The Journey is Our Home

by Kathy Miner

  Piper looked over at Reggie. “May I fire a few shots? I haven’t used this shotgun lately.”

  “Mmm, such pretty manners. Just what a man likes.” He rearranged himself in his pants, and probably thought he was being subtle about it. “Sure, honey, go right ahead.”

  He handed her two shells and nodded at her weapon. “A double-barrel 12 gauge is a lot of gun for a woman.” His voice dropped lower. “But I’ll bet you can handle a lot of gun, can’t you sweetheart? I bet you like ‘em big and hard to handle.”

  Piper slid the shells into the over-under barrels and wondered how many times she would have to not answer him before he got tired of talking. “I’ll sight in on those trees.”

  She didn’t wait for his nod, bringing the shotgun to her shoulder in a smooth motion and firing. She nearly wept at the familiar sensation, the reassurance and comfort of it, the explosion of memories that went with the sight, feel, and sound of this gun. This was the weapon Jack carried, true, but he did so because it was hers. Her father had given her this gun, and her mother had taught her to use it. As Jack freely pointed out, he would never be a marksman; he carried the shotgun as a backup weapon for Piper, and she sent a silent blessing to far-away Martin for suggesting it.

  She fired another shot, ejected the spent shells, then held her hand out. “Two more, please.”

  Reggie deposited the shells in her palm, and she fired two more shots in quick succession. She turned to face him, and noticed that the shots had silenced the crowd. A quick count told her most of the town was accounted for, except for those who were ill. Trent had arrived, and was standing with Reggie’s cronies. When his eyes met hers, a pink flush swept from his neck to his hairline. At his side, his fingers lifted in a shy little wave before he turned to Reggie. His expression was noticeably cooler as he nodded his permission for them to begin.

  Reggie nodded in return, then looked at Piper. “Twenty five shots.” He leaned close, bathing her face with his foul, moist breath. “Winner takes all.”

  She kept her expression bland. “And if we tie?”

  “Well, then, we shoot another round. We shoot until somebody wins or we run out of skeet.” He gestured her forward, all courtly-like. “Ladies first.”

  Piper stepped forward, and closed her eyes for a moment. She reminded herself that she was her mother’s daughter, and for good measure, warmed the bond between her heart and Naomi’s. “Sure wish you were shooting instead of me, mama,” she whispered. “Help my eyes and hands do what I need to do.”

  Naomi’s presence circled around her, warm with love, vibrating with worry. Piper sent back a reassurance, and Naomi’s energy settled into a steady warmth in the center of her chest, joining the peaceful golden glow Gideon’s touch had left her with.

  Piper opened her eyes and smiled. “Pull.”

  They shot the first round to a tie. Then another. And another. After that, Piper lost track. From every angle, every possible configuration, even two at a time, and neither of them missed. They took a short break for water and a moment to cool themselves in the shade. Reggie’s face was bright red from the sun, but the sweat that stained his armpits was all nerves; Piper could smell the sour tang of it. As they returned to the mark, one of the men held up two clay pigeons. “Last two, Reg.”

  Piper looked over at Reggie, and nodded. “After you.”

  He didn’t argue – he’d left chivalry behind long ago. He stepped up to the mark and blew the clay to smithereens. He couldn’t quite summon a smirk when he turned to face her, but his shoulders relaxed. She couldn’t beat him now. At the very worst, this would end in a tie. Piper took his place and lifted her shotgun to the ready. “Pull.”

  It surprised her, how hard it was to ignore the clay spinning away from her, to let it go, but she did. Instead, she pirouetted to face Trent, settling her sights right between his beautiful blue eyes. All around her, she heard a collective intake of breath. Her peripheral vision registered weapons coming up all around her, and still she held her position, locked in a stare-down with this lethal young creature, allowing him time to process all the implications of her action. She hadn’t just lost. She’d also made sure this group would never accept her. When at last she heard the distant, tinkling pop of the clay hitting the ground, she pointed the barrel of her shotgun over his head and fired her last shot. The men were on her before she could break her weapon open to eject the spent shells.

