by C A Gleason
“You need to find it before you go. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“All right so to the east...probably can’t go this way because of some of these mountains, but slightly north near them...here’s this valley. See?”
“Yep.”
“There looks to be a path. It starts south but leads up to it. So, by heading north you can eventually go east. I’d say it’s your best route.”
“Hmm.”
“Too bad you can’t go straight over the mountains. It’s gotta be a place people live, look at it. The view must be something else. Don’t you think?”
“I suppose.”
There was nothing spectacular about the topographical depictions on the map itself. Maybe her mom was trying to envision the beauty of mountains but when Royah looked over at her, the look on her face said it all.
Another place meant starting over. Anywhere else was somewhere better. Even if it wasn’t true, Royah understood now.
“It’s so far. What if I’m not able to obtain a scoutbike? Without one, how will I get there?”
“You’re smart and resourceful. You’ll find a way.” Mayah cleared her throat. “Whoever was responsible for writing A-D both on the necklace and the map probably intended on going there themselves.”
“Or head back to where they came from.”
“Right.”
Royah wanted to be motivated, but really, all of it was beginning to scare her. It meant she was actually going to leave. She would have to leave the town she grew up in.
She’d also leave behind some bad memories, and a few other people she’d grown close to over the years.
But the quest seemed worth the risk. Maybe a change really could make her life better.
“I know it will be dangerous. I know it will, but no more dangerous than it is here on a daily basis. If there’s a way to get there, then I know my Royah will discover it. You’re so smart. Like your dad.”
“And like you, Mom.”
Mayah grinned. “Find a way through the trouble spots. Get there no matter what it takes.” She swallowed thickly and got serious. “And if it turns out that there is better than here in ways determined by you...then I want you to stay.”
“Live there? Mom!”
“I mean it. We’re all human, all emergers but...we’re not doing well. I hope whatever A-D is...it will help. We need help. The only food is protein plants.”
“And the rare food from the war.”
“But how long can all of it last? Protein plants aren’t growing as much as they used to. If they stopped growing all of a sudden because of the weather or something or whatever is causing it to die off, we’d all die within months. Maybe sooner.”
“Really optimistic. They aren’t though, right? Plenty of those disgusting plants growing everywhere out there.”
“But will they still be in ten years? A hundred? I seriously doubt it. I know you don’t like it when I talk about it, but I think of you having children. More and more as I get older. How will my grandchildren survive without food?”
“It’s okay. You can think about it. I’m only giving you trouble. I’ll need to find a man first, you know?”
Mayah smiled. And swallowed emotion as she got teary-eyed.
“Are you trying to scare me about the plants, to motivate me or something, so I’ll go more willingly?”
“No. I’m being realistic. Honest. From what I’ve learned, climates change. We’ve been lucky to have a reliable food source for the last few hundred years, or thousands, however many years it’s actually been. But for how much longer?”
“Well, we aren’t doomed yet. Don’t forget what cannibals consider food.”
Mayah made a face. “I prefer not to.”
Both mother and daughter went wide-eyed. Neither of them thought of it before now.
Royah shook her head, about to plead.
“You’ll have your gun,” Mayah said in a reassuring tone. “You know how to use one.”
“Guns. I’ll have more than one.”
“You’re an excellent shot. I saw to it. And the guns of Home don’t run out of sizzles.”
“Yeah, neither do the ones belonging to the bad guys.”
Mayah snickered. “Someone must go. If for some reason the plants die out completely, we’ll all starve to death.”
“Unless we eat each other up like the first people on Earth.”
“Very funny. But eventually, there was a layered ecosystem on Earth, filled with many symbiotic species.”
“Somebody’s been reading. What else did Fred find down there?”
“For your information, I don’t learn everything from Fred. Hey, you found your sense of humor! Put it in your pocket.”
Royah mimed wrestling with something, desperately attempting to escape her clutches and shoved her empty hand into her back pocket.
“That’s my girl. We don’t have what they did on Earth.”
“Which was?”
“Everything they could ever want. Here, it’s practically just us and plants. But it puts us where they were, at a beginning, motivating us to strive forward and discover and invent things of importance. I think, no, I believe, I know, whatever is at A-D is about the history of this planet. And also the next step.”
“Next step?”
“Whatever’s out there.” Mayah produced a cloth bag from under the table and handed it over. “Here.”
Royah looked inside. The bag was filled with currency. “Whoa! Where did you get all this?”
“I’ve been saving it.”
“For what? To buy a town? How did you...How?”
“Townsfolk have appreciated my carpentry skills over the years.”
“No kidding.” Royah continued to stare down at the currency. “I can’t take it. What about you?”
“You have to. You need it and I’ll be fine. I didn’t give you everything. I have all I could ever need.”
Royah closed the bag quickly, as if would-be thieves could somehow spy it from outside. “People with a lot of currency usually don’t have it long, before someone decides to knock them over the head.”
