To the editor of the Savannah Morning News. This letter is in response to your editorial of February 1, 1876, entitled “The Women of the South Have No Need of Self-Defense Arts.” In your article you state that the nearly thirteen years since the Undead Rising at the tragic Battle of Gettysburg have led to unprecedented stability and that the Northern system of engaging Negro girl Attendants as protectors should be adopted here in the South. You go on to say that to encourage womenfolk to take up the defense arts would only lead to destabilized families and an increase in spinsters. This, sir, is wrong.
You have neglected fundamental aspects of the system. Many unfortunate families cannot afford to contract Attendants for their daughters. What of these poor girls, endangered by their poverty? Shall we let them be devoured by the undead? And how can the women of the South depend on Negroes to keep us safe? We are not Northerners. We know better the childlike temperament of the colored. Every Southerner knows that Negroes do not have the capacity to reasonably protect themselves or anyone else. . . .
Louisa Aiken, 1876
It was five miles into the city proper from Landsfall, the Aiken family plantation, and Louisa felt every single one of them drag by as she sat in the rider’s compartment of the pony with her mother.
Once, they would’ve traveled to town in a finely appointed carriage, with coachmen and a matched set of four horses. But that was before the restless dead stalked the woods and flatlands, hungry for flesh. Horses were a beacon for the undead creatures and rarely survived the encounter, so instead people traveled in ponies, carriages pulled along by a smoke-belching, steam-powered engine compartment. In the winter, Louisa loved traveling in the pony, when the rider’s compartment wasn’t nearly so stuffy and insufferable from the Georgia heat. But today her mother generated enough hot air that even August would’ve been hard-pressed to compete.
“Mrs. Helmsley told me that Bradley Winterbrook has already come to call on Rebecca three times. Three! She’ll be matched by the end of March, mark my words. Why, I’m sure if you’d just declare your intent for Ashley Ellis, he would’ve come to call and you’d have a betrothal by now.”
Louisa schooled her expression to blankness. Mrs. Aiken had been the most beautiful debutante in her year, way back in 1856, her blond curls and blue eyes and perfect pearlescent skin peerless throughout the Low Country. Now the bloom of her youth and her beauty had faded into something dull and unbelievably sad, like an overblown rose with only a few petals clinging. Louisa shared her mother’s looks, a fact her mother frequently brought up whenever Louisa wore a color her mother deemed “unflattering.”
At seventeen, Louisa knew her own mind well enough, and her mother’s criticisms always put her in a bit of a snit. The only reason Louisa had agreed to accompany her mother into town was the letter to the editor of the local newspaper tucked into her bodice, a letter that Louisa needed to post without her mother’s knowledge.
Louisa pulled her attention back to the conversation within the pony. “Mother, the Ellis family’s property is nothing but salt marsh. I do not want to live on a salt marsh.” It was easier than pointing out the fact that Ashley Ellis had buckteeth and was overfond of groping the servant girls. The last thing she wanted was a husband who was going to put a babe in every colored girl he met.
“Well, what about Everett Hayes? He danced with you twice at the Christmas Cotillion. And he has called on your father about courting you.”
“He has?” Louisa fell silent as she thought about Everett. He was the most eligible bachelor in all of Chatham County, and handsome to boot. A few years older than Louisa, he had dark wavy hair, blue eyes, and pale skin that bore the kiss of sunshine. He hadn’t just danced twice with her. He’d asked her to step outside with him for a glass of punch, and while they’d been alone he’d told her she was the most beautiful girl at the entire cotillion. The admiration in his eyes had made her heart grow wings.
He hadn’t kissed her, of course. That would’ve been entirely too forward. Even if she was reasonably sure she would have kissed him back.
That being said, his attentions hadn’t stopped him from dancing with Sophie Parker, a fact that Louisa had been trying to forget even as she nurtured a secret hope that she would see Everett again. It was understandable that she hadn’t, though. Travel was dangerous, and as the only son of a shipping magnate, Everett’s family preferred he stay inside the safety of the city walls. Those in the city rarely traveled outside of them for fear of the undead.
The pony came to a screeching halt. Louisa fumbled for a handle while her mother yelped in dismay. “Why are we stopping?”
The window between the driver’s compartment and the passenger area slid open. A dark face appeared in the space. Herman, the family coachman. “There’s a pack of shamblers in the road, ma’am. I’m waiting for them to clear.”
“Well, can’t you just ram them?” Mrs. Aiken demanded, a quaver in her voice. The undead were a reminder of the trials and travails of the war and the failed attempt at secession. Neither was a subject Louisa’s mother liked to think about. The war years had been hard on their family, leaving Mrs. Aiken’s brother Louis, for whom Louisa was named, a feral, mindless monster.
Herman shook his head. “There’s too many, I’m like to get the wheels mucked up with shambler if I do. Sorry, Miss Alicia. If we’re lucky they’ll wander off.” He slid the window closed, effectively ending the conversation.
Mrs. Aiken flushed and began adjusting the button closures on her gloves. “These damned undead,” she swore as she slammed back in her seat. Louisa bit back a smile. On any other occasion her mother would’ve corrected the help, told them forcefully what to do. But not when the restless dead were involved.
Louisa scooted closer to the tiny window to get a glimpse of the figures moving just beyond the bars. Louisa could see movement, but it was too far off to discern whether she’d known them or not. It was always quite a scandal when a family got turned. Some part of Louisa secretly hoped she’d see dark-haired Sophie Parker out there, dragging along in her familiar emerald green.
