As evening approached and the air cooled, Greg Horner started shivering, prompting Jake to try building a fire. Gathering twigs and dead branches was easy enough – they'd gotten a good start on that fighting the bear – but starting a fire without matches or basic tools such as a knife was proving a challenge to Jake, who despite his survival schooling in the Marines managed only a few miserly puffs of smoke after twenty minutes of labor with a fire stick and dry twigs.
"We should've asked Rick for matches," said Tildie.
"We could've asked him for a thousand things." Jake tossed his fractured fire stick back in the woods. "Starting with decent knives, a compass, magnesium or flint stones, rope, fishing line. If I'd known this was going to turn into a survival outing..."
Jake was suddenly staring out from the camp with narrowed eyes. Jamie turned with the others to see the object of his attention, expecting to see the homicidal grizzly had returned, but what they saw was far more striking: a Native American sitting on a dappled horse across the lake, as unmoving as a painting. He could've been on a postcard, Jamie thought, with his traditional native garb, braided tresses hanging to his waist, a white feather in his hair, and bow cradled in one bronzed arm. It was haunting, as if they were gazing through a window into the past.
"Wonder what's up with Tonto?" Jake asked.
His words shattered the spell. Jamie raised a hand in greeting, but the Native American rider was already turning his horse away, with an abruptness that made her wonder if he'd somehow overheard Jake's coarse comment. Tildie stood up, waving her arms in the classic distress signal.
"Hey!" Her cry echoed across the river. "Any chance for some help?"
The Native glanced over his shoulder, his flat expression showing no acknowledgment of Tildie's furiously flailing arms before he merged into the dark shadows of the forest.
"Damn," Tildie breathed out. "He probably heard you, Culler. Man, do you like have a politically sensitive bone in your body?"
"God, I hope not."
"Rick told us there were Natives living out here," said Jamie. "I'm not sure how friendly they'd be to us."
"If they're smart, not too friendly," said Barry Apple. "I don't know how much any of you know about history, but their efforts to help white Europeans weren't rewarded very well."
"Well, boo-hoo." Jake was making violin-playing motions. "They faced a tougher race. Them's the breaks. Ever hear of Darwin?"
"My point is that maybe they've learned their lesson about that," said Barry, with more than a hint of distaste in his expression.
"Yeah, well, it's not like they or anyone else can help us do what we came here to do. We don't need help to survive." He nodded to his friend who was sleeping peacefully, his torn features already filling in. "Might be a tad uncomfortable, but we'll survive. First, we find Denise. Then we gotta figure a way outta here."
"What if we don't?" asked Jeremy. "At some point we might need to start making a life here."
Jamie turned to Steven Jackson, fighting down a small chill. "What do you think the odds are that we'll fail to escape this place?"
"The variables are complex and the unknowns are many." Steven was gazing out across the lake where the Native American had been. "I would rate the probability as slightly better than fifty percent."
Jamie's chill returned with a vengeance. From the others' expressions, they felt the same icy needles that were creeping through her veins.
"Where there's a will, there's a fucking way, as my pap always says," Jake stated. "The aliens haven't met red-blooded American ingenuity. But they'll soon see what it can do."
HORNER WAS fit for walking the next morning, but after another cold, damp night of fitful sleep their energy was low and the thick woods made going slow.
Their mood was even lower. Jamie sensed it in their heavy steps – more of a shamble, really – and their bowed heads. They might've been curious about exploring a genuine world, might've wanted to take in the sights, but the more they walked the more the place struck them as a collage of Earth. As Tildie said: "It's like someone decided, hey, let's create another planet that's just like Earth, with the same animals and sky, but pretty it up a bit."
Its strangeness was mundane, Jamie decided. The sense of fakeness weighed down on them.
"I can't believe those people are content with this obvious bullshit," said Jake. "What the hell's the point in heaven if it's just a fake version of Earth?"
"Yeah, but they don't know that," said Jay.
