Flame

by Jim Heskett

  He now understood what it was.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Valentine opened all the cupboards in the kitchen, hunting through the collection of spices to find the salt. The bread from the bread box had a certain mustiness to it that turned her stomach. A little salt would kill the odor and liven it right up.

  After scouring through every single available food storage option, she finally gave up. Looked like she would have no salt today. She did find sugar, which was something she hadn't seen in quite a long time. It would make a lovely addition to the tea she had brewed. So, she mixed a spoonful into her tea and then walked the glass out into the living room, where her host was tied to the chair with the ornately carved back. Valentine wasn't much for antique furniture, but this woman had collected a lifetime's worth of unusual things. So many objects within a few meters to catch her attention.

  Valentine pulled a stool from the corner and placed it in front of the woman and then sat down. She reached forward and lifted the gag off the old lady's mouth.

  "Don't you have any salt?"

  The old woman shook her head. Panting and crying. "I was going to go to Cheyenne and find some at the market today or tomorrow."

  “They have salt for trade at the markets down there?”

  She nodded.

  "That's interesting. How are you going to get there? The bus? I don't see a car in your garage or out in front of your house.”

  The woman's eyes widened. “Yes, the bus. That's how I'll get to Cheyenne. I should hurry along, or I might miss it.”

  Valentine sipped her tea and then set it aside. She drew the knife from the sheath on her belt, which made the woman whimper. Valentine let the knife linger in the air, hovering, enjoying the way the aging woman’s eyes followed it with panic and interest.

  Valentine pressed the point of the blade against her own fingertip and then twirled the knife, catching it midair. "I know you're lying to me. And it's my mistake. I should've intervened days ago when I had the best opportunity.” She leaned forward, making sure she had the old woman's attention. “But, I misjudged them and let my curiosity overpower my sense of urgency. And that's my problem. No one's fault but the one looking back in the mirror, as the saying goes. I also had a solid chance an hour ago when I saw Yorick and the pale girl in town. They evaded me. That is also my fault. You can imagine how upset I am about all this opportunity slipping from my fingers. Maybe I’m a little distracted because the pinche soldados put my friends on pikes outside of town, but it’s no excuse for this sloppiness, is it?”

  “I’m sorry that happened to you.”

  Valentine grinned at the old woman’s attempt to placate her. “Where did you obtain all these loco toys in your house?”

  The old woman’s eyes darted around, flashing at various examples of the curious objects around the room. “I don’t know. Different places.”

  Valentine pointed at a particular painting on the wall of a man with a tall hat, a gaunt face, and a beard. “Like that one. Who is that and where did it come from?”

  “I got that in Helena.”

  Valentine’s eyes widened. “Up north? In Frenchie country?”

  The old woman nodded. “My husband had some friends up there. We used to go often before he passed.”

  “And who is this man in the painting?”

  “It’s Abraham Lincoln.”

  “Who?”

  “The sixteenth president of the United States.”

  Valentine’s head tilted back with recognition. Not the name, but she did know what a president was. A relic of the old government, the one that had failed the people and had needed to be destroyed. “How do you think King Nichol would feel about you displaying such a painting?”

  The old woman stuttered. “There’s nothing illegal about having a painting. And I would never disobey the king’s law.”

  “What's your name?" Valentine asked.

  "Petunia."

  "That's a very lovely name. Well, Petunia, I will tell you another thing: I'm done making mistakes. I'm done underestimating people. They have a prize, these four, that's worth more than you can imagine. I suspect even they have no idea how valuable it is. Do you know about Ramirez Control Chips?”

  The old woman shook her head. She wore an honest look of confusion on her face.

  Valentine studied the woman for a moment and debated whether to tell her. Then, with a sigh, she realized that in another minute or two, it wouldn't matter. "You told me your name, Petunia, would you like to know mine?"

  Petunia sat there. She didn't seem to know how to react.