There were a few far-off pops, and the window to the driver’s compartment slid open once more. “Looks like the patrol is clearing them out, ma’am. We should be moving in a bit.”
“There are Federal troops out there?” Louisa asked.
“No, Miss Louisa, it’s the Negro patrol. Well, here we go.” The carriage lurched, and they were on their way once more.
Louisa sat back in her seat and grimaced. Negro patrols. No wonder they had had to wait so long. Federal troops would’ve made sure that the undead never made it to the main road to begin with. But the Federal troops were gone, headed back north thanks to President Rutherford B. Hayes and his Corrupt Bargain.
“This is why you need an Attendant, Louisa,” Mrs. Aiken said, fidgeting in her seat. “We both need Attendants. I’ve heard no self-respecting woman in New York leaves her house without her Attendant. Can you imagine, your own Negro girl to protect you? I’m not sure why the fashion hasn’t caught on here. We have more than enough Negroes milling about, shiftless as all get-out.”
Louisa’s lips twisted, but she said nothing. She shifted in her seat, the letter containing her thoughts crinkling as she moved.
A Negro girl to keep her safe from the undead.
Not if she had any say in the matter.
By the time they pulled into Ellis Square, Louisa was ready to be finished with the whole day, and her mother besides. After a quick stop at the health inspector’s to show that they were healthy and untouched by the Undead Plague, the carriage was admitted through the city gate. As soon as the pony stopped, Louisa hurried out as quickly as she could without looking unladylike, which wasn’t nearly as fast as she would’ve liked.
“Louisa, where are you going?” her mother called as Louisa headed down the sidewalk to the post box. Louisa ignored her.
“Louisa!” Mrs. Aiken shrieked, several feet to the rear and not at all ladylike.
Louisa turned toward her mother’s call without slowing her pace, which was a mistake. One that sent her hurtling headlong into the arms of Everett Hayes.
“Miss Aiken,” he said in surprise, his voice rumbling delightfully as he caught her. A spate of goose bumps sprang up under the sleeves of Louisa’s dress, emanating from his hands on her arms, and her breath floundered.
“Mr. Hayes. I am so sorry. Please forgive my clumsiness.”
“Already done,” he said with a smile, and Louisa’s mouth went hopelessly dry. The Hayes family owned a shipping business, and Everett was a skilled sailor in addition to being a gentleman. He certainly seemed steady on his feet as he gently helped Louisa regain her balance.
“Louisa! You mustn’t go rushing off like that—Mr. Hayes! How lovely to see you here in the square.”
Louisa stepped back, putting some distance between her pounding heart and Everett’s gentle smile. He tipped his hat at Louisa’s mother, even though his eyes were still on Louisa.
“It’s a welcome surprise,” he said.
“What are you about, Mr. Hayes?” Louisa asked, regaining her composure.
“Well, a couple of the boys down at the shipyard got bit and had to be put down, sad to say. So I’m heading over to the market to hire some help.”
The market in Ellis Square was well known throughout Georgia. When Louisa was very little, Daddy had taken her to see the Negroes brought in for sale. She didn’t remember much about the trip except for the dark faces, their expressions stoic, and the sugar candy her daddy had bought her for being a good girl. But that was long ago, before the War of Northern Aggression and the dead walking, before a single bite could turn a man feral.
Negroes were no longer sold in the market. The Great Concession had ended both slavery and the Confederacy, in exchange for the assistance of Federal troops. So now the market was the place to hire extra help, both colored and white. It was said by some that the labor contracts offered to the whites looking for work were better than the wages offered Negroes, but everyone knew that Negroes were naturally inferior, so no one who mattered made much of a fuss.
Mrs. Aiken smiled and clapped her hands together. “Well, isn’t this a happy coincidence. Louisa and I were headed there as well. Perhaps you’d be so kind as to accompany us?” A calculating look gleamed in her mother’s eye.
Louisa’s mother was scheming.
Mr. Hayes gave them a smooth bow. “It would be my pleasure, Mrs. Aiken.”
Everett held out an arm to each of the ladies and they took them, the trio gliding across the square to a low-slung building with a fresh coat of paint. Mrs. Aiken kept up a lively chatter about the weather while Louisa fumed. She’d been ensnared in one of her mother’s plots.
It was a short stroll to the market. Employment agents called out to passersby looking to hire help, creating a cacophony of sound.
“You need a cook? Then you must taste the preparations of Miss Jessie, best cook in the city!”
“Strong men! You need them, and aye! I’ve got them.”
“Don’t go anywhere, fine ladies, without an Attendant to see to your safety! Gentlemen, don’t you want your womenfolk protected? A faithful Attendant is the thing for you! And here they are, from the finest school in all the states, Miss Preston’s School of Combat for Negro Girls, in Baltimore, Maryland!”
Mrs. Aiken stopped suddenly in front of a platform, bringing Everett and Louisa to a halt as well. A short man with a florid face and a frayed stovepipe hat stood in the street, imploring passersby to look at the girls on the platform, to see their prowess and loyalty. The girls didn’t look any different than the other Negro girls Louisa had seen, except for the fact that they wore incredibly sharp-looking knives and swords strapped to their bodies. Their eyes were hooded, their hair braided tight to their scalp, and they radiated an air of supreme disinterest in the whole of the goings-on in the square.
