26
Selah walked between Dane and Rylla while Bodhi, Mari, and Pasha carried the weapons. She saw Bodhi wince at the cut on her face and the graze on her arm, neither of which had healed.
The weather in Milwaukee cooperated for about the first ten minutes into their walk. The snowflakes came down so fat and fluffy that in the still evening Selah could hear them plop. It was serene and peaceful in the snow even though Selah nursed aches in every part of her body. They turned left onto Twenty-Seventh Street. Selah lifted her head . . . and stopped.
Bodhi ran into her back and grabbed her around the waist to keep from knocking her over. “What’s the matter? Are you okay? We can sit down if you need to.”
Selah ignored him and started to chuckle, and the chuckle turned into a laugh. She laughed until she cried, and warm tears made cold trails down her face. Everyone stared at her like the world was ending.
Off in the distance in the middle of a large open space sat three beehive-shaped domes. They were each approximately seven stories tall and only about 140 feet in diameter. The lighting made them appear as sparkling beams in the night. In the snow they almost looked magical.
“I guess that must be the market. Hope it’s warm in there,” Selah joked.
And it was. Each dome had a different tropical climate containing strange birds with loud screeching sounds and large plumage. One dome had a floor-to-ceiling waterfall and a forest where Selah wanted to stay forever. The domes were twenty-four-hour hubs of activity, and the warmth and food were welcome. It appeared the majority of people dealing in the marketplace were wealthy or were dealing illegal goods because they dressed well but acted shifty.
They hurried through the three marketplaces. They received enough money from one weapon to buy food and drink for all of them and had leftover currency for their travel fund.
As they sat eating cheese and fruit at a metal table bolted to the floor in an eating area, Mari pinned down the situation. “What do we want to do now?”
They came up with at least half a dozen things they needed, from sleep to clothes. Selah dozed between bites of the late-night meal, too tired to add suggestions.
“No,” Mari said. “We’re not focused. What do we want to do?”
Selah lifted her head. “Go to the West and find the Third Protocol.” She let her head plunk back to the table for effect.
Mari smiled. “We have no transportation and only as much money as we’re going to get from these weapons. So we need suggestions.”
“Why can’t we go by train? And what’s a train?” Dane asked.
The conversation stopped and everyone turned to look at Dane. He backed into the corner by Pasha. “I’m sorry. I won’t talk again.” His face turned red and he covered his head.
“No, honey, we’re not mad at you. We just want to know where you got that idea,” Selah said.
Dane pointed across the room. Selah turned. A sign said TRIPTIC—TRAINS TO PACIFIC NORTHWEST.
Pasha looked at the sign then turned to Dane. “A train is a vehicle that pulls cars of people and products. We never had any in Dominion because constant raiders made smaller personal craft easier to protect. Can it be that easy?”
Selah chuckled. “Nothing has been that easy.”
Her hearing had started to go. She cupped a hand to her right ear to test it and brushed her hand across the cut on her cheek. It still hadn’t closed, and neither had the cut on her arm. She was becoming fixated on watching them, because in the past cuts this minor would have healed by now, with no scar.
She mustered her effort and slowly walked to the sign to read the maps and schedules attached to it. Bodhi strolled up beside her, put his arm around her waist, and snuggled her ear as he talked. “Are you feeling okay? Your face hasn’t healed.”
Selah turned her head toward him and spoke in a hushed tone. “I just noticed my arm hasn’t either. I’m so tired I can’t stand up long. We need a long discussion so you know what to do with my family after I’m gone.”
Bodhi pulled away from her. “You’re talking crazy. We haven’t come this far to fail.”
“That attitude didn’t serve Mojica or Taraji very well.” Selah gulped back tears. Her emotions were starting to jump all over the place, and she hadn’t had alone time yet to mourn her friends’ passing.
“That’s not fair.” Bodhi looked hurt. He hesitated. “We’re going to make it.”
“I don’t think I will, but we’ll talk later,” Selah said, suddenly feeling overwhelming fatigue. She pulled four trifold maps from the sign stand and headed back to their table. “Okay, folks, we have four routes west. Each one has slightly different stations and they all end in different locations. Which one do we pick?” She spread the maps out on the table. Could getting there actually be this easy?
Selah nodded off a couple more times, and each time she awoke the others were still arguing routes. Rylla and Dane curled up together to sleep in a corner, and Selah went back to sleep, listening to the familiar drone of Bodhi’s, Mari’s, and Pasha’s voices.
