21
Kevin was momentarily frozen by the fact that he had just been thinking about the chain of events that had started with meeting this woman. The reasons why he stood here in Overpass came down to that dark hour, and the realization that his secrets were secret no longer. She showed him the same fear as that night.
“Carla.”
“Do you remember what I told you?”
“That I would survive if I fled when I had to.”
Only then did she step inside. “That time is now upon us both.”
Kevin shut and locked the door. He started to confess how he’d thought that hour had already come, when he and his mother had fled. But he merely asked, “Where is your fiancé?”
“Pablo is with the others.”
“It’s better if I show you.” She watched him limp across the shop and grip the cane leaning by the stairwell. “How have you injured yourself?”
“Long story.” Kevin took his time climbing the steps, then entered the kitchen and turned on their cooker. When she followed him upstairs, he asked, “When did you last eat?”
“I don’t remember.” She remained standing uncertainly in the kitchen doorway. “If you’re coming, we must hurry.”
“First we’ll have dinner and you’ll explain why you’re here.” In truth Kevin assumed he already knew. And though there was little he could probably do to help her, he knew he had to try. He opened the icebox and pulled out everything that was inside. “Now tell me what’s going on.”
Carla and Pablo had met in Richmond. Her father was responsible for the city’s power supply. Pablo was from a poor Baltimore family, their city-state firmly within the capital’s grip. He had escaped a bad home life through joining the National Guard. Carla was a teacher assigned to the guardsmen’s night school. They had fallen in love and confessed their closely guarded secrets, all at the same time.
Kevin did not need to ask what her secret was. “What was Pablo hiding?”
For the moment, Carla ignored his question. “About six months ago, the federal government started hunting specials. My father heard the rumors soon after the roundups began. His work often took him to Washington, and he saw no benefit in hiding politics from his family. So we learned . . .”
Kevin poured the last of their olive oil into a heated iron skillet, then lay out his four remaining steaks. Two to eat, two more for the road. “Tell me.”
Carla had a schoolteacher’s ability to adapt the most complex issues into small and understandable portions. She related how the legends were based on fact. In the years leading up to the Great Crash, the federal government had secretly funded genetic research on human embryos. Their aim was to create a new breed of mentally gifted individuals and control their powers.
She surprised him then by asking, “Are you a believing man, Kevin?”
“Hard to say.” He took his time chopping vegetables he would grill once the steaks were done. “My mother is. She became involved in the underground movement because of its ties to the early church. For myself . . .”
He turned to face her. Kevin liked how she waited, her hands settled calmly upon the table. Giving him time to inspect himself. “I am bred for action. I’m a doer, not a thinker. For better or worse. I’m happy to let others do the thinking for me. And the believing.”
She had a stillness about her that reminded Kevin of his mother. “I hope your wife fills that void in your life.”
“I have neither spouse nor fiancée.”
“She will soon appear,” Carla said.
Her calm certainty rocked him. “Do you know when?”
“First you must survive the coming trial.” Her smile was tense but genuine. “As must we all.”
He turned back to the stove. “You were saying about the research . . .”
“Some within the church claim the government brought this upon us. That the Great Crash was caused by defiling the divine will.”
He set the steaks on a plate to cool and swept the vegetables into the skillet. “I have no place in such discussions.”
“I understand.”
Kevin liked that as well, how she felt no need to condemn him for what he was not. “So this research into genetics . . .”
“There is no question that some of the test subjects grew to adulthood. And managed to escape those early containment areas.” She spoke with almost a musical cadence. Kevin was fairly certain she was an excellent teacher. “They held to secret identities, which was all too easy in the chaos of those first decades. In time, they became little more than another legend from before the Crash.”
Kevin ladled portions onto two plates, set one before Carla, seated himself, and waited while she prayed over their food. As he listened to her soft voice, he reflected on how much like his mother she was.
When she lifted her head, Kevin said, “But what does all this have to do with the here and now?”
She was so famished her hands shook as she cut the meat. She paused for three good bites, complimented his cooking, ate another forkful, then replied, “About six years ago my father started hearing rumors that the federal government had been working on new ways to identify specials. To what end, he had no idea. But then last year, more refugees started to flow in from the north. Families seeking safety from . . .”
“The cull.” Kevin recalled hearing his mother use the word. Abigail had no logical explanation for what was happening. She had suspected it came down to a dwindling food supply. But even then, Kevin had his doubts. Food had always been an issue—too many people, barely enough supplies. Having food as a reason for the upsurge in refugees did not explain why it had happened now.
