Firebrand by Antony John Page A

twisting them and saving the chickens for one more day. “I’d like you and your friends to form a food-gathering group. Sumter’s resources aren’t enough to provide for everyone.”
    â€œWe’ll do whatever you need,” I assured him.
    â€œI know you will.” He moved the tool from his right hand to his left and flexed his fingers. The joints were red and swollen. “I’ve seen so many people die since the Plague started, Thomas. And with every death, I remind myself that here was a person who trusted me. It never gets easier, and I can never reason my way out of it. I’d like to tell you that you’ll get over what you’re feeling now, but you won’t. Not really. You’ll be reminded of it every time you look at Alice and her mother. Just as I’m reminded of death every time I look at Jerren and Nyla.”
    â€œHow so?”
    He stared at the outline of Charleston, a few miles to the west. “They came here four years ago. Beautiful children. Hard workers too. And their parents were the best of any of us. But they contracted the Plague during a trip to one of the harbor islands.”
    I surveyed the harbor and wondered which of the thin strips of land it had been. “If there were rats, what were they doing there?”
    He handed the tool back to me. “Gathering food,” he said matter-of-factly. “Just as you will be tomorrow.” He paused to let the words sink in. “There’s a reason we call them suicide squads.”

CHAPTER 14
    I stayed on the peninsula for most of the afternoon. It was hot, hard work, but Chief brought me food and a canister of water to drink. I’d have kept going even if he hadn’t. All my life, I’d been told to leave the most important jobs to others. Now a relative stranger was leaving the fate of the colony’s chickens in my hands.
    With each passing strike, the tide fell. It uncovered more of the peninsula, mud flats that stretched a hundred yards to the south. Gulls pursued the receding waterline, eyes and beaks fixed on the turbulent water, and the fish caught in it.
    â€œCan rats cross from over there?” I asked, pointing to the land beyond the mud flats.
    â€œIn theory, yes,” said Chief, taking a break. “But that land you’re seeing is tidal. Spider Island, it’s called. Mostly it’s marshland. Only way rats are crossing from there is if they plan the whole thing out.”
    I chuckled. “So we’ll be fine, is what you’re saying.”
    â€œNo.” Chief wasn’t laughing. “Actually, I think it’s inevitable they’ll cross one day.”
    â€œBut you said—”
    â€œI know what I said.” He fixed me with his eyes. “Times are changing, Thomas. Eighteen years ago, rats were as misunderstood as any native rodent. They were shy. They lived in human cities, but hid in sewers so they wouldn’t be disturbed. But they needed humans in those cities. Needed food waste in order to survive. They’re desperate now. And like any animal driven to desperation, they’re overcoming their instinct to hide. It’s not difficult to see where this is all heading.”
    The tide was turning. I could tell by the way the gulls began to backtrack, one step at a time.
    â€œWhat will you do to stop the rats?” I asked.
    Chief was watching the gulls too, perhaps making mental calculations about the width of the channel that kept us apart from Spider Island. “I’ll stand on this exact spot at every low tide, just as we’re doing now. And the day they cross, I’ll do whatever I need to.”
    Chief turned to face me again. He looked as though he was prepared to say more, but then his eyes drifted past me. He wore a confused expression.
    I looked too. Griffin was hurrying toward me. The ground wasn’t entirely even, and his limp was pronounced.
Come,
he signed, before he even reached