In the chill, half-light before dawn, Piper and Ed huddled over a series of maps with Brian Weaver and a woman named Claire Valente, the leader of the group of survivors from the eastern states. Piper and her companions had been in Limon for three days, longer than they’d originally planned. Weather had delayed them, a series of fast-moving thunderstorms that had battered the area with wind and marble-sized hail. A rising barometer and clear skies this morning were signals to be on their way, and Piper found herself both eager to hit the road and reluctant to leave. These were good people, and even though she had spent every minute she could either interviewing people or writing down what she had learned, she still felt like there was so much information left to gather, especially from Claire’s group.
Claire reached out and tapped the city of Grand Island, Nebraska. “Too big,” she murmured. She had offered to share her advice and experience, both hard-earned on her nearly 1,500 mile journey here. “Swing to the north, west of Kearney, I think. You won’t want to linger near interstates or major highways, or anywhere else traffic stacked up. Hustle through and don’t look back, especially if you see a pile of supplies, like canned food or bottled water, just conveniently waiting to be picked up.” Her mouth flattened into a grim line. “We lost two people learning that one.”
For lack of a better plan, Piper had simply drawn an “as the crow flies” line on the pertinent maps between where they were and where they wanted to go. Loaded with gear as they were, with varying levels of riding experience and endurance among them, they might average 40 miles an hour, sometimes a little less. If they rode for six or seven hours a day, with no major detours or problems, they could make Pewaukee in five, maybe six days.
Ed was examining one of the maps Brian had supplied – different maps, they had discovered, could contain completely different information – and he made a noise of concern. “Piper, look at this.” He, too, pointed. “The Prairie State Wolf Wildlife Management Area. Your plan has us going right through there tomorrow.” He straightened and looked at her, eyebrows raised. “Do you suppose there are still wolves there?”
“What I wouldn’t give for a Google search right about now,” Piper muttered. She looked where Ed was pointing, then traced an alternate route with her finger. “I suppose we could swing even farther to the north…”
“Probably not worth the detour,” Claire offered. “It’s likely the wolves died in their enclosures soon after the plague went through. Ryan, one of the men traveling with us, lived near the zoo in Columbus, Ohio. Before he left, he said the elephants had made it out, and some of the primates, but he heard all the big predators starved. Too well contained. Even if the wolves escaped, there’s no way to know if they’re still in the area.”
Piper swallowed hard, thinking of the animals she had grown up visiting in the Cheyenne Mountain Zoo. Had the pride of lions starved? What about that huge giraffe herd? What had happened to them? “Poor things,” she murmured. “I’d rather they’d made it out, even if we did have to watch out for lions and tigers from now on. But I see your point. If I’m remembering my National Geographic channel right, wolves can have a range of hundreds of miles. They could be anywhere.”
“There’s no way to predict, and in my opinion, no need to alter your course because of it. We started out trying to avoid things like prison areas and such, and it didn’t do us any good. We ran into our biggest problems in good old suburbia, U.S.A. The inner cities are safer, where there were businesses and high rise apartments before. People don’t tend to live there now. No water, no place to grow food. If you can’t avoid going through a major city, go right through the business district rather than the suburbs. Avoid big parks and natural recreational areas, especially if they include a water source, like a lake or river. Those seem to be magnets for people.”
“There’s so much to think about.” Piper looked up at Claire and blew out a nervous breath. “Don’t suppose you’re up for another adventure? We could sure use your experience, and I wouldn’t mind having another girl to share bathroom breaks with.”
Claire smiled, but shook her head. “I’m all adventured out, I’m afraid. Most of my people are.” She sobered and met Piper’s eyes. “I wish you all weren’t so set on going. It’s terrible out there.” She dropped her voice lower, enclosing them in a girls’ only bubble. “Especially for women. Do not get separated from your group, you hear me? And don’t think twice about stepping behind that giant, Owen. Gender equality is fantastic and all, but you’ve got to be alive and free to appreciate it. It’s a damn shame what we’ve degenerated into.”
Piper reached to rest her hand on Claire’s forearm. She liked this practical, intelligent, determined woman. “I’ve already made it through some of the terrible, and it’s worse than shameful. When all this settles down, you and I will have to knock some heads together.” She started folding up the maps. “I guess we’ll just have to work each problem as it shows up. There’s no way to know where trouble will come from.”
