August Ansel - The Attic

Curran got to his feet, swaying, one hand on his head, and stood there for a full minute with his eyes closed.

“Are you going to keep your feet?” Arie said.

“I’m just dizzy.”

“That’s your heart sending blood back to your head,” said Renna, mimicking what Arie had told her that morning.

“Clever,” said Arie.

Renna ignored her. “You can sit here with me,” she told Curran, indicating the place next to her on the car seat.

Curran nodded. “Thanks. I need to stand, though.” He leaned down to get his cup of water. Bending over made him stumble slightly. Handy was standing between Curran and Renna, and when Curran stumbled he shifted his weight slightly, as if to catch hold. Arie couldn’t tell if it was an instinct to help Curran, or to preempt him from moving toward Renna, but she knew he was trying to trust, and she felt a small surge of pride for him.

“I have to get back to Talus,” he said. “It’s not safe for her, tied up like she is.”

“It doesn’t sound safe for you, either,” said Renna. She looked at Handy, then at Arie. “He should stay here,” she said.

“There is no room,” said Arie. “Look around, Renna. We are close to tripping over each other with three of us, and we’re going through supplies too quickly already. Four plus a dog? No.” She turned to Curran. “I’m sorry,” she said. “But clumped up in a bigger and bigger group makes us a bigger and bigger target. You and Handy are leaving soon anyway,” she said to Renna. “Perhaps Curran will go with you.”

“Go where?” said Curran.

“To Handy and Arie’s home place,” said Renna. “What’s it called?” she asked Handy.

“God’s Land,” Handy said, still terse and watchful.

“It’s Handy’s home place,” said Arie. “I’ve not seen it nor claimed it for forty years. As soon as Renna can walk well, they’ll be going, and I will be living here alone again.” She looked from face to face. “Alone,” she said again.

“If I just had somewhere to stay for a few days,” Curran said, “a safer place for Talus and me to scout from.” He looked at Arie. “Please,” he said. “I won’t use your supplies, I swear it. I can help you while I’m here, and when Handy and Renna are ready to go, Talus and I will leave, too. No matter what.”

“Arie,” Renna said. She managed to get to her feet again and limped over. “He can help us. He—” She hesitated, looking at Curran for a moment. “He knows things. About the people at the high school.”

“What about the high school?” said Handy.

“A lot,” said Curran. “Things you should know, Arie, if you’re staying on.”

Handy assessed Curran for a moment and nodded. “Sister,” he said to Arie. A lot of the coarse tension had drained out of his demeanor. His voice had returned to its characteristic gentle lisp. “I think we should hear him out. He and the dog could stay downstairs.” He searched her face with his eyes. “I’ll help him make it suitable for the short term. But this is your decision. Whatever you want to do.”

It was what they all wanted. She could see it on every face. Having Curran downstairs increased their possible visibility and risk of detection, but it might be offset by having another set of eyes and the early warning system of the dog. When Handy and Renna did set off for God’s Land, they’d be safer with three than with two.

“You have supplies to bring here?” she asked.

“I do,” he said. “Not a lot. Not like this.” His eyes swept the work table and her tall shelves. “But if Handy comes with me, the two of us can carry back just about all of it.”

Arie stepped close to Curran. He was more than a head taller, and she had to lift her face to look at him, but he took a compensatory half-step back. “You can stay,” she said. “But when I tell you it’s time to go, then it is time to go. Ready or not, new camp or not. When I tell you it’s time to leave, that’s exactly what’s going to happen, or so help me there will be a blood-flowing tussle between us.”

Curran nodded. “Agreed.”

She squeezed his shoulder. “Handy,” she said, “I’m going with Curran to his camp.”

“What—”

“Let’s not run this round and round, shall we?” She was already pulling on a heavy flannel shirt and stocking cap. She slid her arms through the straps of her carry basket. “It doesn’t make sense any other way. If there is more trouble here, I want you with Renna.”

It was clear there would be no arguing with her. Handy helped them leave through the sky panel, and when they’d lowered themselves into the yard, he pulled up the rope ladder. Arie and Curran waited at the corner of the house; Handy made a quick scan of the area and gave them the all-clear. They crossed the crazzled asphalt, once upon a time called Eleventh Street, and cut into the trees between the houses where Arie’s neighbors lay a long time dead, their rooms now home to raccoons and mice, spiders and yellowjackets.

The woods here were new, scrubby second-growth that had once been mostly made up of massive redwood trees. Most of those were cut for timber long before Arie was born. She and Lulu and Mercy, on those rare visits to Granny with Mammy Delonda, had been allowed to play here, with earnest promises that they would not come back muddy from the trickle of a creek that piddled along at the bottom of the ravine year-round.

All these decades later, that ravine was now a river bottom. The dire warnings of rising sea levels hadn’t meant much when she was growing up, even though it was pretty easy to see the trouble in progress whenever they made a trip into town. The bay took over more and more pastureland, freshwater sloughs became estuaries and salt marshes, and dozens of miniscule creeks that served as watershed runoff from the hilly wet woods became full-fledged rivers. Her grandparents’ house, once a ten-minute drive from the beach, was now almost waterfront property. If not for the deep gulch, she might have ended up underwater altogether.

Curran was getting around surprisingly well in spite of the gash on his head, setting a strong pace, no doubt worried about his dog. They walked in silence for some time, him slightly ahead to show her the way. Arie kept the short spear in her hand, and she was happy to see that he was trying to be vigilant. He stepped around twigs and avoided snagging the undergrowth. But Arie could see exactly where they were going. If she’d wandered into this part of the woods earlier, she would have followed it straight to his camp. “You’ve made a trail,” she said. Though she spoke softly, her voice was startling out here.

He looked around himself and back at her, not slowing. “I try not to walk exactly the same way every time,” he said.

“Nevertheless,” she said. “Tomorrow you and Handy should come out together and confuse things.”

“Good idea.”

When they were about a quarter mile in, he stopped and pointed into the bushes. “See the noisemakers?” He’d done a good job with these. The first string of empty cans and lids and miscellaneous detritus was placed strategically, low enough to trip but camouflaged by undergrowth. Once he’d pointed them out, she noticed lines of twine and what looked like green dental floss were strung with great care, like the work of a huge and busy spider. “I’ll point them out as we go,” he said. True to the story he’d told them, there were a great many noise traps. He alerted her to each one just before they reached it, not saying anything, only pointing and stepping around or over the obstacle, leading the way. Not once did he fail to get them quietly through his handiwork, even though daylight was rapidly diminishing this far into the trees.