“I don’t know,” Lena said. “How did you start when you were looking for us?”
“Like this. Walking where the crowd took me. The two of you basically found me. It wasn’t easy keeping up with you, but at least I’d seen what you looked like.”
“I still don’t see why you don’t have that bag of yours take us right to her.” Emilio ran the cool bottom of his glass of soda across his sweaty brow.
“I tried that two hours ago, remember? The pouch left us in the same spot we were. As best I understand it, this is where we’re supposed to be.”
“At a diner in Podunk, Oregon? Awesome.” Steven couldn’t fault Emilio’s frustration. Four hours of pounding the pavement with nothing to show for it left all of them on edge.
“You three ready to order?” The waitress’ nametag read “Liz” surrounded by a red oval. “We’re running a special on the patty melt combo plate today, if you’re so inclined.”
“A burger and fries will be fine.” Emilio smiled. “Hold the onions.”
“Same,” Lena said.
Steven offered a tired smile. “Make that three.”
“Boy, somebody took the wind out of all of your sails,” Liz observed. “Are you visiting from out of town?”
Steven took a sip of soda and answered. “Actually, yes. We arrived this morning. We’re supposed to meet a business associate here today.”
“In Sisters?” Liz asked. “Most people from around here head up to Portland for that kind of thing. What in the world brings you all the way down to our flyspeck of a town?” Liz eyed Lena and Emilio, and Steven could only imagine what thoughts were crossing her mind.
“I work for an employment agency based out of Chicago,” he said. “Emilio and Lena here are two of our summer interns. The boss wanted me to bring them along to meet our client and get a feel for our service approach.”
“Huh. So, who are you meeting?” Liz asked. “I know about everyone in town.”
Before Steven could formulate an answer, Lena jumped in. “We’re actually meeting them halfway. Our company is out of Portland and our client’s coming from farther south.”
“That makes sense. Anyway, worse places you could end up.” Liz turned back to Steven. “So, any jobs out there for someone with a master’s in art history? I tried one of those job.com websites a few months back, but you see what I’m doing.” Her gaze wandered to the blue sky just outside the window. “I guess an advanced art degree doesn’t take you very far these days.”
“Depends on if you’re looking in the right places.” Steven made a mental note to thank Lena for the distraction. “Tell you what. I’ll leave you a card. I’m kind of busy for the next few weeks, but you could give me a buzz next month and we’ll see if we can’t work something out.” He took a quick breath, silently hoping to still be alive to take the call. “Sound good?”
“That’d be great,” Liz said. “So, where are you staying?”
“We just got into town.” Steven was curious how long this game of twenty questions was going to last. “We haven’t exactly found a place to stay yet.”
“Well, good luck finding a hotel this weekend. Summer Festival is going on down at the park, and people are in from all over. Most of the bigger places have been booked up for weeks.”
At her words, and so subtly Steven almost believed he imagined it, the pouch pulsed.
“Y’know, Liz, I’ve changed my mind. I think I’ll have the special after all.” Steven shot Lena and Emilio a knowing look. “So, what’s all this about a festival?”
Liz turned in their order and then deposited herself at their table for a good quarter hour, waxing nostalgic about the annual Sisters Summer Festival. The telltale heat at Steven’s hip let him know they were finally on the right track. Half an hour later, they rose from the table, left a generous tip, and headed for the door.
“Well, you two, I think it’s clear where we go next.” Steven smiled with renewed vigor. “Looks like the whole town’s going to come to us.”
Steven, Lena, and Emilio found their way to the park and circulated among the hundreds of people milling from stall to stall. With only the one pouch among them, they initially stayed together, but after an hour, Lena convinced Steven a three-way search could increase their chances of finding this needle in the haystack. Despite their best efforts, though, their search remained fruitless for most of the afternoon.
Around three-thirty, Steven spotted Emilio meandering through the crowd with what appeared to be a reasonable candidate. Dressed in a green formal and sparkling tiara, the reigning Miss Oregon Teen USA seemed quite taken with the young wrestler.
