by Kathy Miner
“Go with God, Ed.” She bent down and ruffled Rosemary’s ears, then sketched the sign of the cross on the dog’s forehead with her thumb. “You too, sweet girl. Stay safe. Gotta get me a dog now, thanks to you.”
Ed headed for the motorcycles where Jack and Owen were completing preparations to leave. Bernice was with them, a shawl clutched around her thin shoulders against the early-morning chill. Murmuring her thanks, Piper hugged Claire, then stuck her hand out to Brian. He shook it, grinning at her.
“Now, Piper, don’t embarrass yourself. I know how badly you want me to come along, but I’m needed here. Duty before beauty.”
Piper grinned back. They had reached an understanding over the last several days, and she had grown to appreciate this charismatic man’s combination of self-effacing humor and sensitivity. She schooled her face into sober lines, playing it straight as they walked together towards the bikes. “I have a confession to make.” She paused, then went on solemnly. “If you were the absolute last man on Earth, I might maybe possibly think about giving you a chance.”
His grin deepened into ridiculously attractive dimples, and he laughed. “No, don’t beg. It’s beneath you.”
They were both laughing when they joined the others at the motorcycles. Jack looked up, his gaze flickering between them. He straightened, his face taking on the neutral expression Piper had come to think of as “shields up.” Even his bond-lines dimmed when he did this. He held a hand out to Brian.
“Thank you for all you’ve done, your hospitality and your information.”
Brian shook his hand. “You’re more than welcome.” He nodded to the guitar slung across Jack’s back. “I see you and Traci worked out a trade?”
Jack self-consciously adjusted the strap. “Well, sort of. She wouldn’t take anything for it – insisted on giving it as a gift, but I had to swear to stop in and visit if we come back through.” He shot an embarrassed glance at Bernice when she cackled out a laugh, and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, she’s got a crush, I’m afraid. It weirds me out.”
“She’s nearly 19,” Bernice pointed out, “And she doesn’t like her options here.” Then, she winked. “Plus you’re the closest thing to a rock star she’s seen in over a year.”
Her words sent sniggers around the group, and Piper elbowed Owen. “Our very own one-man boy band. We are going to have some fun with this, you mark my words.”
Jack smiled and shook his head good-naturedly, and looked at Brian again. “Please carry our love to our people.”
“I’m looking forward to meeting them.” Then, to Piper. “I’ve got the copy of your notes, safe and sound, ready to deliver to Anne and Grace when I go.”
Bernice had suggested sending a copy of the information Piper had gathered back to the Woodland Park community, and Piper had readily agreed. Several people had helped with the transcription, and one of the older men in Limon had kept a copy for himself, expressing interest in expanding and adding to the project himself. In her notes, Piper had included information on the route they’d taken, identifying where they’d seen signs of habitation, where the road had been damaged, and where they’d sensed danger. She had also enclosed a personal note for her mother that read simply: “I got your message. And you used to say I got my stubbornness from Dad! I love you, too.” She had signed her name, then thought to add a postscript: “Loki says ‘Hi.’ Totally creepy, Mom.”
Piper inclined her head in thanks as she got on her bike. “I appreciate it. Let them know we’re all safe and sound.”
“Will do.”
Owen reached to shake Brian’s hand, and Piper took one last look over her shoulder. Pikes Peak was pink with the dawn, and she let her eyes linger on the familiar outline. Before the day was out, the mountains would be lost to view. Piper pressed a hand over her heart, where the bond-line connecting her to her mother was a steady, solid green. She sent love along that link, and the immediate, tender echo back made tears sting her eyes even as she smiled.
Jack was watching her when she turned her eyes away from home, his face warm with compassion. “Your mom?”
Piper nodded, not really trusting her voice, and he pressed a hand over his heart as well. He’d comforted her this way before, a show of sympathy, but this time was different. This time, the bond-line between them didn’t crackle so much as warm and pulse, like a heartbeat. Sudden heat flushed up Piper’s chest to her neck and cheeks, startling her. Jack, too, looked startled, and dropped his hand. For the first time since she’d met him, their eyes held just a few seconds too long. Then Jack looked down and started his motorcycle. “Let’s get going.”