“That’s mostly true. You can be pretty sure trouble will come from people, so avoid ‘em. All things considered, I’d rather run into wolves. At least they’re straightforward about their intentions. People are tricky and deceptive. They lie and justify, especially to themselves. Even with the new intuitive skills so many people have, it can be hard to assess the situation. You’ll figure out how to think it all through and choose the best option.” She looked grim again. “You’ll also screw up, and learn the hard way. I just hope it doesn’t cost you people, like it did us. You don’t have as many to spare.”
Ed whistled, calling Rosemary to his side. “Well, it seems like we’re as ready as we’ll ever be. Brian.” He held out his hand, and the two men shook vigorously. “It’s been a pleasure. If I’m ever back this way, my best girl and I would be happy to stay a while.” He nodded with old-school politeness to Claire. “Thank you, for all your help.”
“Go with God, Ed.” She bent down and ruffled Rosemary’s ears, then sketched the sign of the cross on the dog’s forehead with her thumb. “You too, sweet girl. Stay safe. Gotta get me a dog now, thanks to you.”
Ed headed for the motorcycles where Jack and Owen were completing preparations to leave. Bernice was with them, a shawl clutched around her thin shoulders against the early-morning chill. Murmuring her thanks, Piper hugged Claire, then stuck her hand out to Brian. He shook it, grinning at her.
“Now, Piper, don’t embarrass yourself. I know how badly you want me to come along, but I’m needed here. Duty before beauty.”
Piper grinned back. They had reached an understanding over the last several days, and she had grown to appreciate this charismatic man’s combination of self-effacing humor and sensitivity. She schooled her face into sober lines, playing it straight as they walked together towards the bikes. “I have a confession to make.” She paused, then went on solemnly. “If you were the absolute last man on Earth, I might maybe possibly think about giving you a chance.”
His grin deepened into ridiculously attractive dimples, and he laughed. “No, don’t beg. It’s beneath you.”
They were both laughing when they joined the others at the motorcycles. Jack looked up, his gaze flickering between them. He straightened, his face taking on the neutral expression Piper had come to think of as “shields up.” Even his bond-lines dimmed when he did this. He held a hand out to Brian.
“Thank you for all you’ve done, your hospitality and your information.”
Brian shook his hand. “You’re more than welcome.” He nodded to the guitar slung across Jack’s back. “I see you and Traci worked out a trade?”
Jack self-consciously adjusted the strap. “Well, sort of. She wouldn’t take anything for it – insisted on giving it as a gift, but I had to swear to stop in and visit if we come back through.” He shot an embarrassed glance at Bernice when she cackled out a laugh, and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, she’s got a crush, I’m afraid. It weirds me out.”
“She’s nearly 19,” Bernice pointed out, “And she doesn’t like her options here.” Then, she winked. “Plus you’re the closest thing to a rock star she’s seen in over a year.”
Her words sent sniggers around the group, and Piper elbowed Owen. “Our very own one-man boy band. We are going to have some fun with this, you mark my words.”
Jack smiled and shook his head good-naturedly, and looked at Brian again. “Please carry our love to our people.”
“I’m looking forward to meeting them.” Then, to Piper. “I’ve got the copy of your notes, safe and sound, ready to deliver to Anne and Grace when I go.”
Bernice had suggested sending a copy of the information Piper had gathered back to the Woodland Park community, and Piper had readily agreed. Several people had helped with the transcription, and one of the older men in Limon had kept a copy for himself, expressing interest in expanding and adding to the project himself. In her notes, Piper had included information on the route they’d taken, identifying where they’d seen signs of habitation, where the road had been damaged, and where they’d sensed danger. She had also enclosed a personal note for her mother that read simply: “I got your message. And you used to say I got my stubbornness from Dad! I love you, too.” She had signed her name, then thought to add a postscript: “Loki says ‘Hi.’ Totally creepy, Mom.”
Piper inclined her head in thanks as she got on her bike. “I appreciate it. Let them know we’re all safe and sound.”
“Will do.”
Owen reached to shake Brian’s hand, and Piper took one last look over her shoulder. Pikes Peak was pink with the dawn, and she let her eyes linger on the familiar outline. Before the day was out, the mountains would be lost to view. Piper pressed a hand over her heart, where the bond-line connecting her to her mother was a steady, solid green. She sent love along that link, and the immediate, tender echo back made tears sting her eyes even as she smiled.
Jack was watching her when she turned her eyes away from home, his face warm with compassion. “Your mom?”
Piper nodded, not really trusting her voice, and he pressed a hand over his heart as well. He’d comforted her this way before, a show of sympathy, but this time was different. This time, the bond-line between them didn’t crackle so much as warm and pulse, like a heartbeat. Sudden heat flushed up Piper’s chest to her neck and cheeks, startling her. Jack, too, looked startled, and dropped his hand. For the first time since she’d met him, their eyes held just a few seconds too long. Then Jack looked down and started his motorcycle. “Let’s get going.”
