“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean—.”
“Don’t you even start,” Catherine said bustling around to the other side of the bed, climbing in and gathering her into her arms. “Welcome back, my dear.” Catherine was warm and soft and her strength surrounded Wren with surety and comfort. Wren gave into that comfort.
Sandy squeezed in on the other side, creating a Wren sandwich. She whispered, “We are so, so glad to see you awake. You gave us a terrible scare.”
Why were they so happy? Why were they not… She couldn’t wrap her head around this scene. She made herself ask the question that burned in her brain. “Did — did you bury them without me?”
Catherine pulled back. “What in heaven’s name are you talking about?”
“Deklin.” Wren’s eyes flooded the moment she said his name. “Nicola…?”
“My goodness.” Catherine wiped at Wren’s tears with soft fingers and she and Sandy exchanged puzzled looks. The door swung open and Bill appeared, looking over the top of his reading glasses which had slipped to the tip of his nose, the herbal book tucked under one arm.
Wren choked out, “Bill!”
His eyebrows shot up his forehead. “Wren!” he replied with a chuckle. “Long time no see.”
“But, but I saw you die. You were shot…”
Now they all looked at one another with that strange expression.
Coru said, “You’ve been sick, Wren. You stepped on a nail—it went right through your boot. You didn’t say anything, you didn’t take care, and you got blood poisoning. You almost lost your foot. Thank goodness Randy was here.”
Wren struggled to sit up. Sandy was off the bed and helping her. “Not right out of bed. Too soon for that,” she cautioned, though her face told of her happiness Wren was interested at all.
“So, everyone is alright. No one died?”
They exchanged glances again, worried now.
What was going on? What was she missing?
Bill asked, “Did you hear the shooting? We thought you were out for all that excitement.”
“What excitement? Where’s Deklin? Nicola? They’re okay?”
Sandy sat down beside her again. “Everyone is okay, honey. Coru was scouting and came upon a group of Outlanders gathering up by the mudslide. He slipped away, warned us in time. We set up a trap. We got them all — and none of the family was hurt. We thought you were out for that.”
“There were nine, right? Then three more? And … then one, alone.”
Their faces grew somber. Catherine asked, “You know this?” Abruptly her countenance changed. “Okay, everyone out. I need to talk to Wren privately.”
Wren watched her eyes skip to Coru’s and away, but not before a message had been passed between them. “This is all too much for the poor girl. Sandy, you heat up some of that broth and make some tea.” Her eye skidded to Bill. “And no, you cannot experiment with your latest concoction on poor Wren. She needs soup, tea, and rest. So out, all of you.”
The others filed from the room. Catherine closed the door firmly behind them, then fussed a bit with Wren’s covers before bringing her gaze up to meet Wren’s. “Can’t you read my thoughts, Wren?” she asked tentatively.
Wren stretched out her mind. And heard nothing. Puzzled, she tried again, this time out in the great room, trying first Coru — she connected easily with Coru — and heard nothing. Then Bill, his thoughts usually so easily slipped into. Then Sandy’s sweet mind. Nothing.
She gripped Catherine’s proffered hand. “Nothing,” she managed to say. “It’s all a blank. It’s like my shield is sealed closed.”
Catherine nodded, her expression regretful. “That’s what we’ve all suspected. Without you, we can’t hear one another anymore. It’s like the whole system went down when you got sick. Our borrowed ability is gone.”
Wren slumped back. Here was her greatest wish, finally granted. She was at last like everyone else — a normal girl. She smiled slightly. “I’ve prayed for this moment most of my life. Now that I have it … Well …”
Catherine grimaced. “Be careful what you wish for?”
“Something like that.”
Catherine squeezed her hand. “We’ll have to resort to a secret decoder ring or something.”
Wren frowned at her, puzzled.
Catherine let go of her hand with a final pat. “Well before your time, my dear. The good news is, it was old fashioned scouting that caught the Outlanders in time, letting us put into action all our practicing. You would have been proud. You should know the kids were wonderful. Sandy and I had them up to the secret pond in a blink. Then she and I came back and we all took up stations. It worked beautifully. Not one got away — no one to spread the word we’re here. I have to say, I feel a whole lot better about you going to Freeland now that I know we can take care of ourselves without your early warning system.”
