information than that. And so I’ve spent
the last almost twenty years doing what
he asked. Not knowing why. Not
knowing when or how I’d use it. Not
knowing
who
wanted it, or when they’d
come after me, and what they’d do to me
when they found it.”
He could see the vague outline of her
head, the long swath of ink-black hair
obscuring the curve of her neck and
shoulder. Somehow, a shaft of moonlight
filtered through the grimy truck window,
shining on her hair and bouncing down
over her arm. He could make out just a
hint of jaw and mouth, and the dark
shadows hiding her amazing blue eyes.
Raw guilt had him forcing his
attention away. “Was your grandfather
involved in causing the Change?” he
asked.
“He never told me he was, but it
seems obvious, doesn’t it?” There was
no sarcasm in her voice. Just sadness.
“He wasn’t a happy man. Never a hint of
warmth or affection. He was like a
shriveled bud of a person, a shell. And
when he died . . .”
Dantès
groaned
between
them,
clearly bored by all the talk, and Wyatt
patted him on the scruff. His hand
brushed another hand, smaller and
cooler, doing the same thing and he
practically jerked his own away.
His mouth was dry and he curled his
fingers deep into the warm ruff of fur.
Remy didn’t seem to notice; she
continued to pet Dantès, and Wyatt felt
the rhythm of her movements jolting the
dog against his leg. “Grandfather fought
it. He clearly didn’t want to die. It was
an awful time. He didn’t want to
die
, but
he didn’t want to live either. He said a
lot of things, and I got the impression
he’d done something awful. Something
unforgivable. Something he couldn’t live
with, and something he was terrified of
being judged on. It makes sense that he
was involved with causing the Change.”
“And so he gave you the crystal. Was
it a way to make amends?”
The petting stopped. “I’d like to think
so.”
“Why the hell did he give it to you
and not your parents? You must have
been young.”
“I was fifteen when Grandfather
died. Not so young. And my father—I
don’t know anything about him. He and
my mother weren’t together for long, and
he was gone before I was born. I didn’t
understand it at the time, but I’ve come
to realize that Grandfather kept my
mother and me close and all of us hidden
for years. The same thing I’ve been
doing—moving around a lot, staying out
of sight, even living in the wilderness at
times. He could have been the reason my
father wasn’t in the picture—maybe he
made us move before my mother knew
she was pregnant with me. Or maybe he
forced us to leave because he didn’t
want her to get close to him. Or to
anyone, and betray his secrets. Anyway,
she died when I was eight. And then it
was just the two of us.”
“So he burdened you with
his
mistake and left you alone and
unprotected—and with no guidance at
all.” Wyatt knew he sounded bitter, but
his instinctive dislike of the senior
Remington Truth had evolved into
something more like disgust. “Nice man.
Ruining your life.”
Remy gave a short laugh. “Well, the
sentiment has crossed my mind.”
“You could have thrown the damn
thing in the ocean or buried it or gotten
rid of it some other way. You didn’t
have to carry that burden. Especially
blindly. That makes you a helluva better
person than your grandfather.”
This time her laugh carried a note of
surprise. “I do believe that’s the nicest
thing you’ve ever said to me.” Her voice
had gone low and husky again.
He flattened his lips.
Nice going,
Earp.
Time to change the subject. “How
many times has it glowed like that?”
“Tonight was only the second time.”
Her hackles were back up, her tone
crisp. “So something seems to have
changed just recently.”
Wyatt’s mind was working quickly
now. Back in Envy, his friend Fence had
met up with a woman named Ana and
she knew a lot about the crystals
belonging to the Strangers. She had also
confirmed what they suspected: that the
Strangers were former mortal humans
who’d conspired with the Atlanteans—
yes, the legendary people living in a
sunken city actually did exist; he still
couldn’t quite wrap his mind around that
—to cause the Change.
“I mean, my crystal glowed once or
twice before, over the years, but very
softly and for a short amount of time.
Nothing like this. And not often. So
something’s changed recently,” she said.
“That’s why I’m going to Envy. I heard
Theo talking about Ana. I thought she
might be able to help.”
He
nodded
in
the
darkness.
“Something happened about a week ago.
When Ana came in contact with the
Jarrid stone—it’s a large crystal the
Strangers use, and was stolen from them
by our friend Quent—the stone started to
glow and burn. And so did the crystals
Ana had. She seemed to think they
recognized each other and activated
themselves. Maybe it activated yours at
the same time.”
He sensed her interest sharpening,
and his thought was confirmed when she
began to scratch Dantès with new vigor.
“I wonder if that’s why the zombies have
gotten so . . .”
“Frenzied?” he finished for her.
“Yes. In the last week they seem to have
become more desperate. It’s possible
they sense the presence of your crystal.”
“Yeah. So I feared.”
Silence settled between them until
Remy spoke again. “So now you know
why I want to go to Envy.”
