The Journey is Our Home

by Kathy Miner

Piper helped wherever she was needed and provided medical care in the rare instances where Veda’s teas and tinctures didn’t suffice. She hunted as well, though the bows and traps of the Nolette family were just as effective and more practical, given the limited supply of ammunition. But she had no true purpose. No calling. Luc’s return had clicked something into place for her, had answered a question she’d just begun to ask. While Luc had been gone, Piper had visited the Nolette family daily to read their bond-lines, offering them what reassurance she could. On the day of his return, she gave the hullabaloo time to die down, then marched over and stuck her nose right in their business.

  “Please don’t try to stop him from searching for Annalise,” she had said to the Nolette parents, especially his teary-eyed mother. “He has to do what his heart tells him to do. When you think about it, this is a healthy response to a tragic occurrence. He’s trying to do something to make it right, instead of curling up in a corner crying, ‘Poor me.’ Besides,” she had straightened authoritatively, catching Luc’s eye and holding it. “You won’t be going alone, ever again. You’ll promise your mother that. I’ll go with you, to watch your back and gather information about what’s happening out there. I don’t like to brag, but I’ve only met two people who can out-shoot me. One is a sociopath in Iowa, who I pray you’ll never meet, and the other is a housewife in Colorado, who also happens to be my Mama.” She had turned back to his parents. “I’ll keep him safe or die trying. We’ll make a good team.”

  And they did. They had sailed back and forth to the Milwaukee area four times since that day. They had made contact with the group Luc and Cass had seen evidence of on the banks of the Menominee River, a tight-knit, resourceful and suspicious group composed of people that had been homeless in the time before. They had also connected with a tiny handful of survivors in Pewaukee, a group of four: three twenty-something siblings and their mother, who was more terrifying and formidable than all three of her children put together. One of those children, the middle daughter, was considering a trip to Colorado the following spring, intrigued by the idea of forming a network of runners to share information and hope.

  Finally, on their last trip, they’d found two more orphans for Jack to foster, twin brothers who had not yet spoken a word, but who had at least stopped trying to bite any adult that approached. They thought the boys were around seven, and they refused to be separated for even an instant. Cass and Veda were certain they were communicating telepathically; their eyes would meet for extended periods, whereupon they would act in eerie unison to complete a task or – less frequently now – make a break for freedom. Little Gideon had been invaluable in caring for them, greeting them as old friends and chattering to them both non-stop as he coaxed them into play with a train set Jack had found and set up.

  They had not found Annalise yet, though. Not even a trace of her. In spite of this, both Luc and Piper believed she was still alive. The red bond-line connecting Luc to that mysterious someone had grown stronger as time had passed, which fascinated Piper. She had no explanation for the phenomenon. It almost had to be Annalise – the line clearly indicated someone on the outskirts of Pewaukee, and Luc didn’t know anyone else there. But how? Intention, perhaps? The simple, printed notes Luc always left on Annalise’s mother’s grave and in the house? Whatever bound them had grown stronger without Annalise’s involvement or consent, without any further interaction between them.

  It was so interesting, and at the same time, disturbing. Piper had spent many an hour thinking and writing in her tattered journal about the nature of human bonds, both seen and unseen. She thought about her mother, and the rock-steady bond she had come to view as foundational to her mental well-being. She thought about Trent, and the twisted, unhealthy bonds he had forged; no doubt he was forging them still. She thought about Jack, and the vibrant bond she’d seen between them when all she knew about him was his name. And, of course, she’d thought about Brody.

  He was dead. Piper had felt him die, the day after they arrived in Pewaukee back at the end of July. One moment he’d been there, a heaviness in her chest and a bond-line she couldn’t shake, and the next he’d been gone. She hadn’t said a word to anyone; there had been plenty to keep her busy and distracted during those eventful days of reunions and introductions. She had felt certain enough, though, to leave information at the Kiel family home on where to find their group, should anyone from Colorado come looking.