They were off, roaring into the rising sun. From Limon, they zig-zagged to the north-east, following a route Piper had loosely plotted in her head. As agreed, she took the lead, though she checked in with the others often. They flew by tiny plains towns and deserted grain elevators, traveling under a sky so vast, it felt like they were standing still. Herds of antelope startled and fled from the sound of their motorcycles, and several times, they saw groups of placidly chewing cattle who ignored the humans and their noise. Here and there, an abandoned vehicle stood in silent testament to the changes in the world, but, otherwise, traveling across the plains was much as it had been before.
As morning climbed past noon, clouds built in the west, obscuring the mountains and stirring the prairie grass with swirls of wind. By the time they stopped for a break just before they crossed the Kansas state line, it was looking like they might not make it through the day without more rain. Piper stretched out muscles unaccustomed to riding, then jogged to the top of a nearby hill. Owen was already there, eyes crinkling at the corners as he scanned the western horizon. He wasn’t as accurate as Jose back in Woodland Park, but his weather sense was the best among them.
“What do you think?” Piper asked. “Should we find shelter, or put on rain gear and tough it out?”
Owen scanned the horizon once more, then shrugged. “I think we should keep going. It seems to be slower moving than the storms we’ve been seeing, and it feels like it’ll swing south.”
“Feels like?”
He nodded. Piper examined his profile, and then glanced over her shoulder. Jack was rummaging in the bags on his bike, and Ed had disappeared from view. Rosemary was sitting patiently beside Ed’s bike, so he’d probably stepped away to empty his “old man’s bladder,” as he liked to grouse. Piper looked back at Owen. No time like the present.
“You’ve never said, and if I’m prying, please say so. But have you changed?”
Owen glanced at her, then returned his eyes to the horizon. Again, he shrugged. “No, not really. I guess I’m kind of like Verity. I’ve always been different.” He smiled a little, an expression of fond remembrance. “I’m just not as flamboyant about it as she is.”
“What do you mean? You see the dead?”
“No.” He looked down at the ground now, as if uncomfortable talking about this, but he did keep talking. “I feel what’s coming. I have all my life. My grandma always used to say I had ‘the Sight,’ that it was a ‘gift.’ The first time it happened was 9-11, and ever since, I’ve known that something was going to happen a few days before every major terrorist attack or natural disaster.”
Piper was quiet for a minute, thinking about the implications. “But you don’t know what’s going to happen, or where?”
“No.”
“What about the plague?”
Owen’s jaw tightened. “Just like with all the rest, I knew something was going to happen, but not what. If I’d known that, I’d have taken my family somewhere safe, or at least away from other people.” He looked at her, and a series of emotions struggled for control of his features. Guilt, anger, grief, remorse, more guilt. “And no, I didn’t know they would die. I didn’t know about Layla and the baby, either. I don’t get warnings about stuff I could actually do something about.”
“Oh, Owen.” Piper reached out and slipped her hand into his big, warm, callused one. “I hope you’re not offended, but I think your ‘gift’ sucks.”
He laughed a little, as she had hoped he would. “So do I. As far as I can tell, it’s worthless.”
“You’ve never gotten information on a horse race or the Super Bowl or something? So you could place a bet?”
“Nah. I have been able to share information now and then, information that helped people.” He nodded towards Jack, who was busily duct-taping a plastic tarp around his guitar. “We’ll find Jack’s sister. I know that.”
Piper opened her mouth to ask if they’d all make it safely home again, then shut it. He’d share, if he knew. She squeezed his hand, then let it go. “I appreciate you telling me.” Then she turned and headed down the hill. “And you may be able to sense the future, but I’m putting on my frog togs just the same. I don’t think that storm’s headed south, and I hate being wet and cold.”
Owen laughed as he followed her down the hill, and they all shared a quick lunch. She caught Jack scrutinizing her and Owen a few times, but his eyes slid away every time hers swung his way. There was an odd new tension between them, something she hoped would just dissipate without a discussion. They rode on through the afternoon, stopping once to siphon and purify fuel from a cluster of abandoned vehicles, then rode on into the early evening. Finally, they stopped just outside of Cambridge, Nebraska, on what the map told them was Medicine Creek.
