Pale Runs the Ghost

The diaspora had gone more smoothly than anyone in town had thought it would. Thomas had moved up from the south to take care of his aunt, taking Ryllis along as the girl had nothing else to do by herself, and fortunately old and ailing Miss Heloise had died a week before the troops came in and turned everybody out. She was the last from that whole area to have a decent funeral for over a year.

"I suppose you could've just joined the army," Ryllis commented as she packed her bags with an airy carelessness. "We might've gotten a horse or something."

"Wonderful idea, dear," Thomas said dryly, running a hand through his thick wavy hair as he surveyed their small concrete flat. It was stripped bare, paint peeling off the walls.

"Any idea where we're going?"

"There's some refugee camp further north, I've heard tell," Thomas replied, pulling his coat on and buttoning it. "I suppose that's where most around here are going."

"You think Larissa and Janos are?"

"Run by and find out. I suppose we can go with them."

Ryllis flitted down the stairs.

--

The caravan of grey-coloured people moved with a slow deliberation through the dirt fields. It was chilly, but the sun was obnoxiously bright and cheerful, even patronizing. Ryllis ambled along, holding Thomas' hand loosely.

"So do you know what this place is like?" she asked Larissa.

"No, but two of my cousins are already there," Larissa replied, pulling her bright yellow hair into a loose bun. "It's forty miles off, so I think the army's still going to control it sooner or later. Aren't you better off going home?"

"What's at home?" Ryllis asked. "We don't really have one anymore. Besides, that's much further away than forty miles. We haven't a way to get back."

"Oh," Larissa said hollowly. "Well, you should try."

"Glad of your company too, Larissa."

"It's just safer, Amaryllis!" the older girl replied in a huff. "There isn't a war going on where you're from, is there?"

"It'll get itself entangled soon enough," Thomas commented. Both girls looked up at him. He blinked. "What? Everyone will."

"That's no good," Larissa murmured. "Unless someone stops this."

"It's far from over," Thomas nodded, and adjusted the duffel bag he was carrying.

--

When they camped out that night and several nights afterwards, the group of a hundred people (the other half had emigrated elsewhere, although who would be better off remained to be seen) huddled together in a constricting fear, wondering if they were going to be followed and have worse things happen to them than getting forced out of their homes. In retrospect, the dispersion was of little incident- all had been expecting it for what seemed like ages and when it happened, it was like a breath of fresh air to finally know what was going on. But the uncertainty settled in again.

Ryllis, typically nonchalant about everything a sensible person would be fretting over, stretched out on the ground and looked up at the dull stars.

"Is there room for everybody, where we're going?"

"There'd better be," Thomas muttered grumpily, finding a half loaf of bread in his pack and breaking it up for their small group. Janos, skinny and antsy, devoured his share.

"Janos, calm down!" Larissa hissed at him. Janos frowned and retreated, wandering eyes nervous.

It rained that night, and everyone was soaked through and shivering and coughing for days.

--

The camp was situated on a barren, flat expanse of dirt; small trees were scattered off to the east, a stream running through them. Dozens of wooden shacks with tin roofs slightly slanted forward were arranged in generally neat rows, pressed together as if in comfort. A larger building of concrete, probably for whatever administration the place purported to have, commanded the far north portion of the camp at the end of a main street of sorts. This path was could've fit two cars across if any automobiles existed for such poor people; the other alleyways were big enough for two people to stumble against each other as they walked along. Pipes with their tops cut away were laid in long disjointed lines in front of the houses to deposit run-off from the roofs somewhere other than the streets. Smoke from cheap chimneys rose in some houses.

The camp's inhabitants came outside, looking intrigued and homely. Some ran forward to find their relatives and a general clumping of bodies ensued; Ryllis and Thomas watched as Larissa's two sturdy looking cousins came to greet her and Janos, then looked about.

A better-dressed group came forward and started taking names after the incoming migrants without relatives had been jostled into some sort of order. After about twenty minutes Ryllis and Thomas were approached by a cheerful looking young man with black corkscrew curls and a clipboard.

"Names?"

"Thomas Calloway and Amaryllis Lancaster," Thomas offered. "Is there really enough room for everybody here?"

"Sure, there's only about fifty people here now," the man nodded. "I'm Darcy Bellecourt, by the by. I think there's a place in the High Street that was just vacated that you can have. Come with me."

The couple followed obediently, sliding past others in the same ragtag state.

"Where are you from?" Darcy asked pleasantly.

"Way down south," Ryllis said shyly. "Not from here. We were living with Thomas' aunt, but she's dead now. The town got turned out so we're all here. Is the army going to come here too?"

"We're already controlled by the army, they're the ones feeding us," Darcy said. "Well, ah, not the one that turned you out, obviously, so I suppose we'll get invaded one of these days by them when everybody gets into a particularly big fight. But until then..."

He stopped at one of the small structures and opened the door, stepping aside so that they could observe it.

