12

THERE BEGAN THE PRESENT. Thomas’ eyes blinked rapidly. He thought he had been dreaming. Then he remembered everything all in a rush.

Must’ve been knocked unconscious, he thought. He saw the Quinella Trace lands he had known all his life.

We’re here!

The lands teemed with life, shadowy and frisky. There was dusk of dawn wrapped around odors of decay. Overripe scents made his mouth fill with saliva. He managed to swallow, keeping his stomach down.

Am I by myself inside? With mental fingers and inward eyes he searched out every nook and cranny of his mind. He felt no other presence. But Justice still might be there. She knew how to get inside his head without him knowing.

Girl, if you’re there, you’d better move out! He turned his mind icy cold and laughed to himself.

I’m alone. No more First Unit. No more being scared to death in a place who knows how many thousands of years from now. Oh, man!

His hands commenced tingling.

Good, relax the fingers. Easier said than done. I can’t move a muscle. Wait a little while. Take it easy.

He had been deaf to sound; now it overwhelmed him as indistinct noise. It took time for him to figure out that he had just heard his sister bursting into tears. She started crying like she intended going on forever; then stopped.

One of them cried, usually, on a return. The crying somehow released tension for all of them. But this was the first time Justice had cried.

I cried once, he remembered. Now I feel like laughing. Yeah; Home free! No more rope around my neck. I’m really, really home.

Dorian Jefferson faced away from the Quinella River toward the field of long grasses, and weeds through which they passed to and from the Quinella lands. Beyond the field the Quinella Road twisted its way up the steep hill. He grew conscious of breathing deeply, squinting against bright sunlight. His eyes burned and watered, and he wished he could wipe them dry. He realized their hands were still joined, and that he had dreamed the sunlight. He closed his eyes to rest them and tried to get a picture of what had happened and how long ago. Then he sucked in his breath, remembering the great light and the ball of dark receding.

It’s over! But does it mean—?

He didn’t finish the thought. Impressions bombarded him; sights and sounds were so wonderful, they made him tremble. Incredibly, he was staring at a rabbit, having opened his eyes again just as it hopped from brown weeds some thirty yards away. He could see it clearly through the wild whips of branches growing out of the buckeye trunk. He was sure the rabbit didn’t see him. They were very still under the tree. The rabbit sniffed and made a whistling sound, which astounded Dorian. He watched it until it disappeared in the weeds. If he could see the rabbit, then it was day. What he saw was vague light, the light that gathers ghostly before the dawn.

Then he thought of all the animals there were on earth. All the life! Future was so empty.

He could not feel his hands, but knew the weight of them locked tightly with Thomas’ hand on one side of him and Levi’s on the other.

He tried to speak, but his mouth wouldn’t work. He kept trying; knew his mom would be around close by.

She doesn’t even know we’re back. How could she, unless she was looking into our eyes?

Mom? Mom! That’s stupid, she can’t hear you.

Dorian thought to send a healing aura out through his hands to the other three. He willed it to them the way he always did from someplace within that felt as though it existed behind his eyes. He willed the healant down his neck and shoulders and through his arms and hands. He waited for the warmth of giving that always came into his hands, but he felt nothing.

Levi thought someone was holding their hands in front of his face. It came to him that the hands were green. They weren’t hands at all. What he saw were clusters of buckeye leaves spread out like fingers. They were lovely.

He stared, transfixed, seeing into his own mind. He became aware of things most astonishing.

With her back against the tree, Justice felt the weight of gravity. As she came to, she had the sensation of being pulled down and she could not move against the force. Her hands were gripped by Thomas’ hand and Levi’s. Soon she was able to think clearly. She started crying because she felt sad being home; then she felt glad, so she stopped crying. Tears blinded her. Once they dried, she saw Mrs. Jefferson just beyond the branches. Her back was to the tree. She was deep in thought, staring at the river, which looked black in the pale light. Warily Mrs. Jefferson glanced around at nearby beds of garter snakes. Here was where the snakes nested, lived and died. Heat had caused her dress to stick hotly to her, and she pulled at it and wiped the sweat from her neck.

Justice wondered why the Sensitive had not become aware of their presence. She watched as Mrs. Jefferson rubbed her knees. That was why—the rheumatism in her legs had filled her mind with pain. Softly, softly the Sensitive began singing in a throaty voice that got stronger as it went along:

“A-workin’ in the field

A-wearin’ my bandanna

Ol’ sun were a woman

An’ they call her Hannah

Oh, won’t you go down, go down Hannah, go down.”

Justice listened, startled by the loving, long-ago race sound of it. The sun, a woman. Miacis had called the sun Star. Hannah was such a better name. When you got too tired in the fields, you asked Hannah and she would set herself down.

A husky voice broke in: “Mom. Mom, I’m home.” Dorian had found his voice.

Mrs. Jefferson leaped up and spun around. Justice had never thought a woman her age could move so fast.

She’s only a couple of years older than Mom, I bet. She just seems old. Being a Sensitive must make you old.

The Sensitive was beneath the branches. She looked into Justice’s eyes.