  She did not fight their rough jostling; to do so would only invite more violence. She allowed them to take the shotgun from her and secure her arms behind her back with a quiet dignity that would have done her mother proud. Trent stared at her all the while, his face twisted with betrayal, and bitter, bitter disappointment.

  “I made a place for you,” he finally managed to say, his voice high and very young. “I made a place for you here, and this is how you repay me?”

  “I don’t hang with campers,” Piper said calmly. Her gamer insult was lost on everyone but Trent, who went scarlet, then white, then back to scarlet. “If you still want to replace Reggie, you’ll have to keep looking. I don’t kill.”

  As soon as the words left her, she recognized the Truth of them. The jagged edges she’d been carrying around in her chest since that long-ago winter night, the heart she’d shattered herself when she had ended Josh, at last began to soften and mend. She closed her eyes, feeling the burn of grateful tears. No matter how this ended, her heart was eased.

  “I don’t kill,” she repeated softly, opening her eyes, looking not at Trent but at the sky. She sent that Truth winging into the soft blue, hoping it would find Josh, hoping her regret and sorrow would somehow reach and console his spirit. “I do not kill.”

  Trent’s chest heaved, and his eyes glittered with angry tears. He looked at Reggie, then gestured with wild hands at Piper.

  “Kill her! Kill her now!”

  Reggie, though, continued to stare at Trent. “You want to replace me? Is that what this was all about?”

  Trent made an impatient sound. “Don’t be stupid. That’s just what I told her.” But his face was tight with fear. “Now do your job!”

  Before Reggie could respond, Piper spoke. “If you kill me, your people will die.” She looked around at the crowd, making eye contact, giving them time to think about what she was saying. Then she returned her gaze to Trent and raised her eyebrows. “Pretty irresponsible, killing the one person who has the training to save a third of your community.”

  An unhappy murmur buzzed through the crowd, and Trent’s eyes darted furtively around the same path Piper’s eyes had taken. “Fine,” he snapped. He raised his chin, trying to appear calm and in control, but the quiver of his lower lip belied him. The red grid of bond lines connecting his people to him were beginning to sputter and fade. Under different circumstances, Piper would have pitied him. “You can treat our people first, then I’ll decide.” Again, he gestured at Reggie. “Take her to the infirmary.”

  “No.”

  Piper and Reggie spoke in unison. Echoing his earlier courtliness, perhaps even meaning it this time, Reggie swept a hand towards Piper. “Ladies first.”

  She inclined her head. “Thank you. Good shooting, by the way.” She turned to Trent. “I told you earlier. I won’t treat your people until you let me treat mine.”

  “I’ll have them killed,” Trent hissed. “Or tortured. You have to do what I say!”

  Her heart twisted horribly at his threat, but she didn’t let him see. “No, I don’t. Don’t you get it?” Her eyes went to Reggie, and she shook her head. The Reggies of the world held little terror for her now. She returned her gaze to Trent. “There is nothing you can do to me that I haven’t already survived. I won’t help you. Your people will die, and this whole community will know you could have saved them, if you weren’t a spoiled rotten little boy who had to have his way.”

  And that was it. The end of Trent’s self-control. With an inarticulate cry of rage, he threw his arms wide. Piper raised her hands re
flexively, momentarily blinded by the flare of Trent’s bond lines. She felt a hard tug in the center of her chest, felt her heart stutter, and was suddenly lightheaded. She heard the men on either side of her gasp, and she was abruptly released. Somehow, she managed to brace her legs and stay upright, but all around her, people were dropping to their knees or collapsing in dead faints. She held a hand up to protect her eyes and looked back at Trent.

  To Piper, he looked like something out of a horror movie, sprouting with writhing orange vines that punched through people before constricting to cold black. Reggie had managed to stay on his feet, but his complexion was a waxy grey, and he was clutching his head as if he feared it would split in two. Piper sucked in breath after breath as she tried to shore up her shields, tried to shove Trent out, but she understood Gideon’s words now: She never should have let him in.

