“Ready about!” Luc called from his position at the tiller, and Cass hopped to. She checked the area around them, then held tight to the freed jib sheet and called back.
“All clear!”
“Coming about!”
Holding the port sheet, Cass slowly released the starboard side, allowing the jib to fill on the opposite side. At the same time, Luc pulled the main sheet in and turned the bow of the boat into the wind. As the boat turned, Cass pulled the jib sheet in and made it fast. The sails flapped loudly until they were pulled in tight; with more speed and efficiency than she ever could have managed, Luc adjusted tiller and mainsail until they were once more flying along close-hauled. They’d been sailing into the wind since dawn, beating south along the Wisconsin shore, and no matter how many times they successfully completed a tack, she marveled at how easy he made it look.
Before she’d started taking lessons from Luc, she’d thought she had a handle on the basics. Veda had taught her about points of sail, how to tack and jibe, reef sails and heave to. She was even a fair hand at backing out of irons. Ten minutes into her first lesson with Luc, her ignorance felt like a flashing neon sign, complete with prominent down-arrow, hanging right over her head. He and his younger brother Bastian, who sometimes helped with the lessons, knew more about sailing than she could learn in a lifetime. Like their father, the boys had been born for water, wind and sail.
Cass had become something of a Nolette family project. In spite of Veda’s predictions, she had no intention of asking Luc along on her journey. As her lessons had progressed, however, Luc’s father had gotten involved, and the next thing Cass knew, both Gavin and Luc were insisting on accompanying her. From there, the plan evolved into leaving her little boat behind in favor of Luc’s first-born ship-building project, a 40’ custom-built sloop christened the Grindylow.
“We can’t take your ugly little abomination,” Gavin had reasoned with her, as he and Luc had exchanged smirks. Cass’s beloved and homely MacGregor was a source of mockery for all the Nolette men. “It’s just not big enough to be stable in rough seas. At the very least, you’ll be dealing with heavy chop around the Porte des Morts. Besides, there’s no way of knowing how many people we might be bringing back. If we do find your brother, chances are good he won’t be alone, and I doubt he’d want to leave his companions behind. Can’t safely carry that many passengers in your sad little dinghy.”
So she’d been outmaneuvered, and she could admit she wasn’t really sorry about that. The Grindylow was an elegant and lovely lady, and sailing with Gavin and Luc would be exponentially instructive. The plan was to sail from Beaver Island west towards the northern tip of Wisconsin’s Door peninsula, a finger of land named for the treacherous passage into Green Bay. They wouldn’t have to pass through the Porte des Morts – Death’s Door – but the area had claimed hundreds of ships over the years with its notoriously unpredictable conditions. From there, they would sail south, keeping the Wisconsin shoreline in sight and harboring each night until they reached Milwaukee’s McKinley Marina. Both Gavin and Luc were familiar with the marina from the lake side, and Cass knew the area from the shore, thanks to her time on Milwaukee’s streets. With reasonably favorable conditions and the option to motor sail when necessary, they were anticipating a four or five-day trip.
Once there, the plan got more seat-of-the pants. Pewaukee lay about 20 miles inland from Milwaukee, and they intended to walk it. Again, conditions were everything. They could make it in a single grueling day if nothing went wrong and no detours were necessary. Cass figured on at least a full day to rest up when they reached her home – time enough to take care of her parents’ remains if possible, and to leave a message for Jack – before they turned around and did it all in reverse.
And then, life had intervened.
Just two days before their planned departure, Maddie, Gavin’s wife, had fainted dead away in the midst of preparing dinner for her family. When she’d come to, she’d blamed the episode on the mysterious fatigue that had gripped her the last few weeks, insisting she felt fine. But the next morning, according to Luc’s account, she’d eaten three bites of scrambled eggs, then sprinted for the door, vomiting up her breakfast on the kitchen herbs she grew just off her back porch. Luc’s face had been the deep, rich red of mortification as he told the story at Cass and Veda’s kitchen table later that same day.
“She’s pregnant.” He closed his eyes, and shook his head. “Dad ran – and I really do mean ran, I think he’s lost his mind – into town and traded for a pregnancy test, so you know everyone on the island knows. Mom keeps giggling, then crying, then giggling again. She and my dad – God, it’s just awful.” His voice alternated between a simpering falsetto and a rumbling bass as he imitated his parents. “’I told you to get snipped! Didn’t I tell you to get snipped?’ Then he says, ‘You said you counted the days – how did this happen?’ and then she laughs and says, ‘How? Are you really asking me how this happened?’” Luc shuddered. “It’s just so wrong.”
Cass had left Luc drinking one of Veda’s “restorative” teas and had gone over to see the Nolettes. Happily, she hadn’t needed all the arguments she’d stacked up as she had walked: Gavin wasn’t willing to leave Maddie under the circumstances. When Cass had said she’d just go back to her original plan and sail her ugly little boat solo on the course they’d planned, Gavin and Maddie had exchanged glances.
“We thought you might say that, but before you decide, you should talk it over with Luc,” Maddie had said. “Solo trips are never smart if you have an alternative. If he still wants to go, he has our blessing.” Then, she had raised an eyebrow at Cass. All four of the Nolettes were exceptionally adept at reading the emotions of others, with Maddie and Luc being the most sensitive. “It can be hard for a young woman to accept help, especially when she’s used to making her own way. Harder than just doing it alone. Luc is as steady and reliable as they come, and he has sailed farther than what you’re planning, many times. His instinct is to help people, which makes me very proud. Accepting his help is a gift to him and a lesson for you, I think.”