Despite his disappointment at the pouch’s continued silence, Steven couldn’t help but smile watching Emilio hang on the beautiful girl’s every word. After a few minutes of patter about upcoming pageants, however, Steven was ready to move on. Surveying the crowd, he caught Lena’s gaze as she rounded a nearby hot dog stand, and answered her silent question with a subtle shake of his head. Empty-handed but not defeated, she made her way over and draped her arm around Emilio’s shoulders. The boy looked as if he had been awakened from a very pleasant dream.
“Any luck?” Lena asked with only the slightest bristle in her tone.
“Uhh… no, not really.” Emilio motioned to the girl in green. “This is Amanda.”
The young blonde offered her hand, her perky smile undaunted by Lena’s intimidating stare. “Hi. You must be Lena. Emilio’s been telling me all about you.”
“That would be me.” Lena took the girl’s hand and gave it a brisk shake. “Nice to know I was on his mind.”
Amanda’s gaze danced back and forth from Emilio to Lena. “Well, it was great meeting all of you,” she said, stepping away, “but I’ve got to get back. I’m doing a ribbon cutting at four and then I’ve got a dinner reception at six.”
“Well.” Lena made no attempt to hide the scorn in her eyes. “Good luck with all that.”
With a bemused furrow of her brow, the lovely young girl waved goodbye and wandered down the crowded path. Emilio raised a hand to answer but drooped under Lena’s withering stare until she let him off the hook with a mischievous half-smile.
“Down, boy,” she said. “You’re not in trouble, but you were working on it.”
“But I was just looking for—”
“It’s all good, papi,” Lena said. “She’s not the one, though, and we’ve got to keep searching.” Lena shot a sidelong glance at Steven and her smirk morphed into a mischievous grin. “Let’s just let Steven’s pouch do the thinking from here on out.”
By five-thirty, the festival crowd began to dissipate. Most of the stalls and shops were closing down, and a not so distant cousin of outright panic nipped at Steven’s mind.
What if their failure to find the Queen meant she’d already been found?
Though he’d been on the lookout for any sign of the Black since their arrival in Oregon, the icon had remained dark. Not even the slightest twinge of pain had interrupted the day. Still, Steven couldn’t get over the distinct feeling they were being observed. An ominous whisper at the edge of his consciousness prompted Steven to remain on guard, though after such a nothing of a day, his constant warnings to Lena and Emilio to stay cloaked seemed almost silly.
Almost.
“I guess today’s a bust.” Emilio plopped down at a picnic table and grazed on some curly fries. Steven and Lena joined him. Fatigue showed on all of their faces.
“I’m wiped out,” Lena said, “and we’ve got nothing. Nothing to show after a whole day of this. What are we supposed to do now?” Her despondent tone mirrored Steven’s mood.
“Honestly? I have no idea. I don’t know what I was expecting today, but I sure thought we’d come out the other end with at least a clue of what to do next. You’re both right, though. The day is shot. Any suggestions?”
Emilio inhaled to speak, the words catching in his throat at the pouch’s sudden hum.
Steven surveyed the area
. This section of the festival was essentially vacated. The food vendors had closed up shop more than half an hour before, the huge midday crowd had dwindled as the afternoon played itself out, and the few people remaining appeared to be saying their farewells or heading for their cars. The only person in their immediate vicinity was an older gentleman, probably in his mid-seventies, with enough insulation around his midsection to keep him warm through the long Oregon winters.
Dressed in a green and white polo, tan pants, and a black baseball cap, the old man squinted through thick spectacles. Moving from table to table, he deliberately cleared them one by one before wiping them down. A slight limp affected his every step, but the man carried himself proudly. His meandering path eventually led to their table, the low hum from Steven’s right hip growing louder with his every step.