“Child!” she exclaimed, touching her cheeks with gentle, knowing hands. Quickly she crawled around the tree and came back with Dorian, dragging him slung under her long arm like a sack of flour. She had unlocked his hands, and he was stretching his fingers to get the circulation working. She pried Justice’s hands from Levi’s and Thomas’. “Oh, my! You don’t know how good it is! Yes! I never thought the day would come. I fixed my mind y’all might be gone another week. Happy birthday, Justice-chile. Yes, happy birthday to you!”

“Is it my birthday?” Justice whispered.

“Already past the time,” the Sensitive said. “You still a year older, though, even if you missed the birthday.”

“I’m twelve!” said Justice.

“But your mother ...” Mrs. Jefferson stopped. Something.

The brothers were on opposite sides of the tree. Mrs. Jefferson could see only their profiles. They hadn’t moved. There was something in their stillness.

She let Dorian gently down in the tight space between Justice and Levi. She crawled around until she could see Levi’s face. “How you doin’, Number Two?” she said, smiling at him, looking into his eyes. She took his hands and rubbed them vigorously.

“Ow!” he said weakly, with a bit of humor at her enthusiasm. He did not smile exactly, but his face was calm. The depths of his eyes showed no sickness.

“I’m well, I think,” he mumbled, his voice husky from the long silence. “I’m very well.”

“Did they do it over there?” she asked. “Did they make you well?”

“Yes,” he said. A vivid image of Sona, imagining he breathed the antiseptic, tranquilized air.

“Must be some place, over there,” she said, but asked no questions. She would have the story from Dorian soon enough.

She moved over to Thomas. He had managed to turn his head so that he confronted her first. That was always his first concern, to be in control. He stared her down. Coldness. She would welcome him in any case, as she had the others.

“How you doin’, Number One?” Clasping his hands in the warmth of hers, she felt his revulsion in a slight tremor in his fingers. She entered his mind smoothly, still smiling and without his knowing, as she could do even to one such as Justice. For she was the Sensitive, the bridge over deep waters. She was the tool and the divining instrument.

Thomas’ mind was an elaborate weave of emotions and manners of acting that were hard to follow. She found his knotted obsession that he must be better than Justice. All of his many dislikes were exaggerated. Now that he was home, he had no fear.

She saw nothing about him that she had not already known. She kept her gaze steady on him, forcing him to respond to her greeting.

Stupid spirit woman! he thought. “I … I’m fu-fu-ine,” he stammered, furious that only in the wretched future could he talk as he wished. “I’m fine, I’m fine!” he told himself, speaking beautifully in his head.

“Oh, that’s good, Number One,” Mrs. Jefferson said. “Y’all sure had a time, too.”

She turned back to her son, crawled over to him. “Get y’all working again. Goodness! You as stiff as a board.” She had Dorian by the shoulders. “Feel them muscles—just like rocks.” Expertly she kneaded the trapezius muscles and deltoid muscles of the neck and shoulders. Oh, she knew muscles, all right. Soon Dorian felt pins sticking him all over.

“Oh, man!” he moaned.

“But you’ll live,” she said, laughing.

Justice touched her arm. “Mrs. Jefferson. Mrs. Jefferson. It’s … it’s gone,” she said, sounding as tired and apprehensive as she felt.

“Shhh, now,” Mrs. Jefferson said, “don’t you worry. We gone get y’all moving and we can talk tomorrow, or even next week. It’s for sure you home now, and we got plenty of time.”

All of them had their voices and could move their necks and arms and, clumsily, their legs, by the time Mrs. Jefferson had taken the last one of them in hand. Levi was standing, looking quite fit.

“It was the twilight of the breaking day when you come back,” said the Sensitive. “See the sun-up coming!” Just then the sun winked over the horizon, lighting the trees, the field in a fresh yellow glow.

They drank in the clean brightness of the air. They could have cried, but Mrs. Jefferson wouldn’t give them a sentimental moment.

“Come on, Dor,” she said to her son. “Shoot, be gettin’ on back before your daddy catch the house all empty.” She was already walking away. She was beside herself with happiness to have the boy back, to have the three others back. But best to keep herself under control. No sense having a child break down by her example.

She stopped, turned back. Dorian, close behind her, almost ran into her; he stopped himself from bumping her by stepping quickly backward.

“Justice,” she said. The child was there with her brother Levi, with Thomas off a way by himself. Wasn’t that just like the Number One? “You all take your time,” she said, with not a trace of Southern accent.

“What day is it?” Justice asked.

“Saturday,” the Sensitive said. “You have been gone since Monday evening.”

“Saturday,” Justice said. Absently she touched her face. She looked down at her legs, her arms. She looked like her real self, no thinness anywhere.

“Justice,” the Sensitive said, staring at the three of them, “Your father got into the habit of coming down here looking. I suggested to his mind that he not walk here, for fear he would be seen. People know he is a smart man. If they saw him by the river, they might think there was something to see here. So he never came in here, but he did sit there in his car a minute before going on. Maybe it was a comfort for him. You might see him this morning, although it is Saturday.”

She moved away quickly with her son.

The three Douglasses went back to the river, careful of the snakes. There were lots and lots of snakes. The river was a sick river, black with algae and leeches.