“Except that you were going in the
wrong direction before I got here,” he
informed her.
“Duh. I was doing that on purpose.
To try and lose you. Obviously, it didn’t
work. Much to my dismay.”
“You were going in circles on
purpose?”
“Not in circles,” she said waspishly.
“ B ut
not
in the direction of Envy. I
didn’t want my destination to be
obvious.”
He couldn’t say anything more to that;
she was right. And it had been a clumsy
attempt to trick her into admitting she
was lost. Which, apparently, she wasn’t.
However, she had finally given him
some answers. Chalk one up for the
good guys. But Wyatt didn’t waste any
time feeling complacent about that small
success. His mind was still working.
“Ana told Fence that something called
the Mother crystal disappeared from the
possession of the Atlanteans around the
time of the Change. I don’t suppose your
grandfather ever referred to the crystal
he gave you that way?”
“Not that I remember. I didn’t even
know he had the stone until he gave it to
me. Did Ana say what the Mother crystal
was?”
“According to her, it’s the key to the
Atlanteans’ power,” he replied, trying to
remember exactly how Fence had
described it. The man wasn’t terribly
verbose in his electronic messages,
which was how they communicated
between Envy and Yellow Mountain.
But he guessed he couldn’t complain,
because the two settlements were more
than three days’ journey apart—if one
wasn’t going in circles trying to lose
someone—and there was no other way
to efficiently send messages.
Theo and Lou Waxnicki, two geeky
brothers who’d lived through the
Change, had been secretly building an
underground communication network
that was meant to be the infrastructure
for a resistance against the Strangers
and, now, the Atlanteans. They’d
hoarded
every
working
electronic
device or hardware they could find over
the last half century, utilizing what they
could to build a sort of cobbled-together
Internet and far-reaching network.
“My crystal seems awfully small to
be something so powerful. But . . . you
just used the word ‘key.’ The key to the
Atlanteans’ power. It could be a
coincidence that Grandfather described
it that way, or it might not be.”
“Good point,” he replied, reaching
over to pet Dantès again. Their hands
didn’t clash this time because he kept his
hand closer to the tail. “But when we get
to Envy, you can ask Ana yourself.”
He felt a sudden wave of tension, and
her hand stopped moving. He supposed
he’d be wondering, too, if he could trust
Ana and Fence if he were in her
position. Twenty years of hiding would
make anyone suspicious. Especially if
you didn’t know who or what you were
hi di ng
from
. Remington Truth was a
bastard.
“How did you ever come to name
this guy Dantès?” he asked, and realized
with an ironic grimace that he was
continuing the conversation. Willingly.
“It’s an unusual name.”
“From
The Count of Monte Cristo
,”
she replied. “It was a book I found—
salvaged—once, and I started reading it.
I didn’t realize I only had part of it, even
though it had over eight hundred pages.
So I don’t know how it ends.”
“It’s a very long book.” Wyatt didn’t
see any reason to mention he’d spent a
god-awful amount of time in Iraq with
few entertainment options other than
reading . . . and he’d devoured many of
the classics, including
Monte Cristo
,
The Three Musketeers,
and
Moby Dick
,
as well as a large number of Clive
Cussler and Ken Follett novels. The war
had done one good thing, helping him
acquire a love of reading he’d never had
while in school.
“I always wondered whether Dantès
and Mércèdes got together in the end,”
she said, her voice a little wistful.
“It depends whether you read the
book or see the movie,” he replied.
Her reply was cut off when Dantès
shifted and groaned in his sleep. Then
his legs moved, obviously chasing
another rodent in his dreams. Wyatt
stifled a chuckle of affection and
removed his hand.
“I don’t think he’ll be ready to leave
tomorrow. He was bleeding again
tonight, after he tried to jump through the
window and save you.”
By
the
obvious
pause,
Wyatt
suspected Remy was trying to determine
whether he was poking at her or not. He
didn’t care which conclusion she drew.
“What happened to you in the trailer
today, Wyatt?”
Oh Christ.
If she was looking for a
way to poke back at him, she’d found it.
He couldn’t help it; he shifted his
position against the wall, edging away
from her and Dantès as a variety of
responses ran through his mind.
None of your damn business.
I have no idea what you’re talking
about.
Nothing—I just got tired of looking
through rotting shit.
So he was shocked when the words
tumbled from his mouth: “I found
something that reminded me of my
children.”
Sonofabitch.
He let his head tip back against the
truck again, closed his eyes, and waited
for the barrage: the interrogation, the
pity, the sympathy.
But she didn’t say anything. There
was stillness; she’d stopped petting
Dantès. He could hear her breath, steady
—maybe a little faster than before. If she
was waiting for him to continue, she was
going to have a long wait.
“They’re dead,” he said from behind
closed eyes, once again surprising
himself. Ah hell. Might as well get it
over with. “My wife too.”
Still silence. Maybe she’d fallen
asleep. That would be a gift.