Undone

I purchased a hot dog at the gas station and ate it while standing next to my motorcycle as the tank filled. I drank a large bottled water before pressing on into the gathering darkness. The road continued to climb, heading from desert to lusher regions, thickening with trees. The stars were already bright, even though the sun hadn’t completely slipped behind the branches, and the road was in deep velvet shadows.

At Pagosa Springs, Luis’s voice returned to my ear to say that they were still heading north, following the same route I was traveling. “Don’t gain on us,” he warned. “I don’t want to spook them.”

I ignored that last, and accelerated.

What traffic there had been fell away. It seemed as if I had the road to myself, traveling endlessly through a cradle of dimly seen mountains that rose to brush stars from the sky. I glimpsed animals on the road—deer, fox, an owl swooping into the hot glow of my headlights to pluck a scurrying mouse from the pavement.

It almost seemed peaceful.

There were no towns, and no turns to take, until I neared the intersection of Highway 160. Luis was silent on the subject of a change in direction, so I continued on, following the twists of the road as it switched northwest, then seemed to reverse directions altogether after the town of Creede. After that, it took another sharp turn, back to the north, avoiding the massive upthrust of mountains.

“Cassiel,” Luis whispered, and I involuntarily slowed, surprised again by his sudden appearance inside my skull. “We turned off the main road about five miles before you get to LakeCity. We’re heading west.”

“Are there markers?”

“Look for a leaning dead pine; it’s caught in between two others. The turnoff is about ten feet farther on. It’s on the left.” Luis no longer sounded as casual as he had been, or as confident. “Look, I think—I think they’re screwing with my body chemistry. It’s subtle, but I think they’re making me high, and I can’t control my powers as well as I—”

His voice broke up into an earsplitting shriek of noise. I stopped the motorcycle, clapping my hands to my ears. It didn’t help, of course. The metallic scream went on, drilling into my head. Deafening. It seemed to be increasing in power, and I knew that it was only a matter of seconds before it ruptured the fragile skin of my eardrum.

This, at least, I could prevent. It was a relatively simple matter to dampen the vibrations to a low hum of static. Of course, this meant cutting off Luis, as well. Whether it was his own lack of control, as he’d said, or an attack using him as a medium, I couldn’t afford the risk of staying open to him just now.

They’re making me high, he’d said. I knew, from a small sampling of popular culture and newspapers, that he meant they were giving him drugs—or, more accurately, manufacturing them within his own body. Earth Wardens had trouble healing themselves, even the most powerful of them, and if they were successful in getting past his defenses and poisoning him in that ma

I didn’t dare reach out to him. I needed my concentration all on the road ahead.

He’d given me a small hint, at least, enough to get me on the right trail. I spotted a dead pine matching the description and slowed to a crawl, seeking the trail.

There was none. Not in ten feet, not in twenty. Not at all. I stopped the bike and slowly walked it backward as I studied the rough ground.

They’d erased it. Yes, of course they would. It was something an Earth Warden would find simple, to obscure a trail by growing new plants and moving the earth. Even a Weather Warden could erase all traces using wind and water, but from what I saw before me, I knew an Earth Warden had been behind this obscurement. Some of the saplings seemed green and new, not even weathered by the sun and wind yet. Some of the dirt, though authentically random in its scatter, seemed freshly distributed.

I spotted the outline of a tire track deep in the brush, and forced a way for myself and the Victory through the tangle. It was at least twenty feet deep, long enough to make me wonder if they had closed the entire trail. I pressed on, ducking to avoid the worst of the stiff branches and needlelike leaves.

The growth suddenly ended, and a dirt road carved itself out of the thin and shadowy moonlight. There were tread marks still fresh in the dust.

My enemies knew I was coming. Even if Luis hadn’t warned them, despite his best intentions, they would simply know. I had no doubt of that. I would press on as far as they’d allow before it came to conflict.

It didn’t take long at all.

I accelerated as the road twisted around a darkly shadowed curve, then another, and as I came out on a straighter section, the trail was blocked by a single, small figure—a boy of Isabel’s age, with ragged dark hair and huge eyes. He was wearing a grimy cotton shirt with a garish blue and red design, and small, loose cotton pants. No shoes. His face was smeared with tears, his nose was ru

I stopped in a cloud of dust, staring at him. My first impulse was to leave the bike and go to him, but my Dji

There was no reason for this child to be here, so far from his home, in the middle of the night.

“Is your name C.T.?” I asked. “Calvin Theodore Styles?”

His eyes filled with tears that glittered in my headlight. “Mama?” He sounded lost and very uncertain. He shuffled forward a step. “I want to go home! I want to go home!”

His voice rose to a chilling wail, and this time not even my cautious, cold Dji

I was halfway to him when the next child appeared. And the next. And the next. All moving silently out of the brush.

Ten, at least, all below the age of ten. Most looked thin and ill-kept, their clothing filthy. Some lacked shoes.

All seemed far too feral for comfort, and they were all armed. Knives, for the most part, but a few had clubs. No projectile weapons, for which I was grateful.

I paused, assessing. They were all around me, coming out of the underbrush in soft, stealthy whispers of leaves and twigs.

“I’m here to help you,” I said, in what I hoped was a soothing tone. “Please. My name is Cassiel. Let me help you find your homes.”

None of them made a sound, not even the boy who’d wailed so pitifully. The wind through the trees made a hissing sound as the pine needles rubbed together, and I became aware how vast and empty this area was . . . and how alone I had become.

“I am looking for a girl called Isabel,” I said. She wasn’t here, wasn’t among the feral ones. “Ibby. Do you know her?” I focused on the closest child, a girl with short blond hair. “Do you know Isabel?”

She didn’t answer. None of them moved, and none blinked. It was odd and—even for a Dji

C.T.—if he was C.T.—was no longer weeping, though tears still trailed down his cheeks. He had assumed the same cold, empty aspect as the other children.

I took a step forward toward him, and they all rushed at me in silence. I jumped, grabbing hold of a low-hanging branch, and pulled my legs up as they slashed at me with silver flashes of blades. A few made grunts of effort, jumping to try to reach me, but they didn’t speak, not even to each other.

By some unspoken coordination, two of them bent over to boost up others, who caught hold of lower branches and began to climb toward me. It was a ridiculous situation, hemmed in by infants—and yet there was a certain cold logic to it. I would be hesitant to harm these defenseless children, while the enemy—and I knew it was our enemy—would not hesitate to spend every small life to hurt me.