The Scourge (A.G. Henley)

CHAPTER Three



I tremble as I approach the mouth of the cave. Invisible hands—rotting, diseased, and smelling of death—clench my throat. I stroke the velvety rabbit’s foot in my pocket to calm myself, and step out into the sun.

Birds call from high in the treetops, and the wind plays with my hair, but otherwise it’s quiet. I take a few tentative steps toward the tree line, hoping Peree is waiting.

“Fenn.”

The compression in my chest loosens a little when I hear his voice. “Where are they? Are they gone?”

“No. You’d better start moving toward the clearing.”

I stand still, struggling with my cowardice. He’s right. I might as well get as far along as I can before they find me—I have to make at least two trips with the sled today—but I still don’t move. I don’t want to admit how much I was hoping the flesh-eaters had gone overnight. And I don’t want to admit how happy I am Peree’s here with me again.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Not really.”

“I’m sorry. I wish–”

“What?” What does a Lofty wish for?

Branches snap in the forest in front of me as something hurtles through the underbrush. Many somethings. I start trembling again.

“I wish the damn things would go burn in whatever hell they came from,” he says, as the creatures explode out of the trees. “Don’t move.”

Bodies fall all around me, pierced by Peree's arrows. I try to block out the sickening smell, and the hideous screams, while a detached part of my mind admires the swiftness of his archery. The arrows don’t seem to let up, as if he’s found a way to loose them without the use of his bow. I picture them shooting from his mouth, the way we spit watermelon seeds in the summer, and a hysterical giggle escapes me.

“Okay, I cleared a little space. You can go now,” he calls. “Watch it, though. There are a few of them on the ground to your right, and one behind you . . . are you laughing?” I tell him what I pictured, and he chuckles. “Speaking of spitting, have you ever heard of a camel?”

“Another strange beast?” I move forward, my hands outstretched to find the familiar tree trunks along the path to the clearing. I dread finding something else, like the dripping flesh of the creatures. “What color are these?”

“Nothing like tigers. Camels were supposed to be a light brown, same as the sands of the deserts where they lived.”

“Deserts?”

“Hot, sandy places with no trees or grasses, and little water.”

“Sounds idyllic,” I say sarcastically. “But maybe no water means no Scourge?”

“Then again, no water means nothing to drink, and nothing to water crops with.”

I raise an eyebrow. What would a Lofty know about watering crops? It’s not like they’ve ever tried—

A scream rips the air beside me. I slap my hands over my ears. A second later there’s a muffled thump. I shiver and move forward again, into the clearing.

“Camels,” Peree continues, “were odd looking, with parts from many different animals, like the ears of a mouse, the coat of a sheep, and the nose of a rabbit.”

“Sheep?” Mice and rabbits abound in the woods, thanks to being small and easily hidden from the flesh-eaters, but I have no idea what a sheep is.

“Sheep . . . are a story for another day. Camels were interesting animals. They stored nutrients in great humps on their backs to use when food was scarce, and they could go a long time without fresh water.”

“And the spitting?” An arrow parts the air in front of my face, and I jerk back. “Remember, no water for anyone if you kill me,” I joke weakly.

“Sorry, I was demonstrating the purpose of camel spit. It was a warning, like my arrows, for others to back off. Although it wasn’t spit so much as, well, stomach contents.” He sounds like he might regret having brought it up.

“Humped backs and projectile vomiting? Lovely.” I reach the far side of the clearing, behind Calli’s shelter, and walk to the beginning of the sled track. The creatures follow, of course. “Did your mother tell you about these . . . what are they called again?”

“Camels.”

“How did she know so much about animals?”

“She knew a lot about a lot of things, but she never said how she learned it all. I think my father knew, but he’s never told me either. He doesn’t really talk about Mother now.”

I remember he said he was fostered, mostly because he told me so casually. The subject of fostering isn’t really taboo among Groundlings; we just avoid talking about it. We don’t talk much about the Exchange, either. It only reminds us why we hate the Lofties.

As Bream is fond of telling us, countless people were consumed by the Scourge after the Fall, generations ago. The scattered, frightened survivors saw that birds and tree-dwelling animals were safe. So they took to the trees, building homes in the tops, complete with rope ladders that could be raised when the flesh-eaters came. They fashioned bows and arrows and learned to use them with lethal accuracy to provide food and to protect themselves. But the trees were crowded and food was scarce. Resources had to be protected. People with dark coloring were arbitrarily forced to the forest floor to become Groundlings. The Exchange began soon after.