Carla went on, “The northern enclaves have always been more closely allied to Washington. They were ordered to make a careful sweep of their populace, hunt down all the specials they could identify, and ship them to the capital.” She accepted a slice of bread and held it out for him to ladle on honey. “The most vulnerable had no idea why they were being rounded up. Why their families were being torn apart. All they knew was they had to flee.”
“And now they’ve started hunting specials in Charlotte, and your fiancé got caught up in a sweep.” Kevin rose to his feet and discovered his leg had stiffened. He stood in place for a moment, pushing down with his heel, willing the pain to release its hold.
She watched him with grave eyes. “Can you walk?”
“Some. I hope to find us mounts. The question is, what do you expect me to do?”
Carla smiled. “You are to play a crucial role in their escape.”
“So there’s more than Pablo we’re to meet?”
“Yes. About twenty in all.”
Which made their successful escape even less likely. “Who are the others?”
“You’ll see.”
“I can’t enter Charlotte.”
“You don’t need to.”
“But you just said they were being held by the militia.”
“I could spend all night talking and you still wouldn’t understand,” Carla replied. “Pablo will manage their escape. Once that’s happened, your help becomes crucial. Now can we please go?”
Kevin had a hundred reasons to refuse. But none of them made any difference. He gestured to the remaining food. “Make us sandwiches for the way while I pack.”
Carla let him set the pace as they walked to Michael Farrier’s tavern. His leg thundered less than he might have expected. Kevin knew it was probably for no other reason than he was excited. Which was an absurd way to feel, given the risks he faced.
The Charlotte mayor had been perfectly clear about the fate that awaited him. His and Carla’s capture was almost inevitable. Even so, Kevin was filled with a genuine sense of purpose. This was the life for him, the course he felt destined to take.
When they arrived, he said it was best if he handled this alone. Carla responded, “Horses won’t help us if we’re not there to meet Pablo on time.”
“I’ll hurry,” he promised, then entered and asked for the proprietor. One of the guards recognized him and led Kevin up the stairs to find Farrier standing by the open front window, grinning down at where Carla stood in the street. “Shame to make a beauty like that one wait, lad. Even for an instant.”
Kevin held out the shop keys. “There are five wagonloads of jugs minus one day’s sales.”
Farrier cast another glance down to where Carla continued to wait. “Where are you off to with the young lovely?”
“We need four mounts, two with saddles, two for supplies,” Kevin replied. “Nothing so fancy as to draw the wrong kind of attention. But sturdy and fast. I also need payment for all the wares we have to sell.”
“We’re partners,” Farrier reminded him. “Partners settle up once the goods are sold.”
“And the house. I need as much silver as you think it’s worth.”
Farrier returned to his desk and waved Kevin into a chair. “So it’s a loan you’re after.”
“Only so much as is valued in the house and the goods.” Kevin saw Farrier was going to argue, so he added, “In case none of us survive.”
“What have you gotten yourself into, lad?”
“The girl downstairs has loved ones being held by Charlotte’s militia.”
“What makes you think you can help her?”
“There’s more,” Kevin said. “Caleb and Zeke left this morning, trying to save Caleb’s own fiancée from the Atlanta forces.”
“Two fools off chasing windmills doesn’t mean you should follow their lead.” When Kevin did not reply, Farrier added, “Is there a chance I can convince you otherwise?”
“None.”
Farrier looked disgusted as he shoved pen and paper across the desk. “Write out in a proper hand, deeding me the shop. And explain to your clan about our partnership.”
“You’ll give us back the house when we return your money?”
“If you return. And I don’t give much credence to your making good on that. But yes, it’s yours if you repay me.” He waited while Kevin wrote as fast as he could. Farrier inspected the document, initialed the bottom, and sighed in exasperation as he pushed himself from the desk. “Say you’re able to free her kin. Where is it you’re headed?”
Kevin hesitated, then decided someone needed to know. “I figure on trying to meet up with Caleb down Atlanta way.”
“Why are you bothering with them at all?” When Kevin didn’t respond, Farrier pressed, “I’m asking on account of how I’m looking for a reason to help you. Even when you’re getting yourself involved in such unprofitable nonsense.”
“My mother and I, we ran the Overpass side of the underground railroad. This woman and her fiancé were the last two I helped slip into Charlotte.”
“And look where that’s gotten you.” But the fire was gone from him now, and the disdain. “That’s a brave thing you and your ma did. Stupid, foolish, and without a hope of seeing a dollar from your troubles. But brave.”
“Thank you, Mr. Farrier.”
“I’m Michael to my friends.” He showed Kevin a ferocious scowl. “Even those I don’t reckon on seeing ever again. Now I’ll go see to your mounts.”
“And the silver,” Kevin said. “Please hurry.”