“Good sir,” Mrs. Aiken called to the small man. “Your girls, they are Attendants?”
The man scuttled over, a wide smile on his face. “Oh, yes’m. Best in all of Georgia, my girls are. More dead have been harvested by these girls than all of the Federal patrols combined! And a fair price too. For one hundred dollars, you can employ one of my girls for a six-month contract.”
“A hundred dollars!” Mrs. Aiken exclaimed, her gloved hands fluttering to her face like startled doves. “What exactly does one get for a hundred dollars?” she asked, trying to cover her shock.
“Why, protection, ma’am. What is that worth in these dark times?”
Mrs. Aiken and the small man went back and forth for a moment, but Louisa tuned them out. She was studying the girls, and her gaze was drawn toward one in the back. She didn’t wear a dress over pantalets like most of the other Attendants on the platform. Instead, she was dressed like a man: trousers, shirt, waistcoat in a jaunty blue paisley pattern. She wore a belt, low slung on her hips, that looked as though it should carry revolvers but instead carried a pair of short swords, their edges glinting wickedly sharp in the sunlight. The girl’s hair was braided in even rows, the braids ending at her shoulder blades.
Louisa’s eyes met those of the girl. She tilted her head to the side, openly appraising Louisa. Louisa blinked, taken aback slightly at the colored girl’s naked assessment, and when the dark-skinned girl grinned and winked, Louisa gasped audibly, loud enough to distract her mother from her conversation.
“Louisa, what is it, dear?”
“Nothing, Mother.”
Louisa busied herself adjusting the ties on her coat to cover the heat rushing to her cheeks. What an impudent Negro! No wonder they were hard-pressed to secure employment.
“Personally, I think the idea of Attendants is a good one,” Everett interjected, interrupting whatever Louisa’s mother had been saying to the barker. “There is nothing quite so important as the safety and security of our womenfolk. Especially our most precious blossoms.” He looked straight at Louisa as he said this, and she felt herself flush again.
Everett cleared his throat and turned back to the small man. “Which is why I’m going to give Miss Aiken the gift of an Attendant.”
Shock radiated through Louisa’s body. “Mr. Hayes . . . ,” she said, trailing off. Words failed her. The gift of an Attendant? It was much too generous.
Everett took Louisa’s hands and smiled down at her. “It isn’t jewels or dresses, but your safety is the most precious gift I can give you. If I’m going to court you, the world needs to know that I am going to cherish and protect you.”
Something in Louisa’s chest shifted, and she felt faint. It was happening so fast, and Mr. Hayes! She’d lain in bed at night and imagined what it would be like to be courted by him, but none of her imaginings had included an Attendant. It was strange . . . and yet perfectly right.
“Mr. Hayes, this is the most generous gift I have ever received.”
Everett smiled wide. “Excellent.” He moved off with the small man to finalize the paperwork.
“Well, that was fortuitous,” Mrs. Aiken said, her finger tapping her chin as she stared off, deep in thought. Louisa glanced over at her mother.
“Why do I suspect that you had something to do with this, Mother?”
“Well, I may have mentioned to Mr. Hayes, when he came to visit your father, how you were in need of an Attendant. Louisa! You realize you’re the first woman in Savannah to have one? Hildy Brenner is going to be absolutely flush with jealousy.”
Uncertainty settled heavily into Louisa’s middle, and suddenly her gift seemed less generous. “You talked Everett into getting me an Attendant?”
“Nonsense, darling! I did no such thing. I made a suggestion, and the boy was bright enough to pick up on it. Trust me, the ability to take a hint is a fine trait in a husband.”
The men were returning, a signed document in Everett’s hand and a wide smile on the face of the barker. Everett handed the paper to Louisa, while the small man whistled up to the dais. Louisa clutched the paper to her chest. “Mr. Hayes, I’m still not sure how to express my thanks.”
“How about by calling me Everett?”
“Of course, and you must call me Louisa.”
“Here she is,” the small man said, interrupting the moment between Louisa and Everett. Louisa turned. The girl in the trousers was only a few feet away.
“Her?” Louisa said, all of the warmth and happiness from Everett’s generosity melting away into irritation. “No, I don’t want her. She’s highly inappropriate.”
The small man laughed nervously. “Oh, you can’t judge a package by its wrapper, miss. Juliet’s my best girl and well-mannered despite her odd attire. Your beau there said he wanted my best, and here she is.”
Juliet hadn’t said a word, but there was an expression on her face like she found this all to be incredibly amusing. She swept into a deep curtsy, her movements fluid like a dancer’s. It would’ve been impressive in a dress but looked strange in trousers. “I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, miss.”
Louisa’s mother clapped her hands and laughed. “Well, isn’t she just a hoot? Louisa darling, you are going to be the talk of the town.”
The barker grinned a gap-toothed smile and rubbed his hands together. “Looks like we’re all settled.”
Louisa looked from Everett’s apologetic smile to her mother’s satisfied expression to Juliet’s smirk and realized with a sinking heart that things were, in fact, quite settled.
It wasn’t until they were heading back to the pony, Juliet and Mrs. Aiken’s parcels in tow, that Louisa realized that she’d never even mailed her letter.
The girl was completely incorrigible.