“Freeland?”
Catherine stopped. “You’ve never heard of Freeland?”
Wren smiled. “Of course, I’ve heard of it. It’s just — the trip’s still on?”
“Yes. As soon as you’re strong enough. Coru wouldn’t hear of leaving without you.”
“But, I can’t scan for danger now.”
“Deklin won’t go without you either.”
Wren’s eyes filled with grateful tears at hearing Deklin’s name. “I so love that boy.”
There was a tap on the door, then Sandy came in with a tray, her honey blonde hair caught up in a messy bun, her fair skin flushed with happiness. “You have no idea how happy I am you’ll finally be eating,” she told Wren. “You’re wasting away.”
Wren realized abruptly she was starving. Joy, excitement, gratitude, love, impatience — all bounded through her. She wanted up, out; she wanted sunshine and fresh air and a walk with Hero and to pull weeds from the garden, to reach under a hen and find a warm egg, to saddle up a horse and ride the trails, to hug a tree and absorb its energy, to sip tea on the front porch with Nicola, to rub Olivia’s Mommy tummy. She wanted her life back. She needed to be strong again. Wiping her face, she asked. “What’s on the menu?”
Catherine answered, “Absolutely anything you want.”
CORU WAITED on Wren as long as he dared, always keeping in mind the explore team’s return trip to D.O.A. — without him. Just the idea set him on edge. His heart was here with his D.O.A. family. He wanted them home safe before the snow flew.
They set out for Freeland the last week of July. Wren was still thin, almost waif-like, if he were honest, and that worried him, but she insisted she was ready. She was strong enough to set an arrow where she meant it to go, and she could hit a target with a rifle as well, though he knew she disliked the noise it made, preferring the stealth of her bow. She would drive Beastette with Deklin, as planned, with he and Mattea manning the Beast up front. Now the day of departure was here, he noticed her hesitation when she approached Beastette. This was not the fearless Wren he’d come to know and lo… To know.
Okay, he’d pushed too hard — she wasn’t ready. He took her by the arm and led her around to the side of the cabin, where they could be alone. She’d looked up at him, puzzled.
“Tell me the truth, Wren. Something’s not right. I can see it in your face, even if I can’t read it in your thoughts anymore. Be honest. If you need more time, you have more time.”
Surprised, he saw she was embarrassed and Wren was never embarrassed.
“I’m good. Really. It was just seeing Deklin in Beastette.”
He frowned and shook his head, not understanding.
“When I was sick, I thought … I thought a ton of crazy stuff. Sandy told me when I was out of it I was talking nonsense, having feverish delusions. The images, the experience was so real that when I woke up, I was convinced Deklin, Nicola, Bill … Olivia. And others.” Her eyes misted over and she bit back her lips to stop them from wobbling, and swallowed, took a moment before she continued. “Whatever they were, in my head we were attacked. I felt
our people die. I was inside their heads when they died.
“I was … inside Deklin’s head when he died. It happened in my dreams on the day we were getting ready to leave, just like today. He was strapped into Beastette when it happened.” Her voice cracked. “Seeing him strapped in today, wearing the same shirt, holding the same action figure as in my dream was like a thousand tiny sharp icicles rained over me, a kind of rippling dread spreading everywhere, changing me into… It felt…” She shook her head. “I can’t describe it. There are no words for how it felt.”
“Blood poisoning is no picnic. It’ll get better. Time will take care of the nightmares, and you’ll forget all about them. I’m sorry to push you into traveling so soon, to make you come out of D.O.A. with us. If there were any other way.”
“There isn’t. And, it turns out I was delusional and everyone is fine — it was all a mistake. Thank God for that.”
He eased her into his arms, something he’d never done before, and rubbed her back, aware his time with Wren Wood was fast coming to a close. With his chin on her head, he echoed, “Thank God for that.”
