The Traveler (29 page)

"But you haven't really broken away from modern life," Maya said. "You have computers and electricity."

"And modern medicine," Joan said. "I consult with other physicians on the Internet and we have basic group insurance in case of severe illness. I don't know if
it's
exercise, diet, or lack of stress, but people rarely get sick around here."

"We didn't want to run away from the world and pretend to be medieval farmers," Martin said. "Our objective was to gain control of our lives and prove that this

of ours can work. There are other groups like New Harmony—the same mix of high tech and low tech—and we're all connected by the Internet. A new community just started in Canada about two months ago."

Gabriel hadn't spoken for a while, but he kept staring at Martin. "Tell me something," he said. "What was the name of this Traveler?"

"Matthew"

"And what was his last name?"

"He never gave us one," Martin said.

"Do you have a photograph of him?"

"I think we have one in the storage chest." Rebecca stood up. "Should I ..."

"No need for that," Antonio said. "I've got one."

He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a leather memo book that was stuffed with lists, old receipts, and building plans. Placing the book on the table, he thumbed through the pages,
then
pulled out a small photograph.

"My wife took
this
four days before the Traveler left. He ate dinner at my house that night."

Holding one edge of the photograph like it was a precious relic, Antonio handed it across the table. Gabriel took the photograph and stared at it for a long time.

"And when was this taken?"

"About eight years ago."

Gabriel looked up at them. His face showed pain, hope, joy. "This is my father. He was supposed to be dead, destroyed in a fire, but here he is—sitting next to you."

Gabriel sat beneath the night sky and examined the frayed snapshot of his father. More than anything, he wanted Michael to be there with him. The brothers had stood beside the charred remains of the farmhouse in South Dakota. They had driven around the country together, whispering at night when their mother was asleep. Was Father still alive? Was he looking for them?

The Corrigans had searched for their father constantly, expecting to see him sitting at a bus stop or gazing out the window of a café. Sometimes, when they entered a new town, the brothers would glance at each other, feeling tense and excited. Maybe their father was living here. Maybe he was close-very close—just
drive
two blocks west and turn left. It was only when they reached Los Angeles that Michael announced that the speculation was over. Father was dead or gone forever. Let's forget about the past and move on.

While the stars glimmered overhead, Gabriel questioned the four members of New Harmony. Antonio and the others were sympathetic, but they couldn't give him much information. They didn't know how to find the Traveler. He hadn't contacted them or left an address.

"Did he ever mention that he had a family?
A wife?
Two sons?"
Rebecca placed her hand on Gabriel's shoulder. "No. He never said anything."

"What did he tell you when he said goodbye?"

"He embraced each of us and then he stood in the doorway." Martin's voice was strained, filled with emotion. "He said that powerful men would try to make us frightened and filled with hate. They would try to control our lives and distract us ..."

"...
with
glittering illusions," Joan said.

"Yes.
With glittering illusions.
But we should never forget that the Light was in our hearts."

The photograph—and Gabriel's reaction to it—did solve one problem. Antonio no longer believed that he and Maya were Tabula spies. As they finished the wine, Antonio explained that the community was protecting a Pathfinder and this person lived in an isolated location about thirty miles north. If they still wanted to go, he would take them there tomorrow morning.

***

MAYA WAS SILENT walking back to the Blue House. When they reached the front door, she stepped in front of Michael and entered the house first. There was a feeling of aggressiveness about this act—as if each new location was a place where they might be attacked. The Harlequin didn't switch on the lights. She seemed to have memorized the position of each piece of furniture. She quickly inspected the house and then they faced each other in the living room.

"
It's
okay, Maya. We're safe here."

The Harlequin shook her head as if he had said something very foolish. Safety was a false word for her.
Another illusion.

"I've never met your father and I don't know where he is," Maya said. "But I just wanted to say that—maybe he did this to protect you. Your house was destroyed. Your family went underground. According to our spy, the Tabula thought you were dead. You would have been safe if Michael hadn't gone back on the Grid."

"That might have been the reason. But I still ..."

"You want to see him."

Gabriel nodded.

"Maybe you'll find him one day. If you have the power to become a Traveler, you might meet him in another realm."

***

GABRIEL CLIMBED THE ladder to the loft bed. He tried to sleep, but it was impossible. As a cold wind came down the canyon and rattled the window frame, Gabriel sat on the bed and tried to become a Traveler. None of this was real. His body wasn't real. And he could leave it. Just. Like. That.

