He had done so much for her, both in life and in death.
Around the room, her pictures were still tacked to the walls, their bright colors were preserved by the dark; images of birdmen and birdwomen, rainbow warriors and horses with slug legs, monsters and heroes and Alice too, weaving her way amongst them with grace and wit and childlike ease.
A line from Alice came to mind and she spoke it aloud.
"I can't go back to yesterday because I was a different person then."
It was true.
She went to collect the pictures, then thought better of it. They belonged where they were, where they had been for ten years. She stood at the window for a time, looking out, gathering her strength before the final room.
The Hatter was a dark circle on the floor. She ran her fingers through her father's clothes in the cupboard. It was amazing to think he'd walked from here to Mongolia. It made her miss him more, for all the things she would never know. Perhaps he would have met another woman and she might have had a second mother. Perhaps they would have had another child, a little brother or sister for Anna to look after.
She went back down the stairs. From the wall she selected one picture, of her and her father together, just the two of them. Seeing her mother had been nice, but she could remain here in this eternal mausoleum, a past too distant to keep near. She only wanted her father with her for the days and years to come.
The RV was waiting for her outside. Somewhere two thousand miles away, Amo and Cerulean and Ravi and all the others would be waiting too.
She couldn't wait to see them. Others were going to come. In that moment she knew it with certainty. The cairns were out there and the rules had shifted. She'd go join Ravi and they'd have children, and their children would marry children from Russia or China or France, and so on and so on until the world was full again, and all these old grave sites would come back into use as cities and parks and homes for their children to grow up in.
They were going to be all right.
25. CERULEAN
She came upon the Chinese Theater slowly.
Passing through the west had felt like waking from a long dream; four slogging days of endless straight roads stretching across the desert. The figure on the UFO in Las Vegas made her smile. She augmented every cairn to date with fresh SEEDS.
Then she was there, in Los Angeles and rolling down the streets most familiar to her. Before hitting Hollywood Boulevard she stopped off at Venice beach. It was silent and still but for the waves lapping on the shore.
The past was a closed chapter. Looking out over the steady ebb and flow of tides, she could almost imagine each gray-white breaker was a single head bobbing above the surface for a moment only, before sinking below.
People were deep and vast, like the ocean. There were depths she would never know. She'd plumbed a few, but never fallen so deep as people like Julio or the mad woman on her trimaran. She'd never lost all hope like Amo and actually tried to die, though she'd come close.
The RV trundled peaceably down Hollywood Boulevard. The stars on the sidewalk glinted like they'd been polished. This was home. In the courtyard she pulled up to join the motor pool in front of the Chinese Theater.
She cut the RV's engine and looked around. There was no one in sight, probably they were all at work somewhere; Ravi would be helping build up and maintain their housing infrastructure and security, Amo and Lara would be at school in one of the cinema theaters, Jake, Salman and a few others might be up at UCLA working with the ultra-microtome and electron microscope researching further, Masako and a handful in her crew would be out at the Chino Hills State Park farms harvesting potatoes, wheat and corn. Probably Cerulean would be at the satellite phone receiver in the radio room at the Pacific Television Center, working shifts with a few others while they waited for transmissions from her or anyone else around the world to come in.
She climbed out of the RV. The Theater looked the same. A few large pennants still hung from its eaves, boasting about the latest IMAX movies coming out ten years ago. They ought to replace those with a new flag, she wondered, probably something better than her stop sign. Amo could think about that, a really catchy brand. It had to be bigger than single nations, big enough to encompass the world, as the first truly global civilization. Perhaps a circle for the Earth with a sun and moon circling? That might look like a credit card symbol… They could fine-tune the details later.
She wondered if anyone had come in yet from Asia. It was possible, if they'd seen her cairn in Japan.
She started toward the entrance.
"Don't move," a loud voice called out, enhanced by a megaphone. "Raise your hands."
That was new. She did as she was told, studying the Theater's roofline. There'd once been a plan to make it a secure battlement, and yes, there were two turrets up there now, fresh constructions since she'd left. They looked like World War 2 pillboxes, reinforced with sandbags. Were those machine gun barrels sticking out? Something glinted in the one on the left, giving away a pair of binoculars.
She looked around the rest of the open courtyard but nobody was there.
"Step away from the vehicle slowly," the amplified voice called. "Keep your hands up."
She did just that.
"It's me," she shouted up at the glinting turret. "Anna. I'm back."
"Anna?" the voice said, and in that second she recognized it. A door in the side of the turret opened and out popped the lanky, tousle-headed figure of Jake. A loudspeaker hung slack in his hand, so she barely heard his voice as he went on. "You're back! Oh my god! Sorry, come on in!"
She laughed.
"What's with the security?" she shouted up at him, but he didn't hear, he was talking animatedly into a walkie-talkie. He grinned and gestured for her to enter the building.
She walked on, into the dark of the Theater and called out.
"Hello, anybody home?"
There was a rustling sound from a nearby theater, then stamping feet and the door to screen seven thumped open. It was Lara, and she stood there wide-eyed for a second staring at Anna, taking in her sun-dark face and smile.
"Oh my lord, Anna!" she shouted.
She ran over and hugged her. She held her away and looked at her. "I can't believe you're really here!" She ran her hands through Anna's hair wildly then over her cheeks and shoulders as if checking everything was in the right place. "We've been so worried, and after Mongolia, but you're all right? You look amazing."
Anna laughed and tried to talk but her voice came out choked. "I'm fine, Lara. Really."