After a moment of hesitation, she wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him back. This felt right; Wren in his arms, where she belonged. When he’d jumped through the Bore, he’d never imagined he’d grow to love the woman he sought, and love her world more than his own. And now he had to leave her, these people, family now and this world... His feelings, his ideas about life were so different. He longed to tell her all this, needed to know if she felt the same and had no right.
Confession would only cause pain. They each had their own path to follow. His was back in WEN 2341, working Surface, hers was here in WEN 2047, protecting and guiding her gathered family through these uncertain times.
If he knew she felt as he did, could he then walk away, could he go back to his own world without her? He knew he would; he had no choice. Millions were counting on him. It wasn’t only his heart he needed to protect, he had to think of Wren’s heart. Knowing would only make it harder. Best not to know.
She cleared her throat and stepped back. “So, we’re good to go?
He nodded once. “We’re good to go.”
The hugs of other goodbyes were emotional affairs, as he knew he wasn’t just leaving for a few weeks, but forever. He was doing well, keeping his expression jolly, looking forward to an adventure, blending in. No one suspected. It was good. That was before Dan had laughingly gripped him in a bear hug, complaining he was getting too fat on Catherine’s sourdough bread. Here’s where his self-control nearly toppled. Dan Thacker had been more a father to him here on D.O.A., had taught him more about life, about survival, and more about what it meant to be a man than his own father had in his twenty-six years on Cloud Rez.
How could he walk away? He started to lose it, unravel.
Wren slipped her hand into his and squeezed it. She teased Dan, “Okay, your number one grease monkey has an adventure ahead of him. Don’t keep him from it.”
Dan laughed. “I’ll have plenty for you to do when you get back.” His words were like a blow to Coru’s chest, leaving a ball of ache. Dan turned to Mattea. “And you too. I’m thinking a smoke hut this time—let’s get serious about this, why don’t we?”
Still gripping his hand, Wren pulled him away from Dan toward the Trannies, asking him if he could see anything they’d missed. The distraction worked. Coru snapped out of his emotional self-indulgence and focused on the journey ahead. They had a long way to go, an important task to perform, and now, three weeks less of summer to do it in.
The first leg of their trip went without incident and they reached Sandy’s Prepper hideout in Dawson Creek in plenty of time to hide away before first light. They left the food Catherine and Sandy had prepared for them and selected one of the M.R.E.s this guy had hundreds of.
Coru opened his and looked at it doubtfully. “What does M.R.E. stand for?”
Mattea answered, “Meals Ready to Eat.”
They hunkered down and began eating.
Deklin was the first to quit. “Not hungry,” he announced, the expression on his face reflecting exactly how they all felt about the offering.
“Enough.” Mattea stood, took the packs out of each of their hands and tossed them into the garbage, and retrieved their D.O.A. food package. “M.R.E.” he chuckled. “Three lies in one. Not a meal, not ready to eat and not eatable.”
Other than the dubious M.R.E.s the place was loaded with valuable supplies, a prepper’s dream, and they vowed they would be visiting the place on the return trip, for sure.
Coru went along, not reminding them he wouldn’t be among them when this happened.
Day two found them outside of Chetwynd, a good number of miles toward their destination. They bedded down in tents in a stand of trees outside of the tiny, deserted town and slept the day away. By nightfall, they set out again, headed now for Prince George by way of the Pine Pass. Mattea and Wren were worried about this leg of their journey. This would be a dangerous passing, with the road winding and bare of side foliage, forcing them to travel large sections of their journey out in the open.
Again, they were lucky, reaching Bear Lake, a popular camping spot before the pandemic, just after daybreak. As they’d approached Bear Lake, they found growing evidence of other Outlanders, tensing at the prospect of facing strangers for the first time. The big surprise was finding a tent city built around the lake, with those occupying the place behaving with some semblance of order. Taking an hour to observe the set-up from afar, they decided it was safe enough to approach the main gated entrance, where a thirty-foot travel trailer was parked, just inside. They might learn what was ahead for them as they travelled to the Kootenays. They might even learn more about Freeland.
This would be their first attempt at a civil exchange with other Outlanders.
