11
LIKE A SPIDER IN ITS WEB
THREE DAYS LATER Enton’s fever still hadn’t broken. He’d started tossing so much in his sleep, Darwin and Teresa had moved him back down to the floor, wedging the couch and love seat cushions beside him to keep him from rolling around. He lay there now, moaning, his head lolling back and forth.
Darwin had found a river at the back of the property. The water looked clean, but they boiled it anyway, saving what was left of the bottled water he’d found in the store for emergencies. The propane had run out the day before and Darwin had scoured the deserted town looking for more. There was none to be found, so everything was done over a fire behind the house instead. On his last trip out, he came back pushing a large, empty wheelbarrow that barely fit through the front door.
“We need to move. Find a bigger city or some people willing to help us,” Darwin said.
“How are we supposed to do that? We can’t move Enton.”
Darwin pointed at the wheelbarrow. “We fill the barrow with blankets and put him in it. I should be able to push it fairly well, I think.”
“We really shouldn’t move him.”
“We don’t have much choice. No one knows where we are, and we’re running out of food.” The nights had gotten colder as well, and he didn’t want to face a winter where they were.
Teresa sighed and looked at Enton. “Do you think it will work?”
“It has to. We can’t leave him, and we can’t stay here.”
It took them four tries to lift Enton into the blanket-lined wheelbarrow the next morning. Teresa grabbed his legs and Darwin reached under his arms, heaving Enton’s dead weight. Darwin placed two boards he’d pried off the backyard fence under Enton’s legs, tying them together so they stuck out the front of the wheelbarrow like antennae. It didn’t look comfortable, but at least his feet wouldn’t be dragging on the ground.
Enton’s feet—Darwin couldn’t think of them as anything else even with the damage—had gotten worse. Teresa had told him she’d cleaned out the wounds perfectly, and when she used the Threads, they looked clean to her. It wasn’t working, so there had to be something she was missing.
He didn’t think what was happening was due to the dragging anyway. Enton’s feet started turning black where the hole had sliced them, not at the cuts and scrapes they had given him dragging him into the house. If Darwin watched, he could almost see the black creep up Enton’s legs, following the blood veins. It had already crept a quarter of the way up his calves, and they’d swollen to almost twice their size. He didn’t think Enton was going make it.
It was something he and Teresa never talked about.
It took both of them to lift the wheelbarrow over the transom and down the short flight of stairs to the cracked sidewalk. From there, Darwin put a pair of thick work socks on his hands and took over, pushing the wheelbarrow down toward Front Street. At the store, they tucked whatever was left on the shelves in beside Enton. Even the cans of dog food.
They’d figured out where they were. Kind of. The name of the town was Gaston. What state or county it was in, they had no clue, which meant they had no idea of how far they had to walk, or for how long.
They had talked about it earlier, quietly in the dark while Enton moaned in his fever-induced sleep. Without knowing where they were, their best bet would be to head south. An extended search through the nearby houses didn’t reveal the proper clothes for the bitter cold of winter. They barely found enough just to keep warm now, and they’d gotten lucky with the temperatures so far. That wouldn’t last. Together, they agreed to stick to the only southbound road out of town until they found a bigger one, and then follow that. Eventually they would reach somewhere they knew, even if just by name, and could plan the rest of the trip home.
Home. There was no home for him, Darwin thought, no place to return to that he could call his own. No family that would welcome him. He pushed the thought from his head. There was no point in wallowing in self-pity; it wasn’t going to get him anywhere. He’d had his moment in the store on their first day here. That was enough.
Once they got Enton somewhere safe, and somewhere there was someone who could actually heal him, Darwin would make sure Teresa got back to her family. After that . . . he didn’t know. All he knew for sure was that if SafeHaven couldn’t figure out how to send him back to his world, he would leave. It seemed that wherever he was, people ended up getting hurt, or worse. That was the last thing he wanted for his angel.
Even in the wheelbarrow Enton was heavy. Darwin locked his shoulders and elbows and concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. The vegetation had taken over the highway, with the trees arching overhead creating a canopy that blocked out most of the sky. They maneuvered the wheelbarrow over cracked and broken concrete and saplings that had grown there. Travel was slow, and sometimes it took them both to get Enton to the next block of almost flat ground. They stopped a lot to rest, and each time he reached for the wheelbarrow handles again, he could feel the blisters on his hands stretching. The socks helped, but he just wasn’t used to this kind of work. Walking to and from his dorm room, sitting in a classroom with a bunch of other students, even his jogging didn’t build up the kind of muscles or calluses he needed for this. At least the constant concentration needed to keep the wheelbarrow balanced stopped him from thinking too far ahead.
He managed around four hours before he couldn’t do any more. Teresa took over and did a couple extra before they had to stop for the night. They moved off the road as best as they could, into a copse of trees. Though they weren’t sure where the road ended and the wilderness began.
