THIRTEEN: Naomi and Martin: Colorado Springs, CO


Naomi reached the end of her endurance when they rode into the parking lot of Gold Camp Elementary school. She reined Ben in, staring at the brick building where both her girls had attended, Macy just last year, Piper so long ago. From Manitou Springs, they’d ridden cross-lots to get here, through neighborhoods and across green spaces, in ways unfamiliar to her from the time before. She’d done a double-take, startled by recognition, and the past had risen up to drown her.

Shiny new first days and end-of-school award ceremonies. Parent-teacher conferences, and volunteering at holiday parties. School carnivals, music concerts, and so many years of waiting outside for her girls in the pick-up line. She couldn’t see through her tears, through the flashing images of face paint and balloons, of art projects stiff and bright with tempura paint, of little girls flying towards her on skinny, churning legs, one blonde, one with hair the color of sunrise. The sob tore out of her and took all her strength with it.

Naomi slid out of the saddle, boneless and clumsy, clinging to Ben’s neck to keep her legs under her. Ben curled his head around her, and she pressed into his shoulder. “I’m done. I can’t. Please.”

The words didn’t matter; she didn’t even know what she was saying. The pressure had been building in her chest for days, and if she didn’t let it out, she couldn’t keep breathing. She had grown accustomed to living without Macy at the cabin. Here, just a few miles from their home, on ground Macy’s feet had run over, the loss was brand new and unendurable.

It had started on the trail two days ago. They had decided to travel back over the route Naomi and Macy had taken last spring rather than risk riding into unknown dangers in the narrow canyon that cradled and confined Highway 24. For Naomi, it was a surreal and horrifying trip back in time. There was the spot she’d confronted Dylan and Evie; here was where Macy had rested, waiting for her to come back with a vehicle; and here was where they’d camped, the very spot Naomi had held her living, breathing daughter in her arms on that last night. Here, right here: Macy’s last sunrise.

When they had located her truck in Manitou Springs, it had taken every bit of grit she possessed to sort through the items she’d packed so long ago, to move aside a small purple sweatshirt and a backpack covered with brightly-colored owls to locate the items they would pick up on the return trip. She held her breath the whole time, terrified that Macy’s scent might have lingered on her things, knowing that would be the end of her. She had not anticipated this. How could she have let herself be so completely blind-sided?

A large, warm hand landed on her shoulder, and Naomi turned, eyes streaming, to face Martin. “I can’t do this. I do not have the strength, do you hear me? I can’t see the places where she should be.” Her voice, already shaking, broke on a wail that tore the wound wide-open. “She should be here, and she’s not, she’s not, she never will be again!”

Martin lifted his other hand so he was holding both her shoulders, squeezed, then gave her a little shake. He ducked until his dark eyes met hers. “Naomi, I’m sorry you’re hurting, but this is where I say ‘I told you so.’” His eyes were somehow tender and hard as flint at the same time. “If you decide to turn back, I’ll ride with you to the trail head, but I’ve got to go on. I told you this would be hard, but you didn’t want to listen. So, what’s it going to be?”

Naomi gaped at him, literally stared with her mouth hanging open. Where was the comfort? Where was the gentle hug, the shushing, the reassurance? She slapped angrily at the tears tickling her cheeks.

“Your compassion is overwhelming.” Her voice was still shaking, but the grief had retreated, burned off by the swift wild-fire of anger. “I’m not quitting that easily.” She shoved his hands away, then stared at him with narrowed eyes. “Did you do that on purpose? Or are you just that heartless?”

Challenge flared in his eyes, but that was as far as it got. He shook his head at her, then headed back towards Shakti. “Think whatever you want.” He remounted, then turned to face her, his eyes concealed by the brim of his hat. “Can we get going? I’d like to get there while we’ve still got plenty of daylight.”

Naomi turned away and shut her eyes for a moment. Hades, who had been ranging and sniffing, came charging around the side of the school, called by her distress. He slowed to a trot as he approached Ben – they’d worked that out, thank goodness – and pressed against her for a hug and an ear-ruffle. Naomi obliged him, then mounted Ben. She took the time to scrub her hands over her face, tighten her pony tail and re-settle her hat, putting herself back together before she nudged Ben into motion. Without another word to Martin, she took the lead and rode out of the parking lot.

There was the mini-van she and Macy had seen in the middle of the road on Cresta, the man’s body now just a pile of bones and rags. And here was her street. Naomi was gritting her teeth so hard her head ached, but she didn’t allow herself to slow or falter. She would not say, not even in the privacy of her own mind, that Martin might have been right. That this was too hard. That she shouldn’t have come.

She summoned Hades to her side with her mind, then joined with him, using his senses as well as her own to feel her way down the street. He was alert and watchful, and though nothing was actively alarming him, he was agitated. He recognized the area, Naomi realized, when she felt the pull inside him towards his old street, his old home, his dead people. She chirped at him softly, and when he looked up, she sent him a wave of love. “I know, boy. I know. It’ll be okay, sweet boy.”

Hades whined softly, and she felt the return wave, so generous. The clop of the horses’ hooves on the pavement sounded so loud, here in the silent neighborhood. Martin nudged Shakti up until they were riding side by side.

“Seems deserted.” He glanced at Hades. “What do you two think?”

Naomi frowned. “I’m not sure. It’s quiet, but not…empty. I don’t feel like we’re being watched, but I don’t feel like we’re alone, either.” She glanced at Hades, concentrating for a moment. “He’s picking up recent scent, but nothing hot, nothing immediate. There’ve been people around, though. In the last couple of days, I think.”

Martin pulled his rifle free of its scabbard and let it rest across his lap, then undid the snap on the pistol holstered at his waist. Naomi swallowed but followed suit, adding to her list of things she never could have dreamed she’d do: Riding a horse into her old neighborhood, armed and ready to shoot. Welcome to the wild, wild West. Surreal. When they reached her house, she rode up the driveway and dismounted. “This is it.”

