“Well, we’ll see if we can fix that when you’re feeling a bit better,” Girard said. “The dressing is going to sting for a few minutes, because there’s some healing in it. If you’re ok with it, I’ll give you a shot of painkiller?”
“Yes, please,” Rhodda said, and opened her eyes, frowning at him. “Couldn’t you have done that first?”
Hallie choked on a laugh, as that question had been in her mind, too.
“Sorry, no. I needed to see what the wound looked like first to know what you needed,” Girard said. He drew a ready-filled injector from the medical pack and pressed it to the skin next to the medical patch, pushing the plunger home. “That should hold you for a few hours. When it starts to wear off, you can take these.” He held up a blister pack of tablets. “Only one at a time. Any more and you’ll get really fuzzy headed.”
“Yeah,” Rhodda said, taking the tablets from him. “I’ve had these before. Took too many once and had the weirdest trip of my life.” She gingerly put her hand on her abdomen, lightly brushing the medical dressing, and sighed in relief. “A lot better. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. There was no sign of infection, which was good, but of course keep an eye on it. I can change the dressing later, or give you a fresh pack and you can do it.” Girard held up a sealed packet that Hallie recognised as being a first-aid sterile dressing, and gave it to Rhodda when she put her hand out. Grateful for the help, Hallie judged, but wanting to deal with her own injuries rather than rely on some near-stranger. Hallie approved.
“Soup’s ready. Probably getting cold, actually,” Hallie said. She handed Rhodda a bowl and the metal spoon that came with the bowl, then passed the next one to Girard.
When they’d all had a bowl of soup, and Girard had tidied away the medical pack, he handed out protein bars and gave a small bottle of water to Rhodda, then settled back, turning his gaze to her.
“I suppose you want to know what’s been going on,” she said.
Chapter eleven
“Iwouldverymuchliketo understand what’s been happening, yes,” Girard confirmed, far more politely than the demand for information that was lodged in Hallie’s throat.
“How much do you know?” Rhodda asked.
“The Conclave lost contact with Waller Howther, who’d been the liaison here, and then the radio stopped being answered a few days later. About five days ago now. We got here yesterday, to the smaller settlement. The newer one. We found it empty. No sign of anyone. The radio had been sabotaged. Someone removed the amplifier and took the spare. And someone also stuck a bit of metal into its workings,” Girard said. “We were heading for the older settlement on the coast when we found you.”
It was a very good summary, Hallie had to admit, even as it missed out some details, such as the body they’d found and the awful swarm of creatures. But it was aimed at Rhodda, not meant to be a complete report.
“I hid the spare,” Rhodda admitted, not meeting Girard’s eyes. “When I realised that someone was trying to stop us using the radio, and had already stolen the amplifier from inside the housing, I took the part we couldn’t replicate and hid it. It’s safe.”
“Good,” Girard said, “so we’ll be able to get the radio working again if we need it.”
“Someone else took the amplifier out of the radio?” Hallie asked, attention snagging on that detail. “But didn’t take the spare?”
“Unless you knew where the spare parts were, it would have taken a while to find,” Rhodda said, shifting her weight slightly. Something had made her uneasy. Perhaps the knowledge that one of the people she’d shared a living space with had tried to cut off their communication. That would be enough to make anyone uneasy, Hallie thought. From her and Girard’s experience looking through the inventory and boxes in the radio room, Rhodda’s prediction that it would take time to find the spare part was accurate.
“Please go on,” Girard invited Rhodda.
“The morning the radio didn’t work at all. I’ve lost track of time - five days ago, did you say? Well, I was about to fix the radio when the gunners came,” Rhodda said. Her face and voice were tight, and she’d wrapped both arms around her mid-section. “The gunners insisted everyone should go with them. I got away long enough to hide the spare part, and then I tried to hide, too. I didn’t want to go, but they made me.” She turned her head slightly and Hallie saw something she’d missed before - the faint swelling of bruising on one side of her face. “They made me ride at the back, next to one of their thugs.” Her eyes filled. “We were more than halfway there when we were attacked. Had to be the governor’s men, although I didn’t get a good look. Lots of bullets. The others with me, I don’t know if they got away orif they were taken, but the ATV flipped over and caught fire. I crawled away in all the chaos and hid. Passed out from the pain. Managed to get some water from the moss on the trees. Not sure how long it was. I think I lost a day or so.”
