by SL Hulen
“Are you certain?”
“He must have planned to meet Elias here.”
“Perhaps he’s been here all along.”
Victoria shook her head. “I doubt it. He’s only guessing that we’re here; otherwise he wouldn’t have left.”
“Or Kingsford frightened him. Mieley plays a game of nerves with us,” Khara whispered defiantly.
“He’s coming back,” Victoria stated through chattering teeth. “If we stay, we’re dead. Wait here. If I’m not back in twenty minutes, take a horse and leave without me.” She spoke with a small but determined fire in her voice, and although Khara knew it was a temporary stay of grief, her heart rejoiced. Sixteen minutes passed. She was tempted to try to spot Kingsford Charcoal through the window, but the intruder might see her, so Khara stayed where she was, battling the notion that she had made a huge mistake by letting Victoria leave. By now, they could have taken the horses and been out of sight and impossible to follow, except on foot.
The spur dug at the flesh between her knuckles. When she touched the cavity with her tongue, she tasted blood. She concentrated on the image of Father Donato lighting a candle for her, repeating the rosary he had taught her until at last her fear began to recede. When she heard tires moving on gravel, she crept cautiously outside.
A long, slow-moving shadow approached in the darkness. “Get in,” Victoria said softly.
“How did you manage it? Celeste always kept the garage locked.”
“There are a few things you don’t know about me yet.” The green leather of the seat creaked as Khara jumped in.
“Think about it,” Victoria continued. “They focused almost entirely on the inside of the house and barely gave the garage a look. By the time anyone notices it’s missing, we’ll be long gone. You know what this means, don’t you?”
“Is this another of your rhetorical questions?”
“We’ve added auto theft to our list of crimes. Well, technically two crimes—breaking and entering and auto theft.”
Khara pointed to a moving shadow. “Kingsford wants us to follow him.”
They did not head for the farm’s main road, which ended at the entrance to the highway. The cat led them to a side road, one used for bringing in cattle from the hay fields. There, the cats of the Square-4 ranch waited in a neat line at the gate to blink their goodbyes.
At last, they were on their way. A sudden flash of nerves caused her to turn abruptly and stare past the house and into the trees, wondering if Mieley was watching. A shiver passed between her shoulder blades and for some time after they left the Square-4 Ranch, Khara alternated between looking in the small rectangular mirror on her visor and the rearview mirror to satisfy herself that he had not followed them.
Driving without lights reminded her of the times when she and Menefra had taken to the garden’s pool in the middle of the night. Unconsciously, she pulled open the neck of her sweater and tucked the memory of Oliver’s sweet breath and gliding hips inside Nandor’s pouch, next to her heart.
Victoria pulled several sheets of paper from her pocket and handed them to her.
“What’s this?”
“Celeste’s will. She left it in the cabin.”
“What does it say?”
“Mostly it confers her wishes regarding her estate. She left more to Chris and Lila than in the previous version, and she even had it witnessed and notarized.”
“When?”
“Three days ago. She made me executor of her estate, and gave instructions that the Square-4 cannot be parceled off or significantly changed in any way.”
“If she knew she was going to die, couldn’t she have taken action to prevent it?”
“Only Celeste could answer that; the point is that she knew. Can you think of anything worse?”
“Or anyone braver,” Khara added as she looked away, determined not to draw attention to the tears that ran down her cheek.
“Elias is going to burn in hell, and I’m going to make sure of it.”
“And what of the forgiveness you’re always lecturing me about?”
“Screw that.”
Ben was right; the spirits play the most wicked games at our expense.”
Chapter Forty-four Victoria
The first town they passed was Three Rivers, an insignificant place with one exception; petroglyphs—more than twenty thousand of them—dating back to 900 AD., she had seen many of the humans, plants, birds, insects, and strange geometric designs firsthand on one of her uncle’s pottery safaris. The memory elicited a tired smile and Victoria surrendered to a vision of herself and Elias almost twenty years earlier.