  Trent held them all in thrall for long, long moments, then dropped his arms. He, too, was breathing heavily and was waxy pale, but his eyes glowed electric blue. Piper felt her fluttering heart stabilize and begin to pound, steady and strong once more. Across from her, Reggie cautiously dropped his hands from the sides of his head. He straightened to stare at Trent with a combination of fear and loathing. All around them, people were starting to struggle to their feet, though some seemed to have been rendered unconscious.

  Trent looked around, and a slow smile replaced his dazed expression. An occasional crackle of bond-energy rippled along his limbs, making him shudder with what looked like euphoria, or maybe pleasure. Piper thought she might vomit. He hadn’t known he could do this. And she’d goaded him into it. He was still pasty pale, so the effort had cost him something, but what?

  “Go home.” His voice, so whiny and thin before, was deeper. Stronger. “Think about who’s in charge here, and why.” He looked at Piper, and his lips twisted in a sneer. “You want to see your friends so bad? Fine.” He jerked his head at Reggie. “She can spend the night with them in their comfy cell. In the morning she can treat our people, or suffer the consequences.”

  Reggie’s eyes narrowed, and he didn’t immediately obey. When he finally did walk to take Piper’s arm, his reluctance was obvious in the slow deliberation of his movements. He didn’t speak to either Trent or Piper, just urged her away from the gathering and towards the northern edge of town. Around them, people were staggering and scurrying away, carrying those who had yet to regain consciousness, their terror glowing in the red-hot lines connecting them to Trent like wires.

  Piper was stunned. What had she done? For a few moments there, it had looked like she’d brought Trent’s little empire crashing down around him. Now, she feared all she’d managed to do was unleash him. She’d seen him disable the man named Paul; should she have anticipated this? She snorted, and felt Reggie look at her as he towed her along. Who the hell could have anticipated such a thing? He was more than an energetic parasite; he could manipulate bioelectrical systems in others. And now he knew it.

  They arrived at an older home, a Victorian-era farmhouse that appeared to have been well loved, not too long ago. Reggie led her up the broad porch steps and inside. The afternoon had disappeared into evening as they had competed, and the sun was nearing the western horizon. Long, golden rays slid in through the front windows, momentarily giving the illusion of life, of warmth. Piper closed her eyes, and wondered if it was the adrenalin still pumping through her body that made her smell popcorn and spiced cider, made her hear laughter. Reggie led her through the house to the kitchen, where he released her long enough to unlock a door, which led down into darkness.

  Still without speaking, he took a flashlight from a holder on the wall and snapped it on, then led her down the stairs into an old-fashioned fruit cellar. Dim light filtered in through high, dirty windows, illuminating another pad-locked door. Reggie stepped close to the door and pounded on it.

  “Step back,” he called. “And keep your mouths shut. You so much as sneeze, I shoot.”

  He drew a handgun from a holster in the small of his back, then unlocked the padlock, though he left the latch in place. Hesitating, he met Piper’s eyes for the first time. He opened his mouth, shut it, frowned, then shook his head and opened the door. Aligning his handgun with the flashlight, he pointed both inside the dimly lit room and gestured for Piper to step forward with a jerk of his head.

  “Go on, then.”

  Owen blinked in the sudden light, holding a hand up to shield his eyes. He was sitting on a straight-backed chair beside a cot, on which Jack lay. Still. Very, very still. Piper’s throat closed so tight she could hardly speak. She stumbled forward, gazing at Owen in anguish. “Is he…? Is he…?”

  Reggie shut the door behind her. Dimly, Piper heard the latch rattle and the padlock snap shut. Jack stirred then, finally, sitting up and scrubbing his face with both hands. He blinked at Piper blearily, then scowled. “If you let them eat my bacon, Piper, I swear I will never forgive you.”

  FOURTEEN: Jack: Maple River, Iowa

  To Jack’s consternation, Piper responded to his attempt at levity with tears. A lot of them. Owen stood, and she stumbled into his open arms, hiding her face against his chest while she sobbed. Owen looked at Jack over her bright hair and shook his head.

