by Kathy Miner
“I didn’t ask why she chose it.” Jack was quiet for a moment. “Why didn’t I ask? It must have been important to her.”
“If she went to the trouble to change it legally, it’s safe to say the name has great meaning for her. In Greek mythology, Cassandra was the daughter of King Priam of Troy. Apollo wanted to seduce her – or as my mom used to tell it, Apollo ‘wanted her favor’ – so he gave her the gift of prophecy. When she turned him down flat, he cursed her so that no one would believe her prophecies.”
Jack winced. “Well. That would fit. I take it one of your many pets was named ‘Cassandra?’”
“A chinchilla.” Piper yawned, and settled deeper into the sleeping bag. “Do you know which name she would be going by now?”
“I hadn’t thought about that. Won’t do us much good to ask around for ‘Cara’ if she’s known as ‘Cassandra,’ will it?” Jack grimaced. “Crap.”
Again, he felt her smile. His G-rated profanity never failed to amuse her. “Watch your mouth, Pastor.”
She turned away from him with another jaw-cracking yawn, and curled up. Jack stood to walk the perimeter again and found Owen watching him. “We’ll find your sister,” he said. “I’m sure of it.”
Then he, too, rolled over and settled into his sleeping bag, leaving Jack to wonder at the other man’s certainty. Owen spoke so rarely, it was hard not to read importance into everything he said. Maybe, like Piper’s Brody, he had a sense of the future, of what was to come. No, Jack corrected himself. Not “Piper’s Brody.” The man had taken enough from her. Linking them, even in his mind, was offensive.
Dawn finally warmed the eastern horizon with pink. Jack set up a campstool to shade Piper’s face from the rising sun, then sat down and watched the prairie wake up, smiling as meadowlarks sang and dove for their breakfast, and insects whirred and dodged. Little moments of joy, as Naomi always said. In this hard new world, all you could do was swim from one island to the next.
The community would do well with Naomi leading them, he mused. He was sure of it, even if she wasn’t. He wondered if they would decide to stay in the Woodland Park area or if they would relocate to a more remote and defensible location but the wondering was academic. His future lay in a different direction. He hadn’t said as much to Piper or the others yet, but somehow he knew he wouldn’t be returning to live in Colorado. Something beyond Cara was pulling him home.
To Jack’s relief, Piper slept several hours past dawn. He, Owen and Ed had already washed and eaten when she roused around. The three of them made themselves scarce to give her some privacy, and Jack walked to the top of the hill again, planning to see if he could detect any activity in Limon through the binoculars. Ed joined him.
“What do you think?” Rosemary ranged all around them, fresh as a daisy, ears perky with interest in the bright morning sun. “Or should I say, what do you feel?”
Jack smiled and lifted the binoculars to his eyes, scanning for a moment before he answered. “It looks and feels quiet. Hopefully, we won’t need any of Martin’s strategies.”
“Well, hope for the best, plan for the worst.” Ed shot him a sideways look. “If he said that once, he said it a thousand times. So we walk in armed, Owen in the lead, then you and Piper, with Rosemary and me bringing up the rear.”
Jack nodded. They had worked out this type of approach with Martin. “If they want to get aggressive, we identify the leader, I start talking, and Piper aims for the strongest bond-line he or she has while we back out.”
Ed smiled. “Our pretty-as-a-picture secret weapon.” He shook his head. “Never saw anything like her and her mother for shooting, and who would have guessed? First time I met Naomi, she was bringing a plate of cookies to my front door, hair and makeup done just so, a sweet, pretty lady. She might even have been wearing an apron. And Piper. In my mind, she’s still a cute little tomboy with skinned knees, a hot temper and a ready fist.” The smile fell away from his face, leaving him looking old and haunted. “And now here we are. Never could have imagined it.”
Jack nudged him gently away from the past. “We should confirm the plan with the others and get moving. If this doesn’t work out, I’d like to put some distance between us and them before night falls.”
Ed nodded, and whistled for Rosemary. She came tearing out of the tall grass instantly, tongue lolling, and glued herself to Ed’s side. He touched her head, then looked up at Jack. “Wouldn’t hurt for you to do some of that praying you do, Pastor. I’d hate to see us meet trouble on our very first stop.”
