Until the Beginning (23 page)

THE AFTERMATH IS MESSY. THE CLOUDS HAVE
moved away, and the moon is once again visible, casting a silvery light on the lawn. It looks like the scene of a Civil War battlefield, with dead animals and people strewn around, and wounded lying groaning in the mud. The animals that weren’t hurt have disappeared into the forest. It’s over.

Juneau’s people have captured a group of eight guards. The men stand in a circle, hands in the air, as Nome and Kenai point guns at them and wait to be told what to do.

Juneau’s expression is haunted as she turns to go to her people. No matter how she felt about Whit in the end, his death traumatized her. Her eyes are red from weeping, and she presses the heels of her palms into them and takes a deep breath. “I have to take care of things,” she says.

“I’m right here beside you,” I say and scoop up two industrial-sized flashlights that I just scrounged from the garage. Juneau runs her hands through her dripping hair, straightens her clothes, and marches over to the group of prisoners. They squint and frown in the beam of my flashlight.

“Who’s here?” she asks, and looking around the darkened battlefield, lets out a loud musical whistle.

Her clanspeople run over to join her. They’ve swapped their rustic weapons for their enemies’ guns.

“I’m going to organize getting us out of here. Is everyone okay with that?” There is a general murmur of consent.

“Elders, do you grant me authority?” Juneau calls. There is an uneasy silence, and one woman steps forward.

“Juneau, dear, during your absence we gave up all authority we once held and abdicated our right to make decisions for the clan. You’re in charge here.” She steps back, taking her place among the rest of the clan.

Juneau looks uncomfortable, but nods. “All right. Let’s start. Is anyone wounded?”

“Sterling’s shot in the leg, but she’s going to be okay. Palmer’s with her,” someone says.

“There’s a doctor in the garage taking care of Cordova,” says Juneau. “Go tell him he’ll be tending to Sterling next.” The woman nods and jogs away from the group.

Juneau points to two teenage boys that are standing by. “Homer, Tok, you do a sweep of the lawn. Pick up the weapons, even from the dead, and pile them on the front porch. We don’t
want anyone regaining consciousness within reach of a machine gun.” The teenagers whisper a few words to each other and then take off in different directions.

“Elders, take one of these men down to the barracks. Have him show you where the vehicles are. Drive three of them back here.” The three elders nod and, taking one of the guards by the arm, lead him away.

Juneau faces the group of prisoners. “This is how it’s going to work. We’re giving you three vehicles. You take care of your dead and wounded. Load them into the vehicles, and then leave immediately.”

She turns to a tall, thin woman with sandy hair pulled back into a ponytail. “Esther, look after the animals. The rest of you, assist her. Animals that are dying, send them back to Gaia. If any need more care than you can give them here, load them into a truck and take them into Roswell.”

Juneau turns to one last clan member. “Lakes, come with me.” She takes the gun Lakes is holding and hands it to me. “Guard the captives with Kenai and Nome,” she orders, and then whispers, “Please,” and gives me a secretive wink.

Juneau and Lakes walk a ways away, and Juneau begins explaining something to him. After a minute, it looks like they’re arguing. Lakes is upset about whatever she’s telling him. But in the end, he seems to give in, and the two walk back to us, Juneau with her chin-up expression and Lakes looking grim.

From the barracks comes the sound of motors starting, and in a minute three utility trucks pull around the drive and in front of
the house. The elders step out from behind the wheels, and with Lakes, Nome, and Kenai, they spread out with the guards to pick up their wounded and dead and load them into the vehicles. And although they follow the guards with guns in hand, it looks like they don’t even need the weapons. The guards just want to get out of there. As they work, they throw apprehensive glances at the corpse of their ex-boss floating in the fountain.

Finally they all take off in a slow-moving convoy and disappear from sight. The clan members organize in front of Juneau, and she holds up a hand to signal that she’s going to speak.

“Go back down to the barracks and take all of the vehicles you can. We’ve got four elders here, but anyone else who wants to try their hand at driving is welcome. Once you get to Roswell, you’re going to need as many vehicles as possible.

“That’s the last instruction I have for you. From now on you’re on your own. Whether or not the clan decides to stick together is up to you. But I won’t be coming along.”

There is a gasp from those assembled. “Not right away,” Juneau clarifies. “You’ve all had weeks to work this out among yourselves. To think about the past and talk about the future. To forgive one another,” she says, looking directly at the elders.

