Had he put the drawing pads and pencils back in their hiding place? Mister Cheney said he should hide his artwork. After showing the one of the dead puppy to his mother and seeing the unhappy look on her face instead of the happy one she usually made when he showed her pictures of trees or houses, Mister Cheney said he should just keep them private. Other people wouldn’t understand them, and some artwork wasn’t meant for anyone but the artist.
He felt worried for a long minute as he thought about everything he’d done before leaving. Then when he remembered putting the drawings back under his underwear (that always cracked him up...he thought under underwear was a great hiding place and it also sounded funny), he felt better. Yes, he had definitely put them back in the drawer. If someone were to open that drawer, all they would see is underwear. He couldn’t imagine anyone would want to move a bunch of boxer shorts around...some of them weren’t even clean. The drawings were safe. The thought made him smile.
###
“Why did we stop?” Pablo asked, standing next to his motorcycle, taking the opportunity to stretch his muscles. Why had these two-wheeled Roman candles been so popular? Sure, you could go fast, but they were uncomfortable. And cold.
“We’re less than a half hour away from the state line,” Dani replied.
They had taken I70 east to I35 south, then skirted the worst of the Wichita exodus by utilizing the I235 loop. The green highway sign under which they had stopped read South Haven, next exit. A frigid north wind pummeled them, whipping the chartreuse scarf wrapped around Pablo’s neck. It was perhaps the ugliest item he had ever owned; a parting gift from Maddie, knitted by her own hands and therefore priceless. He just hoped her knitting skills improved with time.
“That isn’t an answer.”
“You’re not going to like the answer.” An evil grin uncoiled on the pretty face.
At that moment, Pablo could have punched the orthodontic perfection down the attached throat. For the life of him, he could not see why people liked this woman. Yes, she was attractive. Stunning, actually. But her cold, austere beauty was diametrically opposed to the warm, delicate loveliness that was Maddie. Dani was a snow-capped mountain range unveiled by an arctic sunrise. Maddie was a balmy, languorous sunset over turquoise waters. Dani was insufferable. And abrupt. And condescending. Personality traits he also shared, but felt obliged to stifle on a daily basis. Not so for Dani. She left them unchecked and unfettered. Hell, she basked in them.
“What am I not going to like?”
“We need to ditch the bikes. They’ll hear them coming a mile away.”
“You’re joking. Please tell me you’re joking.”
“I’m not. Think about it, Pablo. You’re a smart guy. The key to the success of this venture is stealth. There’s nothing stealthy about two revving motorcycle engines.”
He had no answer.
“We’ll leave the bikes here and continue on foot. Stuff your backpack with water from the saddlebags. We can go without food if we have to. I hope you’re wearing comfortable walking shoes,” she added over her shoulder as she wheeled the Yamaha down into the drainage culvert which flanked the highway. When she tipped it over on its side, it was no longer visible from above.
He gritted his teeth, biting off the words he wanted to say, and followed the next moment. He had hated the discomfort of the bike not five minutes earlier. Now, contemplating the distance they would be walking, he realized something, as he had many times during his life and especially after Chicxulub: things can always get worse.
After he loaded his pack with supplies – water and food...this wasn’t his first rodeo and he would carry whatever the hell he wanted in his pack – he returned to the blacktop where Logan and Dani waited.
“I think we can make ten more miles today,” she said, pulling out a tattered Rand McNally road map. “That’ll put us almost into Oklahoma. We know they’re north of Guthrie, according to Amelia and courtesy of your psychic girlfriend. So they could be anywhere in this area.” A gloved finger circled a small section.
Pablo studied the map with a frown. “It’s eighty miles to Guthrie.”
“Yes, but as I just explained, they’re no longer in Guthrie,” she replied with exaggerated patience. “They could be fifty miles north of Guthrie now. They could be five miles away from us even as we speak. We don’t know, so we have to assume the worst.”
Blue eyes locked with golden. Logan stood off to the side, watching the exchange with a slack-jawed expression. Pablo barely registered his presence. He was in a stand-off with this creature; a non-verbalized battle of wills...
...which he knew he would lose, because she was absolutely right.
###
Pablo’s Journal Entry #452
Arrogance has a face, and it belongs to the woman who holds my fate in her wretched hands. She is a puto arrogante on steroids. She is the antithesis of all that is gentle and compassionate and kind. I suppose we need such as her – the chemotherapy that almost kills the patient – but good lord she’s unbearable. How does Sam love this vile creature? She’s all sharp edges and jagged corners. If I survive this mission, I shall refuse to embark on any venture with her again.
Some might say that when I look at her, it’s like looking into a mirror. I realize now how others felt when I talked down to them. She assumes she’s always the most intelligent person in every discussion. I behaved that way too, once upon a time. My humble parents almost seemed apologetic of their extraordinary son. It was awkward enough for them that my skin and eyes were lighter than those of all the other immigrant children. Despite being proud of my intellect and talent, I think they felt it aroused unwanted attention (never a good thing when one has entered the country illegally), and my youthful braggadocio was an affront to the collective humility of our people. White Americans want to shout their genius from the highest mountaintop, and Dani is the quintessential white American. For most of my adult life, I’ve tried to resist that inclination; and I admit it hasn’t always been easy. Being smart doesn’t give one carte blanche to treat others with disdain or disrespect. I know this now. But is this woman self-aware enough to see that? Does she know how awful she is? Probably. Does she care? Clearly not.
