Year One

by Nora Roberts

  justice to enact consequences for the breaking of said laws, raise your hand.”

  He nodded. “As it’s clearly more than two hundred for, which is the majority, the vote carries for the structure of laws. Eddie, Fred, would you mind passing out the lists so people can read what’s being proposed?”

  As they went to hand a stack for each row to pass down, Rove shoved his way forward, snatched a paper from Eddie’s hands, crumpled it, tossed it down.

  “Dude, don’t be such a dick.”

  Eyes fired up, Rove jerked his arm back, fist balled. He punched it at Eddie’s face, where it rammed two inches away. The fire died to shock, frustration. Then disgust.

  “I knew you were one of them.”

  “He’s not.” Lana got to her feet. “Not in the way you mean. I blocked your punch, Mr. Rove,” she continued as she walked down. “Because I’m not going to let you bully and physically assault a friend.”

  “Aw, Lana, I can handle myself.”

  She patted Eddie’s shoulder. “I know it. Go ahead and pass out the stacks.” As Eddie moved on, Lana stepped into his place.

  She tapped a finger in the air in front of Rove’s fist. He rolled his shoulder, dropped his arm.

  “Would you like to take a swing at me, Mr. Rove?” Without looking around, she held up a hand as Max pushed to his feet. “Or are you going to leave it with insults and bigotry?”

  She knew hate when he stood in front of her, and could read through that hate, the humiliation that stained it, just how much he wished to hurt her. And just how much he feared her.

  Several more people rose as he stood, his fist still balled at his side and trembling there. Some moved to stand beside her, behind her.

  “Go home, Kurt,” Manning advised, and gently drew Lana back. “Go home and cool off.”

  Rove turned on his heel, strode toward the back. Of the fourteen who’d raised a hand with him for the nay vote, only nine walked out with him.

  “You got balls,” Manning told Lana. “If you don’t mind me saying so.”

  “I don’t mind, since I haven’t had them very long.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  For a week, then two, as May blended into June, New Hope built.

  A greenhouse, a smokehouse, a picnic area behind the gardens. Twice people wandered in—a group of three, another of five.

  With power restored, Chuck combined his brand of magic with Max’s to bring the Internet on line. It was slow and spotty dial-up, supported only a handful of what they’d designated as priority locations, but it added another layer of hope.

  Many with missing loved ones lined up daily at the new town library to send e-mails and check religiously for any response.

  Even though none came, hope lived.

  Though Chuck continued his quest, communication with the outside world remained a void. Arlys might not have been able to surf the Web, but she had the software to publish the Bulletin without hammering at the old Underwood.

  And Max wrote.

  Jonah quietly moved into Rachel’s bedroom.

  The gardens flourished, and if they benefited from a little magickal help, no one complained.

  “It feels like we found balance.” Lana sat on her front porch—in a chair painted a cheerful red—and enjoyed sun tea and a sugar cookie from the batch she’d made with her share of supplies.

  Arlys sat with her, as she often did at the end of the day.

  “It’s like an idyll,” she continued. “And this is from the lifelong city dweller. We’ve got fresh cherries, grapes—”

  “Which makes you think yeast.”

  “I also think tarts and jams and jellies. We’re already getting some tomatoes, some vegetables, lovely fresh lettuce and greens. Bill hauled two cases of Mason jars and lids to the kitchen. I’m watching corn grow, which is amazing to this lifelong urbanite. Rachel said the baby is perfect—and over a pound now. I swear she feels a lot heavier, then I imagine swallowing a pound of sugar, and see the correlation.”

  On a contented sigh, she stroked her belly. “Speaking of yeast, we made and dried some. And thanks to Chuck I don’t have to write recipes out until my hand cramps. Plus, Rove and the Mercers and that pissy Sharon Beamer haven’t caused any trouble since the public meeting.”

  “Give them time.”

  “Oh, no spoiling my happy mood. There’s Will.” Lana waved a hand, signaling him over. “How are things going there?”

  “Going where?”

  “With you and Will?” Deliberately Lana wiggled her eyebrows. “I’ve felt some definite vibes.”

  “Your vibes are off. We’re just friends, with a shared childhood history.” Arlys took a sip of her wine, watched Will cross the street. “But he is nice to look at.”

  “Ladies.”

  “We’re out of beer,” Lana told him. “But we’ve got wine.”

