Oh. Coru was slow on the pick-up, but not that slow. This Quinton, the hair puller, had … And he had killed that man. Satisfaction spread through his chest. “He’s dead now. She can move on.”
“Yes.” Catherine replied, exchanging glances with Mattea. It seemed there was doubt in their minds.
“I did kill him,” Coru insisted. “She is safe now.”
Catherine smiled at him sadly. “If only it were that simple.” She turned and walked back into the farmhouse.
Mattea looked at him strangely. “Where are you from, Coru?”
The question Coru had been dreading.
He turned back to the horse. “I’ve traveled a great distance. My home is not like yours. There is no…” he glanced at the farmhouse then back to the horse. “Where I come from, these things do not occur. I am sorry I was insensitive. I was not aware…”
There was a long silence as Mattea considered his answer. After a moment, it appeared he had accepted it at face value, as he always did. Mattea was a simple man in that way. This made Mattea a good traveling companion.
Coru’s attention was drawn again to the horse.
The big bay gazed at him with huge liquid brown eyes, eyes Coru imagined held wisdom and patience, and it seemed to him, there was a connection between them. Back home there was no opportunity to feel the soft, velvety nose of this huge, warm blooded, magnificent animal before him, all powerful muscle covered in sleek, glossy hair. The horse blinked and dropped its head to the grass and began grazing on the rich greenery at their feet. Coru was surprised at the sound the horse made as it ate. It was much louder than he’d have imagined, the sound of snuffling, of strong teeth pulling, tearing at the grass with a jerk of its huge head, followed by the muffled, hollow sound of grinding teeth before swallowing, and returning to more snuffling and tearing. This sound inexplicably filled him with joy so profound, he felt shaky with it. This was a real, living and breathing animal before him. Reverently, he ran his hands along the bay’s side, absorbing, memorizing smooth warmth over powerful muscle, then pressed his cheek against its ribs and closed his eyes, feeling air being drawn in and out of the horse’s body. If only Payton were here to experience this with him. Back in WEN 2341, a horse was as mythical as a unicorn. His eyes grew damp at knowing what this magnificent creature faced at the hands of men.
Mattea cleared his throat. Coru remembered himself, and stepped away, struggling to hide his show of emotion.
“You never been near a horse before?”
Coru couldn’t help smiling. “Does it show?”
Mattea shrugged. “You aren’t the first green white guy I’ve met.”
“Green white guy?”
Mattea shook his head and smirked. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’d dropped outta the sky one day from a different planet.”
Wary of how close Mattea’s guess had come to his actual origins, Coru made a show of chuckling and said, “Another planet. Right,” then grew serious, changing the subject. “You’ll show me how to ride?”
“I’ll have to if you’re stuck on riding instead of walking.”
“We can’t leave these animals to starve. Or to be eaten.” The leavings from roving gangs of survivors told a story, an often appalling one. It seemed many had started with their domestic animals, moved onto pets, tried with some success with wild animals, and when that wasn’t a skill they were able to develop, some had turned on one another. He shuddered at recalling some of the campsites he and Mattea had come across in their drive north to Rushton.
When he’d regained consciousness after jumping through the Time Bore, he’d seen almost at once Zhang’s presence here had been catastrophic. Worse–he had arrived alone. There was no sign of Payton, no way to know if he’d survived the jump, or if he’d landed in another time or location. Nothing. Frantically, for days, Coru had searched, but found no evidence his brother had landed with him.
Finally, he’d been forced to stop searching, knowing his chances of finding Payton now were practically nonexistent. Abandoning the landing area to find the nearest town according to his SPD left Coru filled with dread, and his brain burning with visions of Payton hurt and alone, possibly dying somewhere here in WEN 2036, unequipped to defend himself, unable to make it on his own. Already, he’d broken his promise to his father. Still, he had to find Wren Wood. It’s what Payton would be doing in his place. He had no other choice – if he didn’t find Wren Wood – millions of lives would be sacrificed.
When Coru eased into the nearest town, a town called Hope, he’d been horrified by the destruction that had come with Zhang’s presence in this time, heartsick at what had become of the people because of one of his own. How could civilization fall so hard and so quickly? How was it possible?
