Forever the Road (A Rucksack Universe Fantasy Novel) (50 page)

“All this happened because of Jay,” Ammar said. “He made a choice that defied destiny.”

“Destiny pulled him along and he didn’t always choose well,” Rucksack said. “All along we thought he was to kill the Smiling Fire. But if he had, none o’ you would have been able to come back. In the end, Jay did better than destiny.”

“Do you think he knew that?” Ammar asked.

“We’ll never know how much he knew,” Rucksack replied. “And how much he decided while dealing with what was in front of him. Not in this life anyway. Here we can only be grateful for what he did.”

“We can do more than that,” Ammar said, looking at Jade. “He died and we lived, but there are ways he can live on.”

“I know you’re going to rebuild the city,” Jade said. “But he wouldn’t have been a man for statues or monuments.”

“Those are things for the dead,” Ammar said. “He always seemed a man for the living. How about we start with a new pub and hostel? We’ll call it ‘The Jay.’”

Jade laughed. “The name may need some work. But yes, that sounds like a good way to remember him.”

“Will The Management have a problem with that?” Rucksack asked.

“I don’t think so,” Jade replied. “I’m sure they’ll be in touch, though. Agamuskara is still Agamuskara, and there will always be a Jake or Jade here.”

“I’d heard it told he was the world’s greatest traveler,” Rucksack said. “But all that matters to me is he was my friend. He screwed up but he made good. He gave all. He’ll still be a traveler, though.” Rucksack grinned. “Someone like Jay, he’d know that death isn’t a destination. He’d remember that there are no destinations. There are only more journeys, and it’s up to you to decide how your experiences make you who you are.”

“What do we do now?” Ammar asked.

“I think I can help with that,” Rucksack replied.

The people, adults and children alike, saw the three of them pick up Jay’s body. The children fell silent, and along with the adults they gathered close. No one gave any instruction or spoke a single word, but all the people formed two lines, stretching out from the obsidian block, in the direction of the Agamuskara River.

Jade stood in front, her arms stretched high, holding Jay’s shoulders and head. Behind her, Ammar’s red hands supported Jay’s torso. And at the rear, the dust gone from his black clothes, Rucksack held up Jay’s legs.

“The man who gave all,” Rucksack said.

“The man who gave all another chance,” Ammar followed.

“And we will always remember him,” Jade finished. “Jay of the road.”

They walked between the lines of people. No one spoke. Some bowed their heads. Some raised joined palms to their chests in namaste.

In their eyes,
Jade thought,
they all know what happened. They know how Jay died and why. They know what Ammar and I are. What will they do with that knowledge?
She sighed.
In time, maybe I’ll find out.

As they passed each person, with every silent glance the goddess of choice and new beginnings shared her hopes for them, her hopes for the city, her hopes for their futures and for their children’s futures.

And as they passed each person, each one said a name, or sometimes multiple names.

“Saakaar.”

“Utsavi. Pranav.”

“Labuki.”

“Debjit. Ecchumati. Tista.”

“Giridhar.”

“Bavishni.”

Jade could feel their sadness.
The Smiling Fire took someone from everyone here,
she thought,
but these survivors have no bodies to grieve over. There’s only Jay’s body. Through him, they mourn those they lost.

Each person chanted a name, then kept repeating it. Some sang low and with a hum, or high and with a remembered serenity, or stuttering and with a voice that was almost a wail. Instead of dissonant, the voices and names wove together in a song. A song of the burned city. A song of the dead. A song of the love that lived on.

As Jade, Rucksack, and Ammar carried Jay’s body to the end of the lines of people, they came to the river and the song reached a perfect unison. For a moment, the names and notes hung together in the bright air. They grieved, but out of love they would live fully again, rebuilding homes, regaining work and family, singing new songs that could overpower fire.

Then, name by name, the song faded until all the people were silent and still.

