Mountain Echoes wp-8

by C. E. Murphy

  “Nah,” I said again. “Nothing wipes me out.”

  “Except curing cancer.” Morrison’s eyebrows challenged me.

  “…” Nope. I couldn’t come up with an argument. Curing cancer had left me just about this rattled, and it was just about as impossible a task as building a road out of thin air. I shut my mouth, then decided changing the subject was my safest bet. “Where’s Dad?”

  “Making sure your invisibility shields hold. He says he never thought of doing anything like them, so he’s got to pay attention. You kept them going.” Morrison’s voice dropped a note, respect blending with bewilderment. “Even unconscious, you kept them going until he was able to pick them up.”

  “Had to, or they woulda found us. Woulda defeated the point of all of…” I waved a hand toward the valley. “That. Do we have any food? Shoe leather will do.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Okay.” I tried sitting up again, and was able to this time. “How long’ve I been out?”

  “About an hour, and you should’ve been out a week, and in the hospital. You were in bad shape, Walker. You were gray. If your dad hadn’t been here…” The strain returned to Morrison’s eyes.

  I leaned over to flop against him, relieved to not stand up yet. “But he was, and I’m okay now. I could eat a donkey, but I’m okay.” I wondered how many times I could say that, and whether any of the repetitions would make Morrison believe me. “I think I gotta go talk to Dad. We need to go find everybody. We have to…”

  My thoughts disintegrated again. With Dad, without Dad, whatever: I had pushed myself way too damned far and my brain was full of static. It took a long time just to remember the problem: that we’d disappeared out from under the military’s nose, after they’d fired missiles at us. Even if I suspected a media blackout on what was happening in the Qualla, somebody was going to notice that. It would behoove the military to get to us before the news broke. They’d no doubt been searching the mountains already, but they were going to redouble their efforts now. I drifted from that into “I’m sorry, Morrison.”

  He tipped me back so he could frown at me. “For what?”

  “I’m going to make a hash of your career, aren’t I? Seattle police captain involved in high-speed military chase. Involved in the mystery of the missing Cherokee. Involved in the zombie apocalypse. That can’t look good on a resume.” Exhaustion and weariness made my eyes fill with apologetic tears. I was screwing up everybody’s lives.

  “Good thing you only gave them your name.” His mouth curved again, rueful little smile. “And at least you quit the department two weeks ago, before you riled up the military.”

  “Riled. You’ve already been in the South too long, using words like riled. I didn’t hand in a letter, Morrison.” At least, I didn’t think I had. It was hard to remember. I stared at him, trying to hold my thoughts together. “I just told you I was quitting, right? Is that enough?”

  My former boss looked ever so slightly shifty. “I may have taken some liberties there, Walker.”

  For a few seconds my haze-filled brain didn’t get it. Then I blinked at him in astonishment. “You forged my resignation letter?”

  His voice went soft. “I didn’t think you would be coming back. Not as a cop, anyway. If you’ve changed your mind…”

  “No.” Fuzzy-minded or not, I was firm on that. It meant finding a job when I got home again, but that was the least of my problems, given that right now I was too tired to stand up. I sent a feeble request to my spirit animals for help, and they all gave me flat looks. I mumbled a silent apology to them and returned my attention to Morrison. “No, it was a good call, especially with this going on now. At least it makes me a former employee, and…” I exhaled, unable to complete the thought without effort. “And I guess, I don’t know, we keep us under wraps for a little while? Until people stop talking about this?”

  “Is that what you want?”

  “Not really, but I want to cost you your job even less.” I snorted. “Besides, if we keep it quiet awhile the department will start a betting pool on when we’ll come out. Maybe we can get Billy to game it for us. Okay. Help me up. I’m…God, I’m tired, Morrison. I shouldn’t be this tired. I don’t tap out like that.”

  “You’re too skinny, you haven’t eaten, and you’ve been throwing magic around like it’s fairy dust, Walker. Nobody can keep anything up forever. Not even you. C’mon.”

