After the recording of her confession was made public, most of the town acknowledged that Charlotte was at fault for the crime. But a certain quality made her less likely to be outcast: Charlotte was a woman, still young enough to get married and have more kids. There weren’t many like her in Gulch.
Louis Blake and Midas Ford spent a week campaigning and negotiating with the ministers and elders of the town. Since the fall of John Meacham, Midas Ford had turned the place into a democracy. The citizens of Gulch could now vote on many issues over which they had previously lacked control. Blake and Midas came to the conclusion that only by letting the town decide Michael’s fate could they possibly hope to maintain its stability—keeping in mind that he hadn’t actually broken any laws and therefore could not be executed or permanently exiled.
The vote against Michael was overwhelmingly one-sided. If he hadn’t committed the crime of rape, he was bound to commit it at some point. If not against Charlotte, then against her sister. Arielle was the “daughter of Gulch,” as many women put it; the one last representation of innocence among them. It was only a matter of time before Michael corrupted her.
They agreed on one thing: Michael had to go.
Blake and Midas worked out an agreement with the ministers; Michael could return in six months and try his luck then, but he had to bring back proof of his commitment to the well being of Gulch.
He had to return bearing gifts, or not return at all.
“It’s our last night together for a while,” Michael told Arielle, sitting on his motorcycle at the foot of the driveway, his face inches from hers. She had come out of the house—the boys’ house, not the pink one at the end of the street—and was dressed in sweat pants and a T-shirt. Luckily the night was warm. Michael pulled her in for a kiss.
“I don’t want you to leave,” she said.
He looked her in the eyes, strangely confident that nothing bad would happen. He didn’t want her to worry, but he didn’t mind knowing she did.
“Come on,” he said, sliding forward to make room. “Get on.”
He drove up a sloping path that wound through the forest toward the rim of the box canyon. It was cooler up here, the trees less fragrant and the air thinner. The chirping of insects, along with the solemn whispers of the wind, carried softly in the background.
They sat nestled against each other on a rocky ledge overlooking a faint cluster of lights still glowing in the heart of Gulch. The sky was dominated by stars, twinkling clusters visible among sweeps of cosmic dust and gas. An asteroid cut its course across it all, followed by another a minute later.
“You don’t really have to go, Michael. This is stupid.”
Arielle had crossed her arms and was pouting. Michael rubbed her back.
“It’ll only be for a few months.” He pulled her close, pressed his cheek against the warmth of her scalp. “I even know what I’ll bring back.”
She gave him a searching look. “What?”
He smiled at her. “A new life, for those who want it. You’ll see.”
“Please don’t do anything dangerous.”
“Don’t worry. I’ve got it under control.”
She sighed. “It’s warmer down in the canyon. Let’s go for a swim.”
“A swim—you mean, in the lake?”
She nodded, eyes wide and reflective beneath the stars. Michael was speechless. They hadn’t brought bathing suits. If the town found out, they would think—
“Don’t worry so much,” Arielle said, rising to her feet. “It’ll be nice. And we’ll be really quiet.”
When they arrived, Michael did a quick scan to see if anyone was nearby. They were alone. The only sound they could hear now was the shhhhh of the twin waterfalls plummeting into the lake. The water was warm enough not to be dangerous, and they could use telepathy to fend against the cold.
They undressed in the dark of a small cabin beside the lake. The cabin had been cleaned and restored by Peter, Eli, and Ian for occasions like these, when they might come up here with a girl to go swimming in the lake.
In the near-darkness inside, Michael watched Arielle’s pale body appear from her dropped clothing with all the wonder of a young boy watching a butterfly emerge from a cocoon. He’d never seen her naked before.
They ran the short distance to the water. Soon they were neck deep in the water, the muddy floor soft against their feet. Michael used a form of light hypnosis to convince himself and Arielle that the water was pleasantly warm.
Still, she shivered.
“This is crazy,” she said, voice elevated to be heard over the waterfalls.
Michael drew her trembling body against his and held her. “It’s safe.”
She let out a childish giggle and swam away from him.
“Hey,” he said, reaching out to grab one of her kicking legs. “Where are you going?”
“Away from you. I know what you want. I can feel it.”
“You and your empathic abilities,” he said, swimming toward her.
“No, dummy. Not your emotions, your—you know.”
He caught up to her. “My what? You can’t even say it.”
“No way.” She snorted laughter, then wiped her nose. “Don’t make fun of me.”
“Come on,” he said, reaching for her. “Say it. My what?”
She spoke in a giddy whisper that he almost didn’t hear over the roar of the waterfalls. “Your—switch.”
Michael burst into laughter. “Where did you get that?”
“Shut up.”
She dunked his head into the water. When he came up, gasping and sputtering, he felt Arielle’s lips against his own.
“My switch,” he said. “Peter and Eli are going to love that.”
A look of alarm came over her. “Don’t you dare! You better not go around talking about our sex life.”
“Sex life? What sex life?”
She blushed. He couldn’t see it, but he sensed it; a growing warmth radiating from her mind, one that always caused her cheeks to color.
