Fortune's Detour: Prequel of the Deka Series by Abigail Schwaig

by Abigail Schwaig

  There would be no practical point to a building design of one sole spire like that, so code would not allow the blueprints for such a monstrosity. If however, someday, architectural fanatics masquerading as politicians got a hold of governmental policy, look out because havoc would be wreaked.

  We walked around; street level. The place was much more pleasant than World City: no thick ropes of heavy water vapor in the air. No annoying wetness beading on your skin or leather clothes. My bangs didn’t stick to my forehead in the Sky City; my clothes breathed. It was pretty awesome.

  We talked about nonsense and looked at the shiny aircraft and four-boards that zipped along the air traffic levels.

  Then we located the beat up little antique that took us all the way from the prison facility to the Tera launch port in Sky City. It was in the underground parking garage that used to be a huge tunnel within a bunker underneath the city, right where we left it.

  ~

  It didn’t take long before we were keeping companionable silence on the road, yet again. I forget why, but somehow we got onto the topic of naming and names in general. He made a mockingly derisive remark about his own, Sam Marshal.

  I was passionately defensive. "Simple names aren't stupid. A name by itself means nothing until you meet the person behind it. I like your name; I think it's strong, relevant." I waved my hand.

  He grinned. "And I think you're biased.”

  “Oh really?” I tried to be severe.

  “Yes. If I told you my name was… Rosepelt Hinkenmeyer… you’d find something nice about it because you have a big heart."

  I laughed. It was one of those funny Exan names. "I guess I am biased. I've never met a Sam I didn't like."

  He laughed with me and we turned some music on.

  "I can't believe this thing still works." I was incredulous. "It's so outdated, it should be in a junk depot, but it looks brand new. Just like in the magazines, “Vehicles of the Past” that my father liked to skim through.”

  "You know, vehicles used to be banned from Doorway travel."

  "Really? I thought that wouldn't be necessary because none of the Doorways on the ground are big enough for more than one person to step through at a time."

  "Actually, that was believed only because they hadn't found one big enough on the ground up until a few years ago. It was a recent discovery, they had video footage, but since the Doorway hasn't appeared for years, they're starting to think it was a hoax."

  "But they know that the Doorways are time-sensitive, that they work on some invisible clock mechanism that we haven't figured out yet. So why couldn't there be a Doorway that's bigger? I mean I know there are bigger ones in the sky and we go through them in aircraft and space craft, but besides that. The portals are never the same size anyway."

  "Exactly!" Sam agreed, thumping the steering wheel emphatically. "Don't you just love science?"

  I grinned. "Sure. It can be pretty useful. Though I prefer making things happen instead of just reading about them."

  He smiled. "Reading about them is more my hobby. I guess since my job is making things happen, I gravitate toward the opposite for downtime."

  "Yeah, that makes sense." I peered out the window and up at the sky. "It's a beautiful day for flying, but I'm glad to be on the ground."

  He understood. "The nicest part of traveling by ground is that you don’t have many other vehicles on the road, so there is a lot of visibility. Especially when you’re taking the route we’re taking- nobody can keep track of you in the lodestone-packed deserts of Tera. And being in my business, you've got strategic people stashed around the countryside just in case of emergencies. So it's pretty safe."

  Nodding in agreement, I held up a hand and stretched my fingers lazily out the window. The solar star’s rays painted and striped them in light.

  He comes alive in conversation. So different from David. David just shut down.

  I was silent, staring at the shifting scenery. It was dusty and we seemed to be on the only road in the middle of nowhere. That “nowhere” was a blanket-brown desert surrounded by muddy red mountains.

  “This is too cool,” I whispered, looking around. I know we’d already driven through it- but the last time I had just gotten sprung from prison, so anything was awesome. The second time through, it hadn’t lost its enchantment over me. I swiped underneath my eyes as unbidden tears at the beauty of it all assaulted my eyes. I pressed against the glass.

  He rolled the windows all the way down for me, seeming to sense my need to become one with the outdoors.

  I glanced back at him, and he met my gaze with his light, warm smile. I grinned back and in one swift move, stuck my whole torso out the window, spreading my arms wide and shouting on the wind, “I’m alive!”

  He shook his head and slowed the car somewhat. I popped my head back in and plopped back on the seat. “I will stay in my seat now.” I giggled. He sped up once more and I leaned my forehead against the iron hard doorjamb, letting the wind wash over my skin. Thankfully, the dust was blowing the other way and I found myself protected in case of attack from grains of airborne sand.

  I tried to press all thought out of my head. But even hanging halfway out of a speeding car couldn’t thrill my body enough to make my brain lie dormant. I was still on my way to a death sentence, and I still refused to turn back.

  I concentrated on the soothing rhythm of Sam’s words, eyes closed and body at peace with the elements.

  CHAPTER NINE

  That day we took our time, driving in and out of little mountainous areas and stopping at several small towns in the Caterlands. It was always bittersweet. A short stop here and there- I could almost imagine a whole life lived in each place we stopped. We would meet a waitress or two, buy a snack, and take in the local residents sitting on their porches in the middle of the afternoon waiting for a beast to come along so they could shoot it and have some real excitement for once. It was so simple.