  He did help me up, an arm around my waist to keep me steady, and we went to find Dad, who was sitting just far enough away that he could pretend he wasn’t eavesdropping. I didn’t believe it, but I didn’t care enough to call him on it. He spoke when we got close enough. “You got the invisibility shields idea from that comic you used to read, didn’t you? The one with the blonde woman and the rock man. It’s a good idea. Unique. I’m not sure you’d have thought of it if I’d trained you. I’m more traditional than this.”

  That was, in fact, where I’d gotten the idea. I’d loved Sue Storm as a kid. “You seem to have gotten the hang of it.”

  “Once I saw what you’d done, sure. I don’t know how you kept it up until I took over, Jo…anne. You shouldn’t have been able to. I’ve never seen anyone that deeply drained of energy and still alive.”

  I said the same thing I had to Morrison: “I had to, or it all would have been pointless. The real question is how we’re going to keep it functioning once we head into the hills, because no way am I leaving Petite exposed up here for the military to find and tear apart.”

  “No, Joanne.” Dad got up, hands in his pockets, a crease between his eyebrows. “The question is how you did that. You’re not understanding me. When I say you shouldn’t have been able to I mean I’ve been a shaman for more than forty years and I’ve never seen anyone do any of what you’ve done today. We use power circles and sweat lodges to alter perceptions and to heal. We don’t just fling ourselves in without preparation. We shield ourselves against sorcery, but we don’t wind that magic into nets and walls that affect wide spaces or many people. We don’t drive cars across open air and then keep invisibility shields active when our hearts are stuttering. You barely had enough life in you to keep breathing, Joanne, and you were still pouring magic out into the world. We don’t do that. It would kill us. We’d be dead before we began. We can’t do that.”

  “You can’t.” I had no other argument, and barely enough energy for this one. In fact, I wasn’t having an argument. Maybe Dad was, but from my perspective it was a detailing of rote information. “I don’t know, Dad. Maybe it’s the two heritages. Shaman and mage. Maybe it’s being a brand-new sparkly fresh soul. Maybe it’s not being hobbled by tradition. Maybe it’s because I learned the hard way. Maybe it’s that I just don’t know what I can and can’t do, so I do it anyway. I mean, hey, yeah, okay, it’s pretty clear I shouldn’t try the flying-car stunt again. Or healing cancer,” I said with a sideways glance at Morrison. “But mostly the only way I find out I shouldn’t do something is by doing it. I don’t have any preconceptions, Dad. I have no fucking clue what I’m doing. I never have.”

  That wasn’t true anymore. I actually had a pretty good idea what I was doing now, and it had become clear that most of my limitations were self-imposed, failures of imagination rather than failures of raw power. I couldn’t figure out how to track magic, for example. I’d never been able to convince my slightly near-sighted eyes that it would be okay for me to heal them, though I had no doubt if I went in for LASIK surgery that it would work just fine. I accepted that I shouldn’t try healing major illnesses without a power circle to support me, at the very least. That kind of shit was dangerous, and despite my reckless behavior I wasn’t really trying to get myself killed. I just didn’t know where the line was until I crossed it.

  And when I got right down to it, I didn’t have a problem with that. I was not going to become increasingly conservative as I grew to understand my power more fully. In fact, backed by Rattler and Renee and Raven, I saw no reason why I shouldn’t become
less conservative, especially in cases where I’d learned where the lines lay.

  Looking at my father, at the worry pinching his face and at the barely restrained disbelief in his eyes, I thought for the first time that maybe I was more like my mother than I’d imagined. I’d never thought of Dad as conservative, but it was the first word that would’ve come to mind for Mom. The second one was stubborn, or maybe willful. The woman had concentrated herself to death, after all, to make sure she could be in the right spiritual place and time to save my tuchus more than once. It was inconceivable that she would let some piddling opinion like “you shouldn’t have been able to” stop her from doing anything. I rolled that thought around in my mind a few seconds, then spread my hands and shrugged. “This is how it works with me, Dad. You’re just going to have to get used to it. Now, what are we going to do about Petite?”

