Copperback (24 page)

“Here
you go. Not sure if this will help.”

He
slid them on, feeling more at ease. Each passing car’s lights had no more
effect on him than driving in daylight.

“Ooh.
Those glasses really finish the look.”

“Do
they really?” he asked.

“No.
I don’t think that style quite suits you.”

He
laughed along with me, enjoying the small jokes we could share. The weight of
the world had been lifted.

“Lay
back and get some sleep. We won’t be there till at least morning.”

“I
just slept for a whole day. I don’t think I could go back to sleep so soon.”

As
soon as I said it, I felt another yawn come on. He looked over at me with a
smirk on his face, eyebrow raised. I was starting to wonder if he knew my body
better than me.

“Okay.
A quick nap, but then you better wake me up. I don’t want to sleep the whole
way.”

“I’ll
be here when you wake up.”

He
turned on the radio and began to hum to the beat, picking it up after only one
chorus. His smooth voice was relaxing, and I drifted off. He wasn’t going
anywhere. It was almost over. There was nothing going to attempt to separate us
any longer. It felt good.

I
wasn’t ready to open my eyes yet. Job held my hand through the night, squeezing
softly, unless he had stopped to get gas or something to eat at rest stops
along the way. The lack of traffic and the credit card made it easy to get in and
out before being noticed.

Every
time I woke up, I offered to take over, mumbling to him, but he refused each
time, telling me he was too excited to sleep. Within minutes, I would feel his hand
again, and would automatically fall back into slumber, the dreamless sleep
pulling me in.

The
car came to a stop again. Looking through sleep-laden eyes, I could see a
desolate parking lot and small hut. Job stayed in the car, laying his head back
and closing his eyes.

“You
done driving?”

“No.
My leg is really sore, and I need to give it a rest for a little while before
going anymore.”

I
pulled him as close as the car would let me, bringing his face to mine. I held
it there, but his temperature didn’t change. I leaned in closer, wondering why
it didn’t work. His eyes studying mine, he leaned in, lips brushing against my
cheek.

“I
get the feeling you’ve helped me with this as much as you can,” he said,
pressing his lips together hard and blowing out air, eyebrows raised in
resignation.

“Then
it’s my turn to drive, as long as you can tell me where I’m going.”

I
swung my door open, and walked to the hut in search of caffeine. When I came
back, I saw that he had already moved to the other side, waiting in the
passenger seat. I had to slide the seat up to reach any of the pedals; his long
legs had pushed the seat back as far as it would go.

“Keep
heading south on this road. We should be getting close in a few hours.”

“Thank
you, Rand McNally. Does that mean you’re going to sleep?”

“No.
Too wired right now. I think I drank, like, six cans of soda. I’m pretty sure
I’ll be awake for the next few days.” He gave a huge grin, flashing his pearly
whites my way, showing how awake he was.

“So,
did you listen to the radio all night long?”

“Yeah.
I really like music. There is one called jazz and another called light rock I
really liked the best. They also had one where a guy was just talking, and
people called in to comment. It was pretty interesting.”

“What
was it about, if I may ask?” I was interested in his discovery, since something
new to him was usually something we took for granted every day.

“The
guy was talking about a group called MSR. It stands for Movement for Sayner
Rights. They are trying to get a law passed to stop the slavery. I was
surprised how many people called in to support them.” He seemed eager to share
what he had learned, and I was more than willing to listen.

“So
it was good?”

“Yeah.
He said we were framed from the start, and the government should stop relying
on the Vesper to solve every problem. There were a few who called in to argue
with him, but they didn’t stay on long.”

Hearing
there were still good people out there willing to fight was nice, even as bleak
as the Sayner’s situation seemed. For ten years, there had been riots and
protests over the slavery, but all had failed to accomplish anything. Every
time the issue was presented, something would happen to set it back. Sometimes
there would be reports of murders that happened surrounding a group of Sayner.
Every bill for Sayner’s rights that made it to some government office was discarded
before it could be examined and processed. As many times as I heard about this happening,
I couldn’t bring myself to tell Job that this, too, would be another dead end,
and not to put too much stock in anything positive changing in the near future.
As wrong as it felt to keep my opinion from him, there was no reason to bring
him down.

