by Kathy Miner
The woman nodded, her eyes clear of madness and craving, clear of fear. Beside Cass, Luc fell to his knees, much as the woman had. He placed his bow on the floor with great care, his eyes never leaving the woman’s face. He was bone-white to the lips, and his whole body was shaking. He looked at Cass, his eyes vague and shocky. “She was going to…I didn’t know what to…she would have…I’m sorry…” His gaze turned back to the woman’s face. “I’m so sorry, so sorry. Please.”
The woman’s eyes returned to Cass. She coughed once, spraying blood onto the pretty tile floor. Then she smiled, and Cass saw her spirit lift free of her body. Cass bent her head and prayed, prayed for all of them in that room, the living and the dead. She felt Luc slump against her and begin to sob, awful, ripping sobs, and still she prayed. The woman lingered for no more than a breath, then lifted to the Light, her task complete. The entity called Aaron swirled and pushed a little longer, then drifted away; he might follow the woman into the Light, or he might not. At the moment, Cass didn’t really care.
She opened her eyes, and gently laid the woman’s hand on the floor. Then she curled an arm around Luc while destiny tore through him. He would be forever changed. Broken and new. Veda had predicted this, and Cass had dismissed it. In a different space, she would have been crippled by the guilt of that, would have convinced herself she could have prevented this if she’d listened, if she hadn’t let Luc come with her, if, if, if. Here, so close to the connection with this woman, she knew a path was being forged for both of them that could not have been avoided or denied.
Luc sat up, scrubbing at his face with both hands, chest heaving as he tried to regain control. He looked again at the woman’s face, and his chin gave a mighty wobble. He squinted and looked away, then startled and looked around the room frantically.
“Where’s the little girl? Cass, what happened to Annalise?”
Cass knew before she looked; the little girl was gone. So was the pistol. They searched the house, then the surrounding homes. They returned to the house, and worked together to dig a grave for the woman in the back yard. Cass rummaged through cupboards until she found a soft, pretty blanket. They lifted her limp body onto the makeshift shroud, trailing a drizzle of blood across the delicate yellow flowers as they moved her. Luc was white again when they had finished. He stood abruptly, then half-ran out the kitchen door. Cass heard the sound of him vomiting, but she didn’t say anything when he returned. They wrapped the woman’s body, then carried her outside.
He didn’t speak until they were standing over the mound of her grave. “We don’t even know her name. Will she go to hell? I mean, I don’t think she was a good person.” Tears filled his eyes and began spilling again. Cass didn’t think he was even aware that he was crying. “She seemed like a terrible mom. I’m not saying this to make it okay, what I did. I just want to know if I put her in hell.”
Cass slid her arm through his and leaned her head on his shoulder, hugging his arm. “She went to the Light, Luc. I felt it. We all go to the Light, eventually.”
He rested his cheek on her hair, twining his hands with hers and gripping tightly. “So there’s no hell? And I won’t go there for killing her?”
“No, honey, no. I know it doesn’t make sense now, and it sounds like I’m just trying to make you feel better, but you two had a contract. You made an agreement, to meet in this way, in this time and place. You served each other as you agreed.”
“How can you know that? You can’t know that.” Luc was fighting sobs again. “I killed someone, Cass! I took her life away! Anyone else would be telling me I was going to hell!”
Cass turned and cupped his face in her palms. “Honey, the only hell is the one you’re in right now. The one we make for ourselves here on Earth. The Light is love, and all souls return there. I don’t understand why this happened the way it did. I think we both just need to be patient and wait for that path to unfold.”
Luc closed his eyes. After a moment, he reached up and gripped her wrists, removing her comforting hands. “I have to find Annalise. We can’t leave her here alone.”
He searched until well after dark, traveling up and down the river, then searching the neighborhood in ever-widening circles. Cass stayed at the house, in case Annalise returned, and cleaned her mother’s blood off the floor. She removed the arrow from the wall and cleaned it, too, not wanting either Luc or Annalise to see, to be reminded. She tidied and straightened both the kitchen and the dining room adjoining it, where Annalise and her mother had obviously been sleeping. She walked to the river for water, and thoroughly watered the flagging garden in the fountain, then walked back and filled every container she could find, lining them up on the kitchen counters.
