Silences settled over the group.
Jason and I stopped on the periphery, earning hasty glances and tight smiles. They’d all heard the shot; they knew Houdini’s fate and knew the cart horses—along with any other horse that collapsed—would suffer the same fate.
“I’m with Sanchez,” Jason said. “I think heading for the nearest town and doing whatever it takes to get access to their water supply is our only move at this point.” He looked at me, and when I nodded, he shifted his focus to Grayson. “Daniel?”
The eldest and undeniably wisest member of our group nodded as well, and one by one, so did the others.
By the time we reached the “town”—the label was even less applicable to this one than it had been to the last—we’d lost another horse and were down to only one cart and the wagon. As far as I could tell, it appeared to be a single farm, lonesome and dried up in the middle of the high desert. We stopped about a quarter of a mile away to assess any possible dangers before diving in.
“Do you sense anything?” Jason asked Zoe as she walked to the front of the caravan. When she shook her head, he shifted his focus to me. “And your scouts still aren’t picking up on anything?”
I, too, shook my head and, staring up at the sky, watched the pale pinpoint that was Ray grow as she glided closer.
Jason exhaled heavily and nodded in slow motion. It was clear that he was reticent to believe we’d caught a break. Eager, but reticent.
I started salivating at the thought of gulping down water. How I still had enough moisture in my body to salivate was beyond me, but I couldn’t wait to suck down as much water as my stomach could hold. I hadn’t had to pee since just after waking, and even that had been a lackluster effort—not overly encouraging regarding my own state of dehydration. And the dark spots taunting me as they danced around the outer edges of my vision…I didn’t think those were a great sign, either.
By the time we reached the farm, our pace slow to exert as little effort as possible, the spots were no longer only on the outer edge, but creeping across my vision like ashes floating in the drafts of heat over a campfire. We sought refuge in the largest, shadiest building—a slightly rundown barn. Most of us worked together to unburden the horses while Jason, Carlos, and Jake split off to work on gaining access to the remote farm’s water supply. Carlos’s Ability was more than strong enough to power a well pump, as he’d started doing pretty much everywhere we stopped that had a well so we could stock up. Unfortunately, the deeper we plunged into the Great Basin Desert, the fewer and farther between those places seemed to be.
While I moved from horse to horse in the barn alongside Zoe, I imagined the sensation of water filling my mouth, cool and refreshing…trickling down my throat…dripping down my chin…over my head…
“I hate to have to say this…” Jason’s voice was low, even.
I looked up, focusing with some effort on the barn doorway. Jason, Carlos, and Jake stood, silhouetted in the opening by the late afternoon sun. I didn’t need to be able to see any of their shadowed faces for dread to sprout and flourish inside me.
“…but the water’s no good.”
I noticed the others straighten, turn to face him, exchange a confused look with whoever was nearest to them.
“What do you mean?” Sanchez asked. She took several steps toward the trio, away from the wagon team she was helping Grayson unharness.
“There are bodies in the house.” Jason paused. “And in the water tank.”
Grayson joined Sanchez. “We can disconnect the pump, and—”
“Won’t work,” Jake said from beside Jason. “Someone disabled it. It’s gonna take some time to fix, and there’s no guarantee…”
Sanchez placed her hands on her hips. “What about those pickups over by the house? At least one of them’s gotta be—”
Jake shook his head, his expression grim.
“Someone clearly wanted to cut off these people’s access to water,” Jason said. “There’s no water here.”
No water. It wasn’t possible. I shook my head as my knees gave out, and I plopped on my butt on the dirt floor. This couldn’t be happening. We couldn’t die here…not after everything. But we would.
We’re going to die here.
I rubbed my hand over my mouth.
We’re going to die here.
I felt whiskers tickle the side of my neck, closely followed by the warmth of a velvety muzzle. “No,” Wings said in my mind. “We will not die here. You will lead us to water. We trust you.”
Which made the whole situation so much worse, because I couldn’t do a damn thing.
I blinked.