“I’ve already discussed this with my dad,” she continues. “He told me you were all ready to follow me. Thank you for being willing to entrust your future to me. But I can’t lead you in wisdom if I don’t even know the truth myself.

“I need time to think things out. To figure out what I believe apart from what we’ve been raised with. I’m sure a lot of you
will be doing the same thing, and I want to know what conclusions we all come to. So I’m not abandoning you. Just . . . taking a break. I’ll keep in touch with you through Dad. So this is just a good-bye for now.”

Her people take her one by one into their arms, hugging her and then letting her go. Juneau fights to stay composed as she exchanges words with her clan members.

Kenai and Nome hang back. Juneau’s obviously already spoken to them, because they show no surprise.

Once the last person has embraced Juneau, she holds up her hand once again. “I’ve asked Lakes to organize the practical matters for those of the clan who decide to stick together. As leader of the hunters, he’ll serve best as your tactical planner and will work with the elders, who know about this country and how things work.”

Juneau looks around the group. “I send my love with you on the path we all will take.” And then she turns her back to them, takes my hand, and with Nome and Kenai silently following, leads us back toward the house.

SAYING GOOD-BYE TO MY PEOPLE SO SOON AFTER
finding them is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. Part of me wants to go with them—to join them in Roswell. To catch up on the time we’ve lost. To talk through it all until I understand more: why the elders did what they did, and how their children are dealing with it.

Instead, I take Miles’s hand and walk away. Leave them to clean up the mess—both on the battlefield and in their own lives. Nome and Kenai fall in behind us. They are dirty, wet, scratched-up . . . and their eyes are shining like sunlight on gemstones. After a month of captivity, they had been yearning for a fight, and the post-battle adrenaline makes them both look ready to jump out of their skins.

One car remains in the garage, and the way Miles is staring at it—like he wants to eat it whole—makes me smile. “Is it something special?” I ask.

He nods. “A classic Rolls-Royce Silver Shadow.”

I shrug. “A car’s a car, isn’t it?”

Miles shakes his head, and though his face is smudged with dirt, sweat, and blood, he is glowing with awe. “No,” he says. “Not this one.”

It’s amazing—even after all the trauma we’ve lived through today—Miles is able to make me smile. I wrap my arms around him and give him a quick, sweaty kiss.

Turning to include the others, I ask Miles, “How far away did you park the pickup truck?”

“About a half-hour drive,” he replies.

I nod, thinking. “Okay, Nome. You get behind the wheel. Miles has fifteen minutes to teach you to drive, and then we’ll switch and have Kenai learn. I’ll need you to drive yourselves to Roswell once we get the truck.”

I’ve never seen Nome move so fast. She’s behind the wheel in seconds flat, and Miles has to physically restrain her from pushing all of the buttons. Kenai and I climb in the back and within minutes we are backing out of the garage and making our way across the battlefield.

Our buoyant mood dissolves as we pass the destruction. Oddly, looking out at it from behind the car windows makes it feel more real. More horrific. Some of my clan members look up from what
they’re doing and solemnly wave as we drive by. Others don’t even look up. The cycle of truth telling and forgiveness has just begun. Who knows where it will lead? Will the clan band together like survivors of yet another catastrophe, or will the past be too painful for some to reconcile? Not all will stay. And those who do will have to start from scratch. Begin something new that is based on truth.

As we reach the top of the hill and turn toward the exit, Kenai breaks the silence. “So, great leader, you said we needed to talk.” He cracks his knuckles to let off excess energy.

“I’m not the leader anymore. Won’t ever be,” I say.

“Yeah, right,” Nome says, turning around to look at me, and the car swerves to the right.

“Eyes on the road!” Miles yells, and grabs the steering wheel.

Nome adjusts the car and peers at me through the rearview mirror. “If you’re not leader, who’s going to be? Me?”

“Gaia help us,” murmurs Kenai, and Nome gives him an indignant “hey!”

Kenai nudges me gently. “Can I assume these emergency driving lessons mean you definitely can’t be talked into coming to Roswell with us?”

I shake my head. “No, but I’d like you to go—to help with the regrouping of the clan. Stay while decisions are being made. Decide where you want to go. And once everyone makes their choices, I want you to come find me and tell me.”

“I know the reasons you gave the group for not coming,” Kenai
says, “but there’s more, isn’t there?”

I lean my head back against the seat and sigh. “They’re going to make me be leader whether I want to or not. If I go to Roswell, everyone will look to me for direction. I don’t even want to be a factor in their decision-making. I can’t be there.” I look Kenai in the eyes, and see that he understands. Agrees, even. “I’ll decide what I’m going to do, though, once I hear the decision of the clan.”