  "My name is Valentine Beauregard Wybert." At the mention of the last name, Petunia's eyebrows did raise a little.

  “Aha. You do know this name."

  "Yes," Petunia said, "I've heard of the Wyberts. The plantación up near what used to be Jackson."

  Valentine nodded. "That's right, the Wybert plantación."

  "Are you his daughter?"

  Valentine laughed. "Hardly. Nothing so scandalous as that. He's my grandfather's cousin’s son, or something similar. I think he's an uncle of some sort. Third uncle, fourth uncle… only the stars know for sure. But the point is, he's family. Not close family, because my kind—the White Flames—would never have been allowed on the grounds of his plantación. But, that family name did allow me some inside information from time to time. Did you know about his plan to rise up against the king?”

  Petunia shook her head.

  "I didn't think so. And it doesn't matter about his terribly kept secret now, does it? All that matters is that the four people who you've been harboring in your house left out of there with an incredible prize. And, that I want this prize more than anything in the world. I would do absolutely anything to get it, you understand?”

  "I don't know what you're talking about."

  Valentine felt the anger surge through her, from her toes to her head. The woman’s ignorance was wearing on her. She leaned forward and flicked the knife across Petunia’s nose. Just a scratch, really. But enough to draw blood.

  Tears streamed down the old woman’s face as she began to babble.

  "That's not a good answer, Petunia." Valentine gestured with her knife toward the wall, at a small wooden shelf with four hooks below it. Three of those four hooks contained rings with keys. But the fourth hook was empty. "You're missing a set of keys from your key collection over there, aren't you?"

  Still crying, Petunia hung her head. "Yes.”

  “No more games, old woman. Tell me what I want to know.”

  “I sold them my car so they can go to Colorado,” Petunia said as her head hung down.

  Valentine leaned even closer in her stool. "Good, Petunia. Very good. Now, one more question: why?”

  Chapter Thirty

  CHEYENNE

  They arrived in Cheyenne in the dead of night. Although he couldn’t see much in the darkness, it didn’t appear to be the giant metropolis Yorick had been led to believe. A few dozen lights from buildings and houses hovered in the night sky. It was roughly the same size as Rock Springs, except without half the city gone from a missile or major bomb blast. If there were any damage from the war, Yorick would have to wait until morning to see it.

  Despite the relatively small size of the city, the wall to the south of town was enormous. While he couldn’t see the wall itself, the guide lights at the top of it floated two hundred or three hundred meters in the air. No way to know for sure at a distance, but definitely taller than the walls of the plantación.

  As rumored, the wall appeared to run the length of the state border. Keeping Colorado in, or keeping Wyoming out? Yorick didn’t know his history well enough to recall exactly to which side each state had remained loyal during the war. Or, if loyalties even ran along state lines. The basic history lessons from his youth were now so fuzzy, and at a certain age, he learned not to trust them, anyway.

  But, he knew for sure that this wall had not always been here. So, for some reason, people
with enough power and funding had spent an enormous effort to construct it. The flow of traffic from one place to another had been of great concern, but the reasons may have already been lost to history. The yellowing text he’d taken from the corpse in the mountain house hadn’t said anything about state lines.

  Yorick looked down at the instrument panel. Battery life at 3%. Not too bad, considering it was nearly 400k from Rock Springs and they’d only had to stop once halfway to power up the car.

  More surprising was how easy Yorick took to driving a car for only the second time in his life. One lever for brake, one lever for accelerate. He learned quickly not to press them both at the same time. With hands on the wheel to keep it straight, a slight shift of the wheel would turn the car. It wasn’t that hard at all. Plus, the self-driving assist took over any time he swerved or braked too hard.

  When the battery life dropped to 1%, Yorick pulled the car over to the side of the road. His three companions were asleep, and he had no desire to wake them. He locked the doors and opened the solar panels to await the sun’s power. Then, he reclined his seat and closed his eyes.