And then, she was out of things to do. The helplessness that took the place of doing was miserable. When Luc finally returned, silent and muddy, they slept on the plushly carpeted living room floor, avoiding the mouse-infested sofa and loveseat as well as the old death upstairs.
For two days, they searched. Cass had to force Luc to eat, and even then, he seemed too thin and harden before her eyes. Gone was the lean, healthy, strong young man she’d left Beaver Island with; a man with haunted eyes had taken his place. Finally, Cass had to call a halt.
“We’re out of food, and your parents are going to be frantic if we delay any longer. We’re already going to be a few days past our predictions. She’s not coming back, Luc.” He tried to turn away from her then, but she caught his arm. She made her voice hard, no matter how badly she wanted to be tender with his wounded, aching heart. “She’s not coming back. She’s either too scared or too angry. We have to go.”
He followed her back to 190 silently, the way he did everything these days. When they were on the highway, he paused once to look back, and Cass saw something take shape in his face. He gazed at the river for long moments, then turned to face her. His voice was determined, matter-of-fact. “I’ll never stop looking for her,” he said. “Never. We were wrong, Cass. The world isn’t better since the plague, not for people like Annalise or her mom. We’ve just been lucky.”
And so begins a path, Cass thought. They walked through the early morning fog, arriving on the outskirts of Pewaukee before the last of it had even burned off. The familiar places disoriented her, made her realize that she, too, was changed. As they drew closer and closer to her home, she began to feel a stirring excitement. Something was building, something was on the verge.
When they rounded the corner onto Hill Street, she couldn’t hold back any longer, and broke into a jog. As everywhere, death was here, and destruction. Houses damaged and looted, bodies in vehicles. But there, oh there. The little white two-story house with the green roof, the pretty, spindly porch railing, the sun room above. She ran up the long, gravel driveway, and the ghosts of all her childhood selves ran alongside her. Gangly legs, flying pigtails, Sunday dresses and skinned knees. The towering walnut tree, the hydrangeas, the little pine tree they always decorated with Christmas lights, so much bigger than she remembered. Cass slowed as she neared the porch, suddenly terrified to go inside. She stood there, hands clutched over her heart, until Luc joined her.
Together, they stood there looking at the front door. Finally, she felt Luc glance at her. “Ah, is everything okay? Are we going inside?”
Cass nodded, and still, she couldn’t make her feet move. They were dead. She knew they were dead. But what if? What if? The hope was terrible. She looked at Luc and had to clap her hand over her mouth to stop the sob that burst out. “I haven’t been home in almost ten years,” she managed. “I can’t believe how scared I am. I don’t want to go in there.”
He picked her hand up and looped it through his arm, patting her clammy fingers. Cass had a flash-forward that made her dizzy for a moment; this sweet boy would always be her friend, steady and true, and would always offer her a strong and capable hand to hold onto. “We came all this way. I’ll help you.”
They walked up the porch steps – oh, familiar creaks –
and through the unlocked front door. Here, the house was remarkably unscathed, no windows in the front living room or dining area broken. The dust was thick and the air was stale, but otherwise, it looked like her mom might come bustling in at any moment, carrying a serving platter with a pretty roast chicken and vegetables for Sunday dinner.
Then, she heard her father singing the doxology.
Cass broke away from Luc and ran down the hallway, bursting through the swinging kitchen door. Her dad was standing at the kitchen sink, and he whirled, startled. Sun streamed in the window behind him, haloing his tawny hair, outlining the familiar shape of his head. Dimly, Cass registered movement out of the corner of her eye, sensed people converging, but her eyes were locked on her dad. Then, she blinked. And launched herself into her brother’s arms.
“Jack!”