  At the time, she hadn’t known Cass well enough to ask her to confirm her conviction that Brody was dead, though she intended to do so tonight. According to Veda and Cass, this was a night to remember and honor the spirits of the dead, the night of the year when the veil between this life and the next was thinnest. Accordingly, another combo-celebration had been planned: a “Harvest Festival” for the folks with Christian beliefs; “Samhain” for those of pagan or wiccan persuasion; and all of it united by the decorations and traditions of “Dia de los Muertos,” which had been celebrated on the island by families of Mexican descent since long before the plague.

  Piper was looking forward to it, all of it. Veda and Ed had been baking for days, and Jack had been singing snippets of the sing-along songs he’d prepared. Cass and Veda would both be giving readings throughout the afternoon and evening, and Piper had heard rumors of other skits and dramatic presentations. In today’s world, this was as close to field study as a thwarted sociologist could get. “Celebration as an expression of localized values, norms and mores,” she said as she followed Luc off the dune. “That would have made a kick-ass thesis.”

  Piper had brought the community’s Kubota RTV to fetch Luc. The luxury utility vehicle had just been raffled off when the plague struck, and the lucky winner had not survived to claim it. It had become a part of the community center by default, and no one would even consider gainsaying a pregnant Maddie when she commandeered it for Piper to fetch Luc. They piled inside the snug, covered interior just as another gust of wind picked up half a dune and sent it hissing against the windows. Piper sighed with relief and started the motor, putzing them towards the east side of the island on Donnegal Bay Road.

  She peered out at the lowering sky and gave an exaggerated shudder. “So if the witch of November is a real thing, what about other northern legends? Like the wendigo? Or that thing where a pond can freeze so fast it can trap a whole flock of ducks, and they fly away with it?”

  “Wendigos are nonsense, and so is the duck thing. Only Canada geese can fly away with a pond.” Luc didn’t smile, but there was something mischievous about the crinkled corners of his eyes when he squinted at her. “Everybody knows that.”

  Piper nodded solemnly and bit the inside of her cheek, rewarded when he chuckled a moment later. She laughed along with him, then brought up the subject that had been troubling her. “So, no more trips to Milwaukee until spring. How do people stay busy during the winter months, then?”

  More than concern for Luc motivated her question; in her soul, Piper was a wanderer. The thought of being trapped on the island for months on end was already making her just a little breathless. She glanced at Luc as she drove, noting that his face had flushed a dull red.

  “A disproportionate number of people on this island have fall birthdays,” he said. “Do the math.”

  “Okay,” She was both amused and mortified to feel her face flush, too. “So, how do those of us without a love life occupy our time? Are we just stuck here on the island?”

  Luc gazed at her, and she could feel how badly he wanted to ask about Jack. Piper kept her eyes stubbornly ahead, concentrating on the deserted road. She wasn’t going to discuss her relationship with Jack until she and Jack had discussed it themselves. And certainly not with a teenage boy. The kisses they had shared in Trent’s dungeon hadn’t been repeated, and though Jack was warm and relational when he was with her, he didn’t seek to be alone with her. They saw each other all the time, but always in the company of others.

  Veda’s kitchen table had become a hot spot f
or discussion and debate, and though Piper loved the far-reaching and speculative conversations about the how and why of what had happened to them as individuals and as a species, in her heart of hearts, she yearned for more from Jack. Sometimes, she’d catch him watching her in a way she wanted to call him out on. Damn it, she knew what that look meant, and the bond-line she could see between them was stronger and brighter than ever. But at some point between that basement in Iowa and here, he’d obviously had second thoughts.

  What would a community-builder like Jack want with a gypsy like Piper? She sure as hell wasn’t preacher’s wife material, and then there was the kid thing. If she’d ever met a born father, it was Jack. And Gideon, bless his little otherworldly heart, had casually mentioned that motherhood wasn’t in Piper’s cards.

  “You’ll never have a baby,” he’d announced one day as they’d sailed north on the Grindylow. His heaven-blue eyes had been ancient and innocent as he’d gazed at Piper, and she’d been intensely aware of the eyes of every one of her companions swinging her way, especially Jack’s. “No, you’ll never be a mama. But you’ll guide hundreds. You’ll see.”