“See
– not everyone is like Derrick,” I said. “I’m sure there are some people who
don’t treat you like animals.”

He
became quiet, as though I had said the wrong thing. The sadness on his face was
apparent. There was something he was remembering; a painful memory. I tried to
change the subject quickly, but he started to talk before I had the chance.

“Maggie
wasn’t bad. She liked me. She treated me like family, as much as she could.”

“She
was who owned you before the Carter’s?”

He
nodded, “Her husband bought me from the camp. He thought it would be nice to
have an extra set of hands on his farm. He was older, and needed someone who
could do the dirty work and heavy lifting.”

“So,
they both were good to you, then?” I was feeling better that his time with
Derrick was short lived.

“No.
He didn’t want me near the house, so I slept in the barn, because Maggie
convinced him that if I got sick, I would be useless. She would buy me clothes
and bring food. She was the closest thing I’ve ever had to family.”

“If
she was so good, why did you have to leave? I know he retired, but she could
have made sure you went somewhere better.”

The
pain in his face grew stronger. I could see it was becoming increasingly hard for
him to talk about it without getting upset. Something horrible had happened.

“At
first, she acted like nothing was wrong, but insisted I leave and take my
freedom. She thought if I didn’t know, I would go. But I knew. I knew she was
getting sick, because her visits were less frequent each week. Eventually, she
stopped coming altogether. I could tell it was bad; her husband became more
irritated with me if I didn’t work hard enough, or took too long of a break.

“He
found the books she had brought me, and kicked me out of the barn. Then he
stopped coming, himself. I sat in the pig sty for almost a week, waiting for
him to come back. When he did, he told me he had found someone else who would take
me, and I was sold to the Carter’s.”

Hearing
this after our fight about family, I understood why he had given in so quickly.
He had said he didn’t understand, but in a way he did. The situation had been
different, and the time he had with Maggie had been short, but he still knew
what it felt like to lose someone he cared about.

I
wasn’t sure if there was anything I could say that would make him feel better. He
had finally opened up to somebody, something that sounded like he had never
been given the chance to do, and now he needed a moment to reflect and mourn
his loss in silence. It had taken me five years to get over my mother’s death,
and he had just started. I knew how it felt to have people try to make you feel
better when it hurt.

After
some time, I found that my stomach wasn’t going to wait until we made our destination,
so I stopped at a drive-thru, opting to go inside. I ordered a regular portion
for me, but doubled up on his, making sure he wouldn’t ask to stop again in an
hour. Bringing it out to the car, I found Job in a better mood.  It appeared he
had moved on, although it was apparent that he still felt a slight sting from
our conversation.

The
remainder of the ride passed smoothly, as we listened to the radio – pointing
out songs and artists I liked, and finding out some of his favorites. His
singing skills were lacking. I tried not to cringe at his screeching, but he could
tell I was fighting to keep from smiling, and gave up, asking me to sing
instead. I sang as he hummed along, picking up the melody of the song.

As
I followed his directions, the road turned into two grooves of dirt and took us
away from the highway, into empty fields and brush. The further we got off the
beaten path, the more the sound of rattlesnakes and other wildlife could be
heard through the open windows. Back home, the only snakes I ran into were the
occasional garden variety, but out here, the animals were quite different, and
watching your step was a good idea.

“I
think this is it,” Job said, a little less enthused than I had hoped.

His
fear of going to meet them again was creeping up in his voice. My gut told me
he would be accepted, as long as he was willing to give it a chance, but my
head still questioned whether that was true. I wanted to see him happy – not
just with me, but with his own people.

The
road stopped at a rundown coal mine at the edge of the field – deserted, after
the change to New Energy had collapsed the fossil fuels industry. The conveyor
belts were rusted away, and boards were nailed over every entrance. We pulled
up next to a dilapidated building; the siding had begun to show signs of
abandonment, and most of the windows were broken in. If this was meant to be a
place of salvation, it looked like a bust.

“I
don’t think anyone is here, Job. The building looks like it’s been empty for a
few years. Maybe we should try one of the other ones you saw on the map.”

“This
is it, and they wouldn’t be in the building. They are going to be inside the
mine, underground.”

