Free Blood Red Road by Moira Young Page A

have his head an he’ll take you back to Mercy at Crosscreek. He knows his way home. An he’ll know where to find water. If Nudd drinks it, that means it’s safe fer you to drink. D’you unnerstand?
    Yes, she says.
    Good. Now promise me you’ll do what I say.
    She hesitates. I grab her hand, look straight into her eyes. Promise me on the life of Ma an Pa. When I tell you to go, you’ll go.
    I promise, she says.
    I fit a arrow to my crossbow. My heart bangs aginst my ribs, my knees shake, my breath comes shallow an fast.
    The landboat scuds along the plain towards us. It’s movin fast. There’s a person at the front. Leanin back, pullin hard on what looks to be a big wooden bar.
    I take aim.
    I can hear shoutin. As the boat races closer, I start to make out the words. Sail down! Let the sail down!
    Suddenly, the top bit of the patchwork sail rips away, snatched by the wind. The rest of it collapses to the deck in a big heap.
    The boat goes outta control. Anchor! yells the voice. Throw out the anchor!

    Somethin goes flyin offa the back attached to a long rope. A big chunk of metal. Looks like a big fish hook. It hits the ground an skips along behind, throwin up clouds of dust.
    But the boat keeps on comin. Look out! the voice screams. Take cover!
    There’s a terrible screech. One of the back tires comes free. It bounces high an goes spinnin off across the plain. The boat tips back an hits the ground with a almighty crack. It jackknifes. Skids this way, that way, shriekin an blowin dust all over the place.
    I’m still stood there, froze to the spot, my bow drawn.
    Saba! Emmi yells. What’re you doin?
    I grab Nudd’s rope an we dive outta the way. Nero flaps off in a panic.
    The boat scrapes to a stop, right where we was standin.
    There’s silence fer a moment. Then there’s a great groan an the boat tips forwards. Another silence. Then, I really must work on those emergency stops, says the voice.

    There’s a little old man. He’s clingin to the mast like a lizard on a stump.
    Don’t say a word, I whisper to Em. I’ll take care of this.
    Good day to you! he cries. I … er … let me just get my—
    He reaches into his coat.
    Don’t move! I yell. I run in front of the boat. I aim my bow right between his eyes. Hands up! I says.
    Wait! he says. We come in peace! We mean you no harm!
    Let go of that mast. I take two quick steps closer. Put yer hands up.
    I assure you! We have nothing worth taking, my fearsome friend!
    We? I says. Who else you got on there? Tell ’em to come out.
    Did I say we? I meant I. I! No one here but me! A slip of the tongue, an error under duress!
    I let fly with a arrow. It sticks in the mast jest above his head. He lets out a frightened squawk. Then he hollers, Miz Pinch! Miz Pinch!
    A head struggles out from the heap of sail. A woman.
    Emerge from your nest, my dove, he says. There’s … er … this delightful young lady would like to meet you.
    She might have gray hair, but she’s a rawboned giant, the woman who shoves the sail aside an stands up. She’s got a long head like a horse an pock-pitted skin, red an angry-lookin. She takes one look at me an says to him, Yer a idiot, Rooster.
    I said hands up! I says.
    They raise their hands above their heads. They gotta be the strangest pair I’ll ever see. He only jest comes to her waist. He’s got a fat round belly set on top of skinny little bird legs an he wears a cookin pot on his head fer a helmet. His tunic’s cobbled together from the kinda rubbish you’d find in a landfill—cloth, slippy bags, shimmer discs an what have you. There’s pieces of tire strapped around his knees.
    That it? I says. Jest the two of yuz?
    Yes! He bobs up an down, lookin like a silly quail. Yes, that’s it! Please—I beg of you, my dear—please don’t hurt us. You see, I have a weak heart and the slightest—
    It’s only a girl, you old fool! Miz Pinch kicks him in the ankle. Hard. He crumples in pain.
    Yes, my heart’s delight! he