She turned to see Martin scrutinizing the exterior. He looked at her with raised eyebrows as he dismounted, lifting Persephone from her perch behind the cantle of his saddle and setting her down to stretch and sniff. “Damn, Naomi. What did you say your husband did? Nice place.”

Naomi turned back to the house and tried to see it with his eyes. Through the piled-up trash and the dead, overgrown front lawn, it was still possible to see that it had been a cared-for home, a tended-to home. It was a nice place. Scott had made good money, and she’d poured her heart into this house, making it beautiful. For all the good it did either of them now.

Naomi took a deep breath. This, she had prepared for, and she was as ready as she’d ever get. She called both dogs to her, then put them on a stay in the front yard, reinforcing that with a mental command to watch. Then she headed for the front door, which was only half there. “Looks like someone has been inside.”

Sure enough, the house had been looted. In her mind, she had walked through each and every room, had imagined just this kind of destruction, and she was able to let her eyes coast past shattered vases and gutted, broken furniture. Things. Just things. “The storeroom is downstairs. Let’s see if they found it.”

She started to pick her way through the wreckage, then realized Martin wasn’t following her. He had moved to the fireplace and stood gazing up at their family portrait, taken the autumn before the plague. She joined him, and a smile lifted both her heart and her lips.

The shot had been taken at Helen Hunt Falls, and though the vivid fall foliage and waterfalls had been beautiful, they’d all frozen half to death. They had traipsed from spot to spot, wrapped in winter coats until the last possible second, then tossed their coats to the side just long enough to smile for the photographer. As always, her eyes touched the sliver of bright turquoise where Piper hadn’t tossed her jacket quite far enough for this picture. The photographer had offered to Photoshop it out, but Naomi had declined. She loved that small imperfection.

“We went downtown to Rico’s, afterwards,” she murmured. “For some of their Aztec hot chocolate. Scott and Piper loved that stuff. Piper was home from college for the weekend. It was a good visit.” She turned to find Martin watching her. “What?”

He shook his head. “You lose it in a school parking lot, but this doesn’t faze you. Looking at this picture. Seeing your house wrecked. I’ll never figure you out.”

“I was ready for this.” She looked back up at the picture. “It’s what I don’t see coming that I struggle with.”

“You had a beautiful family. Piper looks just like you.”

Naomi had been hearing that for years, and she responded automatically. “Sure, if you add 50 pounds and lotsa mileage.” She blinked. “Well, the mileage for sure. Let’s go.”

Martin followed this time, trailing her through the gutted kitchen – oh, they had ruined her beautiful butcher-block island, why would someone do that? Naomi pressed grimly on, opening the basement door, but Martin put his hand out to stop her, taking the lead. He slung his rifle over his shoulder and un-holstered his pistol, stepping silently down the stairs ahead of her. The looters had been here, too, but they hadn’t discovered the secret storage room. Martin watched while Naomi scooted boxes to the side, then whistled when she pulled open the hidden door. He whistled again, longer, when he stepped inside.

“You folks were prepared, that is for sure.” His eyes swept the shelves. “Over-the-counter meds and medical supplies, Rowan’ll dance a jig. Food, water, paper goods, an extra generator. We can’t take it all back with us, but this is great. We’ll come back with pack animals.” He turned to where Naomi was fingering the rim of her grandmother’s orange juice pitcher. “What’s all that stuff?”

“Treasures.” Naomi had to clear her throat. “Things we couldn’t take with us but that I wanted to keep safe.”

She ran her hand over the pile of photo albums, then noticed a bright beribboned and sequined little box she hadn’t put there. It must be something Macy had added. Her hand hovered over the box then closed into a tight fist. “Grab anything you think we’ll need. I…I’ve got to get out of here.”

She waited just outside the door for him, looking around at the holiday décor and seasonal clothes that had been dumped out of boxes, strewn about and trampled underfoot. Honestly, what was the point of that? She folded her arms across her chest and tucked her hands in her arm pits, resisting the urge to tidy and straighten. She had prepared for this, she had, but it was hard not to feel violated.

A minute or two later, Martin stepped out with a bulging rucksack. He held it up. “The medical supplies. Everything else can wait.”

He helped her close the door and re-stack the boxes in a deliberately haphazard fashion, so it looked like the rest of the basement. Then they headed upstairs, to see what was left of the weapons Naomi had left behind in the gun safe. This, too, she had prepared for, but it was a shock just the same, seeing the door to their bedroom hanging crookedly from one hinge. She hurried ahead, then gasped and rushed into the room.

The bed had been torn apart, the mattress sliced open and hauled to the side so the box springs could be similarly vandalized. Scott’s corpse lay on the floor, half underneath the mattress, and she could see where some of the seals on her make-shift shroud had broken and fluids had leaked out. Zeus’ body was nowhere to be seen. The disrespect for her husband’s remains made a red haze drop over her vision. Rage gave her strength, and she reached down to haul the mattress back to its rightful place and off her husband’s body.

“What the hell!” She looked up. Martin was standing in the doorway, staring not at the destruction, but at her. He jabbed his finger at her. “If you ever – ever – rush into a room that hasn’t been cleared like that again, I will…” He clamped his mouth down tight and breathed through his nose, staring at her.

Naomi didn’t even register his words. She straightened, and gestured at Scott’s body with a shaking hand. “Do you see this? Why? Why couldn’t they just leave him alone?” She bent again and grasped the plastic covering Scott’s body, preparing to lift him back onto the bed. “Why would someone do this? It makes me sick!”

Martin was suddenly at her elbow, nudging her aside. “You take the other end. Okay, on three.”

Together, they lifted Scott’s body back where it belonged. Zeus’ body had been under the mattress as well, but his plastic shroud had been torn open, strewing black fur and bones across the floor. With loving hands, she scraped the pile together as best she could and nestled her sweet old boy next to Scott. She stalked to the closet to get a clean quilt from the shelf, and suffered her second shock.

