The Journey is Our Home

by Kathy Miner

  “No, but Gideon told me not to.” She took a deep breath. “Owen, you might want to get comfortable. This could take a while. I don’t know what Gideon has told you about his brother, but I’m afraid it just went from bad to worse.”

  They ended up ranged around the tiny, dank room: Piper seated on the cot, Owen sprawled on a thin, ratty mattress in front of the door, Jack still seated in the straight-backed chair. She talked them through everything she’d seen and experienced since they’d been separated, culminating with a detailed description of the afternoon’s events. “It’s hard to say how much power Trent has or how much harm he could do, if any, to someone he’s not connected to. Everyone here has let him in, to some degree.” She grimaced, shaking her head. “Including me. Don’t ask me what I was thinking, because obviously it didn’t work out the way I intended. If you end up face to face with him, don’t drop your guard for even an instant.”

  Jack nodded. “What about Ed? Have you heard anything? What about your bond line?”

  “Our bond line is still strong, but I haven’t heard a thing. They’ve kept me locked down pretty tight.” She looked at Owen. “On the road when they captured us, you told Ed you saw him in Onawa, when you saw Decatur burning. Did you really?”

  “No.” Owen hunched his shoulders. “That was a lie. I just wanted to get him out of there. He wasn’t going to leave us. I could see that in his face.”

  “Hmm. Might turn into a self-fulfilling prophecy, if we’re lucky. Maybe Ed can convince the people in Onawa to help.” She pulled her knees up and wrapped her arms around them. “In the meantime, do we have any other plans for getting out of here?”

  “Nothing solid,” Jack answered. “Some desperate hail Mary’s. Now that we’re together, some of them would be less risky.”

  They talked through some of the ideas he and Owen had come up with, then started creating a new plan based on a series of if-then scenarios. How many men would show up in the morning to take Piper to the infirmary? Could any of them be persuaded to change allegiance? Prior to Reggie’s arrival with Piper yesterday, they had never interacted with less than two of their captors at a time. Jack had disabled multiple armed men with his voice before, but these people were forewarned. If he tried and failed, it might escalate an already perilous situation. Finally, after what felt like hours of troubleshooting and worst-case contingencies, they had a plan.

  Full dark had fallen as they talked, the room illuminated only by the faint glow of the moon through the tiny, grubby window. Piper was no more than a shadow curled within the shadows on the cot, and Owen was a disembodied voice from near the floor. Jack shifted on his uncomfortable, rickety chair, then stood and gave a mighty stretch.

  “I think we have a little water left. My mouth feels like glue. Do either of you need a swallow?” He patted his way to the corner where they kept the plastic jug of water, then shared sips with Owen and Piper. It was lukewarm and brackish, but it soothed his throat.

  “Have they been taking decent care of you?” Piper asked. “Feeding you enough?”

  Jack made a so-so gesture with his hand, then remembered she couldn’t see him. “Sort of. They take us out a couple of times a day to use the facilities, such as they are, though they haven’t let us wash up. I imagine we’re both pretty aromatic.”

  Piper’s voice had laughter in it now. “It’s okay. My eyes stopped watering after the first ten minutes or so. And I see what you meant by the beard – you are rockin’ that Jesus look, there.”

  Jack winced, then continued. “The food has been a little scarce, and we could use twice the water they’ve been giving us, but we’re not desperate yet.”

  “I wonder if they’re deliberately trying to weaken you? Or if they don’t want to waste food on prisoners? Maybe both? Trent said their resources were limited. That’s why they turned Ed away. Trent’s not interested in supporting people who don’t have some kind of gift he can exploit.” She told him what Gideon had told her about Trent’s video games, then shared her theories, based on what she’d observed. “The people here seem unaware that they’re being manipulated. Or they did, before that little exhibition this afternoon. Pretty sure they’re aware now. And you know what I just realized? Other than Gideon and Trent, I haven’t seen any other children. None at all.”

  “Too powerful, maybe? Or maybe too hard to control? Our little ones all had strong intuitive skills, but they were unpredictable, to say the least. Remind me to tell you the Viagra story someday.” Jack was quiet for a moment. “Do you think Trent was literally addicted to gaming? I saw that, a lot actually – kids needed their electronics, just like any junkie needs a fix.”

