side a man's face, on the other a silver arch over a river, stretching from one forest to another. A boat lay on the river, but the arch was what caught my eye.
Words were inscribed on the disk:
I didn't understand. I slipped the chain around my neck, letting the disk hang beneath my sweater.
“Liza.”
I looked up at the sound of Samuel's voice.
“Karin has told me where you must go, though she didn't have time to tell me why. I don't like it, but— whatever you require for your journey, I will see that you have it.”
“Why?” I asked before I could stop myself. I was just a stranger here, and yet they'd done so much for me already. “Why did you let me into your town at all?”
“Because that's what people do,” Samuel said, just as Caleb had. But then he added, softer, “Because it's what we forgot to do during the War.” He stroked his daughter's tangled hair. “Because some of us have sworn, on our very lives, that we won't forget again.”
Samuel gave me all I asked for: flint and steel, plastic water bottles, a change of clothes. Bedrolls and warm leather jackets. Several days’ food.
He gave me things I didn't ask for, too, not because I didn't need them, but because I feared to ask too much: long cloaks oiled against the rain. A leather tarp, oiled as well. Cooking pots and extra socks. A hunting bow, so strong and light I knew it came from Before. A small plastic torch, also from Before, that produced a beam of cold white light at the push of a button. Tallow sniffed each item Samuel handed me as I packed. Allie watched us, sulking, from the couch.
“Most of our batteries are long dead,” Samuel said as he showed me how the torch worked. “But a few have held their charge, against all reason.” He thrust the torch into my hand, along with an extra set of batteries. “I've been saving these until there was need. And I'll sleep better knowing you have a reliable light with you.”
“At least tell me where you're going!” Allie said. I realized neither Samuel nor I had told her. I drew Caleb's disk from beneath my sweater and showed her the Arch.
Samuel set down the coil of rope he was handing me, good nylon rope from Before. “The Arch was where the War began. The Arch and the Needle and the Pools. You know that, don't you?”
I shook my head. I hadn't known. “The Arch was at the heart of the city,” Samuel said. “St. Louis, gateway to the west. You sure you have to go there, Liza?”
The dark look on his face sent icy shivers down my spine. I knew about the city, of course, knew that it had fallen much harder than the towns. I forced my voice to stay steady, feigning confidence I didn't feel. “Karin said you know the way.”
Samuel rested his head in his hands. “I know.” He sounded suddenly tired. “I could still give you driving directions, right down to which interstate exit to take.”
“Will you tell me?”
He said nothing.
“My mother's there. I have no choice.”
“If she is there …” Samuel frowned. “She probably didn't survive the journey, Liza. And if somehow she did survive, she wouldn't want you to follow her. She'd want you to stay safe.”
I shook my head. “I can't leave her.” Tallow shoved her head under my hand. I scratched the cat behind the ears. “Please. If there's something I can do for you in turn—”
“All right,” Samuel said, but he kept frowning. “Hang on. I'll show you.”
He left the room. Allie leaped from the couch the moment he was gone. “You can't go, Liza! You can't go somewhere so dangerous that even Dad is scared.” When I gave no reply she shook her head, hair falling into her face. I saw a few clear strands scattered amid the red. “I can forbid you to go. As your healer. Just like I would forbid someone who broke their leg to walk on it.” She drew a gulping breath, voice wavering between anger and tears. “At least let me see your hand. To make sure it's healing right, before you leave.”
I held out my palm. The scars were barely visible now. Allie closed her eyes and ran her fingers over the two pale lines. Rain fell gently against the roof. “No sign of infection. That's good.” She opened her eyes. “But you still haven't told me why you did it. Why you cut yourself like that.”
“I didn't do it on purpose.” I felt for the knife in its sheath. What if I didn't have someone to pull my fingers away from the blade the next time my magic led me to grab it?
Allie caught her breath as my fingers tightened around the hilt. “Don't,” she said.
“I wasn't.” Silently I let my hand drop.
“Promise you
I hadn't meant to hurt myself the first time. I didn't know where my magic would lead or what harm it might do. “I won't do it on purpose,” I said.
Allie irritably brushed her hair out of her face, as if that wasn't good enough for her. “Why do you make everything so hard?” she demanded. “Why did I have to wind up with you, of all the people who could fall under my charge?”
“You healed me well,” I assured her.
“No, I didn't. Because you wouldn't be afraid to promise if I had.”
Samuel returned and spread his map out on the table. I knelt beside him. “We're here,” he said, pointing to Washville. “If you take the main way out of town, it will eventually bring you to what's left of I-Forty-four…” He took an old pencil and began tracing a route east and north. If all went well, that route would take me all the way to the Arch—and to a thick river labeled the Mississippi.
“So far away,” Allie breathed. Not with anger, not with fear, but with envy.
“It would have taken only an hour or so by car,” Samuel said. “On foot—I don't know. Four days, maybe? Five? It depends on the road and the trees and who knows what else.” His frown deepened. “If you were my daughter, I wouldn't let you go.”
“If she were your daughter, she'd never have left home at all,” Allie said morosely.
Samuel refolded the map and handed it to me.
“Thank you,” I said. “I'll bring it back if I can.”
“You'd better!” Allie said. “You're still my charge, you know. Leaving doesn't change that.” She grabbed Tallow from where the cat was trying to nose her way into my pack. Tallow squirmed, but Allie didn't let her go.
The pack was made of strong nylon, like the rope. It bulged with supplies. So did a second pack beside it, for Matthew. I still hoped to leave him safely behind, though. I'd been careful to make sure my own pack held a fair share of everything I needed.
I wedged the map into a pocket of that pack and turned to Samuel. “Thank you. For everything.”
He reached out and drew me into his arms, as if I were as young as Allie. I stiffened, but Samuel didn't let go. “I pray that I'm wrong, child. I pray that you find her.”
I hadn't intended to sleep. I'd intended to lie on the couch until Samuel and Allie went upstairs, then quietly leave before Matthew could follow me. But I must have drifted off, for I woke to Matthew gently shaking my shoulder.
I jerked to my feet. Matthew stood in front of me, fully dressed, his hair pulled neatly back from his face. His breathing was easy, his eyes bright and alert. He favored his left leg a little but otherwise seemed well.