But I could do a damn thing. I could slip into Ray’s mind…into the minds of any other creatures for miles around. I could hop from mind to mind until I found freshwater.
I leaned my cheek against the side of Wings’s long face. “I will try, Pretty Girl. I will try.”
~~~~~
I was Ray.
I flew away from the tainted two-legs den in circles. My quarry was not my usual prey, but it was no less important. My quarry was water. Without it, she-who-flies-with-me would cease to be. I had to find it. She-who-flies-with-me is part of me, now. She-who-flies-with-me cannot cease to be.
I suggested life-water, warm and thick and sustaining, but she-who-flies-with-me claimed consuming such would make her ill…make her more likely to cease to be. That could not happen.
I flew until the sun neared the storm clouds on the horizon. I flew until my wings ached. I flew until I had to hunt, or I, too, would cease to be.
I came “awake” with a start. I’d been sleeping less and less as the days passed, spending more and more time flying with Ray, or running with Wings or Cooper or Jack. It was so easy now, so relaxing. Usually.
“Did you find anything?” Jason asked. My head was on his lap, as it had been when I’d first drifted away, and his fingers were stroking the wispy flyaways at my temples. He looked down at me, hope gleaming in his eyes.
I glanced at the doorway. It was still light out, but dimmer than before. I looked up at Jason. “What time is it?”
“A little after seven.”
I stared into his sapphire eyes for a little bit longer, savoring the hope they still contained. Because as soon as I spoke, I knew it would disappear.
Taking a deep breath, I whispered, “Nothing close enough.” I closed my eyes and felt a tear escape, sliding across my temple only to be stopped by his fingertip. “I’m sorry.”
Jason leaned down and pressed his lips to my forehead. “Me too.”
11
ZOE
APRIL 20, 1AE
Great Basin Desert, Nevada
I’d come to appreciate the cool evenings in the high desert, a welcome contrast to the warm and wearisome days. And after a day as long, hot, and emotionally trying as this one had been, tonight was no different. The sun was finally setting behind the mountains, offering the group and our animal friends a reprieve from the threatening sun. I felt a slight sense of rejuvenation as the sun’s rays lessened, allowing people to scramble around in their desperation to find water without the added burden of heat.
Feeling useless and overwhelmed by everyone’s mounting emotions, I couldn’t stay in the barn stewing in everyone’s fear and anxiety any longer. So, leaving Sarah, Ben, and Sam to continue making room for everyone to roll out their sleeping bags in the barn, I slipped away to clear my mind, to harness my own emotions and rid myself of everyone else’s.
What are we going to do?
Stretching my legs, I walked to the pump house, stopping just outside the crumbling doorframe so as not to bother Jake as he, Carlos, and Mase cranked and banged on the piping and machinery it housed.
“Carlos, there’s a roll of duct tape in that bin over there.” Jake pointed to a storage tub resting by my feet. I bent down and picked it up, handing it to Carlos. “And there should be a tube of silicone, too.” On the outside, Jake was all calm confidence, but I
could feel his wavering ease beneath the surface.
“To seal up the cracks?” Carlos asked as he took the bin from me.
Jake nodded and turned back to Mase. “On the count of three, I’ll turn to the left, you twist to the right, but be careful. I couldn’t find any piping to replace this one.”
Mase nodded.
“One. Two. Three.” Both men wrenched and strained, Jake more than Mase, until finally the piping twisted apart. I felt Jake’s wave of relief as he examined the intact pipe. Then his relief fizzled. “Shit.” He ran a hand over his head. “I hope to God we have enough silicone to fix this.”
Unable to watch frustration harden Jake’s face, I wandered over to the workbench on the side of the barn, where Sanchez, Grayson, Harper, and Biggs were standing. Inching my way into the circle, I stared down at the three maps they had unfurled and laid out, overlapping one another.
“If we go south,” Sanchez said, “we’ll find more shelter—caves and such—but there’s absolutely no indication of there being any water.”
“We know there are three bodies of water here,” Harper said, pointing to an aerial map of the westernmost side of the desert.