The safe had been cut open, apparently with some kind of torch, given the burn marks. It was empty. Scott’s weapons all gone, Piper’s too, along with the ammunition. She must have made a distressed sound because she felt Martin right behind her seconds later. She dug into her pocket for the key to the safe, holding it up. She had carried this damn key all the way to Woodland Park and back again, so proud that she’d kept track of it. “Guess we won’t be needing this, then.”

In a sudden rage, she threw the key as hard as she could at the empty safe. It pinged off the metal with a satisfying sound. Naomi grabbed an empty hanger – because, of course, they’d dumped all her clothes on the floor, too – and whacked and whacked at the safe, venting her fury. She kicked it for good measure, and the pain that zinged through her big toe calmed her a bit. She stood on one foot, eyes closed, and breathed hard. Then she looked up at Martin, who was just gazing at her.

“I’m fine,” she snarled. Martin nodded slightly but didn’t say a word, his expression guarded. Naomi bared her teeth at him, then bent to rummage around in the mess on the floor until she found a quilt. She pushed past Martin, and unfurled it over her husband, smoothing, patting, until it was just so, just the way she wanted it. Then she straightened the things on the bedside tables, setting the lamps back up, restoring the pictures to their proper places, making sure Scott’s book, bookmark still in place, was just where he liked it. When she was finished, she stood, staring without seeing. Martin’s hand on her shoulder made her jump.

“Take a minute, but then we’ve got to go.”

Naomi nodded, heard him leave, then went to sit beside Scott on the bed. “Not doing too great, honey. Sure wish you were here to pick up my slack.” Oh, it felt so good to talk to him again. She had missed him so, so much. She reached out to the place where Scott’s hand would have been, and fisted a handful of quilt. “Our baby girl, I just couldn’t keep her alive. She’s with you, I know that, but I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” It surprised her, to feel tears on her cheeks, and she wiped them away absently. “Piper, well, I’m on my way to find her, but I kind of suck at this, honey. It should have been you, who survived. You were the one with the skills and the smarts to protect our girls. I wish you were here, instead of me. I wish I were braver.”

A sound in the doorway made her look up. Martin had his pistol in one hand, Persephone in the other. The little dog was quivering with nerves, and it only took a moment for Naomi to ascertain why. She looked up at Martin, and they spoke in unison.

“Someone’s here.”

Naomi followed Martin down the stairs in swift silence, pistol in her hand, stomach jumping. At the doorway between the kitchen and the front room, they stopped, leaning to look out the big bay window to the front yard. They had left Ben and Shakti tethered right in front of the window. Beyond them, Hades bristled at full alert, staring at a group of four men. All of them had rifles or shotguns cradled in their arms.

One of them took off his baseball hat to wipe his forehead, smoothing back a brush of iron-grey hair in the same motion, and Naomi gasped. “Oh my god! I know him!”

She started forward, but Martin’s hand flashed out to block her way. “I go first. Holster your pistol and use your rifle to cover me from the door. Do not let them know you’re here, and do not come out unless I call for you.” He curled a fist in the front of her shirt and thumped her chest sharply. “Tell me you understand every single word of my directions, and will follow them exactly. Exactly.”

“I understand.” He let her go. She rubbed at her chest, then crouched low and followed him into the front room. Martin un-slung his rifle and holstered his pistol, waiting until Naomi had done the same. Their eyes met and held. Then, he nodded, stood up and stepped out the front door, rifle held at his hip, Persephone slipping out behind him.

“I’d appreciate it if you fellows would take a few steps back from my dog. Strangers make him twitchy, and I’d hate for him to lose his temper.”

Naomi recognized the “good old boy” tone from the middle-of-the-night confrontation with – what had their names been? Didn’t matter. She slid along the wall, heart pounding, sighting in on the closest man. Their voices carried clearly through the broken front door.

“He’s not a stranger to me.” The man she had recognized did the talking. He and his wife had lived across the street and down a few houses. Their son had been just enough older than Piper that they hadn’t been regular playmates, though they’d run in the same neighborhood pack. She’d waved at him a thousand times. He walked their dog, rain or shine, every single day, a lab/greyhound mix named Spencer. She could remember his dog’s name; why couldn’t she remember his?

“I know him, or at least I think I do.” The man held out his hand, palm down. “Brutus. That’s a good boy. Come see me, Brutus.”

Naomi felt Hades’ mind explode with conflict. He shifted, whining, ears going forward and back. He’d been told to stay, to watch, but that name…he knew that name… He looked over his shoulder, and though he couldn’t see her in the shadows, his eyes locked onto Naomi.

She almost went to him; the need to reassure him was overwhelming. But for once, Martin’s instructions rang in her head, and she stayed where she was. She sent the big Rottweiler all the love she could muster, wave after wave of soothing, calming love. She felt him relax, just as she heard Martin speak again.

“Who are you, and what can I do for you?”

“We’re here to ask the same thing.” Spencer’s “dad” gestured to the house. “I knew the people that lived here. They’re gone, but they were good people. We understand the need to gather supplies and necessities for the living, but we’ve already been through this area so you won’t find much. And I’d ask you to keep the damage to a minimum. Out of respect.”

For long moments, Martin gazed at the men. Naomi could feel his concentration, the intensity of his scrutiny as he listened for the lie or untruth. Finally, he called over his shoulder without looking away from the men. “It’s all right to come out now.”

Ed. His name came to her as she stepped out the front door. She moved to stand beside Martin. “Hello, Ed – I’m so glad to see you’re alive.”

His mouth dropped open. “Piper?” He squinted. “Holy shit! Naomi!”

The men flanking him shot him disapproving glares, and his face reddened. “Please forgive my profanity,” he muttered. “Naomi, I just can’t believe it. I thought you were all gone for good. I know you lost Scott.” He nodded at the house. “But did your girls make it?”

