Out of the Dawn, page 1
OUT OF THE DAWN
A NOVEL
P. C. CAST
This book is dedicated to the other three members of the real Core Four: Teresa Miller, Kim Doner, and Robin Greentree Tilly. Y’all want to meet me at Timberline?
CHAPTER
1
THE DARKNESS WAS unrelenting. Blackness mixed with that damnable green fog blanketed him like a fucking shroud, which shouldn’t have surprised him. He was dead. He was also filled with rage—rage about the way he’d died. Rage at the pain, at the absurdity of it, rage at the fact that the end had come too soon. Too soon! The new world needed him, whether they knew it or not. He belonged to it. He’d been strong and smart—a leader—and this world definitely needed strong, smart leaders. But all of that had been cut short. Fury roiled within him, tugging him away from his shroud of emerald darkness. His first breath burned. The sudden return of pain only fueled his wrath and he clung to the world of the living so tightly that he was able to take another breath. And then another.
It felt as if he was wrapped in the arms of the earth and through that embrace he could feel the strength of the land. He clutched that strength, pulling it from the shadows, gathering it to him—absorbing it, using it, making it his own.
Sensation washed through him. His body wasn’t dead! It was awakening anew, just like the earth. The bombs had shaken the world. The mist had reformed it and the people who inhabited it into something different—something brutal, raw, and real. In this new world the strong would survive and the weak would either submit to them or perish. It’s how it should have always been. He understood that with remarkable clarity.
It delighted him, and more than anything he wanted to be part of this brutal new world.
No, not just part of it. He wanted to lead. He wanted to control. He wanted to possess.
His skin blazed with heat, though it was difficult for him to tell where his skin ended and the earth around him began. Through the embrace of the earth he absorbed power with the focus of a predator tracking its prey. He absorbed cunning with the innate intelligence of a fungus that buries itself deep so that it can more easily spread. Then he absorbed a special, singular kind of knowledge—the understanding of things that lurked in shadow, that fed on darkness and reveled in the underbelly of the world.
He absorbed, observed, learned, and waited.
Through it all he continued to fight his way to consciousness. He fought to live again.
When he finally opened his eyes he could not remember his name—not yet. But he remembered her. The one who had caused his death. He would eternally remember her. She must be made to pay. He would be strong and cunning and smart. She could not possibly stand against him. Not now.
He flexed his arms. Their strength was impressive. He stood, stretched, and realized his body had changed. It was larger, more powerful, and there were other differences as well, differences that made him laugh. His laughter was not a merry sound. It was nails on a chalkboard, a ripping cloth, the death shriek after the strike of a predator.
Slowly, methodically, he began to formulate a plan.
CHAPTER
2
“BELLOTA!”
Mercury came abruptly awake at the sound of her nickname.
“What? I’m here! Don’t go!” She sat up and pushed hair back from her face as she looked around, wide-eyed, heart beating like a bird trapped in a small room. The pit bull that was curled at her feet lifted her head and tilted it in a doggie version of a question. Mercury drew a deep breath, held it, and then let it out slowly. “Sorry, Khaleesi. Did I wake you up?”
The blue pit bull’s tail thumped against Mercury’s sleeping bag.
Mercury leaned forward and stroked the dog’s smooth, warm head. “So, I hate to ask,” she whispered, though she could already see that no one else was in the cozy nook of the cave-like structure in which their little group had made their temporary bedroom. “But did you hear that, too? Did you hear him?”
Khaleesi’s tail continued to thump as she licked Mercury’s hand.
“Oh, good. I don’t have to wake you.”
Mercury turned to see that Imani had entered the cave and was striding purposefully toward her. She stopped just short of Mercury’s sleeping bag, put her hand on the curve of her hip, and shook her head.
“You’ve been sleeping a lot, sis.”
Mercury shrugged. “I’ve never been a morning person.”
“Yeah, that’s what Stella said, but there’s a big difference between regular sleeping and depression sleeping. Which one is this?” Imani made a gesture that took in Mercury’s disheveled bedhead, her sleeping bag, and the dog that had become her shadow.