Then he’d learned he had arrived in WEN 2046, not WEN 2036. He was ten years too late!
Zhang had had ten years to spread his influence, and somehow his presence had introduced a devastating disease in the process, decimating the population. Coru despaired at witnessing the destruction that came with the disease. First the breakdown of law and order, then the emergence of clawing, desperate people. They fought for their loved ones, then fought for themselves then finally, the ones left behind fought amongst themselves for scraps to survive. Civilization was slammed back into the dark ages in a matter of weeks. If he hadn’t witnessed it himself, he wouldn’t have believed a civilized world could fall apart so quickly and so completely.
Whether it was because Cyprian and Keyes had made a fatal error in their calculations, or because the Time Bore was too damaged, the reason didn’t matter, he and Payton had been separated. There were so many possibilities, so many incalculable variables. Coru had been delivered to WEN 2046. Payton might have arrived in the year WEN 2036 as scheduled, or in WEN 2046 but at another location, or sometime or place in between. He might never know where and when Payton was. Was there any chance of either of them returning home now? Was there even a home to return to?
And Wren Wood. Everything changed there as well. She would no longer be a teen, attending high school in Vancouver, spending her summers up north in Rushton with her father and grandmother. Back on Cloud Rez, Payton had calculated that Wren was their ticket to Charles Wood, citing Charles’s recorded claims that his daughter Wren had inspired his greatest scientific triumph, that being the Terrepellor Formulation. Cloud Rez’s entire structure was based on the Terrepellor Formulation. Without Charles Wood’s discovery, there was no Cloud Rez.
In WEN 2046, Wren would be twenty-five, an adult now, but with Zhang on the scene, would she still have escaped into the forest to live in peace as Payton had foreseen, or would her life path have changed? Had she been an inspiration to her father, leading to his greatest discovery before the pandemic that had decimated the earth’s population, or had history been changed irrevocably, and Charles Wood’s greatest work was never achieved? The enormity of the error was almost overwhelming. A ten-year mistake! What chance did he have of finding Wren Wood alive here in WEN 2046? Had Payton already found her? Had he found and stopped Zhang?
Coru wagged his head in doubt. Payton was so young, so soft. Did he have it in him to challenge the clever Zhang on his own?
If Payton had found and challenged Zhang, why had this world still been decimated with a disease that should never have happened? No, Coru had to allow the idea Payton had not intervened back in WEN 2036, if he did make it to WEN 2036, and it was now up to Coru to make things right. Could he still make this right? He had to believe that he could.
The image of Payton’s young face appeared in his mind’s eye, his last expression of eager anticipation still there. What happened to you little brother? Was this the adventure you’d hoped for?
He switched to his father’s face, wondering what he was doing right now. Was he still transferring everyone in WEN 2341 from Cloud Rez down to Surface as planned? Would there be enough time? If Cloud Rez could not be saved, the Cloud Rez citizens were in for a huge awakening
to the realities of life on Surface—where of course, they had no abilities to survive … They’d learn, if they wanted to live. He knew from experience, from walking in their shoes, that Surface Folk had no appetite to help those who had subjugated them for years. He groaned softly, picturing the two societies meeting face to face, all advantages the Cloud Rez population enjoyed lost to the Surface Folk. It would be ugly.
Still. He was here, with a mission he had to believe could make a difference. He had to go on faith alone that by finding Wren Wood he could save the future. He had to believe his brother was correct about this much at least. He would find Wren Wood, alive, and through Wren he’d get to Charles Wood and restore the future. He scrubbed at his face, monstrously weary.
“There you go again, with your deep thoughts.” Mattea’s level voice broke his reverie. “Want to share?”
Seeing Mattea’s face, Coru knew he’d drifted away again. He had to stop doing that. He pasted a happy expression on his face. “Not today,” he replied, his voice hoarse with emotion, belying his cheerful expression. He’d have to get better at this.
Mattea studied him. “You’re walking around with something heavy. Sharing the load can help.”
