Tanner and Samantha stood in front of the Raines’ family cabin, the sun just beginning to light the trees around them. He hadn’t said ten words since getting up, and she knew that it was because of his concern for Issa. Desperate to show the women of her colony that they could become pregnant, Issa had departed for Mount Weather some forty-eight hours earlier but had yet to return. That could only mean one thing.
Something had gone wrong.
Samantha tossed her pack into the bed of the Power Wagon as Tanner struggled to unfold a map and lay it across the hood. The sheet metal was cold and damp from the early morning dew, and she had to reach across to help smooth the bunched-up paper.
“Issa would have avoided the highway,” she said. “That leaves out I-81.”
Tanner grunted, studying the map.
“If she went east to Greensboro, she could have taken Highway 29 all the way up to Mount Weather.”
He grunted again.
Samantha turned and looked up at him.
“Did you eat breakfast?”
“Huh?”
“Breakfast? Did you eat?”
“Of course.”
“Did you have enough?”
He squinted. “What are you getting at?”
“It’s just that you’re snorting more than usual.”
“I’ll have you know that I ate fried potatoes, four eggs, and some of that stuff we pretend is bacon.”
She shrugged. “A start, I guess.”
Tanner growled and turned back to the map.
“Issa would have skipped Boone. She’s never felt comfortable around those folks.” He ran a finger up a small highway that cut north through the Blue Ridge Mountains. “I’m thinking she went straight up Highway 421 through Mountain City, and then turned east on Highway 11. That would get her almost all the way there.”
“Highway 11…” she said, frowning. “Why’s that sound familiar?”
“Haven’t the foggiest.”
Samantha began tracing the highway. “Wait a minute,” she said, her voice rising. “That goes right by the Natural Bridge!”
“So?”
“So that’s where we ran into that crazy army guy with the bow!”
“He’s dead. You know that.”
“Still, what if he had friends?”
“He didn’t.”
“How do you know?”
“He wasn’t the friend-making kind of guy.”
She mused on that for a moment.
“Fine. But we’re not stopping there or anywhere else along the way. Agreed?”
“Okay by me.” He folded up the map and took a moment to count the jerry cans in the back of the pickup. Four cans, each filled with five gallons of fuel. It should be enough, but just barely so.
“Why are we bringing those anyway? Can’t we just siphon gas from cars along the way?”
“We’re bringing them because most of the gas left in cars is about as useful as grape Kool-Aid.”
“Now why’d you have to go and bring up Kool-Aid?” she said, licking her lips. “You know I miss that stuff.”
“My point was that gas is degrading.”
“Why’s it doing that?”
“Because back in the early 2000s, the powers that be started mixing ethanol into fuel to make it burn cleaner.”
“That’s a good thing, right?”
“Well sure, but nothing’s free. Ethanol-blended gas only lasts a few months before it starts to absorb water. Once that happens, it doesn’t burn right. Not to mention that the water rusts out a car’s fuel system.”
Samantha furrowed her brow. “Is the gas in cars like that now? All watery?”
“If it’s not there already, it’s getting darn close.”
“All of it?”
“Ninety, ninety-five percent. Darn near all of it.”
A worried look came over her face.
“Does that mean the world’s going to run out of gas? That we won’t have enough for cars or generators? We’ll be back to the horse and buggy days!”
“Nothing wrong with horses or buggies.” When she started to protest further, he said, “But don’t worry. I suspect there’s plenty of gas without ethanol sitting at the refineries. Someone just has to go and get it.”
“But not us.”
He shook his head. “Not us. Not today, anyway.”
She glanced over at a small gravity-fed fuel pump they had installed along the side of the cabin.
“What about our gas? Is it turning watery too?”
“It took some effort, but I managed to get nearly a hundred gallons of the good stuff. Unfortunately, thanks to our little trip over to the nuclear plant, we only have about half of it left.”
She nodded toward the jerry cans.
“Are those enough to get to Mount Weather and back?”
“They are, as long as we don’t get sidetracked.”
“Then we’re doomed for sure.”
“What makes you say that?”
“When was the last time we didn’t get sidetracked?” She waited for an answer, and when it didn’t come, said, “Never, that’s when.”
“If we end up walking, so be it.”
“Easy for you to say. You like walking.” Samantha didn’t complain about much, but walking long distances was on her short list of bellyaches.
“I’ll have you know that some doctors say that putting one’s feet in contact with the earth provides all kinds of health benefits. They call it grounding.”
Samantha seemed surprised. “Really? Is that why you walk so much?”
“Of course not. I walk to get from one place to the other.”
“But what about the doctors?”
“Nut jobs, every last one of them.”
She rolled her eyes. “Has anyone ever told you that you make no sense whatsoever.”
“Never.”
Samantha scoffed. “Yeah, right.”