Naomi felt Martin’s tension ease a fraction, and realized he had deliberately not used her name. He had wanted to see if the man would recognize her. She tried to answer Ed’s question, but her throat closed up. She looked down for a moment, swallowed, then looked up and spoke of what she could. “We’re on our way through, looking for our kids. Martin’s are in Limon,” she clarified, “And Piper was at school, up at UNC.” She snapped her fingers, and Hades rushed to her side, pressing close. “You said you know this dog?”

“I’m pretty sure. His owner and my son were friends. They lived just down the way, little family with a baby girl. They didn’t make it.” Ed paused for a moment, a heartbeat given to respect for the dead, then went on. “I’m pretty sure this is Brutus. We used to watch him when his owners went out of town for softball tournaments.” At the name, Hades’ ears shot forward again. “He and Spencer used to have a time, didn’t you, boy?”

Naomi dropped her hand to stroke the big dog’s blocky head. “I call him Hades now. We found each other.” She sent a summons with her mind, and Persephone streaked out from under the juniper shrubs, leaping into her arms. “You remember Persephone?”

Ed nodded, and tears filled his eyes, tears he didn’t try to hide. “I sure do – couldn’t forget a pretty little lady like her. It does my heart good, seeing you all. My Julie didn’t make it, nor our son.” He wiped at his eyes, then gestured to the men he was with. “We were on a supply run when we saw your horses and I recognized Bru… Hades.” He smiled, then nodded again at the house. “Did you find what you were looking for here?”

Naomi and Martin exchanged a glance. Martin answered. “More or less. We need to leave a message, in case Piper shows up here, then we’ll be on our way.” He paused, dark eyes sharp as he scrutinized the men. “What can you tell us about the city? Anything we should look out for?”

It was the men’s turn to exchange glances. Naomi felt Martin tense again. Finally, Ed looked back at them. “You could say. If you don’t have other plans, you’re welcome to stay the night with our group. There’s just over a hundred of us up around Bear Creek. We use the nature center as a community center, for gatherings and such.”

“Excuse us for a moment, would you?” Martin grasped Naomi’s arm, and turned her away from the group, though he kept his eyes on them. “My instincts say they’re on the up and up. Yours?” When she nodded, he did, too. “Let’s spend some time with them, then, find out what they know. Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

He jogged into the house, and Naomi turned back to Ed. “Do you know if anyone else from the neighborhood made it? By the time we left, it was deserted. I lost Scott in early April. Macy and I left after the army came through. She survived the plague, but…” She dug her nails into her palms, sick of being silenced by grief. Nestled in her arms, Persephone licked her chin in comfort and encouragement, and she went on even though her voice shook. “But she never really recovered, not completely. I lost her a few weeks later, in May.”

“Septicemia.” One of Ed’s companions spoke. “The same thing happened to my wife. At least that’s what Doc called it.”

“You have a doctor?”

“A dentist.” The man smiled. “And a whole bunch of medical textbooks. When Doc’s not patching somebody up, he’s reading.”

“We have a similar situation where we’re from.” Instinct made her refrain from revealing specifics. She knew Ed only in passing and nothing about this group he was with. She smiled, hoping they wouldn’t notice her omission and focused on Ed. “Why are you at Bear Creek, instead of here, at your home?”

Again, looks were exchanged. Finally, Ed answered. “Water, mostly.”

He didn’t add more, and a silence fell among them. Naomi felt an unmistakable pressure, the sensation of someone probing and pressing around her defenses. She looked up sharply, and the man on the far end smiled tightly. She stared him down, but it was Hades’ rumbling growl that made him drop his eyes, as well as the subtle invasion.

So, Naomi thought. They’ve changed, too. She would wait and see if that was a subject that could be broached. In the meantime, she wasn’t detecting a threat from these men, but they had secrets. She was sure of it.

Martin came back out the front door, carrying two cans of spray paint. He handed them to Naomi and took Persephone. “For the message to Piper. The garage door would work best, I think.”

Naomi stared at him blankly for a moment, then remembered the messages they’d seen, spray-painted on the sides of houses, or as Martin was suggesting, on garage doors: “Max, go to Grandma’s house,” or “Marian, if you get this, we’re with Lynn.” She cringed at the thought of defacing her home like that, then rolled her eyes at herself and started shaking the cans.

“Piper,” she spelled out in neon pink. Then, she hesitated, looking over her shoulder at Martin. He stepped closer and bent his head so she could speak quietly into his ear.

“Ed knew we had a cabin on Carrol Lakes, I think. Pretty much the whole neighborhood did,” she said. “If I say, ‘Go to the cabin,’ he may know what that means. Are we okay with that?”

Martin glanced at the men again, then shook his head. “No. Not yet.”

Naomi nodded, and went back to her task. “You know where to meet us,” she spelled out. “I love you. Mom.” She stepped back, cocked her head to the side, then shook the other can of paint. In under a minute, neon green vines and leaves swirled around her message, transforming the vandalism into a cheerful work of art. She met Martin’s amused gaze and shrugged. “Now she’ll know for sure it was me.”

The men had been talking quietly among themselves but broke apart when Naomi and Martin approached, leading the horses. Ed gestured at his companions. “They’re going on to finish the run. I’ll take you back to our group.”

“It was nice to meet you.” The man who’d been prodding at them spoke. “Maybe we’ll see you at the evening meal.” The other two men nodded in parting, and the three of them headed deeper into the neighborhood.

Ed led them back cross-lots, very close to the way they’d come. “Our sentries spotted you earlier today, so we knew you were in the area. We don’t draw attention to ourselves if we can help it. If travelers don’t bother us, we don’t bother them.”

