(42) A Way In The Wilderness

We return to the hollow together after dark. Someone's lit a fire, but only half the students are gathered around it. We've lost another dozen, slipped away into the hills while we visited the grave site of the lives we once lived. The rest conspire in clusters or sit alone on the empty hills, hugging their knees and staring into nothingness. A few have gone to sleep already. Exie orders others to wake them while I approach the guards around the teachers.

"Untie them," I say.

The guard from before gives me an exceptionally skeptical look. "Beg pardon—or don't—but I wouldn't trust a single one of these if I had a gun in hand and three days to run."

"You don't have to." I look the nearest teacher dead in the eye. "If they cooperate, you'll never have to see them again."

The girl snorts, but the fight I've braced for doesn't come. In another minute, the teachers have been untied and herded closer to the fire. Exie has found a rock to stand on. She's still shorter than most of the other students, but the tall ones have enough respect to sit for her. Everyone falls silent as she steps up on her podium.

"We have a proposition to make," she says, voice ringing clear around the hollow. "We know most of you are probably questioning where to go from here. This is your chance to make a decision: to go back to your old life, or to start a new one altogether. If you wish to return to society as you knew it, your train leaves tonight. Any former staff here who choose to cooperate"—she levels a long and pointed look at the teachers—"will be heading to a nearby town to report the fire and subsequent collapse of the school. As far as formal documentation is concerned, whoever goes with them will be that fire's only survivors."

Heads perk up all over the hollow. I watch the teachers closely, but they don't seem about to object. After the threats they've gotten, I suspect they're just glad to be getting out of this alive.

Exie continues, "The rest of you are free to leave as you please. You can find your way back to friends or family on your own, or disappear however you want to. Everyone else here, on a show of hands, will support your disappearance."

Hands go up all over the hollow. I don't see a single dissenter—or at least one stupid enough to expose themself. A binding agreement isn't the point of this exercise anyway. Exie's just letting the group see who their enemies might be if they choose to rat out their fellow students. There's profit in betrayal. I'm sure at least a few rich families will have rewards for finding their children the moment news of the school's destruction spreads.

When the consensus is finalized, another hand goes up. It's a remarkably polite gesture for this crowd, but such social norms have arisen spontaneously since Exie took over. I suspect everyone knows we're in the same boat here, so they've nothing to gain by antagonizing fellow troublemakers.

"Juliet?" says Exie.

"Is there a different option?" says Juliet, lowering her hand again.

"Like what?"

"Well... besides going in a group with them, or taking off alone. Is there any group leaving together? For anywhere, I guess."

"Some of us will be leaving together, yes," says Exie, and I see nods from other friendship clusters. "Do you mean a bigger group?"

"I'd stay with a bigger group," says Clarice.

"Same," says another student.

Barnabas nods. Gilbert beside him looks to be considering it. The hollow breaks out in murmuring as people warm to the possibility.

"Show of hands," says Exie, cutting through the stir. "Who would come along if you knew a group was sticking together?"

At least two dozen hands go up.

"And who would leave with the teachers?" continues Exie.

Another two dozen. That's most of the students left in the hollow. The remainder, I can only assume, are still planning to leave alone like the ones who've slipped away already.

Exie meets my eye over the crowd. "Give us a minute," she says, then comes to join me at the hollow's edge. We move up a hill where we're less likely to be overheard.

"I'd stay with a group," I admit. "What's the market like for mercenaries?"

"I've got one better." In the light from the fire behind us, Exie looks distinctly conspiratorial. This is the sparkle-eyed mischief I was waiting for earlier. "You know the plan I had for running away from home and changing my identity? If we have people willing, there's room in it for more than just us."

We gather the students who want to return to their own lives first. I corner the teachers as they're shunted to one side of the hollow. Several shift back a step, though I'm nowhere near their personal space.

I smile. "Remember the drill. Anyone not with you here is legally missing, most likely dead. You've seen some running away, but don't know where they ended up. You saw the school come down. You will cooperate with authorities to explain the fire as we've discussed already, and if you ever even think of doing otherwise, remember who you're traveling with. There is a reason many of the students in your company ended up in your cult-school."

It's a thinly veiled way of saying they could be in the presence of murderers for all they know. I couldn't confirm it, but quite frankly, I don't care. The moment this group is gone, they'll cease to be my problem.

"Are we in agreement?" I say.

I get a solemn oath from each of them, for show, then turn to face the students gathered on the slope behind me. All look suitably harrowed. At least one good liar has a survival story I'd trust to fool authorities. There are perks to having delinquent friends.

