Travelers

by Alia Hess

  “Yeah. We’ll figure it out. Together. And if we need to keep her, then, that’s what we’re going to do. I’ll be her father.”

  Owl studied Trav’s face. “Really?”

  “Really. It just needed some time to sink in. And I know that’s not an excuse. It wasn’t right for me to leave you here all alone. I was just already upset with Quietbird, and then this…” He shook his head. “But I went to the market this morning and bought her some clothes and toys and—”

  “You did?”

  “Yeah. They’re on the table. And her bed should be delivered this afternoon. I would have been back earlier, but I got the wrong size clothes and when I tried to exchange them, Greensnake was giving me a hard time. He didn’t want—”

  Owl pressed her mouth to Trav’s, the sharpness of her anger dissolving and everything feeling just a little bit better. She pulled back and smiled. “Thank you.”

  He frowned. “Don’t thank me. I screwed up big time. You deserve better. Now, are there chores to be done? Because I need to make up some points with you.”

  “Just hold me. I need you.”

  Trav obliged, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her back on the bed. She nuzzled into his neck.

  “…Are you wearing my shirt?”

  “Yes.”

  “Looks good on you.”

  There was a knock on the door early the next morning.

  Owl looked up expectantly as she sat at the table with her breakfast of fish and fruit.

  Trav opened the door; Seasalt stood on the step, her smiling eyes filled with delight. Aki was not with her.

  “Hey, Seasalt. Come in.”

  “Oh. Trav. Nice of you to come home.” Seasalt narrowed her eyes at him.

  Trav bunched his lips. “I’m gonna get it from you too, huh?”

  “Of course! But I have good news, so you might be back in Owl’s favor sooner than you thought, Roadtraveler.” Seasalt sat at the table across from Owl. “I found a new home for Aki.”

  Owl paused, a slice of peach halfway to her mouth. “You did?”

  “Yep. When I took Aki to the market yesterday, people could not get over how cute she is. And, they still can’t get enough of how caring and selfless you are, Owl. Several people told me that seeing you embrace someone different than yourself, just like that, changed them. And they want to be more like you.”

  Owl set down her fork and shook her head. “You’re kidding me.”

  “No! Really. I mean, you did that with Trav too, but they saw you do it with Aki. It warmed their judgmental hearts. Anyway, later that day, Goldbud and Seastar—do you know them?”

  “I think we’ve met.”

  “Trav knows who they are. Really nice couple. They had a two-year-old with health problems who died a few years ago. He was a little firecracker. They’ve tried having more, but it’s just not working out for them. When they saw how cute and rambunctious Aki was at the market, they were won over. They said they never would have considered taking on someone else’s child—especially a non-Nisian— but hearing how you acted with her convinced them that they could do it too.”

  Owl sat back in her chair, stunned.

  Trav chewed his lip, eyeing the folded dresses and teddy bears in a nearby chair. “And here I was gearing up to be her father.”

  Seasalt scratched her head. “You want to keep her?”

  Trav glanced at Owl. “Not if there’s a couple that needs her. But I’m here for her if that doesn’t work out.”

  She smirked. “What did you do, Owl? Hit him with a frying pan?”

  Owl laughed. “No. But I agree with him. I would love her and take care of her if need be. And I’m sure that after we got to know each other better, we’d think of her as our own, but it sounds like this couple will be perfect. They are good people, right? They’ll take care of her?”

  “Oh, yes, they’re very nice. I just hope Aki takes to them. She’s still asleep at my house. The twins love her. I think maybe if we all go over to Goldbud and Seastar’s with her, hang out for a while, she’ll see us all there and won’t think that we’re ditching her with strangers.”

  Trav sat at the table. “I can’t believe it. Thanks, Seasalt.”

  Seasalt smirked. “Not sure you want to thank me, Trav. People know how you left Owl here all alone. I think that partly swayed their judgement too. You guys are a cute couple and they don’t want to see you break up.”

  Seasalt’s gossiping finally came in handy.

  Trav looked at the table, then gestured to the clothes on the chair. “I can bring that stuff by for her later. There’s a bed, too.”

  “Oh! That’s perfect. I’m sure Goldbud and Seastar will be grateful for it.” Seasalt stood and put her arms around them. “Alright, cousins, crisis taken care of. Owl, finish your breakfast. And Trav… don’t be an idiot.” She gave each of them a peck on the cheek, then left the house.

  Owl shut her eyes, sinking into Trav’s side. He put an arm around her. “You still mad at me?”

  “Yes. But you can make it up to me. We’re out of barbeque crickets again. Will you go to the market today and get me more?”

  Trav chuckled. “Whatever you want, pregnant lady.”

  December 03, 154—Aki is taking to her new family just fine. She was a little wary of her new parents at first, but she warmed up to them pretty quickly. Goldbud and Seastar have a pet fox and I think Aki is in love. Those two chased each other around the house the entire time we were there. I’m really relieved that she’s in a good home.

  December 05, 154—People want to talk to me around town all the time now. It’s really weird. I never thought I would fully be accepted here. And they’re concerned about my relationship with Trav. I keep assuring them that everything is fine.