“Why
underground? Wouldn’t it be better to be in a building?” I had been thinking
that wherever we would end up would be more like the kind of shelter I was used
to. Running water, and maybe a bed to sleep in, didn’t seem like too much to
ask for.

“It’s
more like home,” he said, seeing that I was having issues trying to imagine a
safe haven below ground.

Looking
at all the entrances to the mine, I couldn’t tell which one would lead down into
the hiding place. How could anyone live inside a mine for their whole life? If
I stayed here, the coal would bother me every day, as I’d be covered head to
toe with soot. I began to hope he was wrong, and that we could look somewhere
else for our shelter.

He
had already gotten out of the car and was walking up to the entrances, waiting
at each, closing his eyes, and then moving to the next. I followed, watching
and waiting for him to say that it wasn’t here, but as he reached the third one,
he stopped completely and opened his eyes, looking for a way to remove the
beams that kept us out.

“Okay,
well – I don’t know about you, but I didn’t bring a flashlight, and I’m not
sure how we are supposed to get down there in the dark. I doubt the lights
still work. Let’s turn around, and we can come back.”

He
pulled one board loose and set it down, so there was enough room to crawl in.
“I can see just fine without the light. I’ll hold your hand and lead you. You
trust me, right?”

He
put his hand out, waiting for me to take it. Anything could be living in the
dark space, including a few bats and insects I was not looking forward to
encountering. I would have to rely on him to maneuver around objects, and even
as I remembered how well he could see in the dark, I was still concerned that
the complete lack of light would throw him off and lead us into something
worse.

“I
trust you. Just don’t let me fall over something.”

“Never
would.”

Once
we had crawled our way inside, cracks in the planks let in enough light for me
to see that the entrance was scattered with abandoned equipment. Our movements
kicked up dust from the ground, and I could taste the raw minerals on my
tongue. Job led me away from the light, into the pitch. I walked through the
black on black, listening to his voice. Every time he looked back at me, the
light caught the gold of his eyes, reflecting it like an animal’s. As we proceeded,
the reflection grew dimmer, until we were completely shrouded in the dark.

He
was nice enough to move slower whenever there was something blocking the way, warning
me and giving me time to stumble past it. The air grew heavy and thick, and
felt like I was breathing pea soup.

“Is
it much further?” I asked. “I think I’m getting sick.”

My
stomach had taken on a queasy feeling as we descended deeper. I wanted to put
out my hand to make sure I wouldn’t fall over, but was too afraid of what could
be crawling along the walls that might decide to take a nibble. I kept my hand
close to my body and eventually moved it to my stomach, trying to keep the
sickness at bay.

“Not
sure. I can feel them. They are down here somewhere. It can’t be that far now.”

As
we continued, the only thing I could feel was Job’s hand on mine, taking me
further into the empty darkness. I listened to the sound of our feet shifting
dust as we went along. His footsteps began to take on a more normal rhythm,
other than his limp. The atmosphere was making him stronger, and I was growing
weaker. The oxygen was becoming too thin for me to breath.

“Job
– I need – to – stop. I can’t – breathe,” I said between laborious breaths.

“Hang
on just a bit more. I know it’s not much further. It’s becoming stronger. I can
feel them close now.”

He
pulled me closer to him, bending his head down, so I could breathe in as he
exhaled. As much as it should have been easier, the depleted oxygen was making
my head spin. The knot in my stomach grew tighter, and my head hung low from
exhaustion. Job’s hand held my face closer as he spoke words that didn’t make any
sense to me. I was overcome with sickness, and my lungs were on fire.

“I
– can’t–” They were the last words I could muster.

Job
was nearly dragging me, holding me with both arms, as my feet quit working. I
could see small flashes of light dancing in front of my eyes. Even when I
closed them, the lights stayed – flashbulbs going off, never lighting the tunnel.
It made sense why they had chosen this place. A human would never find them. I
was going to die, and even though Job tried to breathe for me, there was
nothing he could do to save me. The rest of my body shut down, and the air he
was forcing into my lungs didn’t help – there just wasn’t enough oxygen. I was
happy to know my last breath would be with him at my side, even though I
couldn’t see him. The image of him in my mind was the last thing I saw before I
passed out.