We ride in silence, until a few minutes later Miles has Nome pull over to the side of the road, and shows her how to put the car in park. Kenai takes the driver’s seat, and Nome climbs into the back with me, leaning over first for a meaning-laden hug. Kenai pulls onto the road with a jerk, and I quickly show her how to put the seat belt on.

She watches me with wide eyes. “Where will you go?”

At this, Miles turns around, and a whole wordless conversation takes place between us. Finally he says, “I’m going wherever you’re going.”

“Are you sure?” I make my expression blank and wait. It doesn’t matter what I want, this decision is up to him.

He nods, showing me that his choice is made. “Besides, you need me. I’m your oracle—how are you going to figure out what to do without me?” He raises one eyebrow, and I can’t help but crack a smile.

The tension broken, Nome says, “Okay, then, Oracle. Enlighten us as to what Juneau is planning.”

Miles flashes a smile at me. “I don’t have to say it as a riddle, do I?”

I laugh. “No. I prefer straight-out prediction, please.”

He makes sure Kenai is doing okay with the driving, and then turns back to us. He squints, as if he’s looking at something far in the distance, and strokes his chin seriously. “I see a very cold place in Miles and Juneau’s immediate future. A road trip to Alaska. A plane would be more convenient, of course, but since Juneau has no ID”—Miles glances at Nome and clarifies—“identification papers, without even taking into account her acute hatred of air travel, they will travel by car and boat.”

He looks at me for reassurance, and I grin. “Sounds good so far. Go on.”

“Once in the land of tundra, they will proceed immediately to a certain dog shelter, where a very joyful reunion will take place.”

Tears spring to my eyes, and I cover my mouth to hold in my emotion. Miles pretends he doesn’t see and continues.

“With their enthusiastic dog companions, Juneau and Miles will venture to the emergency shelter and on to the yurt encampment to retrieve everything of value, thus ensuring the economic future of the clan.”

I compose myself and say to Nome and Kenai, “He’s right. With what I’ve seen our gold can buy, we’ll all have enough for a good start in this new world.”

“And finally,” Miles says, wrapping up, “the companions make their way back to the mainland, traveling to Utah to stay with a
crazy mountain woman in her ecologically correct cabin in the woods, allowing Juneau time to . . .” He hesitates and glances at Nome and Kenai.

“Go ahead and say it,” I urge.

“De-brainwash—” Miles chances.

“We could all use some of that!” Kenai says, roaring with laughter, and the car swerves slightly before he straightens it out.

Miles smiles and continues, “While she awaits word from her faithful friends about the fate of her clan members. The end.”

“Bravo!” Nome shouts, and we both give him a round of applause.

Miles looks pleased with himself. “Did I get close?” he asks me.

I’m awestruck by his accuracy. Fake oracle prophecies aside, this boy really knows me. “It’s exactly what I was thinking,” I reply.

“What did I tell you?” Miles says. “You need me.” He shrugs, as though it’s obvious, and turns to point at something ahead of us.

Our headlights illuminate the forest-green pickup truck ahead, and Kenai pulls smoothly over to park next to it. As we get out of the car, a cawing noise comes from above, and Poe swoops down to land on the roof of the pickup. “Look who’s been following us,” I say to Miles. “You didn’t figure him into the prophecy.”

“Well, of course he’s coming with us,” Miles says, shrugging as if it were obvious. “What would a trip to Alaska be without our favorite messenger raven?”

“How about you?” I ask Nome and Kenai. “Have you thought
about what you’ll do when this is over?”

Kenai looks at Nome, and back at me. “We’ve been talking about it since we were kidnapped: what we would do in every possible scenario. We decided that if we all got out of there alive, we would set out on our own for a while, hopefully with you and”—he makes a welcome gesture toward Miles—“with whatever random men you happened to pick up along the way, of course.” Miles rolls his eyes but nods, accepting the sidekick role.

Nome speaks up. “At first, we were both pretty bitter and twisted. We’ve forgiven our parents now . . . at least we’ve started to. But we both think we need time away from them. They and the other elders are still learning how to live with themselves.” She wrinkles her nose. “It could be messy.”

“Where will you go?” I ask.

“Why don’t we consult the oracle?” Nome suggests, and nudges Miles.

“Let’s see,” he says, and closes his eyes. “After you two bring the clan’s news to Juneau, we form our own mini-clan and take off for a year or so on an epic road trip of adventure.” He opens one eye to see my reaction, but quickly closes it again as Nome throws herself on him, hugging him around the neck.

