Chapter 20: Sheltering
WE'RE WALKING ALONG in bright sunshine. It's cold, but it's perfect— the kind of morning where quiet morphs into reverence and a simple stroll can leave you feeling like you've never seen the world before. Oscar carefully tears his muffin in half, catching the escaping crumbs in his cupped palm, and hands the largest half to me. I don't dare refuse.
I hold it to my nose and smell. It's still warm, pouring moist, sweet steam around my face. I bite into it. The sugary cake melts around my tongue, and in-between is pockets of berry goo, warmer than the rest. It's absolute heaven. But I look down at Oscar, and he's grinning with purplish berry juice around his mouth, and I forget everything but him.
"Let's find some place quiet to sit," he says, his smile stretching. "I have buckets of stuff to tell you."
We laugh our way toward a crossroad where the connecting street is quieter. My piece of muffin disappears in a gulp before we get very far, but Oscar's still working on his when we turn the corner and almost trip on a little girl who's huddled in a pile on the curb, hugging her arms around her legs. She's filthy and tattered, like a doll thrown on a trash heap. I step around her to walk on, but Oscar stops. He presses the rest of his muffin into her little hands. She stares up at him, blinking like she's not sure he's real. He just smiles, straightens, and skips around her to catch up with me.
I smile down at him, feeling thankful for everything. In a battle of Oscar versus Matt, I'll place my bets on my little friend any day. I've been worried about Matt's influence, but this is Oscar. How could anyone change him?
We walk along until we're alone, then sit in the sunshine. "So... it's not so bad, then?" I say, still wanting the reassurance.
"Nah," Oscar says, shrugging. "Alayna feeds me every five seconds. She's really nice. So's Jess. I don't really see Matthew that much."
I'm glad to hear that. Glad that Matt has seen fit not to drag Oscar around with him, to have him there while he's doing business, which is generally not Oscar-appropriate. I put my arm around Oscar and squeeze, ignoring the ache in my ribs, leaning sideways into him. A smell like honey, or flowers, or both combined clings to him.
"Don't worry," he says, turning to look up at me. "I'm going to hang out with Matt more. I'm working up to it. He doesn't like me much."
I make myself laugh. "How is that possible?" I say, which earns me a small smile. "And no, don't hang out with him more. Just whatever you hear when he's around is fine."
He fixes me with a thoughtful look, considering. I don't like it. I can see the wheels turning.
"Why do you smell like perfume?" I ask, changing the subject. "Do I want to know?"
Oscar laughs and looks away. "It's Leeta," he says. "She's always hugging me." His cheeks have gone pink, now. I've embarrassed him.
I want to drop it, but I have to ask. "Is that... the uh... redhead?"
He shakes his head and says, matter-of-factly, "No, that's Kloe. She hugs me sometimes, too. But she's not as nice. Leeta's the blonde." He raises his sleeve to his nose and sniffs it. "It smells kinda good."
I'm not sure what to say to that, so I stay quiet.
After a while, Oscar says, "So, Matt's lost a lot of people. There have been all these little fights, and he keeps losing. I guess we didn't notice because it's all been outside the wall."
"Yeah?"
"We're always outnumbered, I guess. Matt kept sending bigger groups to go fight for the food transports whenever they were scheduled, but then, every time Grey would have a group like twice as big waiting for them. Like he knew what was coming. So now Matt has a lot less people, and he's thinking maybe it's just a bad idea to go out there at all."
I frown. "But... if he doesn't go out there... then he's just giving up. How are we going to get any food?"
Oscar shakes his head. "He thinks Grey wants to take over the Outpost. Like you know. Storm the castle and all that. So Matt wants to just focus on keeping the Outpost right now. He's starting to reinforce the walls. Adding weapons and stuff."
"To the walls?"
"Yeah."
I blink at Oscar, feeling queasy. "So..." I finally say, returning to my previous thought, "what about food?"
Again, Oscar shakes his head. "I'm not sure. It sounds like he's thinking about how to make the food we have here work. Without bringing anything in."
"Impossible." I say it before I even consider. The Outpost is sparse. There's little in the way of animals— maybe a handful in Matt's private pens. There's nowhere to grow anything. It's all busted concrete and hard-packed earth. And even if there was a place for crops, winter is swiftly approaching. Everything is dying. We're all dying.
Oscar purses his lips. "You don't think we could do it?" he finally asks in a quiet voice.
I shake my head. "No. Not feed this many people. There would have to be a lot less before we could sustain ourselves." I say it absently, without thinking, and then, the chill creeps slowly from the pit of my stomach into my neck. I wrap my arms around myself, trying to ward off the shiver. Is this Matt's plan? To hold out against Grey, let our population dwindle, and eventually be able to feed the handful of survivors? Or something worse? More immediate? I shouldn't have even allowed myself the last thought. I want to throw up. But I swallow hard and hold on to the contents of my stomach. I take a few deep breaths, then ask, "You learned all this from hanging around and listening?"
He shrugs. "Leeta told me some of it."
I nod, thinking about it quietly. Of course. Leeta's around Matt a lot. She probably knows a ton about what's really going on. She might even know what Matt's planning long-term. Oscar could ask her. No. No. If I want to know, I'll find out myself.
"So, what do we do?" asks Oscar, studying my face.
I shake my head. "Nothing," I say. "Just stay out of it, OK?"
He frowns.
I frown back. "Seriously," I say. "Just lay low. Don't blow your cover."
His frown moves sideways as he squints at me. Then, suddenly, he shrugs, grins, and hops up. "Let's go see Neveah."
He's already ten paces down the block by the time I climb to my feet.