by Jim Stein
***
“What about Norm?” I asked on the ride home. “Did the bastard see anything?”
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Pete shot me a sideways look, then glared at the road ahead. “You’re treating everyone like crap.”
Did I have to list it out? I’d spent all night and day saving his family business and driven myself to the brink of exhaustion only to have his punk-assed cousin staring at me like…like I was some sort of freak. For that matter, my good buddy there wasn’t looking nearly as overjoyed with me as he should.
“He looked suspicious, and I don’t remember anyone so much as saying thanks for the help.” I punched the jacket wedged against the door into the semblance of a pillow. My head still throbbed, my joints ached, but at least I didn’t have hypothermia this time.
“Seriously? All the high fives, whooping, and hollering about your awesome light show wasn’t enough for you?”
I stuffed my face into the makeshift pillow and wished he’d drive faster. I’d been on my butt in the dirt while the farmers danced their jigs. The fools didn’t even know what they celebrated. They just saw bugs caught by a pretty light show, except maybe Norm. His beady eyes were all over me once the action died down.
Piper met us at the house, full of questions as usual.
“Was it a sign from the gods?” My sister was half-exuberant and half-admonishing as she led me to the couch. “Jeez, Ed, you really overdid it.”
“It was a sign from mother nature,” Pete said.
“Just bugs,” I corrected. “Stupid, mutated bugs.”
“You used Fire?” Piper asked.
I nodded and let my head rest on the cool leather arm. “Plus Spirit to draw them in to a buffet.”
“You have to slow down.” Piper produced her notebook and scowled at my grimace. “I’m serious. We already know how badly healing with Fire saps your strength. You borrow from your future health, like taking out a loan to repair damage. Pete tells me you almost froze to death yesterday. Using magic doesn’t just make you a little tired like we first thought. Even Pina agrees there’s no free ride.”
“Speaking of the munchkin, we needed her. Off gallivanting again?” Pina could have called in those bugs without giving it a second thought. Funny how she always disappeared when there was work to do.
“What spell makes him cranky?” Pete asked…the bastard.
“Hard to say.” Piper flipped through her precious pages, as if seriously considering the question. “I haven’t fully mapped out Spirit and Earth yet. There only seem to be three core spells for each element, but variations do occur…”
Psychoanalyzing me? Just wonderful. I’d had enough of that as a kid. My childhood traumas were bad, but now I was getting on with life. I already had two sets of parents and didn’t need this pair weighing in.
I must have nodded off because Piper and Pete had moved their discussion to the kitchen. I blinked at the cookie brushing the tip of my nose. Ralph perched on the sofa back, holding out the disc of goodness. The scent of chocolate, sugar, and vanilla made my mouth water. The little guy loved his sweets, and his gesture had me clearing my throat like Dad.
“Thanks, buddy.”
Ralph gave a sad little smile, but brightened when I snapped the cookie in two and handed half back. We munched contentedly, the prattling of my sister and best friend not nearly as annoying with a mouthful of bliss.
“Hello?” Dad called from the foyer—my real everyday human dad, not the often absent Koko.
“Living room.”
The front door creaked open and hard-soled shoes crossed the tile entry. Dad wore his usual slacks and a powder-blue dress shirt, but his tie was pulled open. It was unusual to see him with a hair out of place, let alone the mussed up mop squatting over his haggard face. His smile accentuated the circles under his eyes, eyes that went wide as his finger flew up to point at me and…
Oh crap! I glanced back at Ralph, panic rising in my chest. The imp pried a big hunk of chocolate out of his cookie, tail slapping happily against the leather. “Uh, I can explain!”
“Talk fast, son.” Dad’s lips compressed, his accusatory finger wagging in negation. “Cookies before dinner? Mom has a big pot of chili simmering. Piper promised you would all bring your appetites.”
“Oh.” I risked a glance back at the imp. Dad just couldn’t see him. “No problem. If she says we’ll be hungry then we will.”
“Hey, Dad!” Piper strode in from the kitchen.
