“Ever play hide and seek when you were a kid?” he whispered.
“Yeah. But I usually took a book with me and hid so well no one could find me so I could be left alone to read.”
“You bring a book this time?”
“Have a couple in my bag. Too dark right now though.”
He smiled but then his expression dimmed. “Once, when I was a kid, I wanted to beat my brother at hide and seek, so I went outside the safe zone to hide. It was a pretty good spot until I realized I wasn’t alone in the dark.”
“The wailers?” I whispered.
He nodded. “We call them nightstalkers. But yeah, I barely made my way back into the sunlight in time. Luckily, they gave up the chase.”
“You didn’t tell me you had a brother.”
He smiled sadly. “Had.”
“Sorry.”
“Yeah, me too. You sleep at all?”
“Barely.”
“Close your eyes, if you can. Try to rest. The others will be awake soon.” He smiled gently.
My head cushioned on my arm, I closed my eyes and tried to sleep. Very soon it would be done. I was doing the right thing, the logical thing. Ash could be as mad as she wanted when I found her. The important thing was that I found her. And I would.
I woke a short while later to the sound of voices and the purr of the trolley’s engine. I peered outside to see that Bodi was gone. It was almost dawn. The first rays of the sun illuminated the horizon, and the sound of the wailers’ calls had fallen into the distance. They had returned to the mountains and to the dark places in Hell’s Passage.
I heard Legba, Bodi, and Enrique. The trolley shifted as people moved in and out. It felt like an eternity before Ramsey’s, Gutierrez’s, and Carrington’s voices joined the conversation.
The heat picked up as the sun rose. I closed my eyes once more.
Courage, Keyes.
I heard the gate roll open and the sound of the voices of the residents of The Park. They’d come to say their farewells. I hoped no one noticed I was missing. Terror lodged in my heart at the thought that Carrington might go to my house to see why I hadn’t said goodbye. Would she stop me before I even had a chance to leave? They would all probably assume I was angry so I’d stayed away. That would work.
I wrapped my hand around the little abalone shell I wore. My mother would have been brave enough to do this, as would my father. I was no different from the rest of my family.
The trolley drove over the rise and down the ramp toward the old road that led across the wasteland to Hell’s Passage. I heard the gate to The Park squeak as it rolled shut behind me.
The gears on the machine ground, then the trolley picked up speed.
I had made it out.
“I’m coming for you, Ash,” I whispered, squeezing the necklace tight.
Chapter 15
We had ridden for some time when the trolley finally came to a stop.
I heard Legba and Enrique talking. The word “lighthouse” was the only word I caught clearly. The lighthouse was the midway point between The Park and Low Tide and sat along the river. The dry riverbed was the shortest route between Low Tide and us. Since we didn’t have any working vehicles like the trolley, all trips to and from Low Tide had been done via the river. Both communities would shelter at the lighthouse overnight then continue on their way the following day. The lighthouse, however, was accessible by land. There had once been a fine dining establishment nearby. Like the Bozo’s menu, there had also been a menu for The Lighthouse Inn’s restaurant in our archives. No pictures were included, but the menu descriptions were vividly detailed. I still remembered the description of pasta carbonara. I could only imagine how it tasted, but I imagined it to be divine.
The trolley shook as someone climbed to the roof. I recognized Bodi’s boots.
“Ready to go have an argument?” he asked, bending down to untie the tarp.
“Certainly.”
He pulled away the ties and pushed back the tarp. Lending me a hand, he helped me up.
I grabbed my bag. Following behind Bodi, I climbed down.
“She’s coming down,” I heard one of the sisters inside the trolley say.
“Oh, this is going to be good,” the second sister answered.
I climbed down the ladder then turned toward the entrance of the trolley to see Legba and Enrique standing there. Legba wore a wide straw hat. He tapped the brim of it when he saw me then smiled. Enrique lowered the map he had been reading and looked at me. A myriad of emotions crossed his face. First surprise, then anger as he clenched his jaw. He took a deep breath. “I should make them take you back,” he said.