"Hell, might take them forever to find out," said Horner. "If the kid is right."
"He ain't wrong much," said Thomas.
The forest slowly surrendered to hilly plains. At first, it was a nice break, but the lack of shade and constant up and down soon wore on them. A column of smoke in the distance spoke of people.
"It's the prairie nig – " Jake caught himself. "I mean, Indigenous Peoples."
"Maybe they'd give us some chow," said Horner.
"Or maybe they'd cut out our eyes and bury us up to our necks in the sand."
Tildie made a skeptical noise. "What would be the point of that? They can't kill us."
"But they sure as hell could make us hurt."
"Denise was heading north," said Jamie. "She could've passed through here, encountered these people. We need to stop and ask."
Some Natives rode out to them as they approached a cluster of teepees. A blast from the past, like their guest the evening before – a study in leather leggings and breech cloths, braids, tanned skin, and impassive expressions.
"You are entering the territory of the United Tribes," said one of the men. "What business do you have here?"
"We're looking for a friend," said Jamie. She had to remind herself not to be surprised that the Native spoke in unaccented American English. They'd probably been in an American city or reservation months or perhaps only weeks ago. "Dark-haired. White. About my height."
The five men sat on their horses, a subtle look or two passing between them that told Jamie they had seen their friend.
"She stayed with us one night two days ago," said the first speaker.
"Did she say where she was going?"
"North, toward the city they call New Saints. Two days travel on foot from here."
"Thank you. That's where we're headed, too."
"May the Great Spirit guide your journey."
The Natives started to turn away.
"Any chance for some grub?" Thomas asked. "I ask as another persecuted brother."
The Indians paused, more looks – some hostile, some impassive – passed between them.
"Follow us into our village," the spokesman said. "You may speak to our head man."
The head man, Maipayminee – Deep Water - was the only person in the village of sixty or seventy people who wasn't young and comely. He had the appearance of the classic elderly American Indian sage: wiry, short, his face hanging in curtains of wrinkles below lively, penetrating dark eyes.
"Your friend had an interesting story," he said, having them sit in the grass by his tent, where two young women silently served them bowls of a meaty soup at his request. "She told me she was a government agent about to arrest Brian Loving when she was mortally wounded. Brian Loving saved her by sending her to the other side."
His voice was like a deep kettle drum softly struck to underscore each of his words.
"That's true," said Jamie.
"And you have come for her? To take her back?"
"Yes."
Jamie was grateful for his lack of surprise or any indication in his face that he thought she was on a fool's mission. The women who had served them retreated to a nearby rack which bore a bison hide and began beating it with sticks. Other villagers paused in their chores to note them, usually with an air of suspicion or hostility, but ducked their heads and resumed working when Jamie returned their looks. She could only imagine what they were thinking. The vanguard of a new white invasion?
"We believe this place is an il
lusion," Jamie said.
"Yes. But was the place we came from not also an illusion?"
Jamie smiled. "Maybe in some deep philosophical sense. But what I mean is that we believe this world is a virtual reality program. Designed by an incredibly advanced alien civilization." She paused as he regarded her blandly. "Do you know what virtual reality is?"
"Of course. Back on Earth I did not live in a cave." A crease appeared in the folds around his lips that she thought might've been a smile. "So we are in the Matrix then?"
"Something like that. You don't seem surprised."
"No, I suspected it was so. One day in the sweat lodge, the medicine thick in my veins – pejuta, what you call peyote – I glimpsed the real world, the world that lies beneath this." He gazed past them, toward distant mountain peaks, as though pondering his vision.
"So what did you see, Chief?" asked Jake.
Maipayminee glanced at him, a sardonic edge to his smile. "A great corridor, and within it everyone sleeping in caskets filled with lights."
No one spoke for a few seconds. Tildie and Jamie met each other's gaze.
"Bingo," said Tildie.