Which was how Cass found herself on the deck of the Grindylow as they approached McKinley Marina. Luc started the motor, the low, churning rumble a startling, man-made sound after four days of snapping sails and lapping water. He kept the boat pointed into the wind while Cass got busy lowering both the jib and the mainsail. As they had traveled down the coast, they had switched back and forth between helm and crew, so Cass could learn both sets of responsibilities. Luc never stopped teaching, and as he had said, over and over, she needed to know how to make decisions, not just obey orders. For now, though, she was grateful beyond words that she’d taken his mother’s advice and that he was the one calling the shots.
They rounded the breakwater and entered the mouth of the harbor with Cass perched on the bow of the boat watching for obstacles. Like everywhere else they’d stopped, the marina appeared to be deserted, and Cass looked over her shoulder to see if Luc was picking anything up she should know about. Under her tutelage, he’d learned to expand his intuitive capabilities. He always knew when someone was watching now, and he was getting better by the day at discerning what that person’s emotions or intentions were. In answer to her silent question, Luc shrugged.
“Nobody around, as far as I can tell.”
Cass nodded and turned back to her task. To the south, the slips were more than half empty; the plague had impacted this area in the early spring, just as people would have been getting their boats out of winter storage. Of those occupied slips, many held sunken or half-submerged vessels, testament to the destructive power of a winter spent in Lake Michigan ice. Cass alternated between checking the water ahead of them for debris and trying to count boats that still looked seaworthy. She came up with six. Once again, she turned back to Luc, holding up six fingers. He held up four, and repeated his shrug.
As they’d agreed ahead of time, Luc steered them to the dock adjoining the boat launch rather than looking for an empty slip. Someone familiar with the area would instantly note their presence, but, they had reasoned, someone familiar with the area wouldn’t be fooled if they tried to hide in amongst the scattering of boats, either. If they returned to find Luc’s boat missing or damaged, they would commandeer anything still floating and punt.
As gently as a mother laying a baby in a cradle, Luc tucked the boat in next to the dock. He kept the motor running while Cass stepped onto the dock and began making the boat fast, staggering a little as she found her land legs again. When they were securely tied up, he cut the motor. Cass started straightening and rolling the sails while Luc jogged to the adjoining docks to check out the condition of the other boats they’d spotted. He returned in time to help her with the mainsail.
“Three of them look good, and we could make do with a fourth, but only if we can get the pumps running. Only one of them looks like someone’s been on board recently.” He pointed to a 45-foot catamaran, rolling gently at the end of the northernmost dock. “That one. I think someone might be living on it, but there’s no one there now.”
When they had finished stowing the sails, they stood together on the dock, listening to the soft sounds of land. Gulls called, and the wind rose and fell in soft whistles, making the halyards ring against the mast. The soft haze didn’t do much to soften the punch of the mid-summer sun, and still they stood there, staring at the dark outlines of the high-rises in downtown Milwaukee. Finally, Cass broke the silence.
“Well, I’ll go ahead and admit it. I’m scared to death to walk away from this boat. You?”
Luc’s head dropped forward, and he took a deep breath. “Jesus, yes. I know what I’m doing on the lake. Trouble comes up, I can usually find a way to handle it. Out there?” He gestured to the silent, dead city before them. “I’m afraid I’ll be worse than useless.”
Cass forced her voice to lightness and hopped back on the Grindylow. “Well, I’ll be sure to point it out to you, if you are. How many times did you make me capsize that skiff and recover from it? What? You didn’t keep count?” She drilled him with a look before she headed below. “I did.”
He joined her a few minutes later, and they loaded their backpacks in silence, taking most of what they’d brought with them. If the boat was looted, at least they wouldn’t lose much. Cass changed her deck shoes for her hiking boots, filled the water bladder in her back pack, resettled the baseball cap she never seemed to take off these days, then picked up the stout hiking stick she’d borrowed from Veda. She turned just as Luc attached a sling to his bow and adjusted it over his shoulder. Her surprise must have shown on her face, because he turned red and gestured to the bow.
“My dad made me swear I’d carry it. We don’t use guns – well, me and Bastian don’t. Dad has one, but he hasn’t taught us to use it yet. I told him I’d feel like some kind of Katniss Everdeen wannabe, but he insisted.”
“I think it’s a good idea, actually. We’re not overloaded with food. And if we run into trouble with people, maybe they’ll see it and think twice.”
“That’s exactly what he said,” Luc grumbled. “I still feel like a hick, carrying my big scary bow into the big scary city.”
Cass made a sympathetic sound but didn’t share what she was really thinking: That the city was probably going to be scarier than he’d even imagined. On her trip down the Michigan coast, if she’d sensed danger, she’d simply sailed on. She hadn’t ventured into a city the size of Milwaukee, and she had no idea what dangers they might encounter. To her, Luc’s bow seemed like a damn fine idea, especially because she was carrying nothing more threatening than a really big stick and the hunting knife Gavin had pressed on her. Veda had tried to convince her to carry a pistol – there were several people on the island who owned one and would teach her the basics – but Cass had refused. It simply wasn’t in her to aim a weapon at another person, even if her life was at stake.
They left the cabin, double-checked that the boat was properly secured, then stepped once more onto the dock. As badly as Cass wanted to hesitate yet again, she didn’t allow herself to, striding purposefully towards shore with Luc a half-step behind her. She was so preoccupied with faking a courageous attitude, she didn’t notice the spirit until it drifted right in front of them. She stopped abruptly, and Luc had to dance to the side to avoid plowing her over.
“What the –?” He followed the direction of her gaze, then looked back at her. “What is it?” His voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. “Is it...is it…oh, Jesus, is it a ghost?”
Cass reached over and gave his shoulder a reassuring pat. “Don’t worry. This is my turf. Just caught me off-guard, that’s all.”
Swiftly, she stilled her mind, centered, prayed for protection, then made contact. “We’re just passing through. Is there something we need to know, something you want to tell us?”
She’s late. She’s never late. Why isn’t she here yet?