Teresa checked on Enton, tucking in the blankets around him before shrugging off her backpack and rummaging through it. “What do you want for supper? We have roasted chicken, prime rib, and lasagna.”
“The lasagna sounds great.” He could hear the forced cheerfulness in her voice but couldn’t match it. His arms were sore, and his hands were covered in broken blisters.
“Okay, toss me the can opener.” She grabbed a can from their meager supplies. “It looks like our lasagna today will be green and long.” She showed him the can.
“Green beans?”
“Nope. Lasagna. Dripping in tomato sauce and loaded with spicy ground beef and fresh pasta.”
Darwin made a face. Green beans had never been one of his favorites. He lumped them in the same group as zucchini and eggplant. Disgusting. “I may not like lasagna after this.”
“Want to bet?” Teresa looked at him, her face set into a wide smile that made her eyes glow.
“No!” He started laughing; the stress of everything that had happened since he was pulled from his world swept through him. If he wasn’t laughing, he’d probably be crying instead, worse than what had happened in the store back in Gaston. He didn’t want to do that in front of Teresa. He knew it was stupid macho bullshit, but she was so strong and holding up so well, he had to try to do the same. She posed with the can of green beans and licked her lips. He fell, clutching his sides, and laughed harder. The tears came anyway, streaming down his face. But these were tears of laughter. The more he laughed, the more the Qabal slipped away. The Skends slid into the past with them.
Gasping for breath, he looked up. Teresa sat on the ground holding the can like a baby and quietly crying. Oh crap, what had he done now? He sat up, roughly rubbing the tears away.
“Hey . . . is everything okay?”
She wiped at her cheeks with the back of her hand and made a face. “No, it’s not all right. I hadn’t expected to be here, you know? Taking care of a hurt old man. Wondering if the Skends hit SafeHaven as well . . . if my mom and brother are all right.” She hesitated, lost in her own thoughts before shaking her head as if to clear it. “Walking god knows where with a complete stranger.”
Darwin’s chest tightened. “Not a complete stranger anymore. We have been together a few days.” He tried to smile.
“You know what I mean.” She waved her hand through the air, dismissing his attempt at being funny. “I’m supposed to be in Chollas Heights, learning how to use my talent to help sick and injured people, not watch them get worse.”
“If you were there right now,” Darwin said with an edge in his voice, “you would probably be dead, not helping anyone.”
She turned her back on him, rummaging through her backpack again.
Well, if I didn’t screw up before, I sure as hell did now, he thought.
“If you two are done bickering, I could use something to drink.”
They both turned around to face Enton. His face was still flushed, but his eyes were clear and alert. Teresa ran past Darwin and knelt at Enton’s side.
“Here, have some of this,” she said, holding a canteen and getting her arm under his head. “Not too much.”
Enton took two sips and leaned back, the effort obviously draining him.
“You haven’t been learning to heal for too long, have you?” Enton asked, looking at Teresa.
“No. I just started when I turned eighteen, a little over two years ago.”
“Too bad, you might have been able to save me.”
Darwin rushed in. “Save you? You’re awake, you must be getting better.”
“No, I’m not. I figure I have maybe a couple of days at the most. Mis-timing a hole is almost always fatal, unless you have a very experienced healer around.”
Fatal? Shit. The anxiety he’d managed to hold at bay rushed to the forefront. “Why did you stay so long?”
“The Qabal holed some Skends right next to me. I had to stop them from coming through with us.”
“You could have holed and stopped them on this end.”
Enton sighed. “Maybe. I made a decision. It may have been the wrong one, or it might have been the right one. No one will ever know, and second-guessing a decision you can’t change does no one any good.”
“But if—”
“Stop it,” Teresa interrupted. “He needs rest and more water, not an interrogation.”
Enton raised a hand and placed it on her arm. The look of concentration on his face when he did it drove home how bad things were for him. “It’s all right. He’s just scared and not sure what to do. I would be the same in his, and your, place.” He shifted in the wheelbarrow, and Darwin moved forward to stabilize it as Enton’s face twisted with the effort it took. “Now listen up. I’m not going to be here for long. Darwin, I’ve tried to follow your Threads, tried to See the images of your future, but everything is so cloudy, so convoluted. I don’t know what will happen, or what you will do, but I can feel that you are important to our universe, as well as your own. I believe the Qabal knew that. They took a chance by trying to turn you to their side. Now that that has failed, they just want to get rid of you.”
“Important? I’m just a guy from Jersey. I can barely use the Threads. I sure as hell can’t use them to take care of you or Teresa out here. What makes me so important?”
“You are strong, Darwin. Stronger than anyone I have ever met. With the right training, I think you could be the best Threader I’ve ever seen. And I wouldn’t worry too much about Teresa, she can take care of herself.”
