by Kathy Miner
Once again, Jack was aware of particular interest in Piper, this time from a pair of young men seated on the far side of the room. Piper stopped walking, her eyes darting around the room, her discomfort with the attention they were getting obvious. As he watched, her chest started to heave, and her hands turned to white-knuckled claws on the rifle she still held. Her eyes swung around and locked onto Jack’s.
“I can’t breathe.”
She didn’t say the words, didn’t even mouth them, but he heard her voice as if she spoke directly in his ear. Her terror nearly swamped him. Jack shored up his shields and smiled smoothly at Brian and Bernice. “Excuse me just a moment, would you?”
He caught Ed’s eye and tilted his head towards Brian. Without missing a beat, Ed stepped into his spot and picked up the interaction, belying his earlier claim that he couldn’t take a hint. “If I could trouble you for a bowl of water for Rosemary? She feeds herself, but water would sure be appreciated…”
Jack moved to take Piper’s arm, steering them to an unoccupied corner of the room. Owen went with them, then turned his back, using his big body as a shield to give them some privacy. Jack looked down at Piper’s white, rigid face.
“What is it?”
“It’s just like the mess hall, at the camp at Walden.” Her eyes were glazed, locked on a vision from the past. “This is just like when Noah and I got there, and they were all staring at me. I don’t want them to stare at me. I don’t want it!” The words spilled out of her in strangled, gasping rushes. “This was a terrible mistake - we never should have come here!”
Jack pitched his voice to cut through her panic, layers of calm and logic and soothe. “This is not just like Walden, and if you take a deep breath, you’ll be able to see why. So take a deep breath.” He put a punch of imperative in his next word. “Now.”
Her chest heaved at his command, and her eyes opened wide in surprise. Jack nodded. “Good. Again.” He waited until she’d hauled in three deep breaths, then said, “Better. Now look around and tell me what you see. How is this different than Walden?”
Piper did as he asked. “The bonds extend outside this room. They’re not as isolated.” Her eyes flicked among the tables, and interest began to replace the panic. “They’re all bonded to Brian, but even more so to Bernice. She’s as much a leader as he is, and she’s beloved by all. She’s the center of a web of love, green lines everywhere, and they go both ways.” She looked at Jack. “Nobody loved Brody. They were all dependent on him, but most of them were also terrified of him. His lines were all red, and they only went one way – from the group to him.” Her eyes dropped, and a frown creased her forehead. “Well. Except for one.” Then she looked back up, and her eyes narrowed. “You used your voice thingy on me again, didn’t you?”
“Sure did. I’ll apologize later.” He inclined his head towards the young men, and Brian. “In the meantime, how do you want to play this? We can pretend you and I are together romantically, but if that would make you just as uncomfortable, it’ll never work. If I can feel what you’re feeling, chances are good someone else here can, too.”
Piper frowned. “Which is a weakness I don’t intend to advertise.”
She thought for a moment, then started to talk her way through it. “I don’t need to lie. If they ask, I just say I’m not interested. This group is civilized enough to accept that answer. They’re just looking. I can handle that.” Then her spine straightened, her shoulders squared and the Valkyrie met his gaze with narrowed eyes. “But if they try to do more than look, Jack, I’ll beat the shit out of them.”
“I’ll help.”
Owen’s voice was a rusty rumble, startling them both. He smiled down at Piper, and when Piper smiled back, Jack was shocked by a bolt of white-hot jealousy, piercing his chest like a spear. He blinked, hard and fast, stunned. Where had that come from? Then, he tuned in to what they were both feeling, and the stabbing tension in his chest eased.
Owen reached out to bump Piper’s shoulder with a huge fist, his smile turning into a grin. Big brother to little sister. “Actually, I would just let you handle it. Maybe take some bets on the side.”
Piper laughed. Buddy to buddy. “Deal, but you split the take with me 50-50.” She looked down for a moment, swallowed, then looked up at both Owen and Jack. “I’m sorry. I got blindsided. I’ll try not to let it happen again.”