  21 ~ Home ~

  The bed sank down next to Owl and she opened her eyes.

  “Time to wake up.” Trav stroked her hair.

  “No.” Owl groaned, burying her face in the silky pillow. She rubbed her eye and frowned. On the wall, an Old World landscape painting with a tear in the bottom hung crookedly next to a broken clock. She sat up.

  More things hung from the walls and sat on the shelves: dusty glass bottles, a snow globe, tattered teddy bears, computer parts, and an ancient kitchen appliance she didn’t have a name for.

  Trav smiled. “You said you missed the Mainland, so I brought a little bit of it in.”

  Owl’s mouth hung open as she marveled at the items. “You collected all this stuff for me?”

  “Yeah. And that’s not all. I got these pictures too.” He handed her a small stack of photos, then pointed to the one on top. “See? It’s Cadestown.”

  She fanned the photos of broken houses and boofalope, tears welling in her eyes.

  “I also got you some jeans—although with you pregnant, I don’t know if they’ll fit, and some Mainland shirts. You don’t have to dress like a Nisian every day.”

  Owl threw her arms around Trav and he laughed. She pressed her forehead to his shoulder, squeezing him tightly. “Thank you! I love it. You don’t know how much it means to me to be surrounded by all this junk. Where did you get this stuff? And these photos?”

  Trav shrugged. “I just asked around. People have all kind of things they collected at one time or another and don’t mind parting with. I did have to pay for the photos, but I thought they were pretty neat, so…”

  She shook her head at him. “This is great. You’re great.”

  Owl stood from the bed, running her fingers along the nubby picture frame and strange electronic parts. Suddenly, she was fourteen again, standing in front of a bookshelf in Corvin’s secret house, staring at his collection of items with her mouth agape—animal skulls draped in delicate tangled chains, tarnished metal photo frames, rusted Old World machines with trailing wires. Corvin sat on his green velvet throne, his long legs crossed and a goblet of moonshine in his hand. Then he was gone and the house was hers. She’d cried there, kissed boys there, and written in
her diary there. The place was gone now—burnt to the ground with the rest of the land around Hawthorne, but the memories—as old and faded as the objects that evoked them—were now crisp and clear. She sat on the bed, overwhelmed.

  “This means so much to me. More that I think you realize. This is—this is the best thing you could have given me. I feel like I’m home.”

  Trav smiled and held up his finger. “Oh, one more thing. Hang on.” He climbed off the bed and left the room. After a few minutes, he appeared in the doorway, eyeblack caked thickly around his icy eyes and smeared down his cheeks.

  Owl’s heart swelled. “Damn, honey, get back in bed with me!”

  Trav laughed. He sat on the edge of the bed and she twisted her fingers into his shirt, pulling him close and pressing her mouth to his. He put his hand to her face as she gently kissed his soft, full lips, flooded with different memories of abandoned buildings, hot desert roads, and sprouting seeds of romance.

  He pulled back, gazing at her. “You don’t need to do everything the Nisian way. You look mighty sexy in a dress and braid, but I want you to stay you. Wear some jeans and leather boots; decorate our house with Old World stuff. Don’t erase your culture on my account.” He frowned. “Does this feel a little better? Do you feel less homesick?”

  She looked around the room and smiled. “Yeah, I feel better. We don’t need to keep all of this stuff up in here, but this was really sweet. Thank you. I love you.”

  “I love you too.” He ran his large rough palm over the back of her hand. “I want you to be happy here. If something’s bothering you, please tell me. I feel bad that you were keeping all those feelings in.”

  “I am happy, especially with people accepting us more, embracing Aki… And all this Mainland stuff is the icing on the cake.”

  “Okay, now I need to wash this stuff off my face. I’m going over to Mothwing’s so he can help me finish building that damn cradle.”

  Owl smirked. “I’m not sure I want you to leave this bed yet.”

  “Oh no? You Mainlanders are turned on by the weirdest things.” He leaned into her, pushing her back on the mattress.

  She slid down in the sheets and pulled off her nightshirt. “Are you complaining?”

  “No.” Trav kicked off his pants and kissed her shoulder, her collarbone, and her chest, his loose hair teasing her skin. “I like you just the way you are.”

  January 16, 155—We finally finished the nursery and baby-proofed the house.

  February 03, 155—We went to a get-together at Quietbird’s this evening. Half the town was there. It’s so nice to see people joking and having a good time with Trav, and me too. And not just in a polite way, but genuinely enjoying our company. Aki and her parents were there. She looks like she’s doing great. People call her Daughter of Goldbud, but she seems like she’s okay with it. She knows quite a few more American words now.

  March 25, 155—Son of Seasalt was born today. He’s adorable. I’ve never seen Quietbird so happy.

  March 30, 155—Any day now! I’m nervous, but really eager to get this baby out of me. Trav is a wreck—asks me every day if I feel any contractions. Believe me, honey, you’ll know when it happens.

  “Anything yet?”