Mercury opened her mouth to give Imani an auto-answer of I’m fine, just tired, but her friend’s kind gaze had her swallowing the rote response and sighing instead. “I’m not sure.”
“Well, it’s something you should think about. You can drive that truck, right?” Imani said.
“Yeah, I can drive a stick. Why?” She glanced up sharply at Imani. “Has something happened to Stella?”
“No, no, no. Everything is fine. Stella’s just down at the creek with the kids and Karen and Gemma. It’s late enough in the morning that the mist has cleared from the creek, so they’re fishing,” Imani said. “I want to take the truck up into the hills and try to reach Jenny at Timberline. My gut tells me they need to know we found our place and where it is. Stella’s intuition agrees.”
“Oh, yeah, that makes sense.” Mercury reached for her jeans, which were folded beside her sleeping pallet, and began pulling them on. “Wait, did you say the mist had cleared over the creek? Is that a thing now?”
Imani rolled her eyes. “Now? It’s been a thing for days. It usually hangs over the creek until midmorning or so before the air gets hot enough that it blows away.” Under her breath she muttered, “Depression sleeping.” Then she raised her voice and continued. “Anyway, I told Stella I’d get you up and have you drive me into the hills, which is when she mentioned you’re not a morning person.” Imani’s full lips tilted up. “I think she said it as a warning.”
“Probably.” Mercury made herself smile, though it felt strange. Is it okay to smile? Isn’t it too soon? He’s only been gone for three days.
“Well, I told her I’m not scared of you, so she should keep fishing with the kids while you and I trek into the hills. I made you a pbj sandwich and there’s coffee ready. Pee, brush your teeth, and let’s go.” Imani’s gaze went to the dog. “And I added some fish guts to Khaleesi’s kibble.”
Mercury stood and stretched. “What’s the rush? What time is it?”
Imani met her gaze. “The rush is that it’s almost noon.”
Mercury felt a jolt of shock. She’d retreated to her sleeping bag just after dinner, about dusk, which meant she’d slept almost seventeen hours. Shit, I’m definitely depression sleeping. “Oh. Okay. I’ll, um, hurry.”
“Good. I’ll feed your dog. Come on, Khaleesi! Time to eat!” Imani slapped her hand against her thigh, calling the dog, who whined and glanced at Mercury.
“Go on, pretty girl. You’ve gotta be hungry.” Mercury made a shooing motion and Khaleesi padded quickly to Imani, who ruffled her floppy ears and led her out the front of the cave.
Mercury moved a lot slower. Her body felt stiff and sore and her mind was foggy. She poured coffee, black and strong, from the sturdy campfire coffeepot Stella had snagged from the general store in Mitchell.
Mitchell … that was where Ford had been killed.
Mercury had a sudden urge to throw the coffee pot across the cave and shout This wasn’t worth dying for!
She didn’t, though. She sat on one of the water-whitened stumps that had been rolled into the cave from Bridge Creek, a nearby offshoot of the John Day River. She didn’t feel much like eating. Mercury hadn’t felt much like eating since Ford had been killed, but she also felt hollow and weak and definitely not herself, so she chewed the peanut butter and jelly sandwich slowly and washed it down with the scalding coffee. She’d just finished and was sipping her second cup of coffee when Imani returned.
“Enjoy that. It won’t be long before coffee will be as scarce as wine,” said Imani.
Mercury looked into her cup at the black, aromatic liquid. “Huh? We should be able to figure out how to grow coffee here. I mean, if our blood can sprout potatoes and carrots, why not coffee beans?”
“Oh, please. Think about it. Coffee beans are roasted. Roasted seeds don’t grow. Unless we can find some unroasted seeds we’re screwed on the coffee front.”
“Well, shit. Stella’s gonna be pissed when she realizes that,” said Mercury.
Imani’s lips twitched up. “She knows. If you’d been yourself the past few days, I wouldn’t have to tell you that.”