By the time they joined the others, Piper had washed up, changed her clothes, and was working on finishing her breakfast. Her short blonde hair stood out in wet spikes around her head. She looked up, her sharp eyes the exact shade of green Jack knew so well from dreams. The expression on her face was all determination, no fear. Piper’s vulnerabilities belonged to the night. During the day, she was a Valkyrie.
Owen joined them, and Jack went over what he and Ed had discussed. He watched Piper as he talked, noting the faint circles under her eyes, noting also that her movements were brisk and that she was eating the last of Verity’s vegetables with enthusiasm. She nodded occasionally as he talked, but her gaze darted and swooped with the movements of the birds all around them. When a red-winged blackbird trilled its distinctive song, she smiled. Then, her eyes narrowed. “I don’t believe it. It can’t be.”
Jack followed the direction of her gaze just as a raven fluttered to land on the handlebars of Piper’s motorcycle. The big bird cocked his head to the side when he saw them looking at him and croaked, a sound familiar even to Jack’s unpracticed ear.
“Isn’t that the raven your mom calls ‘Loki?’” When Piper nodded, a dumbstruck expression on her face, Ed grinned, Owen shook his head in amusement, and Jack laughed. “Well, what do you know. You wouldn’t let her come, but she managed to send her spies just the same. A post-apocalyptic GPS tracking device. Only Naomi could have pulled that off.”
Piper looked away from Loki, her expression a complicated mixture of irritation and love, with just a touch of fear. She closed her eyes for a moment, resting her hand over her heart, then gasped softly. When her eyes opened again, the moss-green was magnified by tears. “She sent a message. She loves me, and she’s sorry. Damn it, mom.”
She surged to her feet and took refuge in movement, rolling her sleeping bag and stowing the rest of her supplies. Loki watched them all curiously as they moved about the camp, then croaked again and flew off to the west. By the time they were ready to leave, the sun was approaching mid-morning and they were all anxious to get on the road.
Once again, the bikes seemed dangerously loud when they took off. They rode slowly, bumping across the prairie until they reached State Road 71, one of the numerous roads that led into Limon. There weren’t many vehicles here, nothing like the congestion they’d seen in other spots, especially when they had crossed I-25. They increased their speed, Jack in the lead, with Piper right behind him. The vehicles they passed had clearly been ransacked for supplies, but there were no bodies inside. Jack slowed his bike as they passed a wide-open minivan, and nodded at the grass-covered mounds alongside the road.
“Look at that. Someone buried the people who were inside.”
“Respect for the dead is a good sign,” Ed commented. “Tends to go hand-in-hand with respect for the living.”
They slowed again when they started to pass occasional houses. Piper pulled up alongside Jack and signaled – her instinct for people was the most sensitive – and they pulled off at the now-deserted Tamarack Golf Course. They cut the bikes’ motors, and Piper rubbed the back of her neck.
“They know we’re here. They must have watchers stationed outside of town. There’s no one in our immediate vicinity, but I’m sure they’re converging on us. I know we planned to leave the bikes before we were detected, but it’s too late.”
“So what do you think?” Jack asked. “Should we just ride on, try to get closer to I-70?”
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Piper thought for a moment, then shook her head. “No, let’s leave the bikes here and walk. It will seem less threatening. Besides, none of us can shoot very well from a moving motorcycle, and you can’t hocus-pocus ‘em if they can’t hear your voice over the bikes. No sense in negating our only advantages.”
Jack nodded, then made eye contact with Ed and Owen, who also nodded agreement. “It’s as good a plan as any. If worse comes to worst, we scatter and make our way back here.”
They pushed the motorcycles behind the small club house, then donned their emergency backpacks. Jack and Ed carried shotguns, Piper the same AR15 rifle she’d had since her time with Brody’s group, while Owen was armed with the hunting rifle he’d had since he was a boy. They headed back out to the main road, the crunch of their boots on gravel the only sound. Falling into the formation they’d agreed on, they walked towards town. Jack’s senses were so painfully wide-open, he could feel his companions’ anxiety as his own, even Rosemary’s.