He smiled, and they stared at each other for a moment. Another journey was about to begin, and they both felt the flutter of butterflies.
“You feed your chickens?”
“Of course. Did you leave a note for Issa in case she comes back while we’re gone?”
“Of course,” he said, mimicking her tone.
“Then I guess we’re about as ready as we’re going to get.” Samantha swung open the driver’s-side door and scrambled into the cab of the big truck. “Another day, another dollar.”
“How’s that?” he said, climbing in.
“My dad used to say that. It means that each day costs you a little something.”
Tanner rarely corrected Samantha’s misunderstandings of idioms. While it was probably not very parent-like to allow her to keep the misconceptions, he enjoyed hearing her humorous takes on such phrases.
“Sounds good to me,” he said, starting the truck.
“What do you think today’s going to cost us?” she said, staring down the long dusty driveway.
He popped the truck into gear. “Doesn’t matter.”
“Why not?”
“Because, darlin’, we’re going to pay it either way.”
They weren’t even out of the driveway before life reminded them of the old adage about the best laid plans. A dark blue Impala barreled up the dirt road, bouncing over potholes as it narrowly avoided careening into the trees.
Tanner hit the brakes and reached for his sawed-off shotgun.
“It’s Father Paul,” Samantha said, laying her hand on his. Father Paul only infrequently came to visit, and never at such an early hour. “Something’s wrong.”
As the car drew closer, it came to an abrupt stop, sending a cloud of dust over the Power Wagon. Tanner and Samantha barely had time to open their doors before Father Paul climbed out and hurried toward them. He was a portly man, bald except for a white ring of hair that had always reminded Samantha of a fuzzy halo. Dressed in a dark blue union suit, it looked like he had just rolled out of bed. As he approached, they noticed there was a woman in his car, but with the reflection of the early morning sun, it was difficult to make out her face.
“Oh thank heavens,” he breathed. “You’re here.”
Tanner nodded. “Father.”
“Mr. Raines, I have a favor to ask.”
Tanner shook his head. “Sorry, padre, not a good time.”
“I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t terribly important.”
“What is it?” said Samantha.
Father Paul offered a perfunctory smile but quickly turned back to Tanner.
“Please, sir.”
“Not this time,” he said, turning to get back into the truck.
“But bad men have done something awful.”
Tanner pulled his door open. “Bad men are always doing something awful. That’s why they’re called bad men.”
“What did they do?” said Samantha.
Father Paul looked back toward the Impala as if seeking the occupant’s approval. Finally, he said, “It has to do with the nuns.”
“There are nuns in Boone?” Samantha didn’t remember seeing anyone that even vaguely resembled a nun. Perhaps they dressed differently now?
“No, no,” he said, quickly shaking his head. “Their monastery is over in Crozet, Virginia.”
Crozet? Samantha thought that the word sounded strange, like a cracker with cheesy stuff on top.
“Let’s go, Sam,” Tanner said, standing with his hand resting on the truck’s door frame.
She was about to suggest that they at least hear Father Paul out when the passenger climbed from the Impala. A woman in her early sixties came forward, dressed in a white habit, black scapular and veil, and a thin red belt tied around her pudgy waist.
Samantha smiled, but it was met with a dispassionate stare.
The nun gently placed a hand on the back of Father Paul’s shoulder.
“God will help us to find another.”
“I’m sorry, Sister, but there are no others. The townspeople in Boone won’t undertake something so far from home. For things like this,” he said, and looked at Tanner, “we come to him or his son. There is simply no one else.” Father Paul raised his hands, palms clasped together as if about to offer prayer. “You will help us, won’t you?”
“It’s like I said, Father—”
“We’ll help,” said Samantha. She turned to Tanner and repeated in a quieter voice, “We’ll help.”
“But Issa—”
“Issa would want us to help. You know that.”
He sighed. “Detoured before we’ve even left the driveway.”
“Which means that our journey hasn’t technically yet begun.” She turned back to Father Paul. “What is it you need us to do?”
“Allow me to introduce Sister Mary Margaret, the prioress of Our Lady of the Angels Monastery.”
Samantha looked to Tanner. “Prioress?”
“Big cheese.”
“Ah,” she said, nodding.
“Please, Sister,” said Father Paul, “tell them what you told me.”
The nun stepped forward with a stiff stateliness.
“Yesterday afternoon, men came to the monastery. They took our four youngest nuns, Sister Mary Elizabeth, Sister Mary Josephine, Sister Mary Eunice, and Sister Mary Clare.”
Samantha raised her hand.
“Yes, young lady.”
“What’s with everyone being named Mary?”
“The Blessed Virgin Mary gave birth to the Son of God through the Immaculate Conception. It’s only right that we acknowledge her holy contribution.” She cast a disapproving look in Tanner’s direction. “Perhaps you and your father need to spend more time reading.”