“True,” Grayson said. “But we don’t know if they’re saltwater or—”
“We can’t steer clear of possible water because we’re assuming they’re salt ponds,” Harper said. “It’s a chance we might have to take…”
With thinning patience lacing each of their voices, I left the four of them to debate which route to take. There were no words of advice I could offer, and I decided hanging around would only worry me more and aggravate them further.
I passed Dani, who was lying quietly in Jason’s arms inside one of the stables. I could feel her mind in both an awakened and hibernating state. Jason glanced up at me as he held her, amplifying her Ability as she no doubt soared or roamed or slithered around with her animal friends in search of water.
With heavy limbs, I schlepped to the edge of the farm, found a lone juniper, and nestled myself against it. Had our day not been filled with death and turmoil, I might’ve thought the storm clouds looming over the mountains miles and miles away might be our saving grace, but instead, I felt as if we were being taunted, teased. Even the sunset that stretched across the expanse that separated us from our salvation seemed to have a greater meaning. It was truly remarkable, a melody of reds and yellows and oranges so vibrant and alive I couldn’t help but wonder if it was there as an accompaniment to our swan song.
“There you are,” Tavis said as he strode up behind me. “I was wondering where you’d run off to.”
I smiled, knowing it didn’t reach my eyes, and scooted over so he could plop down beside me. “Where have you been?”
Tavis nodded back to where the herd stood languidly. “Helping Becca and Camille give the animals what little water we could.”
“Water,” I said quietly. “It’s so close…” My eyes fixed on the dark clouds moving even further away from us as the breeze picked up.
“True. Wouldn’t it be nice if the breeze was moving in the opposite direction…”
I nodded.
With a sigh, I gazed out at the most barren stretch of land we’d stumbled across yet. There was less scrub brush, fewer trees and cacti. Instead, jagged, crumbling rocks and cavernous mountains seemed to stretch out as far as I could see.
A deep humming and what sounded like yodeling startled me. I turned to Tavis. His eyes were closed, his legs crossed in front of him, and his palms were facing up.
“What are you doing?”
He opened one eye and looked at me. “It’s a rain chant the Aborigines used back in the day when they thought the gods would hear their pleas.”
“A rain chant?” I listened more closely. “What are you saying?”
“I’m calling to the rain, asking it to come and replenish our bodies, to provide the sustenance we need to thrive and continue on our journey.”
I looked at him askance. “Really? It sounded more like gibberish to me.”
Despite Tavis’s efforts, he chuckled. “It was. I was just joking.”
I hit his shoulder. “That’s not funny.”
“Ouch,” he groaned and rubbed his arm, but he was grinning.
“Well, then stop joking around.” I nearly started laughing as his smile grew. “This is serious stuff.”
“Yeah? More serious than everyone dying of the flu? Of the world coming to an end? Of Crazies and Re-gens and—”
“I get it,” I said. “But yeah. A little bit. This could be it for us.”
Tavis shook his head. “We’ve all weathered worse. We’ll figure something out.”
Although I wasn’t sure how Tavis could be so certain, so upbeat, he was. For a man who had absolutely no idea of his family’s fate back home in Australia, he had an ever-optimistic air about him.
He climbed to his feet. “Come on, let’s go see if we can help the others.”
Standing, I dusted off my backside and straightened, affording one last glance behind me. It was probably my imagination, but I could’ve sworn the wind had shifted.
“Come on,” Tavis called, and I followed after him.
~~~~~
A thundering rumble startled me from sleep. I sat up and peered around at the rest of the group as they too began to stir in their sleeping bags.
“What was that, Babe,” Sarah said groggily.
Another, not-so-far-off rumble shook the ground beneath me.
Nobody said anything for a heartbeat…a breath.
“Is that thunder?” Dani said, scrambling as best she could with one hand to get out of her sleeping bag.
“Easy, Red,” Jason said as he climbed out after her.
I sat still in my sleeping bag, listening, too scared to hope amid everyone else’s mounting excitement that our prayers had been answered.