Darwin barely heard the last comment. Two things had settled into his tired brain. Only one seemed to matter right now. “You See images too?”
Enton smiled, ignoring the question, and his voice got softer. “You already know more than you realize. That trick you did when you searched the parking lot took a lot of finesse and a lot of control. I can’t think of a single master who could have done it as easily, and they have had years of training. Teach yourself. Remember what the Dance Master said to you, follow your intuition, your emotions. The Threads will guide you, if you let them.”
“I can’t do that. I . . . I don’t know how.”
“You’ll figure it out.” Enton’s body relaxed into the wheelbarrow. “I’m so tired. Let me sleep.” His voice got quieter again and Darwin and Teresa leaned in to hear his words. “You can start by working together and maybe setting up a protective grid around us. Just try, you can . . .”
Darwin pulled back. Enton had fallen back to sleep, his face more flushed than before and sweat beading on his forehead.
They hadn’t asked where he’d holed them to.
Teresa used some of their precious water to wet a cloth and lay it on Enton’s forehead. It seemed to help. His breathing became easier and some of the flush left his cheeks.
She lifted his pant legs. The black creeping up his veins had gone above the knee. They couldn’t see more than that without cutting the pant leg open. Darwin felt a sudden sweat trickle down his back even though he was cold.
“He’s right, isn’t he?” asked Darwin. “He’s not going to make it.”
“No,” Teresa whispered. “I don’t think so.”
He stood and took a tentative step back, watching her fuss over Enton for a few more minutes. Without Enton, they were in deep trouble. Somewhere in the back of his mind he’d always thought that Enton would get them out of here, would help him find a way to get back home. Now he’d been told he had to learn to Thread. On his own. It was like walking into a physics exam without knowing any math. Teresa stopped her fussing and turned back to him.
“Shouldn’t you be trying to build that grid?” Her voice was hard.
“I don’t even know where to start.”
“Sure you do. Just sit down and start. Standing there isn’t doing it.”
Sit down and start. She made it sound so simple. But where to start? He walked back to where he and Teresa had their argument. Their first argument, he thought, and immediately felt heat rising up his cheeks. What was it about her that made him feel like he was still a teenager?
He lowered himself next to her pack and leaned against it. The cans and boxes dug into his back and he shifted to find a better position. It didn’t help.
Enton had told him to follow his intuition and emotions. The pain of what was happening to him must have affected his thought process. Even Darwin knew that bringing emotions into the equation was a fast track to insanity. It was one of the first things Bill had taught him.
Follow his intuition. How was he supposed to do that? He drew in a deep breath and closed his eyes, focusing on the Threads around him.
He had never tried to create Threads from nothing before. He didn’t know if it was possible, or where to start. Or if it was even the way to start.
Okay, could he convert an existing Thread into a “prison” one? The blue Threads around the Qabal building and his tent were fresh in his memory; maybe he could recreate one. He followed a single Thread, the way Bill had taught him long ago. It felt like years, but it had only been a few months. It slowed in front of him and hovered, as if uncertain of its path.
He moved the Thread closer, shocked that it actually responded to his request, and reached out to touch it. He felt nothing, which was to be expected. If you could physically feel every Thread, it would make life pretty complicated. The blue Threads he remembered were flexible, but strong. They’d wrapped around a tree branch and restrained it while still letting it move freely with the wind.
He poked beside the Thread and at the same time moved it to intercept his finger. They intersected right where he thought they would, but that still wasn’t right. If the blue Threads at the Qabal building were being controlled by a person, they would have known he was escaping without Frank running back to tell them. That meant him moving the Thread to intercept was completely wrong. That, and his Thread wasn’t blue. There was still something he was missing.
Pain started creeping in from Darwin’s right temple to just above his eye, feeling as though someone had taken a dull knife and jammed it in through his ear. He managed to ignore it for a while, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep this level of concentration up for much longer. At least not without becoming almost incapacitated like at Chollas. There was no way he was going to get any blue Threads to protect them tonight. Hell, he didn’t even know if he was on the right path.
He stopped and sat thinking for a while, feeling the headache recede a bit. Experience told him it wouldn’t go away until he got a good night’s sleep. As soon as he stopped, the doubt crept back in. What was Enton thinking? He shook his head. There was no point in the self-doubt. He could either do it, or not. He had to at least try.
Back at the Qabal headquarters and in his tent on the way to SafeHaven, he could See the blue Threads pretty easily, even before he had any training. If he created a shield around them, wouldn’t any Threader from a mile around be able to See it? They would stand out like a geeky kid on a football field. If the Qabal were around and saw it, it would be game over. If anyone who could See was around.