It wasn’t that she was loud or headstrong or sullen, issues Louisa knew how to handle in Negroes. It was that Juliet was perfectly well-behaved, quick to follow a request or to anticipate a need, so that Louisa could find no fault with the girl. But Louisa got the sense Juliet was playing at being the loyal servant, rather than serving loyally. It made Louisa nervous, so much that she tried to avoid the girl.
And the girl was everywhere.
No matter what Louisa was about, there was Juliet, a silent shadow, dogging her steps and watching with that half-lidded, slightly bemused expression.
The only upside to Juliet’s constant presence was Everett. He stopped by once a week, sometimes twice if the roads were passable. The undead were always out and about, but as the weather warmed to spring, the creatures became even more prevalent, cluttering roads and making travel nigh on impossible. Everett’s visits were chaperoned by Mrs. Aiken and Juliet, although Louisa wanted nothing more than to be alone with Everett—a completely scandalous thought, and one she did not share with anyone.
The first week in April, Everett came to call upon Louisa while Mrs. Aiken was away visiting friends. He walked in carrying a large wicker basket and wearing a smile that had Louisa setting aside her needlepoint and climbing to her feet.
“Louisa! Your father said I could find you in here. I was wondering if you’d do me the honor of accompanying me on a picnic?”
“Of course! It would be a pleasure,” Louisa said, smiling up at him. Thanks to his frequent visits, Everett looked completely at ease in the Aiken family drawing room, and Louisa realized that their courtship was going quite well. At this rate, she would be married by fall. The thought brought a strange combination of joy and terror. Louisa pushed it down so that she didn’t have to examine the emotion too closely.
“You look beautiful,” Everett said, offering his free arm to Louisa. She was wearing a pale green silk that she’d felt undecided about, and Everett’s compliment settled her mind that it was a good dress.
Louisa took Everett’s arm, and the two of them went out to the Aikens’ picnic pavilion, located a short distance from the house. Juliet followed along closely behind, saying nothing, and Louisa found herself irritated at the extra company. She’d thought through a hundred different ways to politely tell Everett that after nearly three months of an Attendant, she didn’t wish to have the girl around any longer. But no matter how she tried to parse it out, it just sounded ungrateful, and the last thing Louisa wanted was to have her future husband think her petty.
They were nearly to the picnic pavilion, a short walk across the grounds of Landsfall, when a bloodcurdling scream came from the fields. Louisa turned to see Negroes running from the tobacco fields back to the shotgun houses in the rear of the property. She stared openmouthed as Everett grabbed the arm of a colored woman fleeing past them.
“What is going on?” he demanded, and the woman flinched as though he’d hit her.
“Begging your pardon, sir, but there’s shamblers in the fields. The back fence has gone down, and shamblers are all over the place.”
Juliet stepped up, her half smile replaced by a steely expression. “Where?”
The woman pointed back behind her before hurrying off. Sure enough, undead were lumbering through the fields, their swaying walk distinctive.
Juliet turned to Everett. “Please escort Miss Louisa to the pavilion, Mr. Everett.”
Everett nodded. He was whiter than a christening gown, and when he laid a hand on Louisa’s arm to guide her to the nearby pavilion, she detected a tremble. Louisa wasn’t quite as scared, but most of her experience with the undead was from a safe distance. God only knew what Everett had been through.
Juliet took long strides toward the tobacco fields. The plants were still small, little more than seedlings, really, and Juliet was careful to step between the rows as she moved toward the undead. From her perch in the pavilion Louisa counted ten shamblers, and for a moment she felt a pang of fear for Juliet. How could she possibly take down so many of them? Walter Mattias, an old man who’d fought in the war, often told the story of the day his unit was overwhelmed by the undead. “If your odds are more than five to one, I guarantee those shamblers will be dining on your flesh. Trust me, boys, you see more than three and you’re by your lonesome, you’d best turn tail. No shame in knowing when you’re outmatched.”
But now, here was that fool girl Juliet walking out into a field with ten—no! Eleven, twelve shamblers, all focused on devouring her.
Louisa sighed. Well, at least she would be finally rid of the girl.
Juliet drew the gleaming swords from their holsters. There was a moment of hesitation, and then she sprang into action.
The short sword whistled through the air in an arc, catching sunlight for a moment before it detached the head of the first undead. Louisa gasped. She’d seen shamblers put down, but she’d never seen it happen so quickly, so effectively. She didn’t have time to even consider the creature’s end before Juliet was on to the next one, those shining swords detaching another head, silencing the moans and groans of another undead. Juliet moved through the pack with deadly efficiency, her movements fluid, the entire act a rapid dance that left Juliet grinning wide and smeared with the black blood of the undead.
Walter Mattias was wrong. Juliet had just put down twelve shamblers in the space of a few heartbeats, and she barely looked fatigued. The girl was more than competent. She was a master.
Next to her, Everett was saying something inane about Juliet being worth her mettle. From the direction of the house came the Aiken family patrol, led by their overseer, Gregory, a blustering white man with a florid complexion and a limp from the war. All of it was secondary to Juliet standing in the tobacco field, a wide grin on her face, an angel of true death with two gleaming swords.
Something fundamental tilted in Louisa, as though she was seeing reality for the first time. This was what it meant to be a woman of the world. To know how to handle oneself and be endlessly prepared. It wasn’t a husband Louisa needed; her mother was wrong as usual. It was this, the ability to defend herself against the undead. A skill she’d been denied in her endless trainings to be a good wife. Now she understood. The defense arts were everything she’d wanted.
