John Hawks - The Traveler

Vicki glanced around the church. Hollis had won over some of them, but definitely not Reverend Morganfield. The elderly believers were nodding and praying and whispering, “Amen.”

“We must support the Harlequins and their allies, not only with our prayers but with our sons and daughters. That’s why I’ve come here today. Our army needs the help of Victory From Sin Fraser. I’m asking her to join us and share our hardships.”

Hollis raised his right hand and gestured as if to say: Come with me. Vicki knew this was the biggest choice she had ever made in her life. When she looked at her mother, she saw that Josetta was crying.

“I want your blessing,” Vicki whispered.

“Don’t go. They’ll kill you.”

“This is my life, Mother. It’s my choice. You know I can’t stay here.”

Still crying, Josetta embraced her daughter. Vicki could feel her mother’s arms holding her tightly, and then finally letting go. Everyone watched as Vicki left the pew and joined Hollis near the altar.

“Goodbye,” she said to the congregation. Her own voice surprised her. It sounded strong and confident. “In the next few weeks, I might ask some of you for help and support. Go home and pray. Decide if you want to stand with us.”

Hollis grabbed her hand and they headed quickly for the door. A pickup truck with a camper shell was parked in the side alleyway. As they got in, Hollis pulled an automatic out of his waistband and placed it on the seat between them. “Two Tabula mercs are out front, across the street,” he said. “Let’s hope they don’t have a second group watching us.” Slowly he drove down the alley to a dirt access road that ran between the two rows of buildings. Hollis kept turning until they reached a paved street several blocks away from the church.

“Are you all right?” Vicki glanced at Hollis and he smiled.

“I had a little fight with three splicers, but I’ll tell you about that later. For the last few days, I’ve been driving around the city, going to public libraries and using their computers. I’ve been in contact with this Harlequin in France named Linden. He’s Maya’s friend, the guy who sent me the money.”

“Who else is in this ‘army’ you were talking about?”

“At this point, it’s just you, me, Maya, and Gabriel. She’s brought him back to Los Angeles. But listen to this…” Hollis thumped his fist on the steering wheel. “Gabriel crossed the barriers. He’s a Traveler. The real thing.”

Vicki looked at the traffic as they turned onto the freeway. Thousands of people sat alone, each held within their little box on wheels. The citizens gazed at the bumpers in front of them, listened to noise from their radios, and assumed that this time and place was the only true reality. In Vicki’s mind, everything had changed. A Traveler had broken the restraints that held them to this world. The freeway, the cars and drivers, was not a final answer, only one possible alternative.

“Thank you for coming to the church, Hollis. That was a dangerous thing to do.”

“I knew you’d be there and I remembered the alleyway. Besides, I needed the permission of the congregation. I could tell that most of them supported me.”

“What kind of permission are you talking about?”

Hollis leaned back in the seat and laughed. “We’re hiding out at Arcadia.”

Arcadia was a church camp in the hills northwest of Los Angeles. A white woman named Rosemary Kuhn, who liked to sing hymns at the Jonesie church, had given forty acres of Malibu ranch land to the congregation. Both Vicki and Hollis had visited Arcadia when they were children, taking hikes, swimming in the pool, and singing songs around the Saturday night campfire. A few years ago, the camp’s water well had failed and the zoning board had condemned the site for different violations. The Jonesie church was trying to sell the property while Rosemary Kuhn’s children were suing to get it back.

Hollis took Route 1 along the coast, and then followed the two-lane highway that ran through Topanga Canyon. When they turned left at the Topanga post office, the road got narrow and very steep. Coastal oak and dense chaparral were on both sides of the road. Finally they passed beneath a wooden archway with the word CADIA painted on a vandalized sign and reached the top of the ridge. A long dirt driveway, eroded by flooding, led them to a gravel parking lot.

The buildings at the camp hadn’t changed in the last twenty years. The camp had men’s and women’s dormitories, an empty pool with a pool house, a water tank, and a large community center that was used for meals and church services. The long white buildings had red tile roofs in the Spanish style. Flower beds and a vegetable garden, once carefully tended by the Jonesies, were now overgrown with weeds. All the windows had been smashed and empty beer cans covered the ground. At the top of the ridge you could see the mountains on one side and the Pacific Ocean on the other.

Vicki thought they were alone until Maya and Gabriel came out of the community center and walked down to the parking lot to meet them. Maya looked the same: strong and aggressive. Vicki stared at Gabriel, searching for a change in his appearance. His smile hadn’t changed, but his eyes looked at her with a new intensity. She felt a little nervous until Gabriel said hello and hugged her.

“We were worried about you, Vicki. Glad you’re here.”

Hollis had gone to an army surplus store and purchased folding cots and sleeping bags for the two dormitories. A camp stove, water bottles, and canned food were in the kitchen of the community center. They used an old broom to sweep away some of the dust, then sat down at one of the long tables. Maya switched on her computer and showed them personal information about Americans their age who had died in car accidents. During the next few weeks, they would obtain the birth certificates of the dead people, then driver’s licenses, then passports for different identities. Eventually, they would cross the border into Mexico and look for a safe place to hide.

“I don’t want to end up in a Mexican jail,” Hollis said. “If we’re leaving the country, we’ll need money.”

Maya explained that Linden had sent thousands of dollars to America hidden inside an antique Buddha. The package was being held by an art dealer in West Hollywood. It was dangerous to ship money and pick up packages if the Tabula were searching for you. Hollis volunteered to guard the back of the building when she entered the front door.

“I can’t leave Gabriel alone.”

“I’ll be okay,” Gabriel told her. “Nobody knows about this place. Even if the Tabula found out, they’d still have to drive up that winding road. We’d see the car ten minutes before they got here.”

The Harlequin changed her mind twice during lunch, and then finally decided that it was important to get the money. Vicki and Gabriel stood in the parking lot and watched Hollis’s truck head back down the hill.

“What do you think about Maya?” Gabriel asked.

“She’s very brave.”

“Maya’s father put her through some pretty harsh training to turn her into a Harlequin. I don’t think she trusts anyone.”

“The Prophet once wrote a letter to his twelve-year-old niece, Evangeline. He said that our parents give us armor to wear and we decide to put on more armor as we get older. When we become adults, the different pieces of armor don’t match and they don’t protect us completely.”

“Maya is very well protected.”

“Yes. But she’s the same underneath. We’re all the same.”

Vicki took the broom and swept the floor of the community center. Occasionally she glanced out the window and saw that Gabriel was pacing around the dirt parking lot. The Traveler looked restless and unhappy. He was thinking about something, trying to figure out a problem. Vicki finished sweeping and was wiping down the tables with a wet rag when Gabriel appeared in the doorway.