Once a year all the weaned Groundling and Lofty babies are sorted. The fair-haired, light-eyed children are taken by the Lofties to live high above the ground, in the sunlit warmth and security of their tree-top aeries. The dark babies are taken by us, to live in fear of the Scourge.

I was a Lofty baby, born with the wrong coloring, and without sight. I often wonder who my natural parents were. If they were relieved to see me go. Raising a Sightless child in the branches of trees can’t be an easy prospect.

Peree swings between two trees, the branch he hangs from groaning under his weight. “There’s the track . . . but you know that already.”

The sled’s at the top of the track, where I left it yesterday. I pick up the harness and begin dragging. The bottom grates against the wooden tracks. Almost instinctively I know the noise is attracting attention of the wrong kind. The hair on my arms stands up as if preparing to run.

“Here they come,” Peree says bleakly.

Flesh-eaters throng around me like flies on a carcass, and fear shoots through the top of my head, blocking out almost any other thought or feeling. It’s all I can do not to sink under the weight of it. I sing under my breath, a song the men sing as they prepare for hunts, meant to build courage. The whistling of arrows and the sound of bodies hitting the ground are my accompaniment.

I pull the empty sled down to the water’s edge and fill the first sack while the water laps around my ankles. It’s cool and enticing. I want to swim out. All Groundlings can swim, and I’m no exception, but as far as I know the creatures can’t. One survivor supposedly escaped the flesh-eaters by treading water for hours before slipping safely back onto land after nightfall.

I’ve never swum alone, but I think about trying it now. I take a few steps farther into the water, the sack slipping out of my hand. The urge to dive in is powerful. After a moment I grasp the sack more firmly, and turn around.

Dragging the sled, with the sounds and smells of the creatures fueling my fear, is almost unendurable. I want to cry, or scream, or commit some terrible act of violence as I pull. But each time I near the top of the hill, Peree’s calm voice—equal parts encouraging, coaxing, and soothing—keeps me moving forward. Still, by the time I tie off the last sack, I feel like one of the creatures—miserable, and mostly dead.

I trudge back through the forest to the caves. Peree speaks as I step into the darkness. I’d almost forgotten he followed me.

“See you in the morning.”

More to myself than to him, I mutter, “I hope not.”



I sit with Calli and Eland later, the rough wall jabbing into our backs. Dinner is dried rabbit and rehydrated beans from the storeroom. I should eat to keep up my strength, but I’m not hungry. The dense, wrinkled texture of the meat is how I imagine the creatures’ skin feels. When I try to swallow it, I gag.

“Bream was even more boring today than usual,” Calli complains. Eland snorts in agreement. “Between the darkness and his voice, I barely stayed awake. Bear kept poking me when I drifted off, thank the stars.”

“He was talking about the Fall again,” Eland moans.

We could all recite Bream’s rotating lectures about the Fall of Civilization—and we sometimes did when we were confident we wouldn’t be overheard mocking him. But I have to admit that experiencing the cause of the Fall firsthand over the last two days gave me a new appreciation for the terror our ancestors must have felt as the Scourge overtook them, turning them one by one into the vast numbers of creatures that now roam the earth.

“Have you ever noticed that he almost seems happy about it? Like we brought it on ourselves or something?” Calli’s voice is pitched low. “Sometimes I wonder if he thinks we all deserve to be, you know, consumed.”

“Calli!” Eland says, sounding scandalized.

“Well, he is obsessed!”

“Aren’t we all?” I say. “Without the Scourge we wouldn’t have to be afraid anymore. We wouldn’t have to hide in these caves. We wouldn’t even have to live on the ground. We could live in the trees, or in the City, or even in deserts, if we wanted. Maybe we could find a camel, or a tiger–”

“What? What are deserts? And tigers? What are you talking about, Fenn?” Calli asks.

I feel them staring at me, and I wish I hadn’t said anything. Suddenly, loud voices ricochet across the cave.

“They cheated us, I tell you!” Adder shouts.

“We can’t be sure of that,” Fox says. His voice is calm. More calm than Adder’s, anyway.

“The sacks aren’t full! What else could it be?”

“Where’s Fennel? We should ask her what happened.” It’s Aloe.

I stand, willing my tired legs not to wobble, hoping I look stronger than I feel. “Over here.”

Adder reaches me first, moving so silently I’m sure he must have slithered. “Did you fill all four sacks today?”