And the girl Juliet was going to be the one to give them to her.
Once Everett had been sent on his way, a handful of houseboys accompanying him to ensure he got home safely, Louisa found Juliet outside near the well, hauling up buckets of water and dumping them over her head. For a moment Louisa paused, a curious warmth shifting low in her middle. There was something . . . appealing . . . about the way Juliet looked soaking wet, water running over her dark skin, the black blood of the undead rinsing away.
Louisa grabbed the feeling and shoved it down violently. She’d heard stories of men, and women, who developed affections for Negroes, and she had no desire to do the same. Down that path lay ruin, and that was not for Louisa. She was respectable.
Mostly.
“I want you to teach me how to do that.”
Juliet paused, the bucket waist-high. “Dumping water over your head? I reckon you just pick up the bucket and dump it, miss.”
“No, fighting the undead. Killing them.”
Juliet laughed, a surprised bark of sound. “You don’t want that, miss. Isn’t proper.”
“I do want that,” Louisa said, and something in her voice caused Juliet to pause, to stare at her intently.
“Teaching you how to kill the dead isn’t in the contract.”
Louisa took a deep breath and let it out slowly. That wasn’t a no. “How about I double your contract fee, give you another hundred dollars if you teach me the self-defense arts between now and when your duties are complete.”
“Six months isn’t enough time. I went to combat school for three years.”
Louisa felt that thing, that nameless desire, begin to slip away from her grasp. “But you can teach me something in that time, right?”
Juliet stood, considering. “Yep, surely something. But a hundred dollars’ worth of something? The last thing I need is some agent of the court chasing me down because I stole from some white woman. No, miss, I don’t need that at all.”
“I promise that won’t happen.”
Juliet’s mouth twisted into an ugly smile. Louisa realized Juliet was talking from experience, not a hypothetical. Louisa felt trapped, and she threw up her hands in exasperation. “I’ll have my father negotiate a new contract with your agent.”
“That man charges me thirty percent of each contract, so make it a hundred thirty dollars, and you got a deal. Now, if you don’t mind, miss, I need to finish getting tidied up. And you need to get inside where it’s safe.”
Louisa nodded and moved away, toward the house. From the nearby fields came the shouts and calls of the Landsfall patrol clearing out the undead Juliet hadn’t put down.
Louisa had convinced Juliet to teach her the self-defense arts. Now she just had to convince her father it was a good idea.
Two weeks later, after much cajoling and begging and even the threat of tears, Louisa’s father relented and agreed to pay Juliet to train Louisa in defense.
Mrs. Aiken was quite against the idea, but the thought of undead walking Landsfall sent her to bed with a bad case of the vapors every time it was mentioned, so her objections were easily overlooked.
Louisa had not thought much on self-defense arts beyond knowing it was something she didn’t have and therefore wanted. The hunger burned deep inside of her, and if it had not been for Juliet’s actions the day of the picnic, that need might have gone on slumbering. But watching Juliet move, seeing her confidence, made Louisa acutely aware of her shortcomings.
Deficiencies she was determined to correct.
They worked from sunup until it was time for dinner. Juliet explained how to hold the short swords, and then watched as Louisa swung one sword to and fro. For her part, Louisa didn’t complain. She’d fought hard to be allowed to train with Juliet, and she was afraid that if she said anything about her tired arms or the perspiration pooling under her corset, Juliet would stop showing her the finer points of self-defense.
As Louisa worked with Juliet, her arms became stronger and her corset looser, since loosening the ties allowed her to accomplish more of the drills that Juliet assigned. Working so closely with Juliet gave Louisa a new appreciation for her Attendant. And as Juliet taught her how to hold the swords and move with them, Louisa began to ask questions.
“Juliet, where are you from?”
“Juliet, do you have any family?”
“Juliet, where did you learn how to kill the undead?”
Louisa probed until she had the whole of Juliet’s life story: born on a small plantation outside Charlotte, then to Baltimore with her mother in search of her father after the war, and eventually a student at Miss Preston’s School of Combat for Negro Girls.
“I figured, if the dead were always going to be trying to kill me, I might as well kill them right back,” Juliet said, a laugh in her voice. She reached out and moved Louisa’s hands on the swords. The brief contact flustered Louisa, but Juliet didn’t notice. “Loosen up on the handle, not too tight. You don’t want to get tired too quickly. Shamblers are a persistent sort; you want to be able to outlast them.”
Louisa adjusted her grip and practiced the swing again, somewhat breathless from both the training and Juliet’s touch. “You are completely unlike any other Negro I’ve met.”
Juliet laughed, the sound hollow. “Truth is, I’m just like every single other colored person on this plantation. You just ain’t paying attention. Follow through on the motion, don’t halt yourself on the back swing,” she said, moving past her gentle rebuke so smoothly that it took Louisa a few moments to realize it had even been said.
But the words had been uttered, and Louisa mulled over Juliet’s comment that evening and the next day. And every day after that. She started to take closer note of the goings-on around Landsfall, began to notice small things around her. She noticed the dismissive way her father and Everett talked about the Negroes over supper, as though they were lesser just because of an accident of birth. She saw how the colored servants would laugh and smile when they thought whites were not around. She watched how their expressions became guarded whenever Louisa or any of her family entered the room. And she noticed how a couple of the girls smiled at Juliet, a knowing smile that usually followed small touches. It would’ve been nothing if Louisa hadn’t caught Juliet kissing one of the girls passionately before defense practice one morning, a sight that caused Louisa to blush and gave her fevered dreams that left her troubled and out of sorts.