“No, friend,” Legba said. “The Dead Troupe only goes forward.”
Enrique frowned. “Keyes…”
“I’m sorry. I just… I had to come.”
“We are trying to protect you in case there was trouble…in case Ash and the others didn’t make it. We didn’t want you to see if—”
“If she is dead,” I said. “I know. I understand.” And that was the truth of it. What they had all skirted around saying. They didn’t want me to see it if Ash had been killed.
Enrique frowned. “Be careful what you wish for. It’s not me you’ll have to answer to when this is all done,” he said then turned back to the map. His brow wrinkled in frustration, his jaw clenching and unclenching. Clearly, he was upset, but he kept himself in check. “The turn is here. The lighthouse is seven miles in this direction. There is a small village, some houses, a few businesses.”
Legba looked from Enrique to the road ahead. “The way is clear?”
“It was two years ago. No one takes this path anymore.”
Stroking his chin, Legba thought it over. “We’ll go as far as we can.”
Enrique folded up the map. “Very well. I will take the bike or go by foot if we can’t get in any deeper,” he said then went back inside.
Legba chuckled then came to me, setting his hand on my shoulder. “This man is too serious for me.”
“For most people.”
He tilted his head toward the trolley door. “Come inside and drink some water. It must have been a hot and bumpy ride.”
He motioned for Bodi and me to follow him.
I crawled onto the trolley, not knowing what to expect from the others in the Dead Troupe. I was sure that Ramsey would not appreciate the Dead Troupe interfering in community matters. It would strain trust between the troupe and our leaders. At the same time, I suspected most people at The Park would sympathize with me. Either way, the Dead Troupe had pushed a boundary with The Park’s leaders on my behalf, a fact that was not lost on me. Regardless, I was met with smiles except for Enrique who had sat down in the passenger seat and was studying the map. He did not look up at me, an act that looked to take some effort.
“Well, that was truly disappointing,” Nara said, patting a spot on the bunk beside her. “I thought you might get into a tussle.”
I sat down beside her. I was about to answer when the little bald man sitting across from us spoke up.
“Violence is not always the best answer,” he said as he sharpened a knife on a whetstone.
Bodi cleared his throat.
When the little man looked up, Bodi motioned to the knife.
“What?” the man replied with a wink.
“No, but I wanted to see what Keyes had in her,” Nara said with a grin.
The others chuckled.
I swallowed hard, hoping desperately the conversation would end. I didn’t like Enrique much, but I didn’t dislike him either. He was a reliable member of our community. He was, as Legba said, too serious. But he was not a bad man. I eyed the little man with the knife. “You have to forgive me. I don’t think I ever learned your name,” I said, hoping to redirect the focus of the conversation.
“Sparrow,” he said, looking up at me with a smile. I noticed he was missing several teeth and had a deeply weathered face.
“Nice to meet you.”
<
br /> He nodded. “You too. They told me there was a girl on the roof. I thought Bodi might have stolen a bride.”
“Very funny,” Bodi said jokingly. “Are you saying I’m so ugly I’d have to steal one?”
“Yes,” Sparrow replied.
The sisters and Bodi laughed.
I gave Bodi a soft smile. No. Definitely not ugly.
“We’re going. Settle in,” Legba called.
Bodi slipped onto a bunk the next row down and looked out the small window. Manderly was somewhere in the back digging through supplies. Tiny sat at the back, taking items from Manderly’s hands as she passed them to him.
I slid to the end of my seat and watched out the dashboard window as we turned toward the river. I pulled my own map from my satchel. Those who had gone before us had marked off the landmarks that remained.