Owen ducked his head and nodded. Jack managed a smile, still trying to make sense of his own reaction, and gestured towards the waiting group. “Atta girl. Let’s eat.”
They returned to Brian, Bernice and Ed. Brian’s eyes asked questions, but he didn’t give voice to them. Instead, he led them to the food spread out on a buffet table, and they all helped themselves to homemade tortillas, an abundance of fresh vegetables, and to Ed’s special delight, strips of grilled steak. Brian gestured to the food.
“Most of us have been ranchers for generations, and now we’re all gardeners, too. I’d guess we’ve had an easier time than most adapting.” They all sat down together as more people filed in and began serving themselves. “The refugees out of the cities have told us food is a constant issue. They’re fighting over roast cat and whatever canned stuff they can still find, when all they’d have to do is grow or raise their own. I guess people will either learn or starve.”
“How many survived the plague here?” Piper asked.
“Twenty-eight, including Grace and Quinn,” Brian answered. “But we’ve grown since then. We have folks from Denver and Colorado Springs, a few from Pueblo, travelers from parts east of here, and three babies born this summer. We now number eighty-six.”
He looked down for a moment. When he looked up, his face was both determined and sad. “There’s something I need to come clean about. My dad and I saw Grace and Quinn, right after the plague. They came into town looking for food. At that time we were scrambling, trying to make sure there was enough for everyone. Some folks were trying to hoard, strangers were coming through and stealing anything they could get their hands on. It was a free-for-all.”
Piper’s face hardened. Jack knew she had tucked Gracie under her wing, and though she teased her uber-maternal mother about being a broody hen, she was as protective as Naomi in her own way. “You’re the ones who shot at them.”
Brian didn’t flinch away from the judgement in her gaze. “We are. We were trying to disable their truck, but my dad was startled and his shot went high. They must have thought we were trying to kill them. We planned to go talk to them after a few days, but when we went out to the Harris ranch they were gone.” Brian swallowed hard. “It haunted my dad to his dying day. I lost him over the winter – pneumonia. It would mean a lot to me to apologize to those kids for both of us, but especially for my dad. It would help him rest easier, crazy as that sounds.”
Ed answered him. “It doesn’t sound crazy at all. Quinn and Grace ran into some trouble after they left here, and it might give their hearts some peace to know you didn’t intend to harm them. Grace, especially, needs to know that there are good people left in the world.”
“You could travel to Woodland Park yourself,” Jack suggested. “Make contact with the community and talk to the kids at the same time. Or, if you can’t be spared here, you could send a runner with a message.”
“I’ll make plans to go. No one here is indispensable. We try to double up on all our duties and tasks, and we share information constantly. So much knowledge has already been lost.” He shook his head. “We’re sitting on top of a huge alternative-energy plant, but there’s no one left alive who knows how to run it or how to maintenance the wind turbines. We’ve been trying to figure it out, but we’re so busy just living I’m afraid we’ll lose the incentive to try, along with so many other things.”
“When you get to Woodland Park, ask for a man named Alder,” Jack said. “He’s our chief mechanic and jury-rigger, and I think those turbines might make him drool.”
“Alder. I’ll remember. Well, then, enough about us.”
Brian leaned forward, arms folded on the table. “Where are you headed, and how can we help?”
Jack outlined their plans while Brian listened, his face showing increasing concern. When Jack finished talking, Brian shook his head. “I hate to tell you this, but from what we’ve heard, you’re headed from bad to worse. We had a group arrive early this spring from all over back east. Three of them started in Pennsylvania, and they picked people up as they went. Seventeen of them made it here, but not before they ran into all manner of trouble. Word is, everything east of the Mississippi River is hazardous. Too populated. One fellow wouldn’t have made it out of Chicago alive if not for his dog – she was a retired police dog, if you can believe it, and she fought to the death to protect him.”
Ed glanced down at Rosemary, his face sober. “None of that sounds promising. No word of any organized effort to help folks or any attempts on the part of the government to get the country back on its feet?”