  “Absolutely. We talked about this in my aberrant psychology class. He’s pretty classic, now that you mention it. High levels of aggression and narcissism, low levels of control. He keeps people around him, but he’s isolated just the same. He probably misses the characters in his games desperately. It’s likely they were his closest friends.”

  “He may not be capable of having normal, healthy relationships, which would be why he manipulates.” Jack sighed. “Dangerous as he sounds, I have to admit I’m anxious to meet him. He’s a kid. I’m good with kids. You said you could resist his ‘vines’ until after you deliberately dropped your defenses, so hopefully I would have the same experience.”

  “I’ve been thinking about it, and I would bet some people are more susceptible than others. The people who lost consciousness – maybe they have rotten shields, or they didn’t try to resist him at all.” Piper sighed, too. “If he weren’t a textbook sociopath, it would be fascinating to ask him about it. I wonder if the games he played taught him to role play, to present the façade that’s most compelling to the person he’s interacting with?”

  From the shadows near the door, Owen’s voice broke in, distorted by a yawn. “Interesting as your dissection of this little shit is, I’ve got to cry uncle.” Rustling sounds were followed by another enormous yawn. “You two carry on. I’m just going to close my eyes for a minute.”

  And in less than that minute, sonorous breathing told them Owen was asleep. Jack and Piper continued their conversation, in whispers now. “Gideon told us they were being cared for by their grandmother, who died in the plague. Their mother abandoned them when Gideon was just a baby, and they have different fathers, neither of whom is in the picture.”

  “Don’t you dare try to make me feel sorry for him, Jack. Owen called it right. He’s a little shit.”

  Jack was quiet for a moment. “I’m not disputing that. But every angry kid I ever met was a hurt kid. It always came down to fear and pain. I’m not making excuses for him. I’m just saying there’s always a ‘why’ behind bad behavior. Layla always says –”

  The air left his lungs as if he’d been kicked. He had actually forgotten, for a moment there, that Layla was dead. They had talked about kids like this for hours without number, and he missed it. Missed her, her friendship, her intelligence and wisdom when it came to troubled children. He squeezed his eyes shut and pulled in a long, deep breath, trying to loosen the pain that tightened his chest.

  In the dark, Piper’s searching, patting hand connected first with his bicep, then slid down to squeeze his hand. Her fingers were icy cold, and without overthinking it, he slid next to her on the cot, curling an arm around her back to cushion it from the damp stone wall. She tucked into the place against his side as if she had always fit there.

  “Go on,” she said softly. “What did Layla always say?”

  He had to clear his throat before he could answer. “That the outer walls were always directly proportional to the inner softness. The kids with the scariest defenses, with the spikes and piercings and gauges, those kids are the marshmallows underneath.”

  “Well, Trent doesn’t have the Goth thing going on, but we could try holding his hand and singing him a lullaby, tell him we’re sorry he has abandonment issues. See if we can find that soft underbelly.” Her voice dropped to a sibilant hiss. �
��So we can gut it.”

  Jack smiled, even though he knew she wasn’t really joking. Then he fell silent, thinking, considering, and finally deciding. He spoke in a low voice, aware of Owen snoring on the floor a few feet away. “I want to tell you what happened between me and Layla.”

  He felt her surprise, as both an emotion and a slight stiffening of her shoulders. “Okay.”

  Jack turned his head to speak more directly into her ear, not wanting this to feel like a whispered intimacy, but not wanting to burden Owen with it, should he wake. “I forced Layla to respond to me sexually. I stopped short of raping her body, but I violated her mind. She and Owen were together by then, but I knew she wanted me. I could feel it, whenever she dropped those crazy shields of hers. And I wanted her.”

  Piper’s breath touched the side of his face. “If you wanted each other, why weren’t you together?”

  His face heated, but he wasn’t about to start backpedaling now. “I didn’t think I could be with her, not openly, not in the bright light of day. Her spirituality was something I just couldn’t accept. She was a witch, and I was a pastor. At the time, it seemed so cut and dried. She was wrong and I was right.”