Everyone looked at the goddess. “Let it all be better than it was,” Jade said. “Let us all be better than we were.”

Including me.

The people stood by the shore, amidst the wreckage of boats and a few that, like other random things in the city, had remained untouched by the Smiling Fire.

“That one there,” Rucksack said, nodding. “Jay and I… The boat knows him well. That’s the only one that’s right.”

Some people moved the boat down into the water. Jade, Rucksack, and Ammar gently laid Jay’s body in the boat.

Another person had brought Jay’s backpack and handed it to Jade. She raised Jay’s head and laid it on his daypack like a pillow. Ammar set the large backpack in the end of the boat by Jay’s feet.

Rucksack laid Jay’s folded hands on his chest. For a moment, he stood with Jade and Ammar between the boat and the shore, their heads bowed and hands joined. Jade and Rucksack looked at each other then stepped forward to push the boat into the current.

“Wait.”

They stopped and turned around.

Mim and Pim walked through the crowd, down to the boat.

“What are you doing here?” Jade asked.

“In the end,” Mim said, “he gave it freely.”

Rucksack glared at the two men. “Did you know this would happen?”

Mim and Pim shrugged.

“What happened, happened,” Pim said. “But if Jay is going on his final journey, it’s only right that he have this.”

Pim reached into his pocket and took out a soft, blue light. He handed it to Mim, who opened the small booklet of Jay’s passport.

“We said that we would fix it,” Mim said. “And we did.”

Mim raised the passport so everyone could see. There was only one visa page, and on it was stamped the world.

But not just stamped, Jade saw as she looked more closely. It wasn’t a sticker either. There were too many colors and shades. Brown and black, blue and green, gold and silver. The white clouds even seemed like they were moving.

“What is that?” Rucksack asked.

“The last visa he will ever need,” Pim said.

“He can go anywhere and everywhere now,” Mim said, tucking the passport under Jay’s hands.

“What good will that do him?” Ammar asked.

Pim pointed north to the horizon. “Enough that she said it must be done.”

Larger than all the other mountains of the world, the mountain stood so high it touched both heaven and earth.

“Besides,” Mim said, “all right and good must be done for the dead, if only to remind us of the right and good we should do for the living.”

Rucksack snorted. “You know much about that, do you?”

Mim and Pim stared up at a spot above Rucksack’s head. The two men smiled.

“More than you may think, Faddah Rucksack,” Mim said.

“In time, you’ll understand,” Pim said. “Maybe even when next we meet.”

The men raised their hands in the namaste. “Farewell to you all,” Mim and Pim said. “For now.”

Then Mim and Pim walked back through the crowd and were gone.

Rucksack stared at the mountain. A small smile came to his face. He nodded to Jade and together they pushed the boat out into the current. As the small boat bobbed on the waves, already it seemed smaller as it went north toward the world mountain in the far distance.

“Where will the boat take him?” Jade asked. “What will happen when he meets with the Ganges and goes toward Kolkata?”

“Oh, that’s not where he’s going,” Rucksack replied. “He’ll take the course o’ the real Agamuskara River. That flows north into the Himalayas. Jay gave his life so all life may live. In honor o’ that sacrifice, Jay will be laid to rest in the Heart o’ the World. It’s a long journey, but that boat will get him there just fine.”

They fell silent. All watched the boat grow smaller and smaller on the massive river. When at last they could see the boat no more, people said a final thanks, a final farewell, and began to wander away. The mountain faded and was gone.

“It’s time for me to go with them,” Ammar said, nodding toward the people. “We have much to do, and I owe a man a boat.”

“Do you fear them?” Jade asked. “Or how they will react to you?”

“Jigme would have feared them. He had much bitterness growing in his heart,” Ammar said. “That bitterness and fear died with Jigme. I do not fear. It is said that even the Lord Brahma, god of all creation, has red skin. I am not Brahma, but I am here to create, to build, to help. I will live through my works and my love. That will see us through.”

