The Saga Begins [Nuworld 1] (44 page)

Still if Gowsky and his people could believe in something they’d never seen, what could it hurt if she tried to do the same? Certainly, it seemed that
someone
or
something
had just helped her escape.

She skidded the bike around the barn and headed to the point in the force field where the old woman had entered. Tara would not slow down or hesitate in any way. This Crator-being, or the old woman…someone…had faith in her. She could reciprocate. She did not blink once as she drove at high speed.

* * * * *

Gowsky dove at Tara’s bike but missed. He tore at the ground with his shoes as he broke into a full run toward his house.

“Turn off the force field!” he screamed, running through the house, knocking over an end table, heading for the small room off his living room. He screamed again, “Turn the force field off now!”

Fleeders was right behind him as the two stormed into the small room, startling the young woman sitting at a landlink.

“What?” She turned in her chair, looking surprised and bewildered at the unusual request.

“She’ll electrocute herself.” Gowsky almost knocked over the confused woman as he reached for the console in front of her. A beeping sound began, and a red light flashed next to one of several monitors. “She thinks she has some gift from Crator and can just drive straight through that thing.”

The trio watched the monitor with the flashing red light. Tara could be seen driving at full speed through the backyard toward the trees. Another light began flashing, indicating the force field had been dismantled. Tara drove through the trees and disappeared from the screen’s view. Gowsky hurried out of the small room, leaving the poor lady completely at a loss as to what to do next.

“You let her go!” Fleeders followed him.

“You heard her. She said she saw Crator. She was going to run right into that force field. Her bike is completely electronic—she’d have been fried to a crisp.”

“She told me an old lady talked to her in the desert one night, and she just said she saw an old lady again. Maybe Crator
is
talking to her,” Fleeders spoke quietly, as if afraid of being overheard. He looked around the empty living room. “She told me the woman disappeared into the darkness and then she saw a large dog. Gowsky, she knows nothing about the Guardians. She wanted to research Crator through our network but I told her…” Fleeders’ voice faded quickly. He made eye contact with Gowsky and then shuffled from one foot to the other, suddenly very uncomfortable.

“You never told me that you discussed Crator with her. What did you tell her? And when did this conversation take place?”

“Well, uh, I told her it would raise suspicion if she started researching Crator.”

“When did you talk to her?”

“Uh, the night that…” Fleeders hesitated, searching for words. He wanted to say the night that Gowsky burned down his life’s work, the night their communication with the Lunians ended. “It was the night you brought her here.”

Gowsky stared at Fleeders for a moment. So Fleeders had been communicating with Tara when he was supposed to be spying on her. The man possessed outstanding landlink skills, but his religious faith bordered on the superstitious. It amazed Gowsky that even the most intelligent of people could allow something as simple as faith in Crator to consume their life and affect rational decision-making.

Gowsky didn’t have time for this. He gave Fleeders a look that said the conversation was not over. He straightened the small table he’d knocked over, opened the small drawer in it, and pulled out a gun. Shoving it into the side of his pants, he once again ran out of the house.

* * * * *

Tara didn’t shut her eyes. She didn’t blink. She didn’t slow down. She felt the roots of the trees through the vibration of her bike and realized the tires probably needed air. She looked straight ahead as the trees cleared and could see the desert. And suddenly, she was in the desert.

She had done it. She had driven through the force field.

Was this the act of Crator? Who was this Crator? She looked ahead to the vast openness, glanced behind her to see the trees fading. Suddenly the frigid wind hit her skin, mocking the khaki shirt and the layers of material covering her legs, causing her to shiver uncontrollably.

Gowsky would follow her. Escape would not be this easy. She needed direction. West. She needed to go west.

Ignoring the waves of cold air streaming across her body, she veered the motorcycle. She was not accustomed to navigation without her landlink. But one of the tests she’d passed as a young warrior was finding her way back to the clan without the aid of her navigation program. She’d been one of the first Runners to make it back, and she remembered how proud Patha had been. He hadn’t shown it in front of the rest of the clan, but that night, as she’d cleaned her bike, he’d told her. She’d never forget the look in his eyes—unconditional love.

Tara’s eyes burned, and she began crying. The tears felt like fire, burning her face as they fell quickly down her cheeks. She tasted the salt in her mouth even though it was firmly shut to keep her teeth from chattering. She struggled with the tears as they persisted, fogging her vision.

Patha thought she was dead. Had he cried? She’d never seen him cry before. He was a true warrior and strong emotions would cloud judgment, she decided. Patha wouldn’t cry. She decided it was more likely he’d been angry—angry that he’d let her go to Southland. Because she knew that Patha could have stopped her if he’d wanted to. Somehow she needed to let him know she was alive and coming home.

Tara looked up at the sky, noticing the sun was moving to the west. She knew the desert would drop below freezing once nightfall hit. However, the farther north she drove, the colder it would get. She was not properly dressed and would freeze to death if she didn’t find heavier clothing.

Looking ahead once again, she quickly veered to avoid a large animal directly in front of her. Her bike slid in the sand, and for a moment she thought she would lose her balance. Once again, she cursed the clothes she was wearing. If she injured herself, she would only freeze faster. She slowed the bike and regained control.

As she turned, Tara’s mouth fell open. The same old woman sat next to a fire, stirring something in a pot that hung over the flames.

Tara steered her bike up next to the woman and got off. “We meet again.”

The woman didn’t look up. “It’s almost ready. Hurry and change clothes.” The old woman pointed the wooden spoon to something behind Tara.