Cass stifled a sigh as her fears were confirmed. This wasn’t a visitor from the world of spirit. This was an earthbound spirit, a lost soul. What had once been a young, robust man was now a frantic, frightened echo. He stared at her, radiating anguish and confusion.
She’s late. We were supposed to go sailing, have dinner on the boat. Why isn’t she here?
An exceptionally articulate lost soul – it was unusual to hear such complete thoughts, even more rare when the soul was confused. His voice boomed in Cass’s head, making her wince. She didn’t ask the obvious question; instead, she asked, very gently, “What’s your name?” After a long silence, the spirit’s confusion intensified.
I don’t know.
“It’s okay. I’ll help you. Tell me what your mom called you. Hear her voice calling you, maybe to come in for supper, or to wake up for school, and tell me what name she used.”
She felt the ghost’s relief as a lightening in the air all around them, as if they’d been enclosed in a noxious fog without really being aware of it.
Bryce.
“Bryce. Do you remember getting sick, Bryce? Do you remember hearing news of the plague and heading out here to the marina, maybe? Maybe you had a headache, a cough, or just a little fever?”
Rage and sorrow thickened the air. I can’t die. I run triathlons! I never get sick!
“I know, Bryce, sweetie. It’s not fair. You took care of yourself, did everything right. You were in the prime of your life. A terrible number of young, healthy, strong people died.” She paused. “But I need you to listen to me very carefully. Your soul goes on. Your soul is talking to me right now. Bryce, hon, your body did not survive. But your soul is eternal.”
Rage, softer this time, and sorrow so deep it made her bones ache with the cold. This is it, then? I’ll just be alone here forever? This is terrible. I don’t want this.
“No, that’s not how it is at all. Your loved ones are all waiting for you, waiting to welcome you to the other side.” Cass reached for the connection and began naming them for him. “Your mom, your dad, your twin sisters. And a beautiful young lady. She says her name is Jenna?”
How can I get to them? I don’t believe in an after-life. The worms crawl in, the worms crawl out. You’re just done. Is this some kind of Heaven bullshit? Because I’d rather haunt this marina than sit on some damn cloud playing a harp.
Cass stifled her impatience. Helping earthbound spirits was not her specialty, and she wished she knew a faster way. She and Luc had a long distance to travel and they were wasting daylight, but she couldn’t walk away from this. “Humor me for a moment, Bryce. Just let your mind float away from all those beliefs. Let your mind be free of this marina, of Lake Michigan, of all the physical world around you. Reach, with your heart and your mind, for your family. Picture them. Reach for Jenna. The veil is like a curtain, and they’re waiting right on the other side. Just move the curtain aside and step through.”
The veil. That is so hokey.
Cass gritted her teeth. “Just give it a try, Bryce my man.”
The ghost’s joy was a burst of light so brilliant it made her stagger back a step. She heard his voice, calling to his family, the peace and relief in it, and one last fading echo. So beautiful…
Cass blinked. She blinked again, rubbing at her eyes, but the spots remained. She was aware of Luc, then, hovering near her elbow. “Gonna need a minute for my vision to clear.”
“Is it gone? Its name was Bryce? Did it tell you that? Was it good or evil? Were you scared?”
Cass held up a hand, stopping the deluge. “I’ll answer your questions, but first, I need to get my shields up. At this rate, we’ll make Pewaukee in about…” She turned to look behind her. They’d made it about 25 feet away from the Grindylow. “Fifteen years. Give me a second, okay?”
Cass closed her eyes and sank deep into her center. She envisioned a cone of pure white light, benevolent, impenetrable, cascading from the crown of her head to her feet. “Divine Guides and all the angels,” she murmured. “Please protect us. Please help us pass without interference from the restless and earthbound dead. I will do what I can to help them whenever I can, but our journey to my home needs to be swift. I ask that this be done, if it serves the greater good. So be it, and so it is.”
She opened her eyes to find Luc staring at her again, his black eyes shining with more than a little yearning puppy-love, which she thought he’d left behind. As many times as she’d found herself unexpectedly underwater during his lessons, she’d long since stopped being shy about evacuating water from her nasal cavities, enthusiastically when necessary. That, along with the perpetual drowned-rat look she’d been sporting, tended to wreak havoc on a crush.
“You can talk to God and the angels, too?”
Cass rolled her eyes and slugged him on the arm, none too lightly. “So can you, doofus. Everybody can. It’s called ‘prayer.’ Come on, let’s go.”
Luc hurried to catch up to her. “That prayer – it didn’t sound like the church prayers I’ve heard. It sounded like Tolkien, or Robert Jordan, or Patrick Rothfuss.”
“I was a preacher’s daughter. I grew up listening to beautiful, lavish language.” Cass hunched her shoulders forward self-consciously. No way was she going to tell Mr. Literature her prayers were heavily influenced by the fantasy role-playing video games that had been her favorite down-time indulgence in the time before.
They reached the end of the dock and headed through the parking lot of the marina. Here and there, vehicles were parked haphazardly, sometimes with bodies inside, sometimes standing open, with human remains scattered about. Passing close to one such vehicle, Luc paused with a soft exclamation of dismay.
“Cass, look at this. The long bones have been split, to get to the marrow inside.”
“Split by what?” She’d been so concerned about the humans they’d encounter, she hadn’t given a thought to other types of predators.
Luc leaned closer, although he was obviously reluctant to touch what had once been a person. “Dog or coyote, probably. Maybe a wolf, but I don’t think so, not this far south. It could be a coywolf – a coyote-wolf hybrid. They’ve been spotted in most of the northern states. Pretty good size, whatever it was.” He straightened and looked around, shifting his bow into a more accessible position. “We need to add that to our list of things to keep an eye out for.”