  When Yorick awoke, the sun had risen in Cheyenne, and Rosia shifted in the passenger seat of the car, smiling at him. His eyes fluttered a few times, and then he smiled back at her.

  “We made it,” she whispered.

  A part of Yorick was tempted to answer back but at what cost? Instead, he reached out and laced his fingers inside hers. “We’re not done yet, though.”

  “Battery dead?”

  “Charging. But, not enough for it to drive yet.”

  They stared at each other for a moment, and Yorick felt like he needed to bring it up. The feeling gnawed at the back of his mind. “A week ago, when we found that avión wreckage?”

  Rosia nodded. “Yes?”

  “There were four White Flames there in the car below us. But, the next time we ran into that same group, there were only three.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “And?”

  “I saw the fourth, back in Rock Springs, yesterday evening. As Malina and I were leaving the brothel, she was there. She recognized me, and she came after us. We only got away because there was already a lot of chaos in the streets.”

  “What do you think it means that she wasn’t with the other three?”

  Yorick swallowed. “I think she’s been hunting us on her own. I don’t think she’s like the others. Whoever she is and why she was with those three that attacked us at the inn, I don’t know. But there was something in her eyes… something more intense than I’ve ever seen before.”

  “Well,” Rosia began, and then halted when Tenney made a sound in the back of the car. He and Malina were both stirring.

  Tenney winced as he sat up, then yawned. Since the aborted attempt to catch the bus in Rock Springs, Tenney had improved rapidly. He’d been claiming he was fine, of course, but he was still clearly in pain. Regardless, he could move at almost normal speed, and his face had a lightness to it this morning it hadn’t shown since before his injury.

  Malina, however, was not the same. Since her rescue from the brothel yesterday, she’d not said a single word. Yorick had no idea what had happened to her there in the short time they’d held her captive. Whatever it was, she wouldn’t talk about it. She stayed close to Tenney, often hiding her face against his chest or shoulder.

  Tenney held her hand, and she gave him a fleeting and thin smile, then she returned to staring out the window.

  “Good morning, everyone,” Yorick said. “We’re here, but the car is out of juice. I thought the solar cells would’ve charged up already, but the battery is still only at four percent.”

  “How long has it been charging?” Rosia asked.

  Yorick squinted at the panel behind the steering wheel, and he noted a message on the screen there.

  Entering deep sleep mode

  Running diagnostic on battery life

  Estimated time to complete: 014 hours

  “Is this for real?” he said.

  Rosia leaned in close. “That’s not good.”

  Seemed the car Petunia had sold them wasn’t in great shape. The screen dimmed as the car went into this “sleep” mode. The interior lights cut out and the doors automatically unlocked.

  “Okay,” Yorick said. “I guess we’re walking. Wall’s not too far, though, so let’s gather our gear.”

  “Today’s the last day to pass through the tunnel?” Tenney asked. Even his gravelly voice had improved this morning.

  “If what they said before was true,” Yorick said. “Only one way to find out. The tunnel entrance is at the southern edge of town.”

  “How do you know that?” Tenney asked.

  Yorick pointed to a road sign up ahead, with an arrow pointing and the words Border Tunnel, 4km. Tenney grunted as he leaned forward to read the sign. Yorick considered asking him how his side felt, but Tenney would reply that he was fine, no matter how he was actually feeling.

  A few minutes later, they were all on their way. Tenney and Malina hung back, she still not speaking and he keeping her close to him. Her hand hovered near her neck where she used to wear a locket. She’d fiddled with it constantly. Maybe it had been left in her bag, the one she’d failed to retrieve.

  Cheyenne was the cleanest and most organized of the cities or towns they’d seen so far. Paved streets, taller buildings, a variety of businesses. There even seemed to be a network of slim paths for bicycles and pedestrians. A real city, like those Yorick and Rosia read about in the contraband books at the plantación.