We passed through a small village. On the map, it noted that this community was called The Meadows at the Lighthouse. I gazed out the front window. Some meadows. All that was there now was dirt, thorny shrubs, and red vines which seemed to grow on everything. Some of the fiction novels in the library talked about ghost towns. The Meadows at the Lighthouse fit the description perfectly. Buildings made of stone or brick still stood, but their empty or broken windows felt like black eyes watching us. Large Victorian period houses, sturdily built, still stood but were choked with vines. Some smaller wooden structures had collapsed entirely. We came to a small downtown area where rusted-out cars sat parked. The buildings on this block were made of brick. I edged forward in my seat to look. Most of the buildings were two stories and connected together, or nearly. There was a keystone at the top of one building that marked its construction in 1879. The windows in the shops had been broken long ago. Inside the shops, I noticed fallen shelving and other remnants of the past. Legba drove slowly down the street, his eyes combing the buildings.
“Good place for wailers to hide,” Sparrow said, casting a glance out the front window. “Probably a lot of basements. The brick keeps it cool inside.”
Nara nodded.
Lyra, who was lying on the bunk above us, said, “Look. Clothes shop,” she said. “Legba? Clothes shop.”
“Not now, dove,” he called gently.
“There’ll be more in Hell’s Passage,” Nara said.
Lyra sighed but said nothing else.
As I stared out the window, my mind tripped over itself thinking about the fact that this place had been so close to The Park all this time. Yet we never had the means to travel here quickly enough. My landsailers might be able to make it this far and back. I’d have to do some calculations. There were loads of things to scavenge here. Everywhere I looked, I saw something useful. When I finally found Ash, we would need to consider returning here, keeping Sparrow’s warning in mind.
We passed through the small downtown.
“There,” Enrique said, pointing to a turn. A faded and rusted road sign indicated that the lighthouse was further to the east by three miles.
Legba turned the trolley. He was only able to make it part of the way when he came to a roadblock. Long ago, someone had placed cement road dividers in the way. A tangle of rusted-out cars and choking vines growing over everything blocked the path. There was no safe way to get around without risking the trolley’s tires.
“Just two miles to go. I can go by foot,” Enrique said.
Legba rose. “We will go with you. Tiny, bring weapons. Nara, Lyra, you stay here with Sparrow. Bodi, Tiny, Manderly, and Keyes will come with us.”
Enrique shot me a sharp glance. He opened his mouth to protest but thought better of it. Instead, he gave me a stern look then headed out of the trolley behind Legba.
I followed behind them. Once I got out, I climbed up the ladder to the top of the trolley and pulled out my monocular. I scanned the horizon. I could see the roof of a tall building nearby, but no lighthouse.
“Are you sure we’re in the right place?” I called down to Enrique.
“You don’t see anything?” Manderly asked.
“No. And, I would think, a lighthouse would be visible from this distance.”
Bodi joined me on the roof and looked out across the horizon. He frowned. “Nothing,” he added.
Enrique looked at the map. “The sign and the compass both indicate it’s this way,” he said, pointing ahead.
Tiny handed guns to Manderly and Legba.
“Let’s have a look,” Legba said, motioning for Bodi and me to come along.
We crawled back down and followed the others. Tiny handed Bodi a pistol. He slipped it into the back of his pants.
“How about you, Red?” Bodi asked.
Tiny held out a small handgun to me.
I shook my head.
Tiny smiled, shrugged, then stuck it back in his pocket.
“I can show you how to use it,” Bodi said.
“I know how to use it. I just don’t want to.”
Bodi grinned. “Stay out here long enough, and you’ll change your mind.”
“My sister is the strong one,” I said with a chuckle. “I just…”
“Fix things? Strong is a matter of perception.”
I raised an eyebrow at him.
He grinned but didn’t say anything else.
We climbed over the partition, careful not to get caught up on any of the rusty barbed wire or on the jagged metal edges of the cars. We headed down the street. Huge trees once lined the road. Several had fallen into our path or had dropped on one another. I gazed at the massive trees as we walked. It was almost like they had fallen into one another’s arms, helplessly overcome by the sun. Red vines with sharp thorns twisted up the trunks, choking the life out of them. The idea of it made me feel sad.