Mayah laughed. “Well don’t go showing it off. Keep it a secret. Don’t take it out of your backpack. You might need it, you might not. Spend it if you need to, save it if you can.”
Royah raised her eyebrows. “You have a lot of faith in me.”
“Of course I do.”
“Do I have to go now?”
“You don’t have to go at all. But if you do go east, I think it should be in the morning.”
Royah set the bag of currency on the map, covering where AD was written, and pushed the ugly necklace over her head. “All right. I’ll do it. I’ll go.”
Her mom grinned. “That’s my girl. Think about what it could mean for people. There’s so many mysteries hidden in this world. I know there are. You have the chance to solve one, or, or lots!”
Her enthusiasm made Royah laugh. She was so excited.
“Keep your eyes open for anybody of character, who might be able to help you along the way. Remember not to judge someone by how they look. Or think you know about them. People can surprise you.”
Royah was so nervous. But excited at the same time. As her mom was. But Royah still forced a smile when her mom hugged her.
17. Windmother
Each time she crouched, those behind her stopped to wait. They didn’t understand everything she was doing as she searched. If she were completely honest with herself, neither did she. Her methods to support her strengths were somewhat of a mystery, so even if she wanted to explain, she would fail.
It didn’t matter to those who followed. They believed in her. Enough to continue to follow her lead. Whenever she moved, they did too, and also trying to hide their impatience. They were doing a poor job of it. She always sensed things others didn’t. But it helped the group bond while enduring the howling wind.
Standing on the wide open flat, the blustery weather felt personal. She k
new the wind supported her and it should. She was in the right and it would carry her to where she needed to be as it always did. She could no longer have children, so her scent did not appeal to those seeking out selfish, carnal wants.
The necklace hanging from her neck should have made noise by the strong gusts, but it did not. She knew where to place jewelry, showing Home who she was. What she wore was not placed, where it would shine. It would not give away her position for those seeking out something to steal.
Nor did she wear too much to overdo the display of who she was. She learned the ways when she was a young woman. After she was abducted by them. When they took her as much as they pleased. And she stopped begging for her life. Then a few recognized her skills. She became one of them. And eventually led them.
There were times when the men failed. When the strongest of them couldn’t be depended on because they went and got themselves killed. Somebody always needed to volunteer. Too many men died, and during a stormy period of chaos, when the strongest of them was far too young to lead, she stood for them. And they embraced her for it.
Those who followed her did so because she was the strongest; man or woman. Even though it was mostly men who followed her now. Almost all were stronger than her physically. Especially because of her older age, past the age when a woman could give birth. They still respected her and she them. She practically raised them after all.
Knowing her skills would have made them believe they were similar to her, which they were, but she was able to make them believe she was capable of things far beyond anyone else on Home. Other than experience from her age, she possessed a strong sense of smell and the sense branched into creative thought and knowing when to be silent.
Silence spoke so much. Crouching while facing east, the men behind her gave her space as she worked. Whispering among themselves far too loudly. She would have silenced them but one of the reasons they followed her was witnessing her intenseness as she tracked. Because nothing could distract her.
Not the wind, nor a fight, nor even a gunfight. Or so they understood. She continued to sense their impatience but also, and more importantly, their willingness to understand. She’d done nothing to cause them to distrust her. Not during their lifetimes.
When she’d approached and told them what happened and what she wished them to do and how to help her, they went along. Willingly. She’d been there for each of them too many times to count and expected nothing less. There were always grumblers in the group, being so far from her other followers, but grumpy or not, they were with her and it meant a lot.
Because she wasn’t alone, she didn’t dawdle. She normally allowed herself time, to add to the mystique of her natural abilities. But she wanted to get this handled as soon as possible. Get it over with. However, it turned out that it was entirely up to who they were tracking. The wind told her the way.
Scents appeared like visions, almost like memories, but they vanished when the power of the wind distorted them, so she needed to pay attention and remember. Her gray hair blew past her face. Rare movement on her as she remained crouched, her sharp features aiming east. The terrain was rugged but her footing was sure.
Unfortunately, she tracked someone familiar. Before it was always done for others. Now it was personal.
Vengeance? Is that what this is?
She hoped not. She would be wise not to allow those feelings—of anger and hurt and frustration and betrayal—to entangle her thoughts, possibly affecting her abilities. If she were tracking alone she could, and would, allow herself to handle things differently. For one thing, she wouldn’t have minded if she followed a false path or two.
Before discovering the true path, she had to ignore her group’s eagerness pressuring her to continue on. The most desired reason was to get warm, probably. She cared about them, but didn’t care how cold they were.
Her skills impressed those who knew her well, but her presence hardly intimidated anyone who never saw her before. Drew out their curiosity, but with a group of men in their prime supporting her, she was regarded differently.