Cass stifled a sarcastic, “Fabulous.” Snark was not going to help. She led them away from Luc’s discovery and out onto the city streets, squinting up at the position of the sun. “It’s mid-morning or just past - we’ve got to push hard, if we want to make Pewaukee by nightfall.”
South on Lincoln Memorial Drive to pick up Brady Street via a little pedestrian walkway, then north on Warren Avenue, and they were at the Milwaukee River in a matter of minutes. Other than the abandoned cars, overgrown garden beds, and some obviously looted businesses, this area looked much as she remembered it. They scooted across the river on the dam just above the 690 Reservoir, then jogged up a steep set of stone stairs. What had once been a large, mowed open space in the middle of a shopping area was now a tangle of chest-high weeds, and they stuck to the streets instead of cutting across, picking up North Avenue. Cass paused and looked around.
“Okay, make sure you’ve got your bearings, in case you need to get back on your own. We’ll follow North Avenue until we intersect with Lisbon, remember, then angle up and catch 190.”
“Which will take us straight into Pewaukee,” Luc said impatiently. “I know. We only went over it like 27,000 times.” He hunched his shoulders and looked around. “Do you feel like we’re being watched?”
“I don’t,” Cass answered honestly, “But I’ve got my shields up, thick as I can make them.” Even so, the presence of the dead was nearly overwhelming. They were everywhere, thick as fog to her senses. “We need to go with your instincts on this. Do we need to re-route? Go back the way we came?”
Luc took a deep breath, and shut his eyes for a moment. “No,” he said after a moment, his forehead creased in concentration. “I’m getting…curiosity. Some fear. Whoever it is, they don’t want to meet us any more than we want to meet them. They’re like…bears. They feel a lot like bears. They don’t want to confront us, but they’ll fight if they have to.” He opened his eyes. “Let’s just move through as quick as we can. I’ll let you know if I pick up something more hostile.”
Onward they went, swinging south around overgrown Kilbourn Park. Sometimes, they would walk for several blocks, and the only sign that the plague had passed this way was overgrown weeds in the sidewalk cracks. Then, they might travel through five straight blocks which had been leveled by fire. They crossed I-43, which was a parking lot as far as they could see in both directions, and after an hour and a half, they reached Lisbon Avenue.
Cass paused. Heat was bouncing up off the tarmac until she felt like she was being roasted from the feet up. Not a breath of wind stirred to relieve the oppressive humidity. “Do you want to rest?”
“No.” Luc was as saturated with sweat as she was. “Let’s just go on. All these buildings – how did people stand it? Makes my skin crawl. And it’s too still. I think we’re in for some weather later on today.”
“Spoken like an island boy.” Cass re-adjusted her pack straps and took a long drink of water. “We should stop in the next hour or so to eat something, though. Let me know if you see someplace that seems particularly safe and secure, okay?”
As it turned out, it was Cass who spotted their rest stop. They were getting close to 190 when a cemetery began to unfold on the north-east side of the street, deep and green and blessedly quiet from a psychic perspective. Cass automatically looked both ways – they’d been traveling on the south side of Lisbon – then laughed at herself and jogged across. She hopped the chain-link fence and bee-lined for the deep shade under the huge old trees. The tops of marble gravestone were just visible above the tall grass. Luc had stopped short of the fence.
He called out to her. “Uh, seriously? You want to stop here?”
“I so totally do. Just c’mon – trust me!”
She couldn’t hear him, but the look on his face and the movement of his lips told her he was grousing under his breath. She swung her pack off and flopped down on the ground under one of the beautiful old trees, luxuriating in what felt like air-conditioning after hours in the sun. Moments later, Luc joined her, but he didn’t take his pack off, nor did he sit down.
“Why a cemetery?” He looked around, eyes just a little wild, and shuddered. “This place has to be crawling with ghosts.”
“Not even one.” She sighed, driven to be honest, though he’d never know the difference. “Okay, there’s one. Fellow died mowing the lawn just on the other side of those trees, but he’s it, as far as I can tell. Have a seat. I promise you won’t be haunted while you eat your lunch.”
He didn’t bother to keep his grousing under his breath this time. “I don’t mind ghosts when they’re someone I know, I guess, but these are strangers. Ghosts of strangers. Of all the places you could pick. If this is some kind of revenge for making you capsize your skiff so many times, let me remind you that you asked me to teach you, and –”
He broke off when Cass leaned over and stuffed one of his mother’s cookies in his mouth. They both chewed in silence for a while. Then Cass handed him some venison jerky and went over the basics. “Ghosts don’t usually hang out in cemeteries, contrary to popular belief. Usually, you find them where they lived or died, or associated with a person they were close to. And to answer your question from before, no, I wasn’t afraid that Bryce was an ‘evil’ entity. Truly evil spirits are rare.” She grimaced. “Though I attracted my share of troubled souls when I was a teenager.”
“But how did you know the difference? You said Zeb was just visiting, that he wasn’t lost. How did you know Bryce was different?”
“He’d forgotten his name, for starters. Veda told me that can happen; she said it was important to reconnect the restless dead with their names, if possible. For Bryce, the idea of dying was so unacceptable, he just refused to believe it. He got stuck on the last day of his life and kept trying to make it come out the way he wanted it to.”
“So the dead can convince themselves of things?”
“Yep. Just like the living. And as long as we’re on the subject, they don’t become all-knowing and wise, even after they’ve reckoned with the light. If your Aunt Sue gave you bad advice when she was living, you probably shouldn’t listen to her when she’s dead.”
That got a chuckle out of Luc, and it made Cass realize how long it had been since she’d heard him really laugh. This was a grim and frightening task, and she felt both guilty and grateful that he’d undertaken it with her. They finished eating, then stood in the shade, contemplating the gathering clouds in the western sky. A gusting breeze had picked up while they ate, refreshing, but pushing ahead of it the smell of rain. Cass took off her baseball cap and stuffed it in her pack, then re-did her mess of a ponytail, enjoying the way the breeze cooled her sweaty head. She secured the rain cover on her backpack before resettling the straps on her shoulders.