“Yes.” I try to keep my voice even, but a defensive note creeps in. People gather around, their whispers reverberating against the walls of rock.

“All the way to the top?” Sable asks. “Each of them?”

I hesitate. Between fighting my fear of the creatures, and resisting the urge to swim away from them, I can’t remember whether I did or not.

“Fennel,” Aloe says, “I know you did your very best. But the sacks the Lofties brought to us were only three-quarters full. To the best of your knowledge, did you fill them all the way up?”

“I don’t know. I think so.”

“You see?” Adder explodes. “They’re cheating us, pulling off extra water! Fennel, tomorrow you’ll collect one sack for us. Don’t give it to the Lofty Keeper to hold. Drag it back here instead.”

“So you’ll put us on water rations to punish the Lofties?” Fox still sounds composed, but there’s a sharp edge to his voice.

“I’ll do what it takes to show them we won’t be taken advantage of,” Adder says.

“We should discuss this. The girl isn’t sure,” Sable says.

“There’s nothing to discuss! We won’t tolerate Lofty deceit.”

“Adder, Sable, we should speak somewhere more private.” Aloe's voice holds a warning. The crowd has grown. She squeezes my shoulder reassuringly before the Three move away. People disperse, muttering in worried voices.

I sink back down to the freezing floor. My one responsibility was to fill the bags and deliver them to the Lofties. Did I fill them completely? Could I have been so distracted that I only filled them part of the way? Wouldn’t Peree have pointed it out if I had? How could I have failed to do the one thing that was expected of me? Calli and Eland go back to their meals, but I push the rest of mine aside. What little appetite I had is gone now. Someone drops down next to us.

“Damn Lofties,” Bear says. “Stealing from us—after all you went through to collect water for them.”

“What do you think happened, Fenn?” Calli asks. “Could the sacks have leaked somehow?”

I shrug, feeling helpless. How can I explain my state of mind while I was filling and tying those sacks? I can’t, not without admitting I was almost paralyzed with fear, dependent on the voice of a Lofty to pull me through.

“We all know Fenn did her duty well, as she always has,” Bear says, patting my back. I’m touched by his unquestioning faith, even as it causes fresh guilt to rip through me. I smile a half-smile at him. “It was probably that Lofty Keeper of yours. Wouldn’t be surprised if he quenched his own thirst before delivering the sacks, then blamed it on you.”

My smile fades. “Peree wouldn’t do that."

“I didn’t like the look of him,” he continues. “Looked like he’d cheat his own mother out of her ration if he got the chance.”

“Don’t say that about him.” My voice is harsh, indignant; it surprises everyone, including me. “He wouldn’t steal the water, or blame me. And his mother’s dead. She was taken by the Scourge.”

I can almost see Calli shoot Bear a warning glance. “Okay, okay, we believe you,” she says.

My friends soon start talking again, but I don’t join in. I pull my knees up and bury my face in my skirt, feeling awful. An undercurrent of unrest ripples through the cave, moving from group to group, riding the flickering light of the torches.



The Three decide I’ll fill only one bag the next day, for us. They figure that’s all I can carry back with me, and I’m not going to argue. Aloe walks with me through the passage to the mouth of the cave, her stick tapping like a heartbeat. She gives me a message to pass on to Peree: The Groundling Council of Three will allow me to resume collecting water for the Lofties when they receive an official apology from the Lofty Council for the theft of our ration.

“What if I . . . what if . . .” I can’t admit my doubts out loud.

“I tried to explain to the others how difficult the first few days among the creatures are. That you may not be at all certain what you did or didn’t do. But Adder would not be swayed, and in the end Sable agreed, to pacify him. I was outvoted.” She sounds so tired.

“But this is going to antagonize the Lofties!”

“I know. Adder seems determined to start something with them, something that won’t end well for either side.”

“What should I do, then?”

I feel her draw herself up to her full height. “Your duty, as we all must.”

She embraces me at the mouth of the cave. I hang on to her for a moment, like I used to when I was frightened by a thunderstorm, or by stories the older children told of the flesh-eaters. But instead of pulling me into the comfort of her thin chest like she would have then, she presses me away.

“Be safe, child.”

Despite her words, I think my childhood is now behind me.



I enter the forest, wondering when and how to give Peree the Council’s message. Do I get our water and then tell him? Or tell him first? What’s the protocol for picking a fight? Or did the Lofties already pick one by stealing our water?

