Aurora Quest

It was Heather.

She’d finally managed to reassure the terrified boy that the world hadn’t ended in the cataclysm of noise and whirling dust and had quickly discovered Jim lying under the threat of the four-by-four. Carrie had also been thrown off the highway, into the same ditch, farther along. She had strained her wrist and was bruised and battered from shoulder to ankle.

It had taken all four of them, working carefully together, to tease the truck back to safety. Heather sat in the driving seat with the engine running, ready to put it into gear as soon as Jim gave her the word. He and Carrie and Sly gathered at the rear end of the four-by-four, heaving and shoving. The boy proved invaluable in the difficult exercise, constantly eager to give of his considerable best, bracing his shoulder against the dusty metal.

Now, like Pilgrim within sight of his fabled destination, they’d fallen short by a handful of miles.

“Think anyone else could be there before us?” asked Carrie as they sat by the now-useless vehicle, sharing a large, dented can of apricots.

Food was also in the shortest supply.

Jim licked his lips, catching the sweet syrup, wondering vaguely whether one of his crowns was working loose. There’d been a couple of ominous stabs of pain in the past couple of days, and he guessed that good dentists were going to be few and far between.

“We don’t know if there is an ‘anyone else’ to get here,” he replied.

“I reckon that Mac’ll pull through,” said Carrie. ‘”Specially with Pete to help him.”

“I think that the old woman’ll turn up to haunt us all,” Heather said, running a finger around the inside of the empty can and licking it.

“Wouldn’t bet against her,” agreed Jim. “Guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”

“What me doing now, Captain Jim?” asked Sly, smiling eagerly, knowing that Jim would come up with a good idea, knowing he always did.

“Walk down toward the sea, Sly.”

“See the sea… Me see the sea and the sea see me.”

Heather laughed. “Hope you’re still in good spirits after a long walk, Sly.”

“Me like walk, kitten.”

Jim waited for his daughter to snap angrily at the lad for using the endearment that she hated so much. But she said nothing to Sly.

Carrie stood up and kicked the can over the edge of the highway, down into a barren field. “Doesn’t seem much point in taking trash home with us these days.”

“Reckon we could come close to Eureka before the day’s done,” said Jim.

“Cold and clammy kind of day.” Carrie shuddered and hugged herself.

“This part of the coast gets a lot of fog and rain.” Jim glanced at his chron. “High noon, people. Packs on backs and guns ready to hand. Let’s move on.”

The weather deteriorated as the afternoon wore on, making it necessary to keep referring to the compass that Jim carried. The land was folded and tilted by the quakes and every now and again it would twitch in the memory of an aftershock. Each time that happened, Sly would sidle in closer to Heather, occasionally and hesitantly taking her hand.

The fog thickened, swirling around them, distorting perspectives and bringing a greater caution, along with the fear of what might be lingering in the farther gray edge of the coils of mist, waiting to snap them up.

The taste of salt was on everybody’s lips.

“Me tired, Captain Jim,” said Sly suddenly. He stopped and sat himself down in the middle of the blacktop.

“Yeah, me too, son. Think you can go a little farther? Get off the highway and find us a good place to camp for the night. Then we can move on fresh into Eureka in the morning. Can’t be more than two miles now.”

“Nearer five, friend.”

“Who the—” Jim swung around at the creaking voice that had seemed to waft from the banks of fog. He drew the Ruger in midmotion, realizing as he did how useless a gesture that was if the speaker already had a weapon trained on him.

“Now, don’t go popping off with that cannon you got there, friend. Might just hurt someone means you no harm.”

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