After the End (17 page)
THE FIRST NIGHT IT TOOK ME A WHILE TO PITCH the tent. After that effort, along with my exhaustion from walking around all day, I didn’t even mind the hard ground. I was asleep by the time my head hit the inflatable pillow.
Tonight, however, I have the tent up nearly as fast as Juneau did. After that resounding success, I decide to push my luck and attempt building a fire for the first time. Not because it’s cold—it’s a bit chilly, but not enough to merit the fire—I just want to see if I can.
To tell the truth, Juneau made me feel inept about all this outdoors stuff. But in L.A. why would I ever need to build a fire? I’m sure there are a million things that I know how to do that she doesn’t. I mean, she’d never driven a car. Before she stole mine, that is. I’ll bet she’s never used a computer. Although something tells me she’d probably pick that up quickly too.
It’s obvious that she’s smart. I wonder how long it will take her to get used to living in the real world. And I wonder just where it is that her dad and clan are. Although the rest of her story has panned out so far, kidnapping a whole commune seems a bit extreme. Then again, it would be pretty twisted if they had all picked up and left without her.
I build a little fort out of twigs and then add some bigger pieces of wood that I’ve gathered, like I saw Juneau do. And I’m about to try to light the pile when I hear a car coming down the dirt road. I freeze. No one’s come anywhere near my campsite, so far as I know, and I’m afraid some park rangers or police are going to arrest me for staying here since it isn’t an official campground. (I had seen signs for some of those, but they all cost money, and I’m seeing how long I can stretch my last five bucks.)
My first reflex is to hide, but if it’s the cops, they’ll just run my license plate and maybe even call my dad, since it’s his name on the registration. Before the vehicle comes into view, a large black shape flies straight at me, and I duck as it glides within inches of my head.
I spin to discover the bird—okay, Poe—perched with its head tipped to one side like it finds my startled expression hilarious. And then a red pickup truck pulls up to the end of the dirt road next to my car. I can’t tell who’s inside until they turn the headlights off, and then I see Juneau step out of the passenger side and walk slowly toward me. She’s limping slightly, and the serious expression on her face, combined with the fact that the driver isn’t getting out of the truck, tips me off to the fact that she wants to talk with me alone.
“Welcome to my campsite,” I say, gesturing with pride toward the pitched tent and fire-in-the-making. Juneau doesn’t even look at it. She’s staring directly into my eyes as she walks toward me, and for a second I’m afraid that she’s going to come right up and punch me. But she stops two steps away and stands, hands at her side, chin lifted in that proud way she does that usually precedes her saying something awful.
“I’m not here because I want to be,” she says. “I’m here because I have to be. I need you to keep traveling with me.”
“I thought maybe you had come to apologize,” I say.
“For what?” she asks, putting her hands on her hips indignantly.
“For drugging me and then forcing me to talk while I was in a drug-haze.”
“What about the fact that you were going to hand me over to your father?” she asks, and her voice is tinged with anger.
“I would like to explain that to you,” I say, and taking her hand, pull her closer. Her skin is warm, and I find my gaze pulled down to her mouth before skipping back up to her eyes. I lick my lips and try to focus. “Juneau . . . the reason I’m still here and not already back in L.A. is that I want to take you to my father so that he can see you’re not the person he’s looking for.”
“I’m not going anywhere that will keep me from finding my family,” she begins, slipping her hand out from mine. But then, seeing how earnest I am, she concedes. “Okay. Explain.”
“My dad owns a pharmaceutical company,” I begin. “There’s this new drug he wants to get his hands on—I mean, buy. But the guy he was doing business with disappeared. He heard that for some reason you were the key to getting the formula.”
“Me?” she asks, astonished.
“My description was a seventeen-year-old girl from Alaska, around five foot five, with long black hair and eye jewelry in the form of a star.”
“That sounds like me,” she admits. “But I don’t know anything about a drug. My people don’t even use medicine. All we had was a first-aid tent for cuts and broken bones.”
I know she’s telling the truth. Her confused reaction isn’t feigned. “I told him he had made a mistake, but he wouldn’t believe me. He sent some men to find you—the guys who were following you in Seattle. I saw them driving around yesterday. They’re here in Salt Lake City keeping a lookout for you now.”