“Good morning,” Peree calls. “No sightings of fleshies in the forest this morning. We might be in luck.”

“Really? They’re gone?” If the Scourge left, maybe it will smooth over the conflict. The caves seem to drive people to do foolish, reckless things. Daylight rights their sense of perspective.

“No, they’re by the water hole. I meant you should be able to get a little farther without drawing their attention.”

“Oh.”

“But I have a surprise for you.” He sounds excited, his voice higher than normal.

I have a surprise for you, too, and it’s not a good one. “What is it?”

“You’ll see.”

“I’ll see? That is a surprise.” It’s a bad joke, I know. He groans, and I laugh, until I remember what I’m about to do. I walk on in silence.

It’s quiet—quiet enough to hear the birds singing in the trees far above. It’s also sweltering. Full summer arrived while we hid in the caves. I blot my forehead with my sleeve, and wonder if it’s any cooler in the trees. I ask him without thinking: “What’s it like up there?”

He hesitates. “Leafy.”

I flush; of course a Lofty won’t tell me anything about his beloved trees. After a moment he asks, “What’s it like down there?”

“Hot,” I mutter as I move to the front of the sled to strap the harness on. I take off down the track.

“Fenn, wait—your surprise! Reach inside the sled.”

I shove my hand in the back. All I find is a coil of scratchy rope. I hold it up questioningly.

“There’s a loop at the end,” he says. “Put it around your waist.”

“Why?”

“Yesterday you looked like you wanted to swim. I’ve got the other end tied up here. You can swim out for as long as you like, and when you’re ready to come in, I’ll pull you back to shore.”

I move my hand up the rope. Sure enough, it’s hanging from the trees. I give it a tug. Feels secure.

“Really? You would do that?” I ask him. I doubt the other Lofties would be thrilled about Peree helping me take a swim while they wait for their water. I don’t even want to think about what my Council would say. “Did you get permission?”

“What they don’t know won’t hurt them.”

I’m astonished at his daring, touched by his thoughtfulness, guilty I’m even considering it, and more than a little worried we’ll be caught. But the temptation of escaping the heat, the tension, and especially the fleshies is more than I can resist. I throw the rope over me and secure it around my waist, grab the sled, and hurry down the hill to the water’s edge.

The creatures surround me, but I dart past them. I drop the sled at the end of the track and kick off my shoes. When the water reaches my torso I spread my arms wide and dive forward, the rope trailing behind me. It’s cool, but not cold. Blissful.

I swim out, using a strong overhand stroke, putting a little distance between myself and the shore. Then I stop, tread water, and listen behind me. The flesh-eaters sound distant already. So it’s true, they don’t swim. I laugh like a child who got away with something naughty, and turn over to float on my back. With my ears underwater, their cries are muffled. I lay like that, basking in the warmth and the relative silence.

I swim around, flipping from my front to my back, careful to keep the rope from tangling around me. Whenever I feel like escaping the noisy reminder of what waits for me on the shore, I dive underwater. My dress is waterlogged and heavy. I want to take it off, but of course I can’t. Not with a male Lofty audience on shore.

What possessed Peree to arrange this treat for me? Was he only being nice? Was it a bribe? I bolt up at the thought. Did he do it so he’d have something to hold over my head? Like, I have to bring the Lofties extra water or he’ll tell about the swim? Why did I trust him so readily? What am I doing enjoying a swim, anyway, while my community holes up in the caves, waiting for water?

Diving again, I kick toward the bottom. The grasses slip through my grasping fingers. I hold my breath and fight to remain in the safe, alien world for as long as I can. When I start to feel light-headed, I surge back up to the surface, gasping. Then I tug on the rope to tell Peree I’m ready to come back. Even though I’m not.

The rope tightens around me, towing me in. I don’t resist, but I don’t help either. The cries of the creatures swell, and my anxiety surges apace. What will Peree ask for in return for this reprieve? My feet graze the sandy bottom, and I stand up and loosen the loop of rope. One of the creatures moans, panting its reeking breath in my face. Welcome back.

I throw my end of the rope in the sled, then fill one of the empty sacks and load it. Water streams from my sopping dress as I haul the sled to the top of the hill.

Peree calls to me from the trees. “How was your swim?”

No matter what the consequences, I owe him a sincere thank-you. “Wet, and wonderful. You have no idea how wonderful. I feel human again for the first time since the Scourge came. Thank you, Peree.”