Mercury didn’t know how to respond to Imani, so she put the cup in the bucket of water they’d allocated for dirty dishes and shoved her feet into her cowboy boots. She knew Imani was right, and even though her friend’s tone hadn’t been admonishing, she felt her cheeks heat with shame. Each of them—Imani, Stella, Karen, Gemma, Georgie, Cayden, and Hayden—had all lost people. For most of them, including Mercury, their entire families were either definitely or more than likely dead, but she was the only one of them depression sleeping. I have got to pull myself together. She cleared her throat and gave Imani an apologetic look. “Yeah, you’re right. I haven’t been myself lately. Sorry. All I have to do is brush my teeth and pee and I’ll be ready to go.” She grabbed a bottle of water, her toothbrush and toothpaste, and started to hurry past Imani, but her friend’s hand gripped her arm to stop her.
“It’s okay to be sad,” said Imani.
Mercury bit her lip and nodded jerkily. “I’ll, um, be right back.”
Imani squeezed Mercury’s arm before releasing her. “I’ll be waiting at the truck, ’kay?”
“’Kay.” Mercury left the cave-like slash in the cliff. She blinked against the bright, midday sunlight. She couldn’t see Stella and the rest of their group, but she could hear an occasional excited shout mixed with the distant liquid susurrus of the creek. She made her way around to the far side of the cliff and the area they’d dug for their latrine, and blinked in surprise. It was no longer just a rough, stinky ditch. There was an actual roof over it. The ditch had been expanded with fragrant, feathery pine boughs strapped to the framed outhouse as stall dividers. Someone had taken three of the camping chairs they’d scavenged in Mitchell, cut holes in the canvas seats, and made fairly comfortable side-by-side toilets that actually had some privacy. When had they built that? How did I not know about it?
Mercury brushed her teeth, used the facilities, and then cut through the cave, grabbing a scrunchie to pull back her hair after she put away her toothbrush. Khaleesi waited with Imani at the truck and greeted Mercury as if she hadn’t seen her in days.
“Hey, who’s my good girl? You are. That’s right.” Mercury kissed the pitty on her nose. “You should stay here with the kids. I’ll bet they’ll give you more fish guts.”
“She’s not going to leave you until you’re better,” said Imani in a matter-of-fact voice. “And it’s no problem to take her with us.” She opened the passenger door and told Khaleesi, “Let’s go!”
Khaleesi wagged happily, but didn’t jump into the cab until Mercury got behind the wheel.
Mercury started the truck, ground the stick into first, and before lifting the clutch she turned to Imani. “So, where to?”
“Well, we haven’t had much luck getting the truck up into these hills.” Imani made a gesture that took in their shelter as well as the surrounding butte-like mounds. “These cliffs are too sheer or rugged. We’re going to have a hell of a time carrying the adobe bricks and such up there as we start building.” Imani waved her hand dismissively. “No big deal, though. I’m already working on figuring out a pulley system to fix that, but it definitely won’t help the truck get up there. Last night Gemma was talking about the Painted Hills and how she’d hiked them with her parents several times. She explained that people weren’t allowed to walk on the actual hills because of how porous the clay is, but she described a viewing area where hikers and tourists parked at the start of the designated trails. She said she thought the area was pretty high up because she remembered looking down at a bunch of the hills. So let’s backtrack along that road that brought us here.”
Mercury nodded and released the clutch. “Bear Creek Road. I remember.”
“Yeah, that’s it. Gemma said we should look for a side road that’ll be heading off to the north and then some kind of overlook or trailhead marking. She couldn’t remember the name for sure,” said Imani.
“Okay, sounds good. We’ll find it.”
Mercury drove in silence, bumping along the rough terrain of Bridge Creek—the tributary of the John Day River they’d followed to find their settlement—until she came to the raised area that was the little two-lane road that had brought them into the national park.
“Pull onto the road, but then stop,” said Imani. “We’re being really careful about covering our tracks.”
Mercury nodded and swerved around a big pile of broken limbs and debris, and then climbed the ditch to the road, where she put the truck in neutral and stepped on the parking brake. By that time Imani was already out of the old Chevy and had begun to drag some of the pile of debris over the tracks they’d just made. She glanced up at Mercury.