  Owl chuckled sleepily. “Not yet, darling.”

  He nuzzled her hair. “You know, everyone thinks the Mainland is the biggest adventure. They think we’re tougher than everyone else. But this”—he rubbed her huge belly—“this scares me much more than ruins and highwaymen.”

  She turned toward him, stroking his flaxen hair—his scent of dark woods and green riverbanks enveloping her. “You’re going to be a great dad. And we have all your cousins, Darksky, the whole island really. I can’t believe all the support we’ve had.”

  “You ready to get up?”

  “No. Lay here with me a little longer. We don’t have many quiet mornings left.”

  “Anything you want.” Trav smiled. “But I can barely hug you with the baby between us.”

  Owl rolled on her side and Trav slid his strong arms around her, stroking her belly.

  He kissed her neck. “Beautiful mother of my child.”

  She snuggled closer to him and sighed, pulling the sheets up around them as the sugary scent of the Stargazers drifted through the open window. “I love you.”

  “I love you too.”

  April 05, 155—Son of Owl was born early this morning. He’s beautiful. There was some initial surprise from everyone in the room when he came out because he’s as dark as a storm cloud. But Trav had no doubts that he was the father—he looks just like him. He takes after me some too, because he’s got a little tuft of brown hair instead of black. Quietbird’s family came to visit us this morning with Son of Seasalt in tow. Darksky showed up too. He held Son of Owl and smiled—actually smiled! He said if we need a break from the baby, to let him know and he’ll come right over. For such a sour guy, he sure likes being a grandad.

  Owl sat on the beach, cradling Son of Owl in one arm, his chubby, sleeping face illuminated with rosy light as the sun slipped below the horizon. Trav lay beside her, arms behind his head and face just as serene. She glided her fingers over her son’s silky brown curl of hair and gently kissed his forehead, intoxicated with his baby scent. Her heart swelled. This little boy was a part of her and a part of Trav. Though only two weeks old, she couldn’t imagine her life without him—as though she weren’t truly living before he existed.

  The rich green waves rollicked, throwing white foam into the pink sky. A ship floated on the distant horizon. One day their son would set out on a quest for his name, possibly on the Mainland. Would he walk the same roads as his father? The same roads as her?

  “Do you ever miss the Mainland?” she asked quietly, digging her toes into the soft, warm sand. “Those hot desert roads and dilapidated farmhouses and caravan merchants? And trashdogs?” She smirked.

  “No.” Trav didn’t open his eyes. “But there is a certain gas station where a very nervous, very high man shared his first kiss with a certain woman. That is a fond memory for me.” He sat up and grinned, the salty breeze blowing his blond hair around his head.

  “Me too.” Owl leaned in and Trav met her kiss halfway.

  He slid his spectacles onto his face, then gazed at their son. “What about you? Do you still miss it? Your home?”

  Owl paused. Bits of polished glass glittered in the light, and feathery palm fronds rocked slowly in the breeze. Beyond the beach, a small section of their house’s whale mural peeked through the trees. She stared into Trav’s magnified eyes, then kissed Son of Owl again.

  “This is my home.” She smiled.

  The story isn’t over yet!

  Chromeheart (Travelers Series: Book II), available on Amazon.

  Crows cawed from overhead and the wind whistled past Sasha’s ears, then a strange sound rose—something so low he felt it more than heard—a purring vibration, like machinery underwater. There was nothing but corn fields. Blue sky. Broken road.

  The sound grew louder. He scrunched his face and tilted his head. Walking to the road and looking in either direction offered him no clues. He put his hands on his hips.

  “What the hell is that?”

  The vibration rattled his chest and jarred his teeth. As he walked back to the truck, the sound increased. It was coming from the corn field. He squinted. Two reflective green disks, like alien moons, stared back. His mouth fell open, breath caught in his shuddering chest. He jerked at the door handle of the truck.

  Cornstalks parted and snapped as the creature within leaped. Sasha pulled open the door, but the tawny animal fell upon him, its purr now a high-decibel snarl. It resembled a massive panther, many wrinkles and velvet folds of loose skin spreading out from its face in undulating waves. Sasha was more concerned with its teeth. They were very large and sharp, framing a coarse, purple tongue. He thought his eardrums might break before anything else. At least he wouldn’t be able to hear himself scream.

  The ca
t’s pupils were long slits in the sun. It tilted its huge head and kneaded its paws into his arms, then pressed its drooling muzzle against his neck and sniffed.

  Follow Sasha on his own journey of self-betterment and find out what happens next!

  Available now.

  ~ About the Author ~

  Alia Hess grew up in the middle of the Idaho desert and spent their hour-long bus rides to and from school reading books on UFOs and the paranormal. As they grew older and developed a passion for art and writing, they never shook their love of the fantastic and unknown.

  They live with their son in the wastelands of America, keeping a close eye out for drones and trashdogs. When not hunched before a computer screen, Alia can be found hunched over their art desk.

  Alia enjoys post-apocalyptic novels, coffee, and eavesdropping on the character conversations in their head.

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