“You’re welcome,” he says, sounding pleased. “Hey—why did you only fill one sack? Now you’ll have to make extra trips.”

I stiffen. Here it comes. “How many sacks do you need?”

“Normal ration. Two.”

My body relaxes. So Peree didn’t arrange the swim as some kind of bribe. He isn’t asking for a favor. He wanted me to be able to escape the flesh-eaters for a few minutes, to swim on a hot day and enjoy myself.

The Three will be furious with me if I don’t follow their directive and give him their message. But how can I tell Peree now that there will be no water for the Lofties at all? That he, or someone he cares about, will have to suffer?

I can’t.

I hope I look genuine as I smack my head, and smile up at him. “With the excitement of the swim and everything I forgot to fill the second sack! Here, take this one up and I’ll go fill two more. My Council only asked for one sack, but we need it before dark. I’ll take it back with me.”

“Take it back with you? How?”

“I’ll drag it. So let me fill two more, and we can be on our way.”

“I don’t get it. Why–”

“Peree, please, I need to move.” It’s true; the creatures are pressing in. Something brushes my ankle and I swallow a scream. Arrows buzz past me. Peree still sounds puzzled when he tells me I can move.

I hurry back to the water. I don’t want to lie to Peree any more than I have to, after what he did for me. I still can’t believe it. It was a simple gesture—he knew I wanted to swim, and he arranged it so I could—but I’ve never heard thoughtfulness toward Groundlings mentioned as a common Lofty trait. Who is this Keeper of mine?

I fill the bags, deliver one to him, and yank the other onto the ground behind me. It’s unwieldy, but not impossible to pull.

“If you have to take the sack back now, why don’t you let me bring it up and carry it for you?” he asks.

Not a chance. This is the one part of the Three’s orders I’m actually following, so I’m following it to the letter. “No thanks, I’ll manage.”

We set off back toward the clearing, a smaller group of the creatures following. Struggling to drag the sack behind me, I’m thankful for my cool, wet clothes. But I feel sick, thinking about how to tell Aloe I disobeyed the Three’s order.

Peree’s been quiet, walking along above me. Suddenly he says, “Have you ever heard of a water dragon?” I haven’t, of course. “It’s kind of a lizard. You remind me of one."

The branch I’m wrestling out of my way almost decapitates me as I let it go prematurely. “What? You’re saying I’m like a lizard?”

“No, I . . . well . . . okay, I am. While you were swimming I was thinking about . . . admiring . . . your capabilities.”

I throw out an arm, then snatch it back to the safety of my side. “My capabilities? Which ones? Being slimy, or good at scurrying up trees?”

“Lizards aren’t slimy, they’re dry and scaly, like snakes.”

“Scaly?” I sputter.

“And by capabilities, I mean how you do your duty without complaint. How you find your way with no hesitation. You swim like a, well, like a water dragon. I wouldn’t be surprised if you could scurry up a tree—you do everything else better than most sighted people.”

I feel blood rushing to my cheeks. I’m not used to praise like this. And certainly not from a Lofty. “Oh. Thank you.”

“No hesitation, no stammering. See, you even take compliments well,” he teases.

“I’m just so used to them,” I joke, “hearing them all the time like I do.”

He groans. “Ah, there it is, the conceit. I knew there was a dark underbelly to all that excessive competence.”

I smile and start walking again, following the path out of the clearing, toward the caves, counting my paces. The creatures match my steps.

“You don’t need a Keeper, you know. You do fine on your own.” Peree sounds disappointed, like he wishes that wasn’t true.

“No, I don’t.” I want to leave it at that, but after everything he said, it doesn’t seem fair. “Your voice, it gets me through the day. Knowing you’re there, it’s what keeps me going.” I wonder if I’ve just thrust my face into a wall of fire, or if it only feels that way.

“You failed to mention my unparalleled skills with a bow and arrow.”

I snort. “Now who’s conceited? But yes, body count is an undeniable part of your charm. And what would I do without a Keeper to keep me honest?” I’m teasing, but my face flames again. I’m being anything but honest today.

“There is that.”

I leave the semi-darkness of the trees and step into the sunlight. The cave mouth should be a few paces in front of me. “Thank you. For the swim, and for calling me a lizard.”

He chuckles. “You’re welcome. I’ll see you–”

“In the morning,” I finish. But I’m not so sure. I’m not sure I’ll live to see the morning after the Three discover my duplicity.