“Do you see many people on the move? We didn’t see anyone on our way here, and we haven’t run across any other large groups.” Naomi looked at Martin, raised her eyebrows in question, and he nodded. “We came from Woodland Park, but we came on hiking trails. When I went through Manitou last spring, Highway 24 was pretty dangerous. We ran into trouble. So we avoided it this time around.”

“That was probably a good idea. We stay away from there, or anywhere the traffic stacked up. There are people all over I-25, from what we’ve heard, scavenging those vehicles.” He shrugged. “Makes sense, if you think about it. People packed up their valuables, or what they thought would be useful, then tried to leave. Better rate of return with the vehicles versus looting houses.”

He gave them a wry glance. “I managed investments, before. Guess I still think that way. Anyway, to answer your first question, no. We don’t see many travelers. Maybe we’ll see more, now that spring’s here, but I don’t know. Seems like people are hunkered down, just trying to survive.”

Martin spoke. “We heard there was a gang here, pretty violent group.” The air fairly crackled with his intensity as he watched Ed for a reaction. “Know anything about that?”

Ed stopped walking and returned Martin’s scrutiny for a long moment. Then, he shifted his gaze to Naomi, squinting, pondering. Whatever he saw satisfied him, because he started walking again, his battered hiking boots setting a swift pace. “You asked before, and I was glad you didn’t pursue it, at least not in front of Samuel. He was with that group, and whatever terrible things you’ve heard, the reality is worse.”

Ed walked on in silence for a few paces, then shook his head. “I will never understand, not if I live to be a hundred, the evils some folks are capable of. We’ve got quite a few people with us who slipped away from that group, and when they first started coming in with their stories, we thought they were making it up. But then Samuel came in. I actually knew him from the time before, which is rare these days. We went to the same church, which was how he ended up down this way. He and his family lived up in Briargate, on the north side. There were fires up there, he said, and they lost their home. Heard there was some kind of group in Memorial Park, so they went there.”

Ed fell silent again. The only sounds were the crunch of their boots and the muffled clop of the horses’ hooves. Then he sighed, a deep, sad sound. “They took his daughter. Raped her, until she was dead. He couldn’t do anything – they said they’d kill his son if he tried. She was fifteen. And he had to watch her die. He left, when he knew there was no hope. They’d moved on to another girl. It’s what they do. I’d appreciate it if you don’t ask about it in front of him – it breaks him. He’s not right in the head, not all the way.”

“Who is?” Naomi murmured. It took her a few seconds to realize Martin had stopped. When she turned, she couldn’t hold back a gasp. There wasn’t even a hint of color left in his face. “Martin? What is it? Are you hurt?”

His eyes were glassy when they met hers. His legs wobbled, and she rushed to his side, wrapping her arms around his waist. “Here, here, let’s get you down. Just sit right here and rest a minute.” She looked up at Ed. “My canteen, tied to my saddle – could you get it?”

Ed hurried to help, and Naomi crouched down, lifting Martin’s hat from his head and smoothing a hand over his forehead. He was clammy with sweat but didn’t seem to have a fever. He reached up and caught her wrist suddenly, squeezing so hard she yelped. A deep breath shuddered into him, and wheezed out. “Oh, no. No, no, please.”

He stared at her, blinking, as if coming out of a faint. “I don’t know what happened,” he rasped. He looked around, re-orienting himself. “I was walking along, listening to Ed, and all of a sudden I was gone. I could smell smoke, there was a bonfire. Men. They were laughing, and…” He shuddered. “I’m gonna be sick.”

He heaved and heaved. Naomi rubbed his back, murmuring, then wet a handkerchief with water from the canteen and handed it to him. He scrubbed it over his face, which was already warming back to its usual tan. His eyes, though, were hollow. He got to his feet, swayed, then leaned on Shakti and forced a smile at Ed. “Naomi’s been threatening to poison me. Maybe she finally made good on that.”

“Hmm.” Ed narrowed his eyes. “You folks are different, too. Changed.”

Naomi and Martin looked at each other. “Yes,” Naomi said. “You, too?”

“Not me.” The corner of Ed’s mouth kicked up. “My wife always said I couldn’t catch a hint with a butterfly net. She’d have changed, if she’d survived, I’m pretty sure. But lots of us are different. Psychic, some call it. Intuitive is what others say. We don’t really have a name for it yet.”

“Neither do we,” Naomi said. “It’s accepted, then, in your group? We can talk about it openly?”

Ed blew out a long breath. “Well, that could get tricky. There’s something you should know about our group before you’re in the middle of it.” He looked at Martin. “You okay to go on?”

Martin nodded. They started walking again, though at an easier pace, and Ed went on. “I’m a Johnny-come-lately to the group. I stayed in my home as long as I could, but water got to be an issue. I cleaned out all the bottled stuff for at least a mile around, collected rainwater, but we had a really dry fall. I remembered Bear Creek then. It’s amazing what you don’t know about the resources where you live, I’ll tell you what. I decided to check it out. I made three or four trips, hauling water home, before Isaiah made contact. He’s the leader of the people that have gathered there, and I guess you’d call him a visionary.”

Ed’s smile was just a touch sardonic. “He’s a very spiritual man, though he wasn’t in the time before, he claims. He says God told him we are the Chosen Ones of the New Age. His words – not mine. Anyway, he also claims that God gave him a vision of a new heaven on Earth.” Ed gestured ahead of them, at the rocky ridges and foothills. “And it starts right here.”

“So it’s a religious group?” Martin’s voice had returned to full strength. “A lot of rules?”

“Just one: Follow the teachings of the Bible. Old and New Testament.” He sighed again. “I was a religious man in the time before, and though God and I have a thing or two to sort out, I guess I am still. But bringing back ‘an eye for an eye’ doesn’t feel like the answer to me. I’ll be real honest with you both and say I get uncomfortable. Fanaticism is a slippery slope. It’s too easy to justify any action you want to take when you believe even your shit is sanctioned by God.” He grimaced. “Profanity is frowned upon, did I mention that? It’s been a trial.”