Bernice snorted and shook her head. “Sweetie, you’ve been around the block – maybe not as many times as me, but still. Those shysters won’t pop their heads up until the dust has long since settled. We’re on our own.”
Jack took a deep breath and blew it out. “I appreciate the information, but I’ve got to do what I’ve got to do.” He looked at Ed, Owen, and Piper in turn. “But if I haven’t said it before, I’ll say it now. You can stop, any time you want to. None of you are obligated to follow me into danger.” All three of them just stared back at him blandly, and Piper rolled her hand in a “get on with it” gesture. Jack finished anyway. “Just think it over.”
Around them, people were finishing with their food, but they weren’t leaving. Cards and board games came out, and a teenaged girl produced a guitar, learning chords under the direction of an older woman. Near the open windows, a trio of battered recliners were all occupied by people reading, and a group of men and women at an adjacent table all held knitting needles or crochet hooks.
Brian’s eyes flickered to Piper yet again. His glances had grown more and more lingering as the meal had progressed, in spite of the fact that Piper had met his attempts to draw her out with cold-eyed disinterest. “You all are welcome to stay a few days, if you like, and get to know us. Who knows?” He waited until Piper met his gaze, then gave her a smile so beautiful and charismatic, it had certainly clinched many a sales deal. “You might find something here you like and decide to stay.”
Two things happened at once: Owen seemed to swell to twice his normal size, and Piper bared her teeth, the expression as feral as Brian’s had been charming. Seated side by side as they were, the combined effect was magnificently intimidating. Brian’s eyes widened so suddenly the effect was comic, and Jack couldn’t stop a bark of laughter.
He clapped Brian on the shoulder and stood up. “We’ll take you up on part of that offer, Brian. Maybe Owen can take a look at those turbines, and I’ll bet Piper would like to talk to those folks from the east coast. But I think we’ll be moving on after that. In the meantime, how about if I sing for our supper? Could I borrow that guitar?”
Bernice beamed and clapped her hands. “Dinner and a show! Traci!” She waved at the teenager holding the guitar. “Bring that over here, honey!”
Traci did as Bernice asked, and Jack thanked her. He strummed and tuned for a moment, then looked up to find his traveling companions all gazing at him with varying degrees of surprise.
“I didn’t know you could play guitar,” Ed observed.
“Or sing,” Piper added, looking just a little nervous. Beside her, Owen remained silent, but his skepticism was plain to see. Piper went on. “You can sing, right? This isn’t going to be like when your drunk buddy gets up to karaoke and thinks – mistakenly – that he’s got a gift, right?”
Jack rolled his eyes. “Hello? Youth pastor, remember? I’ve got skills. It’s a pre-req.”
He looked around the room, and felt completely in his element for the very first time since before the plague. “Hi, everyone. I’m Jack. My friends and I truly appreciate your hospitality. You want to do a good old-fashioned sing-along?”
One of the knitters called back. “Could you sing for us?” She rested her elbows on the table and tilted her head to the side, gifting him with a flirty smile. “It’s been so long since we were entertained by a handsome man.”
There was some grumbling from the men scattered around the room at that, but Jack nodded. “Sure. How about some musical advice?” He caught Brian’s eye and winked, then strummed the plaintive opening notes of his favorite Bonnie Raitt tune, “Nobody’s Girl.”
“She don’t need anybody to tell her she’s pretty…”
Piper’s face bloomed a satisfying red, and Jack smiled as he sang. How he had missed this – he hadn’t played or sung so much as a note for over a year. He finished the song, and the room burst into applause. People started calling out requests, and if he knew it, he sang it. He coerced them into a few sing-alongs, and when his voice was raspy and his fingertips numb, he announced the last song.
“This one is for one of my friends. Piper, give ‘em a wave.” Piper rolled her eyes, pink-cheeked, but did as he asked. Jack looked at the two young men craning to get a better look from the back table, nudging each other and mouthing her name. When they realized he was staring at them, their cheeks, too, flushed with color. “Remember that first song I sang, guys? Refer back.”
