Moving With The Sun

by Nicki Huntsman Smith

  “I can help with that,” Jessie said. “I know about sucking gas with a hose. Pablo really hated doing it, but I don’t mind. There was an old man named Alfred who told us how to do the match test to tell if the gas still worked. He was the one who gave me Gandalf the Grey. I miss my kitten.”

  It was true that she missed her kitten, but she also knew mentioning it would make Tung more inclined to let her have her way. Sometimes it was okay to manipulate people if you were doing it for a good reason. Seeing Amelia was the best reason of all.

  Tung frowned. She acted like she didn’t notice, staring off into the woods on the other side of the duck pond. The crickets seemed louder when nobody was talking. Jessie counted twenty heartbeats before her mentor replied.

  “Fine. We’ll head out at daybreak. Now off to bed.”

  “I’ll sleep on the floor, Tung. I don’t mind. You and Harold can have the two beds.” She tried not to smile when she spoke. The other rule of manipulating people was not to be smug when you got your way.

  She felt happier than she had been in a long time. Tomorrow they would be driving to Florida and Amelia. She was so excited she doubted she would be able to fall asleep, but soon after her head touched the pillow on the floor, she began to dream normal-people dreams.

  Chapter 34 – Ingrid

  “Ingrid, I can’t even begin to say how sorry I am.”

  Rosemary sat on a patio chair next to Ingrid’s small vegetable garden. Lucas was beside her. Ingrid watched him focus on everything almost at once: the neatly trimmed lawn (Hector had been using one of those old manual push mowers), the martin houses perched on top of thirty-foot poles, the colorful lantana so loved by the hummingbirds, the newly planted seedlings, and finally on her own face which was carved in granite at the moment.

  She would not cry in front of this man.

  “Please start at the beginning.” The former police detective’s voice was as gentle as she had ever heard it. She didn’t care. Nothing would make her like him.

  “He left here before dawn, as was his habit. I had been trying to get him to move in with me, but he insisted on keeping his own home, for reasons that are none of your business. I expected him to return by lunchtime, so when he didn’t, I went to his house and found him. He was lying in the entryway. I think he had just arrived home when the killer...”

  “You don’t have to talk about that part. We’re just constructing a timeline which will be helpful when I begin questioning witnesses and potential suspects.”

  “It makes sense that the killer was there waiting for him to walk in the front door, as if he knew Hector’s routine. We’re old. We like to keep a schedule.”

  “Who would be out that early to even know his routine? Most people are still in bed asleep.”

  “Most young people are still in bed. Old people like us are up before the sun. We only sleep a few hours at a time. Bladder issues are one of the many inconveniences you youngsters may look forward to, if you’re lucky enough to become as old as we are. As old as I am, I mean.”

  “Ingrid, you’re only seventy, not ninety,” Rosemary said. “And you’re the spryest seventy-year-old I’ve ever known.”

  “Save your compliments for someone who needs them,” she said, then immediately regretted her rudeness. “I’m sorry, dear. Some of my less desirable old habits tend to resurface. Hector was helping me with that, you know. I wasn’t always the likable woman you see before you.” Her smile trembled; she pressed her lips together to make it stop. “I can’t imagine why anyone would want to kill him, of all people. Howard I can understand. He was a boor and an impediment to progress. I realize that sounds appalling, and I don’t care. That is another benefit of being old. You get to say whatever you want with impunity. Hector didn’t have an enemy in the world. Why him?”

  “It’s about the act itself, not the victim,” Lucas said. “I think he provided an easy opportunity. My guess is the killer had spotted him returning to his house on several occasions, tucked that information away for the future, and then utilized it when the need to kill could no longer be restrained. That’s how it is with serial killers, you know. It’s a compulsion. They can’t stop even if they want to, which they don’t. I’ve never interviewed one who had regrets or who would have done anything differently, other than not getting captured. That’s one of the reasons I enjoyed living in Louisiana. We had the death penalty there.”

