by J. R. Harber
“The ones you’ve seen were saplings. Younger trees. These have been here longer. Some of them even from before the Founding.”
“There are so many.”
“That’s what makes it a forest. Haven’t you seen pictures?”
“Sure. This is different.”
She went to the trunk of an enormous oak and put her hand on its surface. Asa felt a quiet rush of pride.
“I’m glad you like it,” he said. “Come on, we should hurry.” Eve nodded, and they set off toward the village.
Asa’s house—I guess not my house anymore, he thought—was not far away, and they reached the small parcel of land his parents farmed in less than an hour. When he saw the house, Asa’s spirit lifted.
Everything will be all right. He pictured his mother and father sitting at the table and chatting, their heads bent together companionably. They’ll know what to do. He strode out into the field, then turned around; Eve had stopped, hesitating at the tree line.
“You’re sure we can trust them?” she asked, her eyes shrouded in worry.
Asa was aghast. “They’re my parents,” he said and held out a hand as he might to a recalcitrant dog. “Come on.”
Eve stepped out of the trees and took his hand, gripping it tightly as they walked toward the back door of the house.
As Asa raised his hand to knock, Eve caught him by the wrist.
“Remember, you can’t tell them anything,” she whispered.
He pulled her aside, huddling against the wall so they would not be visible through the door.
“I told you, we can trust them,” he said.
“I believe you. We can’t tell them because they can’t know—Asa, there will be stalkers after us. They’ll question your family. Don’t put them in that position.”
He stared at her, struck dumb by the obvious. Contract Enforcers.
“But we covered our tracks,” he argued weakly.
Her dark eyes were kind but resolute; she looked sad, as if she had somehow failed him. “It will slow them down, that’s all,” she said. “Asa, I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault …”
Asa broke off as the door swung open, and his father’s cheerful face appeared.
“Asa! How long are you and your beautiful new friend going to whisper outside? Haven’t you told her we won’t bite?” He winked at Eve. “I’m Isaac Thomas Rosewood, Asa’s father, as you probably already know. Sarah! Come see who I found!” he called back into the house.
“Dad! Dad, let us in, quick!” Asa rushed Eve through the door as his father stepped back to let them in. Asa closed the door behind them and latched it as his mother came into the kitchen.
“Asa? You’re back!” She nearly ran to him, grabbing him in a quick hug and kissing both his cheeks before he could stop her.
“Mom!” he said, pulling away. “Listen, I have to …”
“Sarah, look, he’s brought a young woman,” Isaac interrupted, laying out plates on the dining table with an exuberant clatter.
Sarah turned her attention to Eve, whose face had gone stony, her posture straight. On the surface, at least, she seemed to have regained her confidence. Sarah looked appraisingly at her, then turned to Asa.
“What’s wrong?” she asked sternly.
“Wrong?” Isaac stopped moving, his hands full of forks and spoons.
“Isaac, stop bouncing around and look at your son’s face! Something is wrong. Tell us.”
Asa glanced at Eve, who shook her head ever so slightly.
“I can’t,” he said.
His mother’s face hardened. “And why not?” she asked, looking at Eve, who merely looked back placidly.
“I’m in trouble,” he said, the calming words he had rehearsed in his head vanishing from memory. “I didn’t do anything, but it looks like I did, and now we’re going to fix it, but we need to look at Grandfather Herschel’s maps,” he finished.
“Maps?” Sarah knotted her fingers together anxiously. “Why do you need those?”
“We just … do,” Asa answered.
The pit of his stomach had turned to lead, and he bit his lip. Isaac left the room, and Asa looked nervously at his mother; her face was twisted as if she were in physical pain.
“Mom, I’m sorry,” he began, trailing off as Isaac returned with a large wooden box. He set it firmly on the table, rattling the dishes.
“Grandfather Herschel’s maps,” Isaac said grimly. “Not that I know what use they’ll be. They’re fifty years out of date.”
“Thank you,” Eve said quietly, and the sound of her voice roused Sarah, who turned on her.
“Who are you? What have you gotten him into?” she demanded.
“She didn’t get me into anything!” Asa exclaimed, but Eve gave him a level look.
“Yes, I did.” She turned back to Sarah. “I’m going to get him out of it. I know someone who can help. We just have to get to him.”
Sarah shook her head. “I don’t believe you. You’re in so much trouble you can’t even tell us about it? Asa, what have you done? I can’t lose you! I can’t watch you die like a beast in some televised duel!”
She began to cry in earnest, and Isaac put a hand on her shoulder. She turned to him, letting him pull her into an embrace, and she wept against his chest as Isaac stared at his son, tears shining in his own eyes. Asa looked helplessly at Eve, but she was staring fixedly into the distance, ignoring them all.
“Mom,” Asa said. “Dad, listen, you won’t lose me. I’m … we’re going to fix it, I promise. We just need an hour here, maybe two, then we’ll go.”
“One hour. I want you out of here before sundown,” Isaac said, his voice colder than Asa had ever heard it.
Sarah had composed herself, though she looked odd, as if she weren’t quite present. Asa looked at his father, surprised, but Isaac was unflinching.