Owen’s prediction had held; the storm had indeed swung to the south. The evening was beautiful, the light soft and pearly, with just enough of a breeze to keep the mosquitoes at bay. They set the tents up on a rise above the creek amid softly rustling cottonwoods, and Jack scrambled together some of the fresh eggs and vegetables they’d brought with them from Limon. After dinner, both Ed and Owen stretched out on their sleeping bags for a nap. Jack busied himself with the clean-up, while Piper took Rosemary with her for a walk along the streambank.
After the long day on the bikes, walking felt wonderful, though she could feel the pull of exhaustion in her shoulders and back. Hopefully, she’d sleep soundly tonight. They hadn’t seen a single sign of life all day, no people, no smoke, nothing. The sensation of being alone in the world was deeply disturbing and brought with it an unease that Piper would bet originated in her brainstem. Like most primates, people functioned best when they were part of a social group. Humans weren’t meant to be solitary.
Rosemary ranged far and wide as they walked, splashing in and out of the creek, giving a yip of excitement when she flushed some prairie chickens into flight. She seemed completely at ease until they rounded a bend in the creek where the cottonwoods opened up and gave way to prairie. A house sat on a hill amidst what had once been cultivated fields. The windows had been broken at some point, and dingy white curtains wafted in and out like ghosts.
Piper stopped walking, and Rosemary slid to her side, pressing against her leg as they stood together, looking. On the garage door, the words “God’s Judgement” had been spray-painted in big, sloppy, black letters. Rosemary’s ears were perked to full alert, her nose twitching as she analyzed the swirling wind for information. After a moment, her ears flattened, and a soft growl rumbled in her chest.
“Well, that’s pretty much all I need to know.” Piper did an about-face, and they headed back the way they’d come. She didn’t know if Rosemary’s agitation rose from the presence of the dead or the living, but even from where they’d stood, the combination of rage and despair that permeated the house was palpable. She hadn’t seen or sensed anything which suggested they should abandon their campsite, but she’d be sure the others understood setting a watch wasn’t merely a formality. She let her hand trail to Rosemary’s head.
“You keep those ears awake tonight, okay? And your nose, while you’re at it.”
She returned to camp to find Owen and Ed still sleeping. Jack had settled down by the fire, leaning against his rolled-up sleeping bag, just staring into the low flames. He looked up at them and blinked owlishly. “I can’t believe how tired I am. We basically just sat all day.”
“A low-grade adrenalin crash, maybe. We’ve all been tense for hours, on the lookout, ready for anything.” Piper sat down across the fire from him. “A walk might refresh you. If you decide to go, there’s a house to the north that bothered Rosemary. Looked abandoned, but we didn’t get close enough to confirm that.”
“No bond-lines?”
“No, but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. A person alone might not have them. Or they might be able to suppress them, like you do.”
Jack blinked again, looking surprised and a little more awake. “I can suppress mine?”
Piper shrugged. “You dim them, whenever you do that ‘shields up’ thing. Your face turns into a mask, like a poker face, when you don’t want people to know what you’re thinking. Your bond-lines get fainter when you do that.” Her face warmed; it sounded like she’d been watching him, analyzing him. It came as a little shock to realize that she had been. She cleared her throat. “Anyway, we should all stay plenty alert on watch tonight. I’m glad Owen and Ed are getting some sleep now.”
“Hmm.” Jack made an affirmative sound. He paused, and she felt him make the decision to tackle the awkwardness between them. “It looked like you and Owen were sharing a moment earlier.” Another pause. “Is something happening between the two of you?”
He was using The Voice on her again. It was subtle, just a smooth thread of soothe and calm, but Piper sensed it nonetheless. She felt a surge of annoyance. “If by ‘something’ you mean a friendship, then yes. Would it be a problem if it were something more? And stop with the voice thing. It’s doing the opposite of what you intended.”
“Okay.” Jack didn’t flinch at her irritable tone, but she could feel his internal debate over whether to be honest or evasive. Honesty won…sort of. “As for you and Owen, I think it would complicate things. He isn’t over Layla’s death yet.”
Piper narrowed her eyes at him. Did he really think he could hide the fact that he was only telling part of the truth? “And?”
Now, he looked away. “Aren’t those good reasons to avoid an entanglement, at least for now?”
She’d show him how this “honesty” thing was done. “Jack, the last thing I have on my mind these days is hooking up with someone. I’ve got some shit of my own to sort out, in case you hadn’t noticed. But all that aside, you’re not my big brother, and it’s none of your business what I do.”
He was quiet for a few moments. Then, he sighed, and gave her a peace-offering smile. “You’re about Cara’s age. So though I could be your big brother, I thank the good Lord I’m not. I’d have spent all my time breaking up the neighborhood brawls you started.”
