Cruk’s expression sobered. “Look, I know you’d rather Tifty wasn’t coming along. Okay? I get it. But he’s the best shot I’ve got. Say what you like, the guy can punch out a hanger at three hundred yards.”
Vorhees wasn’t aware that he’d been thinking about Tifty at all. But now that Cruk had brought the subject up, he wondered if maybe he was.
“So you think we’ll need him.”
Cruk shrugged. “Summer day like this, we’ll have no problems. I’m just being careful is all. They’re my girls too, you know.” He broke the mood with a grin. “Just so long as Dee doesn’t make a habit of this. I had to call in about fifty favors to put this little party together, and you can tell her I said so.”
The bus drew into the staging area. The last of the sweepers were emerging from the corn, dressed in their bulky pads and heavy gloves and helmets with cages obscuring their faces. An assortment of weapons hung off their persons: shotguns, rifles, pistols, even a few machetes. Cruk instructed the children to remain where they were; only when the all clear was given would they be permitted to exit the bus. As the adults began carting out the supplies, Tifty descended from the platform on the bus’s roof, rendezvousing with Cruk at the rear to confer with the DS officer in charge of the sweeping squad, a man named Dillon. The rest of Dillon’s team, eight men and four women, had gone to take water from the trough by the pump house.
Cruk strode back to where Vorhees was waiting with the rest of the men. Already the sun was blazing; the morning’s humidity had burned away.
“Clean as a whistle—the windbreaks, too.” He shot Vorhees a wink. “That’ll cost Dee extra.”
Before Cruk could even finish making the announcement, the children were bolting from their seats and streaming off the bus, clearing space for the sweepers, who would return to the city. Watching the children as they fanned over the grounds, their bodies and faces lit with excitement, Vorhees was momentarily transfixed, his mind caught in a tide of memory. For many, the youngest especially, the day’s excursion represented their first trip beyond the walls; he’d known this from the start. Yet to witness the moment was something else. Did the air feel different in their lungs, he wondered, the sun on their faces, the ground beneath their feet? Had these things felt different to him, stepping from the transport the first time, all those years ago? And of course they had: to go ex-murus was to discover a world of limitless dimensions—a world you knew existed but had never believed yourself to be a part of. He recalled the sensation as a kind of weightless physical joy, but frightening too, like a dream in which he had been given the gift of flight but found himself unable to land.
By the watchtower, Fort and Chess were sinking poles to erect a sunshade; the women were toting out the tables and chairs and hampers of food. Ali Dodd, her face shaded beneath the brim of her wide straw hat, was already trying to organize some of the children into a game of takeaway. All just as Dee had foreseen when she’d broached the subject of bringing the children along.
“It’s something, isn’t it?”
Vorhees’s cousin, Ty, was standing beside him, holding a hamper to his chest. Over six feet, with a narrow, mournful face, he always reminded Vorhees of a particularly sad-looking dog. Behind them, Dar gave three beeps of the horn; with a belch of oily smoke, the bus pulled away.
“I ever tell you about my first time out?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Trust me,” Ty said, shaking his head in a way that told Vorhees the man had no intention of elaborating. “That’s a story.”
When everything had been unloaded, Cruk called the children under the tarp to review the rules, which everybody already knew. The first thing, Cruk began, was that everyone needed a buddy. Your buddy could be anyone, a brother or sister or friend, but you had to have one, and you had to stay with your buddy at all times. That was the most important thing. The open ground at the base of the watchtower was safe, within those boundaries they could go wherever they liked, but they were not to venture into the corn under any circumstances; the stand of trees at the south end was also off-limits.