Louisa liked training with Juliet and listening to her talk about her life before Savannah. But it wasn’t the only thing she liked.
She began to appreciate entirely too much. Like the way Juliet’s arms looked, the muscles straining at the material of her shirt, and how Juliet would smile at her, truly grin, when Louisa managed to complete an especially tricky series of drills. After two months of working with Juliet, Louisa felt like a different person.
A better person.
“I think I’m ready, Juliet,” Louisa said one day without preamble as she turned the swords in a move Juliet called “Harvesting Wheat.”
“Ready for what?”
“I want to go out and hunt the undead,” Louisa said.
A frown crossed Juliet’s face, but it was quickly smoothed away. “Louisa, that isn’t a good idea.”
Louisa let her swords fall to her side. “Why not?”
“Because you’re not ready yet. I trained for a year before I even took on my first shambler, and then I still had my teacher watching to make sure I didn’t get the fright. The shamblers out there are thick as mosquitoes in July. You go out, untrained and unready, and you won’t stand a chance.”
“Have you thought maybe I’m just better than you, Juliet?” Louisa harrumphed.
“No, I haven’t, Miss Louisa,” Juliet said quietly. Louisa sensed that she’d stumbled into something dangerous. It was the first time Juliet had used the honorific in front of her name in months. Her suspicions were confirmed when Juliet said, “I think that’s enough for today, Miss Louisa. Mrs. Aiken told me you needed time to prepare for the trip into town.”
“What do you mean, a trip into town?”
Juliet shrugged, something Louisa had never seen her do before. “I don’t know anything, Miss Louisa. I just do what I’m told.”
Louisa stood in the grass, searching for something to say as Juliet took back her swords, checked their edges, holstered them, and went off into the house to attend to her own business.
Louisa wasn’t sure why she felt so bad about Juliet’s sudden detachment, but she did. She’d done something wrong, something that had upset Juliet. Louisa didn’t want her to be cross; she couldn’t bear the thought of not seeing Juliet smile down at her. It made her heart clutch painfully to think that something she had done had erased that joy from Juliet’s face.
She didn’t know how to fix things, and she didn’t know why she cared in the first place.
After washing up and donning a fresh dress, Louisa entered the foyer to find Mrs. Aiken barking at the staff as they brought trunks down the stairs. Louisa recognized her own traveling trunk, one that she hadn’t used since she was small, sitting among the stacks.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
Mrs. Aiken turned around and smiled brightly at Louisa. “This morning Everett came by and asked for your hand in marriage. Engaged before the fall! Oh, Louisa, you will be the envy of all of Savannah. Less than a year from debut to wedding. Your father has decided we should spend the rest of the summer in town, since it will make the festivities easier. There’ve been reports of a considerable horde heading our way, so we’re going to leave this afternoon.”
Louisa tried to take a deep breath, to steady herself. It was all happening so fast. She was to be engaged. And to Everett! But there was a horde coming toward them, and that seemed like a matter of grave consequence. There was also the matter of Landsfall and the staff.
“A horde, Mother? Shouldn’t we stay here and secure Landsfall? That many undead doesn’t sound good.”
Mrs. Aiken waved away Louisa’s concern. “That’s exactly why we’re going to Savannah. We’ll be much safer in the city, behind the wall with the patrols.” Mrs. Aiken patted Louisa’s hand. “Don’t worry, we’ll have your girl to see to our safety.”
Mrs. Aiken moved off and began instructing a few of the men on loading the pony. Louisa tried not to wring her hands in worry, but abandoning Landsfall seemed like a terrible idea. Wouldn’t there be more danger from the undead in a closely packed city, regardless of the wall?
Louisa looked over to Juliet, who was talking in a low voice with one of the other colored girls. The girl was visibly upset, and whatever Juliet said calmed her some. Juliet smiled down at the girl and then pulled her in for a hug, and Louisa was surprised by a sharp stab of jealousy. She wanted Juliet to calm her like that, to wrap her strong arms around her and make her feel safe, the same way she had the day the undead broke through the fences of Landsfall.
Juliet released the girl, looking up to meet Louisa’s gaze. Juliet raised her eyebrows in question, and it was at that moment Louisa realized she was staring, her hands clenched in fists.
Purposely looking anywhere but at Juliet, Louisa went to prepare herself for the trip to Savannah.
The trip into town was uneventful, despite Louisa’s anxiety that the horde would intercept them before they made it into the city. And as the days filled with engagement dinners and wedding planning, Louisa completely forgot about both the rumored horde of undead and her spat with Juliet.
Because there was Everett.
He was solicitous, coming round to the Aiken family townhouse at least twice a day to check on Louisa, to see if there was anything she needed. He brought flowers and a warm smile, and Louisa couldn’t help but think she was going to end up married to the best man in the world.
Even so, there was still a niggle of doubt in the back of her mind. It wasn’t that she had any other prospects—marrying Everett was really the only acceptable thing she could do with her life. It was that she wanted something more than Everett’s perfunctory kisses and gentle touches and a life of wifely duties.