“Grab some of those juniper branches and brush out the tracks between this pile of stuff and the road. I’ll take care of our tracks from here to that clump of scrub. With our immediate tracks covered no one from the road should have any reason to look beyond here.”
Mercury told Khaleesi to stay in the truck and headed to the pile of debris. It was sunny but only pleasantly warm, though it wasn’t long before she was sweating. When they got back in the truck Mercury wiped her face with her sleeve, put the truck in gear, and took a right to backtrack along the road that had brought them there. “That’s harder than it looks.”
Imani turned in the bench seat to face her. “It’s only hard because you’ve been sleeping for three days.”
Mercury chewed the inside of her cheek as she tried to figure out what the hell she could say to her friend who had lost two small children and her husband, yet she’d continued to function. Mercury blew out a long breath and blurted, “I know. I’m sorry. I feel like an idiot.”
“Why?”
Mercury glanced at Imani, but her friend wasn’t being sarcastic. She was watching her with an open, listening expression. Her brown eyes were filled with compassion, and Mercury had to blink several times to keep tears that welled from spilling over. Khaleesi whined and licked her cheek. Mercury petted the sweet pitty, cleared her throat, and answered Imani honestly. “Because I only knew him for a few days. We weren’t married. We weren’t even lovers. But I feel like part of my heart is missing. I have been depression sleeping. I didn’t even realize y’all had built a three-seater outhouse, or that you’d done all of that.” She pointed her thumb behind them where her friends had so meticulously made sure anyone driving by wouldn’t be drawn into the reserve by their tire tracks. “I let myself check out for three days because I lost a man I hadn’t known much longer, and that’s why I feel like an idiot.”
“Mercury, the depth of love isn’t judged by time. The depth of love shouldn’t be judged at all. It should be felt, celebrated, and when it’s gone, mourned. But the problem with grief is that it’s seductive.” Imani looked out the window, away from Mercury. “When I found out Jasmine and Austin and Curtis were dead I wanted to die too. There are times when I still want to die. Not because I don’t find any joy in life without them. I do. Even though that’s made me feel guilty.”
“It shouldn’t,” Mercury interrupted.
Imani turned in the seat to look at her again. “Rationally I know that. Just like rationally you know that we’re not judging you for grieving Ford. But I still feel guilty.”
“You said you wanted to die too, but not because you don’t find joy in life anymore. If not that, then why do you still sometimes want to die?” Mercury asked the question quietly, as if she was afraid of the answer.
“Because without them I don’t feel whole. I don’t think I ever will. So I understand exactly what you mean when you say that you feel like part of you is missing without Ford,” said Imani.
“But they were your kids. Your babies. And Curtis was your husband. Ford was none of those things to me.” Mercury felt hollow inside, like she hadn’t eaten in weeks and hadn’t laughed in years.
“Love shouldn’t be quantified. You’re not doing anything wrong by mourning Ford. And it’s not pie. Your grief takes nothing away from mine or anyone else’s. But, Mercury, we’re surviving in an apocalypse. You’re our warrior and we need you. So I say this with love and understanding—because this is not about how long you did or didn’t know Ford. This is about timing and circumstance. You’re going to have to figure out a way to compartmentalize your grief so you can move forward. ’Cause three days in an apocalypse passes like dog years.” She ruffled Khaleesi’s ears. “No offense, pretty girl.”
“How do I do that? I’ve never felt like this before.”
Imani lifted her shoulder. “Ultimately, you’ll have to figure out what works for you and your grief. It helps to keep moving, keep busy, and keep talking. Holding all that sadness silently inside is destructive. It might help to know that we’ll all keep Ford’s memory alive. He saved Georgie. We wouldn’t have escaped Madras without him. He was a big part of guiding us here. None of us will ever forget that.”
Mercury wished her chest didn’t feel so tight. Her whole body felt heavy and so damn tired. But it did help to know that her friends weren’t judging her, and that they would remember Ford with her.
