They drove through most of the night, stopping occasionally for hurried discussions and even hastier bites from the sacks of stolen food. Each time, the six of them traded ideas. Kevin, Caleb, and Pablo were joined by Carla, Irene, and Maddie, everyone talking at once, and all of them so tired they neither took note of nor cared where the ideas originated. All the mentats who had not succumbed to exhaustion were ordered to send out waves of intent, telling anyone who sought them that they were headed south, south, south. Over and over the message rang out, as though the mentats were talking among themselves, which they were. Discussing what life would be like once they reached the southern boundary, passed Jacksonville, and entered the dead zone.
In truth, as soon as the trail they followed met a better road, they headed north.
Caleb only shared the barest of impressions with the others. But it was enough. None of them required a more careful explanation. Nor did they have time to deliberate. Their trust in him and his plan was that strong.
Near dawn, Forrest directed Kevin and the other drivers down a rutted trail that ended by a derelict farmhouse. The rain stopped just as the group halted. They arranged the vehicles in a semicircle around the barn, the only structure with half a roof. They hauled bedrolls and blankets inside, hunting down dry spots and scattering field mice in the process. Caleb waited while Pablo and Kevin set the guard roster, then threw himself down and was gone.
Sometime after daybreak Caleb dreamed of the eagle design. Only this time it was etched like empty branches against a wintry sky. He opened his eyes, fully awake now, his mind filled with impressions from the dream.
He rose from the bedroll he’d shared with a young boy no more than six or seven years of age. He took pen and paper from his pack and walked to the watch fire that burned in what was left of the farmhouse kitchen. A pail of water rested upon the stone-lined well. Caleb drank deep, washed his face, then seated himself upon a fallen roof beam.
He was busy writing when Maddie walked over and joined him. He did not need to look up to know it was her. Nor did she find any need to speak. Even now, as he hastily scribbled down everything he could recall from this latest event, he felt surrounded by the immensity of her love. It was like a great wave of emotion had approached with her, and now it enveloped him. Patiently waiting while he wrote.
When he set the notes aside, he looked up in time to see the eastern sky begin to clear. Brilliant streamers fell through the cloud covering, turning every surface into crystal prisms. He turned to face Maddie, and for the first time since the mad rush began, he studied her intently. Maddie continued to watch the fire, granting him space for a long and unhurried look.
There were subtle differences from the way Caleb remembered her. She was taller than he recalled, for one thing. And her hair seemed thicker, with more blonde shades amid the brown. Her hands were seamed and the nails rimmed by torn skin. She was also quieter now, or so it seemed to him. The silence was more than just an absence of words. She carried a new stillness at a bone-deep level. And she looked exhausted. Her eyes were framed by plum circles as dark as bruises. Her skin appeared translucent, as if her fatigue had stripped away an external layer.
They were surrounded by the soft patter of droplets falling from exposed rafters and the trees. Caleb could hear snores from inside the barn. Farther out were the soft footfalls of mentats on sentry.
The fire’s warm glow created a haven for them as Maddie softly spoke. “I knew, Caleb. I knew you would come. It wasn’t through some form of far-seeing. That’s your gift. I knew because I know you. I was certain all it would take was one cry, one plea, and you would do what was needed and be there. For me. For all of us.”
Caleb resisted the urge to reach out and embrace her. She needed this chance to speak, as he had to study her.
Maddie watched the crackling fire and went on, “I had no evidence, nothing I could show the others. We couldn’t risk contacting you. I knew the suits had watchers in place. So late at night I shared with all those who could connect by thoughts or images or emotions . . .”
“We call them mentats,” Caleb said.
She nodded acceptance. “I shared with our mentats what I knew about the man I love.”
“How many mentats are there among you?”
“It’s so hard to say. The youngest ones are . . . I suppose flexible is the best word to describe them. Most of them received enough to tell their families I was going to make everything okay. The adult mentats did the same.” She looked at him, revealing the golden flecks in her gaze, the unshed tears. “It was so hard, Caleb. I’ve spent my entire life hiding. But here I was, using my secret gift to share the deepest part of what I knew about the man I love.”
He reached for her then. She molded herself to him. They sat like that, warmed by far more than a meager fire, until approaching footsteps sounded behind them and Kevin asked, “Can we join you?”
“Yes,” Caleb said, and straightened, because it was time.
They were joined by Carla and Irene and Pablo and Forrest. Then Dale and Tula and Hank. Tea was made in the water pail, the largest container they possessed, and gradually others came over and seated themselves.
While they shared what food they had left and passed around mugs, Caleb used a blank sheet of paper and drew the image he had now envisioned twice, that of the eagle in full flight. He handed it to Maddie, who passed it on. As it made the rounds, Caleb said, “I have a plan.”