Mattea always talked like this, with an almost musical lilt to his words. Coru liked listening to him. And Mattea saw things, things Coru couldn’t hide, so Coru gave up the charade. It wasn’t working anyway. Mattea had been good to him, had taken him on without question, and had remained at his side these many weeks. A truer companion Coru had never had. “Not this one, my friend. This is mine to carry.”
“Are you in love with this girl, Wren Wood?”
This was a surprise. “No. I don’t even know her. I just know what she looks like …” He slowed, realizing another truth. “Or, what she used to looked like ... years ago. And where in time she should be.” He stopped, aware he’d just made a huge error. Had Mattea heard his mistake? He should have said he was in love with her, it was a more believable story than the truth. “I mean, where she likely lives now that everything has …” He trailed off, uncertain what to say to cover his gaff.
Mattea gazed at him in surprise. “Then what’s the big push to find her? You have to share at least that much.”
It seemed Mattea had missed his stumble. Coru ran his palm across his scalp, aware of the huge differences between himself and Mattea, born hundreds of years apart. Mattea was an open book, his russet skin clear, his dark eyes kind, his straight black hair flowing down his back, while Coru was stoic, secretive, his expression closed, his bald head tattooed with strange symbols. Mattea was lean and muscular, a long distance runner, built for speed, while Coru was bulky and strong, built for force. Mattea was at home in the forest, with nature, while Coru marveled at everything he saw, constantly enthralled with the unspoiled beauty of the past, knowing it was all destined, one day, to be ruined. It hurt his soul to know this would all be destroyed. How could he tell his friend what the future held?
And there was no denying they had become friends–starting when Mattea saved his life. He owed the man so much more than he was giving him in return. “I know this isn’t fair. I know being mysterious is ludicrous in this situation …” He looked imploringly at Mattea. “I can’t tell you my mission. I don’t know how that knowledge might change everything about your life, might even hurt you. I’m not trying to be withholding, but protective.” He turned away and gazed unseeing at the house, then turned back toward Mattea. “If I were you, I wouldn’t accept this either. But can you, despite me keeping things from you, stick with me? I need you.”
Mattea’s dark eyes were kind, his voice soft, “You do know she’s probably dead, right?”
He hoped to God Mattea was wrong. “I’ll tell you this much. I’ve got to believe she’s alive, that she has the answers.” He spread his arms wide and looked all around them. “To all of this. Wren Wood can literally save what’s left of this planet, if we can find her in time. This will sound crazy, but Wren Wood is the most important human being left on this earth. We absolutely must find her.”
Mattea stared back at him for a long moment, deciding, Coru could see, if he was willing to go along for the ride. “All right,” he said at last. “I’ll take you on your word for now. Finding Wren Wood is job one. But one day, and soon, you will explain this all to me.” He indicated the horses grazing out in the field. “And you’re right. It’s people who will harm these animals, not the lack of food. They won’t starve, there’s plenty of grass to last for many months. When winter comes–that’s another thing altogether. These aren’t wild horses, they’re domestic, used to being cared for. They might make it through the winter, but probably not.”
“There are wild horses?”
“Yup. In the bush; they tend to be smaller and band together. Safety in numbers. They’re skittish as hell and can kill you with a well-placed kick. You want to avoid them. By taking these horses, and caring for them, we are doing them a kindness.
“We’re lucky to have found them now we have the women and the boy.” Mattea pursed his lips and looked down at his feet. “Nicola can’t walk anymore, that’s plain to see. The boy, Malcolm is exhausted. Catherine is tough, and willing to keep up, but she’ll burn out long before Rushton. And Annie …” He trailed off. “That Annie’s a quiet one and I’m not sure about her, but she’s a trooper. The horses are a gift.
“I’ll give everyone a crash course on horsemanship, and we’ll start out first thing tomorrow, going slowly. I’ll keep this one. He’s gentle and he’s strong, big enough for Nicola to ride with me until she can function on her own. Catherine will ride with Malcolm. There’s a pretty little mare that’s perfect for Annie and a big black that will do for you. He looks to be strong but malleable, good for an inexperienced rider. We’ll be able to bring four others to carry food and supplies and switch out riders. Barring incident, we should reach Rushton in a matter of days instead of weeks.”
