“A good, good afternoon to you, young fellow. And the thanks of an old lady for your wonderful Christian charity in stopping. What a good Good Samaritan you are.”
Her voice was light and trilling. Jim nodded. “Don’t see many people trying to hitch a lift these days, ma’am.”
“I found myself a little lost. Stupid when you realize that I’ve lived in these parts for fifty years.” She sighed. “Fifty years and the world spinning around. Then the last year of red-scented damnation for us all.”
“We can give you a ride.”
“Bless you, my dear.” Her silver hair was pulled back under the bonnet into a tight roll. Heavy amber earrings swung from side to side as she talked. “I believe that this is the highway north and south, is it not?”
Jim nodded. “Yeah. Which way do you want to go? Only we’re getting kind of low on gas and it…”
“It isn’t easy to get nowadays, is it. But I’ll tell you what, Mr….?”
“Hilton, ma’am. Captain James Hilton.”
“My name is Mercy Oliphaunt, Captain. I have plenty of gasoline in my garage back home. And you would be welcome to help yourself to all of it. Must be fifty gallons or more. I confess that I have always been something of a hoarder, but my little Metro was stolen in the first days after Earthblood so I have no use for it. A small reward for your kindness.” She twinkled merrily at him. “And I have the makings for a lamb casserole in my larder. And an apple cobbler. I once won prizes at the county fair for my apple cobbler, Captain Hilton.”
“You convinced me, Miss Oliphaunt.”
She laid a gloved hand on his arm, as though she were a Southern belle being led into a summer ball, allowing him to escort her to the waiting truck. She happily squeezed in beside Heather Hilton.
“You must be the captain’s pretty little daughter,” she said brightly. “Remember, my dear child, that beliefs can be altered but the truth is inflexible and much, much more dangerous.” She turned to Jim as he put the vehicle into gear again. “I was the teacher of our small community, Captain. I cannot resist trying to educate the young whenever I see them.”
“Which way, ma’am?”
“North. Then hang a right up a dirt road with a burned-out school bus just across the highway from it. Then it becomes a little more complex, and I will navigate for you. But we should be there in less than a half hour and eating before—” she rolled up the cuff of her dress to consult a tiny gold watch. “—before five of the evening star.”
Heather Hilton caught a glimpse of a heavy scar around the wrist of the elderly woman, like a bracelet of wealed flesh. But it was gone so quickly that she couldn’t really be sure she’d even seen it.
JIM STOOD BY THE VAN, listening to the ticking of the cooling engine. Dusk was creeping slowly toward them, bringing a light mist up from the direction of the sea. A westerly carried the scent of the ocean to him, though he was no longer sure quite how far away it was. Two or three times during the convoluted journey he’d begun to wonder if the delicate old lady weren’t playing some kind of a trick on them as they wound up and down and left and right, along a trail that was often so narrow that the dead bushes scraped at both windows at once.
After they got to the spruce little cabin, Jim introduced Carrie, Kyle and Sly Romero to the old lady.
Carrie looked uncomfortable when Miss Oliphaunt looked her up and down.
Kyle shook the old lady’s hand, which she extended as though she were bestowing some great favor on him.
Then Jim watched Miss Oliphaunt’s face as she took a good look at Sly for the first time. She half turned toward him. “Oh, the poor child. Isn’t he a…?”
“An orphan, ma’am,” Jim completed swiftly. “Yeah, he is. Father got translated up into the realms eternal only a few days ago.”
“Ah, yes,” she said doubtfully. “He’ll be all right inside the house, will he, Captain?”