They began to pass more and more homes, and the sensation of being watched increased steadily until Jack’s skin was crawling with it. Out of the corners of his eyes, he began to detect movement behind the houses they were passing, but still, no one challenged them or stepped into the open. They’d been walking for about fifteen minutes when Jack decided he’d had just about enough of the cat-and-mouse routine.
“This is as good a place as any, Owen. Let’s see if they want to come out and talk.”
Owen stopped and rolled his massive shoulders, scanning from side to side. Piper and Jack took up positions back-to-back behind him, facing out, while Ed turned to watch the way they’d come.
Jack spoke over his shoulder. “What can you tell us, Piper?”
“Their bond lines are all around us, like a grid,” Piper answered. “I count eight in our immediate vicinity, a lot more radiating north of here.”
Jack called out. “Are you willing to talk to us? We’re friends of Martin and Grace Ramirez and Quinn Harris. We just want to talk.”
They waited. In the silence, a meadowlark sang, and Jack could hear Piper’s breathing, swift and light. Finally, a man’s voice called out. “Tell us about Grace and Quinn.”
Jack turned his face towards the unseen speaker. “They’re both part of our community now. Teenagers. They traveled from here together to look for Grace’s dad, Martin Ramirez. They were the only ones in their immediate families to survive.”
A few more heartbeats of silence. Then a man stepped out from behind a house on Jack’s side of the road and began walking towards them. He carried a shotgun low across his hips, but his finger was on the trigger. Owen stiffened, and shifted his rifle towards the man. The man stopped walking, squinting at them. Then, he spoke.
“You could probably get a shot off, but you’ll be dead before me. There are twenty weapons trained on you right now.”
“More like eight,” Jack kept his voice easy, confident, in spite of his tension. Underneath the “easy,” though, he layered just a little power. “We aren’t looking for a fight, but we will defend ourselves. We’re just passing through, and we wanted to see if there was a community here, make a connection for our own people. If you’re not interested, we’ll just go on our way.”
The man scrutinized them a moment longer, then called over his shoulder without taking his eyes off them. “Bernice? What’s the call?”
A woman’s quavering voice answered from out of sight. “I think they’re okay, Brian. Everything he said was the truth.”
Brian snapped a question at Jack. “Do you intend us any harm?”
Jack pitched his voice to carry to the hidden Bernice. “No, we don’t.”
A moment passed, then Bernice’s voice warbled out again. “Truth.”
Brian’s shoulders relaxed, and he took his finger away from the trigger. “My name is Brian Weaver. We’ve learned to be wary of strangers.”
“I’m Jack. This is Owen, Piper, Ed and Rosemary.” He nodded to them in turn. “We don’t intend to stay. We’re headed east to look for family, but if our communities could connect, we might be able to help each other in the future.”
Brian gestured for them to walk with him. “Why don’t you join us for our noon meal? We can trade information.”
Jack glanced around his circle of companions and got a brief nod from each. By earlier agreement, he, Owen and Ed slung their firearms over their shoulders, while Piper kept hers cradled in the crook of her arm. As they walked, Jack noted people stepping out from behind houses and buildings, making eye contact with Brian, then fading back at his nod. An elderly woman emerged from behind another house as they passed, approaching with a gait that was both spry and hitching.
“I’m Bernice,” she said, in the wobbly voice they had heard before. She held out her hand. “I approve all of our newcomers.”
Jack took her soft, papery hand between his own. So many senior citizens had died in the plague, and the Woodland Park community had come to view the few surviving elders as treasures. “Bernice,” he said, taking the time to really connect with her rather than falling back on what Layla used to call his “smarm.” He squeezed her hand warmly before letting her go. “The friend I mentioned, Martin Ramirez, is very good at knowing when people are telling the truth, too.”
“I knew Martin’s first wife, Lena, though I don’t recall ever meeting him. Deployed all the time, as I remember, then they divorced. I used to golf with Lena’s mom, every Tuesday. She sure adored those grandkids, Gracie and little Benji. She passed a few years before the plague, and I’m glad she didn’t live to see it. Sometimes, I’m sorry I did.”
