I lifted a foot, and stumbled. My trouser leg was caught under the other foot, and I was falling.
Gray
If I hadn’t been holding the shovel and the torch, I could’ve caught her. As it was, I was a split second too late.
Her entire body jerked as her hands and knees made contact with the wires, and I was grabbing her under the arms and yanking her across. My own hand brushed the mesh as I did it, and the shock jolted me hard.
Electric fences don’t kill. The amperage is too low. They just make you very sorry you’ve touched them.
I didn’t call out. That didn’t surprise me. What surprised me was that she didn’t, either.
I whispered, “All right?”
She nodded, and I set her on her feet, whereupon she dropped down and rolled up her trouser legs and jacket sleeves with hands I guessed were trembling, and I picked up my shovel and torch again.
The night was lit by the risen moon, and I’d never felt as exposed as I did walking across that stretch of lumpy paddock toward the dark shed. I could see the tension in Daisy’s shoulders, and I could see the determination, too.
I could understand why she was so tense. Why was I, though? What did I think they’d do to me?
My safety wasn’t what was worrying me, though, not really. It was not getting those girls out. And it was whatever was eating Daisy up from inside, forcing her to keep going through her fear by pure effort of will. She was past thought now, operating at that extreme edge where all you had left was mana, the courage and commitment that pushed you on when all you wanted was to turn back.
We were nearly there now. A dog barked nearby, and she froze a second, then started to run. When she stumbled over the trousers again, I grabbed her under the arms and half-carried, half-dragged her to the shed, then set her down, pressed on the latch, and tumbled inside with her. I shoved the door closed behind me, remembering at the last moment not to slam it.
It was black dark in here, but I could sense a human presence. The hair rose on the back of my neck, and I gripped the shovel tighter.
“Shine the light,” Daisy told me. “On us.” She kept talking while I did it, keeping her voice low. “This is Gray. He’s helping us.”
I shone the light toward the source of the whisper, then, and picked up the white of an apron, a cap, a figure about as slight as Daisy’s. A white face, too, turning away from me.
“But he’s a man,” the girl said.
“It’s all right,” Daisy said. She didn’t wait any longer, but ran to the other girl and took her in her arms. “He’s helping. It’s all right.” The girl’s shoulders began to shake, but her sobs were silent, the same way Daisy had been when she’d fallen onto that fence. “Shh,” Daisy told her. “We need to be very quiet. We need to go fast. Where’s Fruitful?”
“She’s …” There was a hitch in the voice, and then the whisper. “In the Punishment Hut. She’s locked in. I couldn’t get her out. I couldn’t … And I didn’t know whether to come here or not, and then you didn’t come, and I thought they’d find me, and I wanted to go back, but you said not to go back, and …” She couldn’t go on. She was shaking too hard.
Daisy said, “Quiet.” Still in that low voice. “Is the Punishment Hut still in the same place? Next to the milking shed?”
“Yes,” the girl managed to say. “It’s the same.”
Daisy said, “Come on.” She took the girl’s hand, then came to me and said, “Follow me. Don’t use the light.”
She opened the door.
We’d forgotten about the dog.
7
Return of the Hero
Daisy
Part of me wanted to curse myself for dragging Gray into this when I’d known better. The other part was just glad he was here. That was what I was thinking when I opened the door with Obedience crowding through behind me.
The low growl came from out of the night, and then the dog was stalking forward. Seventy-five Kg’s of Anatolian Shepherd, walking stiff-legged toward us, tail held high.
Gray brought up his shovel and stepped in front of me. I said, “No. Wait,” and asked Obedience,