“Why do you stay?” Naomi asked.

Ed shrugged. “I don’t have anywhere else to go. I lost my whole family, at least the ones here in the Springs. No way to get in touch with my people in Texas. Like I said, I’m a Christian man, so I won’t take my own life, not that I haven’t prayed to God to do just that. I make the best of it, speak up when I can, try to keep my head down when it’s prudent. If it goes too far, though, I’ll go. Some already have.”

He reached to ruffle Hades’ ears, and they beamed at each other for a moment, doggy grin meeting weather-worn smile. “Maybe I’ll find myself a buddy and just head out for Texas. Spencer died a few years ago, and my wife didn’t want another. She had in mind we could travel, if we weren’t tied down. But I sure miss a dog around, I sure do.”

Martin spoke. “So should we admit that we’ve changed, as you say it, or not? What’s the story with that?”

Ed pursed his lips, considering. “I’d keep it on the down low.” His eyes twinkled. “My grandson used to say that. Sure miss him. I’m choosing to believe he’s alive and well in Texas. Anyway, Isaiah insists that all psychic or intuitive information has to pass through him before it’s shared or acted on. He says there are no clear examples in scripture where inward guidance alone was sufficient to know God’s will, and intuition can only be trusted if a person is aligned with God’s will.”

Martin’s voice was hard. “And he decides that. Who’s aligned.”

“Yep.”

Martin and Naomi exchanged a long look, and Naomi was certain he was thinking what she was: Maybe they should just move on, find somewhere else to camp for the night.

She smiled brightly at Ed. “If you change your mind about Texas, you’d be welcome in Woodland Park.” Martin shot a sharp glance at her, but she ignored it. “It’s a good community. One of our leaders used to be a youth pastor, but he doesn’t push his religion, and our other leader is a witch.”

Ed blinked. “Really? One of those Wiccans or some such? What do you know.”

They had reached the edge of the neighborhood overlooking the area surrounding the Bear Creek Nature Center. Ed paused, shading his eyes with his hand and scrutinizing the soaring rock ridges above. Naomi and Martin followed his gaze, watching as two bright red flags appeared on adjacent ridges, apparently run up far-away flagpoles. Ed took a mirror from his pocket, flashing a pattern of signals at first one flag, then the other. After a few moments, the flags descended. He waved, and on they went.

“Sentries,” he explained. “Red flag means someone’s moving into our territory. Yellow for people farther away. We signal when we’re coming in and they lower the flags, but people will be on the lookout just the same. Everybody watches for flags, even the little kids. We’ve got six sentries at all times, stationed at the high points and on the buildings along Lower Gold Camp road. You can see the downtown area real well from there, which is where the gang’s at. They don’t leave their territory except for raiding parties and patrols, but if they ever come in force, we’ll be ready.”

“You plan to fight back, if that happens?” Martin asked.

Ed shook his head. “No. We’ll hide. Back in the hills, in the woods. Isaiah insists on drills, even in the middle of the night sometimes. It sticks in my craw – I believe we should defend our homes – but from what I’ve heard, we’d be pretty mismatched.” He made a face. “Can’t turn an investment manager into a Ninja, no matter how many Chuck Norris movies he’s watched.”

He paused again, looking between the two of them. “I suppose there’s one last thing, before we’re caught up in the crowd. You two married?”

Naomi coughed, and cursed her easy blushes. “Ah. No. Why?”

“I’m sorry to embarrass you and it’s none of my business, but unmarried folks aren’t allowed to spend the night together. They’ve got dorms, so to speak, for the singles – houses, one for the men and one for the women. They’ll want to put you up in those. So if you want it to be different, you best decide now.”

Martin and Naomi exchanged another speaking look. His grin held just a hint of ferocity as he reached out to hook an arm around her neck, hauling her to his side. “Thanks for the heads-up, Ed. Mrs. Ramirez and I appreciate it.”

Naomi shoved at his side, but he wouldn’t budge. “Your last name is Ramirez? How did I not know that before?” She shoved again, harder this time. “And why should we pretend? What difference does it make?”

“We’re not going to be separated. Not in an unfamiliar place.” He let her go, but gave her an exaggerated wink – for Ed’s amusement, she was sure. “Don’t worry, honey, I’m not going to insist on my marital rights tonight. Pretty tired and all.”

“You’re hilarious.” She gave Ed a dry look. “Okay. So we’re Mr. and Mrs. Ramirez. Anything else we should know?”

“Just keep the cussin’ under your breath and do as the Romans do. I’ll stick close. You’ll be fine.”

They started to see more and more people the closer they got to the nature center. People would pause what they were doing, their eyes flickering back and forth between them and Ed, more curious than wary. Naomi returned a few friendly nods, constantly scanning, but she wasn’t picking up anything threatening. People here were engaged in the same tasks that had become work-a-day in Woodland Park: gardening, gathering fuel, hauling water. By the time they reached the front doors of the nature center, they were being trailed by a half dozen slightly grubby kids, all of whom had their eyes glued to the animals.

“Pets aren’t allowed,” Ed explained in a low voice. “They consume too many resources.” He raised his voice. “You kids leave these animals be, you hear? If you’re good, maybe this nice lady will introduce you later.”

They tethered the horses, Naomi put the dogs on a stay-and-watch, and they went inside. Ed introduced them as Martin and Naomi Ramirez, and they nodded and smiled their way around the room, Martin keeping his “good old boy” persona firmly in place.

Isaiah was a surprise to Naomi; she’d expected a fairly young man, long of hair and wild of eye, but the “visionary” was a slim, balding man with coke-bottle thick glasses. He took them off as he reached to shake their hands, and it wasn’t until his eyes met hers that she understood. She stifled a startled yelp, and Martin’s hand closed on her elbow, squeezing in warning. She slid a glance at him, and he shook his head slightly, waiting until they’d moved away to whisper low. “I felt it, too. He’s packing some punch, but I’m not sure what.”