Michael took her chin in both of his hands and pulled her toward him, enjoying the way he could make her glide smoothly through the water. “That part can wait if you want. I don’t care if I have to wait ten years to make love to you.”
“Seriously? You wouldn’t care at all?” Her eyes widened in disbelief.
“Well”—he shrugged—“it wouldn’t be my first choice, but—”
She silenced him with a kiss. “I want to. Tonight.”
“Are you sure?”
She nodded, studying his reaction. For several seconds, neither of them blinked.
“I’m sure,” she said. “But first, I want you to make the water hot.”
“How hot?”
“Scalding.” She smiled mischievously.
Michael let the command pass soundlessly from his mind, and a moment later the temperature rose in the water around them, steam lifting inches off the surface, making them sweat. It wasn’t real, of course, but their minds—locked together like joined hands—made it real.
What happened after that was no illusion.
“We can’t tell anyone,” she said, breathing hard against him, their bodies pressed tightly together. “They won’t understand.”
“I know.”
He led her back to the cabin, where they dressed and made love once more before returning to Silo Street. When he awoke the next morning, she was there at his side, snoring lightly.
“I’ll come back,” he whispered to her. “I love you.”
From out of Arielle’s dreams came a hazy reply.
Happy...
Chapter 4
Before Michael left that morning, Eli and Ian confronted him in the garage. Eli blocked the door with his massive frame, even crossing his arms over his chest. He looked like a bouncer standing before the main entrance of a nightclub like the ones Michael would often pass back in New Sancta City on his way to the black market.
“You’re not going anywhere until you t
ell us what the hell’s going on,” Ian said.
Michael dropped his pack and glared at his friends. “You know already.”
“Tell us where,” Ian said. “We might need to go out east and get you. Ever think of that?”
Michael nodded and looked at his motorcycle leaning on its kickstand across the garage.
“I’m not going east,” he said.
Eli and Ian glanced at each other in confusion.
“I’m going west, to the H. Targin Kole Diplomatic Station.”
Michael had recently become aware of this new labor camp east of the Line, where Kole kept captured soldiers from the NDR. It was obvious the man was trying to make a point by placing it in enemy territory—that he wouldn’t be intimidated by his neighbors to the east, and also that he could own whatever land he wanted regardless of boundaries.
Eli threw his arms up in frustration. “That place is a prison camp. What in the spiteful wrath do you expect to do there?”
Ian made a psssht sound with his lips. “Isn’t it obvious? This is a recruiting mission.”
Eli squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them again and violently shook his head. Michael wanted to smile at his theatrical gestures. He was going to miss the big guy.
“No way,” Eli said, approaching Michael like he wanted to fight. “This is a suicide mission is what it really is. Did you tell Arielle what you’re up to?”
“She knows,” Michael said. “And it’s not a suicide mission.”
“Might as well be,” Ian said before storming out, making sure to slam the door behind him.
Eli threw his arms around Michael. “Don’t get caught, buddy. Watch your ass, okay?”
“I will, big guy,” Michael said, awkwardly patting his broad back. “See you in a few months.”
The entire town gathered to see him off, even those who despised him. A few brought signs labeling him a rapist and a murderer, but those were soon taken away by other townspeople and destroyed on the spot. Michael got on his motorcycle, surrounded by his friends. Louis Blake, Midas Ford, Reggie, Dominic, Eli, Ian, Fran, Sally, and Arielle all stepped forth from the crowd to wish him a safe journey.
Dominic put his hand on Michael’s shoulder and squeezed hard.
“You get your ass back here in one piece,” he said. “Or I’m gonna go out looking for you. Remember what I said about being impulsive.”
“I know, Dom. I’ll be careful.”
Reggie pulled Michael’s backup pistol out of his side bag and inspected it. “This one’ll jam up on you after a while. Here. Take mine.”
He pulled his own—a shiny .357 magnum with a black grip—out of his side holster and held it grip forward.
“Your Smith & Wesson,” Michael said. “I can’t take that.”
“You can, and you will.”
Michael took the revolver, savoring its weight and heft. The gun was worth more than his motorcycle, for sure. Eli and Ian also brought gifts. Eli gave him a pair of aviator sunglasses Michael had long admired. Ian gave him his favorite hunting knife, more for good luck than anything else. They also gave him a zippered leather pouch that Peter had wanted him to have since he and Rocio couldn’t come to see him off.
Arielle was the last person to wish him luck. She kissed him deeply and looked at him with tears in her eyes.
“I love you,” she said.
“I love you, too. I’ll be back before you know it.”
“You better.”
Wearing the sunglasses Eli had given him, Michael started up the motorcycle and rode out of the box canyon, the sun warming his face, the cool air rushing past his ears. A thought entered his mind briefly before he pushed it away for good.
Charlotte hadn’t said farewell to him. Maybe this meant the drama between them was finally over. In that case, it was the best gift anyone could have given him.
“Exile,” Warren said, lowering the binoculars.
