She hugged him, very hard, and he felt hot tears on his cheeks.
After a minute, she whispered, “There’s still a reason why we need to do things my way, check me out and see if you agree, ’kay?”
“I’m listening.”
She sat still. Larry heard only the wind in the pines, and the soft scurry of something small moving through pine needle duff.
Finally she said, “I volunteered as a scout so it’d be easy to escape when the time came, once I figured out what I could take along as proof of what was really going on. And then of all the stupid things the lame-weenie Blue Mornings ambushed me. I must’ve been the only slave they ever took, which is why they were so hard to escape from—it was like being a miser’s last dollar.”
“Bad luck happens to the best.”
“‘Along with everybody else.’ I used to hate it when you’d say that to me about my driving and my partying. But here’s the thing. If the tribes were just a bunch of thieving-ass bush hippies with their heads full of prison-paganism and dumbass crystal-worship, I’d figure, hey, they’re just plain old social scum like I used to be. But they’re something a whole lot worse, and if we just went back to Pueblo, and I told my story, nobody’d believe me without investigating, and there’s no time to put an expedition together, let alone find a way for them to see what they need to see. But if you come along and I show you, they’ll take your word for it without any ‘further investigation’ or ‘more research needed’ or any of that bullshit which there ain’t time for. I just don’t want our side to lose three months we don’t have. That’s what it is.”
“It’s that bad?”
“Whatever ‘that bad’ means to you, it’s worse.” She stood. “We can make it to a Gaia’s Dawn scout post by midmorning tomorrow if we walk through the night.”
“All right. Lead me.”
Shortly after moonrise, she said, “Dad?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for taking my word.”
The moon rose higher. With more light, they made better time, half-sprinting over rises that were almost as bright as day, then plunging into hollows that, from above, brimmed with darkness, but down in them, the stars seemed to shine especially bright.
ABOUT AN HOUR LATER. PUEBLO, COLORADO. 12:30 AM MST. SATURDAY, JULY 19, 2025.
Arnie felt slightly silly about feeling as good as he did. He’d had a few beers. Samson and Ecco had accepted and welcomed him into the beerand-hanging-out circle of, as they dubbed themselves, Jedi Rednecks, and introduced him to the few other serious martial artists in the circle. It was so friendly and comfortable. Nobody asked him to judiciously frame an exact thought; it was warm and fun and there hadn’t been much just-let-your-hair-down in his life lately, or at all, ever, really.
Arnie had always liked country music (initially because it annoyed the crap out of his sophisticated parents). And it was so flattering that they wanted him to help teach the beginner classes.
The dark, empty street seemed so much friendlier, till Aaron fell silently into step beside him.
“I just came from martial arts practice and the bar. Maybe I’m not real controlled; startling me might be a good way to get stabbed.”
“Oh, Doctor Yang. Going slumming with the working class, I see. Looking for some bovine blonde in a cowboy hat—a cowgirl, or some might say a cow-girl—to fill the wide open spaces of your heart?”
“That’s none of your damned business.” Arnie was stalling as he tried to bring his list of questions to the forefront through the beery fog.
“Well, I can hardly fault you for enjoying respect, friendship—and who knows, maybe love—where you can find it, considering how things have been going with your friends and supporters.” Their feet beat out a soft rhythm for a block before Aaron spoke again. “So you are interested in how long Daybreak has existed, Doctor Yang? How long has God existed?”
“For those who believe in him, I suppose forever.”
“Do you believe in God?”
“Do your questions just keep getting more personal?”
Aaron tugged the blanket tighter around himself, and muttered, “Poor Tom’s a-cold, eh? The king and the fool. It’s the fool’s job to ask hard questions, that’s all. Not really personal at all, you know. At all. But if you don’t believe God exists, you do believe the concept or the image or the idea of God exists, don’t you?”
“I see where you’re going,” Arnie said. Gah. Sophomore solipsism. “So for believers, their idea of God is the creator of the universe, so there has always been God, whereas unbelievers would just say God came into being sometime after people came into existence. What the fuck’s it got to do with Daybreak?”
“You know, better than anyone, Doctor Yang, Doctus of the Doctrine and the Doxology where all Documents are Docked into the Docket, Doctor, that worrying about whether information is relevant is the surest way to prevent learning anything. Aren’t all your troubles caused by everyone wanting something relevant right now instead of waiting for you to look into something interesting? How can you start complaining that something is interesting but—”
The voice had become softer and softer, and after a moment Arnie said, “Not relevant?” and turned to find he had said it to the empty street. And that means I wasn’t watching him, either, for at least a full minute. Oh, man, no more walking by myself when I’ve been drinking, and I need to get Heather in on this.
That thought seemed to bring back the happiness from the evening at Dell’s Brew. Once I tell Heather what we have, we’re going to be able to move so fast. I’m going to crack this Daybreak thing.
The last couple of blocks to his house, he walked with his hands in his pockets, hugging himself with his elbows, surprised by how well things were going and how many friends he had. The world after Daybreak was really, honestly, not so bad at all, at least not for Arnie. Interesting how it’s not relevant.
THE FOLLOWING DAWN. HELLS CANYON. 5:20 AM PST. SATURDAY, JULY 19, 2025.
The cliff fell almost vertically away from their feet. It was still night below but the river reflected the indigo of the dawn sky. Before them, a great fan of mighty razor-edged ridges rose directly up from the water into a high palisade veined with dark rock and darker crevices, sawing into the dark cloudless sky.
“There’s a path on both sides that connects to a bunch of rocks that you can cross on, if you’re lucky and the water’s low,” Debbie explained.
“Cold as hell down there, I bet.”
“Yeah. And dark. But if we start climbing down now, when we get there it’ll be light enough and warm enough.”
“Is that what you want to do, Deb?”
“Naw, I want to spend three weeks in pre-Daybreak Vegas with a no-limit credit card.”
He laughed. “Damn straight. I’d join you, just for the casino hot dogs.”
Debbie grinned. “On the other hand, I think what we ought to do is very carefully climb down to this place I know: a nice sheltered spot under a rock overhang, about half a mile and three hundred feet down from here, right by that hidden trail. Since we haven’t heard a trace of pursuit, I think we could chance a fire. On my way out of camp I liberated some beef jerky and a box of Jiffy, so if you’ve got a mess kit—”
“Happens I do.”
“Cornbread and soggy warm jerky for breakfast, get all the way warm, maybe a nap, how’s that sound? You bearing up okay?”
“Better than okay, I think. Let’s go.” He stretched. “If I’m too old for this stuff, I’m still too young to admit it.”