Pete followed close and choked on his own cookie when he saw Ralph.
“Mom says the chili will be ready in an hour.” Dad handed her two yellow sheets of paper. “I pulled some strings and got your leave of absence approved. Land Rover will be ready tomorrow. The new tank holds close to a hundred gallons, but fill it every chance you get. Your mother is worried enough about you two, but at least you shouldn’t run out of gas.”
“Thanks, Daddy. You’re the best.” Piper kissed him on the cheek, which brought a fond glimmer to his tired eyes.
“See you kids at dinner. I have to get out of this monkey suit.” Dad spun on his heel and headed toward the front door.
“Wait! Everybody slow down.” I had to have heard wrong. “Time off? Hitting the road? What’s going on?”
Piper had the good grace to look embarrassed as she twisted a strand of red hair around her index finger. “You know I’ve always wanted to travel.”
“Sure, but—”
“Mom is worried sick about you being alone on the road.” She studied her nails.
“I know, so—”
“So, it’s the perfect solution. Plus my SUV is way more comfortable, and there’s room for Max too!”
I turned pleading eyes on my father. He looked from me to my sister, comprehension dawning as his eyebrows climbed up his forehead.
“So…dinner at six.” He gave a little cough into the tense silence, took three more steps, and paused. “Almost forgot. Mom wants you down at the hospital for C-12 testing before you two leave on Monday. It’ll only take a few minutes.”
I stared after him, dumbfounded. I was so close to escaping, to following Quinn and the band. But now I’d be saddled with my sister—and my dog? I’d just started to feel human after the fiasco on the farm, but a sullen resentment welled up. I didn’t trust myself to hold a rational discussion so headed for my lab. A cool dry hand wrapped around my index finger. Our imp looked up with glistening eyes and held out the last bit of his cookie.
The air whooshed out of me, taking much of my anxiety with it. I gently pushed the offering away and scratched behind Ralph’s ears. He bit down, smearing chocolate over half his face. Having company on the road wouldn’t be all bad.
10. Head West Young Wizard
I NTERSTATE EIGHTY was interesting, dog drool…not so much.
“Max, it isn’t that hot!” I flicked slimy drops off the map.
“Stop putting things on the center console,” Piper said. “He looks through the front window at every stop.”
And we stopped frequently. I-80 was a major artery cut through the forests and plains of the United States, but nature reclaimed much of the highway. Maintenance had been abandoned on the eastbound side of the divided highway so traffic now flowed in both directions on the west. Not that we passed many vehicles. I counted ten trucks and two cars since leaving New Philadelphia four days ago.
We traded off driving for most of our daylight hours, but progress was still slow. An occasional stretch of road might be smooth enough to get up to sixty miles per hour but could abruptly turn into deep potholes or frost heaves that bounced the big vehicle airborne. We only managed about two hundred miles a day.
Getting to the major thruway had involved a network of smaller roads, and curiosity got the better of me near Pittsburgh and Cleveland. I made Piper detour to inspect the first two concert venues. Placards and posters still decorated the walls around dark ticket booths. I imagined Quinn’s bass filling the halls, but the arenas h
ad been quiet as mausoleums.
In addition to dealing with the crappy roads, we had to contend with deer that didn’t have enough sense to get out of the way when a big black machine hurtled toward them. Bambi vs. SUV encounters lessened as the forests gave way to plains.
We stopped often to refuel, empty our bladders, or catch a few hours’ sleep when a hotel popped up. The cities were in rough shape—of course, they were largely abandoned. Unlike New Philly, not all governments consolidated to a nicer area. Many towns kept their original boundaries, as though holding to the decay might breathe new life into the dead sections.
Empty I could handle, overgrown I could handle, but people moved through the decay like maggots in rotting meat, blindly existing. I wasn’t judging. My wizard’s sight showed “things” among the ruins, stalking them, and drinking in their pain. Koko spoke of dark forces that fed of human despair. I never got a clear look at one, just fleeting impressions of twisted, hungry shapes. Piper was just as uncomfortable in those places, and Max’s stiff tail and raised hackles were always a good indication we needed to move on. We never lingered long enough to investigate.