  “You sure are stupid about women.”

  Jack hung his head for a moment, wished he could blame his gaff on his head injury or lack of sleep, but Owen did have a point. He rose to his feet, and when the room stopped spinning, simply went and wrapped his arms around both of them. As soon as he felt her against him, felt her familiar energy blend with his, the awful, grinding anxiety that had been cramping his stomach for the last five days eased. The three of them rocked gently from side to side for long moments. Then Piper lifted her head. She scrubbed a wrist under her streaming nose, swiped at her cheeks with both palms, then slugged Jack in the shoulder hard enough to rock him back a step.

  “You scared the crap out of me!” she hissed. Then she hiccupped, and reached to cup first Owen’s face in her hands, then Jack’s. “I love you both,” she choked. There was something different, something wide-open in her bright green eyes as she looked at each of them in turn. “I was so afraid I wouldn’t get a chance to tell you that.”

  Owen’s smile was bright in the nearly dark room, his words tender and warm. “We love you too, honey.” His tone might have been easy, but his eyes were sharp as they searched her face. “We’re as relieved to see you as you are to see us. We were pretty worried, but Gideon kept us filled in on what was happening – did you meet him? He said he was going to introduce himself.”

  Piper made a sound of wonder. “What an extraordinary kid – I can’t imagine what would happen if we got him and Verity together. He said he’d been sneaking in to see you, and that you were both okay. My bond lines told me you were both still alive, but nothing more, and I was starting to wonder if I wasn’t just deceiving myself.”

  Jack’s eyes, too, had been probing and assessing. As long as he’d already stuck his foot in it once, he decided he had nothing to lose. Grasping Piper by the shoulders, he turned her to face him, ducking his head down to look her straight in the eyes. “Did they hurt you?

  She understood what he was asking, what both he and Owen needed to know, and shook her head. “No.” She reached up and wrapped her hands around his wrists, and he felt the truth of her words. “Not in any way.”

  Jack allowed his eyes to close for just a moment, swamped with a relief so intense it made his knees wobble. “Thank God,” he breathed. “I’ve been praying non-stop, and you have no idea, the dark scenarios we’ve been concocting in here, if they had hurt you.” He opened his eyes, and tried once again for levity. “You know, just to pass the time.” He gave up trying to play it cool and pulled her close, wrapping both arms around her and just holding on. She nestled into him, and he could feel her drawing as much comfort from him as he was drawing from her, a give-and-take that balanced everything inside him. “Piper. Thank God.”

  Owen’s big ha
nd landed on his shoulder a moment later. “I hate to break this up, but we may not have much time. We need to make plans.”

  Piper stepped back. “We do, but first things first. Have a seat, please.”

  She waved Jack towards the chair, then took his chin and turned his head towards the pittance of light still trickling into the room from the window. Her fingers pressed delicately along the edges of the wound over his ear. A dull ache bloomed from each point she touched, followed by a tingle that slid along his nape and down his spine. Interesting. It sure didn’t feel like that when Owen touched him.

  She turned his chin again and touched the scuffs on the side of his face where he’d hit the tarmac. “Tell me about your symptoms. Still nauseated?”

  “No, not for a few days.”

  “How about dizziness?”

  “Only when I stand up. Or bend over. Or move fast.” He made a wry face at her. “So, yes. Still dealing with dizziness.”

  She bent, bringing her face close to his, looking at his eyes. “Wish I had a flashlight,” she murmured, and her breath feathered his cheeks, soft and warm. “Owen, did you notice any difference in the size of his pupils? One bigger than the other?”

  “That first day, yes.” Owen moved to stand beside her. “I can’t remember which was bigger, though. And I haven’t seen it since then.”

  “Hmm. Good.” She looked into his eyes then, instead of at them, and again he was struck by how wide-open her gaze was. “You are one lucky preacher man. I just shot it out with the man who did this to you, and if he had wanted you dead, you would be dead. He might even be as good as my mom.”

  Jack’s eyebrows rose. “Shot it out? Sounds like you’ve been busy. Did you win?”