Then he struck the bouncy opening chords of the Ray Charles classic. “Hit the road, Jack, and don’t you come back no more…”
Piper’s laughter rang through the room, and Jack realized he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so happy.
FIVE: Cass: Sailing on Lake Michigan
The specter lifted out of the heaving gray water as Cass was fighting to control her mainsail in the rising wind. The summer squall had blustered up out of nowhere; likewise, the ghost that was now hovering just off her starboard bow had risen from the unseen depths, and there she would remain until Cass acknowledged her.
“A little busy right now!” She shouted the words over the gusting wind and the slap of water on her small hull. “Just carry on with your haunting until I get this handled, ‘kay?”
The ghost – a woman with dark hair – seemed to nod, which was interesting. Cass spared her darting glances as she worked to keep her boat from heeling by spilling wind from her mainsail. The spirit lingered for a few minutes then faded; Cass was certain she hadn’t seen the last of her, but at the moment, she had her hands full trying to keep her craft under control and upright.
By thee gods, she was not going to get swamped by a little Lake Michigan temper tantrum. If it was her destiny to end this incarnation on the Great Lakes, so be it, but no less than the Witch of November better be the one to come for her. She grimaced and cast a nervous eye to the lowering skies. Yes, it was July, but her sailing skills needed a lot of work before she threw that challenge out to the Universe.
“Just kidding!” She hollered at Fate, just in case she’d been listening in, too. “I’d rather not meet her, thanks all the same!”
Not that she hadn’t come a long way. A year ago, she wouldn’t have known what a mainsail was. Veda had spent the long winter and spring teaching her as much as she could about sailing, and Cass had devoted hours to studying the Sailing Fundamentals book she’d salvaged from the Michigan Maritime Museum in South Haven. Theory and experience, however, were two very different things.
She’d been fooled by the big, white, fluffy cumulus clouds that had gathered on the horizon, for example, masking the black nimbus clouds behind them. By the time she’d accurately assessed the situation, it was too late to make a run for shore. Better to weather the storm in big water than chance the breaking waves of the shallows where she would either capsize or run aground.
As quickly as it hit, the squall line passed. Cass watched the line of rain retreat, feeling her heartbeat slow, feeling for the first time how desperately cold she was. “Stupid, stupid, stupid,” she mutt
ered. When she was sure it was safe, she unhooked her safety harness, used a bungee-cord to secure the tiller, and headed below to change into dry clothes and the weather gear she should have been in before the squall hit. As she changed, she went back over the weather pattern in her mind, noting the signs she had missed, resolving to do better next time. She returned to the deck, where the sun was already making a watery reappearance.
“Long foretold, long last, short notice, soon past,” she said to no one in particular. She’d spent so much time alone during the last six weeks, she’d gotten into the habit of speaking aloud, often in the form of a back-and-forth commentary. Besides, given her talents, she never knew when someone would be around to hear her. The ghosts rarely answered back in the conversational sense, but from her earliest memories, she had talked to them. Once she’d passed the age of imaginary friends, the practice had gotten her into worlds of trouble.
As if summoned by her thoughts, the dark-haired woman rose from the water again. Cass checked her sails, let her hand rest on the still-secured tiller, and relaxed back in the captain’s chair. She took a moment to say a prayer of protection, to center herself, and to shift her mind to a neutral, receiving state. Then she opened to whatever communication this spirit wished to make. The woman seemed to be gazing at her with curiosity, and for the first time, Cass noticed that her hands were curved around a softly rounded belly.
“You were pregnant when you crossed over?” Cass waited. After a moment, she felt as much as heard a soft, Yes. Again, she waited. Information could come to her in many ways. She might see, hear, smell, feel or even taste a communication from a spirit. Sometimes, an overly enthusiastic entity might hit her with a multi-sensory onslaught, what Cass called “information via firehose.” This woman was more respectful and seemed content to let Cass ask the questions.