  ~

  “I’ve always thought that there was a Creator,” I spoke slowly, twisting my hands in the knotted cord of my satchel. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Ever since I put my life in the gap, I didn’t know what I believed anymore. “Someone must have put the universe into motion. There is an absolute designer, no doubt about that. It’s just… I’m not so sure that this Being is who I want to worship for the rest of time.” I added, “I don’t know if I can trust It.”

  Sam nodded. “I see where you’re coming from.”

  I concentrated on his shoes and the dirt that they rested on. They were scuffed and well-worn. Probably his favorite pair. He leaned back so close to me, and yet it wasn’t close at all. Our arms were almost touching, yet they never did. I could smell his scent, just a wisp of it. I smiled. He wasn’t one of those jokers who marinated in a fragrance. I leaned back, too, against the hood of the car. We stared up into the night sky together, enjoying the bright stars and reflecting planets that were so close you could kiss them.

  ~

  It’s night. We lie on our backs in the bed of the vehicle. We are wrapped in some old sweaters and a blanket that have been jammed under the passenger seat for far too long; it’s basically paradise. As long as I live in the moment, every second is bursting with energy and joy. I don’t like to contemplate my mortality, but here it is again, staring me in the face.

  Tell him. He deserves to know.

  “Sam, if anything happens tomorrow…” What? I love you? That I’ve been steadily falling in love with you ever since you looked me in the eye and talked about Gran? Oh that’s rich- coming from the girl who’s still on the run from the last ‘love of her life.’ Way to make it special.

  I sigh and try to concentrate on remembering the positives. It’s important, especially if you’re planning on maybe being dead the next day. “Thank you for being a friend.” I speak with all the sincerity I can muster. He needs to know, maybe not how much I cared, but how much I trusted.

  I know I’m just staring at the stars above me
, but I feel like I can read his heartbeat by gazing at the constellations. The backs of our hands touch. Then his hand draws across mine and clasps it. I can tell he’s smiling. I always know. Maybe because we always smile at the same things.

  We fall asleep that way, hands clasped, fingers loosely twined, the way children do.

  ~

  4811/14/1/9

  I wake up to find our pinkies curled around each other, thinking how childish and yet how wonderful this is. I didn’t know peacekeepers even had a sweet side. But Sam is not like most peacekeepers. I smile at that. Sam is priceless.

  I get up carefully, knowing he’ll instantly wake if I move wrong. He’s been the one driving all the time. He insists he likes it, but I know it’s tiring. I sit up and survey our messy pile of blanket folds and extra clothes. I know his face so well by now that I could sketch it, blind-folded. But I don’t linger on thoughts of affection. First things first: Wait and see if you live through the day.

  I have it all mapped out in my brain. We’ll drive into Cornish. I’ll walk around; chat up the locals I used to hang out with at their shops. We’ll drive around the house of Gran’s that has been burnt to a crisp, and if that doesn’t generate some frantic criminal interest we’ll just have to drive out to the house on the dry marsh that David took me to on that fateful day. Never thought I’d actually make plans to return to the dump. It was eerie.

  Sam stirs; awakens. Cracks an eye.

  “Morning,” I honk. My voice strangely resembles a duck if I haven’t used it in a while.

  He favors me with a crusty, groggy smile. I can tell by the way he immediately rubs his neck that he slept stiff. His hair is doing that wild-animal imitation again. I smother a smirk. I really wish I had something delicious cooked up so I could have the pleasure of watching him eat it.

  I stretch. Everything feels so normal. I hang on to the feeling. I crave it. I want so desperately for this to be as uneventful a day as possible.

  ~

  We went to Cornish. Nothing more than random pleasant chats with a few homeless and some oblivious shopkeepers. Basically, no one had seen David or anyone glaringly new since I left. “Maybe they’ll have my mom’s Comms tapped?” I suggested. Sam seemed reluctant, but eventually allowed it. I left an awkward and abnormal message on her answering device. It was worse than I expected. It almost felt like we weren’t related at all. I shrugged off the feeling. No matter what happened today, I knew a place in the galaxy where I had real family- the kind of home that takes you in when you’ve got nowhere else to go. Simone and Ange and Tom- and even some others at the Tumbler… they were my home. Because not only did I accidentally fall in with them, but they chose me. They chose me without any hint of regret or going back on their decision. That’s the definition of family, so I guess I have more to lose today than I first figured.

  Then we drove by the beach house. Or what was left of it, anyway. Just a pile of charred remains. Like a torn-up grave, the maw of blackened charcoal jaggedly grinned at me. Like those skeletons from the dream. I shivered.

  Sam kept in Comms contact with his team. He didn’t offer up any information about his associates and I didn’t ask. I didn’t want to pry. Or get attached to strangers on the day of my possible death.