Maybe he was thinking about this all wrong. What if he just monitored the existing Threads to See if they were being manipulated or maybe even touched? Just being aware of the Threads was way easier than trying to See or follow any one in particular. It was basically what he’d done with Bill’s devices. It wasn’t what Enton had asked him to do, but it was worth a shot. It couldn’t have anything to do with the images. As far as he knew, they were the only two who could See them. He would question Enton on the images the next time he came out of his fever-induced stupor. If he had that chance.
“Teresa, could you come here?”
Teresa left Enton’s side. “Yeah, what can I do for you?”
“Could you walk in front of me, about three feet away?”
“Sure, why?”
“Just testing something.”
He opened himself up and let all the Threads in the area brush his senses. As Teresa walked in front of him, the overall pattern of the Threads changed. The change was faint, but there was definitely something there.
“Could you walk in a circle around me?”
Teresa moved, and as she did, he could feel a ripple in the Threads. Even with his eyes closed, he could detect where she was.
“Do it again, but change the radius of the circle, please?” He followed her again. “Are you about seven feet away, just about there?” He pointed.
“You’re pointing right at me.”
He felt like a spider sitting at the center of its web. Every vibration, every telltale sign of something entering his world sent a tiny signal back to him, a vibration in the web—the Threads. The interesting part was, it hardly used any of his strength. He just had to remain receptive, but not active. He did feel his arm affect the Threads when he pointed at Teresa, so he’d have to stay fairly still himself.
“Okay.” He opened his eyes, still trying to stay aware of the Threads. “I don’t think I can build a protective grid like Enton wanted, but I can tell when someone gets close to us. My best guess is I have about a one hundred-foot radius. That will have to do until I get better, or some training.”
“What about when you sleep?”
Her words sent a chill through him. “I hadn’t thought of that. Crap.” What kind of idiot didn’t think about sleeping? What the hell was he supposed to do now? “Look, why don’t you take the first watch now, while it’s still light out. I’ll sleep, and when it gets dark, you wake me up and I’ll watch through until dawn, then wake you up and I’ll get a couple more hours.”
“You’ll stay awake all night?” asked Teresa.
He could hear the skepticism in her voice. He wasn’t sure he could do it either. “I kind of have to, don’t I?” He could tell the false bravado didn’t work on her, but he also knew they didn’t have any other choice.
They shared the cold can of green beans, saving the liquid in the can once the beans were gone. Enton wasn’t able to eat, but if they dripped something into his mouth, he swallowed reflexively. It wasn’t much but it would have to do.
He was still hungry after, and he was pretty sure Teresa was as well, but without knowing how far they needed to go, it was better to ration their food, though they’d need more than a can a day to be able to continue walking. He kicked himself for not asking Enton where he had holed them to. He told himself there just hadn’t been enough time, but it was really just another mistake he’d have to live with.
After the meager supper, he rolled into a couple of the blankets and quickly fell asleep. It seemed like he had just closed his eyes when Teresa woke him up.
It got cold that night. Darwin sat shivering in the dark, wrapped in one of the blankets he had slept in. He had given the rest to Teresa and Enton. They lay together on the cold ground, sharing each other’s warmth. Even watching the Threads, he jumped at every unexpected sound and saw shadows moving at the edge of his vision.
They had talked about starting a fire, but decided it was too much of a risk. The smell might have brought in animals and the light would be too visible. Right now, Darwin was regretting the decision. He moved to collect some wood, accidentally letting the blanket that wrapped him slip open. The cold rushed in, and he moved back to where he was sitting, deciding, once again, against the fire. The lesser of two evils. He blew on his fingers and pulled the blanket tighter. If it got much colder, they wouldn’t have a choice.
The Threads wove around him, a soft gray that shimmered slightly in the pale light from the moon. He could feel them moving around and through their campsite. A hawk swooped out of the sky on silent wings, following a faint red Thread to its prey. Did it See the Thread, or was it all instinct? Did animals See and use the Threads the same way humans did? He thought back to the dog attack, remembered the Threads just before the attack, and wasn’t sure of the answer.
He guessed it was around midnight when the wind picked up. It didn’t affect the Threads’ movements, but the branches swaying and moving through them did, changing their pattern in random ways, sending signals through Darwin’s web. Suddenly, he could feel each branch, each leaf. His senses were overloaded, and it all became white noise.
There was no way this was going to be effective. If he stayed up all night with a wind like this, a whole army of Qabal and Skends could walk right through their campsite and he wouldn’t even notice. It was like the boy crying wolf. When do you actually believe what you’re being told? He decided that tonight he would have to risk it; he would try to follow the patterns of the wind and the branches and block them from his senses. Tomorrow he could experiment to See if there was a difference when a person—when something living—touched a Thread and when it was something inanimate like a tree. Was a Skend a living thing?
He didn’t know when he fell asleep, waking with a start, the blanket slipping from his shoulders, and he stared into the early morning gloom. An icy mist hovered in the air and his breath came out in a giant fog. He yanked the blanket back into place and tried to control the tremors sweeping through his body as it fought the cold, forcing himself to sit as still as he could and feel the Threads. Nothing seemed to be moving. The wind had died down, and the pre-dawn was quiet and still.