February 16
When Selah woke, the breaking light of the morning sky blistered red on the horizon outside the dome. Old farmers in Dominion used to say red sky in the morning was a warning sign, but Selah and her family had been subjected to so much danger they were desensitized by it. She thought it ironic that dangerous, chaotic days were a normal way of life.
She stretched and studied the three sets of bleary eyes staring back at her. Despite the uncertainty, they still needed a plan to have a purpose. “Did you figure out which route we’re taking?” She was counting on them for the strength and mental clarity to figure that out.
“We each know several of the symbols but weren’t able to narrow it down farther than three—Portland, Los Angeles, and Seattle.” Pasha held up the three.
“Where do you remember the symbols from?” Selah looked at the tired group.
Mari shook her head. “We went through hundreds of documents. It could have been on anything.”
Selah looked at the route maps and the destinations. Nothing about any of them stuck out. She’d failed to sit down and study Glade’s data because she kept thinking there’d be more time.
A steam locomotive chugged into a station somewhere nearby. It shrilled a ten-second triple blast that vibrated the dome and created a strange whirring like a moan.
The noise jerked both children awake. Rylla, a morning grump, tried to hide her head behind Dane to block the noise, but Dane was an early-day bee in a bottle and couldn’t sit still. With hair sticking out in all directions, he proceeded to flit from person to person, playing with the paper maps. He mumbled as he unfolded and refolded them, then tossed each map until only one remained.
Dane smiled confidently. “This is the map we need.”
Once again he had silenced four adults. Sleep-deprived eyes stared back at him.
“Why is this one the right map?” Selah asked. He had been so good through this whole ordeal that she couldn’t just dismiss him outright.
“Because all the stories are in order—Tunnel, River, Dome, Devil, Wolf, Bear, Ice, Apple, and Needle. The nine stories are in order. I memorized them all.”
Selah looked at him and pulled the route map over to look. “Mother?”
Pasha shrugged. “I read some of the Stone Braide Chronicles at the beginning, but the children went at it on their own in Cleveland while Mari and I were helping with the epidemic.”
Rylla finally brought her grumpy self to the table.
Selah nudged her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, trying to cajole a smile. “Wake up and tell us if Dane is right. Are the stations on this routing the nine stories in the Stone Braide Chronicles?”
Rylla rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands, then pouted and leaned on the table, staring at the chart. She looked up as if she were deep in thought and counted a few times.
Dane bumped her. “Come on! Tell them I’m right.” He bounced around like a nervous frog.
Rylla scrunched up her face. “He’s right. They’re all there in the correct order.”
“What about these?” Selah scooped up the other three from the floor.
Rylla looked at the first discard. She puckered her lips. “Nope, this one only has four symbols.” She tossed it and opened the second. A storm formed between her eyebrows. “This one is closer but it only has eight.”
Selah looked at the map. The Needle was missing. This route led to Spokane, Washington. She tried to remember where the state was. The routes weren’t typical maps but a straight line with symbols at each dot, representing a station or detour.
“That sets our destination.” Selah pointed at the sign. “When does the next train leave, and how much does it cost?”
Bodhi and Mari hurried to the sign and did some furious calculations. “The trip takes four days, and the cost for six of us is more than we can get with the remaining weapons,” Bodhi said.
“By how much?” Selah asked.
“A whole ticket,” Bodhi said.
“The Red Crest guy would give us enough.”
“He’d also rob or kill us to take the money back.” Bodhi leaned away from the table.
“Then somebody has to stay behind,” Selah said. She didn’t really mean it, but wanted Bodhi to see the futility of not taking a chance on getting the best price for the weapons.
“I’ll stay here,” Mari said. She pulled herself up tall. Her lips disappeared as she pressed them together, her brows furrowed. Selah saw Mari’s hand tremble, but she quickly shoved it in her pocket.
“I’d be willing to stay as long as you promise to take care of Dane,” Pasha said to Selah. Selah hugged her, waiting for Bodhi to speak up.
The look on Bodhi’s face turned to horror. “No! No one is staying behind. We go together.”
Selah smiled. “These people don’t seem to know novarium or Landers, so we may have an advantage with our fighting skills. I think we could devise a plan.”
They walked the shortest route to the train station. After she saw the armed security, Selah felt better about leaving Pasha and the children sitting on a bench near the ticket counter for Seattle. Bodhi and Selah trudged back to the marketplace alone while Mari shadowed them, remaining at a location they’d agreed to about halfway between the market and the station. It was the longest direct sight Mari could have of the pair on their way back with the currency.
