Travelers

by Alia Hess

  “Come in!”

  “Um…” She hesitated at the entrance, rubbing the band of vines on her finger. “What do you think, Trav?”

  He shrugged, brows pushed together, and she peered into the house. “I don’t know if there’s room…”

  “Nonsense. You have to—to come in for at least a minute.”

  She walked into the shack, tiptoeing through the litter on the floor and being careful not to touch the precarious piles of crap stacked around her.

  “Ow!” Trav exclaimed as he banged his head on a heavy skillet hanging from the ceiling.

  Gale stood before a bed in the back, strewn with more items, then pushed the stuff aside, knocking much of it onto the floor. Trav set down the overstuffed pack. A metal cherub statue occupied a large portion of the cluttered corner. Rust climbed the face, covering one scraped-off eye and broken nose. Several strands of beads dangled from its neck. A pair of shorts clothed the cherub’s pot belly, and a teddy bear hung from the crook of its arm.

  Gale followed Owl’s gaze. “That’s Bobby!” He patted the statue’s head, and it emitted a hollow clang. “Isn’t he amazing?”

  Owl raised her eyebrows. “Yeah, Gale, he’s really cool. Just like you said he was.”

  “We should get going.” Trav eyed the piles of junk nearby. “Will you be okay?”

  “Oh, yeah. I’ll go over—over to my mom’s house pretty soon. I just need to sort through these things in my pack first.” He looked from his pack to them. “Thank you guys so much for everything. For—for letting me travel with you. And—and rescuing me. It was great.”

  Gale looked around the room, his gaze settling on a small red clock with a scratched plastic face. He picked it up and offered it to Owl.

  “That clock in the gas station wasn’t—wasn’t that great, but I really like this one. I think you—you guys should have it. As, as a gift.”

  Owl took the clock hesitantly, glancing at Trav. “Wow. Thanks, Gale. That’s really nice.”

  Trav smiled and nodded.

  “If you’re, ever, y’know, in—in Burr again, stop by and say hello!”

  Trav and Owl squeezed their way out of Gale’s shack, sharing an uncomfortable glance. He leaned into her. “Trashbilly.”

  Owl chuckled. “I’m glad he’s safe. I think he is, anyway. Who knows in that shack?” She ran her finger along the clock’s scratched cover and put it in her backpack.

  A small inn sat on the main street of town, sandwiched between a bar and a church. Two beds and a small dresser occupied their rented room, and someone’s idea of art hung on the walls.

  “I’m exhausted.” Trav slid into his bed. “And I’m probably going to have nightmares about Gale’s house tonight.”

  “You and me both.” Owl blew out one of the candles on the dresser and sat next to Trav. His bare, clean face floated like a ghost in the almost-dark. She touched the ring on her finger, stomach twisting.

  Tell him.

  Owl pulled in a breath and exhaled, “I love you.”

  Half a dozen emotions ran across Trav’s face all at once, then he grinned, gazing into her eyes. “I love you too. I love you too. I’ve been trying to say that to you, and I just couldn’t get the words out. I thought if I gave you that ring that I’d be able to tell you. That’s why I wanted you to have it. And then I froze up and felt like an idiot. I’m sorry. It’s just that I’ve never said that to a woman before. Never had a woman say that to me, either.” He swallowed and smiled.

  She sighed in relief, heart swelling. “I thought I did something wrong. Thought that I didn’t give you the reaction you wanted when you gave the ring to me. And if it means, ‘I love you,’ then I accept.”

  “You didn’t do anything wrong. I’ve just been upset with myself. But I feel a million pounds lighter now.” He grinned and held her gaze. “I’m glad you feel the same way.”

  Owl pressed her forehead to his. “I love you.” She kissed his soft lips tenderly as he wrapped his arms around her and squeezed her tightly.

  She pulled back, staring into his icy eyes.“You mean so much to me, and I don’t want to be without you. I can’t imagine being without you. I think I should come to Nis with you. It seems better than just following you down the coast and stopping. Winter’s army could keep spreading. We should be somewhere safe. Together.”