  “These days I guess our only option is to slap their wrist and kick them out of the Colony. Sending someone away as punishment for murder is pathetic. The monster will simply migrate somewhere else and kill again. Hector deserves better. Unknown strangers deserve better.”

  “We decided this a long time ago. No capital punishment here. It’s barbaric,” Rosemary said.

  “Slicing the throat of one of the kindest men that ever lived and watching his blood pool on the floor of his own home is barbaric.”

  “You’re right. It’s beyond horrible. But this isn’t about homicidal maniacs. It’s about us as a society choosing a more civilized method for dealing with bad people than the way it used to be.”

  Ingrid felt all the fight drain out of her. She was not up to a battle with the Colony’s leader at the moment. She needed time to process what had happened and time to grieve. Then when Lucas caught the killer, she would be ready. She agreed with Rosemary in theory, but now that Hector was dead, the notion of his murderer walking away Scot-free wasn’t a notion she could stomach. And she wouldn’t. Rosemary was right about something else: Ingrid was spry. She was in excellent shape, not only in body, but mind and spirit as well. There would be a more appropriate reckoning than banishment when the time came.

  “Is there anything else you need from me? I’m very tired. I would like to go lie down.”

  “No, that’s all for now. If I have any more questions, I’ll let you know,” Lucas said. “Again, I’m very sorry. I will catch the person responsible. You have my word.”

  His tone was grim and determined. She nodded her approval.

  The rest of the afternoon, she puttered about her cavernous home. A black hole seemed to be expanding in her chest, sucking away all the good emotions she had been experiencing since becoming romantically involved with Hector. Had she been in love with him? Probably not. She enjoyed his company and also the taboo aspect of their love affair – it had felt naughty and exciting.

  It didn’t matter now anyway whether she had been in love with him. He was gone, and she would get on with her life, just as she had after every other heartbreaking episode in her life these past seventy years.

  Ingrid was a survivor. She would be fine – sooner than most after enduring such a loss – and the sooner the better. She had two missions now: convince people that her hurricane vision was to be believed and acted upon, and avenge Hector’s death. She found some minor, twisted pleasure at the thought of the second task. Focusing on revenge would ease her grief. She smiled, imagining the surprise on the killer’s face at the sight of her loaded revolver. As she lay in bed, she reached a hand out and slid open the drawer of the bedside table. Her fingers touched the reassuring metal. She tried not to think about the empty space next to her.

  It was early evening and the sun had yet to set, but she found herself getting drowsy. Within a few minutes her eyes closed against the golden sunlight streaming in through the sheer curtains.

  Soon she was dreaming of surging waves and cloaked assassins.

  Chapter 35 – Rosemary and Amelia

  “Hi, Amelia. I’m sorry to barge in like this, but there’s something I have to tell you.”

  Rosemary stood in the open doorway of Amelia’s condo. Kenny had moved in next door and stood in the hallway, watching the two women with interest.

  “Can I join the party?” he said.

  The Colony’s leader studied the young face, noting the intelligent eyes behind the Clark Kent glasses. She thought about everything this kid must have gone through and the recent loss of his best friend. Tyle
r probably wasn’t dead. Perhaps he was even enjoying his sailing adventure with Zoey, but the truth was they didn’t know. Kenny would never learn what had become of his friend.

  “Sure, Kenny.”

  Amelia frowned. Rosemary saw concern on the face of the tiny woman as she ushered them into her living room.

  Rosemary took a deep breath. “Lucas and I were in the watchtower and we saw a large man...very large...capturing Fergus as he was attempting to leave the mainland. His kayak was hidden in some dense brush near the water. We think he must have finished his assignment and was trying to come home. We’re speculating, of course, but that’s what it looked like to us. I’m sorry.”

  Amelia shook her head. “I knew something was up,” she muttered to herself.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Nothing. What’s the plan then?”