They were off, roaring into the rising sun. From Limon, they zig-zagged to the north-east, following a route Piper had loosely plotted in her head. As agreed, she took the lead, though she checked in with the others often. They flew by tiny plains towns and deserted grain elevators, traveling under a sky so vast, it felt like they were standing still. Herds of antelope startled and fled from the sound of their motorcycles, and several times, they saw groups of placidly chewing cattle who ignored the humans and their noise. Here and there, an abandoned vehicle stood in silent testament to the changes in the world, but, otherwise, traveling across the plains was much as it had been before.
As morning climbed past noon, clouds built in the west, obscuring the mountains and stirring the prairie grass with swirls of wind. By the time they stopped for a break just before they crossed the Kansas state line, it was looking like they might not make it through the day without more rain. Piper stretched out muscles unaccustomed to riding, then jogged to the top of a nearby hill. Owen was already there, eyes crinkling at the corners as he scanned the western horizon. He wasn’t as accurate as Jose back in Woodland Park, but his weather sense was the best among them.
“What do you think?” Piper asked. “Should we find shelter, or put on rain gear and tough it out?”
Owen scanned the horizon once more, then shrugged. “I think we should keep going. It seems to be slower moving than the storms we’ve been seeing, and it feels like it’ll swing south.”
“Feels like?”
He nodded. Piper examined his profile, and then glanced over her shoulder. Jack was rummaging in the bags on his bike, and Ed had disappeared from view. Rosemary was sitting patiently beside Ed’s bike, so he’d probably stepped away to empty his “old man’s bladder,” as he liked to grouse. Piper looked back at Owen. No time like the present.
“You’ve never said, and if I’m prying, please say so. But have you changed?”
Owen glanced at her, then returned his eyes to the horizon. Again, he shrugged. “No, not really. I guess I’m kind of like Verity. I’ve always been different.” He smiled a little, an expression of fond remembrance. “I’m just not as flamboyant about it as she is.”
“What do you mean? You see the dead?”
“No.” He looked down at the ground now, as if uncomfortable talking about this, but he did keep talking. “I feel what’s coming. I have all my life. My grandma always used to say I had ‘the Sight,’ that it was a ‘gift.’ The first time it happened was 9-11, and ever since, I’ve known that something was going to happen a few days before every major terrorist attack or natural disaster.”
Piper was quiet for a minute, thinking about the implications. “But you don’t know what’s going to happen, or where?”
“No.”
“What about the plague?”
Owen’s jaw tightened. “Just like with all the rest, I knew something was going to happen, but not what. If I’d known that, I’d have taken my family somewhere safe, or at least away from other people.” He looked at her, and a series of emotions struggled for control of his features. Guilt, anger, grief, remorse, more guilt. “And no, I didn’t know they would die. I didn’t know about Layla and the baby, either. I don’t get warnings about stuff I could actually do something about.”
“Oh, Owen.” Piper reached out and slipped her hand into his big, warm, callused one.
“I hope you’re not offended, but I think your ‘gift’ sucks.”
He laughed a little, as she had hoped he would. “So do I. As far as I can tell, it’s worthless.”
“You’ve never gotten information on a horse race or the Super Bowl or something? So you could place a bet?”
“Nah. I have been able to share information now and then, information that helped people.” He nodded towards Jack, who was busily duct-taping a plastic tarp around his guitar. “We’ll find Jack’s sister. I know that.”
Piper opened her mouth to ask if they’d all make it safely home again, then shut it. He’d share, if he knew. She squeezed his hand, then let it go. “I appreciate you telling me.” Then she turned and headed down the hill. “And you may be able to sense the future, but I’m putting on my frog togs just the same. I don’t think that storm’s headed south, and I hate being wet and cold.”