  His grin grew bigger. “Okay. Good. I think that’s a good idea. I don’t want to worry about you falling down hills without me there.”

  Owl laughed nervously, her heart rate increasing. “You look like you have a lot of room in that bed. Room for me?”

  Trav nodded slowly, then slid over and pulled back the sheets. “In my bed. In my heart. …Get over here.”

  I can do this.

  She started to remove her shirt, then hesitated. “I have more scars. Ones you haven’t seen yet.”

  “So do I.”

  Her hands grasped the hem of her shirt, frozen in place as she stared at him. He’s just as damaged as you are. Just in different ways. He’s… grappling with his past. Overcoming it. Just like you. With you.

  Does he take solace in me as I do with him? Do I make him more whole than he was before he knew me? I’m not the same person anymore. Not the woman I was when I left Waterton, or who I was when we first met. I’m not even the same person I was yesterday.

  Her mind stopped struggling as she pondered this revelation. She wanted to do this. Really wanted it.

  She studied his form for a moment longer: head propped up on one arm, blonde hair draping the bed and icy blue eyes watching her—those little crow’s feet at the corners—and that winding purple scar over the bridge of his nose.

  Her nerves vibrated, but it was a good nervous—an excited nervous. She pulled off her shirt and dropped it on the wood-planked floor. With shaking hands, she fumbled with the clasp of her bra, unhooking it and sliding it off.

  Trav’s lips parted, gaze drifting over her. He slipped off his boxers and socks, tossing them to the footboard. A chilly breeze blew through the cracked-open window, wobbling the candle flame and sending goosebumps along her exposed skin. She pulled down her jeans and panties, kicking them off.

  Owl climbed into the bed, heart racing. Trav tugged the covers up over her shoulder, then scooted closer, sliding his hands around her waist. He gazed into her eyes, and she pressed her mouth against his full lips. His body—strong and warm—pushed against her, the woodsy scent of his skin filling her senses. This wasn’t a dream. It was better. Reminders of her past had no business in this room.

  His hand slid down her back. “If you want to stop—”

  “I won’t.”

  “You’re so beautiful.” He wiped away an errant tear from her face with his thumb, then kissed her deeply and lovingly. Her tongue twisted with his, and nothing else mattered. She tangled her fingers into his hair and slipped the other hand between his legs. Trav buried his face in the crook of her neck, breath quickening.

  “I love you,” she murmured.

  “I love you too.”

  This is what comfort feels like.

  9 ~ Drones and Doctors ~

  December 15, 152—Now that we’ve finally had sex, I feel like a weight has lifted off me. That’s not to say it was easy, but it was worth it.

  December 16, 152—I’m so in love.

  December 19, 152—I dropped off my letter to Waterton’s postman today. I told him to send the reply to Nis. I almost threw the letter in the trash instead of the mailbox, believing that I didn’t want to know what happened. But I have to. Have to know what happened to my parents.

  The cold wind kicked up, blowing over the fields around them and jerking reeds and blades of grass back and forth. Trav’s hair swirled around him like a small cyclone, and Owl tied her own hair out of her face. Maybe there would be a storm. The area held little in the way of shelter, only a few trees and a train’s wreckage—twisted metal snarls, box cars, and engines derailed and crumpled in on themselves.

  A low s
ound, like bees deep inside her brain, cut through the wind. Trav stopped as soon as she did, looking around. A thin black disk hovered overhead. Strange white lettering graced the underside, and the air around the disk rippled with heat waves.

  Trav took out his spectacles and his sling.

  Owl’s eyes widened. “Trav—no.”

  He picked up a rock and fit it in the pouch. “Relax. There’s no one around.” He swung the sling rapidly and let go, the stone sailing through the air. It missed. The drone immediately changed course, whipping back around toward them. It hovered slowly, circling.

  Owl grabbed Trav’s arm. “Okay. No. Bad idea. Let’s get out of here.”

  “Why? Because it can see us? We already knew that.”