“I’d lay down my life for you, son,” he said, “if I didn’t have another child to think of.”
He left the room without waiting for a reply. Asa stared down at the table, tears springing to his eyes.
“Asa,” his mother whispered.
“I’m sorry,” he began, and she shook her head.
“I love you more than you will ever know,” she said. She hugged him, standing up on her toes to kiss his temple. “Don’t say goodbye,” she said. “Just go when you’re done.”
“What?” Asa pulled back, hurt.
“It’s better if they don’t know when we leave,” Eve said clearly. “That way it’ll be harder to estimate how far we’ve gone.”
Sarah raised her eyebrow. “Yes,” she said. She walked out briskly, not looking back.
“You didn’t mention maps,” Eve said when they were alone. Asa lifted the box off the table and set it on the floor.
“I didn’t think of it until we got here,” he said honestly. “My grandfather—my mother’s father—he was old when she was born. He lived through the years of chaos before the Founding.” Eve’s eyes widened. “He helped build the town,” Asa went on, “and he kept some records: maps, population data, things like that.”
“I don’t know how that will help.”
“It might not.” Asa opened the trunk and coughed as a cloud of dust arose. Eve stepped back, waving her hand to clear the air. “The thing is, how do we get to Sanctuary, right?” he said.
She nodded, and he handed her an unwieldy pile of papers, yellowed with age. She set them on the table, moving a plate, and sat down.
Asa took the rest and sat down beside her. “He might have maps from before the Founding,” he said in a low voice.
“Oh,” Eve said. “Oh!”
“Right.”
“Maps that show the Waste or the future site of Sanctuary.” She looked at him incredulously. “How could you not think of this before?”
Asa shrugged, slightly embarrassed. “I was too busy running for my life?”
Eve smiled, shook her head, and turned her attention to the maps.
“Can I help?” she asked.
“No,” Eve said automatically, then looked up in surprise.
“My sister, Hannah,” Asa said, getting up to hug her.
She squeezed him tightly, then leaned past him, trying to see what was on the table. “What are you doing?” she asked.
“We’re looking for something,” Asa said.
“No,” Eve said again, more gently this time.
Hannah narrowed her eyes, affronted. “Who are you and why are you giving my brother orders?” she asked, and Asa laughed suddenly.
Eve smiled, her face lighting up. “I’m not giving Asa orders. I swear,” she said.
“What’s your name, then?” Hannah asked.
Eve stood up, and Asa saw her as if for the first time again: her shining black hair, her smooth, light brown skin, her shimmering green dress, and her luminous eyes. He glanced at his teenage sister, who was staring openly.
“Hannah,” Eve said seriously, “Asa and I have to do something very important. People might ask you questions about us, and it’s best if you don’t have the answers they are looking for. Does that make sense to you?”
Hannah looked as if she wanted to object, but she nodded. “Is Asa going to be okay?” she asked, and Eve nodded.
“Yes.”
“How can you be sure?” Hannah pressed.
Eve wavered. Asa looked back and forth between them, feeling as if he should intervene, but Eve spoke before he could.
“I can’t be sure,” she admitted, sitting back down. She picked up the map she had been looking at and placed it on the reject pile, smoothing it down like cloth. “I can be sure that Asa and I will do everything in our power to make it back here safely.”
Hannah shook her head in frustration. “Why do you have to go at all? I don’t understand.”
“I’ll explain when we come back,” Asa said, but Hannah glared at him, and he stepped back, uncertain why she was so intent on hearing this from Eve.
Eve folded her hands and leaned forward on the table. “Asa told me the story about the bridge,” she said.
“Everyone knows that story.”
“What does everyone think it means?” Eve asked. Hannah looked suspicious. “It’s not a test. I’m not patronizing you. I’m really asking. What do the people here think it means about Asa?”
Hannah hid a smirk. “That he’s a reckless fool,” she said, giving him a sideways glance.
Eve grinned. “He is that. Anything else?”
“Yeah.” Hannah paused, looking off to the side as if choosing her words. “They think it means there’s something special about Asa—something tough. The little kids think of it like he fought the Bug and he won, and if he can do that, he can do anything.”
“Really?” Asa was taken aback. “Little kids know about that?”
“Believe me, I’m not the one telling them,” Hannah said dryly. “They ask me about it when I’m taking my turn teaching.”
“What do you think?” Eve asked, ignoring the intervening conversation. Hannah turned back to her.
“I think Asa’s a reckless fool,” she said. She turned to Asa and gave him another fast, rough hug. “I’ll see you when you get back, fool.” She kissed him on the cheek and hurried from the room.
Asa watched her go. Abandoned in my own house, he thought morosely, looking around the familiar room. How could I have been so eager to get away? His sister’s constant questions, his parents’ incessant chatter of advice, their embarrassing affection for Asa and for each other—it all seemed like a small price for the warmth of a loving home. I wanted to go away and never come back. I guess I’ll get what I wished for.
“Asa,” Eve sounded impatient.
“What?”
“I said your name twice. Come look.” She held up a paper and waved it at him.