SIXTEEN: Grace: Rock Ledge Ranch, Colorado Springs, CO
“Scarlett Johansson.”
Verity tilted her head to the side, listened for a moment, then beamed at Adam. “Alive and kicking!” Then, her face dimmed, as much as Verity’s face ever dimmed. “Ooh, though, in the thick of some trouble… But aren’t we all? Next.”
Tyler spoke. “Pentatonix.”
Before Verity could respond, Adam kicked at the leg of Tyler’s tilted-back chair, nearly unseating him. “Which one? You can’t do five at once – that’s cheating.”
“Fine.” Tyler shoved at Adam’s shoulder, retaliating for the chair-kick. “Shakira, then.” They tussled for a moment, pushing and cuffing like little boys. Or, thought Grace, like lovers who didn’t think they could be open about their feelings. She walked down the porch steps and headed for her favorite bench beside the irrigation pond, leaving them to their game of “Celebrity Who’s Alive and Who’s Dead?” The three of them had been playing for days, with Tyler a few points ahead at last reckoning.
The evening was cool in the wake of an afternoon thunderstorm, and Grace wrapped her arms around herself, wishing she’d grabbed her jacket. As if summoned, Persephone rose from her place between Verity’s feet and trotted down to join Grace. She leaped lightly to her lap, then curled up against Grace’s chest, settling in with a sigh. Grace curled her arms around the little dog and leaned to bury her nose in the musty fur on top of her head, loving her warm weight and familiar scent.
By this time tomorrow, she hoped to be dead.
Their plans were set. At dawn, she, Tyler and Adam would head for Fort Carson. Levi would slip into one of the positions he’d scouted on Colorado College’s campus and wait for the show that was Grace to begin. Verity was supposed to head back to Woodland Park with Persephone – Grace had begged, in spite of the futility of such a gesture, for a promise on that plan – but as soon as she thought the woman would follow through, Verity would make some comment about spending some “girl time” at the Broadmoor spa, or visiting the zoo to see who remained in residence. As with everything else about this plan, Grace could only play her role and hope the others met with success.
Her task, after all, was simple: endure. Whatever they dished out, she needed to take, until distant explosions on Fort Carson told her Adam and Tyler – “the boys” as Verity had taken to calling them – had destroyed the helicopters. If all went as planned, they would do so shortly after nightfall, just as the arena festivities were beginning on the CC campus. Their role was far more hazardous, in Grace’s estimation, than her own. They wanted to live to tell the tale; Grace would rather not.
And as far as Adam and Tyler were concerned, Levi had the hardest job of all: taking out enough of the gang leadership to prevent the current regime from re-forming and keeping Grace safe while he was at it. Levi and Grace had worked out a prioritized target list, and he’d studied her sketches for hours, asking her question after question about the men, the way they moved, habits she’d observed. In addition to taking out the leadership from his sniper’s nest, he was supposed to provide cover for Grace to escape. On that, though, he and Grace had a private agreement.
They’d been sitting at the dining room table late the night before, after Adam and Verity had already gone to bed. Tyler was on watch, and she and Levi had been going over some of the hiding places he might use if his escape routes were compromised. Grace had bolt holes all over the area, but only some of them were big enough for Levi to use. When they’d finished the task, Grace had asked him for a favor, as calmly as she would’ve asked him to pass the salt.
“Kill me, if they haven’t already. As soon as the shooting starts, they’re likely to kill me anyway. But if they don’t, and if some of them survive, don’t leave me alive.”
His cold eyes had reflected neither surprise nor dismay at her request. “There will almost certainly be some of them left alive. I can take out two for sure. Maybe three. After that, they’ll head for cover. Even with the night scope, I can’t guarantee better odds than that.”
“I know. That’s why I’m asking.” She gazed at him, let him see her resolve. “Don’t let them make me pay for what we accomplish.”
She’d waited through the still silence of his decision-making process and had been relieved to the point of tears when he’d nodded his agreement. She had risen from the table, and rested a hand on his shoulder in gratitude for a moment before going on to bed herself. It eased her, knowing her suffering would not be prolonged.
