Jacob clung to the bars surrounding him, gritting his teeth as the vibrations of the cruiser bounced him around the backseat. The throttle roared in his ears. He looked out, watching the land slip by.
After following the stranger through the trees, weaving up the valley for nearly half a mile, they had arrived at a small clearing where the dark green craft from yesterday waited, looking beat-up in comparison with the teens’ sleek floaters. Without a word, the stranger had hoisted Jacob into the seat behind the cockpit, jumped in the front, and taken off, plowing through the high grass, then turning onto a road of sorts where the ground had been worn flat.
At the path he veered left and accelerated. Jacob had never ridden in any kind of transport, let alone one that moved so quickly, and his stomach rose and fell with every hill. They didn’t travel long, maybe ten minutes. At first, Jacob thought they were going to the city—at each rise he could see it before them. But toward the end of the trip the stranger turned off the trail and onto another that seemed equally used.
Already sick to his stomach, Jacob again began to panic. He’d had no control over anything that had happened to him today. Numb with shock by the fight at the lake, he had followed the stranger’s instructions like an automaton. But now, with nothing to do except cling for dear life in the backseat, he had plenty of time to think about what was happening. He still had no idea who this man was or where he was taking him. All he knew was that the man was dangerous—more dangerous than Turner and his friends put together. Yet, he had saved him, hadn’t he?
Before he had any more time to wonder, the cruiser turned between two hills. Beyond, the area opened into a meadow dotted with the same kind of trees Jacob had seen at the lake. They passed into the shade of a large copse and emerged on the other side, where a house squatted on the side of a rise. A deck encircled the front. The dwelling was different from the buildings in Harmony; the face was comprised of large panes of glass, and the structure wasn’t made of metal, but a smooth material that gave the house an earthier look than the industrial buildings of Harmony. The cruiser pulled up before the house. The man exited the driver’s seat and approached Jacob.
“You look a little green,” the man remarked, looking him over. “I guess the ride’s a bit rough when you’re not used to it.” As always, his face was blank, offering neither sympathy nor hostility. Jacob didn’t move. The man spoke again. “Well, you can stay in there if you want, but you’d probably be more comfortable down here.”
Jacob stood up, and the man helped him down onto the ground. He steadied himself against the side of the cruiser. He noticed that his hands were shaking; in fact, his whole body trembled.
“All in one piece, don’t worry,” the man said.
“I don’t understand,” Jacob said. The ground beneath him was beginning to settle, but his mind was still a whirl of confusion, anger, and fear. “Why did you save me back there?”
“You’re welcome.”
“Well, yesterday you didn’t. You just left me to keep going.”
“Guess I should have done the same today,” the man snapped.
“Well, if you had picked me up yesterday, none of that would have happened. That’s all I’m saying,” Jacob mumbled. He figured it was foolish to challenge the stranger, but he was too tired and sore to care.
“You didn’t need my help yesterday. And you wouldn’t have today if that idiot Turner and his two cronies hadn’t shown up. Anyway, like I told you, I had things to do.” The man scowled. “Besides, why should I be responsible for every person I come across who’s stupid enough to wander the plains alone?”
Jacob looked down and didn’t respond. Instead, he blinked back tears, trying not to give in. The afternoon was catching up with him—the violence, the shallowness and cruelty of the teens, the indifference of this man—all of it crashing down in a wave that threatened to wash him away. They were right, was all he could think. My teachers, my parents, everyone. Everything they said about the Seers was true. He was a fool.
The man sighed and went to the back of the cruiser. He retrieved a satchel and passed Jacob, heading for the house.
“I need a drink,” he called back. “And we need to take care of that nose. You look like hell.”
Not knowing what else to do, Jacob followed him to the house. Along the way, he reached up, felt his nose, and winced. It was swollen and tender, and his face was sticky from the dried blood.
They ascended a set of steps to the deck. Jacob paused at the top. From this height the deck looked out over the meadow, where the trees rustled in the breeze, whispering to one another. In the distance he could see the city towers.
When he glanced back over his shoulder, the man was watching him.
“Like the view?” the man asked. His voice had softened.
Jacob nodded. “I’m Jacob,” he said after a minute.
“I know,” the man said. “I heard you tell the girls.”
“You were there the whole time?” Jacob asked.
The man shrugged. “I watch people from time to time,” he said. “You probably know what that’s like,” he added. “Right?”
Jacob looked down. He felt himself blush but said nothing.
“I’m Xander,” the man said at last. “Alexander, really. But I go by Xander.” He turned and walked inside. Jacob followed.