For an hour or so, he argued with himself. Assuming that I have the power,
then
all I have to do is accept that fact. A plus B equals C. When logic didn't work, he closed his eyes and was swept away by his own emotions. He could find his father and talk to him if he could break away from this cage of flesh. Within his mind, Gabriel tried to walk from darkness into light, but when he opened his eyes he was still sitting on the bed. Feeling angry and frustrated, he pounded his fist on the mattress.

Eventually, he fell asleep and woke up at dawn with the rough wool blanket wrapped around his body. When the shadows disappeared from the corners of the loft, Gabriel pulled on his clothes and climbed down the ladder. No one was in the bathroom and the bedroom was also empty. He went down the hallway to the kitchen and peered through a crack in the door. Maya sat with her sword case on her lap and her left hand flat on the table, staring at a patch of sunlight on the red tile floor. The sword and the intense expression on her face made him feel as if the Harlequin was cut off from any real human contact. He doubted if there could be a more solitary life: always hunted, always prepared to fight and die.

Maya turned slightly when Gabriel entered the kitchen. "Did they leave us anything for breakfast?" he asked.

"There's tea and instant coffee in the cupboard.
Milk, butter, and a loaf of bread in the refrigerator."

"That's enough for me." Gabriel filled a kettle and placed it on a burner of the electric stove. "Why didn't you make something?" "I'm not hungry."

"Do you know anything about this Pathfinder?" Gabriel asked. "Is he young or old? What's his nationality? They didn't give us any information last night."

"The Pathfinder is their secret. Hiding him is their act of resistance against the Vast Machine. Antonio was right about one thing: this community could get in a lot of trouble if the Tabula knew we were here."

"And what happens when we meet the Pathfinder? Are you going to hang around and watch me fall on my face?"

"I've got other things to do. Don't forget, the Tabula are continuing to look for you. I've got to make them believe that you're somewhere else."

"And how do you plan to do that?"

"You said your brother gave you money and a credit card when you were separated at the clothing factory."

"Sometimes I use his card," Gabriel said. "I don't have any of my own."

"Think I could borrow it?"

"What about the Tabula? Aren't they going to trace the card number?"

"I'm expecting that," Maya said. "I'll use the card and your motorcycle."

Gabriel didn't want to lose the motorcycle, but he knew that Maya was right. The Tabula knew the bike's license plate number and a dozen other ways to track him down. Everything from his old life had to be discarded.

"Okay." He gave her Michael's credit card and the motorcycle key. Maya looked as if she wanted to tell him something important, but she stood up without a word and walked to the doorway. "Eat your breakfast," she said. "Antonio is going to be here in a few minutes."

"This might be a waste of time. I might not be a Traveler." "I've accepted that possibility."

"So don't risk your life and do something crazy."

Maya looked at him and smiled. Gabriel felt like they were connected to each other at that moment. Not friends, exactly, but soldiers in the same army. And then, for the first time in their relationship, he heard the Harlequin laugh.

"It's all crazy, Gabriel. But you find your own sanity."

***

ANTONIO CARDENAS SHOWED up ten minutes later and said he would drive them to where the Pathfinder was living. Gabriel took along the jade sword and the knapsack filled with his extra clothes. In the back of Antonio's pickup truck were three canvas bags of canned food, bread, and fresh vegetables from the greenhouses.

"When the Pathfinder first arrived, I spent a month at the site setting up a windmill to power a water pump and electric lights," Antonio said. "Now I just show up every two weeks with food supplies."

"So what's he like?" Gabriel asked. "You haven't really told us."

Antonio waved at some children as the truck moved slowly down the road. "The Pathfinder is a very strong person. Tell the truth and you'll be all right."

They reached the two-lane highway that led back to San Lucas, but turned off a few miles later onto an abandoned asphalt road that cut a straight line through the desert. NO TRESPASSING signs were everywhere, some hanging from steel posts, others left faceup on the cracked ground.

"This used to be a missile base," Antonio explained. "It was active for about thirty years.
Fenced off.
Top secret.
Then the Defense Department took out the missiles and sold the land to the county sanitation district. When the county didn't want it anymore, our group bought all four hundred acres."

"This looks like a wasteland," Maya said.

"As you'll see, it has certain advantages for the Pathfinder."

Bear grass and cactus reached out and scratched the sides of the truck. The road was covered with sand for a hundred yards or so,
then
it reappeared. As the road slowly gained elevation they began passing piles of red rocks and groves of Joshua trees. Each stubby desert tree raised its spike-leafed branches upward like the arms of a prophet praying to heaven. It was very hot and the sun appeared to grow larger in the sky.