Enough on that subject.
We’re bedded down under an overpass in northern Oklahoma. Of course we couldn’t build a fire that might be seen by Isaiah – evil has a name now – so I’m writing by LED light on the lowest setting of my flashlight. I’m thankful the tempest has diminished to mere thirty mile-per-hour gusts. The scent of snow, a dreadful harbinger earlier in the day, proved toothless, manifesting in only a few capricious flakes. We also receive a modicum of relief from the buffering concrete overhead and behind our miserable camp.
Completing this horrific Hat Trick, this Perfect Storm of suffering, is the presence of Logan.
I could fill my journal with colorful descriptions of his strange behavior, his odd verbiage, his unsettling smile. He is one for the books. And by ‘books,’ I mean case studies of eminent oddballs. I don’t expect to get any sleep tonight between the cold, the cement mattress, and the fear of what Logan might do when I close my eyes.
Chapter 33
Oklahoma
“You were wrong, Lieutenant. Nothing came of that blizzard you forecasted. If I had listened to you, we would still be in Perry. Fortunate for everyone that I didn’t take your advice.” Isaiah’s gesture astride the Friesian indicated the marching army spread out on foot around them. “We would have delayed reaching our New Rome.”
The overcast sky provided the perfect backdrop for the magnificence that was Isaiah and his war horse. Lily, who ‘refused to ride any beast that had a will of its own,’ could barely keep her eyes off their general from where she walked beside him.
Martin got that sickening feeling again. How could Isaiah expect him to accurately predict the weather? It had been an impossible situation earlier, and when his opinion had been sought, he had taken the softer position: that of stayin
g another day or two in the relative comfort of the Holiday Inn Express in Perry, Oklahoma. Nothing had come from what felt like a snow-laden artic front, and he had ended up on the losing side of the daily game of ‘advising their general.’
Lily had been the winner. As a native Oklahoman, she was more knowledgeable on the local weather than he was. In Texas it was rare to see more than one snow event in a winter. But nothing mattered other than who gave the best advice when it was asked for, and she was beating him at almost every turn these days. He had noticed Isaiah studying him recently; a sideways, smile-less, calculating inspection. He knew he was being measured with a yardstick as long as it was daunting. What rational, reasonable, sane person could pass muster? The answer was Lily, because she was none of those things. She was as bat-shit crazy as Isaiah, and she loved him unconditionally...a hell hound devoted to a single master.
“I’m sorry, sir.” He wanted to add: I’m not a fucking meteorologist. But of course he didn’t. He preferred to stay alive. He knew that he teetered on the thinnest of tightropes, and all he could do was apologize, work on his escape plan, and hope that he could implement it before he was hanged from the nearest tree.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were distracted. What could be occupying your mind these days? It better not be a woman. Or worse, a man. You know that nonsense is forbidden until we’ve achieved our goal and vanquished our foes. Sex is such a waste of one’s energy. It serves a purpose, of course. We must be fruitful and multiply!” The rich laughter was unexpected and welcome. It was usually a good sign. Usually. “But now is not the time nor place for it.”
Martin responded with a careful smile. “No, sir. It’s nothing like that. I guess I’m just tired. I know that’s no excuse, and I’ll try to be less distracted.”
Isaiah glanced down at the woman trudging along beside him. “What do you think, Lieutenant Lily? Is our Martin merely fatigued or is he having thoughts of a more subversive nature? Rebellious, reckless ruminations?”
Lily had added more layers of rags to her wardrobe during the last week. Underneath all those tattered garments was probably a lithe, muscular body, but they made her appear bulky. God only knew what she carried in all those pockets and pouches.
Her gaze glided from Isaiah to him; her eyes were so black it was difficult to tell where the pupils ended and the irises began. She scanned him from top to bottom without blinking and without missing a step.
Finally she spoke. “I can’t decide what’s going on in his head. Sometimes I think he is committed to our mission, and other times I think he would prefer to be someplace else.”
“Sir, I admit I’m no fan of the cold,” Martin replied quickly. “Can I be blamed for an occasional daydream? Thoughts of, as you yourself mentioned, a warm comfortable bed and a place to call home? Yes, I’d prefer to be someplace else, but that someplace is our New Rome. I share your vision as much as she does.”
After a long moment, Isaiah nodded. He had bought it. This time.
“You shall have your warm bed soon enough. At our current pace, we’ll be in Kansas in two days. Now focus! No more distracted, diverted dithering. The only thoughts filling your head should be those which benefit our noble quest. Are we clear?”
“Yes, sir.” Martin’s mouth was so dry he could barely get the words out. He glanced at Lily once Isaiah’s attention had moved away from him. He expected to see an expression of smug satisfaction at having prevailed, again, over her rival. Instead, the pallid, nondescript face was thoughtful.