Ryllis peeked inside the dilapidated shack with a morbid curiosity, straining her eyes in the dull light as she clung to the doorframe. It was reasonably outfitted and dirty, well-used by its previous occupant: on the left, an old cast-iron clinker of a stove still ashy from its most recent use, flanked by wooden boxes and a small rickity table with small rickity chairs; on the right, an iron frame bed with a lumpy double mattress stripped bare of its coverings. A few kerosene lamps were jumbled together on the table and, except for a couple of wooden buckets, there was nothing else but a matching set of high dusty windows on either side of the door.

Ryllis turned slowly and regarded her two companions with expectant eyes.

"Shall we clean up, then?" she asked innocently.

As Thomas did not see fit to fashion a response, Darcy replied,

"You're that thrilled, eh?"

Ryllis shrugged and stepped inside to rummage through all the boxes. "Is the mattress clean?"

"Might want to take it out for a beat," Darcy suggested, clapping Thomas on the back. "I'll see what I can do about bedding."

He paused for a moment before sauntering off. "You're bloody lucky, you know, just the two of you in there. Some've got upwards of eight in the same spot." He shrugged.

"Bloody hell," Thomas commented, before pulling the mattress off the bed. It was damp with the fog and sick. He looked displeased.

--

That evening, after snacking on some of the food Thomas had brought, Ryllis stripped to her slip and crawled into bed, under the medley of covers that Darcy had found for them. Thomas sat at the table, looking tired and worn already.

"Sad, Tommy?"

"How long do you think we'll be here?" he asked glumly.

"Longer than you'll like, I'm sure, but don't fret about it. Come here and go to sleep."

She smiled at him so widely that Thomas sighed and grinned back and pulled his shoes off.

"Is there any work for you?" Ryllis continued, as Thomas sat on the bed.

"Little projects, Darcy said. The army comes by occasionally and drags us around the countryside, apparently."

"Oh," Ryllis replied, and pulled Thomas down with her, nuzzling his neck. "Well, you be bothered about that tomorrow."

"Why are you so... not upset about this?"

"Why are you so upset? Could be worse," Ryllis shrugged. "Just go with it, Tommy."

Thomas sighed.

--

They got adjusted to the camp so quickly that after two weeks Ryllis, who never changed, forgot what life was like before they had stumbled into Austrarcene and went about her daily life very cheerfully. Not having anyone else to care for, there was little to do: she cleaned the shack up and found relief clothes for the coming winter weather, and lined up at the administrative building at the end of the week for the rations that came in on the trucks. It was potatoes and bread weekly, food-making items such as flour and sugar bi-weekly, and any other accoutrements at the end of the month, Darcy had told them. Meat sometimes came then. This was the most exciting time for the camp, as it was the time that the blackmarket thrived, and the army was more than happy to provide not only the refugees' jobs but their small luxuries as well.

Ryllis was happily rag-tag: in a combination of her own clothes and some relief ones, she was dressed in a low turtleneck, a mulberry wool skirt, tights, knee-highs and old boots, and a blue cardigan that was two sizes too large for her. She frequently wore an old flower-print apron as well and was pleased with her appearance.

Thomas has not taken anything but a new-to-him pair of boots and an overcoat. He was surly about the whole business.

The weather greyed quickly and Austrarcene was overcast with a gentle, sickening fog that rose up in streams from its inhabitants' wool coats, playfully touching the roof and tree tops and clouding the weak sun like a ghostly mask, anticipating the winter.

Darcy often came by for a cup of tea and a chat, as Ryllis had taken a quick liking to the pragmatic boy and Thomas didn't mind him all that much. Their only other frequent visitors were Larissa and Janos, the latter of which was better company for silent card games rather than intellectual conversation or news.

A knock came and Ryllis, who had been sitting by the fire with some ragged knitting, leaned over and opened the door. Darcy was standing outside in the chill, bundled up in a padded jacket.

"Hey there, mind if I come in?"

"Not at all," Ryllis replied, and went to get another teacup. Thomas, who was sitting on the bed against the wall, glanced up from his notebook.

"Have any news?" he asked.

"That army that chased you out- Esca- they're coming to ransack Brookmount, I've heard," Darcy replied, sitting at the table and accepting the proffered cuppa. "That's what, a half hour drive from here? We're going to clean up the mess, you know, make a little profit, help some people."

"In that order, naturally," Ryllis smiled.

"Oh, well, it's still our folks over there. Our army works through that town to feed us and whatnot. Be a shame to lose it."

"Then why isn't Plummoor fighting them?" Thomas asked.

"They are! No worries there. Be a real bit of aggro, though. I don't know who's going to take the place in the end. We'll see if we can get people out first, but they like to put up a fight, and we just found out Esca's coming, so."

"You're awfully unconcerned," Thomas noted.

Darcy shrugged. "Can't be helped. Want to go have a butchers, then?"

"Alright," Thomas said. This turned out to be one of his poorer decisions, but in a good way.