August Ansel - Shadow Road

Arie nodded. “Yes you did, by God.” Hearing this shift in Renna from satisfaction to self-defense was a relief. She sat down on the deep shelf of the stone hearth. “You brought yourself out of that hell just like Curran did. I won’t even pretend to know the steel it took to do that. Hear me, Renna,” she said. “Don’t imagine that when I call you untried I mean that you’re a neophyte princess who’s spent the time since the onset living in a vacuum.” She watched, sitting silently until Renna finally looked up and met her glance. “The big picture is what I’m talking about,” she continued. “From the onset, you were held by Russell. Everything you knew about the die-off was what you were able to discern from that captive place, and then afterward—hiding from wild dogs of all sorts, you might say.”

“Yes,” Renna whispered. She dropped in a heap onto the sofa. Handy slid in beside her, lifting her feet onto his lap.

“Curran saw some of it, the beginning, on television and outside his home. You saw my setup. I only watched a single death, myself—the little fellow from across the street—and then those weeks with things falling right down into silence. No television, although I had a radio at first. For a while there was foot traffic, people wandering in out of nowhere, almost always alone, but a few times there was a little group together. Most often they’d wander right by my place, but a few crashed inside. Looking for food, I suppose. I was already up in the attic then, and Granny scared off everyone right quick. Gran was very good at that.”

Handy frowned down at Renna’s feet, gently kneading a knuckle into one sole, and shook his head.

Arie had to laugh. He’d never quite recovered from finding their grandmother’s body, decomposed into her bed, the first night he’d come looking for shelter with Arie. “I know, I know,” Arie said. “But it was her idea and damned if she wasn’t right. She did more to protect me up in my hidey-hole than any of my other camouflage did.”

The heat from the fire was starting to make her burn scars sing. Arie stood, stepping around Curran, who’d stretched out on the floor next to the dog. She planted herself in the rocker Renna had vacated, savoring the cool, heavy wood at her back.

“My point is that, even though we all survived the Pink, we’ve each sheltered in place somewhere. We’ve seen what’s gone on right around us—and that’s been wretched enough, I grant you.” She looked at Handy. “Except you, Handy. You’ve seen more than any of us out there, getting to Eureka from the Land.”

He looked up, gazing into the fire. For a moment, a shadow seemed to ripple over his features, as though he could see in the flames whatever appalling things he’d witnessed on his journey to find Arie. “People get up to darkness when they believe the light’s gone out,” he said.

“It’s lovely here,” Arie said. “No denying it. That bathtub alone is like something I might have dreamed.” She laid her head against the chair’s tall back. “You understand, though, I know you must. If we found this place, others can, too. They will.”

For a little while, the only sounds were the wind outside, the fire inside, and Talus’s quiet, contented panting.

“As the crow flies, Curran, how far do you suppose we are from the high school and that lot of Russell’s?”

He considered. “Twelve miles, I’d say. Maybe a little less.”

“Sounds right,” said Handy. “You can see on the map downstairs that we curved back a way to get here from the cave.” He made a backward C shape with one finger. “It feels remote out here because of how the house is tucked between hills. But think about how quick Kory’s parents were able to get out to the road and into town when they wanted to.” He shook his head again. “We’re not that far out. Not far enough.”

“We hurt them,” Renna said. “Talus might have killed Russell.”

“It’s possible,” Arie agreed. “Our good girl probably saved all of us.” Even without hearing her name, Talus knew she was being talked about. She thumped the floor several times with her big tail and rolled over to expose her white belly. Curran rubbed his hand through the soft fur.

“Shameless flirt,” Arie laughed.

“We did hurt them,” Curran said, “but…” He seemed reluctant to continue.

“Tell us,” said Arie.

“We did enough that day to chase them off , to get away. And Russell was torn up, yeah. But I don’t think it was enough to kill him. Not if they got him cleaned up. And if he survived, I don’t see him just giving up on us.” He looked at Renna. “Not that asshole.”

“We started something, didn’t we,” said Arie. “They set a fire that day, but so did we—one that’s had time to flare up good and hard. Renna, do you think they’ll stop looking?”

“No,” said Renna. Her voice was flat and her face blank. “No, not him.”

“No,” agreed Arie. “And if they won’t stop, then we can’t either. We have to count this place a godsend and use it wisely, but if we don’t put it behind us, we’re in for trouble.”

“What about the boy?” said Handy.

Arie nodded. “He’s been the most sheltered,” she said. “He hardly knows there’s a world beyond the clearing of his own front porch. Even in the best of times, he was growing out here in the woods like… like a little chipmunk.”

“Well,” said Renna, “let’s say a chipmunk with a gun.”

Curran laughed, and Talus’s tail thumped again.

“Yes, okay—poor choice of words,” said Arie. “He’s no innocent, and how he navigated this time, all alone? I can hardly imagine. But deeply sheltered, nevertheless. You understand where I’m going with this?”

“He has to come with us,” said Handy.

“It’s unthinkable to leave him alone again,” said Arie. “Especially now that we’ve made a trail right to his front door.”

Curran shifted so that he was sitting up with his back against the sofa next to Handy. “He might not want to. I’m not sure he even understands his father is really gone.”

Arie rocked and considered. “I think he knows. In his heart, I’m certain he does. Think how he’s been since the minute we convinced him to stop shooting at us.”

“Like family,” said Renna.

“That doesn’t mean he’ll want to leave, though,” said Curran.

“We won’t force him,” said Arie. “We couldn’t even if we tried. He’s a boy yet, but not a babe. It will be up to him to travel with us, or not. His life is his own.”

Once again, the silence rolled out among them, easy now. Seductive thought Arie, all this warmth . Sleep dragged at the edges of her mind and she fought it. There was more she had to do before she slept.

“When?” asked Handy.

“As soon as we can,” said Curran. “Reading through that last book of Wallace’s gave me the fucking creeps.”

Arie felt a bolt of relief that Curran should be the one to say it, so that she didn’t have to. She looked at Renna from the corner of her eye, but couldn’t tell what her reaction was. Handy though, looked equally relieved.

“Tomorrow we’ll set ourselves a deadline.” She got to her feet. “We’ll talk to the boy first thing.” Her heavy wool coat hung from a hook by the door. Arie slipped it on, craving its familiar weight and smell. She checked her pockets and found the two things she needed: the miniature labyrinth—carved redwood and fashioned with such particularity by Curran—and her folding knife. “Who’ll watch first?” she said.

“Me,” said Renna. “I’m not sleepy.”

“I’ll be out a while,” said Arie. “Don’t expect me too soon.”

The four of them—Renna, Handy, Curran, and Talus—watched her lift the latch and slip out into the dark. A cold breath of wind found its way inside, bringing in the scent of green needles and brown duff, making the candles waver and the once-more guttering embers briefly turn from orange to yellow and back to orange again.