Coru looked at Mattea, allowing his doubts to show. “What will we find in Rushton?”
Mattea shrugged. “We’ll know when we get there.”
“You’re right.” Coru took in a big breath and blew it out. “What can I do to help?”
“Telling me the truth would be a start.” Mattea held up his hands in defense at Coru’s reaction. “I know, I know. I’m a patient guy. I can wait. For today, we capture, outfit and learn to ride horses.”
NICOLA OPENED HER EYES, saw pale blue curtains ruffling overhead, a pleasant rush of warm air flowing across her skin, with full sun flooding the room. It felt good. She should get up, she supposed, but she was so very sleepy. Was David alright in his bed? Should she go check on him? She closed her eyes to rest a moment before forcing herself to get up and make coffee. Their father expected his coffee hot and strong in the morning, and there would be hell to pay if it wasn’t there, at the ready by seven-fifteen, sharp. She’d get up and make it… In just a minute...
AS PLANNED, their group moved out shortly after dawn the next day, with Coru on the big black in the lead, Catherine and Malcolm in second place, followed by the endlessly-sullen Annie, then the rider-less horses. Mattea was mounted on the big bay and was last, with Nicola seated on the saddle ahead of him, her full weight, which wasn’t much, pliant against him. Coru glanced back along the line, checking, before he led them into the forest as his antiquated satellite positioning devise directed them. Fortunately, there were many animal trails to follow and still remain mostly true to the SPD directions. Here in the forest, they had a better chance of traveling undetected. All things going their way, they could be in Rushton in less than three days.
Letting his horse have its head, Coru allowed himself to look around, to absorb his surroundings. It was so incredibly beautiful here, he could weep. Rich brown, thick, deeply ribbed trunks of fir and pine, and the finer textured silver trunks of birch and poplar surrounded them on all sides. Fluttering leaves caused the sunlight to wink in and out along the path. Birds twittered, flitting from tree
to tree. The muffled plotting of horse hooves coupled with their calm behavior was steady and reassuring.
Glossy leaved shrubs with delicate white and pink blossoms filled in here and there in the forest. Wild raspberries sprang up everywhere–this he knew from Catherine. She’d pointed out wild roses as well, when he’d asked about the rich perfume that filled the air. It was from the wild prairie roses, she’d explained. The place was alive with spring run-off. Their party had already crossed dozens of sparkling streams trickling over rounded stones cloaked with fine textured, pale green mosses, the water no doubt making its way toward some river or lake.
Knowing all this would all be destroyed was like a blade through his chest. He wanted so badly to grab any human being he met and shake them – hard, make them wake up and look around themselves, see what they had. He thought of his years of dismantling corroded pipelines, of corralling mountains of toxic waste, of planting thousands upon thousands of pine seedlings on barren lands in an attempt to return the earth to its natural state. Were they dreaming in WEN 2341? Was it even possible to regain what had been so thoughtlessly destroyed and lost? Would the world ever look and sound and feel like this again?
Looking around himself, he saw just how far they would have to go in WEN 2341 to get even a start at recovering the earth. This, here, was what it was supposed to be; WEN 2341’s reclamations looked nothing like this.
The path they were following opened onto a small clearing, with a beaver pond at its center. As they rode past, he noted the surrounding gnawed tree stumps, and the huge mound in the middle of the pond, where the beavers sheltered in safety. They were clever little beasts. Tall grasses and young saplings had sprung up all around the pond, with a controlled trickling of water trailing into the woods. Tall velvety bull rushes marched along the path of the water. These rushes and the marshes in which they thrived were so valuable in filtering and cleaning water, in land recovery. He’d studied them in science books, where it was stated people once thought of them as an obnoxious weed, not appreciating at the time how vital they were in clearing up waterways. He had never seen them in person. To a newcomer from a ruined future, they looked magnificent. What Surface workers wouldn’t give for a chance to grow them in WEN 2341.
Lost Sentinel: Post-Apocalyptic Time Travel Adventure (Earth Survives Series Book 1) Page 8