“This is totally unfair!” She had only recently perfected her teenage wail, a sound halfway between a shriek and a command. Victoria had planned to spend the summer before high school at the neighborhood rec center.
“No daughter of mine is going to be deprived of seeing the most important petroglyph site in the Southwest!” Elias thundered back.
“Deprived? Exiled to the middle of nowhere is more like it!”
“Where is your respect for your elders, niña?” he had countered softly. “Like it or not, it’s been decided.” He ruffled her hair; a gesture that at the time had infuriated her. “You can spend the rest of the summer watching boys at the pool.”
Secretly, she hadn’t minded so much. The thought of wearing a bathing suit in public—or worse, in front of boys—had mortified her. And the group of so-called girlfriends at the rec center? She never got chosen for volleyball (even with her formidable serve) or invited for sleepovers. She didn’t yet have a friend like Bea.
That man flailing and kicking inside the police car was not her uncle. If she saw him now, would his eyes be that of a stranger? When had her beloved tío’s soul perished? What sliced at her heart was that she had been so busy with the aspirations of complete strangers that she hadn’t even noticed.
When she made up her mind to think of something else, she caught Khara eyeing the Jeep’s instrumentation. “How does it work?”
“This,” Victoria said, tapping a dial, “measures our speed.”
“How?”
“By gauging miles per hour. How many miles an hour can a horse travel?”
“That would depend on the horse.”
“Understood. For this exercise, though, we’re looking for an average.”
“A chariot with two riders might cover as much as six river measures in a single day—more if the horses are in good condition or the animal’s survival is of no consequence.”
Victoria saw that she had opened a can of worms. “I have no idea how to convert that.”
“If my conversion is correct, approximately forty miles per day.”
“Okay. We’re traveling that speed every hour.”
“No wonder I often find myself so confused. My world travels one tenth as fast as yours.”
“See, the numbers indicate the rate of speed.”
“Ah…” She grew quiet. “Then may I assume that speed is determined by dividing distance by time?”
Victoria found herself discovering another of Khara’s aptitudes. “I had no idea you were such a student of science, but yes, you’re correct.”
“Egyptians are rather like the Germans in their love of accuracy and mathematical formulas. Do you know what the rate of travel is for the sky-ships?”
“I don’t, but maybe as much as ten times faster.”
“Yes, I see. Such a large, heavy craft would require enormous speed to lift away from the ground.”
“Don’t ask me what the formula for that one is.”
“The other night, I watched a program about Einstein. He suggested that the concept of time and space were relative to the speed of the observer. Wouldn’t that change the reality of travel for each person? That makes more sense to me. Still, it leaves many unanswered questions.” She smiled absently and watched the white lines on the road blend together.
Khara was often quiet for long periods of time.
Victoria had an idea of the things that filled her mind and let her be. She had never known this sort of companionship. There were still times when the long silences between them felt like a rough wool sweater against her skin, yet she pictured the two of them as old women, peeling potatoes they had grown themselves. By then she would have learned to ride, and they might even have a couple of horses. She would be the adored great-aunt of Khara and Oliver’s grandchildren. Most likely they would have separate residences that overlooked a city—maybe not one as large as El Paso, but definitely larger than Ruidoso. It was the kind of daydreaming Victoria rarely allowed herself, and when she checked the mirror, she saw a dumb smile on her face.
“Turn around,” Khara commanded with a shrill edge.
“Why?”
“That marker we just passed—please, I need to get out.”
The brakes screeched, and Victoria threw the Jeep in reverse. It seemed routine enough—a highway sign reading, “Three Rivers Petroglyph Site: One-quarter Mile.” But it was the small, abstract glyph underneath the directions that had captured Khara’s attention. Nothing about the design seemed unusual; the intricate, close-set pattern of small circles formed a rounded square, and smaller dots radiated in pinwheel fashion from a circular hub. Victoria thought it had a rather modern look to it.