“So if you know I’m not the one he’s looking for, why are you so eager to prove it to your dad?”
“I’ve been in his bad books since I got kicked out of school. I think the fact that I went to such lengths to find you, and prove that his sources were wrong about you, would redeem me. But I’m not going to force you to go with me if you don’t want to. And I’m not going to turn you over to his men, either.”
She waits, thinking before she answers. “Miles, I will go with you to see your father if you go first with me to find my clan. I can’t find them without you.”
“Why? What do I have to do with it? Did I say that while I was fortune-telling?” I can’t help a note of bitterness from creeping into my words.
“No,” she says, and her mouth quirks up in a smile. “What would you say if I told you it was revealed to me by some hundred-year-old possum bones?”
“I’d say it sounds just like you. And that’s fine: I’m ready to accept anything you tell me, as long as you don’t do anything to me without my knowledge. And as long as you don’t steal my car.”
Her grin is huge until she reins it in, opting for a closed-lipped smile. She holds out her hand.
“And that would be my cue,” comes a voice from the truck. A woman with a mane of red curly hair steps out of the cab and walks toward us. “I’m Tallie,” she says.
“Miles,” I respond, and she takes the hand that Juneau’s just let go of and shakes it heartily.
“Enchanted,” she says, and turns to Juneau. “So you’re good?” she asks, and something passes between them that tells me they’ve done some major talking. Juneau nods at her. “Thanks for everything,” she says.
Tallie hands Juneau her pack. “If you ever need me, you know where to find me,” she says. “Just make sure you keep it a secret.”
Juneau smiles. “Of course.”
They hug briefly, and Tallie heads back to the pickup and drives off into the night. Juneau and I stand there, neither knowing what to say.
“You look . . . different,” I say finally.
She looks down. “These are Tallie’s clothes. She forced me to wear them.”
“She forced you?”
“She hid my boy clothes and said I could either wear hers or go naked,” Juneau says, looking embarrassed.
It’s not like she’s wearing a dress. She just has on a pair of black jeans and a red V-neck shirt. But for once they actually fit. Juneau’s not skinny, and you wouldn’t exactly say muscular. But something in between. She’s so much shorter than me that I could easily pick her up. Of course, I refrain since I don’t feel like being punched.
“You look nice,” I say.
She grins. “You don’t look bad yourself,” she says, and her eyes stray to the fire I was building, “but that’s the worst-looking campfire I’ve ever seen.” I laugh and the tension is broken. Juneau goes over to rearrange the kindling while the bird flies over to the tent and makes himself at home.
Something is nagging at the edge of my consciousness. It’s a good feeling, but I can’t quite place it. And then suddenly I do. It’s a feeling of being where I’m supposed to be. A feeling of knowing that I’m in the right place at the right time. With the right person.
I watch Juneau light the fire, and the flames shine through her hair. It looks so soft that I want to go touch it. Run my fingers through the short tufts, that for once seem like she’s done something to them besides running a towel over her head. Tallie must have insisted on doing her hair as well.
“Do you want something to eat?” I ask.
“No, Tallie and I ate in the truck,” she responds.
“So how did you find me? Messenger raven?” Though I’m joking, I realize that until this moment, I hadn’t questioned the fact that this girl found me in the middle of nowhere. Probably because she took it for granted—it just seemed natural to her that (1) I was in Salt Lake City waiting for her, and (2) she could locate a lone boy in the middle of the mountains.
“We’re going to need to talk about that, Miles,” she says, sitting down next to the fire and rifling through her pack. “I know you don’t believe anything I have to say about the Yara, Reading, Conjuring, and all that, but—”
I hold my hands up. “Listen, I think it’s better if we avoid that whole subject.”
She doesn’t look at me. Just puts her face in her hands and squeezes her temples. “Okay,” she says finally. “What do you want to talk about then?”
“You were limping. Did you get hurt?” I ask.
She nods. “Whit and his men found me at the gas station—the place I left your car, which I’m glad to see that you found.”
I nod. I’m not even ready to talk about her grand theft auto adventure.
She continues. “I had to run off. Stepped in a hole in the ground and hurt my ankle.”
“And how’d you find . . . what’s her name, Tallie?”