The changing landscape was fascinating at first, but rolling hills and flat prairies grew monotonous. The scattered farms would have made Pete drool. Big robotic combines rolled over carefully tended crops, mostly corn. Who backed the massive operations and where the food went were mysteries. Hopefully, the Eastons had recovered from the locust plague and Ralph wasn’t causing any trouble.
“Day after tomorrow, we should hit Omaha.” I fingered the fold running down the east edge of South Dakota and Nebraska. “We’ll be able to make some calls.”
“Good. I want to make sure Ralphy hasn’t been in my dresser again.”
Pete solved the problem of what to do with the imp by volunteering to house sit. Plenty of sweets and a few chunks of meat kept Ralph happy, but preparations for the trip upset him. Piper caught the imp sleeping among the suitcases on more than one occasion.
We didn’t have the luxury of a shortwave setup, and our cell phones pretty much laughed on the rare occasions we tried them. Omaha’s communication hub would let us call Pete, our folks, and Main Line Studios. That last was important to ensure we didn’t miss the band. Some of their return engagements were off the I-80 corridor. The last thing we needed to do was rocket past them.
“Try this next exit.” I squinted into the setting sun at the outline of buildings to our right. “Looks like a pocket village, and I need a cold drink.”
I coined the term on our second day out. Along the freeway corridor, fuel stops were marked with big reflective signs, but often consisted of one lonely attendant and little else. Occasionally, we found an exit that bustled with activity. The name village fit the quaint communities, which did business with travelers and truckers and often had a boarding house or small hotel.
“A bed would be good too. I’m sick of these seats.” Piper edged over into the far lane.
I knew right away we scored a village by the smooth street and freshly painted buildings. Max and I spilled out of the car the moment Piper parked. It felt good to stroll across manicured grass instead of choking weeds. Max got a sudden case of the zoomies and tore back and forth across the lawn, tongue flapping out from his doggie grin.
“When you two are done goofing around, can we check in?” Piper leaned on the car and pointed at the brick building across the parking lot. A hand painted placard above the neon vacancy sign read “Olga’s Inn.”
We entered at a wave from the gray-haired woman who bustled about dusting the office. Vestiges of black-streaked, frizzy hair framed her dark round face. Mrs. Robbins—by her nametag—wore a black skirt and sleeveless white top in deference to the Iowa heat.
“Welcome, I’m Olga.” She put down her duster and hurried behind the counter. “What can I do for you kids? My, what a big poochy.”
This last was added with a smile for Max. I breathed a sigh of relief. We’d run across enough people who didn’t trust him, which was understandable given the number of half-starved dogs roving the cities.
“Two beds and hot water for one night?”
“Two beds, hmm.” She raised an eyebrow and consulted a book on the counter.
“I’m Piper and this is my brother, Ed. And of course Max.” Piper’s introduction appeased the woman’s curiosity.
“I have an end unit on the ground floor so you can get your boy outside easily. If you need food, the diner across the street is open late, but their full menu only runs till eight. Let me know if you need to make any calls.”
“You have phones?” I asked.
“Don’t look so shocked, sugar. It’s pay as you call, but yeah, three separate land lines patched through the Omaha network. Reliable twenty-four seven I’m proud to say.”
Al’s Diner served hearty home-style dishes. I enjoyed pot roast and potatoes. Piper had beef and corn taco salad. Max wolfed down the scraps back in our room while Piper and I traded the old-style hand receiver back and forth, trying not to get the cord tangled. Three calls cost us about the price of dinner, but the luxury was worth every penny.
After ten minutes with Mom and Dad, we were both ready to go for a walk, but needed a bead on the band. It was after hours at the station, so I left a voicemail saying we would call in the morning for the band’s status. The last call was to the house. Pete picked up on the third ring and sounded tired.
“Hey, Pete, how’s our boy?” A crash in the background led to muffled cursing.
“No worries, Ralph’s doing just…fine” Now he sounded out of breath.