  “You mean a rescue? I haven’t come up with anything yet. It’s been a crazy day, what with Hector’s murder. I was on my way to talk to you earlier about Fergus when I heard Ingrid’s screams.”

  “How long ago was that?”

  “Several hours.”

  “There’s not much time, then.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean I’m going over there to get him.”

  “Don’t be impulsive. The last thing we want is to lose you too.”

  “Yes, I’m sure that’s true. I’m the only person here with medical knowledge.”

  “That’s harsh.”

  “But true.”

  “We don’t want to lose you – or anyone else, for that matter. Please, sit down.”

  The small woman reluctantly sat on the yellow sofa.

  “Give me twenty-four hours to come up with a strategy. That’s all I ask.”

  “Fergus could be dead in twenty-four hours.”

  “Fergus could be dead now. Either way, would he want you to come charging to his rescue and get yourself captured or killed too?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Then give me the time.”

  “Very well.”

  “I mean it. Don’t do anything on your own. Going against a direct order could lead to banishment.”

  Amelia snorted in disdain, then said, “I won’t. Now please leave and get to work on a plan. I need to think.”

  A minute later Rosemary stood by the ocean, basking in the salty breeze that cooled her skin, watching the sun inches away from plunging into the turquoise water.

  She loved this place. She would do whatever necessary to keep it and her people safe, even if it meant pissing off Amelia, to whom she had become attached. She was fond of Fergus as well. She would tackle the logistics of planning a rescue mission in between helping Lucas identify their murderer, working on the details of their hurricane evacuation plan, and keeping people from going hungry. It was a lot for one person’s plate, but fortunately for the Colonists, there was no better person for the job. Rosemary was a consummate multi-tasker. It had been a crucial talent in her former life.

  ***

  “I know that face,” Kenny said with a grin after Rosemary left. “That face is telling a different story than the one you gave Rosemary.”

  “I agreed that I wouldn’t do anything on my own, and I’m not going to do anything on my own. You’re going to help me.”

  “Damn straight, shortcake. What’s the plan?”

  Chapter 36 – Fergus

  Fergus heard a mouse-like tap on the locked door of The Box. He had been dozing, or rather a combination of dozing and something like astral projection. When he opened his eyes, there was no discernible light. His claustrophobic cube-shaped world was utterly dark; he might have been wearing a dozen sleeping masks. Or perhaps just one coated with Vantablack, the most opaque pigment ever invented. It was so black, it gobbled up laser light and flattened reality.

  He shook his head to clear his thoughts. His mind was wandering again.

  Following the tap, he heard the clink of the deadbolt lock. He squeezed his eyelids together, knowing how painful even subdued light would be to his dilated pupils.

  Through the thin flesh of his eyelids, he saw the inky blackness lighten to something not so all-consuming. He kept one eye tightly shut and allowed the other eyelid to open a millimeter...then two millimeters, until the light was tolerable.

  “How are you doing in there, little man?” Lester’s deep voice was a whisper.

  “I’ve been choking the chicken more than usual. That’s what too much free time will do for you.”

  The bass chuckle made him smile. “How long have I been in here?”

  “How long does it feel like?”

  “About two weeks, so it’s probably only been three or four days.”

  “Very good. It’s been ninety-three hours.”

  “How much longer, Lester?” He was pleased that his own whisper sounded steady and strong, not the shaky, weak voice of a beaten man...or a lunatic.

  “Aubrey says at least another day or two. She’s conflicted about you. She was disappointed that you tried to leave. The only reason you weren’t executed is because she’s taken a liking to you.”

  “With friends like her...” he said. “Well, I suppose I should be flattered.”

  “You should be. Aubrey doesn’t like many people.”

  “Psychopaths rarely do.”

  “I’m taking a chance by checking on you like this. It’s not technically against the rules, but it’s understood that for maximum suffering, people in The Box have no outside contact. How are those Ritz crackers holding up?”