How could he have let himself fall asleep? How long had he been out? No more than a couple of hours was his best guess. It was his job to protect Teresa and Enton while they slept, and he’d failed miserably. Another failure he could add to the growing list.
He felt a twitch in the Threads, something that broke the pattern he had been watching for most of the night, and a chill ran down his spine that had nothing to do with the cold. Even in the wind last night, he’d learned a pattern that had remained essentially the same, if you took away the differences created by the branches. A task he hadn’t quite been able to do. This twitch was new, and he knew with certainty it was what had woken him up.
He held his breath, deepening his concentration, and followed the Threads.
It felt easier here than in Chollas; they almost seemed to welcome his touch and accept him as a passenger. He felt invited as they shifted again, and he jumped to one leading in the right direction. His senses moved along the ground, over the top of Teresa and Enton’s sleeping forms, and back toward the road they had been following yesterday. When he swept over Teresa, the air felt like honey, and he paused, feeling a bit like a Peeping Tom. Moving over Enton’s form brought back memories of the film Labyrinth, when Sarah and Hoggle had walked through the Bog of Eternal Stench. He shuddered and moved on. The air got warmer as he drifted closer to what was left of the blacktop highway, still retaining some of the heat from yesterday’s sun.
The Threads twitched again and then fell back into their regular patterns. Whatever was out there was moving. He expanded his senses again, ready to jump Threads when the next one changed its pattern. He suddenly tasted coarse fur in his mouth. The warmth hit him stronger, and he could feel a wildness rub along his cheek. He gently nudged the Thread closer to the ground, and the sensations changed. Now he tasted dirt and he tried to spit it out. There was something hard as well. It smelled pointy, but not really sharp. The thing moved, disturbing his Thread again. It lifted from the ground and settled back down into the overgrown gravel by the side of the road. A deer! Darwin smiled to himself. What he had felt was a deer walking along the road. He let go of the Thread and was once again back in the campsite, monitoring the general pattern of the Threads. He’d done it! He’d followed a Thread, and without physically seeing, he knew what was out there.
Yet it wasn’t enough. He remembered Carlos and Wally while they were traveling to SafeHaven. As far as he knew, they had both slept through the night. Yet the attack when they were in the mountains showed they had watched the area around the campsite. And they did it a lot farther out than he had. How did they do that? How had he just woken up? He sighed, wishing Bill had taught him more stuff. He was floundering in a sea of possibilities with no one to guide him. He would have to do all he could to train himself, then.
By the time the sun broke through the trees and the mist had started clearing, he still hadn’t figured out how he had woken up when the deer had entered his area. He would have to experiment when Teresa was awake. But not now. Exhaustion saturated him and a new headache was needling its way up to the front of his head. He struggled to his feet, pushing the cold from his joints, and went to wake Teresa.
She woke up instantly, the look of alarm on her face changing to a smile that warmed her eyes. Darwin resisted the urge to touch her smile, to feel the warmth between his hands. He smiled back and sat down beside her, almost forgetting the chill in the air before pulling his blanket around him.
“You look tired,” she said.
“I am. I fell asleep a bit this morning,” he said, feeling better telling her the truth. “But I managed to stay up most of the night. I think if I get a couple of hours, it will help.”
“Okay. I’ll wake you when it’s time.” Teresa got to her feet and handed him one of her blankets. “The sun will be up soon, and it should get warmer. You use it and get a good sleep.”
Darwin took the blanket with a thank you, glad she didn’t harp on him for not being able to stay awake. He lay down and pulled the warm blankets over him. Sleep came quickly.
When Teresa woke him up, she looked as bone-tired as he felt, and though there was still a slight chill in the air, she had removed her jacket and her face was flushed. Darwin jumped up, concern pushing all vestiges of sleep away, and scanned their impromptu campsite to see what was wrong. He reached for the Threads without thinking. The first thing he noticed was that Enton was nowhere to be seen.
“Where’s Enton?” For a brief moment he believed the fever had broken and Enton was just standing behind a tree.
“He didn’t make it.” Teresa’s voice cracked.
“Didn’t make it? Where is he?”
Teresa placed her hand on his arm and he shook it off, consumed by an irrational anger that built up from the soles of his feet.
“I covered him up,” she said. “He’s under a pile of rocks, just through there.”
Darwin followed her pointing finger. A trail of trampled grass led through the trees to a little opening beyond. He didn’t—couldn’t—move, his feet frozen to the cold ground until Teresa pulled him down the path she had created, and they came to the cairn at the edge of the overgrown field. She moved out of his way, but he refused to pass her. In front of him was a perfect snapshot of the image he had Seen back in SafeHaven. Teresa stood with her back to him, staring at the pile of rocks Enton’s body lay under. What used to be fields, but were now overgrown with shrubs and weeds, spread out to the distance and a small cross made of branches tied together by grass blended in with the background brown. Another lost life fell on his shoulders. Was it him that had brought Enton here, to this point? Was it because he had Seen this image, brought it to life?