Steven rose to meet the fastidious old man, motioning for Lena and Emilio to stay put. Each step toward the groundskeeper brought another pulse from the pouch, the volume crescendoing from a hum into a low constant moan. As he came close enough to read the man’s laminated identification card, a familiar searing heat flashed at his hip. A wash of welcome relief passed through his body.
Bingo.
The old stranger in his pressed clothes and Coke-bottle glasses gave off a rare warmth. The badge at his collar showed a grainy photo and the name Woody, a pin on his shirt denoted this was his fourteenth year with the local park service, and the man’s well-worn cap identified him as a veteran of the Korean War. Steven’s mind tripped through the myriad of stories his own grandfather had told for as long as he could remember and wondered if Woody and he had ever crossed paths.
“Pardon me, sir?” Steven said.
“Yes?” Woody peered at Steven through his thick trifocal lenses. “Can I help you?”
“Actually, I was wondering if we might help you. My friends and I were getting ready to leave and noticed you had quite a few tables to go. Mind if we lend a hand?”
“Y’know,” the old man chuckled, “most days I’d turn you down flat. The fresh air and exercise is good for these old legs. I’m pretty worn out today, though.” He smiled the smile of a man with no regrets. “Have at it.”
Steven introduced Lena and Emilio and then let Woody rest his feet while the three of them made short work of the remaining garbage. In no time at all they were done and joined Woody around the rectangular table. The old man grinned and gave them a jaunty salute.
“I sure appreciate you kids helping me out. My feet were already on fire. Without your help, I would’ve been out here another hour at least.”
“Our pleasure.” Lena smiled, the weariness of the long day banished from her features.
“No problem.” Emilio stared down at his wristwatch, the fingers of his other hand drumming on the tabletop.
“Thanks to you three,” Woody said, “I may get to eat dinner with my granddaughter. If she’s up for it, that is. She doesn’t have much of an appetite these days.”
“Why?” Lena asked. “Is she okay?”
Woody’s grin faded into a resigned grimace. “Actually, no.” He cleared his throat, though the emotion in his voice did nothing but escalate. “She hasn’t been okay for a long time.”
“Sir,” Steven asked, “sorry if I’m intruding, but what’s wrong with her?”
Woody paused, studying Steven’s face for a moment. “Leukemia,” he said. “The bad kind. Well over a year now. It’s down in her bone marrow and the chemo’s not cutting it anymore. Last appointment, her oncologist gave her maybe a couple of months.” Woody choked up. “Hell, I always figured they’d have to get hospice to come take care of this fat old man, not Audrey. She was such a beautiful girl, and that damn cancer has eaten her alive.”
“The doctors can’t do anything for her?” Emilio asked.
“They've done all they can. She went into remission for a while, but a few months ago, the cancer came back even worse than before. The last round of chemo made her so sick and the doctors said it wasn’t working anyway, so Audrey asked if she could go home. For the last few days, she’s done nothing but lie in her bed and wait to die. Have you ever had to watch someone you love wither away?”
Far from the strange sensation that hit him when the opposition was near, the pang in Steven’s chest was one with which he was intimately familiar. He struggled with what to say to the grieving old man when Lena, tears coursing down her face, wrapped her arms around the old man’s neck and gave him a peck on the cheek.
“Thank you, child.” He smiled at Lena with grateful eyes. “Sorry I’m so broken up today. It’s been a hard few weeks.”
“No problem.” Lena said. “I wish your granddaughter all the best.”
“Thank you.” Woody checked his watch. “Well, it’s getting late.” He rose and turned to go. “Need to go see if someone can give me a lift over to my daughter’s house. Thank you all again for your help and for listening to an old man’s ramblings.”
Emilio put his arm around Lena’s waist. “Our pleasure, sir.”
Woody shook his head and let out a rueful laugh. “Enjoy life while you're young, kids. Once they take your license, it’s over.” With that, he shuffled back toward the road, stopping briefly to retrieve his cane from the next table. As he rounded the corner of the path and out of sight, the pouch at Steven’s side fell silent.