Piper held on to her disgruntlement for a moment, then let it go and laughed. “That Ed. He’s been telling tales, I see. So you think riding herd on the neighborhood hot-head would have been worse than living with a fledgling Verity?”
Jack made a comical face. “Geez, when you put it that way…” His face grew serious. “We had no idea what was really happening with Cara – not my parents, and not me. I let her down so badly, Piper. Sometimes, it eats me alive, the need to tell her that. She was my baby sister, and it was my job to look out for her.”
Piper looked down, thinking of Macy, missing her sweet smile so much her chest felt caved-in, hollow. “It was my job to look out for mine, too. Didn’t work out great for either one of us, did it?” She sighed. “Well, Verity would spout some mumbo-jumbo about the Path and all that. And she’d be right. We can’t go back and change things. We can only go forward.”
Jack shook his head. “I can’t tell you how hard it was for me to accept that Verity was always right. And I mean ‘always’ literally. I wanted to dismiss her as a nut-job, but God’s hand is on her head. Now that I’ve seen what that can mean, I do not envy her.”
“She’s spent most of her life isolated by it,” Piper said, remembering her earlier thoughts. “Walking with angels is one thing, but didn’t your God create an Adam and an Eve, together? Humans are meant to be connected, one to another. The bond-lines that I see – I feel like I barely understand them, but I can feel how ancient they are, and how massive, too. There’s so much more beyond what I can see.”
Her eyes went unfocused, and she groped for words to express what she was just barely beginning to grasp. “We’re all one. When one of us suffers, we all suffer. When we love, when we lift each other up, we are all lifted. It sounds so simplistic, but it’s the most profound truth I’ve ever realized. I wish I had better words to describe it.”
Jack smiled. “It’s a lot like the Golden Rule. Do unto others as you would have done unto you.” He tilted his chin at her backpack, which was resting beside her. “Simple or not, you should write that down in your notes.” Then, he stood, and whistled for Rosemary. “I think I’ll take that walk you recommended.”
He headed south along the creek with Rosemary trotting right beside him. Piper pulled out her notes as he’d suggested but ended up just staring at the fire. Now that the moment was gone, she felt self-conscious about writing something down that seemed so un-scientific and un-supportable. What evidence did she have, other than what she’d observed when she had ended Josh’s life? His complete separation from the group had been terrible to see, her bullet a mercy, releasing him from his aloneness. Piper contemplated that thought for a moment, trying to decide if she was justifying or if she was brushing another layer of truth about the bond-lines. She also wondered how Jack would respond, if she told him the truth about the event her theory arose from.
On the rise, Ed stirred, stretching on his sleeping bag and yawning. He sat up, obviously looking around for Rosemary.
“She went for a walk with Jack,” Piper called.
Ed nodded, then disappeared into his tent, emerging a moment later with a small duffel bag. He lifted his hand to Piper as he headed for the creek. “I’m going to go take a bath, get freshened up for the mosquitoes.” He pointed his finger at her. “You keep clear, you hear? What’s been seen can’t be unseen.”
Piper laughed and waved him off. A few minutes later, Owen followed suit, yawning and stretching, then following Ed down to the river. Piper added a few small pieces of wood to the fire and sighed deeply, feeling relaxed and content. A soft rustle and a croak in a nearby cottonwood made her smile before she even spotted the big raven.
Loki was gazing down at her when she tilted her head back. His black eyes sparkled with uncanny intelligence and curiosity. He ruffled his glossy feathers and shifted on his branch, as if presenting his best side. He croaked again, cocked his head, then let out a low, throaty rattle.
“You again. What I wouldn’t give to understand how she does this.” Piper shook her head and laughed softly, taking a moment to warm the bond-line between her heart and her mother’s. As before, the answer back was immediate and enthusiastic. She grinned at Loki. “Do you have any idea how awful this would have been during high school? Man, I dodged a bullet there.”
Rosemary chose that moment to rush back into the clearing, startling Loki into flight. A few seconds later, Jack followed, his eyes fixed on the raven’s retreat to a cottonwood across the creek. He turned to Piper. “Is that who I think it is?”
“Yep.”
Jack laughed in delight. “How totally cool is that?”
“Easy for you to say. You’re not the one with a living nanny-cam reporting your every move.” But she grinned back. “It is pretty damn cool. Do you suppose he flies all the way back home and reports to her? It’s been a few days since we saw him. He probably could have made it there and back to us.”
