Aurora Quest

“You look lonely, son.”

He shot around like a startled rabbit, jumping to his feet, holding the gun at the end of his outstretched arm. “Who the… ?” Instantly he felt a little foolish when he saw it was a stooped, elderly woman. The rest of the pier was deserted. “What d’you want?” he asked.

“Little talk, son.”

“Yeah, that’s… I don’t know you, do I?”

“Just passing through Eureka. Why not put that big cannon away, son.”

“No, I’m…”

He never saw her move, but his right wrist felt as if someone had chopped it in half with an ax. His fingers opened, and the Llama dropped to the damp planking, bouncing once before plopping over the side into the fishy water.

“Hey! That hurt, and the gun’s gone and—”

The old woman didn’t seem so stooped and was standing close to him. There was a sudden griping pain in his groin as her fingers clawed shut around his testicles, freezing the breath in his lungs. The pain was blinding, and tears coursed down his cheeks. Slowly he was being drawn up, forced to rise to the tips of his toes to try to avoid being gelded.

“Quietly,” whispered the woman. “No noise, there’s a good boy. I’ll not take a moment.”

“What?” he managed to gasp as she released her hold a little, letting him settle back on his feet.

“Is there a highway open north?”

“Course not. Lotsa quakes, lady. Lake’s a hundred miles across a ways north of town.”

“So, the only way is by boat?”

“Heard you could loop east, but it’d take you fucking days to do that.”

The pain had melted from white agony to a raw, red throbbing. Nathan realized to his shame that he’d wet himself. It must have wet the woman’s hand down there. He thought that maybe he ought to try to apologize to her.

She was nodding, her face close to his. “Good. That’s all the questions I have.”

“Sorry about—” he began.

But he never got to finish the apology.

Nanci used the heel of her left hand in a stabbing, snapping blow upward. It hit Nathan below the nose, driving his head back. He lost consciousness and fell to the ground as the woman let go of his genitals. She stooped at his side and pressed finger and thumb to the slowly throbbing artery beneath the left ear, holding it until all movement had ceased.

Before leaving the jetty, Nanci rolled the corpse into the harbor where it made only a small splash.

On the way out of town she stooped to rinse the urine from her strong, capable fingers.

IN LESS THAN AN HOUR she was back again, leading the six McGills and Jeff. Everyone was carrying blankets and food and water and weapons. Sukie wandered sleepily along, holding the hand of her brother, Paul. The other hand trailed her favorite doll, Mournful Megg.

Nanci hadn’t explained to them what she’d been doing. She simply said that she’d found the roads were washed out to the north and they had to steal a boat.

Nobody asked her what she’d done to find that out.

They found no sentry on the jetty.

“What kind we taking?” whispered Jeff.

“No need to whisper, Jefferson,” replied Nanci. “You heard the noise from their alehouse. They’re having a wake for the dead, making enough din to rouse the dead.”

“But what kind of boat, Nanci?”

“You keep pushing me with your damn fool questions, and you’ll finish up with a Mexican necktie.”

“What’s that?” The question sounded casual, but fright at the sudden anger in the woman’s voice colored his voice.

“Cut open the front of your throat and slice the tendon under your tongue. Pull the tongue down and out the slit in your neck. Understand me, Jefferson.”

“Yeah, Nanci, I understand.”

Mac was standing near the edge of the narrow pier, looking at the boats all around when he spotted the body of a young man, arms spread, floating belly up, white eyed, in among the barnacled timbers. He decided not to mention it to anyone and moved toward the boat Nanci was looking over.

“Seems big,” said Paul McGill.

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