Ammar left them and walked toward his people.

Jade and Rucksack stood by the river and stared at each other.

“I’ll stay a while longer,” Rucksack said. “Show Ammar the ropes. Besides, I don’t have anywhere else to be.”

Jade shook her head. “I don’t think so,” she replied. “You’ve done what you needed to do in Agamuskara. I’d say you’re wanted elsewhere. A second chance is a new start, after all.”

“Second chances,” Rucksack said, a trace of sadness, almost bitterness, in his voice.

“Yes.” Jade grinned as she stared at a spot just above Rucksack’s head.

“What are you looking at?” he asked.

“You mean you don’t know?”

“Enlighten me, goddess, if you don’t mind.”

“Second chances,” Jade said. “For me, for Ammar… and for you too.”

She stared at the spot again. It was still short and thin, but there was no doubt: a silvery, intertwined tendril of decision and destiny flowed out of Rucksack like a creek that could become a river.

“You said that helping Jay could restore you to the path of your destiny,” Jade said. “It did, Rucksack. You’re connected to the world again. You are on your path once more.”

A shock came over the anywhere face. “Guess I’ll always owe him a pint,” Rucksack finally said. “I’d hoped… I’ve tried for so long…”

“He believed in you,” Jade said. “And so do I. Whatever you’re here to do, Faddah Rucksack, it’s going to be magnificent. I know it will be. Because like me, you’ll always carry him in your heart. Some part of everything you do will be to remember him, to keep him alive in some small way.”

Rucksack smiled but had no words to reply. They stood there for a while, watching the river, thinking of the little boat and of the peaceful smile on Jay’s face.

Then, without a word, Jade and Rucksack walked away from each other, heading in opposite directions.

There were still roads to travel. There were still journeys to begin. There would always be another journey on the road—the endless, boundless road.

You could never see all of it or know where you were going, but you could always choose your way.

The road forever, Jade saw, wandering forward and never looking back.

Forever the road.

IV

B
EHIND THE BAR
, the comment book lay open to a blank page, reminding Jade of the guestbook she had kept in the pub at the Everest Base Camp. It wasn’t the same, though. The Rum Doodle in Kathmandu, Nepal, had no hostel. It was just a bar and restaurant—though a damn good one, if the way they pulled a pint of Galway Pradesh Stout was any indication.

That old guestbook stuck in Jade’s mind. She remembered watching Jay scrawl his name in it the day they first met.

Such distinct handwriting,
she thought.
I’d still know it anywhere.

After a year of wandering according to destiny and decision throughout India and Southeast Asia, she had followed the silver-and-gold tendrils to Nepal this time, the closest she had ever been to the Himalayas.

A year to the day,
she thought.
A year since I became a goddess.

A year since Jay died saving the world from the Smiling Fire.

Jade pulled herself out of memory and back to the present.
Why am I here tonight?
she thought, but the tendrils gave her no answer yet.
Maybe I should have gone to Agamuskara instead of Kathmandu. Word is a man named Ammar is doing amazing work cleaning and rebuilding the city, and there’s a new pub and hostel that’s the talk of India and the globetrotter’s grapevine…

The traveler came back from the toilet, sat next to Jade at the bar, and took a long draw from his own fresh pint of GPS.

Someone’s life is going to change tonight,
Jade thought.
But I don’t think it’s his. His path seems certain already.

So, why am I talking with him?

Not that the traveler wasn’t fun conversation. They swapped stories of the road, the world, of Jay. No matter where she’d gone, travelers and soon-to-be-travelers always loved hearing about Jay, the world’s greatest globetrotter. She didn’t have the heart to tell any of them that Jay was dead. His exploits, his adventures—
though,
Jade thought,
perhaps I’m adding some Rucksack-worthy embellishments nowadays
—inspired all the more whenever the listener left believing Jay was out there somewhere, living the world, blazing a trail of myth and legend wherever he roamed.