He wasn’t strong enough to do this.
“I’m sorry.” Teresa turned back to him and leaned her head on his shoulder.
“I . . . I didn’t really know him.”
“Does that matter?” she asked.
He stood in the shadow of the trees staring at the cairn, barely recognizing that Teresa hadn’t moved. She was right, it didn’t matter. It felt like a piece of him was suddenly missing, a piece he didn’t even know existed until it was gone. Despite Enton’s words yesterday, he had still held onto the hope that somehow Enton would get them back, maybe even get him home. All that and more was gone now.
“He sat beside me when the Dancers came to SafeHaven. He was just another old guy in the crowd. We met again the next day, and he tested me. I . . . I saw this. Enton dead, the cairn, the fields. You, though I didn’t see your face.” He wiped his cheek with the back of his hand. “I told him what I saw. He brushed it off as though it didn’t mean anything. That night, the Skends attacked, and I left.”
He turned his back to the pile of rocks and took the trail back to their campsite, the anger that had dimmed when he saw the cairn flaming into a raw heat. “Come on, we had better get moving.”
They packed up in silence, each lost in their own thoughts, and started down the road, the wheelbarrow left behind to become a rusty relic. The sun barely broke through the trees, leaving them in shadows. They slowed in the occasional spots of sunshine to soak up as much of the heat as they could before moving on.
Half an hour later, Teresa broke the silence.
“What are we going to do? I mean, Enton knew where we were. He was the only one who really knew how to use the Threads.”
Darwin didn’t answer. He hadn’t let go of his rage, and it had wormed its way through every part of him. Was she trying to make him feel weak and stupid? It was pretty obvious he didn’t know what the hell he was doing, but then, neither did she. Who did she think she was to put him down like that? It was because she blamed him for being out here. And she was right. A sharp retort had formed on the tip of his tongue when she spoke again.
“I’m scared. I don’t want to be out here. I don’t know what to do.”
He heard a slight tremor in her voice and the rage fell instantly silent. He wasn’t mad at her, or even at Enton. He was mad at himself for being inadequate. For the deaths that fell on him like lead weights, making every step forward more difficult than the last. Here he was just about to bite her head off for putting him down, when all she wanted was for him to step up. He was so used to being an outsider, so used to being alone. He slowed his pace and walked beside her, putting his arm around her pack, and pulled her close.
“I don’t know what to do either,” he sighed. “I guess we just keep on going, keep heading south to get away from the cold weather. Eventually we’ll figure out where we are, and then we can make a plan to get you back home.”
Teresa was silent for a while. “What about you?” she asked.
“My home is a long way from here, though I think Enton might have said it’s not really that far at all.” He let her go and picked up his pace a bit, forcing some cheer into his voice that he didn’t feel. “Come on. Another couple of hours and we’ll stop for a bite to eat.”
Two days later, they sat huddled beside what was left of a cold, empty farmhouse, the first shelter they had found. Everything before it had been destroyed by what looked like a massive carpet-bombing attack. Even the highway had disappeared into a landscape of craters and shattered vehicles. They’d opened a can of creamed corn that had partially frozen overnight. It was like sucking down frosty mucus. Darwin added a new item to his green bean, zucchini, and eggplant list. They packed up their makeshift campsite in the overgrown front yard they’d slept in. The house itself had almost burned to the ground, apparently years ago. Black charred timbers held up a partially collapsed roof and a tree had rooted itself firmly in the middle of it. They hadn’t wanted to spend the night in it, even though it was the only protection from the bitter wind that had sprung up yesterday afternoon. He didn’t think the structure would stand for another winter. Frost coated what was left of the roof, and lay on the tips of the tall grass and weeds that had infiltrated the house’s footprint. The breeze created the illusion of a silvery liquid sea.
They were both well rested. Over the last couple of days, Darwin had tested and discovered he could monitor the Threads while he was asleep. He wasn’t sure how it worked, but if something entered his area, he woke up. The more practice he got, the larger his area became. He guessed he was close to five hundred yards out now. Enough to find a place to hide if someone came close.
They’d averaged four or five hours of walking a day, getting maybe ten miles in during that time depending on the condition of the road and how much bush they had to weave through. It was less than they had done starting out pushing Enton’s wheelbarrow, but it was progress that gave them enough energy to start the next day. They stopped to share a small bite of food when the heat of the day got to its worst, moving when it got cold again. It surprised him how warm it could actually get at this time of year.