They didn’t get a chance to talk about it, or anything else they learned or observed, until hours and hours later. There was a communal meal at the nature center every night. People were free to attend or not as they chose, but word of the visitors spread and the place was a madhouse. Everyone wanted to hear about their travels, and two people asked after family in Woodland Park, though the people they described weren’t familiar to either Martin or Naomi.

Through it all, Martin stayed in almost constant contact with Naomi – a hand on the small of her back or holding her elbow, an arm looped around her shoulders. He joked and laughed, more gregarious than she’d ever seen him, and after the fourth time he referred to her as “the little wifey,” she slid a hand to his side and dug her fingernails in just enough for him to feel it.

When he looked down at her, she batted her eyelashes and dug in a little harder. “You’re enjoying this way, way too much.”

His grin was slow and irresistible. “You have no idea.”

After the meal, Naomi supervised some visiting time between the kids and the animals while Martin made the rounds with Ed, gathering information. He was vibrating with excitement when he rejoined her. “They’ve got a couple of Zero Motorcycles – electric, totally silent. They use a generator to keep them charged up for emergencies. Isaiah has given us permission to use one, as long as we take one of their men with us. Ed has already volunteered. We can get a look at the gang tonight, in the dark, try to get an idea of what we’re up against, maybe start to get an idea of their numbers.”

Naomi gazed at him and swallowed hard. “What about the animals?”

“They can stay here. There’s a woman here who used to keep horses. She can’t wait to get her hands on them. And the dogs should be fine.”

“Okay.” Her throat clicked audibly as she swallowed again. “Okay. I can do this.”

Martin put his hands on her shoulders and squeezed, what she was finally coming to recognize as his version of a hug. “I know you don’t want to do this, but if we’re careful, there should be very little danger. They don’t post a night watch, from what everybody says. Typical street gang – relying on their rep to do half their dirty work.” He squeezed again. “I’m not leaving you alone here. I don’t distrust them, but I don’t trust them either. We stay together.”

The plan was to rest until just after midnight, then take off on the bikes. Martin and Naomi were given a tiny bedroom in a charming little log home, and even though it was twice the size of the tent they’d been sharing, Naomi felt painfully awkward as soon as the door shut behind them. Martin nudged her in the ribs as he edged past her, dropping their saddlebags on the bed. “Relax, Mrs. Allen. You’re safe.”

“How did you know my last name was ‘Allen?’”

“It was on your mailbox at the house.” He sat down and pulled his boots off, groaning as he reclined against the pillows. He patted the bed beside him, speaking through a giant yawn. “C’mon, my little wifey. We really do need to rest, even if we can’t sleep.”

Naomi lay down beside him and stared at the ceiling, mind whirling like a dervish. “I’ve been thinking, and we should take Persephone. Her senses can tell us a lot, through me.”

“That’s a good idea. The big guy won’t like it,” he yawned again, and stretched, settling deeper into the pillows. “But he’ll have to lump it. What do you think the story is with that Isaiah? I couldn’t get a read on him. Guy’s shut up tight.”

“I don’t know – it wasn’t until I met his eyes that I felt it. Sort of like a combination of Jack and Layla, now that I think about it. And something else. Something that could be…dark.”

“I know what you mean. He’s not there yet, but it could go either way.”

Silence fell between them, a total silence unbroken by the house sounds Naomi was used to – the hum of a refrigerator, or the rumble of a furnace. She missed outdoor sounds, as well as the feeling of nearby life, and she desperately missed Hades and Persephone. They were staying with the horses in a nearby make-shift stable, and though Naomi could reach out to all of the animals whenever she wanted to be sure that all was well, she missed the warm, solid pressure of Hades curled against her side.

“I miss Persephone.”

Naomi grinned in the growing dark, and turned her head on the pillow to look at him. “I was just wishing for Hades.”

Martin was gazing at her, his forehead set in pensive lines. He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to say that, from earlier. At the school.”

Naomi frowned. “Why say it now?”

“I understand some things better now. I saw where you lived, what a perfect family you had. You had a beautiful life, with all your pretty things and everything just so. I could see that, even though your house was trashed. I guess it made me realize how much harder it must be for you than for the rest of us to adapt. You know. To the way things are now.”

Naomi propped herself up on an elbow, looking at him with narrowed eyes. “I feel like I should be insulted but I can’t put my finger on why. Everything you say is true. It was a beautiful life, and I loved it.” She let her eyes go unfocused, thinking. “It was a sheltered life. Scott kept me safe, and he handled most of the unpleasant stuff, I see that now. He was the one that was prepared for this life, and it’s only because of him that we made it. I never wanted to be involved in his prepper stuff – I didn’t want to think about it. I never dreamed things could go this wrong.”

She settled back against the pillows, sighing. “If I could have, I would have just stayed hidden, there at the house with Macy. I’d be holed up at the cabin now, if not for Piper. I’m not here because I’m brave. I’m here because I have to be here.”

“That’s what people never get about bravery. In combat, I saw grown men become infants. They literally fell down on the ground, curled up and started to cry. And I’ve seen those exact same men run through heavy fire to rescue another Marine, or cover their unit’s retreat even though they’re wounded. Bravery isn’t something that you have. It’s a choice you make, every day, to get the job done.”

Again, silence fell between them. After a while, Martin reached out and picked up Naomi’s hand, lacing his fingers through hers. “I was afraid to show you compassion today, because I thought you might fold. You were right on the edge of it. I didn’t want you to decide to go back. I know it’s selfish of me, I know it would make perfect sense for you to wait for Piper at the cabin, but I’m glad you’re here. I can’t think of anyone else I’d want watching my back.”

Well. When this man came up with praise, he sure did it right. In the dark, Naomi’s cheeks pinked with pleasure. “I’d say ‘Glad to be here,’ but we both know that’s not true. I’ll do my best to keep doing my part.”