  My father looked at me for a long time, with much the same expression he’d often had when I was younger. It was the one I’d interpreted as “How the hell did I get stuck with a kid?” but now I thought maybe it was really more like “How the hell do I roll with the insane punches this kid throws?” After a while he shook his head and pointed his thumb up the mountain. “There’s a cave system up the road a ways. We can bring her up there and tuck her in. If you don’t know where it is, it’s hard to find.”

  The military was likely to be combing every inch of the mountain, and I doubted they’d miss it, but it was better than nothing. Maybe I could do something very rash, like bring a little rock-fall down over the cave mouth, except that would leave fresh scars for them to find, which would again defeat the point. And besides, the idea made me stumble with exhaustion, even though I wasn’t moving. Morrison tightened his arm around me and my father glanced at us, worry etching his face again.

  I hadn’t quite put that together, that he might thhis arm a be worried about me, and shifted uncomfortably. “I’m okay, Dad. I’m fine.”

  “You’re not,” he said stubbornly. “I told you. Your reserves are completely depleted, beyond anything that should leave you on your feet, and it’s not the first time that’s happened recently. What have you been doing, Joanne?”

  I wet my lips and frowned at the mountain above his head. It was certainly true that this wasn’t the first time I’d been totally wiped out in the past few weeks, but last time I’d gotten this flat it had been followed up by the most invigorating spirit dance I would probably ever encounter. I’d have thought that had fueled me sufficiently that the drain wouldn’t leave any marks, but I supposed running beyond empty left scars on any engine. “It’s a long story, Dad. We’d be here for a week if I tried explaining it all. Am I okay to get up the mountain?”

  “No. We could bodily carry you up there,” he said grudgingly, “but if we don’t do something about your reserves you’re not going to be any help if things go badly.”

  “Things will go badly,” I assured him. “Let’s get Petite into that cave and we’ll worry about the rest later.”

  *

  “Later” came a lot sooner than I expected. We rolled Petite up the mountain and into the cave, which is to say, Morrison and Dad rolled Petite up the mountain and into the cave while I steered with a focus and ferocity previously known only to kittens intent on a piece of string. I managed not to crash her, which in my book was a huge triumph. Proud of myself, I got out of the car. Morrison put me right back in, and dragged my drum out from behind the driver’s seat again. I stared at it like I’d never even seen it before. So did Dad, with more justification: he hadn’t seen it before, at least not with its new modifications. I’d just totally forgotten about it. After a while I mumbled, “Wish I’d remembered that was there. It probably would’ve helped with…flying the car.”

  When I said the words out loud it struck me just how amazingly stupid that stunt had been. I mean, I really had been utterly, absolutely confident of my ability to do it, which meant I’d been able to do it. But I would never be able to do it again, because I was now far too aware of the cost. Maybe if the choices were Morrison being eaten by monsters or me flying Petite again, but short of genuine life and death it was never gonna happen again. And really, that was okay, because although I didn’t want to tell Morrison, I could barely feel my arms and legs, never mind fingers and toes. I wasn’t at all sure I was still functional on any meaningful level.

  “Yes,” Morrison said dryly. “I’m sure it would have helped with flying the car, if any of us had been calm and rational enough to think of taking a drum out and performing some theme music for your James Bond meets Harry Potter special effects. But since we weren’t, now I’m going to drum until you stop looking like something the cat dragged in. Don’t argue with me.”

  I nodded mutely, and honestly didn’t remember more than the first beat or two of the stick against the drumhead. I had odd, flitting dreams of healing power washing through me, like I was one of my own patients, and every once in a while I felt my breath catch like maybe I’d stopped breathing and someone was getting it started for me again. The drumbeat broke through every few minutes, dragging me toward the surface of sleep before losing its grip on me again. It was pleasant, in a soft, surreal way. I could feel the earth’s weight abovs ry e me, its steadiness below me, and the stillness of the air within the small cave. I felt comforted, contained, safe. I wanted to stay there for weeks, though a niggling, uncomfortable feeling suggested that wouldn’t work.