“I guess if we get rained on, we might smell better.”
Her quip earned another chuckle from Luc, and they left the cemetery, walking briskly side-by-side. “I don’t know,” he answered. “I know I didn’t have what most people think of as a ‘typical’ upbringing, but I always thought it was weird, how mainland girls wore so many different layers of scent. Their hair stuff, lotion, then perfume. It’s like their real scent was something to be ashamed of.”
“You know, I’ve been thinking something similar about the end of disposable razors. What are we all going to do? Shave with a straight razor? Scavenge some Brazilian wax? Or,” she clutched her chest dramatically, “Get used to the fact that grown women have hair on their bodies?”
Luc’s cheeks flushed, but he laughed. “The end of civilization as we know it.” He was quiet for a few steps, then spoke again, thoughtfully this time. “Does it ever seem to you that some things are better, because of the plague? I mean,” he hurried to clarify, “Not that so many people died. That part is terrible. But maybe we’ll be done with stupid things like too much artificial this or that, like scent and additives in our food. Maybe a world where girls have body hair and that’s just normal will be better.”
Hearing how closely his thoughts mirrored what Cass often thought reinforced the connection that had been growing between them through all the days of working and sailing and learning together. In the time before, Cass had enjoyed casual friendships and the occasional romantic interlude. People came and went in her life, with Veda as her only necessary constant. Now, she could see how she’d held people at arm’s length. Safer, to keep relationships surface-only. No chance of rejection that way. She knew, from counseling her clients, that she had “family of origin” issues, that she felt abandoned by her parents and her brother, and had limited others’ access to her heart as a result.
But now, survival was forcing people to work together whether they liked each other or not. To do that, they needed to really know each other, strengths, weaknesses and all. Relationships were no longer temporary or disposable. It was so much harder. And so much richer. Cass looked over at Luc as they walked and realized that she might very well know this young man all the rest of her days on the Earth. She’d watch him grow and mature. She’d meet his new little brother or sister, and watch that child grow. In all likelihood, she would build unique and lasting relationships with every person on the island – even the elusive “Mr. Smith.” The insight made her smile and also made her heart clutch with tenderness and fear. People could be gone in a blink. Everyone left living knew that.
“I hope you’re right, Luc. I hope at least some things will be better. I really want to think we didn’t lose so much and gain nothing in return.”
Luc nodded. “My mom thinks the plague was Nature’s way of forcing us all to evolve.” He nudged her with his elbow as they walked. “You know, those of us who weren’t already psychic. Anyway, she thinks the plague was the Earth’s way of saving herself. She lightened the load, and at the same time, made it so we would understand each other better and maybe live with more care on the planet.”
“That makes as much sense as anything.” Cass looked around, and knew that much of what she was seeing would fall into unrecognizable ruin in the next few years. Not only people had been lost, but art, literature, music, technology, and myriad other expressions of human creation and ingenuity. The living would retain what they could, remember what they could, but in so many ways, they would be starting over. A brutal lesson for Earth’s children, to be sure. She tightened the straps of her backpack and moved forward with greater purpose, suddenly not wanting to talk. “We’d better pick it up.”
Luc fell in behind her, and they pushed on through the afternoon. Occasionally, gusts of wind brought a few drops of rain, but the bulk of the storm clouds swung to the north of them. Not until they crossed the Menominee River did they see evidence of living people. On the long, sloping hill to the west of the river, on what had once been a golf course, three tents had been set up, and small campfires smoldered amid long lines of drying fish. The unmistakable carcass of a zebra hung from a tree, headless and field-dressed. Cass and Luc exchanged startled glances.
“That’s right – the zoo wasn’t that far south of here.” Cass looked around. “There has to be someone close by, tending those fires.”
Luc, too, was looking all around them. He frowned. “I don’t feel attention on us. But I don’t think we should stop to chat, either. Just a hunch.”
“Good enough for me.” Cass closed her eyes for a moment and took in a long, slow breath. The presence of the dead was especially heavy here, and she wondered if these people were unknowingly holding lost souls near. Even through her cone of white light, the confusion, hostility and despair pulled at her spirits, dragged her thoughts into the dark. She shook herself, and gestured for Luc to take the lead. “I don’t want to freak you out, but there’s a lot of pressure here from the lost ones. Just keep following this street and keep your eyes peeled for trouble on the physical plane. I’ll just follow for a while, okay?”
Luc’s eyes snapped wide, then slid from side to side as if the ghosts were sneaking up on them from behind…which, in fact, they were. One of these days, Cass would have to ask how they sensed her, how they knew she could sense them. Impatiently, she gestured again, infected by their urgency. “Chop chop. Not a spot for lingering.”
They double-timed it across the bridge, past a gutted Target and a whole string of burned-out fast food places. Cass kept her eyes fixed on Luc’s backpack. As she walked, she sang the doxology she’d learned as a child under her breath. The short hymn acted as a mantra, focused and soothed her. A memorial garden stretched along the south side of the road, and Luc looked at her over his shoulder, tilting his head towards the arched gate. “Need to rest?”
“Nope. Onward.”
The farther west they walked, the more upscale the businesses became. What houses they could see also increased in size, many of them sporting tennis or basketball courts. Cass estimated they’d come fourteen or fifteen miles when 190 curved gently to the south to cross the Fox River. Suddenly, Luc stopped. He made a startled sound, and his hand shot out to grip her upper arm.
“Cass! Look!”