Jack shrugged. “Who can say? Maybe he just gives her the information telepathically. Or maybe she can sense through his senses, like she does with the dogs. What I really wonder is how he knows where you are. I’m pretty sure he didn’t follow us from Limon. Does he have some kind of homing instinct that’s fixed on you?” He laughed again. “And you should see the look on your face.”
Piper shuddered. “I’m trying not to let this freak me out completely, okay? How does he know where I am?” She got up and put her notes away. “This is just too creepy.”
Ed and Owen returned, and Piper headed down to the creek to hustle through a chilly wash. Owen had already gone to bed when she returned, and the sun was nearing the horizon. Jack jogged towards the creek with Rosemary on his heels. Ed was sitting with his back to the fire, his shotgun across his lap, sipping a cup of what her nose told her was some of Verity’s herbal tea. He held the mug up thoughtfully.
“I can’t even imagine the price a cup of real coffee would demand these days. I’d trade everything I own – except for Rosemary – for just one cup.”
Piper smiled. “I know a lot of people who feel the same way. Maybe we should think about cultivating it, if it’ll grow in Colorado.” Then she grew serious. “Did Jack tell you about the house downstream, how Rosemary didn’t like it?”
“He did. I’ll have my eyes peeled, don’t you worry.” He sighed. “It was lonely out there today, but I was glad we didn’t see anyone. I’ve never been afraid to meet strangers, but I sure feel that way now.”
Piper just rested her hand on his shoulder for a moment. What could she say that offered reassurance or comfort? She felt the same way. She headed for her tent, eager now for the warmth and softness of her sleeping bag. They’d opted for single-person hiking tents, and as long as she focused on the mesh beside her face and not the proximity of the domed nylon roof over her head, it didn’t feel too much like a coffin. From a few feet away, she could hear the rumble of Owen’s soft snores, and she fell asleep between one breath and the next.
She slept deeply until Owen woke her for her watch shift at 2:00 am. Keeping her eyes turned away from the fire, she, too, set a cup of tea to steep. Then she stepped carefully around the perimeter of their camp, pausing to listen every few feet, rifle cradled in the crook of her arm. She walked to a spot clear of the cottonwoods and surveyed the nighttime prairie. The stars were a breathtaking canopy overhead, and the moon was fuller than it had been on the way to Limon.
“Waxing gibbous,” she murmured, remembering the old elementary school lessons. The constellations she’d been teaching herself during her time with Brody came back, and she located the summer triangle, the stars Deneb, Vega and Altair. From there, it was easy to spot the constellations that went with them, and she murmured their names as well. “Cygnus the Swan, Lyra the Harp, and Aquila the Eagle.”
She indulged in a few more minutes under the stars before circling back to the fire the long way, listening, always listening. Once again, she was careful to keep her eyes averted from the fire when she picked up her mug of tea, preserving her night vision. She thought of some more ideas she wanted to add to her notes, but couldn’t risk adequate illumination to write, so she memorized them. It made her think of writing papers in her head while she waited tables in college, and the memory made her feel nostalgic in a way she struggled to define. The things she’d thought of as difficult back then – unreasonable paper deadlines, double shifts at work, moody roommates, unreliable project partners – seemed like problems from another planet now.
When 4:00 am rolled around, she was tempted to just let Jack sleep. He, too, appeared to be sleeping dreamlessly, and she was wired. It seemed a shame to disturb him, but Martin’s voice sounded in her ear as if he was standing right next to her. “Don’t be an idiot. If you can’t sleep, rest. Lack of sleep makes you stupid, and stupid kills.” Piper sighed and listened to a man who was hundreds of miles away.
Jack opened his eyes immediately when she spoke his name, then zipped himself out of his tent and stretched. Owen and Ed slept on, with Rosemary curled on a blanket at the foot of Ed’s tent. Jack’s eyes met hers, alert and clear. “Four o’clock and all’s well?”
“Quiet as can be,” Piper confirmed. “Look, if you’re still tired, I’m wide awake and –”
Jack held up a hand, stopping her. “If you can’t sleep, rest. Lack of sleep –”
“Yeah, yeah.” Piper waved him off and headed towards her tent. “Martin and I have already been through all that. Goodnight.”
She did sleep, to her surprise, and awoke shortly after dawn. The others had already broken down their tents and loaded their bikes, and she scrambled to catch up. While she completed her morning necessities, the men pored over the maps she’d marked, discussing how fast they could get to the day’s target destination if they avoided this city, took that route, turned here or turned there. Piper smirked to herself as she hurried down a cold breakfast. Men and road trips always boiled down to the holy grail of “making good time.” Some things would never change.
