“Don’t make me do it, Rin.”
Mast stood between her and the gate, his body tense. He held an axe and a small shield. He was flanked by wall guards—three on one side and two on the other. They were all armed.
“Do what you’re gonna do, Mast. Don’t put it on me.”
Mast closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “If you take another step,” he said with measured patience, “I’ll have Pox ring the bell. We’ll turn you out, Rin. You’ll die out there. We have one rule. You will not break it.”
Rin was only ten feet from Mast, but it was a long ten feet. She didn’t have a pack or a weapon. She wasn’t even wearing her scouting gear. Just sandals and loose-fitting clothes. A scuffed flashlight hung from her belt—nothing more than a reminder of how things were before the tech went dark.
She was dressed for a day of work at the encampment, safe behind the wall. Without her gear, Mast wasn’t exaggerating. She’d die on the outside.
“You’re an idiot,” Rin said.
“I’m trying to protect the encampment,” Mast countered.
“No,” Rin said with quiet determination. “You’re chickenshit. It’s not the same thing.” Absently, she knocked the flashlight back and forth with her fingers. It was a practiced gesture, and she did it with ease.
“I hate that thing,” Mast spat.
Rin raised an eyebrow. “You used to say you wanted one for yourself.”
“I hate it,” he repeated. “I’ve always hated it. It’s dead tech.”
“All tech is dead,” Rin said, not bothering to hide her shit-eating grin.
Behind Rin, folks were gathering. Confrontation was rare in the encampment. In-fighting was too dangerous. The powerful were rarely challenged, Mast least of all. But his angry voice carried from the restricted area near the wall toward the closest buildings. Slowly, a crowd formed, watching the standoff.
Everyone understood the stakes.
“This has gone far enough, Rin. You can fall the fuck in line or I’m turning you out. I don’t care what you’ve done before. I won’t tolerate defiance.”
Rin’s eyes narrowed and her back straightened. “And I won’t tolerate delusions. Mast, the people of this encampment are counting on you—to protect them. To provide for them. To lead them.”
Most of the encampment stood behind Rin. Disheveled and lean, they craned their necks to watch the confrontation. Mast dropped his voice so only Rin and the guards at his side could hear.
“There isn’t a fucking bunker, Rin. Everything died in the EMP. You’re chasing a myth. There’s no tech left—no secret warehouse of batteries or stockpile of food or underground facility. For fuck’s sake, why would you trust a Klamath scout? Half of them died last winter. They’re not trying to team up with us. They’re trying to lure enough of us away to raid our supplies. I won’t let you get us all killed.”
The knuckles of his axe hand turned pale.
Rin looked over her shoulder. She made eye contact with several of those gathered. She studied their hungry faces. She paid particular attention to the children. There weren’t many, but the few there were malnourished and small. Her shoulders dropped as she turned back toward Mast.
“Why won’t you listen?” she asked. “You used to listen to me.”
“And you used to listen to reason,” he replied.
“Do you know why I believe that Klamath scout?” she asked. “Do you know why I’m sure there’s a bunker? He didn’t have enough food to make it back. He wouldn’t even take some of mine. I offered.”
“You offered our supplies to an outsider?!”
“Fucking hell, Mast. I offered food to a dying man. But he refused. He said he’d find the bunker or die trying. He didn’t want the option of turning back. He was that sure. And we’re much closer to the area he was searching than Klamath is. It’s a two-day hike for us. If all the scouts and guards go, we can comb the area in four days, tops. Four days. We could be a week away from fortified shelter, a stockpile of food, and tech.”
She gripped her flashlight.
“Tech that works,” she finished.
“This is your last chance, Rin. Go back to work, or I’m giving Pox the order.”
“No,” Rin said with sadness. “This is your last chance. Listen to me or live with the consequences—for yourself and for the encampment.” She squared her shoulders and stood tall.
Mast nodded with resignation. “Pox, ring the bell. Tack, open the gate.”
The pause that followed was a long one. Too long. After a moment, the guards began to move. Not toward Rin or the gate. Toward Mast.
Rin stepped forward and spoke softly. “I told you, this was your last chance. You may have given up hope, but I haven’t. The others haven’t. We’re not about to let your pride and cynicism kill another dozen because we don’t have enough food or fuel to make it through winter. We’re going to find that bunker.”
Slowly, Mast understood. “You turned them on me,” he said.
“No,” Rin replied. “You turned them on you. You didn’t need any help from me.”
He looked left and then right before accepting the simple fact that he was outnumbered. Likely already plotting his next move, he dropped his axe and his shield where he stood. “To the pen, then?” he asked.
“We have one rule, Mast. You will not break it.”
His eyes went wide.
“Ring the bell, Pox,” Rin said. And then, to Tack, “Open the gate.”
Looking into Mast’s panicked eyes with equal parts determination and sympathy, she finished. “Turn him out.”