Terry Brooks - The Gypsy Morph

“Got any food to spare, mister?” she asked him. She did not look at him as she spoke, her eyes lowered as if she had no expectation that he would even respond. “I’m awful hungry.”

He looked past her for others, for the ones who might have sent her out here to distract him, predators seeking to take anything he had on him. But he saw no one.

“Where is your family?” he said.

She glanced up briefly, shrugged. “Dead. Mama died last week. I’m the only one left.”

“It’s dangerous, being out here alone like this.”

Another shrug. “The compounds won’t have me. They wouldn’t have any of us, when I still had my family. Street people, they called us. Trash. Sometimes worse.”

He studied her for a moment. Then he sighed. “Come over here and sit down with me.”

She did so cautiously, suspicious of his motives. When she sat, she was careful to keep out of arm’s reach. He supposed she understood the dangers better than he did. Wordlessly, he passed her food and water in their prepackaged containers. “Here. Take these.”

She ate and drank as if she hadn’t done so in a very long time. He watched her devour everything, barely pausing to look up. “Tastes good” was all she said.

He finished his own meal, and by then she was done with hers. She wiped her mouth on the sleeve of her coat. She was sullen–faced and not very pretty, but her smile was nice. She inclined her head in his direction. “Thanks.”

He nodded. “You don’t have anyone you can go live with?”

She shook her head. “No one close. Wouldn’t know if the ones farther off are even alive.” She hesitated. “I could come with you.”

He furrowed his brow. “That’s not a good idea.”

“I can keep up. I’m a good walker. I could help carry stuff.” She licked her lips, looked back down at her feet. “I could keep you warm at night. I could do things for you.”

“I’m going somewhere dangerous. You wouldn’t be safe.”

She curled her lip disdainfully. “Safe? What are you talking about? I’m not safe here! I’m not safe anywhere! You know what happens to girls like me out here alone? You know what’s already happened, not two days after Mama died? Safe? Hey, mister, what world are you living in?”

He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. You can’t come with me.”

She stared at him a moment, then let her shoulders sag. “I thought you would say that, but I had to ask. You don’t look like someone who needs me or anybody.” She eyed him furtively. “Can you spare me a little more food? Just a little?”

He gave her half of what he had brought. He couldn’t seem to help himself. When he looked at her he saw Meike, the freckle–faced girl he had left behind at the Safeco Field compound in the aftermath of Hawk’s disappearance. He had told her to run away, but had she? If she had, had she ended up like this girl–ragged and starving and alone? He didn’t like thinking about it, but there it was. All these abandoned children, tossed into a world of predators and poisons, bereft and hopeless waifs. He wanted to save them, just as Michael had saved him all those years ago. But he knew it was impossible. He couldn’t save them. Probably no one could.

“You sure you won’t take me with you?” she asked him again. “I won’t be any bother. I’ll do whatever you tell me to.”

He shook his head. “Tell you what you should do,” he said to her. “Go back up the road, cross the bridge into Washington, and keep going north on the freeway. First two–lane road you come to–only one you’ll pass that’s a real highway–you take it east toward the mountains. Some other kids are going that way. There are even more kids waiting for them, and some adults, too. They’re all heading for a place that really is safe. If you can catch up to them, you’ll be all right.”

She looked at him doubtfully. “For real?”

“Better than staying here, isn’t it?”

She nodded slowly, flicking back loose strands of her long hair. “Okay. I guess I can try. I can walk all right. I can find my way. Some other kids would be good company.”

“If you leave now, you can get to the crossroad by nightfall. Just keep traveling east after that until you catch up to them. Be careful.”

She grinned crookedly. “You don’t need to tell me that.” She paused. “Is it really all that dangerous where you’re going?”

“Worse.”

She studied him a moment. “Okay, I believe you. Good luck. Thanks.”

He set out alone a short time afterward, waving good–bye to her as she began walking in the opposite direction. She didn’t appear to have any supplies or clothes or anything beyond what he had given her or what she was wearing. She was a skinny, ragged figure as she disappeared from view, and he wondered, as he had about Meike, if he would ever see her again.

A short time after that, the owl reappeared, swooping down right in front of him, nearly taking off his head. He drew up short and stared at it as it circled away and then back again. He peered upward at the bird in disbelief, shading his eyes against the glare of the sun. What in the world? The owl soared overhead, spiraled down, and landed on a split–rail fence not a dozen yards from where he stood.

“What’s the matter with you?” he yelled at the bird.

The owl stared at him, its yellow saucer eyes unblinking. It was a small bird but strikingly marked with a speckled white breast and black bands on its wings and rings about its eyes. It had a decidedly durable look about it, he thought, even though it was sort of small for a …

He paused in midthought, remembering suddenly where he had heard those words before, realizing as he did so what he was looking at.

“Trim?” he asked the bird.

The owl blinked in response, spread his wings briefly, and settled back again.

A bird, he thought. She’s sent me a bird for a guide. At first he found it ridiculous. The owl was an oddity that didn’t seem right for what he needed. But the more he thought about it, the more sense it made. He had expected Trim to be a two–legged companion, one he could converse with and ask questions of. But that wasn’t what he needed. What he needed was a creature who could go anywhere and could find the least dangerous path to where he must go. What better place to do that than from the air? If Trim could make known to Logan what he must do, he might prove to be exactly the guide he required.

“All right,” he said. “What do I do now?”

He had no idea if the bird understood him, no reason to think he did other than it seemed sort of necessary. In any case, he had to try something to find out if they could communicate.

To his surprise, Trim gave a short screech, lifted off from the fence, and winged away. Giving a mental shrug, Logan Tom set out after him.

Less than five miles farther on, Trim flew off the freeway and down a smaller road leading east toward the huge mountain he had seen earlier. He disappeared for a minute and then flew back again, circling overhead. Clearly, he intended for Logan to follow, so Logan did.

This new road traveled in a straight line through residential neighborhoods and strip malls, shops and schools, a community of thousands in better days, but mostly deserted now. If there were people, they were staying out of sight. All Logan saw as he passed were packs of dogs and stray cats, and these didn’t look particularly friendly. He kept to the middle of the road and stayed watchful for any signs of danger, but nothing approached.

He passed through the heart of the community, buildings standing silent and empty, and entered a new stretch of countryside. Here the trees grew thick and skeletal about structures that were on the verge of collapse. Dark interiors were visible through missing doors and windows, and shadows draped everything in pools of black. There was an unpleasant feel to everything, as if the destructive forces that had claimed the people who once lived here were still hungry.