They left while the eastern sky was still warm and rosy, and in just under two hours, paused to survey I-80 from the top of a hill. They shut the bikes down and removed their helmets, and in the sudden quiet, the only sound was the tick of rapidly cooling metal. On the interstate, traffic stretched in both directions as far as the eye could see. Here and there, piles of what might once have been people littered the road. Many of the vehicles appeared to have been ransacked, and some of them had been burned.
“Where were they all going?” Jack asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “And what happened when they couldn’t get there? So many people. Where are they all now?”
Piper hunched her shoulders and hugged her elbows, shaken by the stillness, the absolute silence. Ed reached to rest his hand on her shoulder, as she had done for him the night before, and she covered his hand with hers. Gratitude for the people she was traveling with overwhelmed her for a moment, made her blink back tears. She was so glad these good men were alive, and safe, and here beside her, instead of rotting in a car somewhere.
They started the bikes and crept past the gauntlet. Piper concentrated on finding a path through the vehicles and tried not to look too closely at what they were passing, but images leapt out at her just the same: A woman’s still-bright blonde hair, draped over a steering wheel; a fading infant mobile, jiggling softly in the wind from atop a haphazardly loaded trailer. And worst of all, the teeth. Bright white, shining from the shadowy interiors of vehicles, or gleaming from a disintegrating human face on the tarmac. Her stomach was quivering by the time they were clear, her throat tight with the need to cry. They rode on for another hour, and she was back in control of herself by the time they stopped to siphon more gas, but she doubted any of them would make it through the coming night without troubling dreams.
By noon, they were seeing signs of human habitation. They passed little towns that were completely burned out, and twice they passed barricades that had been erected across roads, with signs warning outsiders to “Stay Out.” Here and there, smoke rose from single homes or small towns. The towns got bigger the farther east they traveled, and in the mid-afternoon, they saw their first people.
A woman and several children were working in a garden patch alongside a dusty country road. They straightened to stare at the approaching travelers, and one of the children, a boy of about ten, rushed to pick up a shotgun. He didn’t point it at them, but held it at his hip with the ease of long practice. Piper was trying to decide if they should stop when a man broke from the cover at the back of the field. He was also carrying a shotgun, and he half-ran to stand between his family and the road.
“Move along!” he shouted, waving his arm to emphasize his words. “There’s nothing for you here! Just keep moving!”
Piper nodded at the woman as they rode by and had to resist the urge to turn to check behind them. She felt like she had a target pinned between her shoulder blades. When they were well past, she stopped, sitting on her idling bike until the others joined her. Jack and Owen looked grim, but Ed just looked tired.
“Guess that was the Nebraska welcoming committee,” he said. Rosemary, who rode between his legs with remarkable agility, chose that moment to bark sassily. It made them all smile. Ed ruffled her ears and kissed the top of her head. “Now that’s more like it. We appreciate it, girl.”
They were only 20 miles from the Iowa state line when they stopped for the night, once again finding a small stream to camp along. This one didn’t have a name according to Piper’s maps, but it was a bright and bubbly little creek, and the soft music of the water was soothing. They had made good time and probably could have ridden on, but they would be crossing the Missouri River when they crossed into Iowa, and Piper wanted to get another look at her maps. Rivers, especially in this part of the country, would draw people.
Ed was on KP this evening, and while he cooked up more eggs and vegetables, they all took turns washing up in the creek. It had been a long day, but Piper was nowhere near as tired as she’d been the day before. She added to her notes extensively while they ate, getting impressions and information from the others, describing what they’d seen and sensed in as much detail as she could remember.
After Ed had washed up, they settled around the campfire, each occupied with the task of their choice. Ed brushed Rosemary’s scruffy coat, looking for ticks and burrs, then examined the pads of her paws. She sprawled happily on her back and basked under his ministrations, especially when they concluded with a tummy rub. Owen stretched out on the sleeping bag he’d dragged out of the tent, dozing before his watch shift, huge arms neatly folded on his barrel chest. Piper continued working on her notes, absent-mindedly humming along whenever Jack played a song she recognized on his guitar. She looked up when he strummed the opening chords of one of her favorite ‘80’s power ballads.
“’Every Rose Has Its Thorn?’” She grinned. “I would not have pegged you for a Poison fan, Pastor Jack.”
He kept playing, but shot a look at her out of the corner of his eyes. “I wasn’t always a pastor.”