Levi shivered, remembering that once leeches had got him.

No, it was Thomas who had the leeches all over him, he thought. But, using his power, he made me feel the pain.

Thomas looked at the river with no feeling for it whatsoever. It just smelled foul and he turned his back on it.

Justice wished the river were clean, like the water pool they’d given to Dustland.

Why didn’t we ever set our minds to cleaning up this place? she wondered. With all the power we had, we could have done it easily. We didn’t think of it because we take everything for granted—what’s one small stream when we have so much?

She sighed. “Shall we go?” she asked her brothers.

“St-st-stay a li-littttle l-l-longer,” Thomas said.

“Yeah,” Levi said.

Justice didn’t want to go home quite yet either. They needed time to bring themselves completely back. Justice felt literally torn apart from her brothers and knew they must be feeling the same about her and each other. Each felt alone, separate, in a way they never had. She saw Thomas glance at Levi, then away uneasily.

Like we no longer know one another, Justice thought, gazing at Levi. How much older he seemed, but in a good way. His skin was clear and healthy-looking.

“You look just great,” she told him.

“I feel great,” he said. “I think I’ll go get a check-up just to be sure.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” she told him.

“Wwwant muh-muh-eee to-to sc-scan yyyou?” Thomas said.

“No, thanks,” Levi said. He didn’t want Thomas to invade him that way ever again. Then suddenly he stiffened, staring at Thomas. “You mean, you can still—” He could not finish.

“Oh, y-eah, I-I ffforrrrgot,” Thomas said. “W-w-wow!” He blanched under Justice’s careful gaze. “S-s-sorry.”

They heard a car. There were not many cars on the Quinella Road early on a Saturday morning. This one did not slow down. With the overhanging trees, they could not see the car. They listened until it was beyond their hearing. A half-hour later another car came. This one slowed. They looked up. And then Thomas was racing to the field. Justice and Levi heard the car stop and Thomas yelling, “Dad! Here!” She and Levi hurried out. She was vaguely aware that Thomas had spoken two words without stuttering—a result of his excitement on seeing their dad, she supposed.

She gave a last glance to the sluggish Quinella River, then followed Levi through the field. She felt awkward, not knowing what to say to her father.

Will he let me just shake his hand?

Her dad was halfway out of the car, grabbing Levi by the head and shoulders in greeting. He must have greeted Thomas the same way.

He was staring at her. She touched her face, just to be sure, and stopped a few paces away from him.

“Hi, Dad,” she said, her hands in the pockets of her jeans.

“Ticey!” He saw at once that she was older, taller. He reached out, pressed his hand on her curly hair. Precious Ticey! “I’m glad you’re back,” he said. Was it possible she had grown more than two inches in just five days? No, but over the whole summer it could happen. One would notice only if she were away for a time and returned. One would see the difference as he saw it now. Gently he kissed the top of her head as, shyly, she held her face away from him. He patted her shoulder. “Let’s go home,” he said. Looked all around. “I assume the boy and his mother have already gone.” Caution in his voice.

“Yes,” Levi said.

“Okay, pile in.” They did, with Justice in front in the middle and Levi by the window. Thomas was in the back, surrounded by Mr. Douglass’ stone-cutting tools.

Her head lolled on her dad’s shoulder. It was wonderful being in the car, being close to her dad. She didn’t say a word. None of them did.

Mr. Douglass almost said, “The town hasn’t changed a bit since you’ve been gone.” It went through his mind to say it seriously, as if they’d been gone a year.

I promised June they’d come back. I knew they would, he thought. No, you didn’t know any such thing. Yes, you did. You knew their fighting spirit. Whatever it is, this power, you knew it would get them home—is that it? What has happened to them?

Something had affected them deeply. No chatter from them as there had been other times when they returned. Wisely he surmised that he and his wife would not know what it was for a while, if ever.

What does it matter? They’re home!

They were at the top of the Quinella Road, where once, one rainy night, Justice had made a huge image of her own head and shoulders at least forty feet high. And with the moon caught in the tangles of her hair. Thomas had made the illusion of a McDonald’s with the golden arches and an aroma of Big Macs.

What a night that was, she thought. It had been the time Mal had first come out of the future to warn them.

No more Mal. We gave up a lot to be free of it.

The next thing she knew, they were passing under the great cottonwood tree at the entrance of their property.

Cottonwoman! “I thought the leaves would’ve changed!” she said, surprised that the leaves were still green.

“Me, too,” said Levi.

Their dad said, “Well, it’s still only August 1990.”

“Wh-wh-wh—” Thomas couldn’t get the word out.

The next minute they were all laughing.

“Dad, you nearly scared me to death!” Justice said, finally stopping.

“Oh, man, I believed it, too,” Levi said.

“I’m glad it’s not 1990,” she said. “I’ve got a lot to do before then.”

“What have you got to do?” Mr. Douglass asked, talking smoothly now with the kids.

“I don’t know, but I know it’s a lot,” she said.

He laughed and eased the car up to the front of the house.

“Yey! Yey!” Justice said softly.

He turned off the motor and Mrs. Douglass came quickly out of the house to meet them.