"Steven was right." Thomas slapped his young advisor's slim shoulders. "They done got us laid out and drugged out in comas or somethin', fillin' our heads with pretty visions."
"Did you tell Denise about this?"
"No. She didn't ask, as you have. Sometimes it is better not to destroy a person's illusions."
"What about the other villagers?" Tildie asked. "Do they know?"
"I have spoken to them about it."
"Have you tried to wake up?" Jamie asked.
"Why would we wish to do that?"
"Ah, to get back to reality?"
"Why would we wish to do that?" The elder chuckled in his kettle drum voice at her expression. "Daughter, what did that world hold for us? Our way of life, our traditions, were destroyed. Here, we can live according to the old ways. Our people can be restored."
"You mean 'fake-restored,'" said Jake.
"You know you can't die here, right?" Tildie asked. "I mean, they won't let you die."
"That was the promise. But I believe when it is our time, we will die. Time enough to raise new generations who will know only the true world."
"Building teepees and wearing stinking buffalo hides for the rest of eternity," Jake sniggered. "Now there's my idea of heaven."
"Son, what do you plan on doing for the rest of eternity?"
Jake gave him a double-take before shrugging. "I plan on getting out and pulling the plug on your fantasy land, kemosabe."
From the intent way Maipayminee was regarding him, a calculating glint in his dark eyes, Jamie wondered if her bigmouthed comrade had said too much. The elder Indian didn't give the impression he would appreciate anyone pulling the plug on his dream. But then he twitched his shoulders as if shrugging off a fly.
"You must follow your own path, son," he said. "What will happen will happen."
"Did Denise definitely say she was heading for that city, uh, New Saints?" asked Jamie.
"Yes, though I attempted to discourage her. It is a place of evil spirits, built on the desire for power." He ignored Jake and Horner's rolling eyes. "But what is a white person without such a city? It is in such places that they find false comfort."
"Says the guy who finds comfort in a make-believe world," Jake chuckled harshly, exchanging a low-five with Horner.
The head man's eyes crinkled – with amusement or perhaps something else. "May you find what you seek, son."
To Jamie that sounded suspiciously like a curse.
Chapter 28
THEY DEPARTED THE VILLAGE better-rested and considerably richer the next morning. A warm, dry night in one of the teepees was followed by a generous breakfast of fresh venison and parting gifts of two knives, a bow and quiver of arrows, two bison hides, a cooking pan, and pemmican for the road. Even Jake and Horner expressed gratitude for the unexpected bounty – they both commandeered the knives and Hulk the bow – and Jake went so far as to apologize for his remarks the evening before, telling the chief he hadn't meant to disparage his vision and hoped it would work out for him and his people here.
"Seemed like a helluva guy for a Redskin," Jake said later as they hiked north. "I feel kinda bad we're gonna fuck it all up for them."
"Isn't that what we always do?" Barry inquired.
"Good point. Guess it's in our blood."
"Jeez," said Tildie. "Even when you're trying to be nice you're still full of shit."
"It's one of my special charms." He grinned at her.
"Least now we can start living large." Horner tapped his bow. "It may not beat my Cam Fusion, but I bet I can kill something with this. I got me a hankerin' for more venison. Or maybe one of those big turkeys we seen runnin' through the woods."
"Let's not get carried away," Tildie cautioned. "We might need Jake later for some dirty chore. Besides, I'll bet his meat would be tough."
"Bet you wouldn't say that if you tasted it."
"Hey!" Jay protested. "In case you hadn't noticed, that's my girlfriend you're talking to."
"In case you hadn't noticed, your girlfriend has a big mouth."
Late that afternoon, Horner shot and wounded a big buck, but despite tracking its blood trail for over a mile was never able to find it. They settled for a light meal of their remaining pemmican. Horner and Jake strung up the bison hides for a shelter, but the night remained clear and warm.
On the second day of travel, Horner bagged a couple of rabbits, which they made into a stew that evening after setting up camp.