Coru and Mattea approached the gate alone with Wren and Deklin waiting down the road aways behind some brush.
The man who greeted them was bald on top, with a stubby gray ponytail gathered at the nape of his neck. He was armed with a shotgun, and wore a Kevlar vest. Before Coru could speak, the man said, “Well, it took you long enough, Tatman. You checkin’ us out before you bring on the woman and boy?”
Coru closed his mouth, glanced at Mattea.
“We not fools. We have this whole area wired in with cameras. We saw you coming a couple of hours back. We’ve been checking you out, seeing if you’re the kind of folks we want in our community.”
Coru liked this guy. He smiled and asked, “So what’s the verdict? Do we pass muster?”
“You park your weapons here, tell me somethin’ about yourself I can hang my hat on and you’ll probably do.”
“Sounds fair.” Coru wasn’t surprised at the weapons check. It was what he’d do in their place. “Name’s Wisla, this is Mattea Greyeyes-Apsassin. Going to see what all the talk is about a place called Freeland.”
Mattea turned and waved Wren and Deklin forward.
“I’m Doug.” The gatekeeper’s gaze roamed Coru’s tattooed head with admiration. “Nice Tat’s.”
Coru had forgotten how odd his appearance was to the people of this time. “Thanks.” He looked past the gate at the tent city. It seemed to be organized into streets, each tent, travel trailer and camper with a yard to tend, each with some kind of transportation parked nearby. “You over winter here?”
“Hell no. We’re gathering here. Heading out for Freeland ourselves, in a week. Caravanning. Safer that way.”
Wren drew up alongside.
“This is Wren and her brother, Deklin.”
Catching the last of the conversation, Wren repeated, “Freeland?”
Doug’s eyes lit up at seeing Wren. “Hey little lady. Glad to see you aboard. These fellas treating you right?”
“Good enough to tolerate their company,” she replied, matching his attitude and tone.
Doug laughed. “I like your style, girl. Where you folks from?”
&nb
sp; They’d agreed ahead of time to not disclose where the family was hidden. Coru answered, “We’re from outside Dawson Creek.”
“Dawson, huh? Don’t go into Rushton, son. It’s a gong show up there. Run by some Neanderthal named—.”
“Curtis Mathers,” Wren provided. “He’s not running anything anymore.”
Doug’s eyebrows rose, his expression shifting to wary. “And you know this because…?”
“Let’s just say Mr. Curtis Mathers paid me an uninvited visit some months back and I made sure that man never touched another human being again.”
Now Doug’s eyes shone with interest. “Ooh, a story, I suspect. What happened?”
“Victim of his own weapon.”
Doug waited for her to expand.
“Curtis had a liking for grenades, it seemed. Brought a few to the party. Too bad he wasn’t so good with the little suckers.”
“And?”
Wren nudged her head toward Mattea. “My friend here scraped what was left of him off the Highway with a shovel.”
Doug scanned their group, and it seemed he liked what he saw. “You willing to surrender your weapons? Share your grub?”
“Sounds fair,” Coru replied. He’d keep his taser as insurance. They got out of the trannies, pulled out their weapons and handed them over.
Doug had tags to tie to them, marking them carefully as “Tatman” before handing them off to a younger man, who stowed them inside the trailer. “You’ll get these back when you leave. You might think about tossing in with us. We can use a couple of strong young bucks like you.”
Coru smothered a snort. Young buck.
Doug’s eyes flicked to Wren. “And you too, Birdy, since you take no crap from anyone. Wait a few days and you’ll have a safer passage to Freeland.”
Mattea spoke up for the first time. “Sounds promising. We don’t know a lot about the place. Who should we talk to for more information?’
“Gayle and Tony Antonelli would be the people to look up. They’re on Ave. B, number …” He ran his finger on a hand-drawn map stuck to the inside of the trailer door. “Number six. It’s a big one, you can’t miss it. The whole Antonelli family was immune — can you beat that? There’s eleven of them, Gayle and Tony and nine kids.”
Lost Sentinel: Post-Apocalyptic Time Travel Adventure (Earth Survives Series Book 1) Page 37