Owen laughed as he followed her down the hill, and they all shared a quick lunch. She caught Jack scrutinizing her and Owen a few times, but his eyes slid away every time hers swung his way. There was an odd new tension between them, something she hoped would just dissipate without a discussion. They rode on through the afternoon, stopping once to siphon and purify fuel from a cluster of abandoned vehicles, then rode on into the early evening. Finally, they stopped just outside of Cambridge, Nebraska, on what the map told them was Medicine Creek.
Owen’s prediction had held; the storm had indeed swung to the south. The evening was beautiful, the light soft and pearly, with just enough of a breeze to keep the mosquitoes at bay. They set the tents up on a rise above the creek amid softly rustling cottonwoods, and Jack scrambled together some of the fresh eggs and vegetables they’d brought with them from Limon. After dinner, both Ed and Owen stretched out on their sleeping bags for a nap. Jack busied himself with the clean-up, while Piper took Rosemary with her for a walk along the streambank.
After the long day on the bikes, walking felt wonderful, though she could feel the pull of exhaustion in her shoulders and back. Hopefully, she’d sleep soundly tonight. They hadn’t seen a single sign of life all day, no people, no smoke, nothing. The sensation of being alone in the world was deeply disturbing and brought with it an unease that Piper would bet originated in her brainstem. Like most primates, people functioned best when they were part of a social group. Humans weren’t meant to be solitary.
Rosemary ranged far and wide as they walked, splashing in and out of the creek, giving a yip of excitement when she flushed some prairie chickens into flight. She seemed completely at ease until they rounded a bend in the creek where the cottonwoods opened up and gave way to prairie. A house sat on a hill amidst what had once been cultivated fields. The windows had been broken at some point, and dingy white curtains wafted in and out like ghosts.
Piper stopped walking, and Rosemary slid to her side, pressing against her leg as they stood together, looking. On the garage door, the words “God’s Judgement” had been spray-painted in big, sloppy, black letters. Rosemary’s ears were perked to full alert, her nose twitching as she analyzed the swirling wind for information. After a moment, her ears flattened, and a soft growl rumbled in her chest.
“Well, that’s pretty much all I need to know.” Piper did an about-face, and they headed back the way they’d come. She didn’t know if Rosemary’s agitation rose from the presence of the dead or the living, but even from where they’d stood, the combination of rage and despair that permeated the house was palpable. She hadn’t seen or sensed anything which suggested they should abandon their campsite, but she’d be sure the others understood setting a watch wasn’t merely a formality. She let her hand trail to Rosemary’s head.
“You keep those ears awake tonight, okay? And your nose, while you’re at it.”
She returned to camp to find Owen and Ed still sleeping. Jack had settled down by the fire, leaning against his rolled-up sleeping bag, just staring into the low flames. He looked up at them and blinked owlishly. “I can’t believe how tired I am. We basically just sat all day.”
“A low-grade adrenalin crash, maybe. We’ve all been tense for hours, on the lookout, ready for anything.” Piper sat down across the fire from him. “A walk might refresh you. If you decide to go, there’s a house to the north that bothered Rosemary. Looked abandoned, but we didn’t get close enough to confirm that.”
“No bond-lines?”
“No, but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. A person alone might not have them. Or they might be able to suppress them, like you do.”
Jack blinked again, looking surprised and a little more awake. “I can suppress mine?”
Piper shrugged. “You dim them, whenever you do that ‘shields up’ thing. Your face turns into a mask, like a poker face, when you don’t want people to know what you’re thinking. Your bond-lines get fainter when you do that.” Her face warmed; it sounded like she’d been watching him, analyzing him. It came as a little shock to realize that she had been. She cleared her throat. “Anyway, we should all stay plenty alert on watch tonight. I’m glad Owen and Ed are getting some sleep now.”
“Hmm.” Jack made an affirmative sound. He paused, and she felt him make the decision to tackle the awkwardness between them. “It looked like you and Owen were sharing a moment earlier.” Another pause. “Is something happening between the two of you?”