“The pouch has spoken.” Steven turned to Emilio. “Catch up to him and don’t let him out of your sight.”
“I’m on it.” Emilio headed toward the parking lot where Rocinante lay in wait.
"Maybe we can pull this day out of the fire after all." Lena turned to follow Emilio.
“Hey, Lena?”
Lena glanced back across her shoulder. “Yeah?”
“That was beautiful,” Steven said. “You really connected with him. With Woody.”
Lena shrugged, an innocent smile breaking across her face. “He needed someone to care about him. I’m someone. Simple as that.”
“Simple as that.” Steven shook his head. “Good to hear it. Now, go on. If you hurry, you can catch Emilio before he takes off.”
Lena raced up the dirt path after her boyfriend, leaving Steven alone for the first time in recent memory. His mind reeled from the events of the previous two days, like a boxer between rounds waiting for the next ring of the bell to signal the pummeling about to start anew. For the moment, however, their path seemed clear.
He hadn’t mentioned it to Lena and Emilio, but the pouch had flashed white hot when Woody mentioned his granddaughter’s name. Though he couldn’t imagine how a girl on her deathbed could possibly have a role in Grey’s great Game, his gut told him she was the one.
What was it the old man said? What was her name?
19
Audrey
A grand window graced the front of the two-story house, the fading blue of the Oregon evening sky reflected in its burnished glass. Proud but not pretentious, the magnificently constructed home had easily seen four generations pass its massive front door. Lena and Emilio stood silent beside him, studying the enormous conglomeration of grey stone and burgundy brick. Set back in the woods at the end of a quarter-mile cobblestone driveway, the grand edifice was surrounded by dozens of great oaks and poplars, some of which must have predated even the earliest pioneers. The highest branches of these silent sentinels swayed to and fro in the early evening breeze as if beckoning the weary travelers to come closer.
Amaryllis fluttered and scratched at his breastbone.
Or waving us off in warning.
An overpowering sadness emanated from every aspect of the house’s architecture and landscaping, as if the venerable old home lamented a lost love.
Other than a hint of light coming from one of the many second-story windows, the entire house was dark. The lawn sat overgrown and many of the potted plants on the porch desperately needed water. Branches cluttered the roof while leaves and twigs clogged the overflowing gutters. Closer inspection revealed three stones missing from
the chimney and a broken window crudely repaired with a piece of cardboard. The only audible sound other than the wind whistling through the surrounding trees was the pulsating drone of the pouch that crescendoed as they approached the covered front porch.
“This is the place?” Steven whispered, despite the fact the three of them stood alone in the home’s enormous front yard.
Emilio nodded. “Lena and I saw Woody’s friend drop him off at the top of the drive.”
Steven stretched out his arm, holding the pouch before him, and was answered with a high-pitched whine and a flash of heat. “Our Queen is here.” He clutched his side as an all too familiar sensation gathered in the pit of his stomach. “And she’s not alone.”
He retrieved the pawn icon from his front shirt pocket and found its subtle glow had returned.
“I feel it too,” Emilio said, not that he needed to. The pain blossoming in Steven’s side was mirrored on Emilio’s face. Even Lena’s features exhibited some signs of strain.
“What do we do now?” She bit her lip, but maintained her composure.
“Let me try something.” Steven held the pawn icon before him and willed it to transform into the shield and his normal clothing into the garb of the Pawn. As expected, the pain in his side evaporated. The gnawing sensation at the pit of his stomach, however, remained, and with it the assurance the Black were close.
“The pain is the Game’s way of telling us to suit up and get ready. Give it a shot.”
Lena focused for a moment and the mace appeared in her hand, its silver sheen growing with each passing second. Emilio closed his eyes, took a deep breath and held out his arms, muttering hushed words under his breath. The lance appeared in one hand, the shield on the opposite arm, followed by helm and breastplate. In the blink of an eye, the high school senior was gone, replaced by the armored form of the Knight.
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