“We wouldn’t know what to do without you, Bernice.” Brian moved to the old woman’s side, tucking her hand in the crook of his arm. Their eyes met, and Bernice nodded. Brian looked back at the travelers, his eyes once more assessing. “Have you changed? Since the plague?”
Jack returned the scrutiny, feeling his way forward. He and Piper had talked at length about the fact that different groups of people would have different attitudes towards the apparent shift in humanity and about the need to proceed with caution. “Everyone who survived has changed, in many ways,” he hedged.
Before Brian could respond, Bernice made an impatient sound and swatted Jack’s arm. “Don’t get slippery, young man. We appreciate straight talk here, and you won’t come to harm, no matter your answer. Are you psychic or not?”
Jack bit the inside of his cheek to control what might be misinterpreted as a disrespectful grin. “We call it intuitive, ma’am. And yes, many of the people in our community are different, including me. I feel what others are feeling, like their emotions are mine.” Telling all wasn’t necessary, he decided, and left it at that. “People here have changed as well?”
Brian answered. “A lot of us, not everyone. Intuitive – that’s a good way to describe it. Bernice here knows when people are lying or being deceptive. I’m not as sensitive, but I feel things more strongly than before, like what used to be a hunch is now a sure thing.” He looked past Jack. “What about the rest of you?”
Piper spoke. “I can see the connections between people.”
Ed chimed in next. “My wife used to say I couldn’t catch a hint with a butterfly net, so I guess evolution left me behind.” He inclined his head towards Owen. “Our friend here is the strong and silent type and keeps his own counsel.”
Jack approved of their friendly but carefully edited descriptions. “What about the children here? Have the majority of them changed, too?”
Brian nodded. “All of them, much more so than the adults.” He smiled crookedly. “We’ve had a time, trying to figure out how to handle some of the little ones. They say whatever they’re thinking, and they know things they shouldn’t.”
Jack let his grin show this time. “We had an interesting classroom conversation about Viagra that was started by a five-year-old girl.”
“Classroom?” Bernice’s gaze was sharp, interested. “I was the high sch
ool principal, before I retired. You’re a teacher, then?”
“A youth pastor, before. Anything I needed to be after, including a teacher.”
Brian’s laugh was wry. “I hear that.” He gestured for them to start walking again, keeping the pace easy for Bernice. Jack and Piper walked beside them, Ed and Owen a short distance behind. “I used to sell insurance. Fat lot of good those closing skills are doing me now.”
He looked at Piper, and though he was subtle about it, his eyes performed a thorough sweep. Jack could feel the other man’s interest, and Piper’s sudden tension. “What about you, Piper?”
“College student, before. University of Northern Colorado.” Her voice was clipped, almost unfriendly, and Jack had to resist the urge to step in, to soften the interaction for her. She wouldn’t thank him for it. “Now I just shoot things that need shooting.”
Brian’s eyebrows shot up, but instead of discouraging his interest, Piper’s words spiked it. “Is that so? Your daddy taught you to shoot, did he?”
“My mother, actually.” Piper pointedly focused on Bernice, not quite the cut direct, but close enough. “Do you know about the gang that’s in control of Colorado Springs?”
Bernice’s face tightened. “We do. We’ve got some folks that are refugees from that mess. Denver is pretty bad, too, but not as organized, from what we hear. A lot of smaller gangs, fighting each other for resources. We’re more concerned about the group in Colorado Springs. They’re the most likely to cause us trouble in the future.”
They walked up a gravel driveway and past a two-story farmhouse, stopping in front of what appeared to be a long, low adobe bunkhouse. Brian gestured at the open doorway. “Here’s lunch. After things settled down, we all gathered on this end of town to consolidate resources and watch each other’s backs. We do a communal meal here at noon, Monday thru Friday. Keeps everyone in touch, keeps us all accounted for.”
He led them inside. The interior was dark and cool, thanks to the thick walls of the building and the strategically opened windows which allowed the ever-present prairie breeze in. About twenty people were already seated at long tables, which were set up cafeteria style. As one, they looked up, eyeing the newcomers with interest.