He went on to play and sing a more-than respectable version of the song, then segued into music by Whitesnake and Night Ranger. By the time he played Mr. Big’s “To Be With You,” Owen was sitting up on his sleeping bag, grinning and nodding his head along. Both he and Piper joined in on the irresistible chorus, making Jack grin broadly as he sang. Ed clapped and whistled when they were finished, and Rosemary joined in with excited barks, which made all of them laugh.
Piper’s notes lay forgotten on her lap. “Jack, I had no idea you were such a talented musician. Why were you hiding it? Ah!” She pointed her finger at him. “You were in an ‘80’s hair band, weren’t you? C’mon, confess!”
Jack rolled his eyes. “Piper, look at me and imagine me with long hair.”
She cocked her head to the side and did so. “I can see it. Like, totally.”
“Ha. Very funny. Now add a beard to that long hair, and who do I look like?”
Piper squinted at him, not sure where he was going, and a loud guffaw from Owen startled all of them. “You’d look just like Jesus.” He grinned at Jack, and the humor on his face made him look years younger. “That’s it, isn’t it? You would look just like the picture of Jesus my grandma had hanging up in her dining room.”
Jack pointed at him. “Got it in one. Not the image an aspiring rock-n-roll artist wants to project.” He looked at Piper. “So, yes. I was in a band. But I did not have the hair.”
Chuckles rolled around the campfire, and Jack started playing again. Piper settled back happily as he played Aerosmith and Kix, then strummed into her all-time favorite, Extreme’s “More Than Words.” When he hit the chorus, she impulsively picked up the harmony. Jack nodded encouragingly at her, then stopped playing before the next refrain.
“Hold on – let’s do it again. You take the melody line on the chorus, and I’ll take the harmony. Ready?”
Piper’s face flashed hot. “Oh, my gosh, no. I don’t sing.”
“Yes, you do.” Owen was looking at her, eyebrows raised. “You just did. It sounded really nice.”
“I was just playing around,” Piper sputtered. “I don’t sing for real.”
“You don’t have to do anything but carry the tune,” Ed offered his opinion. “Let Jack’s voice do the work. My wife and her sister used to sing together at family gatherings. My wife had a pleasant enough singing voice, but my sister-in-law could make anyone sound amazing. Just give it a try.”
“It’s just us here,” Owen chimed in. “What happens at the campfire stays at the campfire.”
“Okay.” She peeked at Jack, suddenly shy. “So just take the melody at the chorus?”
He nodded and started playing again before she could scramble for another excuse. At the chorus, she sang the melody, softly at first, then with growing confidence as she heard how beautiful it sounded. Jack’s voice wove under hers, complementing it perfectly. They sang on, voices blending at first, then somehow fusing.
Jack’s eyes were locked on hers, and the bond-line between them flared to a blinding rainbow of solid light. Piper felt something lift free in her throat and chest, and her voice rose to match that feeling. Tingles raced along her scalp and down the nape of her neck, then down her arms and legs. She felt like she was flying. She couldn’t remember, ever in her life, feeling so connected to another person. Or so aroused.
Jack stopped playing, and total silence fell around the campfire. Then Ed burst into applause, whistling and stomping his feet, and Piper blessed his dear, oblivious heart. She couldn’t have spoken a single word if she’d tried.
“Woo!” Ed hooted. “That was amazing! Heck, we’ll be able to sing our way across the country – forget trading that marijuana! Hey, do you know ‘Dust in the Wind?’ I love that song, though it is pretty sad, now that I think on it…”
Jack stood up abruptly. “I, ah.” He gestured with his hand vaguely, looking anywhere but at Piper. “I have to…”
Then he just turned and walked away from the campfire, still carrying his guitar. Piper didn’t watch him go. She kept her eyes glued to the fire, struggling to calm her breathing, her racing heart. She was mortified. And exhilarated. A part of her she’d thought was dead was most certainly not.
She looked up to find both Ed and Owen watching her, Ed frowning in confusion, Owen’s expression more difficult to analyze. “Well,” she croaked, and cleared her throat. “I’ve sure never sounded that good outside of my own bathroom before.”
Ed laughed, and chatted on, clearly excited. “I’ve never heard anything like it! It stands to reason, when you think about it. Jack can – for lack of a better word – manipulate people with his voice. No offense, Piper, but I’ve heard you sing. You’re solid enough, but he made you sound like a million bucks.” He craned around. “Did he run to the john? I wonder if he knows any John Denver…”
Piper was finally able to draw a deep breath. She peeked again at Owen, and this time, it was easy to see what he was thinking. He looked sad and happy at the same time when he nodded his head at her.
“It’s going to happen, Piper. Get used to the idea.”