  “Are you telling me this because you think we’re going to die? Because I’ve gotta tell you, I’m feeling like our chances are at least 60-40. Maybe even 70-30, so –”

  “I’m telling you this because of what’s growing between us. You deserve to know what kind of man I am, so you can choose whether or not to continue.”

  Piper absorbed his words, and did not answer right away. She turned her face away from him – he felt it in the way her body shifted. In her silence, Jack could feel something gathering.

  “I killed a man in cold blood.”

  Jack nodded slowly. On some level, he’d known. It had been there, in the words that rose from her nightmares, in her haunted eyes, in a thousand ways. “You weren’t defending yourself?”

  “No.” She kept her face turned away from him, and in her voice, he could hear the extent of the damage she’d done to herself. “I lured him into a trap with sex. And when they told me to execute him, I did. I shot him in the head, point blank, and I was not sorry. I won’t lie to myself or to you about that, even if it would make it easier.”

  He admired her honesty, though her words made his heart ache. He knew this woman, knew how tough she was. He also knew she was innately kind, and concerned for the fate of her fellow man. He couldn’t imagine the hell she must have been inhabiting, to make such an act possible.

  Piper went on. “One moment he was there, and the next moment he had ended. His name was Josh, and he was sobbing when I shot him.” Finally, she turned her head back towards him, and a shift in the moon illuminated half of her face with soft silver. “But do you know what the worst thing was? It was the look on his face at the end, the terror and the total aloneness. I made sure every one of his bond lines were snuffed. All of the connections he’d built, the camaraderie with the other men – I ended those, too. Severed them. And he knew it. He could feel how alone he was before he died, and he looked almost relieved when I pressed my pistol to his forehead.”

  “Piper.” Jack would have given anything at that moment to be able to take it from her. What a bitter cup she’d been given. “I’m so sorry you had to suffer that. I’ll carry it with you now, and the load will be lighter.”

  She curled into him, warming him, seeking and giving solace. “It already is lighter. All this time, I’ve been wondering what I wouldn’t do to survive. Everything my mom taught me, the values my folks tried to instill, the laws I believed in – none of that meant anything when it came time to choose. I didn’t even hesitate. I’ve been so afraid that there’s nothing in me but the desire to survive, nothing decent, no line I wouldn’t cross.” She smiled. “And then a shitty little pariah named Trent Donnelly walked into my sights, and I couldn’t do it. I could not shoot him, and I would not now, not even to save my life. There’s peace in that, Jack. A great deal of peace.”

  Then she grinned at him, and the one eye he could see glowed with something that made heat curl and lick in the pit of his stomach. “So, back to that thing you said was growing between us. Does it matter if I’m agnostic? Because I believe in a higher power, I think, but –”

  Jack laughed. He might be stupid about women, but he knew how to stop her words as a wise man should, with a kiss. The thrill of brand new blended with the sensation that he’d been kissing her like this, always. The lazy heat that had warmed the pit of his stomach and the base of his spine ripped along his arms and legs, and crackled across his scalp. He pulled back just before his eyebrows caught fire, and found her wide-eyed.

  “Criminey, Jack, if you could see what I’m seeing right now. It’s like flaming rainbows, but not as ‘Ghost Rider’ as that sounds…” She trailed off, and her eyes, both dimly visible now, danced around them. She leaned into him, watching his eyes, and pressed her mouth to his once more. Jack felt her desire as his own, felt her sensations blend and heat with his. She laughed softly against his mouth. “Oh my gosh, this is going to be so interesting.”

  They drew back simultaneously, and Jack had to stand up before he prowled right over on top of her and forgot all about Owen and cellars and everything else that made this not the time, not the place. He pressed his back against the cold stone wall opposite the cot and listened to her take quick, shaky breaths. Listened, and grinned from ear-to-ear in the dark.

  “So.” Piper’s voice had a grin in it, too. “A little more incentive to get out of this hell hole, hmm?”

  “Darn tootin’,” he replied, and she belly-laughed in response. He couldn’t help himself, moving near enough to touch her face, feeling the pull of her like a lodestone in his blood. She tilted her cheek into his palm, and he closed his eyes.

