The Wild Dead Read online

Teeg glanced up at the sky and around. “We’ll have to wait until morning. We won’t find anything in this light.”

  Dusk was falling. Shadows were long, and the last bit of sunlight filtered strangely through hazy air. Enid didn’t want to wait, but he was right. All she saw was shadow.

  Nightfall, and the promise of another day in this place. Even the golden light over the wetlands was starting to look ominous. She sighed.

  “Right. Let’s get back.”

  Chapter Seven • the estuary

  ///////////////////////////////////////

  Ruin

  By dusk, high tide meant water almost reached the road, shallow waves lapping, receding, and washing smooth the mud flats. The landscape on this stretch must change all the time, especially after a storm. Some of the rusted metal ruins, the pipes and slabs of concrete, were covered up while new ones were revealed. Kellan and other scavengers had their work cut out for them.

  If Kellan hadn’t gone out on the shore today, he wouldn’t have found the body. She’d be covered with water now, and might have washed out to sea when the tide receded. No one ever would have known. And Enid was horrified to find a small part of her thinking that would have been better; there’d be no fuss then, and she’d be on her way home. But no, this was better. The truth was always better.

  She still hoped that someone would come looking for the young woman, eventually.

  Enid’s socks and shoes felt damp. Not wet enough to need to change. Just sticky, like everything else. Made her feel every step of the way. Not painful, but definitely annoying.

  Kids were playing out by the water. Peety from Semperfi, a couple of younger girls. Barefoot, they’d run out to where the crawling surf met the draining river, splashing and shrieking with laughter. One of them had a basket, and Enid saw that they were hunting crabs, little skittering things that came out of the sand to pick at what the water washed out. The kids weren’t doing it very efficiently, spending as much time chasing and splashing one another as searching out their prey. But every now and then, one of them would shout out and rush over to drop a wriggling thing into the basket. Then they’d go back to running around with far too much energy.

  Looked like fun, actually.

  Solar lights were on at Bonavista, and they’d hung a lantern with a candle off the front porch. Enid wondered if this was a usual evening habit, or if they’d left the light out for the investigators to find their way. It made the last little bit of their trek easier. They’d been walking all day, with a lot of talking and thinking, and Enid was bone tired.

  Juni let them into the main house and enthusiastically offered them dinner—she’d made extra. Clam chowder, which smelled rich and full of herbs. Enid’s stomach reminded her she hadn’t had anything to eat since the morning. The rest of the household, seated around the kitchen table, invited them in. Tom was missing, still out on messenger duty.

  The whole place was clean, well kept, cozy. The kitchen and common area occupied the whole front half of the building. In the back, separated by a short hallway, were bedrooms, with doors on either side. All the doors and windows were open now, letting in air and sun. The kitchen had a sturdy table and chairs, plenty of counter space, pots and pans on a shelf.

  Two banners hung on the wall over the front door. Squares of woven cloth, in a checked red and green, a little over a foot on a side. A deep, rich source of color, the brightest things in the room, drawing the gaze right to them. A mark of pride—you had to look at them. Neither of the banners was recent—Tom was a teen, the one before was older still, one of those strong young men collecting reeds from the riverbanks. The household had started up only twenty years before, put together from the pieces of the one that had broken up after Neeve cut out her implant. The old household’s banners would have been put away or sent off with the people who left.

  Juni collected a pair of bowls from a shelf and began filling them with chowder. “Come and sit. We want to know how everything went. What have you decided about Semperfi? You talked to Erik?”

  Enid hesitated, confused for a moment. She hadn’t been thinking of Semperfi at all. “We’ve been a little bit distracted, I’m afraid.”

  “Oh. Yes. I suppose. I assumed . . . if that poor girl isn’t from here, then it can’t possibly have anything to do with us. Can it?” She sounded more hopeful than sure.