She followed the direction of his gaze. There, in the waving grass on the bank of the gentle little river, crouched a little girl. She was naked except for a pair of filthy, lime-green shorts, and her white-blonde hair was a tangled nimbus around her head. She was eating a fish raw. As if she sensed their eyes on her, she stood abruptly, dropping the fish. For a frozen second, they all stared at each other. Then, she was gone, the top of her head barely visible as she ran through the undulating grass.
“No! We won’t hurt you! Please come back!” Cass looked at Luc. “She must be alone. We can’t leave her.”
Without a word, Luc vaulted the guard rail and ran after her. Cass followed, tripping several times when the grass snagged around her ankles, falling flat-out once and startling a pair of herons into flight. Ahead of her, she could hear Luc calling first to the girl, then back to Cass.
“Where are you? Hurry up!”
Cass blundered out of the grass and into a parking lot, breathless. Across the street, a chain link fence and a dark scoreboard marked an abandoned baseball park. “Did you see where she went?”
Luc nodded, pointing to a group of houses on the other side of the ballpark before he took off again. “I didn’t see which one she went into, but I think I can track her. Hurry – she’s so fast!”
Her hiking boots pounded the pavement and her backpack bounced painfully until she tightened the straps on the fly. At some point, she’d dropped Veda’s walking stick. They ran down the asphalt path separating the overgrown ball fields, emerging on the other side to more grass and trees bordering a once-affluent neighborhood. Luc scanned for a moment, then pointed. “There.”
He jogged through the grass towards a Tuscan-style home, following a trail too faint for Cass to see. They passed a swimming pool filled with brackish, black water, and slowed to a walk. Cass was breathing like a bellows and coated from head to toe with sweat in the thick, afternoon air. She swiped at her face with her shoulder, and put her hand on Luc’s arm.
“Let me go first. Maybe she’ll be less scared of a woman.”
Luc nodded and pointed towards a door that led to a small courtyard. A no-longer functional fountain in the middle of the space had been planted with vegetables, though the bed looked overgrown and neglected. Cass moved towards the door into the house, which stood ajar. She stepped inside, and gave her eyes a moment to adjust before calling out.
“Hello? Little girl? We just want to help you, I promise.” Cass paused and looked around. The kitchen had been a beauty, with vibrant, Mexican-themed tile and deep blue walls, but it was a disaster now. Garbage overflowed everywhere – empty boxes and cans of food, and fish bones. Lots of fish bones. They crunched underfoot as she took another step forward. “Hello?”
“You stay right where you are!”
Cass gasped and spun to the right. A woman stood in the shadows of a doorway, a pistol wobbling in her hand. Behind her, the little girl had both arms wrapped around one of the woman’s legs. The woman tried to take a step forward, then swore and swatted at the little girl’s hands.
“For Christ’s sake, Annalise, let go!” She shoved the little girl away from her, then straightened and pointed the pistol at Cass again. “What the hell you want?”
Cass held her hands out, the universal sign for “Please don’t hurt me.” The woman’s hair was as blonde and wild as the little girl’s, and there was something very, very off about her eyes. “I just wanted to make sure your little girl was okay – we – I thought she was alone.” Instinct made her conceal Luc’s presence. “You said her name is Annalise? That’s such a pretty name.”
The woman squinted at her. “You can’t have her. Told you people already, she’s just fine. For fuck’s sake, give a kid a little independence, a little responsibility, and it’s everybody’s business, how you parent. So you can stick your foster care where the sun don’t shine.”
“Ah.” Cass had no idea what to do. “I’m sure you’re a wonderful parent.” She cast around desperately. Maybe if she could get the woman talking, she’d at least lower the pistol. “Your kitchen is beautiful – I love the colors.”
“Not my kitchen. Well.” She switched hands with the pistol, then smirked, then laughed, an awful, cackling sound. “Guess it is my kitchen now, huh? I worked here, before. Cleaned for them. They’re both dead.” She waved the pistol vaguely over her head, making Cass flinch. “Died in their beds, and they can rot there, far as I care. Always paid late, and the husband was always trying to grab my ass.” She cackled again. “Karma’s a bitch, huh? I hope he’s getting his sick ass grabbed by some big, hairy con in hell. Serve him right.”
Cass just stared at her hopelessly. This woman’s grasp on reality was, at best, occasional. The conditions she and her daughter were living in were animalistic, and all around them, Cass could feel the dark pressure of a very strong, very angry lost soul. Not knowing what else to do, she shifted her gaze to the little girl.
“Hi,” she said softly. “My name is Cass. I bet I scared you, huh?”
Annalise stared back at her for a moment, then nodded, the gesture so slight, Cass barely saw it.
“Did you catch all these fish?” Another tiny nod. “You must be a much better fisherwoman than me – I hardly ever catch anything, and I live on an island. How old are you, sweetie?”
A small, filthy hand splayed out shyly. Five. Another finger from the other hand made six, and Cass had to swallow, again and again. My God, what was she supposed to do? She couldn’t leave this little girl here, in this squalor, with a mother who probably had fallen far short of wonderful before the plague and its aftermath unhinged her mind. She returned her gaze to the woman.
“Let me help you,” she said softly. “Let me help you both.”
The pistol, which had been drooping, jerked up again. “I told you, we don’t need help! Don’t need foster care, don’t need your god damn rehab!” The woman’s voice grew even more shrill. “It’s not like I’m using now, is it? Can’t even find a stupid cigarette in this town no more.”
Oh, no. It all came together, then, and Cass understood the nature of the entity she could feel, pressing all around them, malevolent and greedy and gleeful. This woman was an addict, and whoever had latched onto her had been one as well. Veda had told her about this phenomenon. Before Cass’s time, Veda had worked in a homeless shelter and had quietly helped similarly burdened addicts free themselves of what Veda labeled, “Cling-ons, not to be confused with ‘Klingons,’ who are a passionate and warlike people.”
