After the End

Tallie shrugs. “Whatever the case, it looks like you’ve got your work cut out. You have to, one, find the boy; two, convince him to forgive you for drugging him and stealing his car; and three, persuade him not to hand you over to his dad.”

I gape at her. “But without my ability to Read, how in the world am I supposed to find him?”

“Well, that’ll be a good incentive to get your abilities back. If Whit sent that bird to find you, do you think you could send it to find Miles?” she asks.

I nod. “I’ve tried that before, with a much smaller distance, and it worked.”

“Well then, that’s your next step. As soon as you’re ready, you let me know. I can hike over to the general store. Mikey over there’ll let me borrow his pickup truck, and I can get within a half-mile of here if I go back-road. Then I’ll take you to wherever the bird tells you to go. How’s that?”

“I’ll do my best” is all I say. Although the last twenty-four hours with Tallie have raised my spirits, I’m still awash in a sea of doubt. What we talked about this afternoon was like a wake-up call. I know there is some truth in what I’ve been taught. But it’s going to take time to sift through it all and decide what I truly believe. What makes sense. And I don’t have time to spare.

As if reading my mind, Tallie says, “If you’re anything like me, it’s going to take years to sort everything out in your head.” She drapes an arm around my shoulders. “But one thing at a time. Just focus right now on the thing you need. We’ll try to find your Miles tomorrow.”

Tallie gathers up the bones and places them gently back into their pouch. And then, leaving me outside with Poe on his special leash, she goes inside. Through a cabin window, I see her settle into the armchair with a book.

She knows what she believes and has built a life around it. I’m jealous of the simplicity of the path she’s chosen and, for a second, wish I was back in our village in Alaska, where the only goal was survival, and I was sure of what I believed. I almost wouldn’t mind being lied to . . . if I never discovered the lie in the first place. Live oblivious of the deception.

Life is easier in black and white. It’s the ambiguity of a world defined in grays that has stripped me of my confidence and left me powerless.

46

MILES

I SPEND THE REST OF THAT DAY AND ALL THE next wandering around Salt Lake City. Any time I’m not sca

It turns out that her Whittier Graves made headlines in the ’70s. He was part of a group of scientists who were deeply involved in the Gaia Movement. They were all about the protection of the planet: preserving endangered species, curbing climate change, disarming nuclear weapons and the like. Several articles refer to the fact that Whit and some colleagues disappeared during a research trip in South America. And that’s it. After 1984 there is no more mention of him.

I bet he planted the rumor about South America before going to Alaska just to throw everyone off their trail. A bunch of tree-hugging hippies seceding from society doesn’t seem so far out. But the whole WWIII thing sounds more like those cults who move to another country and drink poisoned Kool-Aid. It’s all about mind control. Brainwashing. Juneau’s story is making more and more sense to me.

47

JUNEAU

I SPEND THAT NIGHT RESTING MY ANKLE AND thinking about things. Showing Tallie all the amulets and totems we use for Reading and Conjuring had sparked something in my mind. As had Tallie’s advice to doubt everything and think for myself.

I think that Whit got some things wrong. I don’t need a crutch to Read or Conjure. I don’t need something material to link me with the Yara. I am a living being who is close to the Yara—I should be able to access it directly. Myself. And for once, I take my opal necklace off when I sleep. Okay, it was within reaching distance of me on the floor, but I felt it was a step. I was going to be stronger, and that strength would come from me.

The next morning when I awake, Tallie is gone. Breakfast is laid out on the table, with a note next to it saying, “Off to find wheels.” I eat and dress, then wait outside with Poe until we see a red pickup truck pull up to the clearing at the bottom of the mountain in the distance.

I scramble out the door, and though I’m trying to be careful with my ankle, practically run down the side of the mountain. Tallie meets me halfway. She eyes my sack, which has been packed since the previous night, and then my face, red with exertion and drawn with my impatience to get started.

She plants her fists on her hips. “You sure you don’t want to hang out just a few more days?”

“Um, I, uh . . . ,” I start saying before I realize that she’s making fun of me. “I’m one hundred percent sure, even though you’ve been the best host.”

“Then let’s go,” says Tallie, taking my pack from me and swinging it into the back of the truck. “Let’s get you back on your path.”

48

MILES

THE FIRST NIGHT IT TOOK ME A WHILE TO PITCH the tent. After that effort, along with my exhaustion from walking around all day, I didn’t even mind the hard ground. I was asleep by the time my head hit the pillow.

Tonight, however, I have the tent up nearly as fast as Juneau did. After that resounding success, I decide to push my luck and attempt building a fire for the first time. Not because it’s cold—it’s a bit chilly, but not enough to merit the fire—I just want to see if I can.

To tell the truth, Juneau made me feel inept about all this outdoors stuff. But in L.A. why would I ever need to build a fire? I’m sure there are a million things that I know how to do that she doesn’t. I mean, she’d never driven a car. Before she stole mine, that is. I’ll bet she’s never used a computer. Although something tells me she’d probably pick that up quickly too.

It’s obvious that she’s smart. I wonder how long it will take her to get used to living in the real world. And I wonder just where it is that her dad and clan are. Although the rest of her story has pa

I build a little fort out of twigs and then add some bigger pieces of wood that I’ve gathered, like I saw Juneau do. And I’m about to try to light the pile when I hear a car coming down the dirt road. I freeze. No one’s come anywhere near my campsite, so far as I know, and I’m afraid some park rangers or police are going to arrest me for staying here since it isn’t an official campground. (I had seen signs for some of those, but they all cost money, and I’m seeing how long I can stretch my last five bucks.)

My first reflex is to hide, but if it’s the cops, they’ll just run my license plate and maybe even call my dad, since it’s his name on the registration. Before the vehicle comes into view, a large black shape flies straight at me, and I duck as it glides within inches of my head.

I spin to discover the Bird—okay, Poe—perched with its head tipped to one side like it finds my startled expression hilarious. And then a red pickup truck pulls up to the end of the dirt road next to my car. I can’t tell who’s inside until they turn the headlights off, and then I see Juneau step out of the passenger side and walk slowly toward me. She’s limping slightly, and the serious expression on her face, combined with the fact that the driver isn’t getting out of the truck, tips me off to the fact that she wants to talk with me alone.