Threader origins, p.17
Threader Origins, page 17
Leaving the window behind, he grabbed the damp sheet from the bed and wrapped it around himself before heading for the doorway. His clothes had to be somewhere around here. He pushed aside the curtain and stood in the entry, listening for sounds from the quiet house before moving into the next room. A couch and chair lined one wall, facing a small fireplace painted white. To his left was a dining room, though it was difficult to see in the dim, filtered light. The windows here had thicker curtains, and the moonlight barely pushed through the material. A single shaft of light cut across the floor, created where the curtains failed to meet.
He turned and shuffled back to bed, suddenly exhausted from his foray into the house. He barely had the strength to make it back, never mind getting dressed and walking through the night. He still had no clue where he was, but the people who lived here had taken the time to nurse him back to health. He didn’t think they would do that if they had any plans to hurt him, or if they thought he’d bring the Qabal down on them. He lay down and was asleep almost before his head touched the pillow.
No dreams interrupted his sleep.
* * *
• • •
Darwin woke to sunlight streaming in through the window, the curtains pushed back. All he could see out of it was a patch of pale blue. Beside the filled water jug on the side table, a pile of clothes lay neatly folded. He could see they weren’t his, but it was obvious they were meant for him.
Closing his eyes, he let the Threads come into view, mentally kicking himself for not trying to use them last night. The only excuse he had was he must have been more tired than he had thought. It took him a moment to realize he could use them again. Apparently the Skend’s touch was only temporary.
Threads drifted through the room, soft and white. He had Seen Threads like this before but couldn’t remember where. They moved through the wall and doorway into the living room he had seen yesterday, and he followed them with his Sight.
As the Threads moved through the living room, the muted sounds of whispering voices stopped. Darwin pulled back and pushed himself to a sitting position in bed, waiting for his visitor.
A gentle knock came from the doorway, and she walked in. This was the angel from his nightmares last night. She couldn’t have been much older than he was, and as in his dreams, her long dark hair hung freely, framing her face in a halo of backlight from the window. As she walked closer, he could see her eyes were a deep brown, almost black, and filled with understanding and compassion and strength. He suddenly felt naked and exposed, and he pulled the bed sheet higher up his chest.
“You are looking better this afternoon,” she said.
Afternoon? Darwin glanced out the window again. The sunlight was bright and harsh.
“You have been asleep for quite some time.”
“How long?” Darwin’s voice came out hoarse and scratchy. He cleared his throat and tried again. “How long?”
“Just over three days. If we had found you a couple of hours later than we did, I think it would have been too late. Walking around during the day with no water isn’t a very wise thing to do, even at this time of the year. Throw in this weird heat wave we’re getting, and it’s a recipe for disaster.”
Darwin noted her voice, though still soft, held a bit of an edge to it as she chided him. “I hadn’t planned to be walking around,” he said.
“I could see that.” The edge had left her voice and a hint of laughter could be heard in it. “There is fresh water in the pitcher. Drink as much of it as you can, then get dressed and meet me in the living room. You are a bit late for lunch, but I think I can warm up some leftovers and get some food into you.”
The thought of food made his stomach rumble, and he realized that he was starving. His angel laughed at the sound, a gentle laugh that lit up her whole face, and turned to leave.
“By the sounds of it, I’d better hurry with the lunch,” she said.
By the time he had finished a few glasses of water and gotten dressed, he could smell the food coming from behind the curtained doorway. The clothes didn’t fit too badly. The jeans, though the same size as his old ones, felt loose and baggy. The shirt, black with a faded and pixelated image of the Enterprise from the old Star Trek TV show on it, fit perfectly. When he stepped into the living room, he saw the table had been set with a single place setting, just a plate and a spoon, tortillas, a bowl of steaming beans, and what looked like chicken in another bowl. Beside it was a large pitcher filled with water. His angel—he’d have to find out her name—sat across from the food. He fell into the chair, and the smell of the beans made his stomach rumble again. He reached for a tortilla and a soft touch on his arm stopped him.
“More to drink first, then a little bit of food. Your body is still feeling the effects of severe dehydration and will for a couple more days. Put on some extra salt as well, you need it. After that,” she tilted her head toward the bedroom door, “back to bed.”
Darwin dutifully poured a glass of water and took two gulps before reaching for the food again. He wrapped the soft tortilla around the chicken and beans and took a giant bite, grabbing for his water before he had a chance to swallow. The cracks in his lips were on fire, and his tongue felt like he’d laid it on a red-hot stove. The water did little to hold the fire at bay.
“Jesus, that’s hot,” he gasped.
His statement was met with another gentle laugh. “I didn’t think you were from around here,” she said. “It is the beans. That’s as mild as we make it, unless you want baby mash.” She pushed the pitcher closer to him. “I suggest you just suck it up and drink more water.”
Darwin unrolled his tortilla and scraped most of the beans onto the plate, replacing them with another chunk of chicken. Either the second bite was better, or he had burnt away so many of his taste buds it just didn’t matter anymore. He made his second tortilla with just the chicken. The gnawing hunger subsided halfway through to a dull pang, and he started asking questions.