Sometimes, especially if an addict died of an overdose, they might linger and attach themselves to a person similarly afflicted, to continue their suffering vicariously. For the first time, Cass felt a spurt of pity for this dirty, unstable creature. She was trying to keep herself and her child alive, she’d lost the drugs she had certainly used as a crutch in easier times, and to make a desperate situation worse, she had this foul entity glomming onto her like a cancer. Cass couldn’t fix everything, but she could relieve her of one burden, at least.
“Look, I’m not here to take your daughter or anything like that. I can…well, I can talk to the dead.” Cass paused. How to proceed? “I just wonder if…well, if you feel someone close. Someone who died. Someone who was addicted to drugs.”
The woman’s head snapped back and she scowled. “What kind of nut job are you? Everybody died – didn’t you notice? Addicts and goody-two-shoes and everybody in between. Annalise says she sees people on the river sometimes, but I ain’t seen them. I ain’t seen nobody, not one person but Annalise, since this all started. I don’t leave this house. Buncha criminals and packs of dogs out there – that’s all that’s left.”
Okay, on to plan B. Cass made contact with the entity, wincing at the chaotic, disorganized energy. It took her long seconds to even come up with a gender. “A man.” A sense of arrogance and entitlement came through, ridiculous and unwarranted self-confidence. “Probably a pretty cocky guy. Loved to party. Good-looking.” She was guessing, but the look on the woman’s face told her she was getting warmer. Then, clear as a chiming bell, a name came through. “Aaron. His name was Aaron.”
And all hell broke loose.
The woman’s face contorted with what Cass would always know, from that moment on, was killing rage. Her complexion flushed a deep, brick red, and her eyes were suddenly magnified by tears. Betrayal, desperate loneliness, terror and grief: the woman’s emotions sucker-punched Cass and left her gasping.
“That son of a bitch! That rat bastard! He’s here?” She looked around wildly. “Aaron, you mother-fucker, you show yourself!” She fired the pistol, two shots in quick succession, the percussions obscenely loud. Cass screamed – she couldn’t help it – and dropped to a crouch, hands over her ringing ears.
The woman spun around again, waving the pistol in an erratic arc. “You left me,” she howled. “You left me alone to deal with all this, you worthless piece of shit! I needed you!” She started to sob brokenly. “I needed you, God damn you to hell!”
Cass stayed down in her crouch but held her hand out. “Please,” she said, her voice nearly strangled by terror. “Please, just put the gun down. I can help you talk to Aaron.”
The woman froze, then turned her head slowly, her eyes narrowing on Cass. “How do you know Aaron?” she hissed. Her chest started to heave. “Are you fucking him? Are you one of his whores? Fucking him to score smack?” She brought the pistol up again, this time pointed right between Cass’s eyes. “I’ll kill you, you dirty –”
Her lips never formed the curse. Instead, they rounded in a soundless “Oh,” as she looked down at the bright red flower of blood, blooming in the center of her chest. She staggered, dropped to her knees, then fell forward onto her hands, the pistol clattering as it skittered away across the floor. Cass stared at an arrow, streaked with blood and quivering, lodged in the wall behind where the woman had been standing. She was aware of a curious detachment as her brain tried to come up with logical explanations for what she was seeing. There was an arrow. It was stuck in the wall. A rustle from the doorway behind her made her turn her head. Luc took one halting step, then another, his face a rictus of horror. Was he hurt, too? Should she go to him? What should she do?
The woman fell heavily onto her side, then rolled to her back. Her face spasmed in agony, but still, she made no sound. Cass crawled to her side. The woman held her hand out, and Cass took it automatically. Their eyes met, and Cass felt destiny shift and settle into a new shape around her.
“You,” she whispered. “We know each other from the time before time, don’t we? You brought me here. Brought us both here.”
The woman nodded, her eyes clear of madness and craving, clear of fear. Beside Cass, Luc fell to his knees, much as the woman had. He placed his bow on the floor with great care, his eyes never leaving the woman’s face. He was bone-white to the lips, and his whole body was shaking. He looked at Cass, his eyes vague and shocky. “She was going to…I didn’t know what to…she would have…I’m sorry…” His gaze turned back to the woman’s face. “I’m so sorry, so sorry. Please.”
The woman’s eyes returned to Cass. She coughed once, spraying blood onto the pretty tile floor. Then she smiled, and Cass saw her spirit lift free of her body. Cass bent her head and prayed, prayed for all of them in that room, the living and the dead. She felt Luc slump against her and begin to sob, awful, ripping sobs, and still she prayed. The woman lingered for no more than a breath, then lifted to the Light, her task complete. The entity called Aaron swirled and pushed a little longer, then drifted away; he might follow the woman into the Light, or he might not. At the moment, Cass didn’t really care.
She opened her eyes, and gently laid the woman’s hand on the floor. Then she curled an arm around Luc while destiny tore through him. He would be forever changed. Broken and new. Veda had predicted this, and Cass had dismissed it. In a different space, she would have been crippled by the guilt of that, would have convinced herself she could have prevented this if she’d listened, if she hadn’t let Luc come with her, if, if, if. Here, so close to the connection with this woman, she knew a path was being forged for both of them that could not have been avoided or denied.
Luc sat up, scrubbing at his face with both hands, chest heaving as he tried to regain control. He looked again at the woman’s face, and his chin gave a mighty wobble. He squinted and looked away, then startled and looked around the room frantically.
“Where’s the little girl? Cass, what happened to Annalise?”
Cass knew before she looked; the little girl was gone. So was the pistol. They searched the house, then the surrounding homes. They returned to the house, and worked together to dig a grave for the woman in the back yard. Cass rummaged through cupboards until she found a soft, pretty blanket. They lifted her limp body onto the makeshift shroud, trailing a drizzle of blood across the delicate yellow flowers as they moved her. Luc was white again when they had finished. He stood abruptly, then half-ran out the kitchen door. Cass heard the sound of him vomiting, but she didn’t say anything when he returned. They wrapped the woman’s body, then carried her outside.