But what?
And every time she asked this question, there was the image of Juliet kissing one of the Landsfall girls out behind the pavilion.
All of these emotions churned through Louisa the day the undead breached the city wall.
It came as a clanging of bells, and at first Louisa thought there was a fire. But the screams and shouts that filtered through the windows from the street quickly made clear that nothing was burning, but the city was in trouble all the same.
Juliet ran to the front door, throwing it wide and looking down the street.
“What is it?” Louisa asked, hurrying to stand next to Juliet.
“Shamblers.”
They were everywhere. Men and women ran down the street in wide-eyed panic while the undead lumbered after them, arms reaching out to, more often than not, clutch empty air. The smell was terrible, a sweetly foul rot that overwhelmed and made Louisa gag. A man tripped and fell, the undead swarming him quickly, the echo of his screams fading soon after they fell on him.
But not soon enough.
Juliet closed the door and locked it, moving the huge barricade bar in place. “We need to get you out of the corset, Miss Louisa. You need to be able to breathe if you’re going to run.”
“What about Mother?” Mrs. Aiken had gone to Mrs. Arsbury’s house for a luncheon. She was trapped out there, somewhere.
Juliet shook her head. “Our best bet is to get out of town, head down to Landsfall. Maybe get a boat and double back through one of the marshes. . . .” Juliet trailed off as she thought, her teeth capturing her full bottom lip and worrying it. Louisa felt a sudden shock as she realized that Juliet was so young, yet so much wiser than she was.
“Why don’t you just call me Louisa anymore?” It was a petty thing to bring up at such a time, but she couldn’t help it.
Juliet didn’t miss a beat, ushering Louisa up the stairs to change. “Because for a moment I forgot you were a white woman, but then you reminded me, and I don’t need for that to happen again.”
Louisa didn’t want to understand what Juliet meant by that, but she did. Training with Juliet had caused her to see Negroes in a different light . . . but not nearly enough, it seemed. Louisa knew it wasn’t fair for someone as competent as Juliet to be trapped in a position of perpetual servitude, but that was just the way things worked, and it wasn’t up to Louisa to change things.
Was it?
Louisa was full of doubts and questions, but it was a terrible time for existential crises. There was a horde quickly overrunning Savannah. It would all have to wait.
Juliet helped Louisa out of her dress and her corset, and helped her dress again in a plainer traveling dress made of cotton. They ran downstairs to find the undead pounding at the door and the windows, the metal bars the only thing keeping out the ravenous creatures. The cook, Dessa, and her two small girls were standing in the foyer, clinging to one another. Juliet went over and whispered something low to Dessa and the girls, who were crying quietly. They settled a bit, nodding at whatever Juliet said.
“Let’s hope they haven’t found their way down the alley,” Juliet said. She paused to hand her swords to Louisa before pulling Mr. Aiken’s cavalry sword from the war off the mantel. She tested the edge while Louisa looked.
“What are you doing with Daddy’s sword?”
“You need a weapon. Dessa is going to have to mind the girls as we move through town, and you aren’t strong enough to take out a shambler with a single-handed weapon. So I get to pretend to be a Confederate for a minute. More’s the pity.”
Louisa said nothing, and Juliet continued. “I’m taking the lead. Louisa—” Louisa noticed the lack of honorific and smiled. “You take the rear. We don’t put down a shambler unless we have no choice, you hear? The goal is speed, not glory.”
“Shouldn’t we stay here?” Louisa said, pointing to the undead trying to claw through the windows. “The bars seem to be holding.”
“This is the leading edge of the horde, and it’s already a hundred deep. Once the bulk of them get here, we’ll be trapped. Our chances are better on the move.”
Juliet waited, as though she expected Louisa to argue, but Louisa just nodded. “I’m right behind you, then.”
Juliet walked toward the back of the townhouse, through the dining room and the kitchen and out into the garden. The yelling, the gunshots, and the rasping growls of the undead filtered in from the front of the house, but the small alley behind the house was quieter and free of undead.
“Shamblers go after noise and movement. There’s enough shenanigans on the main road that we should be able to travel for a while,” Juliet said.
They navigated the alleys, moving away from the screams and shouts, dashing across the more exposed lanes like frightened rabbits. Once they burst out of an alley onto a small pod of three bent over a fallen woman, the wet sounds of their feeding loud. Dessa wrapped her arms around the girls while Juliet removed the heads of the undead, sticking the sword through the eye of the fallen woman so that she wouldn’t rise again. Louisa watched, swallowing hard when she felt her lunch attempt to come up.
They kept moving, quickly, cautiously. After they’d gone a few blocks, the sounds faded away to normal city noise. Juliet led the group toward the river and the docks, and once they were in view, it quickly became clear that others had had the same idea.
The docks were in chaos.
People were trying to climb the boats moored to the shore while sailors pushed them away. A few people had jumped into the water to try and swim across the river, heedless of the undead that might be lurking in the depths. A man waded into the river carrying a door, and after placing it on the water he climbed aboard and began to paddle himself across the murky water. People were pushing and yelling, screaming and pleading, and Juliet looked lost as she took in the scene.
“The scare must’ve started a while ago,” she said, gesturing to the number of people crowding the wharf. “There’s no way we’ll be able to hitch a ride out of here at this rate.”
“Louisa!”
