A child knelt before the fire, back to them. The symbol of the turtle was painted on pews, walls, ceiling, doors, and floor. Everywhere the turtle pointed to the fire. They walked up the center aisle, exchanging glances.
The child had long dark hair and wore a white robe. When she turned, Milly gasped. The girl’s pupils were blue but heavily flecked with silver, her irises the orange-red of fire. The silver sparkled, and Milly shook her head. She had an itch on her brain she couldn’t scratch. The girl watched her, a smile spreading across her face.
“Welcome to the desert of the living,” the little girl said. “My name is Hansa. What’s yours?”
“Tye, and this is Milly. Are you here alone?” Tye’s brown skin glistened with perspiration in the candlelight.
Hansa’s face was tan and free of blemishes. She looked in perfect health, and her robe was clean. “Does the fire not bring you comfort? Certainly you, fire guard, must appreciate it,” Hansa said, her voice lyrical and soft.
Milly smiled at the girl, then looked to Tye who stared at the child with wide eyes. “How do you know I was a fire guard?” Milly said.
“I see clearly what has been so the sins of the past are not redone. The future shifts and bends like the wind,” Hansa said.
“So what’s the present?” Tye asked.
“A storm.”
Yelling and commotion echoed from outside, the guttural grunts of the virals unmistakable.
“Are you alone here?” Milly said.
“No.”
Tye ran to the back of the church so he could see into the yard. “They’re here,” he yelled.
Milly pictured the Uruks coming up the steps into the church, but heard no footfall. Tye closed the large wooden doors. Hansa appeared unconcerned.
“Uruks. Very good. I will call the virals that also,” Hansa said.
“How did you know we call them Uruks?” Milly said.
“They have us surrounded. There’s a hundred of them at least,” Tye said.
Milly drew the Glock. Hansa’s eyes locked on it, and for an instant, Milly imagined the child would take it from her.
The screeching outside grew louder.
“What are we going to do?” Milly said.
“I don’t know,” Tye said.
“Worry not. They won’t bother us here,” Hansa said.
“Are you bezoomny? They’ll break in here and have us for dinner,” Tye said.
“No. They won’t,” the girl said. She was still calm and unconcerned.
“Why is that?” Milly said.
“While I’m here, this is sacred ground.”
That made no sense at all. “Where are your parents?” Milly asked.
The girl looked distressed for the first time. A single tear rolled down her cheek, and she looked away. In that moment Hansa looked like a little girl, lost and afraid. She recovered quickly. “They’re gone.”
“For how long?” Milly said.
“Since the turtle swam to the bottom of the world,” Hansa said.
Tye and Milly said nothing.
“You don’t understand,” Hansa said.
Milly’s brain itched again. It was maddening. She cracked her neck and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to scratch the itch, but the sensation didn’t go away.
“They’ve been gone since The Day,” the child said. Her voice was low and mournful, but her eyes still shone like crystals.
“But The Day was a long time ago. How old are you, Hansa? How long have you been here alone?” Milly said. She knelt before the child and held her hands.
“How long?” Hansa smiled. “It’s all right. You don’t have to worry for me.”
Something thumped against the side of the church.
“How can you be here? How do you keep the Uruks away?” Tye said.
“You will find many things have changed, Tye Rantic,” Hansa said.
“My last name. How?”
“The disease killed almost everyone. Some people hid from it as you did. Those who contracted the sickness but survived were changed. Others became Uruks. Those who didn’t became…”
“Became what?” Tye said.
“Something different. No two of my kind are alike,” Hansa said.
“How do you know this?”
Hansa grabbed Milly’s arm and pulled her close. “It was you who heard the message, but you…”
“How do you know of the message?” Milly said.
“I’ve heard it myself, many times. I am a disciple of the turtle,” Hansa said. Her silver eyes sparkled, and Milly felt like the girl was looking through her, seeing every wrong she’d ever done, adding up her weaknesses and counting her sins. “I see you didn’t tell your people the real message.”
“Real message?” Tye said. He turned and stared at Milly.
Hansa said, “Follow the turtle that swam to the bottom of the water that engulfed the world. Follow he who surfaced with mud covering his protective shell. The mud the creator used to remake the world. Follow the sign of the turtle.”
Chapter Ten
Year 2066, Central Mexico
Tye said nothing. His mind spun like a carousel of emotions; extreme anger flew by, then confusion, and he stopped on concern. Why had Milly lied? What purpose would that serve? The entire journey was based on the information in the message, and now what would they do? He twirled his bolas out of habit, the balls hissing through the air.
Milly stood silent, staring at the floor.
“To anyone who can hear this, you are not alone. We’re rebuilding. Come join the world in New Austin. We have food and supplies. All you need to bring is an honest heart and a will to work. We hope you find us at the end of your journey,” Tye said. “That’s what you said the message was. Why Austin? I mean, now that I think about it, I get why you lied. This crazy turtle shit and all, but why Austin?”
Milly looked up, her eyes glassy and afraid. “I figured it had to be in the old US and as close as possible to Respite. Ms. Kingston lived in Austin, told me all about it. Where it
