The day's events had exhausted Leo, and the last thing he needed was having to deal with his stubborn mother.
"You've got to drink." He pushed the cup into his mother's hands, keeping his voice down because he didn't want to wake up Hope lying in her cot next to them. His daughter had coughed throughout last night, and now she was finally sleeping.
Sitting silently in her armchair, his mother didn't budge. Only her red-rimmed, rheumy eyes moved as they watched him. "I'm sorry 'bout Flora."
She had repeated that sentence again and again after he had reported the events on the highway.
His mother's relation to her daughter had been strained, ever since Flora had moved out of the apartment after one of their frequent shouting matches. But the news of her being wounded must have rattled her.
Still, his mother should drink. He didn't want to worry about her, too.
He was about to lift the cup to her lips when the sound of a door opening stopped him short.
The Gater woman, Beth, stood in the doorway, one hand on the handle, the other on the frame. Skinny legs stuck out from her short, dark skirt. Her shirt-thing had tiny holes in it, symmetric ones, as if placed there for some strange purpose. It was silly and useless, covering only part of her shoulders, and the exposed skin was raw from the fierce sun of the day.
Her gaze was on his mother and on Hope, and her mouth stood open.
Leo placed himself between his family and the intruder. "What is it? What do you want here?" She had no business in this room. No one had, except for his mother, him, Hope, and the memory of his wife.
He had told her to stay put. But, of course, a Gater wouldn't listen. They just did what they wanted and took what they wanted.
"I apologize," she finally said and held up her hands. "I was wondering if I could have some more water." She gestured at a table with the jar.
"Who is she?" His mother asked.
Relieved to hear her change the topic away from Flora, he gestured at the woman. "Her name's Beth."
"And what is she doing here?" His mother leaned forward and squinted at her.
"She's..." He hesitated, but then he decided to tell his mother the truth even though it might upset her. She never failed to pick up his lies. "She's one of the Gaters we caught today."
"A Gater, you say?" She looked at Beth with renewed interest. "Was she the one who..." She swallowed. "The one who shot Flora?"
"No, I told you the killer's dead," Leo said. "Hawk and Bolt put some arrows into him."
She squinted at Beth. "Come closer."
The Gater stepped into the room.
"I'm Grace," she said.
"My name is Beth, madam."
"Madam?" Grace snickered. "You are a Gater."
Beth shrugged. "I live at Seaside. But I suppose a Gater is what you would call me."
Grace nodded. "Yes, Gaters. The people from the gated communities, those who tried to escape the downfall, the chaos. But..." She gestured at Beth. "But you did save some beauty, there." She pointed a shaking finger at Beth. "I like this dress of yours. People wore such clothes back when I was a child." A smile flickered across her face, and she turned her gaze on Leo. "Give her some water. Haven't you heard, she's thirsty."
Feeling silly and scolded, Leo handed Beth the cup he had tried to give to his mother. The woman took it and drank eagerly.
"I'm sorry 'bout Flora." Grace stared at the floor now.
Beth looked at her, keeping the cup at her mouth even though she probably had emptied it by now. "I'm sorry, too." Her gaze moved on to Hope's cot.
Leo didn't like the Gater to be in here. She was the enemy.
"Is this your child?" Beth asked and smiled at the baby.
That was none of her business.
"Yes, she's his," Leo's mother said before he could throw the intruder out of the room. "Her name's Hope."
Beth stepped closer to the cot.
Leo grabbed her arm. "Don't wake her up," he whispered.
He wouldn't let that woman touch Hope. "Come, I'll take you back now." He pushed her towards the door.
She looked at his mother. "It has been a pleasure to meet you, Grace."
"I'm sorry 'bout Flora." She didn't look at Beth.
"I'll be back in a minute, ma." He shoved Beth from the room and closed the door behind him.
"Your daughter is lovely," she said.
"Yeah, but that ain't nothing to you." He grabbed the rope on the table. "I told you to stay put. Do I have to bind you, or will you behave?"
"I will be as meek as a lamb." She raised her head and stood erect, looking like an old photograph with that knotted hair of hers.
"What's a lamb?"
"A young sheep."
Leo frowned.
"Sheep are animals," she said. "They are domestic and about that high." She held her hand at the height of her belly. "They give wool and meat."
"We've got goats, don't need no lambs."
Who cared about these sheep, they were creatures from the past.
"Let's go," Leo said. "But before that, make your hair... normal."
It wouldn't do if he took her back to the others with her looking like a queen. They needed to believe he had had his way with her.
"Normal?"
"Yeah." He gestured at her head. "Unknot it, or whatever you do, to make it go down."
"Don't you fancy my hairdo, sir?"
"It's..." He wondered if she was being difficult on purpose. "You should look more... ragged when we join the others. As if you've been... you know what I mean."
She opened her mouth as if readying more of her gibberish talk, but then she closed it again and reached behind her head.
She tugged at it and retrieved a piece of string like a worm hidden in a crow's nest. In response, her strands unraveled.
A shake of her head loosened the hair completely. It was a light brown, with a tinge like metal or ash where light was reflected from it, and it fell in waves, resting against the burnt skin of her shoulders.
"You've got a sunburn." Leo struggled for words. "You shouldn't wear stuff like that. You need something that protects you."
He went to his wardrobe, got one of his shirts, and held it out to her. "Here, wear this."
She stared at the garment, saying nothing.
"Go on, wear it. It will make you look like you're mine."
"I'm not yours." The words were cold and slow.
Leo closed the wardrobe's door with a bang. "Do you want someone else to claim you?"
His snarl drove her back against the table.
"Take it or leave it." He shoved the shirt into her hands.
She chewed her lips, turning the shirt over in her hands. Then she slipped into it without looking at Leo.
"Now come." He unlocked the exit door, ushered her through it, and followed.
On the other side, they walked the corridor in silence, returned to the stands, and descended the stairs.
Herb, the guard, stood outside Hammer's house, looking up at them, a leer visible through the grid of the helmet. "So, how was it?" He held his bat at crotch level, pointing it up.
"That's none of your business, Herb." Leo pointed his finger at him. "She's none of your business."
Even though Herb wasn't the smartest member of their gang, he was bound to spread any gossip.
"Aye, boss." The guard lowered his bat to the ground.
"Where's Hammer?"
Herb pointed his thumb at the house behind him. "Inside."
"Fine. Tell him she's mine. I'll take her to the locker room now. And, has Doc Faith arrived yet?"
"Naw, I've seen neither Faith nor Spike."
"Okay, after I lock her in, I'll check on Flora. And if Spike hasn't returned by then, I'll go looking for the doc myself."
Herb nodded. "Aye, sir."
Turning his back on him, Leo pushed Beth along the tiers towards the tunnel.
He waited until they were out of earshot. "If you want to keep them away from your cunt, tell them you're with me."
She looked back at him. "Oh, what gallantry in a dreary place."
Spike was right. She was full of fancy speech.
That might be handy, though.
"Hey," he said. "Can you write?"
"Of course, I can. Do you need someone to teach you?"
"Nope. But you'll have to write a letter to your folks."