“Oh I read a lot. Don’t I, Father Paul?” Before he could answer, she said, “Mostly I like books about animals. Kangaroos and rabbits are my favorites. I used to read a lot of vampire love stories, but honestly, just how many can you take? But you’re right about Tanner. He says that books make him sleepy. Truthfully, I think his eyesight may be going, you know, given his age and all.” She rattled the words off like she was playing catchup with her oldest friend.
The nun stared at her with befuddlement, obviously not quite sure what to make of the twelve-year-old.
Hoping to get to the meat of things, Tanner said, “Do you know where the nuns were taken?”
“Yes. I’m afraid I do.”
“Where?” Tanner knew what was coming next. The captors were no doubt holed up in some flea bag motel or trailer park, having improper relations with four of God’s most faithful. It was just that kind of world nowadays.
“They’ve been taken to the DeJarnette Children’s Asylum.”
“Huh?”
“The DeJarnette Children’s Asylum,” she repeated.
“I heard you the first time. But why would they take them there?”
She shook her head. “That I don’t know.”
“What’s an asylum?” asked Samantha.
“It’s a place where the mentally ill are confined and treated,” explained Sister Margaret.
“Confined? Like prisoners?”
She nodded. “The ones who can’t be helped otherwise.”
Samantha turned to Tanner. “They locked kids up?”
“Sounds like it.”
“But why?”
“They were very sick,” offered Sister Margaret.
“That’s what hospitals are for,” countered Samantha.
Sister Margaret argued the point no further.
“How do you know that’s where they were taken?” asked Tanner.
“I overheard one of the men mention the facility.”
“You’re sure?”
“My ears work as well as most.”
“How many kids are being held prisoner at the asylum?” Samantha was clearly having trouble believing that such a place even existed.
“I should have made myself clear,” said Sister Margaret. “The DeJarnette Center has been boarded up for more than twenty years.”
“Boarded up? As in closed?” said Tanner.
“That’s right. There was talk at one time of converting it into a shopping mall, but that apparently fell through. For the past twenty years, it’s been the den of drug users and would-be ghost hunters.”
“There are ghosts?” Samantha said in an excited tone.
“Here we go,” muttered Tanner.
“No, young lady. There are no such things as ghosts.”
Samantha furrowed her brow. “But I thought Catholics believed in a Holy Ghost.”
“We do, but that’s different.”
“How’s it different?”
“It just is.”
Samantha shrugged. “Okay, but I don’t see how.”
“Ghosts, monsters, and the like are all made up for late night storytelling. Our faith is most certainly not.” The nun’s tone was growing firmer.
“You don’t believe in monsters?”
“Of course not.”
Samantha nudged Tanner and cracked a smile.
“She doesn’t believe in monsters.”
“Not everyone can be as wise to the world as you are, darlin’.”
Samantha nodded. “I am pretty wise.”
Tanner turned to Sister Margaret. “Why would these men take a handful of nuns to an abandoned children’s asylum?”
“As I said, that I don’t know.”
“You’re sure the women had no connection to the place?”
Sister Margaret shook her head. “The nuns were barely old enough to walk when it was in service. Those of us who do remember the place were not taken. It’s a real mystery.”
Tanner said nothing, noting the woman’s wrinkled skin and bulging midsection. The fact that men would take the younger, more nubile nuns wasn’t quite the mystery she professed.
“All right,” he said. “What is it you want from us?”
She looked to Father Paul to do the asking.
“We were hoping you could help to free the sisters,” he said, shuffling his feet nervously.
“By going to this abandoned asylum?”
“That’s right.”
“And facing off with the men who took them?”
“I don’t know that you would need to ‘face off’ with them, as you put it. But yes, I was hoping to have a firm hand at Sister Margaret’s side.”
“At her side?”
Sister Margaret met his stare. “I would, of course, be going with you. These women are in my charge, after all.”
Tanner looked over at Samantha. “I’m liking this less and less.”
Instead of trying to convince him, she retrieved the map and once again spread it across the hood of the Power Wagon.
“Can you show us where the asylum is?” she said.
Sister Margaret took a moment to find the city of Staunton, Virginia.
“There,” she said, touching the map with her finger.
“There? You’re sure?”
“Yes, dear. Is there a problem?”
Samantha turned to Tanner. “You do see where she’s pointing.”
“I see it.”
“The asylum is directly in our path. We’ll literally be seeing it out our windows.”
“What’s your point?”
“My point is that this was meant to be.”
“Our stopping by an abandoned insane asylum to free some kidnapped nuns was meant to be?”
“Great,” she said, folding up the map. “I’m glad we both agree.”
It was a trick that Samantha had played on him a hundred times before, but Tanner didn’t feel the need to contest the decision any further. Like it or not, they were taking a road trip with a cranky old nun.