“What about it?”
Khara walked around the sign twice before returning to the passenger seat, proclaiming, “Nandor continues to guide us.”
Now there would be no turning her back. A sarcastic sigh passed Victoria’s lips. “Really. You got all that from a highway sign?”
The veil of fanaticism had already fallen over Khara’s eyes. “It’s impossible for you to know, but this design, exactly as you see it here, was one of the scars above Nandor’s brow. I tell you, this is no coincidence.”
Upon closer inspection of the glyph, insignificant and meant only to hint at the historical mysteries ahead, Victoria sensed something ominous and familiar. “Now what?”
“We continue our journey as planned. This is his way of telling us we are on the correct path.”
“Well, I certainly feel better now.”
“You realize that your sarcasm demonstrates a certain sense of insecurity,” she said, frowning. “Why do you continually deny that which you know to be true? You’ll see soon enough— something wonderful awaits us in the City of Faith.”
Victoria instantly regretted her cynical tongue as Khara leaned back in the seat, waiting for the clouds to part. Given the late hour, however, the clouds had no better destination and lingered stubbornly. There would be no stargazing tonight and, judging from Khara’s peeved expression, no more talk.
With only the sound of the tires grating along the rough road or the occasional jolt of a pothole to actively capture her attention in the absence of conversation, Victoria’s eyes grew heavy. Despite her desperate fatigue and the events of the day, she pushed on, driving without thought of the life she had left behind. She drove by instinct, in search of that place where her mother still greeted her each morning with a kiss before braiding her hair. It was as if she had never done anything but drive. The white noise of the engine, the empty road, melted everything into nothingness.
Suddenly, the Jeep pulled hard to the left, into what would have been oncoming traffic. She swerved, overcorrecting to the right and almost driving off the shoulder. Had it not been the middle of the night and the middle of nowhere, they might have been killed, but some strange sort of luck had protected them again.
The look Khara shot her was not the accusatory one Victoria knew she deserved. “Are you all right?” she asked, motioning Victoria to pull over.
“Sorry. I must have drifted off,” Victoria mumbled as she shut off the engine.
“Perhaps you would let me try for a while.”
“It’s all right, I’m wide awake now. Besides, you don’t have a license.”
“Another of your meaningless details. The road is quite deserted, and you are beyond exhaustion, Victoria. Either we rest here or you allow me to continue.”
The passenger door was flung open, and she found herself being pushed across the seat and into the space still warm from Khara’s slight body.
“Just for a few minutes.”
Khara wasted not a second settling in. She tilted her head slightly as she studied the instrument panel. Running her hand lightly around the steering wheel, she admitted, “I have been wanting to try my hand at this!” Then she turned the engine and revved it hard. “Mmm. So this is how the great beast comes to life.” Put into drive, the Jeep lurched herky-jerky across the yellow lines of the shoulder. It veered in and out of the lane a few times, but Khara straightened it out and continued west.
Not bad for her first time behind the wheel, Victoria thought, struggling to keep her eyes open. Not bad at all…
Sometime later, a soft moan pulled her from a half-sleep. “What is it?” she asked, panicked.
The Jeep had slowed to a crawl. Her first thought was that Khara’s driving had not been as good as she’d thought. Where were they? Had they crashed? She looked around. Maybe they were dead and in purgatory, awaiting eternal damnation. She held up her hand and wiggled each finger. Nope, she was still alive.