Juneau nods. “Tallie actually found me. She has a house in the mountains, and I stayed there for the last couple of days.”
“How about the search for your clan?” I ask. “Do you know what you want to do next?”
“Well, I have a clue. Something else you told me when I Read you—I mean . . . when you were my oracle.”
I let my breath out all at once and feel tired.
“What?” Juneau insists, and there’s a challenge in her narrowed eyes.
“Maybe it would be better if we just made a plan. Besides the ‘Readings,’ do you have any solid indications of where your people could be? I mean, for example, is there a place they could have gone if they needed to leave your village urgently? Not suggesting that they would leave you on purpose, or anything.”
But she sees in my eyes that that’s exactly what I’m suggesting, and her face flushes pink. “Like I told you, they were kidnapped by men in helicopters,” she says, her voice low.
“But, Juneau,” I say, “you heard a helicopter and found your clan missing. I think you should be open to other possibilities.”
She stands, and I can see in the light of the fire that she is trembling. “Miles, we are not going to be able to do this if you don’t believe me.”
I stay seated. “Juneau, I
can’t
believe you. I’m sorry, but what you are talking about is magic. And magic is not real. And there’s no way you’re going to convince me otherwise unless you show me something I can see with my own eyes.”
Her face is scarlet, her hands squeezed into angry fists. “I broke your phone, you know,” she says, and her look is menacing. “You saw me do that.”
“iPhones break all the time. So that has a rational explanation.”
“What about Poe?” she asks.
“What about him? He’s probably been fed by humans before and is so lazy he prefers following you around so he doesn’t have to catch his own food.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” she says. “I used him to find you just now. I showed him an image of you in my mind and asked the Yara to have him locate you.”
“Okay, that’s weird, but I’m sure it can be explained.” I feel a twinge of guilt for forcing her to this point, but it has to be done. She has to accept reality.
“Don’t ask me to prove things to you now. I’ve just begun to work it all out in my mind.” She looks like it cost her every ounce of pride she possesses to admit that to me.
“You claim you were able to conjure Poe into finding me,” I say.
“That was really difficult. It took all afternoon.”
I shrug, as if to say,
See?
“Well, go ahead. Do something.” I feel like a shit for insisting, but I stand my ground.
Her eyes widen in dismay, and she gives me a look like the one thing in the world she wants to do is slap the smug smile right off my face. Turning, she limps over to her bag, digs around in it, pulls out the rabbit feet, holds them in her hand, and closes her eyes. She’s concentrating so hard that she looks like she’s about to explode.
I wait. “Is something supposed to be happening?” I ask after a moment.
Her eyes fly open, and I know that if she could shoot a laser at me out of her starburst thingy, she’d be doing it right now. “It’s probably the rabbits’ feet,” I hear myself saying, though I know I should keep my mouth shut. “Maybe the magic in them doesn’t travel well.”
She glowers at me, pure unadulterated hatred blazing her eyes, and then she pitches the rabbit feet forcefully into the fire, where they ignite in a puff of blue flame.
“Holy crap!” I say as she advances toward me, arms folded across her chest. “I didn’t mean you had to go all
Firestarter
and destroy your charm. I was just suggesting . . .”
My voice trails off as I begin to scramble backward. Forget the conciliatory Juneau of ten minutes ago, ready to make a deal so I’ll keep driving her. This girl is an irate goddess. A Fury. Five foot five inches, and she’s going to rip my head off.
“I’m sorry!” I blurt out, because I am—for all sorts of reasons. Sorry I tried to impress my dad by finding her. Sorry I’ve been making fun of a brainwashed girl for a delusion she can’t help. Sorry I egged her on just to make my point. “Honest, Juneau, I’m so sor—” I begin to repeat, but the words freeze on my lips.
Because Juneau has come to a stop three feet away from me. She gazes down at me, arms loose, fingertips grazing her thighs. And disappears.
It takes me about three seconds flat to throw my things together, toss them in the car, and leap behind the steering wheel. I turn the key in the ignition, throw the gear into reverse, and then . . . the car stalls with a wheezing cough of the motor. Juneau appears, illuminated like a slasher-film killer in the harsh glare of the headlights. One hand rests on the car hood and the other on her waist, as she regards me with an icy glare.