And so, all was in readiness. Grace had been staying at the ranch to let her pepper-induced hives clear, and the boys had searched the area, bringing her back stylish clothes in her size, as well as toiletries and make up. She needed to look as different from her “Stinky” disguise as possible. If someone recognized her as the “boy” that had been skulking among them for months, their cover story would blow to pieces. She had taken a bath earlier today, soaking away the last of the grime of her alter ego, and was still enjoying the green apple scent of the shampoo the boys had brought her. The men’s weapons and supplies were also laid out and ready, firearms cleaned and oiled, ammunition divvied up.
The boys even had explosives they’d “liberated” from a group of “wannabe mall ninjas” in Green Mountain Falls, though they downplayed the story when Grace was in earshot. It was easy to forget sometimes, when they were laughing with Verity, whom they both now openly adored, or working together in the kitchen in quiet, companionable harmony, that they were predators. The group they’d raided hadn’t been able to defend their supplies, and therefore had deserved to lose them. Neither of them would lose a minute of sleep over such decisions, either. As Grace had begun to know them over the last several days, she had come to envy them the simplicity of that outlook, even though she could never share it.
She never forgot, though, not for an instant, that Levi was dangerous.
He stepped out of the same door Grace had exited a few minutes ago. Pausing for a moment to find out whether or not Tom Hanks was still around – he was not, sadly, though Verity said his presence in the hereafter was being enjoyed immensely – Levi stepped down off the porch and headed her way. He took a seat beside her, stretching out his long legs, and they sat in silence for a long, peaceful while, listening as the game rollicked on. After a time, Grace nodded her head at the boys.
“Why do they hide how they feel? They love each other.” She looked at Levi. “Are they afraid of you and what you’d think?”
Levi slid a sideways look at her, and for the first time, she got the feeling she’d surprised him. “I don’t know,” he said finally. “We’ve never discussed it.”
“When this is done, you should,” Grace said. “If we haven’t learned that, then what have we learned? Love is love. It’s stupid to turn away from it, whatever form it takes. You should let them know that it’s okay with you, if that’s what’s holding them back.”
“Yes ma’am.” The faintest thread of amusement ran through Levi’s voice, though his face betrayed none of it. “You left people who love you in Woodland Park. And if you make it through this, you don’t intend to go back.”
She
didn’t ask how he knew. It was moot, in any case. The probability of her living long enough to make that choice was low. “That’s different. I left them because that’s how I can best love them. How I can best serve them.” She smiled a sad smile, remembering. “My dad used to say he showed his love for us by serving our country, by doing his part to keep us safe. I guess you could say I’m following in his footsteps.”
“For argument’s sake, suppose you do survive. Where would you go, if not home?”
“To Piper.” She didn’t know it until she said it. “I would find Piper and stay with her.”
She looked over at him then, wondering if he knew how his whole body changed whenever Piper’s name came up. He was rubbing absently at the center of his chest, staring into a middle distance, and Grace decided it was time.
“You’re Brody.”
His eyes snapped to hers, but he didn’t answer right away. Then, “How long have you known?”
“Subconsciously, from the start.”
They stared at each other, two people who kept secrets as naturally as they breathed, letting all subterfuge between them drop and dissipate on the cool evening breeze. Grace had thought about this moment, but she had not decided what she would say. What she should say. On Piper’s behalf, on her own behalf, she should have been able to come up with something. Finally, she asked the only question that mattered to her.
“Why?”
Brody looked away. He was silent a long, long time, but she’d learned to wait. If he didn’t intend to answer, he would have walked away. She’d learned much about him in the past several days, and in that knowledge lay the key to a door she needed to open. She hadn’t put all the pieces together yet, but she could sense the picture forming.
“Power,” he said at last. He looked at her straight on, no apology, no defense. “Control.”
She thought about that. “If you could bend someone as strong as Piper to your will,” she said slowly, “You could believe you were in control. Of everyone. Everything.”