  “I wouldn’t mind some. We’re just back—hunting party.”

  “Don’t tell me I’m going to be making more venison sausage.”

  “It’s good stuff.”

  “Oh well. I’ll get you a glass.”

  “Sit,” Arlys ordered. “I’ll get it. Pound of sugar,” she added as she got up, went inside.

  “Pound of sugar?”

  Lana tapped her baby mound. “Have a cookie.”

  “Wouldn’t mind that, either.” He took one, bit in. Shut his eyes. “Oh man, that’s really good. You could make a living.”

  “Those were the days.”

  Arlys came out with the glass, poured him one. Will leaned back against the fence post. He glanced back as three deer trotted down Main Street.

  “It’s a good thing Fred thought of putting that invisible fence around the gardens,” he commented. “We don’t have to go more than half a mile to bag a deer.”

  “Also good we approved the town ordinance against deploying a firearm within town limits,” Arlys added. “Or we’d end up with more windows being shot out by accident.”

  “You got that. We’re thinking of invading Rachel’s place tonight for some DVD roulette. Are you in?”

  Arlys raised her brows. “Who are ‘we’?”

  “Dad and me—and Chuck if we can pull him out of the basement—a few others. They’ve got that big screen and the player. Entry fee’s a snack or beverage.”

  “I could be in,” Arlys said, smiling at him. He really was nice to look at, she thought as Lana got up and walked to the other side of the steps. “What about you, Lana? An evening of DVD roulette sound appealing?”

  “Something’s coming. It all changes. Something’s coming. It always was. Something’s coming. It ends. It begins.”

  Will stepped toward her, then rushed to her as she swayed.

  “Hey, hey, hey.” He shoved his glass at Arlys and steadied Lana.

  “I’m all right. Just got dizzy.”

  “I’ll get Rachel. I’ll find Max.”

  “No, no, I just got dizzy. I’m fine.”

  “I’m getting Rachel,” Arlys insisted, and bolted across the street.

  “Here.” Will carried her to the chair, set her down. “What’s this?”

  “Ah, sun tea.”

  “Okay, that’s probably good. Drink a little. You really went pale. What’s coming?”

  “I don’t know.” She laid a hand on the baby. “It was just this feeling of inevitability. And sorrow. I practice, but not as much as I should. I don’t know how to control or interpret as much as I should.”

  Rachel, in a T-shirt and cargo shorts, crossed the street at a fast clip. “What’s all this?”

  “I just had a moment,” Lana said as Rachel took her pulse. “It came and went. I feel fine.”

  “Your pulse is rapid.”

  “It scared me. It was one of the feelings I get. They just cover me. I don’t know how to explain. They pour out of me and saturate me. It’s not physical. Not in the usual way.”

  “I’ll find Max.”

  “Oh, don’t.” As he stepped back, Lana
pleaded with Will. “Don’t worry him. I’m fine.”

  “He’d kick my ass—and I’d have to help him do it—if I didn’t go get him.”

  “All right, all right. I can’t be responsible for you and Max both kicking your ass. Rachel, really, you just examined me and the baby this morning. I know what it was—it’s not medical, and it passed.”

  She took Rachel’s hand, then Arlys’s. “Something’s coming, and soon. That’s all I know for certain.”

  “‘It all changes,’” Arlys repeated. “‘It ends. It begins.’”

  “Did I say that? It’s a little like being outside myself. Or inside. I’m not a seer.” She looked down at her belly. “But she might be. I can’t see what she sees. I just feel it.”

  She heard the sound of running feet, but saw Chuck not Max rushing along the sidewalk.

  “I got something!” He waved the paper he held, jogging onto the porch. “Contact. Sort of.”

  “Internet contact?” Arlys snatched the paper out of his hand before he’d caught his breath.

  ATTENTION ALL GOD-FEARING HUMANS

  If you are reading this, you are one of the chosen. No doubt you have lost those dear to you and have felt, may still know, despair. No doubt you have witnessed firsthand the abominations that have desecrated the world Our Lord created. You may believe the End Times are upon us.

  But take heart!

  You are not alone!

  Have Faith!

  Have Courage!