He was using The Voice on her again. It was subtle, just a smooth thread of soothe and calm, but Piper sensed it nonetheless. She felt a surge of annoyance. “If by ‘something’ you mean a friendship, then yes. Would it be a problem if it were something more? And stop with the voice thing. It’s doing the opposite of what you intended.”
“Okay.” Jack didn’t flinch at her irritable tone, but she could feel his internal debate over whether to be honest or evasive. Honesty won…sort of. “As for you and Owen, I think it would complicate things. He isn’t over Layla’s death yet.”
Piper narrowed her eyes at him. Did he really think he could hide the fact that he was only telling part of the truth? “And?”
Now, he looked away. “Aren’t those good reasons to avoid an entanglement, at least for now?”
She’d show him how this “honesty” thing was done. “Jack, the last thing I have on my mind these days is hooking up with someone. I’ve got some shit of my own to sort out, in case you hadn’t noticed. But all that aside, you’re not my big brother, and it’s none of your business what I do.”
He was quiet for a few moments. Then, he sighed, and gave her a peace-offering smile. “You’re about Cara’s age. So though I could be your big brother, I thank the good Lord I’m not. I’d have spent all my time breaking up the neighborhood brawls you started.”
Piper held on to her disgruntlement for a moment, then let it go and laughed. “That Ed. He’s been telling tales, I see. So you think riding herd on the neighborhood hot-head would have been worse than living with a fledgling Verity?”
Jack made a comical face. “Geez, when you put it that way…” His face grew serious. “We had no idea what was really happening with Cara – not my parents, and not me. I let her down so badly, Piper. Sometimes, it eats me alive, the need to tell her that. She was my baby sister, and it was my job to look out for her.”
Piper looked down, thinking of Macy, missing her sweet smile so much her chest felt caved-in, hollow. “It was my job to look out for mine, too. Didn’t work out great for either one of us, did it?” She sighed. “Well, Verity would spout some mumbo-jumbo about the Path and all that. And she’d be right. We can’t go back and change things. We can only go forward.”
Jack shook his head. “I can’t tell you how hard it was for me to accept that Verity was always right. And I mean ‘always’ literally. I wanted to dismiss her as a nut-job, but God’s hand is on her head. Now that I’ve seen what that can mean, I do not envy her.”
“She’s spent most of her life isolated by it,” Piper said, remembering her earlier thoughts. “Walking with angels is one thing, but didn
’t your God create an Adam and an Eve, together? Humans are meant to be connected, one to another. The bond-lines that I see – I feel like I barely understand them, but I can feel how ancient they are, and how massive, too. There’s so much more beyond what I can see.”
Her eyes went unfocused, and she groped for words to express what she was just barely beginning to grasp. “We’re all one. When one of us suffers, we all suffer. When we love, when we lift each other up, we are all lifted. It sounds so simplistic, but it’s the most profound truth I’ve ever realized. I wish I had better words to describe it.”
Jack smiled. “It’s a lot like the Golden Rule. Do unto others as you would have done unto you.” He tilted his chin at her backpack, which was resting beside her. “Simple or not, you should write that down in your notes.” Then, he stood, and whistled for Rosemary. “I think I’ll take that walk you recommended.”
He headed south along the creek with Rosemary trotting right beside him. Piper pulled out her notes as he’d suggested but ended up just staring at the fire. Now that the moment was gone, she felt self-conscious about writing something down that seemed so un-scientific and un-supportable. What evidence did she have, other than what she’d observed when she had ended Josh’s life? His complete separation from the group had been terrible to see, her bullet a mercy, releasing him from his aloneness. Piper contemplated that thought for a moment, trying to decide if she was justifying or if she was brushing another layer of truth about the bond-lines. She also wondered how Jack would respond, if she told him the truth about the event her theory arose from.
On the rise, Ed stirred, stretching on his sleeping bag and yawning. He sat up, obviously looking around for Rosemary.
“She went for a walk with Jack,” Piper called.