Razor Mountain is a serial novel, with new parts published every week or two. For more info, visit the Razor Mountain landing page.
As the day progressed, Christopher realized that all of his conversations would be like this. Some of these people seemed leery or even a little afraid of him. Others overcame it enough to talk with him, but the conversations were all short and focused on what he could tell them about the outside world. They avoided answering his questions.
There were more people than he had initially realized. He guessed that there might be as many as fifty of them. They all wore the same uniform, but there were no markings to tell him what branch of the service they might belong to.
They didn’t have a lot to do, either. Christopher saw a few people preparing food, and a few others cleaning the inhabited areas. He saw one man sitting cross-legged on a cot, reading a very dirty and tattered little paperback. Everyone else was talking, or playing cards, or sleeping.
The man named Garrett worried Christopher. He clearly thought that Christopher was a problem, and while he didn’t exactly follow Christopher around, he kept turning up in whatever room Christopher happened to be in. Whenever Christopher looked at him, he was staring. He made no effort to hide it.
When evening came, Amaranth eventually led Christopher to a small room with a single cot.
This is your room.
“All by myself, huh?”
They don’t exactly trust you. You’re not dumb, you see that, right?
“Yeah, I noticed.”
In truth, a room of his own didn’t sound too bad. He felt exhausted from all the interaction. He had spent weeks completely alone, talking to himself. He had rehashed memories of conversations from years ago, and thought through all the things he might say to family and friends when he got back home. Now that he had real people to talk to, the effort of it drained him. It didn’t help that every conversation felt like a confrontation.
“Is it just me, or does Garrett really dislike me?”
Amaranth smiled and let out a half-cough, half-sigh of laughter. Christopher suddenly wondered what injury had stolen her voice. She flipped a page and wrote for quite a while in her book.
Garrett is an idiot. He decided to come with us, and now he regrets it. But he doesn’t have enough brainpower to do any introspection, so he just takes it out on everyone else.
“And I’m the new punching bag?”
I think everyone was hoping you’d know some things that you don’t know.
“Yeah, I feel the same way. I had this idea that if I found people, that would solve all my problems. I’d be on my way back home within hours. Now I’m surrounded by people, and I know even less about what’s going on.”
“If I ask you some questions, will you answer? Or are all of you under orders not to tell me anything?”
No orders. They’re just scared and confused. I’ll answer if I can.
“Okay. Are you all in the military?”
No, but most are.
“So, this place, Razor Mountain, is like an Army base?”
Army base and a city.
“Am I a prisoner?”
No. But I don’t think you can leave.
“How is that any different.”
I guess it isn’t.
“You said they’re scared and confused. What is everyone scared about?”
They’re scared that we’ll get caught.
Christopher thought about this.
“You’re not supposed to be here. They asked me about the plane, about the ‘outside world.’ You’re all trying to get out of here too?”
I’m not. Everyone else is.
“Why not you?”
I like being out here. I like living out in the woods. I can take care of myself.
“You’d just live in the forest?”
“I don’t know. It seems hard. And lonely.”
I don’t mind being alone. And I’m good at living in the woods. My dad taught me. I hunt. I fish. I know the plants.
“Wouldn’t you miss anyone?”
Everyone I’d miss is already dead.
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
It’s fine. It was years ago.
“So why are you here instead of out in the woods?”
I’m trying to help them. I like to be alone, but I’m not going to just ignore people who need help.
“I appreciate that,” Christopher said. “You probably saved my life.”
She shrugged again. They sat in silence for a minute.
“Look, maybe you won’t want to answer, but why are they afraid they’ll get caught? Why did they run away? Is it like treason, or desertion or whatever?”
Desertion. They didn’t think they were being told the truth. They stopped trusting the leadership. But all information comes down from them.
“You don’t have TV or radio? Newspaper? Anything?”
Everything gets vetted by command first.
“What about people coming in from other places?”
“Wait, people must get transferred in and out.”
That’s not how Razor Mountain works.
“So nobody comes or goes and you don’t get any information about the outside world?”
Only through command. A lot of people don’t trust it.
“How can they do that? You can’t just keep people there indefinitely. Even if they’re in the Army, their contracts must end eventually.”
She flipped back a page and tapped the words she had already written.
That’s not how Razor Mountain works.
“And all these people decided to become deserters and leave? Without a plan to actually get to a town or something?”
Ema was working on a plan, but command found out. They had to leave before they were ready. Or probably face a court-martial.
“And now people like Garrett are thinking the court-martial might have been the better choice?”
Maybe. Maybe he’s just a whiner.
Christopher sat on his cot, back against the wall, and tried to process. Amaranth took out a pocket knife and a chunk of wood that had already been partly whittled. The carving vaguely resembled a person.
“You were the one leaving carvings in the woods?”
She flicked a few shavings off the piece before picking up the notebook and pen.
Just something to do. Decorating my space, I guess.
“Do you know how creepy it is to find something like that out in the woods, when you think you’re alone?”
They sat for a while. The small sounds of knife on wood were peaceful. A pile of shavings started to accumulate on the floor.
“What about me?” Christopher asked. “They shot at me. But I’m not a soldier. I haven’t deserted. If I got into Razor Mountain, would I be a prisoner there too? Would your people let me go?”
Amaranth pressed the knife against a knot in the wood. There was a small ping, and a little piece went sailing across the room to bounce off the far wall. She picked up the notebook.
They won’t want you to go. They don’t want you telling command where to find them.
“What if I promise not to say anything?”
That’s not a promise you can make.
What if they say you don’t get to go home unless you talk.
There are plenty of worse things they could do, too.
Christopher took a deep breath.
“So I’m screwed.”
If we find a way to get out, you can go with them.
“Yeah, but you said there was no plan. I don’t know where we are. We could be hundreds of miles from the nearest town.”
Amaranth closed her book.
“Done talking then?”
She tilted her head toward the door. A man was standing there, the same man who had stood guard when Christopher was waiting for his interview with Ema.
“I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced,” he said. “My name is Harold.”
He held out a hand, and Christopher stood to shake it. Amaranth stood as well.
“Am I under lockdown again?” Christopher asked.
“Sorry,” Harold said. “I know it’s unpleasant. People just need some reassurance.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Christopher said.
Amaranth headed toward the door.
“Talk more tomorrow?” Christopher asked.
She nodded without turning, and raised a hand in a half-wave goodbye.
“If you’d prefer, I could stay outside the room,” Harold said.
“Makes no difference to me,” Christopher replied.
There was a muffled voice from the hall, and Harold stepped out, returning with a second cot. He set it down next to the door.
Christopher considered asking Harold more questions, maybe seeing if he had different answers than Amaranth. However, he already felt overwhelmed, and he decided it would be better to try tomorrow. Maybe, given some time, these people could start to trust him. Maybe they’d figure out how to get to the nearest town. After all, with a whole group working together, they ought to have a much better chance than Christopher all by himself.
Still, no matter how much he tried to convince himself otherwise, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he would have been better off alone in the woods.