Girard had stayed quiet and still, focus on Rhodda as she told her story. Hallie knew he’d want to go over it, and pull out details. She’d seen him work before. So it was no surprise when he nodded as Rhodda fell silent. “Tell me about the gunners?”
Rhodda’s expression turned to one of genuine surprise, and then she shook her head. “I’m sorry. We’ve lived with them for so long, and I’ve not talked to anyone new for such a long time.” She drew a breath. “The principal calls them his security force. Everyone else calls them gunners. They think they’re law enforcement, but we don’t have cops here. They’re just thugs.”
“The Conclave’s information has a lot of gaps in it,” Girard commented, his easy tone at odds with the tension Hallie could see across his shoulders. The basic information she and Girard had been given had suggested the islanders had a few handguns, nothing more, and now they were finding out that there were at least two groups with weapons. Hallie could feel her own neck and shoulders tightening. Girard managed to stay outwardly calm as he focused on Rhodda. “The principal? Is that who the Conclave was speaking to?”
“No.” Rhodda gave a half-laugh. “The principal. Well, no one chose him. He gave himself that title. Nicholas Rigg. One of the first settlers in New Hope. That’s the main settlement. The one by the coast. He got here and tried to take over everything. He thinks he’s in charge. He’s got the gunners who follow him. Has a few other people he pretends to rule with. No one chose them, either.” She paused, and Hallie saw sorrow cross her face. “It could have been a lovely place. New Hope. A beautiful name. But it didn’t turn out that way. We had to follow Nicholas’ rules. Some people left when they could - got rides on the ships thatcome here, worked their way off the island. Went back to their old lives. And those who didn’t leave keep their heads down and get on with things as best they can.” Rhodda’s face tightened and Hallie could see old sorrow and a spark of anger before she went on. “A few of us - barely a handful in the end - decided we wanted to try to make our own way, build a life for ourselves and not for Nicholas and his friends. About a year, year and a half ago, we moved out, started Reunion. That’s the place you came from.” As she spoke, the sorrow faded and hard determination took its place.
Hallie found herself wanting to ask for more details, more information, about what had gone on in New Hope that had made Rhodda and the others want to leave, and how people had felt about going back to their old lives. No one chose to come to Paradise on a whim. Or, at least, not from low city. It was an act of desperation, a last hope for many at being able to live free ofhochlenrules, and at being able to make their own life. People in low city might have had the illusion of freedom, of being able to make their own choices, but many people lived within a family vine, subject to the whims of the Magrave or Magravine, and everyone, even the family leaders, were subject to the whims of thehochlen.
“New Hope. Reunion. Got it, thank you,” Girard said. He waited a beat and then asked the next question. “Did the gunners say why they wanted you to go with them?”
“They don’t give reasons to the likes of me. But it would have been nothing good,” Rhodda said, looking away. For the first time, Hallie didn’t believe her. Everything Rhodda had told them until that point had been the truth, or what she believed to be the truth. She wasn’t a very good liar. Even without Hallie’s truth sense, she’d have seen the lie.
“What was it?” Girard asked. He’d seen the lie, too. He didn’t have Hallie’s truth sense - no one else did, as far as she knew - but he was good at his job.
“Things are not always what they seem here,” Rhodda answered, mouth pulling in a grimace. “Whoever named this place Paradise had a sick sense of humour.”
Hallie exchanged glances with Girard over Rhodda’s head. It was clear that the injured woman didn’t want to tell them what the gunners had wanted. And they couldn’t compel an answer out of her. Or, at least, Girard couldn’t. He was out here with only Hallie for back-up. But Hallie was a different matter. Her stomach twisted, nausea rising. She’d apparently been able to compel people to answer her at least twice before now. Those had each been accidents. The thought of using her truth sense deliberately to try and force Rhodda to answer them - of taking away the woman’s free will - made Hallie want to be sick.