Asa sat down beside her, and she passed him the map. It was hand-drawn in black ink, and Rosewood was a single dot on a larger landscape. It showed all the communities, and the city of Horizon, all cordoned off from the Waste with a thick dotted line.
North of the Waste, accessible only by the State railway through the mountains, was Work. The Waste took up the whole center of the map, more immense even than Asa had imagined it. It was a blank space, with no landmarks noted—why would there be? Along the far western side of the Waste was a wide river, and across the river was Sanctuary.
Asa considered it for a moment. “I never saw where everything was, all laid out like that,” he said.
“Me either,” Eve said. “I thought Horizon was more like there,” she added, pointing to a spot just past the boundary to the Waste.
Asa laughed. “I know people say things about the city, but I think you’d know if you were living in the Waste!”
She grinned and turned back to the map. “Asa, I don’t know about this.”
“This was your idea!”
“I know, but I thought there must be some way to get to Sanctuary. Look, there’s literally no way to get there from here.”
“Sure there is.” Asa bent over the map, looking more closely.
“No, there isn’t. It’s cut off by the Waste and the water. I don’t even know how they get people out there.”
“Well, they do,” Asa said. “They get people to Sanctuary, so there’s a way into Sanctuary. And if there’s a way in, then we can get in.”
Eve traced her finger slowly along the edge of the Waste. “I guess I assumed that we could get there from here,” she said. “Asa, we’re going to have to go into the Waste.”
“Yeah.”
“You knew?”
“I figured.”
Eve was quiet for a moment, then she folded the map briskly and slipped it into a pocket of her backpack. “Anything else you want from here?” she asked.
Asa looked around the room helplessly. Everything. I want everything from here.
“No,” he said. “Nothing.” He cleared his throat. “The cars are a pretty short walk from here. We’ll have to take one and just bring it back when we can. It should get us through the Waste, and the river … there’s got to be a way across, maybe a bridge. That’s an old map. It wouldn’t show everything.”
“Okay, then.” Eve got up and slung her backpack onto her back. “Let’s get a car.”
“This is it?” Eve asked, surveying the charging station as if another car might pop into existence.
“It’s not a big community,” Asa said, slightly insulted. “There are usually five. The other ones must be in use.”
Eve walked in a circle around the two remaining cars, an anxious look on her face.
“What?” Asa asked. “I know they’re old, but they’re all in good shape. It doesn’t matter which one we take.”
“It’s not that,” Eve said. “They’re plug-ins! Asa, doesn’t the community have solar cars?”
“Yeah, of course …” He surveyed the station quickly. “But these aren’t them.” He joined her beside the nearest car and peered in the window. “This one’s fully charged,” he said. “It’ll get us about five hundred miles. That should be enough, right?”
Eve leaned back against the car and put her hands over her face. She sighed, then let her arms fall to her sides. “That map didn’t show distances. It might be enough. It might get us there but not back. Or it might leave us stranded in the middle of the Waste.”
“We could wait for one of the solar cars to come back,” Asa said doubtfully.
“How long will that take?”
“Hours. Days. Minutes. I don’t know. People don’t use cars when they’re going somewhere nearby.”
“We can’t risk it.”
Eve took off her backpack and got something out, a flat black device with a few wires sticking out of it. She dropped to her knees and ducked her head under the car, just behind the front wheel, then came
back out and lay flat on her back.
“What are you doing?” Asa asked as her upper body disappeared under the car. He averted his eyes as her short dress rode up even higher on her thighs.
“Disabling the tracker,” she said, her voice muffled.
Asa waited a moment, then went around to the back and opened the trunk, checking the emergency supplies. When he was satisfied that everything was in place, he added their bags. As he closed the trunk, Eve wriggled back out from under the car, her forehead streaked with wheel grease. Asa smiled.
“What?” she asked.
“Nothing. You’ve got …” He gestured.
“Oh. Thanks.” She grabbed a rag and wiped her face clean, bending over to use the side mirror of the car.
“I checked the emergency supplies,” he said as she scrubbed at the grease. “We’ve got five gallons of water and a portable purifier, a week of rations—but that’s for four people, so we can stretch it longer—blankets, stuff like that.”
Eve nodded, but he couldn’t tell if she had been listening. “Come on, get in,” she said, opening the driver’s side door.
“Wait, you spent most of your life in Horizon. Have you ever driven a car?” Asa asked.
“I’ll figure it out,” she said shortly.
“Eve, I know how to drive,” he said, perplexed.
She stopped moving. “Right,” she said. “Of course.” She kept her hand on the door handle.
Asa frowned, then understanding dawned.
“You’re not alone in this,” he said. “Let me help.”
She looked at him fixedly, her expression blank, and then she stepped away from the car and nodded. “You drive,” she said. As she passed him, she paused, grasping his shoulder for a moment. “Thanks,” she whispered.
He nodded, and they got into the car. Asa let the scanner read his face, then started the car, pulled out into the road, and drove the other way out of town.
“I’ve never gone this way,” he said.
“How come?”
“I don’t know, I just never had a reason to.” Now it seemed odd that there was a path so close to home that he had never even tried to follow. “There’s nothing that way but the mountains, I guess,” he added, justifying his lack of curiosity.