In all her treks with Elias, she had never seen anything like this. The narrow highway cut through a sea of solidified ooze that cast hair-raising shadows as far as the eye could see. Misshapen mounds of melted rock stretched for miles. A single patch of pigweed rising through a crack in the road’s shoulder was the only trace of greenery—there was not a tree, not a bush, nothing. A thin, flat layer of clouds filled the sky. A puny breeze, lacking the strength of a legitimate wind and devoid of scent, stirred occasionally. This was a landscape for ghouls, an uncanny visualization of purgatory. Melancholia surrounded them, yet she found it strangely comforting. The sorrow that Victoria had worn like a second skin for so long had finally brought her here. One look at Khara’s face confirmed this was not one of her dark dreams, the kind that left her bewildered and jittery for the rest of the day, and sometimes questioning her sanity. Yet for all its gruesome features, she found peace in the midst of this desolation. She had arrived at the place where nightmares live.
“I think it’s safe to say we’ve officially entered the Jornada del Muerto,” Victoria announced.
Khara murmured, “What could have caused such devastation?”
“Volcanoes. Remember? You asked about them while you were thumbing through the encyclopedias at the apartment. This area was once full of them.”
“There is a morbid majesty that one cannot help but admire. Is this a sacred place?”
“Hardly.”
“Incredible. Surely this is the heart of what you refer to as ‘local superstition.’ And by the way,” she continued, eyeing Victoria with a half-smile, “Celeste recounted the incident at Roswell in its entirety. It seems that you left a great many details out of your version, counselor.
“What, the attorney has nothing to say?” she asked, laughing. “Don’t you see? Each of these coincidences is but wind in our sail. You will see, Victoria. At Urraca Mesa, the great spear of time will be hurled in the opposite direction, and I will go home. With every day that passes, I am more certain of it.”
It was useless to argue. Victoria concentrated on Khara’s driving, which was remarkable to the point of being irritating. “How much farther to Santa Fe?”
“More than two hours.” A lone drop of water crashed on the windshield, followed by another. A gray shadow hovered overhead; otherwise, the sky was the immortal indigo of the Southwestern morning. Victoria rolled up the window and waited. Soon, deafening spatters hit the windshield. Gripping the wheel tightly, the muscles in Khara’s jaw tightened.
“There will be more cars on the road now. I’ll take it from here.”
Quickly, Khara relinquished the wheel; Victoria could not tell if she did it begrudgingly or not. She wore an expression that told nothing.
They got as fa
r as Mountainaire. There, Victoria traded a thin stack of twenties for a quiet place to shut out the world for a while. In a motel room, about which she would later recall nothing, she sank into a sleep of tangled images—Elias standing over Celeste’s corpse, wiping his brow with a linen handkerchief Marta had embroidered in maroon silk thread. He sensed her watching and turned to laugh at her, his eyes the color of quicksilver, as expressionless as death. She awoke frightened and confused.
Khara was sitting in front of the window, a halo of blue-grey light illuminating her black hair and sweater. She shifted her attention between the parking lot and the television, the volume of which was turned to near silence. Victoria could barely make out a male, monotone voice.
“Another science program?”
“The effects of atmospheric and barometric pressure on weather.”
“Gripping. How long was I asleep?”
“A good part of the day. Better knowledge of the weather insinuates that more grain could be produced by each setat of land. Reliable food is at the root of a nation’s stability. Excesses could be traded.” Her voice faded and she did not turn around.
After a few moments, she walked to the bed and brushed back the hair plastered against Victoria’s forehead. “When I try to sleep, I realize how much there is to learn and how little time I have left. Besides, one of us should always keep watch now.” Looking Victoria dead in the eye, she continued, “You know as well as I that Mieley is set to finish Elias’s terrible work. We should have given him the bracelet when we had the chance. I hoped you might sleep a while longer, but now that you are awake, we should leave.”
Chapter Forty-five Khara
Red mud clung to the Jeep in thick, shaggy chunks, especially around the wheel wells. The dark olive exterior was now well-camouflaged and Khara thought it resembled the mythical buffalo far more than it did any contrivance of man. Victoria insisted on leaving it in a well-concealed lot not far from Old Town Plaza.
“What are you doing now?” she demanded, a deep furrow showing on her brow as she squinted against the late afternoon sun.