“Where am I?”
“San Diego, near the old Chollas Reservoir.”
She tilted her head, focusing her beautiful eyes on him. It felt as though she was looking into his soul, if he believed in stuff like that.
“Where did you come from?” she asked.
“New Jersey.”
“That’s quite a walk. Did you do the whole thing without food or water?”
“No, I . . .” He stopped, realizing she was joking with him again. “No. It’s a long story.”
“I’m sure it is. I may even know some of it. You had a burn on your arm, in the shape of fingers. There aren’t too many things in this world that can do that kind of damage.”
Darwin’s hand went automatically to his arm where the Skend had touched him.
“There’s only one place I know of where Skends have been recently. My mom and brother are there now, helping the survivors. If one got close enough to you to do that, you’re one lucky guy.” She paused. “A lot of people left SafeHaven that day.”
The image of the eyeless and mouthless face rose unbidden into his mind, and he shuddered, putting the rest of the tortilla on the plate. Suddenly, he was more tired than hungry.
She placed her hand on his arm, the warmth of her fingers spreading through him. “We can talk again later. Why don’t you get back to bed and get some more rest?” Her fingers slipped from his arm and he immediately missed her touch.
He stood without answering, picking up his plate to bring to the kitchen.
“Just leave it, I’ll take care of it.”
He put the plate down and stumbled back to his room, stopping as he reached the curtained doorway. He turned back and leaned against the doorframe.
“I didn’t get your name.”
“Teresa,” she said, without looking up from the table. She said her name with a slight rolling of the “r” and as if it had an “a” after it instead of an “e.”
“Thank you, Teresa.”
“Go to bed, rest.” The corners of her mouth rose in a slight smile.
He turned to walk into his room before changing his mind. All of the water he’d drunk had brought on another need. “Is there a bathroom I could use first?”
10
THE WORLD IS A MUCH SMALLER PLACE
DARWIN SLEPT THROUGH the rest of the afternoon and night, waking the next morning to the sounds of pots banging in the kitchen and the smell of coffee. God, it felt like forever since he’d had a good cup of coffee. Chances were this was just more of the roasted barley fake stuff the Qabal had served.
Sometime in the night someone had thrown a thin blanket over him; he still lay on top of the ones he’d fallen asleep on. He tossed the blanket off and walked into the living room. There was no one there. He thought of following the noises into the kitchen, but the sight of the open doorway leading outside made him change his mind.
He stepped out onto a covered porch. Green paint peeled from the railings and the beige exterior walls looked worn and tired. The porch itself was small, with barely enough room for a single chair, and raised off the ground by a handful of steps. Across the road was a similar building at ground level, its red clay roof tiles missing in spots. Over the closed double doors Darwin could see faded print: District Office, and a sign on the small dead lawn read Lincoln Military Housing.
The doors opened and Teresa walked out, holding a clipboard and pen in her hand. She wore a summer dress, plain white with two straps over her shoulders. Darwin stared, mesmerized by the gentle curve of her collarbone in the sunlight. His angel was beautiful. When she looked up and saw him, she smiled and walked over.
Her smile lit up the world for him. He felt his face stretch into a wide grin, threatening to pull apart the freshly healed cracks in his lips, and struggled to regain some composure.
“You look better than yesterday,” Teresa said as she walked up the stairs.
He grinned again as he followed her back into the house. “Thanks. I had help. Someone took excellent care of me.”
“You’ll still have to take it easy today. Lots of rest and water.”
The aroma of coffee hit him again and he started toward the kitchen. “Is that real coffee? It smells great.”
“We haven’t seen coffee in years. This is acorn coffee. It’s not bad, but nowhere near the real stuff. You can get me one while you’re in there.”
Darwin walked back into the living room carrying two steaming mugs. Teresa put her clipboard down and reached for one.
“You were pretty close to gone when we found you. Another couple of hours and it might have all been over,” she said.
“Yeah.” Darwin sat and leaned back in his chair. He looked into his cup, watching the steam swirl off the hot liquid. It reminded him of the white Threads his angel had used in his nightmare. “I couldn’t stay there. I . . . I can’t stay here either.”
He took a sip of his coffee and grimaced, putting the cup down. “I should really leave right now. I guess I’ll need some water to take with me.”
“And where would you go, boy from New Jersey?” She said it with no malice in her voice.
“Darwin. Darwin Lloyd.”
Teresa’s voice softened. “So where would you go, Darwin? We are already into December. The days are pretty warm, but the nights can get awful cold. Besides, you wouldn’t be able to make it very far with the water you could carry, and some of the communities out there aren’t as nice as we are.”
“I don’t know.” His voice was a whisper.
“No, you don’t, do you? Well, while the rest of my family are in SafeHaven helping with the wounded, I am the healer here, and I don’t think you’re ready to go anywhere yet. You will have a room here for the next few days at least. After that, you will have to talk to one of the elders.”