  On a nearby building, a large poster showed the skyline of a city, with mountains in the distance. The bulky silhouette of a man stood tall over all of it. The text below read King Nichol Keeps the First City Safe. He Keeps All of Us Safe.

  The wall south of town towered over everything. Like a giant wave ready to crash onto the city and wipe it out in one final splash.

  This early in the morning, however, there were no civilians about. Just as well since most of the people they’d encountered had been nothing but trouble.

  As they had many times on their journey so far, they split into two walking couples. Yorick and Rosia held hands as they walked among the city streets. Yorick stayed ready for problems because he’d come to count on things not being as they seemed. Even though Cheyenne appeared to be a quiet place with no outward danger, experience told him that could change in an instant.

  “How are you feeling?” Rosia asked him.

  “Excited. Nervous. I’m ready for this to end. Ready to find my parents and then figure out what the next step is for us.”

  She smiled and squeezed his hand. “I’m glad we could do this together.”

  “I’ll never go anywhere without you,” he said as he squeezed back.

  “You’re the one keeping me sane through all this,” Rosia said. “You’re keeping us all sane.”

  Some early morning pedestrians gave them the eye, so Yorick and Rosia pulled closer to Tenney and Malina to form a cohesive unit. No trouble came from it, however. Just regular people, going about their lives.

  After an hour walking, they could see the entrance to the tunnel. Yorick’s heart thumped in his chest. A road led into it, and there were guard stations on either side. A half-dozen men armed with rifles unlike any Yorick had ever seen. They had big scopes on top and an electronic two-digit readout along the side.

  These men guarded the open mouth of the tunnel. The way they held their rifles indicated they were ready for anything.

  As Yorick and his friends approached, one of the guards stepped forward, his rifle’s nose pointed to the ground, a hand raised to keep them back.

  Yorick came to a halt five meters from the entrance. The guard nodded at Malina’s arm, peeling with signs of sunburn. “That one. She’s not a sun worshipper, is she? Your kind isn’t allowed in Cheyenne.”

  “She’s not,” Tenney said.

  “Fine, then,” the guard said. “State your business.”

 
“We want to pass under the tunnel and into Colorado. How far is it to Harmony?”

  “The city of Harmony is directly on the other side of the border. If you’re on foot, you’ve got a bit of a jog, but it shouldn’t take you too long. Stick to the tunnel sides, so you don’t interrupt any vehicle traffic.”

  “Can we go now?” Yorick asked.

  The guard didn’t move a muscle. “Permits?”

  “What?” Yorick asked.

  “I’ll need to see your permits, please. Also, submit your bags for search.”

  Rosia pulled her backpack tighter. She was carrying the chips. Yorick could guess that those would be the first thing they would confiscate.

  So, they needed to regroup somewhere and hide the chips on their persons instead. That was one problem. He still didn’t know what they were for or why they were valuable, but something told him to guard those chips and keep them safe. Enough blood had already been spilled because of those tiny devices.

  “How much for the permits?” Yorick asked. “We have gold.”

  The guard shook his head. “Sorry, we don’t sell permits here. The permit office is four blocks north, two blocks east, on Sheridan Street. But, it’s closed today.”

  Yorick felt his heart plummet. “And the tunnel is closing tonight?”

  The guard shook his head. “This side closes in two hours.”

  “Then what do we do? We need to get through there as soon as possible.”

  “I’m not sure what to tell you,” the guard said.

  Rosia turned up her palms. “Is there anything we can do?”

  The guard shook his head. “Sorry, muchachos. No permit? Then you’re not getting through this tunnel today.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Yorick and the others had no trouble at all breaking into the permit office. As the guard at the tunnel gate had said, it was closed. Tenney and Malina waited outside to act as lookouts as Yorick and Rosia broke the lock on the door and slipped inside. Not the most subtle entrance, but if they didn’t do this today, then none of it would matter. Nothing that happened after this would matter as far as Yorick was concerned.