  Teeg’s questioning gaze met Enid’s. Asking for her lead on how to deal with this. The poor kid still seemed shaken, his grip on his staff a little too tight. He hadn’t set it aside all day. Now he took up his role as enforcer, standing at the doorway, keeping watch. Folk kept glancing at the staff he carried.

  “That’s one of the things we need to find out, isn’t it? Mind if I ask a couple of questions?” Enid said, looking around to take in everyone in the room. They stared back at her, and if anyone had a contrary opinion, no one said anything. They could always refuse to answer. And she would note that in her reports, along with the rest.

  Weakly, Juni offered the bowls she’d just poured. “But . . . soup’ll get cold.”

  “It’ll just take a minute. You said before, you couldn’t think of anyone around here that has a temper. That still true? Especially lately, has anyone seemed under a lot of stress?”

  Jess said, “If you’re thinking of that argument at Semperfi earlier—”

  “I wasn’t,” she said. “But is that kind of thing usual? You do a lot of arguing around here?”

  “No,” he said. “No, not like that. Not usually. I think everyone’s a little on edge. You know. Investigators.” He nodded at their uniforms, and Enid smiled wryly. “And no one would be angry at a stranger, an outsider. Not like that.”

  Leaning against the counter, resigned to the chowder going cold, Juni added, “Erik’s been stressed about that house. Nagging at people about it. But I wouldn’t say that’s unusual. Just now, when it’s all come to a head.”

  Enid was considering that someone who’d just killed a person would show signs of stress, some kind of agitation. But it might also be the case that someone who was already under stress might act out in a way they wouldn’t, normally. Erik hadn’t been all that surprised to find evidence of a squatter in the house . . .

  She’d have to think about this.

  Next she asked, “You all have machetes? I saw you working earlier today. Does everyone in the Estuary carry them?”

  The silence grew stiff, their stares incredulous.

  Finally, Jess said, “You really think someone here could have done it?”

  As much as Enid wanted to assure them that all was safe, that they had nothing to worry about, she wasn’t sure. Someone had been sleeping in that house at Semperfi. Maybe it was the dead woman. Or maybe it was whoever had killed her.

  “We’re just asking questions,” Enid said, deflecting him. “We went up to Last House. Juni, you and Neeve really twins?”

  The woman seemed taken aback. She turned back to the stove, pausing with a ladle in one hand and a bowl in the other, mouth open like she didn’t know what to say. Surely this couldn’t be an unexpected question. Finally, she recovered, setting the ladle aside. Talked like nothing was wrong. “Yeah, we are. Two babies with one banner—only time anyone in the Estuary ever exceeded a quota.” She chuckled weakly.

  Enid smiled at the joke. “Twins—that’s something special. You didn’t say anything.”

  “Honestly didn’t think about it. Don’t think about her if I can help it. I disown her.”

  “You’re the one turned her in, back when this was Bridge House? When you found out what she’d done?” Enid asked.

  Juni glared hard. “Thought it might save the household. Didn’t do much good, did it? But I got a banner, eventually, didn’t I?” Jaw taut, she jabbed a finger at the red-and-green cloth hanging above the doorway. The thing had happened a generation ago, and she was still angry.

  Jess came up to stand by Juni. “What’s all that got to do with anything?”

  Enid shrugged.
“Nothing, I suppose. I’m just trying to understand the place.”

  Juni said, “And what did they say, up at Last House? What did she say?”

  “That you didn’t get along. Really, I get the impression the Last House folk don’t talk to anyone much.”

  “Got that right,” Jess muttered.

  Juni said, “What did they say about the dead girl? Do they know her? Do they know where she came from?”

  “We’re still gathering information,” Enid said. “It’s best we don’t discuss it until then. In fact, we should probably take dinner out to the work house.” She collected the bowls Juni had poured for them, helped herself to a pair of spoons. Investigators didn’t much socialize while in uniform. One of the hardest parts of their training was learning not to apologize for it. Teeg opened the door for her.

  “Smells good,” he said. “We know you didn’t expect to feed a couple of extra mouths. It’s appreciated.”