After twenty minutes of cautious driving, they reached a barbed-wire fence and a shattered gate. "We have to walk from here," Antonio said, and everyone got out of the truck. Carrying the food bags, they slipped through a hole in the gate and headed down the road.

Gabriel could see one of Antonio's windmills in the distance. The heat rising from the dirt made the tower waver and bend. Before he could react, a snake slithered across the road. It was about three feet long with a rounded head, a black body with cream-colored bands. Maya stopped and touched her sword case.

"It's not poisonous," Gabriel said. "I think it's a garter snake or gopher snake. They're usually pretty shy."

"It's a king snake," Antonio told them. "And they're not shy around here."

They kept walking and saw another king snake moving through the dirt, then a third one sunning itself on the road. All the snakes had black bodies, but the pattern and color of their bands seemed to vary.
White.
Cream.
Pale yellow.

More snakes appeared on the road and Gabriel stopped counting. Dozens of reptiles coiled and slithered and looked around with their little black eyes. Maya appeared nervous—almost frightened. "You don't like snakes?"

She lowered her arms and tried to relax. "You don't see many in England."

As they got closer to the windmill, Gabriel saw that it had been built next to a rectangular concrete area about the size of a football field. It looked like an enormous machine-gun bunker abandoned by the army. Directly south of the concrete area was a small aluminum trailer that reflected the desert light. A parachute had been set up as a sunscreen over a wooden picnic table and plastic boxes filled with tools and supplies.

The Pathfinder was kneeling near the base of the windmill, welding a reinforcement strut. He wore blue jeans, a long-sleeved checkered shirt, and thick leather gloves. A welder's helmet covered his face and he appeared to be concentrating on the flame as he fused two pieces of metal.

A four-foot-long king snake slithered by, almost grazing the tip of Gabriel's boots. He could see that the sand on both sides of the road was marked with thousands of faint S curves, a sign of reptile movements across the dry land.

Thirty feet from the tower, Antonio shouted and waved his arms. The Pathfinder heard him, stood up, and raised the welder's helmet. At first Gabriel assumed that the Pathfinder was an old man with white hair. As they got closer he realized that they were about to meet a woman who was more than seventy years old. She had a broad forehead and a straight nose. It was a face of great strength without an ounce of sentimentality.

"Good morning, Antonio. You brought some friends this time." "Dr. Briggs, this is Gabriel Corrigan. He's the son of a Traveler and wants to know if—"

"Yes.
Of course.
Welcome." The doctor had a brisk New England accent. She pulled off one of the welder's gloves and shook Gabriel's hand. "I'm Sophia Briggs." Her fingers were strong and her blue-green eyes were intense, critical. Gabriel felt like he was being evaluated and then she turned away from him. "And you are ..."

"Maya.
Gabriel's friend."

Dr. Briggs noticed the black metal case hanging from Maya's shoulder and understood what it contained.
"How interesting.
I thought all you Harlequins were dead, slaughtered after various self-destructive gestures. Perhaps you're too young for this business."

"And maybe you're too old."

"There's some spirit.
A little resistance.
I like that." Sophia returned to her trailer and tossed the welder's gear into a plastic milk crate lying on the ground. Startled by the noise, two large king snakes came out of the shadow beneath the trailer and slithered over to the windmill.

"Welcome to the land of
Lampropeltis
getula,
the common king snake. Of course, there's nothing common about them. They're brave, clever, perfectly lovely reptiles—another one of God's gifts to a fallen world. What you're seeing is subspecies
splendida,
the Arizona desert king snake. They eat copperheads and rattlesnakes as well as frogs, birds, and rats. They just love to kill rats.
Especially large, nasty ones."

"Dr. Briggs studies snakes," Antonio said.

"I'm a biologist specializing in reptiles. I taught for twenty-eight years at the University of New Hampshire until they forced me out. You should have seen President Mitchell, a silly little man who can barely walk upstairs without huffing and puffing, telling me that I was too frail for the classroom. What nonsense. A few weeks after the retirement dinner, I started getting messages from my Internet friends that the Tabula had discovered I was a Pathfinder."

Antonio dropped his canvas food bag on the table. "But she wouldn't leave."

"And why should I? I'm no coward. I own three firearms and know how to use them. Then Antonio and Martin found out about this site and lured me here. You two are clever schoolboys."