My smile to these ones is genuine. "Good luck."

We see them off into the night. Then we douse the fire and clear out to another hollow a half-hour's walk away. It'll take time for that group to betray us if they still choose to do so, and we want a good head start if any search party arrives. It's nearly midnight by the time we reconvene. I'm no longer tired. The remaining group, two dozen strong, is mostly friendly faces. There's a new energy among them them sets my blood abuzz.

"Alright, spill it," says Juliet, her eyes alight with interest.

Exie clasps her hands primly and looks pleased. "So... I have a property. On an island in the southern Yellow Sea."

I count the expressions of shock with barely contained glee. Mouths fall open, eyes spring wide, and students sit up straighter. I knew Exie was clever, but she really outdid herself this time. When she finally told me her runaway plan, I was hard-pressed not to kiss her all over again. I might have failed. In my defense, that was when she reached the south-Yellow-Sea part. She didn't just pick somewhere far away. She picked somewhere warm.

"For safety's sake, I won't name that island until we know who is one hundred percent in on this plan," Exie continues. "The only thing you need to know is that it's set to be entirely owned within two years, under a name I will legally assume when we arrive. Now, I was preparing to live alone there until I found a partner. But the other thing about this island is... there's a port on it. Just a little one; slightly legal operations tend to stay small when trying to avoid detection. I've heard this one's mostly run by a politically affiliated syndicate, but I'll leave the details on that to my beloved here, who alerted me to the port's nature in the first place."

I grin as eyes turn to me next. My father prided himself in matching on-shore suppliers with trustworthy shipping merchants, but he knew the underbelly of the industry by extension. I've long suspected he's matched illicit merchants with each other, too. Exie's family isn't the only one with money, though hers certainly has more. Enough to grant their daughter funds to support an "overseas mission" for six years, given nothing but Exie's heartfelt, fabricated testimony about successful Christian conversions in some nonexistent jungle tribe.

As for me, I've stopped cursing my father for his pontifications. I've absorbed them all—shipping details to Gothic architecture. I'll use it as it serves me.

"Suffice to say," says Exie, "the port is corrupt, but wealthy. If we had enough willing bodies, there would be work to be done and jobs to be taken. There would be black-market money, and shady political money, and lots of better things to spend it on. Given adequate espionage and documentation—together with that money—there is leverage against authorities. If played right, an exposée could become extremely costly for those currently in charge."

"We could take things?" says Clarice, clapping like a little girl at Christmas.

"Espionage?" says Barnabas, with a glitter in his eye. I'm glad they're on our side.

"You're proposing we take over the port," says Juliet. She's grinning.

"If we have adequate skills on hand, yes."

"Send me any ledger. I can parse the numbers if it's someone else's, or if it's ours, make those numbers say whatever you want."

"Will there be leadership positions available?" says Gilbert with a slight frown. "I would prefer to work my way up a ladder."

"So you're our mole," says Barnabas, his grin now rivaling Juliet's. "Any opposition to slipping us a document or informational tip now and again?"

"Just name your document, and I will do what I can."

"My parents were merchants," chips in another student. "I'm pretty good at spotting illegal shipments."

This triggers a veritable waterfall of other contributions.

"I've got money."

"I can get us a boat."

"I probably know some of that port's clients. Not the political ones. The... you know."

Juliet is on her feet now, pacing regally as she and Exie list off roles and skills for various participants. We still have two thuggish students with us here, perfect for honest heavy lifting, bodyguarding, or occasional intimidation. By the end of an hour, every single student still around the fire has joined our pact.

"Just one thing," I say, and the group falls silent for me. I falter briefly beneath so many eager eyes, but the warmth of cross-shaped metal beneath my shirt reassures me. "We don't steal from people who don't deserve it. We don't kill unless there's no other option. We don't become hoarders for the sake of greed. I know my parents, and I don't want to turn into them. If we don't have some sort of moral code, I don't want to be a part of this."

"I stand by that," says Exie, and others nod. "If anyone disagrees, they are welcome to find their own work somewhere off my property."

Juliet puts an arm across her chest, already our unofficial vote of agreement. One by one, the rest of the circle follows. I almost cry. Exie too is fairly glowing.

"Then it's a deal," she says. "We leave tomorrow morning. I know a place we can stay while we sort out transport, so anyone who wants to arrange their own after-death affairs can do so. I have one trip I need to make with anyone who'll join me." She meets my eye. "If we're starting this business, there's one more person we need."

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