I spotted the remnants of houses and other small buildings as we walked, but mostly everything had collapsed. The trolley was out of sight when I spotted a very tall building ahead of us. When we finally reached the structure, both relief and foreboding washed over me.
“We’re in the right place,” I said.
The others stopped and turned to me.
I pointed toward the building. “The Lighthouse Inn,” I said. “The sign by the door. See it? You can just make out the faded shadow of a lighthouse painted on it. This place was what they called a bed and breakfast. People could stay here overnight and dined here.”
The windows on the inn were covered with plywood. Much of the building was overgrown, and it looked like part of the roof collapsed. The porch had become detached from the house and had fallen down completely on one side. Most of the paint had flaked off.
“Good. At least now we know,” Enrique said. “Let’s go.”
“Pasta carbonara,” I whispered.
“What did you say?” Bodi asked.
“They served pasta carbonara here.”
“What’s pasta carbonara?”
“Pasta carbonara. Handmade fettuccine noodles in a rich crème fraîche sauce with applewood smoked bacon, farm-fresh eggs, organic parsley, garlic, and grated Parmigiano-Reggiano.”
“Did you just read me a poem?”
I smiled. “I think so.”
“That sounds…”
“Amazing?”
“Miraculous. I have had garlic and eggs. Does that count?”
“Not even close.”
Bodi smiled.
“Is it weird to crave food you’ve never had?”
“No. I spend an inordinate amount of time thinking about the internet, which doesn’t exist anymore. I mean, think about all the knowledge that’s just gone. At least, maybe one day, if you scavenge and get lucky, you could eat pasta carbonara.”
“Yeah, maybe,” I said. Not that I got to do any scavenging at The Park.
Refocusing away from pasta carbonara, I eyed the skyline again. Ahead of us, the landscape dipped, and the road turned east. A worn sign indicated a turn to enter the parking lot for the lighthouse. Maybe the lighthouse had just been obstructed by the landscape?
Enrique pulled h
is weapons, and we moved quickly down the slope and around the bend. We entered the parking lot at a run, expecting to see the lighthouse. Once we made the final turn, however, we all stopped.
What was left of the lighthouse sat before us. The top of the structure had burned. Only the top of the metal spiral stairwell remained. The building had burned almost to the ground, but the bottom of the structure, which was made of stone, remained intact. It was only charred.
For a moment, I didn’t breathe.
No one moved.
Trying to stay calm, I moved toward the structure. Enrique joined me, his gun drawn.
The others followed behind.
“Keyes,” Enrique cautioned. “If someone burned them out, they may still be—”
“No. It burned from the top down.”
“Top down?”
“No one burned them out. The fire started at the top of the building. Lightning, maybe. Or maybe something caught fire in the top of lighthouse. It didn’t burn beyond the foundation very far,” I said, looking at the charring on the ground. There was some evidence that the brush nearby had burned, but nothing beyond. The fire had contained itself.
I stepped close to the ruin of the structure. I held my hand out. There was no residual heat. Frowning, I looked inside. There was nothing left except the metal stairwell. There was no evidence of anything. And, most importantly, there were no human remains.
My hands shook. I stepped away from the ruins and walked upriver toward the riverbed.
“Keyes?” Enrique called.
Kneeling, I eyed the ground. I rose and began to move slowly. Scanning as I moved, I walked toward the river then stopped. There, near the base of a bush, I spotted a bootprint. The branches on the brush were broken. I crouched and glanced ahead. At this angle, I could see that someone had passed this way. They had crushed the vines and bent the branches.
“What is it?” Enrique asked.
I turned to find Legba, Enrique, and Bodi standing behind me.
“Bootprint,” I said. “Someone passed this way. Look,” I said, pointing.
I rose and followed the path. The lighthouse sat on a bar that stuck out into the river. When I reached the edge of the bar, I knelt once more and studied the stones. I could clearly make out multiple sets of tracks.
Scorched: The Last Nomads (The Burnt Earth Series Book 1) Page 9