Even when she was in her own prime, it was difficult to track someone by herself. She always needed the time to identify as she saw, allow all to sink into her mind without worrying about food or drink or rest or being attacked.
Her followers protected her as she worked and the farther those she was pursuing went, the more difficult it would be for her to find them. But she would find them. Unless she were killed. She wasn’t afraid of death. She’d been ready to die since she was a girl. But the men served a purpose, to protect her.
If she were to die though, it would seriously inconvenience those who followed her. At least she could count on those who were with her. They would continue what she began no matter what happened. Though they freely voiced concerns, their individual loyalty was why she’d chosen them.
And fortunately for her, the big man wasn’t aware he was being tracked. He was often stalked by others, so he was surely used to it, and a man of his size couldn’t hide his path from her even if he wanted to.
18. Yohiro
The bell above the door chimed whenever a patron entered the store. Except, this was the second time a man was followed by others with the same job close behind him.
They were not patrons. They were not interested in buying anything. They were harsh, bearded, thin and weathered; in physicality and temperament.
They were like any other outlier outside the quadrants. The difference was, they had titles and worked for the overseer. And they weren’t called outliers, not to their faces. These ones were called deputies.
For some reason, it gave them the right to barge into the store as if they owned the place and not his father. Twice in one day was something they’d never done before. Yohiro got the feeling that it was going to become a common occurrence.
“Business is closed,” Ito said.
Yohiro’s father was organizing supplies, placing them in the racks behind the counter where they would be more visible the next day.
Ito knew what would sell, and mixed in were what he hoped would sell better, or thought customers might be interested in: bandages, wound clamps, batteries, packaged protein plants, and knives.
Although guns were prohibited, Bloomfeld never specified anything about knives. Probably because anything with a sharp edge could be wielded as a weapon and good luck ridding Home of sharp edges. There were as many knives as there were guns in this world.
Ito either bought them from customers willing to sell, or he traded for them, and then he marked them up twice what he paid, so knives were particularly profitable.
The consensus among emergers, who lived in Easto, seemed to be that it was easier to buy from a store than risk scavenging east.
Ito enjoyed anticipating what would sell best, and Yohiro knew it was because he enjoyed the challenge. It felt good to him to please the public. Repeat customers proved to Ito his business was successful.
Organizing and presenting his wares the way he did, was also his way of letting his customers know he ran his store the way he wanted, and it didn’t hurt business to show off his supplies. For sale or trade.
Ito’s patience wore thin without a response from the leering men. “Business is over for the day.”
“No it isn’t,” a deputy said. “Not yet.”
Yohiro swept the floor on the opposite side of the room. Methodically, as he always did. It was one of his responsibilities, but his main duty, he’d decided long ago, was never to let his father down. He typically swept twice daily.
More, when blending in to help with the business. Then he would tell his father what the customers were talking about later, whatever they were hoping to find but hadn’t. Then Ito could make whatever that turned out to be more visible.
Plus spotless floors meant Yohiro wouldn’t get behind in his duties and he knew customers appreciated a clean store over a dusty one. Whether they were aware of it or not. There were all sorts of ways to make patrons feel
at ease, other than friendly help.
Yohiro had scrutinized the state of other stores. He wasn’t impressed. His father’s was run well and tended by both of them. The most impressive of them all. It was why they’d been in business so long.
At the same time Yohiro was sweeping, he was also paying strict attention to the deputies, even though his back was turned to them. They probably didn’t even notice him. Almost no one did. Some might view his invisibility as a weakness.
Yohiro did not. He enjoyed anonymity among the masses. If any deputies noticed him, they gave no hint. They hadn’t acknowledged him once since they barged in. Other than his silent footsteps, Yohiro’s lone movement was the broom.
“Your coworkers were already here to collect,” Ito said sternly. “This morning.”
Ito was putting his foot down. The tax didn’t apply to each deputy, but deputies as a whole. The tax was already paid.
“Others ain’t us, are they?” a deputy said. He was bigger than the rest. A straggly black beard covered his cheeks and throat. “And we don’t know anything about that. Do we?”
The rest mirrored his smug smirk.
Ito maintained sternness. “I gave payment already.”
“We aren’t here for payment.”
“What then?”
“To explain how things will be from now on.”
The other deputies sneered, cracking their straggly beards too, mouths open momentarily to show off their yellow teeth.
Ito leaned on the counter. “Tell me why you’re really here.”
The deputy whipped out a pistol. “You see this?”
Yohiro subtly turned toward the men, his eyes on the gun. Thankfully, it was still aimed at the ground.
After Ito nodded, he said, “We have these to provide protection.”
Ito eyed him. “I know what they’re for.”
“Let me finish.”
Ito’s firm expression got firmer. There hadn’t been any confrontations like this before. Not in this store. Ito had always been compliant because he understood how things were. A deputy, sometimes a few, entered the store on a certain day, Ito paid them a tax, and then they left.