While Kevin’s team finished their meal, Pablo resumed his role as sergeant of his company. He was everywhere at once, quietly supervising those who loaded the truck while keeping Tula, Hank, and Forrest all on careful sentry. Hank was a slender waif in his early twenties, with a teen’s body and an ancient’s gaze. He crouched in the barn’s afternoon shadows and tossed rocks while staring at the northern woods.
The farmer and his wife took up station by their kitchen door and watched them through the screen. But they made no protest, not even when Carla and Doris returned the hamper and dirty plates, nor when Kevin deposited a pile of silver coins on the stoop and said they were taking the cooking pot and wooden ladle.
They drove away in midafternoon. The truck was silent, the sentries watchful. They headed back east as though they intended to rejoin the Augusta–Jacksonville highway. It was the logical course, for this was the nearest route that might keep them clear of Atlanta’s border patrol. But five miles later, Kevin turned onto a rutted asphalt track that pointed straight south. The road was in such bad shape their progress remained little more than a crawl. He was burning fuel at a prodigious rate, but their vehicle had left Charlotte with a full tank, more than enough to make it to Atlanta and back.
They followed the asphalt trail for almost two hours. Six times their sentries raised the alert when Atlanta’s militia rode nearby. But none of the hunters turned down this particular trail. Eventually Pablo ordered the sentries to refocus. They were frightening the little ones, he told the trio. The only militia that concerned them now were those who came close enough to take aim. After that, the sentries remained silent.
Finally, as the sun touched the western treetops, they found what Kevin had been hunting. Their trail ended at a T-junction, joining with a better road that ran west to east. If they took the right-hand turn they would be aimed straight for Atlanta. Kevin reversed back a quarter mile, then told the crew they could climb down and unlimber, just stay quiet. He and Pablo crept back and positioned themselves where they could observe the intersection and remain unseen.
The clouds slowly gathered and blanketed the sunset. Half an hour later, five farm carts rolled slowly by, heading away from Atlanta. Adults sat on the front benches while children sat atop burlap sacks or rode the backs of weary horses. A trio of bonnet-clad girls sat in the rearmost wagon, clapping hands and singing as they rode. Kevin saw guns in all the wagons, but none of the riders appeared to be on high alert. He assumed these families had taken wagonloads of produce into Atlanta and were now returning home with store-bought supplies. Which was why he had stationed himself here, to be certain the western road connected to a working checkpoint.
When the last wagon vanished in the eastern shadows, he rose and said, “Let’s make camp.”
Pablo found a clearing surrounded by a growth of new elms, with a small but clear-running stream. Once the truck was stationed for the night, Pablo went back and covered their wheel tracks off the trail. They debated, then decided they could not risk a fire.
The rain did not come that night, which was good, for they had no camping equipment. The balmy weather meant most of the team could spread out over the clearing and get a good night’s rest. Kevin sat with Forrest for the pre-dawn watch. They were stationed in the truck’s cab. Kevin could see nothing of the night beyond the first line of trees. Nor did he need to. He was there to ensure Forrest remained awake and attentive.
“Is it okay if we talk?” Kevin asked. “I don’t want to interrupt you or anything.”
“Do you stop listening when we talk?”
“Not if I’m alert.”
“There you go.”
Through his open window, Kevin heard the distant rumble of thunder. Somewhere beyond the thick blanket of clouds, dawn was breaking. The surrounding trees were indistinct drawings painted in shades of slate and brown. “So what’s your story?”
“I was a waste-disposal engineer. Basically I loved and hated my life in equal measure. It was as safe as it was boring.”
“You lived in Charlotte?”
“All my life.”
“When did you discover this sensitivity of yours?”
“I was twelve.” Forrest settled more deeply into his seat. “You’ve known other adepts?”
“Two friends. One is a hunter. The other . . . To tell the truth, I’m not sure exactly what Caleb is.”
“He may not know either.” Forrest waved at the slumbering forms in the clearing. “Some of our crew, they didn’t have any idea they were gifted until all this started.”
“Gifted,” Kevin repeated, thinking of all the trouble and turmoil their abilities had caused.
“A few still don’t know anything beyond the fact that they have shown the two attributes,” Forrest said. “That’s what the dark suits call the measurements they can identify with their helmets. Attributes.” He was quiet a moment, then added, “They’re the ones who still wake up screaming.”
Kevin decided he didn’t need to know what Hollis and the suits did to try to make those young adepts identify their abilities.
Forrest went on, “At first, all I knew was I could hear things others couldn’t. My mother insisted I was making things up. When she finally accepted it was real, she was terrified. As long as she was alive, she wanted nothing more than for my gift to vanish.” His tone was matter-of-fact, which to Kevin’s mind only heightened Forrest’s compacted sorrow. “My dad, he was great. He made up games and we practiced together in the garden shed. He pretended we’d set up a detective agency together. Another day we were backyard spies. Of course, he made it clear the gift had to stay our secret. But he made things bearable by giving me an outlet. One that was fun. One that made my father my best and only real friend.”
Kevin searched the gradually strengthening day and wondered what it would be like to have such an ability and never speak of it. He thought of Caleb and Zeke and felt their lifelong burden more intensely than ever before.
The light was strong enough now for Kevin to see the man’s sad smile. “I suppose that’s how I stayed content with my life. I liked the orderliness of my job. I did something that went unnoticed but was crucial just the same. And from that safety, I kept searching the hidden and the unseen. But it cost me—I suppose it had to. I was married once, but it didn’t take. I never told her about my ability. Now I think it was probably a mistake. Yet something held me back.” Forrest sighed. “A year to the day after our wedding, she said she’d had enough of living with an enigma.”
Through the cab’s open rear window, Kevin heard the camp begin to stir. At the same time, the first raindrops tapped upon the truck’s roof. He had a hundred more questions, a thousand. But all he said was, “We better start getting ready.”