  Trav picked up a larger stone and put it in his sling. As he whipped the cord around for a second try, the drone said, “Please do not hit this drone. Is very expensive.”

  The sling fell slack in Trav’s hand. Owl shrank into his side. “Who are you? You can’t—you can’t really send another Collapse, right?”

  “Another what?” Static crackled. “I’m sorry, but my American is sucks. You want to talk more, we are right around corner. Come this way.” The disk floated slowly through the sky, headed for the crest of a grassy hill.

  Owl turned to Trav. “C’mon.”

  Trav tucked his sling in his belt. “You want to follow it? I thought you were scared.”

  “Yeah, but…” The drone shrank into the distance, looking like a tiny drop of ink in the sky. “I thought these things were coming from other countries. If it’s someone here—a real live person—I want to talk to them. Maybe they have answers that no one else can give me.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea. That drone has technology we don’t use or understand, and who knows what could be waiting on the other side of that hill? Could be guys with guns we’ve never even dreamed of. Or slavers. Or… Anything.”

  “I think we should go. I want to trust my instincts on this one.”

  Trav batted wind-blown hair from his face. “No offense, but your instincts are crap.”

  Owl frowned, the drone shrinking into a pinprick in the horizon’s gray clouds. “Then stay here. I’ll go. I won’t be long.” She left the road and cut through a field. Trav’s sandals whisked through the grass behind her.

  “This is a bad idea.”

  She stopped and turned around. “I grew up surrounded by all this trash of the Old World—abandoned buildings and rusty barbed wire and broken technology. There are objects I look at every day and I think, ‘what the hell is that thing?’ Confused every day by my own world. And no one has any answers. Or maybe they do, but won’t say so because of stupid superstition.” She pointed at the hill. “These people—whoever they are—have answers. They must.”

  “That doesn’t mean they’ll be friendly. Or that they’ll want to give you the information. They’ll want something in trade, surely.”

  “I have things to trade.” She turned for the hill again.

  “They’re not going to want your stitching needles and playing cards if they have drone technology.” Trav let out an exasperated sigh.

  She stopped again. “Are you coming with me or not?”

  He stood in place, looking at her, then pulled out his hatchet. “Shit. Can’t let you go by yourself.” He matched her pace as they neared the hill’s crest. “If you get us killed, I’m going to be very disappointed.”

  She shook her head. “How can you still make jokes when you’re angry?”

  “Talent.”

  Owl stopped at the top of the hill. Below sat a series of white trailers, arranged in a cluster inside a chain link fence perimeter. Afternoon sunlight glinted off the shiny—new—sides. Several small vehicles, also white, sat on one side of the trailer lot.

  “What is this?”

  “Okay, you’ve seen it. Time to go.” Trav tugged on her arm, and she shrugged his hand away.

  A man emerged from a trailer and hopped into a truck. It drove through the gate, heading in their direction. Owl’s eyes widened.

  “No. No. Let’s go. Right now.” Trav pulled at her arm again, fear filling his face.

  The truck sped toward them at a surprising speed, bouncing over rocks and divots in the field. It pulled alongside them and the man got out. Around Owl’s age, he sported a shaved head and wore shoes in an eye-searing orange. A loud striped shirt and jeans graced his skinny frame.

  He jerked a thumb at the truck. “Okay. Get in.”

  Trav grabbed Owl by the shoulders and pulled her back a step.

  “Hey, I’m nice guy. Look, I have no weapon.” The nasally words rolled off his tongue like a thick syrup. He opened his scrawny arms and turned in a circle. “You see? My name is Sasha. This is science facility. I run this drones. …The doctors want to meet you. You don’t want ride? Is okay. But please. We don’t want to hurt.”

  Owl’s mouth parted. “You run the drones?”

  “Yeah. You like drones?” He grinned. “Pretty cool, huh? I can show you up close if you want.” Sasha climbed back into the vehicle and rolled down the window. “Come, come. Please.” The truck whipped around, ripping up grass and field plants.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Trav muttered.