The house was spare and neatly arranged. Most of the interior was one lofty room with a kitchen, a table with benches, and two large padded chairs facing the wall of windows. A staircase along one side ascended to a balcony where several doorways led to back rooms. The opposite wall was lined with shelves housing rows of narrow, rectangular objects. While Xander went to a cabinet in the kitchen and took out two glasses and a bottle, Jacob approached the shelves and removed one of the objects. It had a cover, which he opened. Inside was gathered a stack of thin sheets made of unfamiliar material that was flexible like the thinnest cloth but much stiffer. As he flipped through them, he noticed they were filled with strangely patterned rows of markings. Xander poured a light clear liquid into each of the glasses, filling one halfway and the other less than a quarter full. He approached Jacob, carrying both glasses.
“What are these?” Jacob asked, holding up the item.
“Those are books.” Xander seemed puzzled and somewhat amused by the question. “I guess Blinders wouldn’t have need of them. Hell, most people probably wouldn’t know what books are, anyway. They’re old-fashioned. Collectibles. I’ve gathered most of them over the years on business. You read them—those symbols represent words.”
“I’ve heard of reading,” Jacob said. “We learned about it once in school. We don’t need to read. Our recordings provide information. My teacher said it’s more efficient that way.”
“Right. Here, drink this,” Xander said, handing Jacob the glass.
“What is it?”
“Something to help you sleep. It’s medicine.”
Jacob took the glass and drank it. The liquid burned in his throat and made his eyes water. “That tastes horrible,” he said, choking.
“Like I said, it’s medicine. Medicine always tastes bad. Now, let’s get you cleaned up.”
He had Jacob sit down on one of the table benches while he retrieved a small box from the bathroom just off the kitchen. Sitting down opposite from Jacob, he took a pad of soft material, soaked it in some solution from a brown bottle, and began gingerly applying it to Jacob’s face. Jacob winced at the sharp pain, but soon it began to subside. He felt a mild numbness around his nose. The solution had a sharp odor that, while not unpleasant, made his nostrils prickle.
“What is that stuff?” Jacob asked.
“Cleanser,” Xander said, still dabbing. Jacob could see his blood on the cloth. “It’s also got a healing agent in it. The swelling should go down soon.” He shook his head. “That Turner whaled you good.”
“I don’t understand,” Jacob said. “I didn’t do anything.”
Xander sighed. “Doesn’t matter,” he said at last. “You were there. He could hit you. He couldn’t hit the others.”
“Why didn’t they help me?”
“I don’t know,” Xander replied. “They’re rich kids. They don’t do much good or bad in the world.”
He finished cleaning Jacob’s face and packed everything back in the kit except for the cloth. He took it to the sink while Jacob finished what was in the glass.
“Go rest,” Xander said, rinsing the cloth. “Head right up those stairs to the far room; there’s a spare bed waiting for you.”
“You mean I can stay?” Jacob asked.
Xander held up his hands. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, now.”
“Oh.”
The man frowned. “Just go upstairs. I’ll wake you for dinner.”
Jacob obeyed, finding it comforting to be given orders and, most of all, to have someplace to go. By the time he reached the top of the stairs, warmth was spreading from his stomach throughout his body and lightness filled his head. He found the room and surrendered to the comfort of the bed.
* * *
A delicious aroma woke Jacob. He stretched his sore muscles before sinking back into the mattress, still drifty from sleep. Then he stiffened, seized by a moment of confusion in the darkness of the room. At last he remembered where he was, remembered everything that had happened to him since leaving Harmony—the hunger, the thirst, the fatigue, not to mention the violence and the fear—it all came rushing back. He wrapped the blanket tighter around him. It was behind him. He was safe now. He didn’t really know Xander, but somehow he felt safer than he had in a long time. Then again, he thought, remembering the beach, you said that before. And what happened?
He got out of bed and went downstairs. It was dark outside; Jacob wondered how long he had slept. A few lamps cast the room in a warm glow. Going to the window, he noticed he could see his reflection in the glass. He touched his nose—it was still tender, but the swelling he’d felt earlier appeared to have gone down. When he turned around, he saw Xander watching him from the kitchen table. He seemed to have just finished eating. An empty plate lay across the table from him, with platters of food in between.
“I was about to wake you,” the man said. “Food’s still hot—help yourself.” He rose, left the table, and stepped outside into the darkness.
Jacob sat down. He helped himself from bowls of mashed potatoes and beans and took a large piece of what tasted like beef. He wondered if it was grusker. As much as he had eaten at lunch, he felt ravenous again and stuffed himself. He couldn’t remember having eaten so much food in one day. Compared with the limited portions he had been served in Harmony, this was a feast. He thought of his parents. What meager dinner were they having right now? He imagined the two of them eating silently in the total darkness of the underground house.