After talking to some of the marketers, Selah figured a daylight attack wouldn’t happen in the open where there would be witnesses. She and Bodhi could control the situation by leading the bandits through the area of abandoned buildings west of the station—a dangerous shortcut that most people avoided. That would happen right after Mari secretly joined up with the group.
Bodhi carried all five of the weapons. Part of it was a mind game to give Red Crest the illusion Bodhi was a tough guy and could beat him in a fight. After Bodhi saw the man’s physique, he whispered to Selah that he knew there’d be a problem but that the plan itself was foolproof.
Earlier they had worried about the plan because there was still a thin coating of snow on the ground and it would be hard to hide where Mari waited, but on the way back to the market the sun had gotten so warm the snow covering melted.
Now Selah wondered if there was an easier way than being targets walking out of the market with a pocketful of Milwaukee currency. They’d made the deal with Red Crest and received quite a bit more currency than they expected.
As they walked away, Selah held Bodhi’s hand as part of their innocent couple façade. “Why did Red Crest give us so much more and make a big deal out of it to the people standing around?”
Bodhi squeezed her hand. “This way he just upped the price he’d pay for that model, and it will bring in better business because now he can sell the weapons for more. He doesn’t intend to let the buyers keep the money. He’ll take it back at his rigged gambling tables, or his thugs will get it back if people like us try to walk away with it.”
They hung around at the marketplace, trying to throw off Red Crest’s henchmen, but they finally had to leave. With the currency stashed in their tactical suits, Bodhi and Selah took off at a jog toward the shortcut to the train station.
Selah dreaded the need to expend her precious energy, but the train station was only about two miles away. Halfway there Mari signaled them with a piece of shiny metal, letting them know she’d follow along on the sideline.
Selah kept up, but she had to push herself a lot harder than she normally would. It was happening too fast. The two open wounds were glaring reminders that her novarium cycle was almost done. At this rate she would only last a matter of days instead of months.
She could hear Bodhi’s breathing as they ran. They were so in tune. How would he be without her?
Bodhi’s chest pounded like a fist. He felt every fiber in him ready for this fight. He could have no doubt. The men working for Red Crest were going to be big.
Two men ran from the other side of the first abandoned building and charged at them. Bodhi drew the bigger guy with the gray shirt around the corner of the building to separate the men and let Mari help Selah. The guy confronting Bodhi planted his feet and held up two fists on arms that looked like logs.
Bodhi put up his hands and jabbed. The guy dodged to his right and came around to hit Bodhi in the ribs, buckling him over. With a twist, Bodhi came back with an uppercut to the guy’s jaw, and Gray Shirt staggered back.
He charged toward Bodhi, who stood his ground till the last second and then sidestepped. Gray Shirt spun to hit Bodhi again, and Mari appeared crouched behind him. Bodhi shoved the guy with two fists, and he flew over Mari’s back. His head smashed into the ground, knocking him out.
Even with Bodhi and Selah at less than their optimum, they were still stronger than normal people their size, so surprise and speed were the advantage with these guys.
Bodhi and Mari ran to help Selah with Black Shirt Guy. They arrived just in time to see Selah sweep his legs and come down on his chest with the full weight of her body. Her elbow and then her fist smashed into his face.
Bodhi pulled Selah to her feet, and they ran. She was a little slower, but he held Mari back to help synchronize their steps as they worked their way through the crumbled stone and brick buildings of the ancient factory complex.
Around the last corner, the station came into view. The huge ten-wheeled steam locomotive sat on the track at the front of a six-car train. Running footsteps bore down on them. Bodhi turned to see another black-shirted guy roaring toward them. Mari also saw him.
Mari grabbed Selah by the arm and spirited around a tall container and into the station. Bodhi ran around the container behind them, then spun and planted his fist in the guy’s face as he caught up. The man crumpled into a stone barricade and slid to the ground. Bodhi sprinted into the station.
He hurried to the ticket counter where Pasha and the kids waited and laid out the currency for the six tickets with a sleeper car. Everyone piled on the train barely two minutes before the stairs were pulled up and the whistle was blown to push off from the station.
The kids ran down the aisle looking for the compartment number and excitedly announced to anyone listening that they were going to the West. Bodhi enjoyed hearing that. Despite his doubts at the beginning, he had been able to keep the family together. Glade could rest in peace now.
