“That’s why she always sounded so distant.”
“It’s a good excuse, at least.”
“You weren’t the fan that Carlee was?”
“Sometimes you’re like a five-year-old with all the questions. How about we get some rest?”
“I’m not ready to sleep yet,” Jeff said. “But I’ll let you rest if you let me practice my pressing skills.”
“Have at it.”
Jeff closed his eyes and tried to convince himself, with confidence, that another log was burning on the fire next to him. Occasionally, he opened his eyes to check the fire, but he never found anything more than the coals twinkling as they cooled.
24 CHOSEN ONE
Something hit his head.
“Oh, good, you’re awake,” Stefani said. Her voice was back to its usual dry, sarcastic tone; the tenderness from last night was all but gone.
“I am now . . .” He stretched and rubbed his short hair. It was a bit greasy but not to the point that he was dying to jump into the river.
“Any luck pressing last night?” Stefani asked.
“Yeah, lots. Fought off old Horus too when it stopped by for a midnight snack.”
“Darn, I guess you aren’t the chosen one after all.”
“Chosen one?”
“Oh, yes, the chosen one. The most famous and important of all the vagrant prophecies. We hoped it would be you, but I guess we’ll just keep looking.”
“Is that a real thing?” It was impossible to tell whether Stefani was telling the truth or not. And he didn’t know if vagrants could make prophecies. Compared with other things he’d seen them do, it didn’t sound farfetched.
“Absolutely, it is very real.”
Jeff shook his head as he finished connecting his armor. None of the advanced hood features worked anymore, but aside from that, it wasn’t in horrible shape. The worst part of it was the number of bug splatters from their low-elevation flight. He decided he didn’t believe Stefani. When things were real, she usually mocked him for questions.
“Didn’t know you were such a morning person,” Jeff said. He wandered over to the small food reserves they had.
“Oh, there’s so much you don’t know about me,” Stefani said ironically. “But the scanner kept going off last night.”
“We’re good, though?”
“It’s been clear for a few hours, and it never got too close.”
“It?”
“Yeah . . . this scanner isn’t exactly what we used to have with the caravan, but it’s pretty good about picking up nearby Apostles.”
“There was an Apostle passing by here?” It was hard to overcome his natural reaction that he had spent his life feeling in regard to the Apostles.
“Not too close.”
“Which one? Was it Horus?”
“I don’t know. It passed by twenty miles or so from here, stopped for a few hours, and then kept going.”
“Twenty miles . . . was it at a community? Townend or Nula?” He wasn’t sure how far away from Fifth Springs they were, but he was certain they were close. The idea of Horus stopping by to destroy another community on its way home should have upset him more than it did.
“I don’t know, Handsome. But I think we should go check it out.”
“You want to follow after it? Aren’t we trying to run away from the Apostles?”
“What we’re trying to do is keep a handle on things until we meet up with Carl.”
“We saw that it passed by—isn’t that enough of a handle?”
“You shouldn’t be complaining about sweeping through wreckage.”
“I just—”
“Don’t worry. I’m sure we won’t find half a person who’s better looking than you.”
Jeff held his objections in. Stefani had saved his life on multiple occasions already, and his recent track record of decisions wasn’t his proudest accomplishment. But he was eager to find Carlee, and a dangerous detour wouldn’t help them reunite with her faster.
“Whatever you think is best,” Jeff said.
“You can always do your own thing if you’d like.”
“No . . . it’s fine. I want to stay with you, and that means you’re in charge. I get it.”
“We have a week until we have to meet her. This won’t be anything but a tiny detour.”
Jeff grabbed a granola bar and bit into it. He didn’t want to comment on Stefani’s ability to know what he wanted even if he didn’t say it.
“Can I have a flight suit this time? It’ll be easier for both of us.”
“I thought you were a pressing master after last night.”
“I just don’t want you to get rusty.”
“We’re not flying,” Stefani said. She picked up her sniper rifle and slid it onto her back, where some magnets under her cloak caught the weapon and held it in place. “We’re walking.”
“Twenty miles? I thought you hated that.”
Stefani started walking away from their small camp.
“Guess I’ll be carrying this . . .” Jeff said to himself as he picked up their supplies and started after her.
Traveling twenty miles by foot was a new experience for him. Jeff had never been part of the trade missions that ventured to the neighboring communities in the coalition. And only the braves had accompanied the old semis and the mayor’s antigravity vehicle on the extended envoys to the far-off communities in the coalition, like the ones in the ruins of Cincinnati and the peach orchards of what use to be Georgia.
The days the envoys would return were the only holidays that Jeff had ever appreciated. Different fruits, flavors, and treats from far away were enjoyed in feasts. Everett had gotten so excited one year he had wet himself, making Charlotte carry him back to their home while Chad had stayed with Jeff and Dane. It was a happy memory in a world that had offered so few of them.
Stefani eased the gun off her back as they neared the mossy remains of a long river ferry. Only the letter R of the once-proud vessel remained visible, as time had reclaimed everything else distinctive about the boat. She flipped her hood up for a moment before relaxing.
“It’s empty,” she said.
“Lucky for whoever might have been in there.”
Humans tended to take up residence in places like this; they provided shelter as well as a reminder that their species had once been a proud one. As they passed by three corpses, Jeff looked away; he’d seen enough moldering remains for one lifetime. From the looks of things, whoever had last lived in the ferry had died a few months ago.
The sight of dead people had been more common when he was younger, but the bulk of the human race had long since turned into brittle bones. Their cars, roads, houses, and waste had a much longer shelf life than the humans who had created them, which Dane had insisted was ironic.
Stefani was oddly nontalkative as they continued their journey to where the sensor had indicated that an Apostle had stopped. He assumed the device tracked temurim, but Stefani didn’t know how it worked. He wasn’t sure if she was focused on their trek or if he had done something to upset her. He ran their conversation over in his mind before giving up. She was acting more like Carlee, quiet and reserved, than like Stefani, who had always been boastful and fun.
“How long did it take you to learn how to press?” Jeff asked, breaking the silence.
“An afternoon,” Stefani said without bothering to look back at him.
“Really? Wouldn’t that make you the chosen one?”
She didn’t respond, so Jeff let it sit for a few minutes before trying again.
“How long does it usually take? I’ve been trying for a while now, and I don’t feel like I’m getting any better at it.”
“There is no average, at least not that I know of. Lots of people learn how to do it on their own without any help. Our last project took a couple of weeks. The twins took two days. Carlee didn’t press anything for about six months.”