His lips were dried and cracked because he couldn’t stop licking them. Next to him, Dietrich injected himself with yet another shot of Selarix. They had been hiding in the mountains for days, watching the people of Gulch go about their daily lives. Now and then patrols came around to sweep the area, but Dietrich and Warren had figured out ways to avoid them. The drug protected them from being sniffed out by telepaths. It also sped up Dietrich’s mind and strengthened his ability, making them both undetectable.
Except now they couldn’t stop taking it.
“Go easy on that stuff,” Warren said.
“Shut up, please.”
Something was going on at the mouth of the canyon, where the town’s main road led out into the mountains. They had just watched Michael Cairne embrace a series of people, including a pretty blonde girl that he kissed for several seconds before turning away toward the road beyond. The girl cried as Michael shouldered his pack, which seemed big enough for a month-long journey, and turned away from her.
Two boys, one husky and blond and the other skinny and angry-looking, talked to Michael for a couple of minutes. Dietrich desperately wanted to hear what they were saying, but knew better than to use his ability.
Damn. The urge to use it was strong, too. He was tired of waiting around in the woods with this hillbilly asshole next to him all the time, who never shut up, constantly cursing the people who had wronged him like it was the world’s fault that he was a lowlife piece of shit.
But they needed more time to plan before making a move. These boys were dangerous.
Dietrich studied Michael’s backpack as the boy rode off. Was it mostly weapons in there, or maybe survival gear? He had two pistols holstered on his belt; that much was clear. But what else? And what was he doing going off on his own like that?
“We need better intel,” Dietrich said. “Even if we have to torture one of your people to get it.”
“They’re not my people anymore,” Warren said.
“Either way, we need to find out where Michael Cairne is going and exactly how long he’ll be gone.”
Warren licked his lips and smiled. “I know just the right person.”
Inside one of the abandoned houses in the Hollows, Charlotte peered through a grimy window. She held William close to her and watched Michael speed away on his motorcycle.
“Mama, can we go now?” William said.
“Sure, baby.”
He limped toward the front door and opened it, allowing sunlight to spill across the scuffed floorboards and the chipped walls. Charlotte stayed by the window a moment longer, studying the dust Michael’s wheels had lifted into the morning air.
“Bye, Mike,” she said before following her son out the door.
Chapter 5
William ditched his mother as soon as possible to play with the bicycle Dominic had given him for his birthday. Now that he was nine years old (Dominic had explained this to him) he should have his own set of wheels.
His mother had disagreed—no surprise there—so William had been stashing the bicycle in the woods, knowing that if she found it, he would lose it. Lately her paranoia had reached new heights; whenever he left the house, she would grow visibly upset, as if she thought he would never come back.
William rode toward the lake where he figured he would find Aidan and his friends. As he approached, he saw four of them, including Aidan, smacking each other with long sticks. They called it stickboxing, and it was something the telepaths did during training. They’d blindfold themselves and try to sense where the other fighter’s stick would land. William had never done it; the boys had never allowed him to stickbox because of his foot. But he was a telepath, and they weren’t, which meant he was way more qualified now.
He felt in his pocket for the knife.
It was a switchblade, closed at the moment, but he envisioned the shining blade snapping open in his hand, and the look of terror on Aidan’s face when William would flash it at him. He’d found the knife in Michael’s house while delivering tomatoes one Saturday afternoon. He had slipped it into his pocket without
a second thought.
“Hey, it’s the cripple,” Aidan said. “Coming to watch us fight?”
William limped across the grass, wearing normal sneakers instead of the boot his mother always made him wear. With each step, he pictured himself becoming more and more like Michael Cairne; tall, confident, in total control of the power in his brain just waiting to be unleashed. Today would be his day of release.
“I want to fight you,” William said, stopping a few feet away from Aidan.
“Oh boy, look at the cripple. He wants to fight.”
The boys laughed and began to limp around, eyes crossed, mouths hanging open like idiots. William’s face grew hot until finally he reached into his pocket, pulled out the knife, and snapped it open the way he’d been practicing. A quick flick of his wrist was all it took.
“Give me a stick and fight me, Aidan. Unless you’re too scared.”
Aidan and his friends froze and stared at the blade. They didn’t know William was a telepath, but he would show them. He would get his hands on a stick, and he would show them.
“You’re a crazy cripple,” Aidan said. “You know that?”
“Stop calling me a cripple.”
“You put the knife down.”
“No. Fight me.”
“Hell no.”
“You’re afraid,” William said, his voice low and his eyes peering up dangerously from beneath his brows. Somehow he could sense Aidan’s fear like a coolness radiating off the boy’s body.
“Yeah right,” Aidan said, turning to one of his friends. “Barney, get that stick and take him down.”
Barney, a wiry boy with a gap between his front teeth, sneered at William and started walking over.
“Not you, Barney,” William said. “I want to fight Aidan.”
Barney kept walking.
“Not you”—William’s voice rose into a shout—“Get back.”
Barney fell back on his butt, his mouth gaping open like someone had just given him a squashie. A tiny whistle had begun in William’s ears, coming from deep inside of him. The other boys were stunned.
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