  She could feel the truth of little Gideon’s words and wasn’t all that surprised; her mother had struggled to conceive and carry children. Hearing it in such a way had been a shock, though, and all of them had been working with Gideon on the concept of “discretion.” For Piper, though, there was some peace in the knowledge. She could not fathom what her mother had gone through trying to protect Macy and losing her anyway. Then, when she and Luc had found the twins and brought them here, she’d felt a path solidify beneath her feet. You’ll guide hundreds. Well, she already had the first two under her belt.

  Beside her, Luc shrugged, his all-purpose “whatever” gesture. “Winter used to be the time Bastian and I would work on more extensive research projects with mom, or work with dad, making repairs and learning more about the boatbuilding craft. Doesn’t make much sense to build more boats, though. We already have more than we need.” He drummed his fingers on his knee, thinking. “We used to fly to the mainland once a month, and that helped break the winter up, but we don’t have any pilots left. Snowmobile groups used to go to Mackinac Island or the U.P. over the ice, and years ago, people walked it to deliver the mail.”

  Interest sparked. “Really? It’s safe to travel over the ice like that?”

  “Safe?” Luc snorted. “Not hardly. People died, but they did it anyway. Is it safe to summit a fourteener?”

  Piper sighed. “Point taken. I guess I’ll just have to get used to the idea of being here until – what – March?”

  “April, at least.”

  Piper drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. They were approaching the east side of the island, passing people who were walking or riding bikes towards the community center, many of them carrying packages or plates of food. A few of them were dressed in Halloween costumes, and one woman had beautiful, sugar skull makeup covering her face. She waved at them as they went by, and Piper recognized Cass with a start.

  “Huh. I wonder if that helps her communicate with the dead,” Piper mused, and that was when the idea hit her. “Luc, does anyone on the island have a short-wave radio?”

  “Well, sure,” he said. “Mr. Smith does. We have one, but it’s broken. Dad was going to order a part, but, well. And I’m sure there’s one at the community center. Wouldn’t be surprised if others had them, too – it was a pretty popular hobby, before.”

  “No one has tried to reach out, see who’s out there?”

  “We did, at first. Then a boatload – ha, no pun intended – of people showed up, and Miss Veda told us to turn them away. After that, it was decided to keep our location on the down-low. Then, there was so much to do, I guess people just lost interest.”

  Piper nodded, her mind already buzzing with excitement over the prospect of a new project to fill the winter months. She’d talk to the elusive “Mr. Smith,” she’d talk to Gavin Nolette, she’d learn what she needed to learn, maybe find her niche here as the island’s new communications specialist. Re-establishing regional and then world-wide communication should be a priority for survivors everywhere, or crucial knowledge would inevitably be lost. It wasn’t enough to survive. They needed to analyze what had happened to them as they adapted and remember the lessons their species had learned. Most importantly, they needed to teach future generations. Piper laughed softly at herself as they pulled up in front of the community center. Lofty goals, to be sure, but with her degree at UNC suspended indefinitely, what better did she have to do with her time?

  They hopped out of the Kubota and hurried towards the door. The wind was less intense here on the east side of the island, but the bay was still rough with white-caps and heavy chop, and the clouds had brought with them a grey and dreary early twilight. Before Luc reached for the door, though, he turned to Piper and rested his hand on his heart.

  “Is she still alive?”

  Piper didn’t have to ask who. Luc never left her company without asking after Annalise. Piper let her vision go unfocused for a moment, and there the bond-line was, strong and vibrant red. “She is.”

  He nodded once, then sighed. Then he reached for the door and pulled it open, releasing a flood of warmth, light and life. Piper spotted Maddie across the large, open, common room, waved, and gave Luc’s shoulder a shove.

  “You’re my good deed for the day. Go give your mom a kiss and tell her she owes me.”

