After the End

She turns her head to me, and with a quirky smile says, “Best refrigerator a girl could ask for.”

My mouth drops open. “That is ingenious!” I say.

“Why, thank you very much,” she says, flipping her hair back over her shoulder as she leans in to pick some things out of the cage. “You’re not vegan, are you? Vegetarian?” she calls.

“No,” I yell back. Vegetarian? I think, smiling to myself. If only she could see me ski

After a few minutes Tallie returns with a tray. “How about a couple of cheeses, some homemade bread, and cured ham?” she asks.

My mouth is watering, but I just stare at it and search her face once more.

She puts the tray down with an amused expression and pops a piece of cheese in her mouth. “See? Not poisoned. Not even spoiled.”

I relax. “Sorry. I’m not in the most trusting mood lately. Honestly, this looks like the best meal in the world.” I spread some butter on the bread, lay a piece of ham on it, and raise it to my mouth, but then freeze at the sound of a knock on the front window. “Oh no!” I whisper, dropping my food in panic. But Tallie is up in a second and walking toward the sound.

“Don’t worry, Juneau. It’s just a raven. It’s probably hungry.”

“Don’t let him in!” I yell, and rise to my feet before crumpling back down to the couch, gasping with pain and holding my ankle. But it’s too late. She opens the window to place a piece of bread on the sill, and he squeezes past her and into the house.

“Well, aren’t you cheeky?” she says, putting her hands on her hips.

“Tallie, you have to get him out of here,” I urge. “He has some kind of location device hooked to his leg.”

“What in the world are you talking about?” she says, and putting both hands out, traps Poe on the ground and rolls him over. “There’s nothing on his legs.”

The flashing red light is gone. I breathe a sigh of relief, but my stomach still churns with anxiety. “Come here, Poe,” I say. Tallie releases him, and he hops over to me.

“So you know this bird, like, personally?” she asks, one eyebrow raised.

I pick Poe up and comb through his feathers, but there is nothing attached to him: no note, no tiny machine. Someone must have removed the bracelet. But why?

“He’s going to have to stay in here. We can’t let him go now that he’s seen where we are,” I say, pulling him onto my stomach. I pet him like a cat, and he nestles his head against my arm.

Tallie stares at me with knitted brow, finger posed pensively on her lips. “People often call me strange. But your bird paranoia problem”—she gestures with her chin toward Poe—“takes the cake.”

“It’s not—” I begin.

“Shh,” she urges, shaking her head. She closes the window, flicks the lock closed, and lowers the wicks of the oil lamps, dimming the room’s light to a warm flickering glow that reminds me of nighttime in my yurt. “You eat. As for me, I’m usually in bed by now, but I’ll wait until you’re done.” She walks over to the bedroom corner and pulls some clothes out of a dresser drawer. “I never have guests, so I have no use for walls. Which means if you’re overly modest, you might want to turn around, ’cause I’m about to get naked.”

I focus on eating, giving her privacy, and in a few minutes she walks back wearing fla

I swallow my bread and nod toward a rifle resting in a rack over the door. “Is that for hunting?”

She shakes her head. “I’m too squeamish to kill anything unless it’s about to kill me. It’s more for protection.”

“From what?” I ask.

“Oh you know. The usual,” she grins. “As you noticed, I’m living a bit off the grid,” she explains. “No one knows I’m here.”

“Why?” I ask. “Are you ru

She shakes her head. “You’re the guest, so I get to grill you first. But I’m not even going to do that until tomorrow morning. You done with the food tray?”

“Yes. Thanks,” I say as she clears it away. She pulls the throw blanket off the back of the couch and drapes it over me.

“You sleep now. The door and windows are locked, although I have a feeling that if the people after you were headed this way, we would have already heard from them. But, as to not take any chances, I’ll take this to bed with me.” She grabs the rifle from off the wall and lays it on the ground next to her.

I pull my crossbow over from where it’s propped on my bag and place it next to the couch. It’s cold comfort, and less powerful than Tallie’s shotgun, but I feel safer knowing it’s by my side.

42

MILES

IT TAKES A LITTLE TALKING TO CONVINCE THE state police to let me take my “stolen” car without pressing charges or filing a missing persons report. Portman, who happens to be in the same war veterans’ association as one of the patrolmen, finally persuades them that it was all just a teenage love spat, during which my girlfriend drove off with my car and then was picked up by friends. The gas station cashier claims she had her headphones on and didn’t notice a thing.

“You better get home to your father now,” Redding tells me as they pull away. He looks resigned, as if he knows I’m not going to obey him. And he’s right. Getting home to Dad is the last thing on my to-do list, unless I do it with Juneau in tow.

I turn the keys in the ignition and notice the gas dial swing up to full. So Juneau must have filled the tank before she ran off. I walk up to the station and knock on the bulletproof glass. The girl behind the window ignores me, so I knock again. She looks up. I flash her my most charming smile. She slips her headphones off and pops her gum at me.

“Sorry about that,” she says. “I thought you were those cops again.”

“Yeah, that car’s actually mine. My girlfriend drove off with it while we were having an argument.” I decide to stick with Portman’s story. It worked on the cops. “I know you told the police you didn’t see anything, but is there anything at all that you remember that could help me out? It’s late, and I’m worried about her.”

The girl smiles widely and says, “I actually just said that because I didn’t want to have to make an official statement.” She goes on to tell me that she saw everything, including two guys returning a half hour later without the girl and yelling at each other for a while before driving away.

“What direction did they go?” I ask.

“South toward Salt Lake City,” she responds.

“Thank you so much,” I say. She shrugs and slides her headphones back on.

So it happened as I had hoped. Whit’s guys didn’t succeed in finding Juneau, yet she hasn’t come back for my car. That means she’s still out there somewhere. I step over a knee-high concrete wall into the pasture and look around. Trees in the distance, with mountains even farther past them. She could be anywhere. And the point has already been established that my wilderness survival skills are laughably lame next to hers.

Unless she wants me to find her, like she did in Seattle, I have no hope. And after she overheard my phone conversation with Dad, that’s just not going to happen. I rub my face sleepily with the palm of my hand. I know she’s heading for Salt Lake City, but unless she hitchhikes, there’s no way she’ll make it there tonight. I’ll just have to hope she’s too scared to hitch a ride with strangers, I think, and then realize the irony of that thought.

I climb in my car and start driving southward, ready to stop at the first hotel I see.

43

JUNEAU

I AWAKE TO THE SMELL OF BACON AND THE SOUND of eggs popping and spitting on the stovetop. And even though I am completely disoriented, I can’t stop a smile from blooming on my lips. I sit up and am staring Poe straight in the beak. He squawks and flaps his wings.