They filed into the six-person car, which had a wide window. Three people sat on each side, and overhead a sleeper bunk pulled down on each side so two could sleep and four could be awake and comfortable. Once cabin fever hit, there was a viewing car and dining facilities, their tickets said.
Bodhi helped Selah up into one of the overhead bunks. She protested that she wasn’t all that tired, but she only uttered two sentences before she fell asleep. He was afraid to bring it to Pasha’s and Mari’s attention, but besides Selah’s lack of healing, her skin had taken on a yellowish tinge. Bodhi wasn’t sure if she’d notice the color of her skin because her eyes were covered in the same film.
He decided to make notes for Selah to read later, after she connected to the Third Protocol and they began their lives together. They were so close to the end.
February 17
Selah awoke ravenously hungry. She sat up quickly, forgetting her surroundings, and whacked her head on the ceiling of the overhead bunk. She looked over the edge.
Bodhi looked up from the seat beneath her. “Good morning, firefly.” He stood and helped her down.
Selah stretched. It felt good, but weakness had crept into her bones. She glanced around. “Where’s everybody?”
“Pasha took the kids to the observation car,” Mari said. “She’s decided to turn this into a learning trip about the stories they remember from the Stone Braide Chronicles. We had a good bit of money left over from the tickets, so we have an account in the dining car. Help yourself.”
“Leave it to Mother to get them to learn without knowing,” Selah said. Her stomach growled.
Bodhi leaned forward. “Pasha did it to keep them from spending too much time around you.”
Selah balked. “Why? What’s the matter with me?”
“Sister, I love you dearly, but you’re beginning to . . . well, not look so good, and the kids are getting concerned. Pasha just wanted to spare them some of it,” Mari said.
Selah looked down at her arms. The color was off. Her hand went to her cheek. There was still moisture at the cut, and she could see the furrowed edge of the bullet graze on her upper arm. “Do I look that bad?”
“No, to an outsider you look normal. It’s just to us who know you better that it’s noticeable.” Mari smiled then reached over to cuff Bodhi. “You never tell a woman she looks bad!”
He was so surprised he couldn’t say anything. Selah had to leave before she burst into laughter. “My stomach is ready to revolt. I’m going to find something to eat for breakfast.” She quickly exited and headed up the narrow aisle, thankful that the walls were close enough for her to balance on wobbly legs.
She looked at the sign ahead declaring “Dining Car.” Selah stopped and glanced at her dusty, dirty tactical uniform. Everyone in there probably wore travel clothes, not a uniform run through fire. She had gotten used to the family smelling burned, but she noticed strangers seemed to pull away.
Selah reached for the handle. She wasn’t going to worry about people’s thoughts of her clothes, because there were bigger problems. She held her head up and walked in.
Most of the men in the car appeared to be miners probably going to gold fields that she had seen posters for in the train station. Selah smiled. Their clothes had years more dirt than hers. She sat at the service counter and requested an order of eggs, fruit, and bread, which was delivered quickly while she looked for a seat. Selah took the food to an outside table with a window view of the countryside.
Selah watched out the window for the longest time between bites of food. She enjoyed the peace and monotonous turning of the train wheels.
“Would you like some water to wash down that dry bread?” A black-haired man smiled and offered a cylinder of water and a cup.
Selah nodded and drank down two cups of the chilled liquid. She put down the cup and picked up her fruit.
The man sat at the next table with his hands crossed in front of him, staring at Selah. She stopped mid-bite and looked at him. “Is there a problem?” Was he one of these clothes-sniffer types?
The man pursed his lips and shook his head slowly. “Nope. No problem at all. I just wanted to get a good look at one of you.”
Selah jerked to attention. “Excuse me?”
“A novarium. I wanted to get a good look even though you’re no good no more,” the man said.
Selah began to stand. “What makes you think I’m a novarium?” Now that she was paying attention she saw part of a lightning bolt under his rolled-up sleeve. She panicked and tried to scramble away, but her coordination failed and she fell forward.
The man caught her before she reached the floor and sat her back on the seat. “Relax. I told you that you’re no good anymore.”
Selah leaned back in the seat. It was stupid to be this close to him, but there’d be eleven other witnesses if he did anything. Her heart raced.
“Explain. Why am I not good anymore?” She felt crazy for asking such a question.
He gestured. “Your face. It’s not healing. Your blood is soured now. No one will bother you anymore, not with that open cut on your face.”