  He gave her a refreshingly teenaged eye-roll and did as he was told, weaving his way through small groups of party-goers to give his rounded mother a gentle hug and a peck on the cheek. Piper watched the bonds between mother and son deepen and flare – green, pink, violet, bright white. She broadened her scope of vision and just enjoyed the light show for a few moments. What a vibrant community this was, connected, committed, growing. And how lucky she was, her life woven into this tapestry of colors and lives.

  “Just once, I wish I could see what you see.”

  Jack’s warm voice sent delicious tingles down her spine. Because she didn’t know what to do with that, she didn’t look at him right away, smiling instead at Ed and Owen across the room. When she was braced, she turned and gave him a tighter, more controlled version of her smile. “It’s beautiful. I was just thinking how lucky I am to be a part of it.”

  “We’re all lucky. Every single person in this room.”

  Piper nodded her agreement, and silence fell between them. They stood side-by-side, greeting people as they passed by. Piper counted; every single person on the island was here. The room was festive with eclectic decorations: slightly tattered tissue paper flowers and garlands, beautifully painted sugar skulls, pumpkins and gourds, and candles, which blazed and sparkled everywhere. A long table was artfully arranged with the offerings of food, the air rich with scents both savory and sweet. In a far corner, separated from the rest of the room by dividers draped with colorful scarves and beads, both Cass and Veda had set up shop, offering their unique talents and skills to the people lined up waiting. In the opposite corner, Bastian was playing his guitar, a soft, lilt of music underlying the buzz of conversation and laughter. And still, the silence between them grew, and grew, until Piper had to start laughing at both of them.

  “For Pete’s sake. It shouldn’t be this hard, Jack. We’re both all intuitive now.” She met his eyes and stopped worrying about protecting her heart. More than anything, she wanted this man’s friendship. “I don’t know why we can’t talk anymore, but I can try to clear up my side of it. I don’t have any expectations. If you’re sorry you kissed me, can’t we just chalk it up to the heat of the moment and be friends again? I miss you.” She covered her heart with her hand and warmed the bond between them. “No one else here wants to talk sociology. They start glazing over, and nodding, and pretty soon they’ve got a deer to skin or something –”

  “Is that what you think? That I regret kissing you?” Jack shook his head slowly. “You’re right – it sh
ouldn’t be this hard, but it is. Piper, you are such a beautiful, free spirit. I can’t stand the idea of stifling that. I’m a homebody. Unless I have to go chase down my baby sister again, I may never leave this island. I love it here, and I want to build a home here.” His eyes dropped to her mouth, and his voice slid into a lower register, weaving a curtain of heat and intimacy around them. “I go to sleep, thinking about kissing you, and when I wake up, it’s the first thing I remember – what your mouth felt like. And you can just stop looking at me like you want me to elaborate, because I’m not going to.”

  Piper’s skin was flushing with heat and chills from head to toe, and her heart was tripping out a rapid beat. She turned so that her back was to the crowd and couldn’t stop herself from taking a step closer to him. She felt their energy blend together as an all-over tingle of desire, and thought she might go a little crazy when she heard his breath catch, when his eyes dropped to her mouth, unmistakably hungry. “Why not?” she said. “Because I’m interested in hearing all about that, especially when you use that voice thing you do –”

  “Piper. Stop.” He interrupted her a second time, but his heart wasn’t in it. She could feel that, plain as plain. “I’m nine years older than you. And I’m old-fashioned. No, don’t you dare laugh, I am! You college kids and that ‘hooking up’ thing you do – that is not for me. I don’t want casual. And I don’t particularly want a ‘girlfriend’ since I’m being honest.”

  Well, then, that was a bucket of ice water. Piper reeled a little, blinking, and took a step back. “I see. Okay. I understand. So –”

  “I want a wife.”

  More blinking. Then Piper squinted at him. “Jack? I’m lost. Could we regroup? I’m having trouble keeping up…”

  Jack laughed, and hung his head for a moment. Then, in front of the entire population of Beaver Island, he swooped her into his arms and kissed her until she was cross-eyed and dizzy. A scattering of applause started around them, quickly spreading through the room until it was accompanied by cheers and catcalls. Cass’s laughing voice cut through the chaos a moment later.