  We who survived this demonic plague wrought by Satan’s Children face A Great Test! Only we can defend our world, our lives, our very souls. Arm yourselves and join The Holy Crusade. Will you stand by while our women are raped, our children mutilated, while the very survival of humanity is threatened by the ungodly, by The Uncanny? The future of the Human Race is in our hands. To save it we must soak them in the blood of the demon.

  Gather together, Chosen Warriors! Hunt, Kill, Destroy the EVIL that threatens us. “Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live,” so sayeth The Lord. This is the time of retribution! This is the time of The Slaughter! This is the time of

  The Purity Warriors!

  I am with you. I am of you. I am filled with the light of righteous vengeance.

  Reverend and Commander Jeremiah White

  “Bad copy,” Arlys managed. “Overwrought and fucking terrifying.”

  “Purity Warriors.” Lana gripped the porch rail. “Flynn said he finally got Starr to talk a little more. The gang who killed her mother called themselves Purity Warriors, and had tattoos. Crossed swords with a P and a W under the X.”

  “I know. Just like I know this Jeremiah.” Arlys handed the paper back to Chuck. “He was already stirring up calls for bloodshed back in January, in the early weeks of the Doom.”

  “He’s got a rudimentary site up,” Chuck told them. “I stumbled on it while I hunted for communications. There’s more. He’s uploaded some photos—they’re pretty graphic. And he’s got one up of the tattoo you’re talking about. He calls it the Mark of the Chosen. Bat shit, man. Sick and bat shit. He claims he’s working on putting up a message board. I hacked in, and he’s got more than two hundred hits. Less than fifty individuals, so people go back, check the site again.”

  “Fifty’s not many,” Arlys murmured. “But…”

  “It says we’re not the only ones with power and Internet,” Chuck finished.

  “We wouldn’t be the only ones appalled by the sick and the bat shit,” Arlys commented. “But…”

  “Some will revel in it.” Eyes grim, Rachel nodded. “Including a handful in New Hope. Could you tell when he is, or was, posting? Where the site’s based?”

  “I think he’s mobile—adds more scary because I don’t know how he could be. Still, now that I found it, I can monitor it. Everything else I’ve found, so far, is pre-Doom. It’s stuff that’s been up since before it all fell down. But if there’s one—the bat shit—there’s going to be more.”

  He broke off as Max pulled up to the curb in a truck. Max got out one side, Will the other.

  “I’m fine,” Lana said quickly.

  “Will said you fainted.”

  She aimed a frustrated look at Will. “I got a little dizzy.”

  He cupped her face, studied it. “You had a vision?”

  “No, not … It’s hard to explain. I think the baby did, and it somehow filtered through me.”

  “You’re connected physically,” Rachel pointed out. “Your health, the baby’s. I don’t know anything about this other side of things, really, but it seems to me that connection could go there.”

  “It’s not the first time,” Max concurred. “Could it harm her?”

  “I’d say driving’s out.”

  Appalled, Lana stared. She’d learned to love driving. “Come on!”

  “I’m going to side with the doctor,” Arlys said. “You went off, Lana. You were somewhere else. I’d give a pass on driving, operating heavy equipment,” she added, trying to lighten the blow.

  “You’re a terrible driver anyway.” Max kissed her forehead.

  “You’ll pay for that later, but we’ve got more to worry about. Chuck?”

  As Chuck handed the paper to Max, began to explain, Lana sat again, thought again. No risks, she decided. Whatever affected her, affected the baby.

  And apparently vice versa.

  Rachel poured out more sun tea. “Hydrate. And I want to know if you have more dizzy spells. If you have any unusual feelings, physical or otherwise. There’s no point stressing over what Chuck found. One fanatic, and a very big country.”

  “That helps, but as we said, we have a handful right here who might, probably would, take up that call.”

  “Most aren’t here.” Max reread the paper. “Mike and I went out to check on Rove. Just take a look. He’s pulled out, and so have the Mercers, along with Sharon Beamer, Brad Fitz, Denny Wertz.”

  “That explains why we haven’t seen them around in the past few days.” Arlys nodded. “And they haven’t picked up any supplies or reported for any details. Well, it doesn’t hurt my feelings.”

  “I’m glad they’re gone,” Lana said. “I’ll sleep easier knowing they are.”

  “It also explains why we’re two trucks shy,” Max went on. “Twenty gallons of gas, food supplies. Weapons. That’s why we went out to check.” He ran an absent hand down Lana’s arm while he scanned the street. “Still, I imagine most would consider that loss a win against having them moving on.”