Louisa turned. Everett hurried toward them, his normally healthy skin unnaturally pale. “What are you doing with those swords? Is it true? Is the city lost?”
Louisa nodded. “We need to find a boat out of here, head back to Landsfall. We’ll be safe there.”
Everett shook his head. “Not likely. The horde came from the south. I’m sorry, Louisa, but Landsfall may be lost.”
A calm settled over Louisa. Her childhood home, gone. And what of the people, what of all the men and women and children who worked the plantation, colored and white alike? Were they also gone?
Everett gathered her up in his arms, and Louisa fell into them gratefully. “I’ll protect you, my beautiful Louisa. We’ll be married and I’ll care for you.”
“Not if we don’t get across that river,” Juliet said. “The horde came from the south? Then that explains why everyone is trying to swim across to Carolina. I’ve got kin there, if you have a boat that can get us to safety.”
Everett released Louisa and looked at Juliet, Dessa, and the girls as though he was seeing them for the first time. “Just exactly who do you think you are, speaking to me that way?”
“Everett, Juliet navigated us through a city full of undead. She knows what she’s doing,” Louisa said, laying a hand on his arm. His face flushed.
“I’m not of the mind to put up with uppity Negroes, regardless of their use. I can protect you now that we’re to be married, and these three can be on their way.” Everett pushed Louisa behind him and advanced on Juliet, who once again wore the slight smile Louisa had come to know was a self-defense mechanism.
Louisa straightened, anger making her brave. No one was going to treat Juliet poorly. “I’m not going to marry you, Everett.”
Everett turned back around. Louisa prepared for an argument.
That was the moment an undead Negro woman launched herself at Everett, tearing into his throat.
Dessa and her girls screamed in unison, a counterpoint to Everett’s howls of pain. Louisa watched the spurt of red with wide eyes, her hands going slack and the swords tumbling from her grasp.
Juliet sprang forward, taking off the shambler’s head and Everett’s as well. She tucked the cavalry sword into one of her holsters and picked up the short swords Louisa had dropped.
“You hear me?” Juliet said, snapping her fingers in front of Louisa’s face.
“Yes! I had a shock, I haven’t been struck dumb,” Louisa snapped.
Then she looked down at the ground and her now headless fiancé. Tears filled her eyes. “Oh, poor, stupid Everett. It was probably better this way.”
Juliet laughed, and Louisa realized how her words must have sounded. She’d heard that people acted strangely in life-or-death situations, and she knew that she probably wasn’t acting rationally.
But hearing Juliet laugh was such a welcome sound that Louisa found herself reaching out, pulling Juliet close, and planting a kiss right on her smiling lips.
Juliet leaned back in surprise. “Well now, don’t start celebrating yet. We’ve still got to find a way out of town,” she said, glancing over her shoulder at Dessa and the girls. None of them were paying attention, since the undead were starting to flood the riverfront.
“We need to run,” Juliet said, pointing north along the waterfront. “If the horde came from the south, we might be able to flank them.”
They began to run, quickly at first, then more sporadically as the girls developed side cramps. Louisa made the mistake of glancing over her shoulder, only to see people devoured as the horde of undead rushed into them, pinning them between the river and the fallen city. Some people ran north, like them, and others jumped into the river, drowning or swimming for the South Carolina shore.
Once they were out of sight of the undead, Juliet routed them back through the city. It was still madness, but for the most part the horde had skipped the northern part of Savannah, leaving people to evacuate if they could, and flee.
Juliet was unfazed by all of it. Every so often she would cock her head to the side, listening for some far-off sound and then stepping out smartly once again.
They walked for hours, making their way out of the city’s north gates, thrown open wide to allow folks to escape, and onto the main road to Charleston with all of the other refugees. After a while on the road, Dessa saw a few of her kin, and a teary reunion stopped all traffic for a moment. She and her girls parted ways with Louisa and Juliet, Dessa taking a penny from around her neck and pressing it into Juliet’s hand despite her refusal. In resignation Juliet fastened the penny around her neck, and Louisa watched them go, a hollowness opening up in her middle. Now that the immediate danger was gone, a dark despair settled over her.
Juliet caught sight of Louisa and frowned. “Hey now, what’s the matter?”
“I’ve got no one,” Louisa said, the words catching on a sob. “Landsfall is gone. Everett . . .” Louisa trailed off, Everett’s last moments flashing before her eyes. “I’m all alone and wholly unprepared for this.”
Juliet sighed and patted Louisa’s hand awkwardly. “Aww, let’s hush that fuss. You’ve got me. I’ll make sure you get settled up nice in Charleston. And then we’ll find a way to see if your family home is still standing.”
Louisa hiccuped one last time. “What about California?”
Juliet stopped and crossed her arms. “What about California?”
“I heard you talking about it last week when Dessa asked you what you were planning to do now, once your contract was over.” Louisa looked at the other refugees from Savannah walking on either side of the road and lowered her voice. “I want to go with you. I want to be with you.” Louisa tried to put all of her feelings into her voice, to express how she hated the idea of being apart from Juliet, no matter whether it was right or not.
Juliet’s expression quickly cycled through shock to anger and finally sadness. “You don’t deserve to be with me,” she said, and continued walking.
Louisa watched her go, her desperation draining away. Juliet was right. Louisa didn’t deserve her. Not yet. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t change.
Running to catch up, Louisa followed after Juliet, down the road to Charleston.