The next moment he almost fell off his horse in surprise when one of the black eyes winked at him. It was followed by a widening of the thin-lipped mouth. With her pasty skin stretched tightly across the underlying scaffold of bone, she looked like a cadaver who had heard an amusing joke.
What the wink and smile meant would be the subject of much speculation during the cold dark night to follow.
Chapter 34
“Natalie, I appreciate the offer, but I rarely need help. And on the occasion that I do, Julia is kind enough to lend a hand.”
Marilyn the Librarian was looking almost pretty these days. No, that was hyperbole. She was less unattractive. She had put on a few pounds, as had Natalie herself; an improvement for both women. There was some color to her cheeks, which highlighted the underlying bone structure; nowhere near the perfection of her own, but adequate. And was the woman wearing lipstick or were the thin lips naturally pink? Natalie grudgingly admitted to herself that when Marilyn smiled, it transformed her face.
And the smile happened often these days. Getting laid must agree with her.
Natalie felt a nauseating wave of jealousy.
“Please. You would be doing me such a favor. Working at the hospital is mind-numbingly boring. And Cate makes my skin crawl. I think she’s a lesbian. I catch her staring at my ass and boobs several times a day.”
“You should be used to that,” Marilyn said with a grin.
“True. But it’s different coming from a woman. I’m not interested in women...in that way. I don’t want to be her sexual fantasy.”
“That seems like a leap. Who cares what her sexual preference is? Has she made advances? Touched you inappropriately?”
“No, no. Of course not. She’s not stupid. Just odd and creepy.”
“Well, there’s plenty of odd and creepy in town these days.”
“So true.”
Having regular access to Marilyn would make it easier to get rid of her. Natalie’s objective was to remove all obstacles blocking her path back to Steven. Something would have to be done about Calvin too, but that shouldn’t be difficult. She was fucking him, which meant she had complete control over him.
“Maybe just a few hours a couple of times a week. Let’s say Tuesday and Friday afternoons. Those are your distribution days, right? It must get hectic sorting the supplies and handing them out to everyone. I’ll still be putting in my fifty work hours, but some of them will be helping you instead of Cate.”
“I don’t know. Of course I’d need to check with Steven first. Did you run it by Calvin?”
“Yes. He’s perfectly fine with it.”
Marilyn hesitated. She seemed to be giving serious consideration to the request while studying the woman who’d made it.
“We can talk about books while we work,” Natalie said. “I’m a bibliophile, just like you. My degree is in English Literature.” She leaned in and continued in a conspiratorial tone, “I have an early Emily Bronte edition. I’ll bring it next time I come.”
Marilyn’s eyes gleamed. “Jayne Eyre?”
“Much rarer. Wuthering Heights.”
When she saw the wide grin on the plain face of Liberty’s former librarian, she knew the bait had been taken...every wriggling, tantalizing bit of it.
Chapter 35
Every few seconds, Julia took her eyes off the windshield and the unfurling ribbon of blacktop beyond so she could scrutinize the drainage ditches that ran parallel to the highway. The sun had almost set and even with the headlights on, visibility was poor. The knuckles that gripped the steering wheel of the stolen truck were fish-belly white. It had taken immense patience to drive slowly enough so she wouldn’t overlook any evidence of the scouting mission’s presence, or their passing through. They would have hidden the motorcycles and be on foot by now. That’s what she would have done this close to the Oklahoma border. Isaiah’s army could be near enough to hear the motorcycles’ engines, and Dani would never have compromised the mission for the sake of comfort.
The next moment the headlights reflected off something in the drainage ditch. She pulled the truck over to the shoulder, then got out to investigate. The reflection had come from the rearview mirror of a motorcycle. She recognized both bikes from the glimpse through Steven’s upstairs window. Other than a handlebar sticking up slightly, they wouldn’t be visible from the highway. If she hadn’t had the headlights on to see the reflection in a tiny section of exposed mirror, she would have missed th
em.
It was time for her to go on foot.
Two hours later, her feet were killing her and she was chilled to the core. She hadn’t taken the time to put on decent walking shoes before she had hauled ass out of Liberty, and her parka was barely adequate. There would be hell to pay for stealing the vehicle; or more accurately, for using gas in a non-sanctioned endeavor.
Her mind didn’t fully register the discomfort nor indulge in worry over the consequences of her actions. She had to get to Logan and Dani. Nothing else mattered.
The next moment, her tenacity was rewarded. Fifty yards ahead she could see the glow of an LED flashlight. Then it vanished. Her eyes had adjusted to full darkness and she could make out the concrete overpass under which the threesome must be camped. If she had seen them, it was likely they had seen her too. Covert motility was not her forte.
She called out in the cold night air.
“Logan, it’s me!”
A shadowy form materialized out of the darkness ten feet beside her.
“Julia, what are you doing here?”
“Where is Dani?”
“She’s behind me somewhere. Why are you here?”
He stood next to her now, close enough for her to see confusion on the handsome face. An invisible icy hand twisted her guts, but she had her story ready.
“We got more information from Maddie about Isaiah’s location. Someone needed to deliver it to Dani and I volunteered. Is she under the bridge?”
“No, I’m right here.” Another shadow detached itself from the gloom.
She thought she might faint from relief.
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