  “Meanwhile, I’m going back down, see if I can find somebody else who’s back online.” Chuck pulled his fingers through his scraggly beard. “Hitting the downer button here, but figuring all the techs and hackers in the world before the Doom, and how I’m getting all but zilch on the surf?” His shoulders lifted and fell. “You gotta do the math, right? You gotta figure more than fifty percent—a lot more than fifty—wiped out in the Doom.

  “Anyway.” He let that trail off, then wandered away.

  “He’s right.” Max stroked his hand—comfort, reassurance—up and down Lana’s arm. “We can judge that by what we all saw getting here, and by the fact that the number of people coming in to stay or even to pass through has trickled down to nothing in the last two weeks or so.”

  “It makes building and maintaining our own even more important,” Arlys put in. “Law, order, education, water, and food supplies.”

  “Security,” Max added. “A big world, one fanatic,” he repeated. “But one with followers. Add Raiders, Dark Uncannys. Whatever outside laws and government might still exist doesn’t reach here. And whatever outside laws and government might exist? We don’t know who or what might be in charge of it. So we have to protect our own.”

  “I agree. I agree with all that,” Rachel said, hands in her pockets, looking out at the street. At the peace. “We’ve made a lot of progress in a short amount of time. Even having the framework of a system of rules, of community responsibilities has given people a foundation. Maybe, having those
who don’t want that foundation—like Rove—leaving adds to it. It is a big world, and we’ve got the chance to make this part of it safe and solid.”

  “It has to be more than rules and responsibilities. We’re alive.” Lana laid a hand on her child as she stirred. “So many of us have been grieving, even while doing what has to be done.” She looked at Will. “So many of us lost pieces of ourselves. But we found pieces, too. Found things inside ourselves we didn’t know were there. We’re alive,” she repeated. “Maybe it’s time to celebrate that. It’s nearly the solstice.”

  Max smiled at her. “The longest day. A time for celebrating.”

  “Yes, and some of us will. I think it may be too soon—only a few days away—for a full community celebration. We need more time to plan that, and I think that’s just what we need.”

  “Fourth of July was always my favorite holiday growing up.”

  Arlys turned, smiled at Will. “I remember. Barbecue, marching bands, hot dogs, and fireworks.”

  “My mom’s cherry pie.”

  “I fondly remember your mom’s cherry pie.”

  “A New Hope–style Independence Day. We’ve got like three weeks to set it up,” Will pointed out. “And the setting up will get people juiced up, right?”

  “The all-American holiday.” Arlys cocked her head. “Food, games, crafts, music, dancing. I like it. I really like it.”

  “We could start the day with a memorial for those we’ve lost.” Lana reached for Max’s hand. “To honor friends and family who aren’t with us. And end the day in celebration.”

  “Now I like it even more. I’m going to work on a Bulletin,” Arlys decided. “I’ll get it out today.”

  “I’ve got a couple of ideas on that,” Will told Arlys. “I’ll walk down with you. This is a good thing, Lana. It’s a good thing.”

  “I’ll go give Jonah the heads-up. Will’s right.” Rachel tapped Lana’s arm. “This is a good thing.”

  Alone on the porch with Lana, Max sat looking out on the town. “You’re happy here? It’s just us,” he said before she could answer.

  “It’s not the life I ever imagined for us. And there are still times I wake up expecting to be in the loft. There’s a lot I miss. Just walking home in the noise and the crowds. I remember how we’d just started to talk about taking a couple of weeks and going to Italy or France. I remember, and I miss. But yes, I’m happy here. I’m with you, and in a few months, we’ll have a daughter. We’re alive, Max. You got us out of a nightmare and brought us here.

  “Are you? Happy here?”

  “It’s not the life I imagined, either, and there’s a lot I miss. But I’m with you. We’re having a child. We’re both able to do work that satisfies us, and have powers we’re both still learning to understand. There’s a purpose. We’re alive, and there’s a purpose. We’ll celebrate that.”

  * * *

  The day of the festival dawned soft and pink.

  Lana spent the beginning of it, as she had the day before, in food prep with her kitchen team. She focused in on her area, leaving the decorations—with Fred leading that charge—to others.

  She’d made countless patties of venison and wild turkey while listening to