He didn’t speak until they were standing over the mound of her grave. “We don’t even know her name. Will she go to hell? I mean, I don’t think she was a good person.” Tears filled his eyes and began spilling again. Cass didn’t think he was even aware that he was crying. “She seemed like a terrible mom. I’m not saying this to make it okay, what I did. I just want to know if I put her in hell.”
Cass slid her arm through his and leaned her head on his shoulder, hugging his arm. “She went to the Light, Luc. I felt it. We all go to the Light, eventually.”
He rested his cheek on her hair, twining his hands with hers and gripping tightly. “So there’s no hell? And I won’t go there for killing her?”
“No, honey, no. I know it doesn’t make sense now, and it sounds like I’m just trying to make you feel better, but you two had a contract. You made an agreement, to meet in this way, in this time and place. You served each other as you agreed.”
“How can you know that? You can’t know that.” Luc was fighting sobs again. “I killed someone, Cass! I took her life away! Anyone else would be telling me I was going to hell!”
Cass turned and cupped his face in her palms. “Honey, the only hell is the one you’re in right now. The one we make for ourselves here on Earth. The Light is love, and all souls return there. I don’t understand why this happened the way it did. I think we both just need to be patient and wait for that path to unfold.”
Luc closed his eyes. After a moment, he reached up and gripped her wrists, removing her comforting hands. “I have to find Annalise. We can’t leave her here alone.”
He searched until well after dark, traveling up and down the river, then searching the neighborhood in ever-widening circles. Cass stayed at the house, in case Annalise returned, and cleaned her mother’s blood off the floor. She removed the arrow from the wall and cleaned it, too, not wanting either Luc or Annalise to see, to be reminded. She tidied and straightened both the kitchen and the dining room adjoining it, where Annalise and her mother had obviously been sleeping. She walked to the river for water, and thoroughly watered the flagging garden in the fountain, then walked back and filled every container she could find, lining them up on the kitchen counters.
And then, she was out of things to do. The helplessness that took the place of doing was miserable. When Luc finally returned, silent and muddy, they slept on the plushly carpeted living room floor, avoiding the mouse-infested sofa and loveseat as well as the old death upstairs.
For two days, they searched. Cass had to force Luc to eat, and even then, he seemed too thin and harden before her eyes. Gone was the lean, healthy, strong young man she’d left Beaver Island with; a man with haunted eyes had taken his place. Finally, Cass had to call a halt.
“We’re out of food, and your parents are going to be frantic if we delay any longer. We’re already going to be a few days past our predictions. She’s not coming back, Luc.” He tried to turn away from her then, but she caught his arm. She made her voice hard, no matter how badly she wanted to be tender with his wounded, aching heart. “She’s not coming back. She’s either too scared or too angry. We have to go.”
He followed her back to 190 silently, the way he did everything these days. When they were on the highway, he paused once to look back, and Cass saw something take shape in his face. He gazed at the river for long moments, then turned to face her. His voice was determined, matter-of-fact. “I’ll never stop looking for her,” he said. “Never. We were wrong, Cass. The world isn’t better since the plague, not for people like Annalise or her mom. We’ve just been lucky.”
And so begins a path, Cass thought. They walked through the early morning fog, arriving on the outskirts of Pewaukee before the last of it had even burned off. The familiar places disoriented her, made her realize that she, too, was changed. As they drew closer and closer to her home, she began to feel a stirring excitement. Something was building, something was on the verge.
When they rounded the corner onto Hill Street, she couldn’t hold back any longer, and broke into a jog. As everywhere, death was here, and destruction. Houses damaged and looted, bodies in vehicles. But there, oh there. The little white two-story house with the green roof, the pretty, spindly porch railing, the sun room above. She ran up the long, gravel driveway, and the ghosts of all her childhood selves ran alongside her. Gangly legs, flying pigtails, Sunday dresses and skinned knees. The towering walnut tree, the hydrangeas, the little pine tree they always decorated with Christmas lights, so much bigger than she remembered. Cass slowed as she neared the porch, suddenly terrified to go inside. She stood there, hands clutched over her heart, until Luc joined her.
Together, they stood there looking at the front door. Finally, she felt Luc glance at her. “Ah, is everything okay? Are we going inside?”
Cass nodded, and still, she couldn’t make her feet move. They were dead. She knew they were dead. But what if? What if? The hope was terrible. She looked at Luc and had to clap her hand over her mouth to stop the sob that burst out. “I haven’t been home in almost ten years,” she managed. “I can’t believe how scared I am. I don’t want to go in there.”
He picked her hand up and looped it through his arm, patting her clammy fingers. Cass had a flash-forward that made her dizzy for a moment; this sweet boy would always be her friend, steady and true, and would always offer her a strong and capable hand to hold onto. “We came all this way. I’ll help you.”
They walked up the porch steps – oh, familiar creaks – and through the unlocked front door. Here, the house was remarkably unscathed, no windows in the front living room or dining area broken. The dust was thick and the air was stale, but otherwise, it looked like her mom might come bustling in at any moment, carrying a serving platter with a pretty roast chicken and vegetables for Sunday dinner.
Then, she heard her father singing the doxology.
Cass broke away from Luc and ran down the hallway, bursting through the swinging kitchen door. Her dad was standing at the kitchen sink, and he whirled, startled. Sun streamed in the window behind him, haloing his tawny hair, outlining the familiar shape of his head. Dimly, Cass registered movement out of the corner of her eye, sensed people converging, but her eyes were locked on her dad. Then, she blinked. And launched herself into her brother’s arms.
“Jack!”