Out of Exodia (11 page)

Raul waved his arm noncommittally
toward the woods. “He’d made an altar.” He shielded his eyes with
his forearm as he looked up at his oldest daughter. “It’s a pretty
amazing coincidence. His destiny …”

Kassandra put her hands on her hips. “I
don’t have a part in it anymore.” She tightened her
lips.

“
You could, though. There
was something else in the sky last night. I’m not sure,
but-”

“
No. Don’t even get me
started. As much as I wanted off that ranch three years ago, today
all I want is to get back home.”

Her father crinkled his brow. He looked
beyond Kassandra to watch Katie give Lydia a hug. He wished he
could understand his girls. Before everyone in his town had been
captured and marched to Exodia, Katie had a young man who wanted to
marry her. Somehow he’d escaped the march. When he and Katie,
Kassandra, and Gresham returned to the ranch they found him there,
caring for the sheep. He’d been a hard-working ranch hand ever
since, but his affections were split between both girls. There was
nothing in the stars to help with that.

* * *

Gresham stirs at the sounds of animated
talking among the women, then he settles into a steady breathing
rhythm to match his brother’s. My own breaths are shallow, catching
like thorns against my heart.

Thorns against my
heart
. I squeeze my eyes shut against the
words that begin to form from the phrase:
oath, hymn, shattering, straighten,
restart
. I’m afraid of the message held
beneath the surface of my thoughts.

I’m not ready for such crushing pain; I
could never be ready. There’s nothing I can do but let it rip me
open.

I shake my head and force myself to
rise and sneak out of the make-shift nursery. The women hush when
they see my face. Tears refuse to stop filling my eyes. I motion
them to move a dozen paces away, over toward Raul and
Kassandra.

The majority of the Reds are
congregating in small groups along the sides of buildings, leaning,
talking, waiting. Children play and chase each other. I blink and
clear my throat, force myself to make my hands into fists, clamp my
teeth, and search the grounds for men I can trust. I spot Harmon,
Josh, and Blake. They’ll be the first I’ll name to serve as judges.
Korzon, Teague, and Hamlin will be naturals to heal the rifts that
grow between the Exodian Reds and the Reds that were marched in
from captured cities. Barrett’s father, and Herb, and Branson can
head the less aggressive families. There’s quite a large group
around Eugene; he’d expect a leadership position. I’ll appoint him
and two others from among those who have griped the loudest. I’ll
divide the Mourners into different groups.

Kassandra joins the women, but Raul
pulls the cart closer to me.

“
It’s hard to say this.” I
drop my head, lift my eyes, and hope my former father-in-law can
read the miserable heartache that clings to the few words I must
say. “I need to send you all back to the ranch. Today.”

His eyes narrow. He’s
shocked that I would tell them to leave now. I’m sure he’d never
choose duty over his precious daughters. My sons should mean at
least that much to me. But I made a promise, an oath that no one
else knows. I was the subject of a hymn for too many years and my
path is laid out before me. Straight it is, though following it may
shatter me.
Thorns against my
heart
. A heart that’s ripping
open.

* * *

Lydia stopped talking when Kassandra
stepped nearer. Having Bram’s former wife here was much too hard.
Obviously Bram would want his sons to stay. And of course then
Kassandra would stay. Lydia watched the young mother plant her
hands on her hips, her long fingers splaying across her still plump
middle. The competition would be unbearable. If only she had her
good friend Barrett to see her through another broken
heart.

She tipped impatiently from
one foot to the other as she
studied
Kassandra. Her face, when she turned a glaring eye her way, sent
spears of pain to her heart. Lydia’s stomach twisted with nausea.
She pretended to cough, choked out an excuse to leave and hurried
to the hangar where her things were stashed.

Jenny
Sroka noticed her daughter’s hesitation, the stubborn tilt to
her head, and the palpable discomfiture. But she had no idea what
Lydia was determined to do.

* * *

I owe Raul a further explanation. “I
need Lydia to make this journey with me.” I glance her way and see
her turn to go to the hangar.

“
Will you marry her?”
Raul’s face contorts into an unreadable expression.

I open my mouth but Raul
puts a hand out to stop me before I can speak a whispered
yes
, the very word on my
cautious tongue.

“
It’s all right, Bram. I
knew this from the beginning. You have a mission. I’ll raise your
sons as my own and send them to you when they’re old
enough.”

* * *

Bram gathered the twelve he’d chosen
and led them into a conference room on the first floor of the
control tower. The men pulled a dozen dusty chairs from the top of
a long table, turned them upright, and tested each one for strength
before they settled into the seats. Bram stood.

Eugene kept one fist on the edge of the
table and the other close to a bulging belt sack at his waist. Most
of the men sat still; a couple tried to swivel their chairs. Eugene
caught the eye of Asher and Cleavon who both then balanced a fist
on the table.

Bram stuttered and started again
saying, “I picked you because you’re all capable men from Exodia.
I’m appointing you as leaders of the people.” At that two fists
dropped from the table and several men sat a little straighter.
“You will be officials, some over a hundred or more, some over
fifty. We’ll work that out now.”

Eugene opened his hand, raised it, and
spoke. “Easiest to do it by the old neighborhoods.” He released the
grip on his belt sack and smirked. “I’ll take the B
streets.”

Bram nodded his approval, remembering
the night he ran through the slum and found his way by the street
names’ alphabetic structure. Slowly they talked through which
families lived where and whose leadership they’d be under until
each man had a general idea of how many souls he’d be responsible
for. Harmon listened carefully, repeating names, and mentally
listing the groupings.

An argument started over the assignment
of the non-Exodians who’d been marched in by Truslow’s soldiers.
Bram quickly designated the ones from Kassandra’s town to Harmon
and the others to Korzon and Teague.