Tara turned to see a tan tent set up next to her bike. She looked at it in amazement, afraid to move. For the second time in days, she felt fear, and her shivering became uncontrollable. The tent had not been there a second ago. She was sure of it. Was she somehow still delirious from the drug she’d been given over the past six cycles? Maybe this whole thing was some drug-induced dream. For all she knew, she could still be unconscious, her inner thoughts creating this bizarre scenario.

She slowly turned to the woman who was still hunched over the fire.

“You’ll freeze if you don’t change. Your clothes are inside. I’ll make you a plate.”

Tara approached the tent, touching it gently, not completely convinced it was actually there. The roughness of the animal skin stretched over the wooden poles greeted her fingertips. Tara pulled the flap covering the entrance to one side and stepped inside. Immediately, warmth engulfed her. Her eyes adjusted quickly to the dimness, and she saw a small folding canvas chair set in the middle of the tent. Her Runner clothing was folded neatly on top.

She stared at the folded pile of black woven silk and smelled the crisp black leather before carefully touching them and picking up the top piece of clothing. It was her silk black undershirt! As she held the piece of material in front of her, she inhaled the familiar scent of her clothes—the sweet, fresh smell, as if it had just been washed.

As she finished dressing and put on her black leather jacket, Tara was instantly aware of the small laser in her right pocket where she always kept it. Tara left the tent and walked over to the old woman.

“Ah, that’s better. Here, sit.” The old woman gestured at her with a plate of steaming food in a crooked, wrinkled hand.

Tara took the plate and sat on the ground next to the old woman’s feet. “How did you get my clothes?”

“Crator got them.”

“Who is Crator?”

Their eyes met and the old woman smiled. “You’ll know when your heart is ready, I guess.” She nodded at the food. “Eat up. It’s potato stew.”

“Potato stew?” Tara looked down at the steaming plate of food. “This was my favorite meal when I was a child.” She suddenly realized the old woman probably knew that.

Tara felt ashamed as she finished off the last bite of the wonderful stew. Her manners must have appeared insufferable. She hadn’t stopped since taking the first bite. She stood up and took the plate over to the fire. Her insides were warm from the thick stew, and her body rejoiced at the comfort of her own clothing. She picked up her headscarf and wrapped it snugly around her head, securing it in the back. “You’ve been very kind to me. I wish I could repay you, but I have nothing.”

The old woman ignored her and started to clean the dishes in a bucket of water on the ground.

“Let me clean up.” Tara quickly squatted in front of the bucket and picked up her dirty dish.

“Don’t worry, child.” The woman took the plate from Tara. “You don’t need to repay me. I’m simply a Guardian. You need to get that bike in order. You have a long trip ahead of you.”

“What is a guardian?”

“I serve Crator and do as He says.”

“Where is he?”

The old woman chuckled, apparently amused by the question. “Crator is everywhere, my dear.” She looked up from her chore and again pointed the wooden spoon in her hand. “You’ll find some tools behind the tent, I think.” She sounded distracted, like an old person who wasn’t sure where she’d left something.

“Do you live around here?”

“I go wherever I’m needed. Crator sends me.”

Tara sighed. She wanted to know more, but wasn’t sure which questions to ask. “So Crator takes care of you?”

“Child, he takes care of you, too.” The old woman chuckled, placed the leftover stew in a bowl and put it into a travel bag. “Your faith shall grow, child, don’t worry. You are young.”

“My mission here wasn’t too successful.” She paused, studying the old lady’s face, looking for the right words. “I’m glad I’ve learned of your Crator, though. I wish we had something like him in Northland.”

The old lady slowly stood and moved next to Tara. “You’ve learned exactly what you were supposed to learn while you were here.” She took Tara by the arm and, at a snail’s pace, escorted her to the bike. “Child, Crator is everywhere, and He will take care of all who know Him.” She let go of Tara’s arm. “Take care of your bike, child.”

Tara wasn’t completely surprised to see exactly what she needed to tune up her motorcycle—spark plugs, a hand pump so she could inflate the tires and a large metal can, which, after smelling its contents, Tara realized was full of fuel.

Several hours later, the bike was in prime condition, ready for the long journey north. Tara cleaned the tools and returned them to the place she’d found them.

As she walked back around the tent, she noticed two things at once.

First, a large dog lay protectively next to the fire. Second, a vehicle approached the small campsite.

Tara pulled out her laser, prepared to fight for her life.

Chapter Nineteen

The large beast curled up its lips and growled as the vehicle slowed just feet from the tent. The hairs on its back rose to full alert and its head lowered to the ground. Just as the animal prepared to jump at the intruder, an explosion rang through the air.

A horrific scream violated the campsite, curdling Tara’s blood. The ground shook under her feet as the large dog fell to the ground.

“No!” Tara screamed and leapt out from behind the tent, firing her laser.

Gowsky stood next to his jeep, but his return shot missed her completely as the laser shot penetrated his right shoulder. This time the scream renting the night air belonged to Gowsky as he hit the side of his jeep and fell to the ground.

“Shoot again and you die.” Tara’s voice rang out. In her full Runner garb, she walked to Gowsky and ripped the gun from his hand before throwing it across the sandy terrain.

“Your clothes,” Gowsky struggled to speak as pain racked his body, “they were sent back with your family.”

Tara ignored him and instead moved to the side of the breathless animal. She stroked its bloody coat softly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t hear him coming. I’m so sorry.” She wept freely, and the tears mixed with the blood on the animal’s coat.

Gowsky’s groans didn’t affect her as she cooed softly to the dead animal. “I’m so sorry. I’ll give you a proper burial,” she whispered into the ear of the dead canine and then turned to survey the contents of the campsite.

Gowsky crawled into his jeep, pulled out a small first aid kit and began to treat his wound. Tara ignored him as she looked for tools to dig a grave. All she could find were several large metal spoons and a large knife she used to break the dirt before scooping it away.