Sometime later, the truck passes. Aura is the first to feel the noise in the ground, willing the dark things around them silent and still. The faint beam of its headlights comes in their direction, then fades away along with the sound of the engine.
“Are they gone?” Estajfan says, from where he lies on the ground. Heather is still asleep beside him.
“I think so,” Aura says. On her other side, Petrolio is tense, waiting.
“I broke that boy’s leg,” Estajfan whispers. “I didn’t think twice about it. He didn’t do anything to me.”
“They captured and hurt you,” Petrolio reminds him. “That’s not nothing.”
Estajfan nods. “Still,” he says, “what are we going to do?”
“They’ve passed us,” Petrolio says. “They don’t know where we live or where we’re going. Why can’t we just go home?”
Aura doesn’t look at Estajfan, but she knows what he’s going to say.
“What about Heather?”
“What about her?” Petrolio spreads his arms out wide. “We came to rescue you, Estajfan. You’re as much a part of the mountain as we are.”
“But we aren’t a part of the mountain,” Aura says. “Not in the way that we want to be, not if we continue like this.”
“Like what?” Petrolio cries, waking Heather, who sits up, watching them all.
Aura thinks of their long-ago life on the mountain, just the four of them, the wild animals, the sky. For a moment she’s overcome with longing. Da, she thinks. Da, you were right.
But then, he’d also been unhappy. Hadn’t she known that the best?
If there’s no place for them on the mountain anymore, where else can they go? She pushes the thoughts away and addresses Heather. “They’re heading for the city,” she says. “What do you want to do?”
She can see the longing on Heather’s face—except that she’s not longing for the mountain. She wants her girls, she wants Estajfan, she wants all of it. She wants the life that used to be.
“I need to go back to the city,” Heather says, finally. “I need to say goodbye.”
24
When Brian wakes, sometime in the early morning, he writhes with pain. Since they have nothing to give him for it, Moira and Darby each take turns murmuring words of comfort in his ear, soothing him as best they can.
They can’t see outside of the truck; they have no idea where they’re going. They sleep and wake and sleep and wake again. Occasionally JJ stops and they get out to pee. The engine doesn’t blow.
And then, finally, they come to a stop and hear the driver’s side door open. JJ steps down and says something, but Moira can’t hear what.
“Is he talking to someone?” she hisses. Darby is already at the back door. The latch sticks; he bangs it, yells.
For a moment nothing happens and Moira’s breath catches. This is it, she thinks. We’ve been ambushed. We’re all dead. But then the door unlatches and JJ stands in front of them. Beside him are three women, all as thin and dirty as they are.
Moira can’t help it; she’s so astonished to see the women she practically falls out of the truck.
“Easy,” says the woman who catches her. She’s tall and blonde. “Are you all right?”
“You’re—you’re real,” Moira gasps. “You’re alive.” How many green roads have they driven down since the scream? She can’t help it; she clings to the woman, sobbing.
“It’s all right,” the woman murmurs. “I understand.”
When Moira finally gets herself under control, Darby is shifting from one foot to the other, and JJ stands silent, staring at the ground.
“Where are we?” Moira asks.
In answer, the women step back from the truck and point. Moira turns and there it is—the remnants of a city and beyond them, a mountain that rises into the sky.
She’s never seen a mountain before, but right now she’s more interested in the women. “Who are you?” she asks. “Does JJ know you? Is that why we’re here?”
“JJ?” the blonde woman says. “If by JJ you mean Joseph, then yes.”
JJ shrugs. “JJ is what my mother used to call me,” he says. “My wife called me Joseph.” He lifts a hand in the direction of the tall woman. “Moira, this is Annie. And this”—his voice is strained here—“is Elyse.” Another blonde, small and gaunt, breathing with difficulty. “And this is Tasha,” he says, motioning to the woman beside him. The smallest of the three, dark and silent. He clears his throat. “Moira, she’s a doctor. Annie’s a nurse.”
“Help,” Moira says, instantly. “Brian needs help.” She scrambles into the truck, the small woman right behind her, to where Brian lies.
The doctor—Tasha—drops to her knees. Her hands move over his leg—fingers that know what to do. “What happened?” she asks.
Moira swallows. “He was—trampled.” She motions to the makeshift splint. “I tried to stabilize his leg, but we were in a hurry and all I had were branches…” She’s weeping again.
Tasha puts a hand on Moira’s arm. “You did the best you could. You did an excellent job.” She calls to the people gathered at the edge of the truck. “Annie, we need to get him to the clinic. Can you”—nodding to Darby and JJ—“help me lift him?” Then she reaches down and grasps Brian’s hand. “This is going to hurt,” she says. “I’m so sorry.”
The boy passes out again on the way to the clinic, but his screams linger in Moira’s head like an alarm. She turns to face the doctor. “Is it infected? Is he going to lose the leg?”
“I don’t know yet.” The doctor is walking briskly after the others. “I need to see.”
“Here,” Moira says, running to keep up with her. She fumbles in her pocket. “I found this. If you need it.” She hands Tasha the scalpel.
Tasha takes it gingerly and holds it up to the light, an odd expression on her face. “Where did you get this?”
Moira waves a hand back in the direction they’ve come from. “Back—there. Far away. It was just on the ground.” She wills herself not to cry. “I took it—for Brian. In case I needed to use it.”
Tasha stares at the scalpel in her palm for so long Moira starts to feel uneasy.
“What?” she finally asks. “What is it?”
“Nothing.” Tasha shakes herself. “It’s just that my mother told me stories about a scalpel like this. It’s part of why I wanted to be a doctor.” She puts the blade back in Moira’s hand and folds her fingers over it. “Keep it. I have more. And you might need a weapon.”
You might need a weapon. Moira suppresses a shudder. When they reach the clinic, Joseph is waiting for them.
“Did you ask her?” he says. “Have they seen it?”
“Ask me what?” Tasha says.
JJ is silent for so long Moira wants to scream. “We saw something,” he says, finally. “Farther south, close to the water. I don’t know what it was. Half man, half horse. We had it with us for a night, and then it… escaped.” He sounds sheepish, and suddenly Moira feels it too.
But the small blonde has overheard them. She doesn’t look surprised. “Centaur,” she says, and the word slices into Moira, inevitable and perfect. “You saw the centaur.”
Brian doesn’t lose the leg—at least not that night. As Tasha and Annie work over him, Moira watches from her perch near the front door, the night wind cutting softly through the broken front window.
She’d offered to help, but it’s clear that these women have worked together for a very long time—they move in sync, the tools that Tasha asks for already waiting in Annie’s outstretched hand. Her other hand holds a flashlight, illuminating the mess. Brian is delirious with pain and drifts in and out of consciousness. When he moans, Moira stirs at her perch.