  Juni’s shoulders dropped—she’d wanted to hear it all. “You can stay—it can’t hurt anything, can it? Just talking?”

  Enid summoned her kindest smile. “It’s more the principle of the thing. Thanks very much. We’ll leave you folk to it.”

  //////////////////////////////////////////////////

  Bonavista’s work shed was much less cozy than the main cottage. No decoration to speak of, no curtains on the windows, not even a chair for sitting. A work table was set against one wall, and a couple of metal wash basins were shoved in a corner, next to a water pump connected to the cistern outside. They probably did washing here, maybe food prep and preservation. A set of shelves held baskets in various stages of production, waiting to be finished or carried off to market. The place smelled sweetly of dried reeds, tickling the nose. There was a single solar light glaring from a corner. She and Teeg added candles and sat on the floor to eat. The chowder, full of onions and cream, was cooling quickly, but still had enough warmth to melt her limbs and fill her stomach.

  They ate in thoughtful silence. Enid’s mind kept going to the body lying just a few feet under them. They didn’t even have a name for her.

  “Busy day,” Teeg said. Maybe unable to contain himself any longer. “All cases go like this?”

  “Oh no,” Enid said, chuckling. “You don’t usually get a case that lands on you before you’ve even been called out to look at it.”

  “So if we hadn’t been here . . .”

  “Yeah, I’ve been thinking of that.”

  Spoons scraped against wooden bowls.

  “The old case,” Teeg said. “Neeve cutting out her implant. Were you around for that one?”

  How old did he think she was? “No. Before my time.” Her old partner, Tomas—he’d have been around then. He might have heard something. Not that she could ask him. The grief stabbed at her suddenly. It ebbed and flowed like that. Here and now, though, she wondered what he would have done with this, how he would have approached the body, trying to investigate an impossible case. What perspective he’d have offered that would have made it all clear. Or maybe that was wishful thinking.

  She was likely doing this all wrong. But she didn’t know what else to do. She bowed her head and bit her lip a moment, took a deep breath until the moment of loss and vertigo passed. Teeg never noticed.

  “Case like that—it never really goes away, does it?” he said. “Did you see the looks on their faces when we walked into Last House?”

  She had—like they’d seen monsters. Like they really thought the investigation might be continuing after so many years, that Neeve would still face consequences for that long-ago infraction. And wasn’t that the reputation investigators wanted? That you could never, ever forget what you’d done?

  That no one could.

  “She seems so quiet. What could she have been thinking, when she did it?” Teeg asked.

  Neeve likely asked herself the same thing. It had been so long ago. What could that younger version of her have been thinking? “I don’t know. Lots of reasons. They never think they’ll get caught until they do.”

  //////////////////////////////////////////////////

  The night never really cooled off, and the bedrolls they’d brought with them turned out to be mostly useless. Gave them some padding on the floor, at least. Enid had a restless night, was never able to get comfortable. It wasn’t the stark conditions; it was thinking about home . . . and worrying. She didn’t like having her attention divided.

  Morning came with the call of gulls and buzzing of insects.

  She’d fallen asleep and woke back up so many times during the night, that when dawn arrived, light coming in through the shed’s uncovered windows, she watched it until her bladder forced her to get up, put on her boots, and visit the latrine. The air turned sticky as the sun warmed it. This early, the haze that hung over the whole of the Estuary felt particularly thick and wet. The air couldn’t possibly hold more water without rain falling.

  Enid searched the sky out of habit, looking for black walls of clouds on the horizon, the hints of storms building at sea, getting ready to pound the land. They were still in the season for it. She had never before in her life wished for a storm, but that house falling down of its own accord, or being pushed over by an indifferent bit of weather, could resolve a lot of problems and hurt feelings here.

  What would happen if Serenity, her own home, collapsed, and no one could help her and the others shore it up? She felt a pang at that. They’d worked so hard on it, building the physical core of their small household. But she’d be more hurt if anything happened to the people. Sam, Berol, Olive. The baby. She’d give up a house in a heartbeat to keep them safe. They could always build something new, as long as they were all together.