  “Doctors, Trav. Science. Working trucks. Did you see his shoes? And he didn’t even know what The Collapse was. I knew it was all superstition. I want to go talk to them. Come with me? Remember when we met Gale and I didn’t want him to come with us? But you gave him a chance, and he turned out to be nice. Extra-weird, but nice.”

  He sighed deeply then marched after the truck. Owl followed. When they reached the chain-link fence, Sasha stood at the gate, beckoning. Two men with weapons stood by, and two others, without them, waited between.

  “Hello!” The man was in his late forties, with sandy hair and mousy features. A small pair of spectacles sat on his nose and he leaned on a cane. He hobbled up to them, his hand outstretched. Owl folded her arms across her chest.

  “You needn’t be so afraid. We are friendly, I promise. My name is Dr. Artur Orlov. I’m an anthropologist studying the peoples here in America. This is my partner, Dr. Vadim Krupin, a viral epidemiologist.”

  The man next to Dr. Orlov nodded to them in acknowledgment but didn’t offer his hand. He smoothed his black hair, a frown creasing his face.

  “Uh, I’m Owl. This is Trav.”

  Trav clutched Owl’s arm protectively, his gaze darting from one man to the next, then to the guns in the guards’ hands. Sasha had lost interest in the exchange all together, leaning against the gate and fiddling with a black, rectangular device in his hand.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Dr. Orlov said. “And it’s quite rare when people are willing to talk to us. I’m sure that this facility seems very strange to you. We have all this set up here so that we can do our research.”

  “Studying Americans…” Owl said.

  “And North American Hemorrhagic Shock,” Dr. Krupin added.

  “What’s that?”

  The two doctors eyed each other. “Why, that’s what killed off most of the population of North and South America. The only people that live here now are resistant to the symptoms. If someone from another country arrived here, within a few hours they would be hemorrhaging from every orifice.”

  Dr. Krupin said, “That means their blood would come out from every hole.”

  Owl frowned. “That’s what The Collapse was? A disease?”

  “A virus,” Krupin replied. “It can lay dormant for a long time in air and on surfaces. And exists in carrier form in people that live here. We are from Russia and do not have native resistance.”

  “But then how are you guys standing out here in the open? Won’t it kill you?” Trav asked.

  “What is he saying?” Dr. Orlov asked, gesturing to Trav.

  “What do you mean? He’s speaking American, like me. You can’t understand him?” Owl asked.

  “I’m afraid not.” Orl
ov took a step closer to Trav and peered into his face. Trav leaned back uncomfortably. “I have not had the chance to study the dialects of the American islands. It sounds like a foreign language to me. You can understand what I say, though, yes?”

  Trav nodded warily. Owl said, “He asked you how you two can stand out here in the open. Won’t you get the virus?”

  “No,” Krupin replied. “We have an experimental vaccine. It works, but there are… side effects. Dr. Orlov did not always have to use this cane. I now suffer from horrible migraines and have weak use of my left hand. More research must be done.”

  “How did you guys even get here? Where is Russia? Is it… in The South? Or across the ocean?”

  “We arrived in a plane from across the ocean. I know you have questions, and I’m happy to answer them, but I would like it to be a mutual exchange of information. I have questions too. For my research. I think trading knowledge will benefit us both. Would you like to come inside?” Dr. Orlov gestured to the trailers behind them.

  Trav’s face was unexpectedly contemplative. “Ask them what they can see with those drones. Can they see what’s happening in the Northwest?”

  Owl translated. Dr. Orlov opened his mouth, but Sasha pushed off the metal fence pole and said, “Is horrible mess up there. You want to show video? I record everything.”

  Dr. Orlov sighed like a tired parent, but said nothing as Sasha gesticulated in the air over the hazy light projections streaming from his device. He held up the screen.

  An aerial view appeared. Trav took a step back, blinking. Owl leaned forward, squinting at the miniature ravaged landscape. Charred husks of homes and blackened stubbly fields filled the screen. Bodies, pieces of bodies, and livestock lay along the ground. Owl thought of her parents, stomach churning, then pushed away from Trav, vomiting into the dirt.