“You don’t understand—”
“I do,” Teresa interrupted. “SafeHaven isn’t that far from here, really. Especially if you can hole from one place to the other. Enton has already been here to check on you and left behind a couple of teams of Watchers. He doesn’t usually make the same mistake twice. Skends won’t make it anywhere near here without us knowing about it.”
At the mention of SafeHaven and Enton, Darwin felt an unexpected wave of relief. At least the entire town hadn’t been destroyed by the monsters. He didn’t think he would have been able to live with that.
“I told Enton you needed a few more days before I could let you go. He will wait. No one bothers my patients until I say they’re ready.”
Darwin’s insides tightened, feeling like he’d been dealt a blow to the gut. A patient. Of course, that’s what he was after all, just a patient to Teresa, nothing more. He couldn’t help but let a little bite come into his voice.
“So you made me healthy so Enton could take me back?”
“Of course not.” She placed her empty cup on the table and rose. “You needed help. I, and the people of my community, gave you that help. If you want to leave before Enton comes back, you’re free to do so.” Darwin watched as she walked to the open doorway and stepped outside, her silhouette outlined by the bright sun before she walked down the stairs.
He sat in silence, finishing the concoction they called coffee. It wasn’t bad if you didn’t think about it too much. No matter how life changes, parts of it always stay the same, he thought. Meet a pretty girl, and if she smiled at him, he was head over heels before he knew it. Stupid.
The hot drink had taken the edge off his hunger, so he stepped back out onto the porch and looked down the street. To the right, he saw a large house painted in the same yellowy beige, but with white trim instead of green. To the left, the street turned into a small cul-de-sac, and he could hear the sounds of children playing. The noise made up his mind for him and he left the porch, turning to follow the cheerful squeals.
The cul-de-sac ended at a small playground, situated just behind a rusted red metal monstrosity. He had no idea what it was meant to be, some sort of art piece was his guess. He stood at the playground’s fence and watched the kids from a distance. They played without a care in the world, laughing, pushing, climbing, grabbing handfuls of the sand beside the play structure and throwing it onto the slide before climbing up and sliding down, pushing most of the sand onto the soft black pads under the play structure. They were innocent, carefree. Just like the kids in SafeHaven killed by the Skends. Was he going to bring the same threat down on them? Could he live with it? Enton wasn’t able to stop the attack before, so what made him think he could do it if it happened again?
He turned and strode back to his room, his mind made up. He’d get what food and water he could carry, if they would let him, and be on his way. He didn’t want, or need, another SafeHaven on his conscience.
* * *
• • •
Darwin stopped short, his hand still holding the curtain to his room open before he moved slowly in. Enton sat on his bed, waiting.
“Hello, Darwin,” he said. “You left before we had a chance to talk.”
“Yeah.”
“Any particular reason? I thought we had almost become friends.”
Darwin shrugged his shoulders, embarrassed by Enton’s words. He wasn’t quite sure why, but the picture of the rocky grave he had Seen in the images in SafeHaven rose to the surface.
“Okay. I’ll get right to the point then. I’d like you to come back.” Enton paused as if waiting for an answer. “I think you could become very good at using the Threads. There’s no better place to learn than SafeHaven.”
“SafeHaven?” asked Darwin. “That’s made up of two words, isn’t it? Safe and Haven? It doesn’t seem to be much of either of those, does it? How many people were killed or hurt by those—those things? How many more will have to die before you decide to just give me over to them, or worse?”
Enton stood and gazed out the window. For a brief moment, he reminded Darwin of Bill.
“We haven’t made a very good impression on you, have we?” Enton sighed. “You are right, though. SafeHaven has never been attacked before. The fact that there were Skends so close to us is . . . disconcerting. We should have Seen them. I think your being there simply changed the timing of their attack, not the fact that they were going to. People would have died with or without you there. In fact, your being there may have saved lives. Because of the attack on you in the mountains, we kept a lot of our scouts back, so we had more people able to protect us.”
Darwin continued to stand, not saying anything.
“What is it you want, Darwin?”
“I want to go home.” The words tumbled out of Darwin’s mouth without volition. He could feel the walls he had put in place, the barriers to his emotions, beginning to break. Tears filled his eyes. He turned his back on Enton and his shoulders sagged. “I just want to go home.”
A hand came down gently on his shoulder. “I know, son.”
Darwin shoved the hand away. “I’m not your son. My dad is . . . my dad is somewhere, and I plan on getting back to him.”
“And how do you plan on doing that? Go back to the Qabal? They’re the ones who sent those things after you. They’re the ones who brainwashed you, trained you just enough so you wouldn’t fight them when they drilled into your head for information.”
“It was Bill who did that.”
Enton paused, as if letting that fact sink in for the first time. “Yes, it was. But he also gave you more than you needed. I heard what you did at your last lesson. An extraordinary feat for someone who hadn’t been shown how to do it. Bill did what he had to do. The Qabal only want more power, and you were the pathway to that end. Now that you are no longer with them, they would rather see you dead than for you to pass your knowledge on to someone else.”