  Jack blew out a breath that should have flamed, and stepped back. So tempting, so very tempting, to fall into this fascinating newness opening up in front of him, but there was a time for everything. Now, for example, it was time to change the subject. He dragged his chair away from the cot and sat down. He was about to resurrect their earlier discussion about Trent when a rustle and a familiar, rhythmic tapping at the window brought him to his feet again.

  “It’s Gideon.” He moved to stand under the window, his fingers finding the gritty ledge. The window slid open, halting and grating in its dirty track, and a waft of fresh, cool air hit his face. A round, dark shadow blocked out what little light was coming through.

  “Hi, Jack. Can I come in?”

  “Sure, buddy. I’m ready.”

  Gideon squirmed through the window, legs first, bringing with him a rain of Juniper needles and dirt. Jack caught his slight little body around the waist but forgot to brace himself. Momentarily blinded by Gideon’s angelic posse, he set the little boy down on the ground, then cupped his eyes in his hands to help his night vision return.

  Owen stirred and sat up, shaking off sleep. “Hey, it’s our favorite visitor. How’s it going, G-man?”

  “I brought a flashlight.” A rustle, then a strange, rhythmic whirring sound. “I couldn’t find one with batteries. This one you have to pump with your hand, and it only lasts a little while.”

  A dim glow illuminated Gideon, tongue caught between his teeth, cranking a flashlight for all he was worth with his little hands. When the light glowed steadily, he looked up. “Hi, Piper. That was really good shooting.” Then, he looked up at Jack. “Are you ready to go?”

  “Go? What do you –” Before Jack could finish asking, a series of thumps outside the door silenced him. The bracket holding the padlock rattled, and faintly, through the door, they heard the jingle of keys. Jack barely had time to scoop Gideon behind him before the door swung open.

  Reggie. And two other men. They were all holding rifles and lanterns, and the only one that didn’t look scared to death was Reggie. Owen had stepped in front of Piper, and she tilted her head to peer around his shoulder. Reggie’s eyes found her, and
he inclined his head.

  “Hope we didn’t startle you too much.” He looked at both Jack and Owen. “Don’t know what the hell you two can do that’s more dangerous than her shooting, but it doesn’t really matter.” Again, he met Piper’s gaze. “We owe you a debt. Nobody knew, not really, how Trent was running things. Running us. It don’t sit well, a boy controlling men. It don’t sit well at all, even if he can see the future.”

  Piper nodded slowly. “I guess it wouldn’t. Are you setting us free?”

  “Yep.” His eyes flickered back to Jack and Owen, but he continued to address Piper. “Trent’s planning to kill them in the morning. Said he wanted me to do it after you’d treated our people, a public execution, so’s everybody would see the consequences for disobeying him.” Reggie shook his head. “I ain’t going to tell you that I wouldn’t shoot innocent men, ‘cause I have. Didn’t bother me, neither. Nothing bothers me since my daughters died.”

  Reggie looked away for a moment, a muscle flexing along his neck and jaw, and his deep and awful grief rolled over Jack like a wave. Then he drew a deep breath in through his nose and returned his gaze to Piper. “But like I said, we owe you, and killing your men ain’t how we repay a debt.” He unslung an AR-15 rifle from his shoulder and handed it to her. “Believe this is yours. We’ve got your bikes and your gear on the edge of town. Most of your gear, anyway.” He was all asshole again for a moment, rubbing his stomach. “That bacon sure hit the spot. And we relieved you of your marijuana, too. For medicinal purposes, of course.”

  Jack couldn’t quite stifle his disappointed sigh. He bolstered his shields, then reached behind his legs and drew Gideon forward. “For the record, the real future-caster is right here.” He pitched his voice just so, and put power behind the words. “And he’ll be coming with us.”

  The air around them seemed to vibrate for a moment, and the men with Reggie exchanged startled glances. One of them laughed nervously. “Did you hear that? That was a damn Jedi mind trick, that’s what that was.” He waved his hand in the air and intoned, “’These aren’t the droids you’re looking for.’”