  After a far-too-brief forever, Dad’s voice broke through my reverie. “We’re going to have to leave if we want to get into the mountains before dark.”

  “She still looks like death warmed over, Joseph.”

  “Her aura’s stronger.”

  Morrison’s sigh matched the last beat of the drum. I opened my eyes, unable to focus on the dark cave wall beyond Petite’s windshield. I wasn’t sure I felt better. I didn’t feel worse, though, and I could wiggle my toes with a reasonable confidence that they were still attached. It would have to do. I said, “I’m good,” and hoped I sounded more convincing to the men than I did to myself.

  I swung my legs out of the car, stood up, and swayed as hunger galloped through me. Morrison made an alarmed noise and I shook my head, hanging onto Petite’s roof a minute. “No, I’m okay. I am. Just getting my feet under me. How long was I out this time?”

  “Another hour. Not enough,” Morrison opined. I had no argument there, but it was astounding the military hadn’t found us yet as it was, so we really couldn’t waste any more time. I wobbled out of the little cave and glanced back.

  Petite barely fit in it, honestly. I supposed it was ever so slightly possible that when the military came around using radar, or whatever they might be using, that her big back end would make the whole stretch read as solid rock. It would be better, though, to hightail it into the mountains, find the missing tribe, and finish this thing before it turned into a new round of Indian wars. I tried concentrating on that idea instead of my stomach gnawing on itself as we headed into the hills.

  Helicopters and Humvees were audible in all the hollers, their engines echoing even when the vehicles were far out of sight. Dad maintained the shields, though every once in a while I noticed them shivering as his concentration lapsed. I fell back a few steps to walk with Morrison, murmuring, “He’s not all that good at this.”

  “Give him a break, Walker. Apparently it’s impossible.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m a little worried. I’m still tripping over my feet, and if something nasty comes out of the hills—”

  “Then you’ll flatten it and pay the consequences later.” Morrison didn’t sound especially happy about the prospect, but he did sound like he understood it was exactly what would happen. “Are you going to kill yourself setting this straight, Walker?”

  “I hope not.”

  “If it comes down to it?”

  He meant if it came down to me or Aidan, and we both knew the answer to that, so I didn’t reply. We walked for hours, very slowly, because I absolutely co
uldn’t move faster than I was doing. We stopped for water occasionally, and Dad found some of last fall’s apples. I didn’t even pretend to object when he and Morrison both passed their shares to me. I wolfed them down, burped the early warning of a cramped tummy, and didn’t care. The hint of food made me need more, but I felt a little better anyway, and we were all able to pick up the pace. Dad knew where he was going, and we were content to follow along.

  Just before nightfall, Dad dropped the shields. “We’re almost there.”

  I figured they’d be hunting for us with infrared at sundown anyway, so the shields didn’t seem to matter “Almost where? Is this some kind of retreat plan that’s been in place for decades, or something?”

  “In a way. It started out as a game, with some of the young people trying out their woods skills. A few of them were interested enough to ask the elders what they knew or remembered. A while ago it started to become a rite of passage for the ones whose heritage was important enough to them.” Dad deliberately didn’t look at me. I wanted to kick him, but refrained for fear of losing my balance. “There’s territory out here that nobody lives on, nobody camps on or explores. It’s hard to imagine when you think how close we all live together, but there’s a lot of land to live off still, if you’re willing to do it. Kids started coming out here for summers, and some of them, when things went bad at school, came out for the winters, too. There are always a few adults who keep an eye on the place, to make sure nobody gets hurt or in trouble, but we mostly let them get by on their own. They hunt and fish traditionally so nobody wonders about gunshots in the mountains. They do a good job.”

  I still felt like I was being reprimanded, but kept my mouth shut. I’d explored the hills some, but never gone this deep or imagined camping out for whole summers at a time. “So it’s the kind of place that people who were inclined to walk away from government interference in the Qualla would already know about.”