“My wife committed suicide.”

It took a moment for the low, strangled words to sink in. Then, she squeezed his hand. “I figured. I’m so sorry. That must have hurt you so much.”

“Losing Michael wrecked her. I wanted to die, too, when he did. I get it, now, when people say it hurts to breathe – it really does. But I had Gracie and Benji to live for. And her.” His hand was kneading hers, almost to the point of pain, but she didn’t think he even knew it. “She quit. We were supposed to be partners, to help each other, and she just quit. I know I have to forgive her, but how do I do that?”

If there was an answer to that question, Naomi didn’t know what it was. So she just held his hand, letting her presence speak her comfort. They dozed like that for hours, until a soft knock at the door roused them both. Their host, a soft-spoken middle-aged woman, stuck her head in the door. “Ed’s here. He says it’s time to get ready to go.”

They laced boots and donned warm jackets in silence, arming themselves with only their pistols. The rifles wouldn’t be much use at night, and if this went wrong, wouldn’t help them much anyway. Naomi’s heart was beating so hard, her hands shook with it. The dogs were both awake when she went to retrieve Persephone from the stable, and Martin was right: Hades was emphatically not happy to be left behind. Naomi crouched down, holding his head in her hands and gazing into his sad eyes. “I love you, my beautiful boy. You need to stay. Stay and guard the horses. We’ll be back soon, I promise.”

His whine was so piteous as she walked away, she turned around to reinforce the stay and guard commands with a stern, mental imperative. He settled down onto his belly, grumbling and grousing, but she was sure he would obey her. Martin and Ed were waiting with the motorcycles; seeing them, her nerves ratcheted up another notch.

“Another first,” she muttered, handing Persephone to Martin. “Is this different than the ATV?”

“More lean on the corners, but we’re not planning on speed,” he tucked Persephone into his jacket, then mounted the bike. “And they’re not built for two, so snuggle up, sweetie-pie.”

Naomi slid on behind him, stabilized Persephone, and they were off. She closed her eyes; they probably weren’t even going 15 mph, but at night, with nothing but light from the almost-full moon to navigate by, it felt like warp speed. They slid through neighborhoods and across open spaces, taking the route Ed and Martin had planned out earlier. First to the south, to cross I-25 where the interstate arced over Tejon and Nevada, the only route Isaiah’s group knew to be relatively safe. From there, they headed due north, weaving through silent neighborhoods.

Naomi kept her senses locked on Persephone, and long before they neared the gang’s stronghold, her stomach was rolling. They stopped on the outskirts of the downtown area, and Martin looked back at her. “Anything to report?”

“Too many people, terrible living conditions. A lot of human waste. Fire. Big, from the amount of smoke.” She hesitated, concentrating. “Alcohol. Blood.”

Martin squeezed her hand and Persephone in the same motion, a mini hug. “Anything else, before we head in?”

“Fear.” She gazed into his eyes, which were black in the moonlight. “So much fear. I’ve never felt anything like it.” Her voice shook. “Persephone thinks we should go home and pop popcorn instead.”

“We’ve got this, honey.” He pressed back against her for a moment. “We sneak a peek, then we head home, most riki tik.”

“Whatever you just said. Let’s just get it over with.”

They parked the bikes between buildings on Boulder Crescent and slipped into Monument Valley Park at the south end, walking north along the creek, letting the noise of the water cover the sounds of their passage. As they approached the blaze of light, Martin put his mouth near Naomi’s ear.

“Don’t look at the lights,” he said, his voice more vibration than sound. “You don’t need to see what’s happening, and it’ll preserve your night vision. If we have to get out fast, you’re leading the way.”

Naomi nodded, and felt a fraction of her fear ease. More than anything, she’d been terrified of seeing things she could never forget. It took just under half an hour to creep to their destination, a clump of trees bordering the tennis courts just to the southwest of Washburn field. Naomi’s heart was pounding so hard and fast, it was vibrating Persephone, who was quivering inside her coat.

My God, they were so close, so close. Her legs were shaking with the need to run. Rock music blasted under the sounds of hundreds of people, and it was so hard not to cover her ears. Augmented by Persephone’s senses, she could separate out other sounds from the cacophony: screams, shrieks, cries of pain. “It’ll be over soon.” She mouthed the words without sound, but it comforted both her and Persephone. “Soon. Soon.”

Martin turned her so she faced due west, speaking directly into her ear. “Watch our backs. Do not turn around. Nod if you understand me.”

She nodded, and he turned, pressing his back to hers as he and Ed watched through the binoculars they carried. Naomi closed her eyes for a moment, reaching for calm concentration, and finding it. She opened her eyes again, watching and feeling, keeping them safe. Persephone’s night vision was so much better than hers, the moonlight slipping through the sparse spring leaves looked more like weak sunlight. A steady wind from the west pressed the tops of the trees rhythmically and had the added benefit of directing the disturbing scents from behind them away. Naomi focused on the shifting shadows, watching for movement that shouldn’t be, feeling her racing heart slow a bit.

Until the smell hit her. A corpse. Garlic. Pepper. What the hell? A low whine quivered out of Persephone; through the combined perception that enhanced Naomi’s senses, the little dog’s instinct to run nearly overwhelmed her. She squinted, eyes darting, ears straining, nostrils wide open. Then, a rustle that shouldn’t have been, a shadow that shouldn’t have moved. Her pistol was in her hand, rock steady, but her voice wobbled like a sob.

“Martin. There’s someone here. Right here.”

Martin spun, and tucked his arm alongside hers, pistol sighting where hers was. “I can’t see,” he whispered. “How many?”

“Just one.” She strained, feeling with all her ability. “Yes, just one.”

Then, a shadow separated from a tree ten yards in front of them, and a tiny voice said, “Daddy?”