  We headed out to the Bay to look for David- and came across the shack, still intact, if only barely. His car was there, too. Sam made a quick perimeter search with his device. David was far into the marsh area; his heat signature constant and roving. He knew. He was waiting for me to come to him. Well I wouldn’t. I’d wait for him to come to the shack.

  My insides started to quiver. I still wore the little GPS homing device around my neck, the item Sam gave me that first meeting in his office. It kept my Hecta pendant company, hanging over my breastbone. “Sam- let me go in alone.” I heard myself say. It shocked me as much as it did him. I had never told him to do something before. Time to be the bait.

  But he listened and slowed the car on the gravel driveway.

  “Are you still in contact with your fellow peacekeepers?” I asked.

  His answer was vaguely affirmative. “They’re around.” He gave me a curious look, one that I couldn’t discern the meaning of.

  He said he would be lying in wait around the salt scrubs and shrubbery on a little bluff, close by. It was a good place to be; great vantage point. It had cover and it gave shade out here in the blistering dayshine. It was a funny thing about Myceania in the Winter- even though it was on the chilly side; the dayshine could still burn you just as quickly as if it was the heat of Summer.

  Since the annual flooding of the shores, half of the shack was intact and untouched and the other half was completely missing. Sam’s vantage point would provide ample view on the side that was missing, where I would station myself as bait. It was like a doll house; the house appeared to be perfectly fine from street view but the back was sliced off, reminiscent of a knife’s handiwork.

  ~

  I finger the pendant chain as I walk cautiously along the crunching gravel to the shack. With every tentative step I get closer and closer, and my heart beats faster and faster.

  I have Sam’s voice in my ear, from where I’ve been wired, and it’s crackling over the Comms because I’m crunching on more gravel. I can’t tell what he’s saying, just that it’s for my benefit. Probably some sort of pep talk. I smile sadly and continue stepping closer and closer to my demise. I bet David is just waiting to finish me off. He probably won’t even want to say hello, just shoot me and wipe up his mess. Now I’m on the dirt and silt-encased ground beneath the house. The stilts are impressive. I can see why the rest of the shack has managed to survive for so long. I come upon a heavy wooden ladder apparatus. It’s just slabs of driftwood nailed into the wood of the house. I grasp one of the pieces and hiss as slivers sink into my fingers. But I keep going. I fit my shoes over the footholds and grab the handholds and haul myself up the short ladder. Once in the room, the only room that the shack affords, I can feel the dayshine’s radiance on me. I can imagine my body turning into the skeletal figures of my dreams out here, unnoticed by anyone but creeping sand weed and the occasional sea gull.

  I pace and wait, trying to ignore the pain in my fingers and the heel of my hand. I forgot to salve my hand wound. Any second now, David will arrive and I have to be ready- aware. I can’t worry about my hands and lack of weapons. But as the minutes pass by and cluster behind me, I start to dig at my fingers with anything I find lying around. A stick doesn’t help. Sand weed can’t do much. My teeth are little better. I stifle a groan and clench my fists against the panic, exacerbated by the pain shooting across my palm. I just wish I had something to hold, a secret weapon in my back pocket, anything.

  “Hello, Natalie.”

  My gut clenches; my heart freezes. I know that voice…unfortunately.

  Two thoughts jump into my mind. The first one: I’m not Natalie. The second: It worked! My plan worked! He took the bait! And now- now I’m stuck in the same abandoned shack with him. Oh Angels…

  I pause, gulping. I speak without looking at him. “Hello, David.”

  I slowly turn and find myself face to face with David. And does he look good. He must have paid special attention to his appearance, today of all days. Or maybe he didn’t have to try. If memory served correctly, his looks were always effortless and effective.

  “David.”

  I said it blankly, with an eagerness that originated more from dread than emotional interest. I twisted my fists into my pockets, the splinters momentarily forgotten. This was a new experience, standing here as Nicki-Ray in front of David, who only knew Natalie Pryce. I remembered telling him how much I loathed pants, jeans most especially. That was the reason Sam had been so insistent about my change of wardrobe.

  I wondered idly if it had worked. If being inducted into the Federation’s Safety Net worked well for getting over past relationships. Staring up into David’s shining face, I was inclined to hold off on the vote. The jury was sti
ll out. David had such an overwhelming presence, it was like I couldn’t take in anything else- my senses were too busy making associations and absorbing it all. It was like a drug-induced high, and one that I did not wish to participate in.

  The triumphant realization died within my heart with the proximity to David. Apparently this new confidence I had been building over the past year wasn’t up to the task. Here I stood, shaking like a leaf in front of him, trapped by his hot gaze. My plan had worked; everything had been set in place. I was facing my fear, but if I couldn’t hold onto my courage, I wasn’t sure how much good it could do me now.

  “Hey.” He spoke softly, looming in front of me. I bit my tongue to keep from cringing away from him.

  Stand your ground, I commanded myself.

  He walked out of the dayshine into the shadows where I stood. He shrank down to his normal size, an athletic, academe aged man. He still seemed to tower above me. He was taller than Sam. I shivered.