When he finished, he brought his plate to the sink and went out onto the deck. Where had Xander gone? With the light of the house behind him, he peered into the dark. Utter blackness lay before his eyes, pressing in on him. He had spent nearly all his life in darkness, but this momentary blindness frightened him. He could see nothing before him and felt disoriented by the vastness of the night. Slowly his eyes adjusted. In the distance he could distinguish points of light on the horizon where the city lay, casting a steady glow into the sky around it.
A breeze picked up. The smell of smoke drifted into his nostrils. His heart began to pound; growing up, he had been taught to fear fire as the ultimate danger. In school they had practiced fire drills and what to do if they detected the odor of smoke. They had learned about a devastating fire in the colony thirty years ago that had destroyed much of the eastern tier before burning itself out, and about the occasional fires that swept the prairies, consuming everything in their path. Striding to the edge of the deck, Jacob looked to the right, in the direction from which the aromatic scent wafted, and spotted a flicker of light between the trees. Taking a deep breath, he told himself that it had to be Xander’s fire, that it was a controlled burn.
Should he go down there? Maybe Xander wanted to be alone, but Jacob didn’t. He walked down the staircase toward the light.
He passed between the trees into a small clearing. Xander sat on the far side of a circular pit lined with stones in which a fire burned. The flames illuminated the clearing from below, revealing the trunks and lower limbs of the trees around them, casting shadows that danced amid the light. In the glow, Xander’s face appeared to shine. His eyes sparkled beneath the recess of his brow. He motioned Jacob to sit on a stump to the left of the pit. Jacob settled down as Xander threw a few pieces of wood on the fire, releasing a cloud of sparks.
“Not much wood on this planet, but I collect the fallen pieces,” the man said.
“It smells nice,” Jacob replied.
“The wood of the zephyr tree.”
For a few minutes neither spoke. Jacob stared at the flames flickering about the dry limbs. They crackled as they ignited, dissolving into the white light of embers. A sense of peace seemed to radiate from the focal point of light into every part of his body. The fire, constant yet ever changing, was as beautiful as anything he had seen so far.
“Have you always lived here?” Jacob asked.
“No.”
“How long?”
“A while,” the man said.
“Well, where did you live before?” Jacob asked. “What did you do?” So far, the man’s answers weren’t very helpful. “Did you use to live in that city?” The man was quiet. “On another planet?”
The man sighed at the barrage of questions. “Five years,” he said at last. “I’ve been here five years. I used to be a soldier, a company man. Not anymore. I fought for the Mixel Corporation—they’re the jerks that basically own this planet—for twenty years all around the Rim. Can’t believe I’m still alive. I shouldn’t be.” He shook his head.
“You fought in wars?” Jacob asked.
“I wouldn’t exactly call them wars. More like two kids fighting over who gets which toy. Trade routes, resources, open planets, colonization rights, franchises—everything. Most of the battles were illegal. Some of them were secret.”
“So how did you get here?”
The man paused, gazing deep into the fire before answering.
“When I retired, I put in for some land here on Nova Campi, and the bastards gave it to me along with a pension. A fair exchange for all the dirty work I did for them.”
“You killed people?” Jacob whispered.
“Yeah, I killed people—people who tried to kill me,” Xander snapped, glancing up. He looked back into the flames. “Can’t say I enjoyed it. Can’t say I hated it either.”
Jacob shivered, remembering how smoothly Xander had dispatched Turner and his friends. He didn’t understand everything the man was telling him, but it was enough to make him uneasy. He decided to change the subject. “You must get lonely out here by yourself.”
“Never.”
“What do you do?”
“Nothing. As much as possible. Other than that, I drive around, see what there is to see—which isn’t much, and that’s good too.” He shrugged. “I read. I drive into Melville every few weeks to pick up supplies and an occasional book.”
He paused, his eyes probing Jacob through the dark. “What about you? A Blinder who can see—you’re a walking contradiction.”
Jacob didn’t know how to respond. He felt self-conscious in the firelight.
Xander sensed his discomfort. “Another time,” he said. “For now, don’t worry. You’ll be all right.”
“That’s what you said yesterday.”
For the first time, Xander broke a smile. “You got me.”
The flames smoldered. Xander stirred the fire with a stick, collapsing the remains into dull embers. He rose and Jacob followed him through the darkness back to the house, where inside the bright light made Jacob wince. Without a word they retired to their separate rooms. Jacob undressed and crawled into bed, but try as he might, he couldn’t sleep. Images of the day’s events kept flashing in his mind, tiny fragments that replayed themselves over and over as he stirred within the tangle of sheets. Eventually he drifted off. As he slipped into sleep he imagined a white figure stumbling across the plains as he floated high above, helpless. Whether the figure was Delaney or himself, he wasn’t sure.