though she was surprised the leader hadn’t asked them to drop their weapons. She still had her rifle slung across her back. The group from Dafo was huddled behind Crit, maybe forty feet away, several of them with their backs to the intruders. Only Crit was preventing them from shooting. Was he really that dangerous? It didn’t matter. They meant these people no harm. Maybe they could sense that.
Rain wasn’t sure if she should stare at Crit or look away. The man was doing his best to frighten them, but a glance at her friends’ faces told her they weren’t intimidated by him. Mist was trained in hand-to-hand combat, just like Rain. Adam and Walt were both taller and stronger than Crit. Maybe they knew they could overpower him if necessary. But none of them could outrun a bullet.
The discussion was difficult to read. The leader was speaking now, moving his hands as he spoke, but not making wild gestures. Occasionally, someone else would speak, and many of them were nodding. Eyes shot in their direction frequently as the citizens of Dafo determined their fate.
In less than five minutes, they were back, the leader striding over in front of the others. He dismissed Crit with a wave of his hand. The smaller man snarled as he fell back into line, not putting his knife away, his rifle still at the ready, as if he were capable of shooting and stabbing them at the same time.
Clearing his throat, the leader spoke. “My friends and I have decided to let you stay one night within the borders of Dafo, and then, we will ensure you are escorted out of our territory first thing in the morning. While we applaud your efforts at freeing the men of Michaelanburg, the Motherhood is a strong force, and we simply do not have the power to defeat them. Our forcefield keeps their drones away, and our passages and tunnels provide places for our people to hide, but whenever they launch a bomb attack or invade, we cannot out fight them. Our weapons are not as plentiful, our numbers not as great.”
Rain’s eyebrows shot up. It implied that he was saying the Mothers had bombed and invaded Dafo before. How could that be possible? She wished she could see Mist’s eyes so that she could tell if this was news to her friend or if she was aware.
“We greatly appreciate your kindness,” Mist said, bowing her head. “We will gladly hand over our weapons and packs for safe keeping with one of your associates, but we will, of course, need all of our resources when we leave in the morning.”
“Yes, yes of course. Bali will take your packs. She is able to be trusted.” He gestured for the woman in the orange shirt to step forward. A shy smile lit her pretty face as she did as she was directed.
Rain shrugged out of her backpack, wondering how such a small woman could carry four heavy packs. She took Mist’s first and slung it over one shoulder, then Walt’s, hanging it over the other. She held Rain’s and Adam’s by the handles. With a nod at her leader, she headed off back toward the buildings, walking quickly for someone carrying so much weight.
“Mobe will take your weapons.” The leader waved again, and a man with a shaved head and a much friendlier disposition than Crit came forward to round up their rifles. He waited for Mist to pull her knife out of the pocket of her pants. Rain mentally inventoried her own outfit. She was clean.
“Very well. I am Dal. I am the elected leader of our lands. We do not have much, but we welcome you. You look weary. Let us take you back to our encampment before the sun goes down so that you may eat, and get some rest before your journey continues in the morning.”
“And what if the Mothers show up while we are here?” Mist asked, her voice wavering just slightly on the last word, almost unnoticeably to anyone who didn’t know her as well as Rain.
“Then… we will hand you your weapons back,” Dal said, his jaw set.
Rain took a deep breath. They had no way of knowing how far behind them the Mothers were without the tablet, but the Mothers were coming. The last thing she would ever want was to unleash their fury on these innocent people.
The group began to trek back across the open field toward their home. Rain fell in behind them, but when Adam reached for her hand, she gladly intertwined her fingers in his, feeling stronger with him beside her.