Sam ran by me, Cooper running after him toward the sliding barn door. With a grunt, Sam helped Jason and Jake push the door open.
Becca and I simply looked at one another. After another rumbling peal of thunder, a cacophony exploded in the room as everyone chattered and clambered to their feet, me included.
We crowded in the doorway, one by one, and stared into the early morning, waiting with bated breath.
“There’s no rain,” Becca said, and she stepped outside, staring up at the inky sky. Jason and Dani followed, then Tavis and Sam, Sarah and Biggs. Soon everyone was outside but Jake and me; he sidled up beside me, his arms crossed over his chest.
“Come on,” I breathed. “Maybe you need to do another rain chant, Tavis,” I called half-jokingly, but remembering the way the wind had shifted hours before, I couldn’t help but wonder if his ancestors had really been listening.
Tavis only shrugged. “Rain,” he jestingly commanded the clouds overhead.
There was another deep rolling of thunder and the whistle of the breeze zipping past my ears, but there was still no rain.
Plip. Plip-plip.
I heard the hollow sound of raindrops on the roof, and those standing out beneath the clouds held out their hands.
“Oh my God!” Dani cried. “Jason, it’s raining!”
Everyone stood there in silence—in disbelief—as they stared up at the sky.
After a flash of lightning, everyone seemed to stir from their stunned trances. Jason wrapped his arms around Dani, lifting her feet off the ground and laughing as he twirled her around. As the rain poured more steadily, Dani howled with laughter.
Hooting and laughing resounded, and I could see the outlines of my friends in the predawn light, streaming raindrops glittering all around them. Jack and Cooper frolicked in the quickly forming mud puddles, barking and yipping.
Jake stared down at me. “What are you waiting for?”
“Oh, I’m fine, I’d rather watch—” Before I could finish, Jake crouched down and heaved me over his shoulder, eliciting squeals of laughter and shouts of profanity I hadn’t meant to let escape my lips as he ste
pped out into the rain.
“Such language,” he admonished, and I only laughed. Despite my reservations, the rain felt good, rejuvenating. As was usual when touching Jake, I saw a collage of memories, most notably one of him tossing me over his shoulder down by a lake and carrying me into a large, plantation-style home while I squealed and wiggled in his arms.
“I think I’m going to be sick, Jake.”
“You always say that,” he said, and as he loosened his hold on me, I pushed against his shoulder and slid down his chest. The fabric of our shirts bunched between us, but I was too excited and relieved to care. Jake grinned down at me and tucked a strand of stringy, wet hair behind my ear.
I saw the memory of us in a creek, of me in his arms, skin against skin, and I took a step away from him. “One of these times I’m actually going to throw up on you,” I joked. Then I caught a glimpse of Tavis and Sam on the outskirts of our early morning celebration, staring up at the clouds. Tavis was dumbfounded, and I couldn’t help but laugh.
“I’ll be right back,” I told Jake, placing my hand on his arm as I stepped past him and weaved my way through my jubilant friends. “Tavis,” I called to him.
He turned to me and shrugged.
I widened my smile. “You did this,” I said loudly over the rain and pointed skyward.
He shook his head. “I made up that rain chant, it wasn’t real.” I could hear the confusion in his voice and felt it muddling his mind. “It wasn’t real,” he repeated. “It’s just coincidence…”
I knew Tavis didn’t fully believe that. “You sure about that?”
He sighed and shrugged.
“You did a rain chant?” Sam seemed confused.
“Not really, no.” Tavis held out his hand, pouring rainwater collecting in his palm.
“I felt the wind shift, Tavis. I saw the water move when you walked by it back at the retention pond…I know you did this.”
I could see Sam’s head whipping back and forth between us. “Try to make it stop,” he said. “Then we’ll know.”
Tavis’s eyes remained locked on mine.
“Let’s wait a little while,” I said. “Just in case you can’t make it start back up again…”
Out Of The Ashes (The Ending Series, #3) Page 13