The nights, though, had gotten worse, with temperatures falling dramatically. Teresa had insisted they huddle together under their blankets to conserve body heat. Despite his feelings toward her, the closeness made him uncomfortable, but common sense told him it was the only way to make it through. Over the last two nights, he found himself looking forward to it, enjoying their whispered conversations and shared warmth before finally drifting off to sleep.
Darwin pulled on his pack. Even lifting it seemed more difficult than yesterday.
“You’re not putting rocks in here while I sleep, are you?”
Teresa laughed. “Nah, just most of what I used to carry in my pack.”
He looked over and saw she was struggling as much as he was. They’d each been eating around a can of whatever they had every day, but it wasn’t enough. “I think maybe we should be eating more. I know we don’t have much, but if we can’t carry what we do have, then it’s useless to us anyway.”
“We need it to last.”
“I know, but—”
“Let’s talk about it at lunch.” She finished shouldering the pack and walked down the overrun driveway. He watched her for a while before jogging to catch up. What was with her attitude?
Their feet had blistered and the packs weighed them down at every step, feeling like they were double the weight they had been when they’d left Gaston. Even though the nights were cold, the sun shone down during the day with an intensity that surprised him. They both had red sun- and wind-burnt faces, and their water was down to less than half of what they’d started with.
Ten minutes after starting their day, a sign told them they had entered Lafayette. They still had no idea what state they were in. The only Lafayette Darwin could think of was in Louisiana, and the traces of snow that had lined the ditches on the two-lane highway told him they were nowhere near there. The place was bigger than Gaston, but still had a small-town feel. A few blocks in, Teresa made them stop.
“We need to find another store.”
“I don’t know if we can carry more food. We’re both getting tired and weak. This place looks bigger than Gaston. They’ve probably all been raided.”
“Whether we can carry it or not is beside the point. We need more food.”
He knew she was right, but the thought of carrying more weight tired him even more.
They spent a total of two hours in Lafayette, coming up empty-handed in the food department. When Teresa split from him in the stores, he pretended to be busy looking elsewhere. He had no idea if she found what she was looking for, and the topic was never brought up again.
They didn’t hit another town for days, continuing to walk during the coldest parts of the morning and afternoon, and resting when it was warm. If they found a farmhouse when it was time to stop, they huddled inside it, too scared to build a fire. It was still better than sleeping in the ditches or fields.
The house they’d found the previous night was a good one. All of its windows were still intact and there was a well outside. When they dropped the bucket, it broke through the thin layer of ice forming across the top. They’d even risked a small fire the night before, hidden behind the two-story structure, bringing the water to a boil and pouring it into their empty bottles, enjoying as much of the heat as they could.
The next morning, only a few hours after they left the farm, the view changed. Overgrown fields gave way to houses, and soon they were walking down a wide deserted street that surprisingly was still mostly intact, a high concrete wall on their left and what used to be well-maintained houses on their right. Somewhere along the road, they had either missed the sign for the city, or it had been taken down.
This place definitely had the feel of a much bigger city. Darwin crouched down in the bushes on the side of the street opposite the wall and waited for Teresa to join him.
“We need to keep sharp. Last time I was in a bigger city—well, before San Diego—I was attacked by a pack of dogs. Who knows what else could be in here.”
“I live in San Diego, remember?”
“All I am saying is people may not be the only problem. We’ve been lucky so far, I think. You told me yourself that some of the communities wouldn’t be as friendly as yours. I’ll watch the Threads the best I can, but I’ve never done it while moving, and you’ll need to catch the things I miss. Someone I know once said to use my eyes and not rely solely on the Threads. You’re our eyes.”
Teresa flashed a brief smile. “I can do that.”
They stayed closed to the treeline and continued into the city.
Despite his monitoring, he almost missed the smell of rough, textured cloth and the taste of bad breath. He reached out to Teresa, grabbing her arm and pulling her to a stop.
“What is—”
He held up a hand to keep her quiet. He followed the Threads, trying to find the source of the disturbance, but couldn’t locate where he’d felt the person. A Goodwill Donation Center stood on the street corner to his right and he tightened his grip on Teresa’s arm.
“Come on,” he whispered, moving his grip to her hand and pulling her after him.
She followed him without any complaint.
He pulled her into the shade between the building and a mass of overgrown hedge and hunkered down behind them. They didn’t have much cover, but with the contrast between bright sun and the darker shade, he was hoping anyone looking would miss them and keep moving on. Teresa had just squatted down on her heels beside him when a group came around the corner by the overpass they’d been heading for. They pressed deeper into the foliage.
There were five of them, walking in a loose circle. As they got closer he could tell their clothes had seen better days; they didn’t fit and the pants had holes in the knees. He doubted it was a fashion statement. It was like they got them from a secondhand store. His heart thudded in his chest and his blood froze in his veins. What if that’s what they were doing now? He took a quick glance behind him at the broken windows of the Goodwill, but couldn’t tell if there was anything still inside.