“Is someone over?”
“Keep him out of my underwear!” Piper called over my shoulder.
“All good, Ralph’s helping me with some clean up.” Pete’s laugh was brittle. “Was that Piper? Say hi. How’s the road treating you guys?”
“Not bad, but it’s a mess out here.” I described the cities we’d seen. “And bad things scuttle around the people. I couldn’t get a clear look, but it gave me the creeps.”
“Shit, steer clear of those. Koko told you to keep a low profile. Is your uh…protection working?” He whispered the last bit, well aware of my sister’s concern about my spells.
“So far so good.”
Doing any magic near Piper resulted in an argument, so I refreshed my daily hiding spell while Max did his morning business. Silly really. She was the one enamored with the occult, while I got hamstrung by her paranoia and what had to be jealousy. Not that we’d had much need for spells on the road, except of course in keeping me from getting undue notice.
“I gotta call the station tomorrow to see if the band has changed any dates.”
“They did make a few adjustments.” Wind blew across the phone on the other end. “They’re headed back east and were near Salt Lake City a couple of days ago.”
“Why are you outside at night?”
Running feet crunched along with the wind.
“Hey, buddy, I have to go. Great chatting. Talk to you soon.” He hung up.
“I fear for my house,” I told Piper as we got ready for bed.
***
“The imp!” Koko demanded, holding out his hand as if I could pull Ralph from my back pocket, which would have been a neat trick given I was wearing the stupid tribal breechcloth again.
“Just give it a rest,” I said.
Heat from the fire scorched my legs. Rather than the cheery little teepee of wood that normally lit the adobe walls, flames leapt high from the haphazard pile of logs within the stone circle. Roaring flames licked and swayed in response to a nonexistent breeze. Koko jerked his head in violent denial, and the flames whipped forward blasting heat.
“It does not belong, and you do not understand.”
“Then help me understand, damn it!” I was so over the enigmatic god crap. “What’s up with you?”
Koko’s scowl deepened, but he snapped his mouth shut rather than answer. Those beady black eyes, dark as coal, looked me up
and down, dissecting and weighing. When he spoke, it felt as though a switch flipped. His raspy voice went calm, devoid of emotion.
“Keep the imp then. But I must know if your friends find more. Stay hidden and practice your gifts.”
“Yeah about that…” How should I put this? “Piper and Pina think I’m overexerting myself. That my spells are costing more than I know.”
“Pina”—the flames roared high, but settled back before he continued—“worries. It is her nature. Your magic has limits, but I am watching.” He studied me once again in his unsettling way. “Step to the fire.”
Yeah, like that was happening. I was roasting alive as it was. Yet even as I scoffed, I found my toes touching the circle of stones. Heat baked through my clothes and skin, burning off a weight I hadn’t known I carried. I couldn’t breathe the thick hot air and stumbled back to gulp down blessed coolness.
“Better,” Koko declared with a nod. “Keep watch along the road you travel, Edan. We will talk again.”
“Talk? This was…” What, a lecture? The room faded into the gray of Tokpela. “Wait!”
“Our lovely sprite has enough on her mind.” The wooden flute appeared in Koko’s left hand, mouthpiece resting on his lower lip. “Let us not worry her about such small matters.”
I tried to say more, to demand to know what he had against Ralph and what the fire had done to me, to ask what lurked in the cities. But the words would not form. Gray spread about me, smothering, soothing. High, clear notes fell from his flute and carried me back to sleep.
***
“Say again. You’re garbled.” Hassan’s voice was crystal clear on my end, so I didn’t think it was the connection.
“We will be in Omaha tomorrow.” I shielded my eyes against morning sun streaming through our window and spoke stupid slow. My mouth felt like I’d eaten cotton balls dipped in baby powder. “Where is the band?”
“The A-Chords play Reno for one more night, then head back through Salt Lake City. Let me get the full schedule.”
He read off the itinerary as Piper scribbled notes and Max pushed his head under my left arm. I needed to get him outside soon.