  A noise caught her attention, a steady pounding, drifting across the Estuary. Because of the distance, it sounded vague and indistinct, but it wasn’t natural. It tweaked Enid’s instincts.

  “What’s that?” Teeg asked.

  “Don’t know. I’ll go check it out,” she said.

  “I’ll join you.” He checked his belt pouch, where he kept the tranquilizer patches tucked away. Picked up his staff from where it leaned by the steps.

  “No need, it’s probably nothing,” she said.

  “You said it yourself—if there’s a killer in the area, maybe we shouldn’t go off alone.”

  “There’s that,” she said, sighing. The shrouded bundle still lay stowed—undisturbed—under the work house. From a distance, it wouldn’t look like anything at all. An odd bundle of storage, nothing ominous.

  They set off toward the source of the racket.

  “Will they hold the pyre for her today?” Teeg asked.

  “Likely,” Enid answered. “We’ll need to find out where they usually do these things, and carry her there.” She guessed they held pyres up the hill, closer to the timber, in drier territory where keeping a fire going would be easier. That was going to be a long walk, carrying the body.

  The shadows were long, the light glassy. They trekked across the bridge, stopped, and circled, looking out in all directions, and still couldn’t make out where the noise came from; it echoed, and the marsh seemed to channel sounds oddly.

  “It’s up the road, you think?” Enid asked, looking up to the next household. The noise continued, rhythmic and determined.

  This was only their second day here, and Enid was already tired of hiking this way. They reached Pine Grove, where everything seemed normal. One of the young women of the household was milking goats in a rough-hewn pen outside, in the shade of a barn. Hearing the footsteps, she looked up, her eyes widening at the sight of the uniforms. Quickly, she shoved away the goat she was milking and stood, brushing her hands on her trousers. The animal bleated loudly and trotted off.

  “Hola,” Enid said.

  “You here about the body? The murdered girl? No one here knows anything, I don’t think. None of us knew anything about it—”

  Enid was already shaking her head. “No, we’re not here
for that. You know what’s making that noise?” The banging had gotten louder; they were clearly getting closer.

  “Oh,” she said, relieved. “They’re probably doing something up at Semperfi,” she answered, matter of fact. Like there was often something up at Semperfi involving loud noises.

  “Right. Thanks.”

  “Should have known,” Teeg said as they continued on.

  And yes, the sound was coming from the next household. A hammer, if Enid had to guess. A big one.

  “What is it?” Teeg asked wonderingly. “Erik can’t still be trying to put a new roof on that old thing?”

  Soon enough they came within sight of the ruined house. The sound of barking broke through the continual pounding. Bear the dog raced at them, tail wagging, bouncing, as he charged down the dirt path. Teeg lowered his staff, but Bear didn’t seem to notice and whirled around to run back to the house, then back to them. He made the circuit a couple more times, tongue hanging out of his mouth. Bear was here, so Erik couldn’t be too far away. The noise was coming from down in the gulch. She gestured to Teeg, and they continued around, to the edge of the riverbank.

  And there was Erik, at the bottom of the muddy slope, slamming away at one of the struts supporting the house—not with a hammer, but with a large ax. Big, angry, impressive swings. He’d taken off his tunic and his back was shining with sweat, his hair soaked flat against his head. She was impressed that even being so angry, even putting all his strength into the blows, he never missed. The strut, which might have been a whole tree trunk in another life, was splintering, pale chips flying off the weathered, varnished surface. He’d done this to a number of the struts, damaging them but not destroying any. The dog was barking at him, as if pleading with him to stop.

  “Erik?” she called. He didn’t hear her, or maybe was ignoring her. She cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted. “Erik!”

  Startled, he spun to face them, gasping for breath.

  She said, “Erik. You’re chopping at a support while standing under the weight that it’s supporting.”