“I am totally up for that plan,” Kenai says, nodding in approval.

“Me too,” says Nome, and leans back to look Miles in the face. “You are perfect for Juneau. And, seeing that I’ve known her since we were both toddlers, I don’t give that compliment lightly.” She leans in to kiss him on the cheek, and then skips away with the keys to the car, which Miles had been holding in
his hand. “I’m driving first!” she crows, dangling the keys in front of Kenai before leaping into the driver’s seat and slamming the door behind her.

Kenai sticks his hand out to Miles, who shakes it, much to Kenai’s amusement. I look at him quizzically. “Inside joke,” he tells me, and then gives me one of his signature Kenai bear hugs. “We’ll get directions from Tallie,” he says. “See you in Utah. Stay safe.”

He disappears into the car, and the tires screech as Nome turns around and heads back in the direction we came from.

“We couldn’t have taken the Rolls?” Miles asks.

“Would it stand out parked at the foot of a mountain in Utah?” I respond.

“Point taken,” he says, sighing, and watches until the car disappears around a corner.

Poe caws loudly, and flies from the top of the pickup to land on my shoulder. Miles takes the truck keys out of his pocket and holds them out, offering. I shake my head. “You drive,” I say. “I have a lot to think about.”

We get into the pickup. Poe perches on the seatback between us, and immediately begins cleaning his feathers. “Is he like our bird-child now?” Miles asks, nudging Poe closer to me get the tail out of his face.

“As long as he wants to hang around,” I say with a smile. Miles shrugs his acceptance and starts the engine. He pulls out into the road and turns the truck around to steer us back toward Albuquerque.

We drive in silence for a few minutes before I speak. “There were some things you left out of that prophecy,” I say.

“I know,” Miles admits. “I only said the things I was sure of. I left out the rest.”

“Like . . . ,” I prod.

“Amrit,” he replies. “I know what a negative thing it is to you now that Whit sold your people out to make a buck off it.”

“Or make his name from it,” I add. Miles just nods. Waits.

I sigh. “Part of me wants to never make it again. To make the Rite a thing of the past. But I know I want to use it first.”

Miles breathes a sigh of relief. I take his hand. “Because of you. Because of my people. Because it’s what I’ve shaped my life around. I’ll offer it to Nome and Kenai, too . . . for the same reasons.”

“How about . . . other people?” Miles asks, and something in his voice tells me exactly who he is thinking of. His mother. I’ve thought about her, too.

Could Amrit cure mental illness? What if it didn’t and she took it? Would it consign her to hundreds of years, or more, of unabated depression? I choose my words carefully. “That’s something we’ll both have to think about.”

“Would you like to meet her?” Miles asks, glancing over at me.

“I was thinking that could be the first stop on our epic road trip of adventure,” I say. He puts his arm around me and pulls me close.

“So what about Yale?” I ask.

“Looks like I’m going to have plenty of time to get a degree,” he
replies. “Or ten. I don’t need to start right away.”

I lean my head on his shoulder and watch the landscape speed by. We drive in silence for a while before Miles speaks again. “This is a weird place to be in. For both of us, but more for you than for me.”

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“When we were talking about an epic road trip, I thought of how your life up to now is already like an epic story. Your old life in Alaska is like an entire book that you’ve already worked your way through from start to finish. It’s over. Done. I know you’ll want to read it and reread it until you understand what happened—to make sense out of everything. But pretty soon you’ll be able to close it and move on to a new one. One you haven’t even cracked open. It’s your new life. Just about to start.”

My heart is in my throat—I can’t even talk. This boy knows me better than I know myself.

“So we’re in a weird place right now,” he concludes. “It’s a no-man’s-land between two epic stories. After the end of one . . . waiting until the beginning of the next.”

“What kind of book will the new one be?” I ask, leaning back to look at him—this muddy, brave,
wise
boy who doesn’t even resemble the person he was a few weeks ago. He earned my respect. He earned my friendship. And now he has earned my love.

“A mystery,” he replies with a grin, “with a kick-ass heroine, a hero who is so hopelessly into her that he’ll follow any crazy
plan she suggests, and a bit of magic and action thrown in to keep things interesting.”

I can’t help but beam. “Mysteries are my favorite.”

Miles gives me his quirky smile. “Finally it looks like we’ve got something in common.” He pulls me close to him, and we begin our drive across America. Away from the darkness of our old lives and toward the bright sparkling future of the new.