“
Now,” Bram began when
Harmon nodded that he had it all memorized, “you will serve as
judges for the people. At all times. Understand?” The affirmations
were unanimous. “You’ll bring me only the most difficult cases, but
you can handle the simple ones yourselves. You know, like when
someone accuses another of stealing. If the problem is between two
people under your authority, use your discretion. If there’s a
dispute between people under two or three of you, then you work it
out fairly. Come to me if you can’t agree.” He leaned against the
table, weary of standing for so long. “All right, it’s getting
late. I’ll find Malcolm and we’ll announce the groupings as the
people gather their evening meal.”

They filed out of the room and Bram ran
into Malcolm in the hallway.

“
They’ve gone, Bram.”
Malcolm cast his eyes down.

“
I know.” He put his arm on
Malcolm’s shoulder and they walked out into the late afternoon. “We
need your box for some announcements.”

“
Fine. The cloud ain’t
movin’, but I got a feeling it will tomorrow. ’Cause your family’s
gone.”

Bram covered his sigh by clearing his
throat. “I think you’re right, Malcolm.”

Some people were not happy to be under
Eugene or Hamlin. Most didn’t care or didn’t understand the plan,
but listened politely anyway.

Bram spoke little, turning the
microphone over to Harmon when questions arose. He stepped back and
nearly crushed Mira’s toes.

“
Hey,” she said and jumped
aside. “I know you’re probably upset that she left,
but…”

“
It’s for the
best.”

“
Right. And she’s the wrong
skin color for you anyway.”

“
What? What has skin color
got to do with anything? Kassandra’s skin is the same as
yours.”

“
No, I meant
Lydia.”

* * *

I make two false starts. I
leave the airport and run south for half a mile before racing back
to search the hangars. I ask everyone I pass if they’ve seen her.
No one points me in a promising direction. No one nods. No one
repeats her name and
says oh, sure, I’ve
seen her. She’s right over there
. No
one.

I head across the runways and search
the outbuildings. I hurry back and take the tower steps three at a
time, reach the lookout room, and scan in every direction. The
bleak skies press upon the distant lands. The eastward trail
reveals my family quite far away, the fading rays of sunset
glinting off their backs not gold or red, but a fading
blue.

Lydia wouldn’t follow them.

Would she go north, slow enough for us
to catch up to her tomorrow? Or south, back to Exodia? She
certainly wouldn’t head west to chance an encounter with the few
remaining cave-dwellers.

I grab the rod and swing it in all
directions hoping it will somehow divine my course, but there’s no
pull at all. I set it on the console and stumble-run down the
stairs. I burst outside and think again that west toward the
underground city is the least likely route she’d take. So I head
that way, not even thinking to tell my brother or sister, or to
take a jug of water.

I follow the cart tracks Raul made
earlier when we went to the altar. A guilty thought crosses my mind
and a feeling of resignation unleashes my exhaustion. Not a
physical fatigue. A spiritual defeat. I call out the name that
forms in my mouth, but the sound of it echoes backwards, and barks
in my ears.

“
Lydia,” I rasp out her
name again as I pass the mound of leftover rocks. I stub my toe and
lurch forward, catch myself, and stagger toward the
altar.

“
I’m here.”

Her head pops up from the other side
where she is crouched against the bottom slab.

I let myself fall across the altar’s
top, panting, gasping, like a sacrifice unwilling to be still. She
whisks away her tears and I swipe at mine.

“
That can’t be
comfortable,” she croaks out, pointing at the rocks that poke
against my belly. She gives a little laugh, clears her throat, and
in a more velvety tone asks me to sit beside her.

I come around the barrier and lower
myself to slide in next to her, noticing her shoes perched on top
of her bag. Her feet are bare; tiny bits of leaves and ash cling to
the bottoms.

“
Why’d you take your shoes
off?” She follows my gaze to her toes and shrugs her shoulders. Her
eyes throw off sparks of blue and gold.

“
It seemed like holy
ground, I guess.” She brushes off her feet and shivers.

I tap my fingers on the top stone. “I
felt I had to build this.”

“
There’s something
spiritual about you, you know? It’s what I’ve always liked best
about you.”

I don’t know what to say to that. The
sun finishes setting and the temperature drops. She draws the edges
of her garment across her chest, hiding another sign that she’s
grown cold. I can’t help but think of how much I love
her.

“
Lydia…” My heart is as
near to bursting as it was when I sat in the tent studying my sons.
Breaking then. Mending now.

Her eyes betray a difficult question
and I’m quick to answer it.

“
I sent my family away.” I
hold her gaze. She reflects my pain. Understands.

I draw her into my arms and press my
lips against hers. The kiss lingers long. Healing me.

* * *

Lydia melted into Bram’s embrace and
kissed him back with all the passion and longing she’d been
concealing. Ever since he’d returned to Exodia with a wife and
child she’d tried to deny her feelings. The first time, when
Kassandra had left him, she’d allowed herself some hope.

Their journey out of Exodia had brought
them closer, to the edge of something big, they’d even shared an
ardent kiss, but when she’d seen his family return … the revelation
of a new son … the look on his face … she’d lost that
hope.

His kiss was gentle, warm, fulfilling.
There was a promise in this kiss, a promise sealed at the base of
this altar he’d laid with his own strong hands, a promise that wed
their souls.

She wept between kisses, but Bram held
her more tightly, kissed her with equal passion and longing, warmed
her skin, stroked her hair. Lydia’s lost hope was replaced with a
joy that bubbled over until her sobs became laughter.

“
I’m sorry,” she said as
she drew back enough to look him in the eyes. She kept her arms
around his broad shoulders. “I don’t mean to laugh. It’s
just—”