  “Holding up or plugging up? I’m happy to report that I haven’t had to use the bucket for number two since I checked in. I plan to give this place a scathing review on Travelocity, by the way. The view sucks, the maids have yet to change the bed linens, and room service never answers the phone.”

  “You’ll be fine. Just imagine you’re somewhere pleasant...a mountain meadow filled with wildflowers...a white sand beach at sunset. Wherever is your happy place.”

  “It’s hilarious hearing the Incredible Hulk talk about happy places.”

  “I’ve been in The Box before. I know what works.”

  “Really? I’m surprised. I thought you were Aubrey’s right-hand giant.”

  “I am, but Zoey doesn’t like me. I expect her back any time now. I admit I’ve enjoyed her absence.”

  “How could someone not like you? You’re delightful.”

  “Agreed. I think she’s jealous of the regard in which her sister holds me.”

  “Ah, I see. I’m not eager to meet the twin, then. Is she a psychopath as well?”

  Of course he had met Zoey and knew the answer; Amelia had verified it. He wished he could tell his friend that he didn’t have to worry about the young woman returning to vex him in the future.

  “Yes. She has even less humanity than her sister. The...contents...of the meat freezer – that was Zoey’s idea.”

  “So for all your ‘meat is meat’ rhetoric, you don’t embrace the notion?”

  “Between you and me, I’m still on the fence, regardless of how I wax philosophical on the subject.”

  “Interesting.” Fergus smiled in the dark.

  “Just hang in there, my tiny friend. And stay frosty.” An oversized hand reached through the doorway and tapped the lowest pocket near the knee of Fergus’s cargo shorts. The next moment the door closed, the deadbolt clinked into place, and he was again consumed by blackness.

  “Stay frosty,” Fergus mumbled to himself, puzzling over the meaning of the words as well as the gesture acknowledging the overlooked knife. Was Lester expecting trouble? What was happening out there in Costco world? He hadn’t had time to ask about Annabelle. He knew she would be safe as long as she was under Lester’s care, but he would still fret.

  The apocalypse was no place for children, no matter how bright and self-reliant.

  Chapter 37 – Jessie

  “Go ahead and do the test, Jessie,” Tung said. “I’m optimistic. This tim
e it doesn’t smell like turpentine, which is a good sign.”

  The three travelers stood beside a Ford Explorer, gazing at a puddle of gasoline. They were on a stretch of highway just north of Marietta, Georgia. When Tung had taken the exit for Interstate 75 south toward Atlanta instead of north toward Pigeon Forge, Jessie breathed a big sigh of relief. It was really happening. They were going to visit Amelia and they would arrive the next day if the match test was successful. It was the seventh such test so far. The needle on the Jeep’s gauge was below the quarter mark, so they must find gas soon. She wished with all her might that the puddle would ignite quickly and burn cleanly, rather than produce oily black smoke and leave behind a sooty residue.

  She gave Harold a hopeful look. He smiled back, still holding the siphon hose. She pulled the Bullwinkle’s Rustic Lodge matchbook from the pocket of her jean shorts. They had grabbed a few because they would come in handy, and also because she loved looking at the cartoon moose on the cover.

  “Here goes!” She tossed the lit match.

  Even Tung shouted happily at the sight of the clear flames. The tank was almost full; the bodies inside were ignored. There was no need to disturb the dead.

  Jessie always got sad when she saw bodies, but this time she was so excited about going to Florida, she didn’t stay sad for long.

  An hour later they were back on I75 after skirting Macon on secondary roads. She hummed the song that Pablo, Maddie, and Amelia had made up on the drive out of Arizona two years ago. She was so happy, she began singing the lyrics Pablo had written. He said they were cheesy but she didn’t agree. She thought they were quite nice.

  If I said I was certain she’s waiting

  You’d know I was lying for sure

  But I feel all my sorrows abating

  I can sense that our love will endure

  So I packed up this rusty old Chevy

  I gave my two weeks to the Man

  My heart no longer feels heavy