On the third day they stumbled upon a path peppered by recent footsteps. Then they encountered lush agricultural fields.
The city that loomed before them was straight out of the Middle Ages, or Jamie's fantasy of the Middle Ages: brick towers, parapets, a half-completed wall, colorful banners, people swirling amidst the buildings in colorful flowing robes, dresses, vests, and bonnets. A huge dirigible with a brilliant orange and black cross floated over the city like some giant advertisement.
"Medieval World?" Tildie ventured.
"That blimp is a nice touch," said Jay.
A sign greeted them near the edge of the city: NEW SAINTS. HARD WORK. HARD FUN. PURE OF HEART WELCOME. Population 50,000 And Growing!
"I thought you couldn't get in here unless you were pure of heart," said Jake.
Tildie scratched her head. "The theology of this place doesn't seem very consistent."
"She is here."
Everyone turned to Kim-Ly, who'd been silent to the point of near-invisibility since their arrival. The thin Vietnamese girl met Jamie's eyes for a fleeting second before returning her gaze to its usual focus on the ground. A pensive frown had crept into her expression.
"I didn't think your power was working here," said Jamie, a small flash of hope in her dark thoughts. She realized then how much they'd been missing her powers. Kim-Ly offered a possibly dramatic reprieve from their blundering along like a ship without a compass.
"It has not, mostly," the girl murmured. "But sometimes something comes through. This is first time I see something clearly since we come here."
"What do you see?"
"I see Denise feeling great pain. She need our help."
"What's happening to her?" asked Jake, an atypical note of anguish in his voice.
"She is confined...a prisoner. Punished."
"Can you see where she is?" Jamie asked.
Kim-Ly stared at the ground, turning her head as if surveying the individual blades of grass at their feet.
"She is within the city. I believe outdoors. I see a road between buildings..."
Kim-Ly lifted her head, her face a shade paler than usual.
"That's it?" Jake demanded.
"There is great danger for us."
"There's great danger for anyone who's hurt her."
"Damn straight, partner," said Hulk, hoisting his bow. "Anyone who fucks with one of us is
gonna pay."
Jamie wished she felt more optimistic about that. Without super powers, as she'd noted before, they were a couple of tough guys plus a dozen average Joes and Jills – against some fifty thousand people waiting inside the city. And from the clothing she was seeing – like something out of a medieval fashion show - they'd stand out just as much in their jeans and shirts as if they'd been wearing their IED uniforms.
Just beyond the sign they encountered what Jamie first thought was a fruit stand, but the sign hanging from the roof announced VISITOR RULES AND EMPLOYMENT OPPORTUNITIES. The bored-looking young man behind the front counter perked up as they approached.
"Hi," he greeted them. "I'm Jacob. Where are you folks from?"
"Earth," drawled Jake.
"Ha." The young man's smile slipped a notch. "I mean here."
"We came from Eden," said Jamie.
"Oh. Eden." Jacob's smile slipped another notch before brightening. "It's quite different here. We're not trying to rebuild modern-day civilization. Look at all its problems! We're trying a simpler approach, staying away from the modern technology – you know, the internet, electricity, movies, that kind of thing."
"Plumbing?" asked Tildie, wrinkling her nose a little. As they'd neared the city, a certain odor – Jamie thought it resembled a cross between a convalescent home and a pig farm – had made its presence known.
"Sure." Their greeter chuckled ruefully. "We've had a major influx of people the last few weeks, and Public Works is struggling a bit to keep up. But we basically have a clean city here. Clean in all ways."
"What the fuck does that mean?" Horner asked.
Jacob's smile slipped away altogether. With a chilly frown he edged a brochure over the wood counter.
"This might give you a better idea of what we're about."
Jamie opened it. The first several pages listed rules that appeared to be handwritten. Near the top of the list was "Use Of Foul Language Prohibited In Public Areas." Examples of foul language, predictably, included "fuck."
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