She hadn't expect to feel this. She'd always fought Lara but now she was so happy just to see her. She wanted to wrap her up and hold her tight.
"Gods we have to tell the others," Lara hooted. She pulled out her walkie-talkie and buzzed it. "All stations, this is Lara, I have amazing news; Anna's home! We're in the theater, everyone get over here now!"
A stream of kids came trundling out of the theater, trailing after Lara. First came Talia, Amo and Lara's daughter, and when she saw Anna her face lit up in the dark of the lobby.
"Auntie Anna," she cried. "Ravi says you're going to teach me how to yacht!" She ran over and hugged her. "But you got so fat."
Anna laughed. Lara stroked Talia's soft brown hair. "We've got so much to talk about! You and Ravi? I never thought you saw anything in him."
Anna turned red. She looked down at little Talia, that being an easier conversation to handle. "I got so fat because I ate up a whole candy factory! Can you imagine that?"
Talia jumped up and down. "How did it taste?"
"Amazing. I can still taste it now. You should try it sometime."
"Mommy I want to eat a candy factory too!" Talia demanded, and Lara gave Anna the old frown, then the others kids were hustling around them as well; Jenna and Max and Grace and Hartford, all of them different ages but taking their classes together.
Last of all came Amo. He stood in the dark hall grinning and watching the hallway revelry.
"Get over here," Lara called.
"I'm just admiring this scene," he said. He looked fit to burst with pride, and his voice was tight. "I'm so glad you're back safe, Anna."
"Get in this hug!" Lara ordered.
He came over and duly joined in the hugging. Moments later the walkie-talkie at Lara's waist fuzzed to life. "She's here? Anna's back?"
It was Ravi's voice. Lara held the receiver out to Anna.
"I'm here, Ravi. I'm back."
On the other end Ravi whooped. "I'm coming," he shouted.
"Drive safe, OK," Anna said. "No sense you getting hurt coming over here."
"You've been round the world," he shouted. "I'll drive home how I damn well please!"
They laughed. They talked. Fresh tea was produced, and snacks, and throughout there was only one thing missing while Ravi came in and held to her arm and wouldn't stop crying and laughing, while Jake and Salman came in and told her about the great strides they'd made in understanding the T4, especially with her guidance from Mongolia and her thoughts from the Atlantic crossing.
"This thing was made," Jake said. "We're spotting signature loops in the DNA, breaking them down as best we can and mapping them to known splices. We may even be able to isolate who did it, and where, and what for. You sure you haven't got a sample of the big red one?"
She laughed and told them no. She patted Ravi's arm and tolerated him gazing at her, and the kids dancing round her feet, because this was what she'd come back for anyway. This was why she was here.
At last though she couldn't wait any longer.
"Where's Cerulean" she asked Amo.
His face fell at once. The hubbub died down and the mood shifted.
Amo put his hand on her shoulder. "Something happened while you were away, Anna."
She blinked. "What?"
He looked into her eyes. "Cerulean's gone."
Involuntarily she shook her head. This was too sudden a change. The image of Cerulean buried in the dirt with only his wheelchair as a grave marker flashed through her mind. "What do you mean, gone? Gone where? Did he follow after me?"
"No," Amo said. "He would have told me. And the answer is, we don't know where. We don't know what's happened to him. A month back he just disappeared and we haven't seen him since."
It felt like the bottom falling out of her world.
It had been wonderful to find her father and her home. It was wonderful to circle the world and decide what kind of person she wanted to be, but to do all of those things and not have Cerulean to tell about it? It all began to seem empty. She hadn't realized it but now she did; Cerulean was the firm ground her new life was based on. He'd been like a father to her, but no that wasn't quite right. He'd been her father.
"I don't understand. Where would he go? Why?"
Amo took a long moment. He looked at Lara and at the others gathered around, then he spoke in a heavy, final tone.
"I'm sorry, Anna. I don't know why or where. We think he was taken."
Thank you for reading The Lost!
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Thank you again for reading The Lost, and look out for Book 3 in the series, coming soon!
Michael John Grist.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
A dedicated team of advance readers helped me no end in editing, proofing, and improving this book, and to them I am immensely grateful. Rob Nugen offered his customary line by line edit, complete with in-jokes and gentle reminders of grammar points I really should know better about.
Mark Stone picked out a host of essential typos and logical errors that I'd somehow missed, as did Katy Page- thank you both. Ray Ferguson kept me on point with Britishisms, helping the text read smoothly to American eyes. Without his help you'd have been reading about 'trolleys' and 'car parks' rather than 'carts' and 'parking lots'.
Also thanks to my Dad, Tony Grist, who pointed out how close to a simple travelogue the latter half of the book was getting, encouraging me to go back to the original drawing board and incorporate the mad woman in the trimaran. Also thanks to Matt Finn, whose thoughts on plot really helped bring about the same conclusion.
Thanks to all.
In addition, I welcome any feedback you the reader may have. If you'd like to get in touch, please feel free to email me at [email protected]. I absolutely do not bite, being neither a zombie nor a dog.
- Michael
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Michael John Grist
is a British writer and ruins photographer who lived in Tokyo, Japan for 11 years, and now lives in London, England.
He writes dark surreal science fiction and fantasy, and used to explore and photographs abandoned places around the world, such as ruined theme parks, military bases, underground bunkers, and ghost towns. These explores have drawn millions of visitors to his website
michaeljohngrist.com
, and often provide inspiration for his fiction.
OTHER WORKS