The five sauntered down the middle of the street, four of them constantly scanning the buildings, two looking left and two looking right. The leader, dressed in all black and taller than the others with long greasy black hair hanging from a bald pate, kept his attention forward. It looked like he was ignoring the others, but if one of them stepped in his path or got too close, he moved around them with no hesitation. A Threader? If he was, and the group was violent, Darwin knew his hiding spot was useless and he wouldn’t last a minute against them.
Risking detection, he touched a Thread that was moving in the general direction of the group and rode it closer, just like he had at Chollas when the Qabal had shown up. He figured he was about four feet away when the greasy-haired one stopped in his tracks and slowly turned in a circle, the rest of the group following his lead. Darwin dropped the Thread and watched with his eyes.
After doing a complete circle, with the four peering into every shadow, the group whispered amongst themselves before moving on again, turning down a side street by the car wash on the next block. Teresa let out a huge breath and Darwin followed suit.
She leaned in and breathed in his ear. “Is it safe, are they gone?”
Darwin shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t want to follow them. I tried to get closer when they walked past, but it was like the taller one suddenly noticed me. That was when they stopped and looked around.”
“Do you think they know we’re here?” Another soft whisper in his ear. He could feel her hair brushing against his cheek.
“I think he knows something is here, just not what or where.” Darwin paused, still looking at the street corner the group had disappeared around. “I don’t think they’re Threaders, or they would have tried to find us.” He paused. “I’m tempted to head back the way we came, but they may be waiting behind the car wash. We should move on, try to stay near the buildings. When we get close to the street, run across it as fast as we can until we reach the cover of the beer store.”
“There is no place to hide there.”
“No, but we should be able to use the shadows. And look just past it, on the other side of the big intersection by the overpass. You can hide in those trees.”
“What about you?”
“I’ll be right behind you.”
“Do you want to wait a few minutes? Make sure they don’t come back out of there?”
He thought about it for a bit before answering. “Yeah, good idea. I don’t want to stay here too long, though. It feels exposed.”
They waited and watched for five minutes before he put his hand on her knee, feeling a tingle run up his arm. “Okay, let’s do it.”
When she stood and moved to the corner of the building, he immediately missed the heat from her body, the tickling of her hair on his cheek as she whispered to him. It wasn’t the first time he’d fallen hard for a girl, but somehow, this felt different. There seemed to be a connection between them that went beyond their shared experiences. Or maybe it was the experiences that made what he felt so real.
He watched her as she stood peeking around the corner and mentally chastised himself. Days of walking alone on the highway and sleeping wherever they could, and she only got close to him when they were in trouble or at night for warmth. He shook his head. This was no time to lose it over Teresa. He told himself to get his head together, to get over it, and followed her to the corner.
The beer store was maybe thirty to forty feet away across the intersection. They would be fully exposed when they ran. Was it a risk they wanted to take? He looked down both streets—twice in the direction the group had turned—and made a decision, nudging Teresa forward. She ran without hesitating and without looking back. He kept looking down the streets, seeing no motion, no sign of anyone watching. When she settled into the shade of the beer store, she almost disappeared from view. Only a slight smudge from her shirt could be seen, but it could have been anything. At least she’d grabbed a darker color when they’d left Gaston. Darwin took one more look down the streets, sucked in a deep breath, and bolted after her.
There was barely enough room in the shadows for both of them, but they huddled together, holding their breath, and waited for any reaction to the mad dash. Nothing moved, and he started to breathe a bit easier. He glanced over his shoulder to look at the clump of trees by the overpass. A sidewalk cut through them, leading up to the overpass road, but it looked like it would provide enough cover to hide them while they caught their breath and decided what to do next.
The intersection they had to cross was bigger than the last one: two lanes in each direction and a turning lane instead of a small side street. And they had to cross the beer store parking lot before they got there. Darwin briefly considered staying where they were, but the trees offered much better protection. Enough to be worth the risk. But it wasn’t just his decision to make. A whispered conversation with Teresa confirmed what they were going to do.
His heart hammered in his chest, and he was sure he could hear Teresa’s over his own. He took one last look behind them.
“Are you ready?”
She just nodded in reply.
“Go!”
This time he didn’t wait until she crossed before following her. He took off just after she did, and she slowly widened the gap as they ran. By the time they reached the cover of the trees, he was winded by the mad dash. It was only about a hundred feet, maybe, but running full tilt was different than the walking they’d been doing. It was different than the jogging he used to do at home. Teresa seemed to recover faster than he did and was breathing normally and watching the street while he was still bent over sucking in huge gobs of air. He knew it was shallow, but he hoped she would blame it on the lack of food.
“I think we made it,” Teresa whispered.
“You think so?”
Darwin jumped at the voice, straightening and turning in one rushed motion.