“Sarah and Gary had your mother Milly to take care of. Ben met Sylvia, and they had my father, Peter. They carried on for us. Built all this for us so we might live normal lives, whatever that means. Come on, let me show you something you’ve probably never noticed before.” She led him to the Foundation, where “So we may remember the world that is gone, understand our purpose, and the world that may be again” was chiseled above the cave mouth.
Coconut oil candles lit the Foundation, though they weren’t used often because they were difficult to make. Nightly readings were held in the Womb where the Perpetual Flame drove away all darkness. Hazel led him past the murals that depicted the early days of Respite; a painting of the Oceanic Eco upside-down on the beach next to a list of names, passages of verse written by survivors, and testimonials of Respite’s earliest days. There were artifacts from the lost world, like a cell phone, a battery, a watch, and other items that had no practical use any longer.
When they entered the book chamber, Hazel stopped.
A box made of glass, a substance so rare the case before them was the only unbroken example Randy and Hazel had ever seen, contained the nineteen sacred texts. The Lord of the Rings, Robinson Cursoe, Watership Down, Foundation, Divergent, and fourteen others represented the gone world, their culture, and all their race had achieved distilled into this small library. It was how they taught their children and how they entertained themselves.
“You ever wondered what things would have been like if your dad and my mom just did their duty?” Randy said.
“Being a keeper of the flame is a great responsibility, at least it used to be,” Hazel said.
“Why do you talk like that?”
“Because I can’t forget what’s changed. Do you believe your mother or my father gave a shit when they sailed off to Neverland? You think they cared about what we thought? Are they searching for a better life for us? Or for themselves? Look,” Hazel said.
Behind the glass box holding the books, a mural depicting a tiny green island sticking from a churning sea covered the wall. Dark clouds covered the sky, and black lines of rain fell. Hazel said, “I remembered it a few months ago when I was cleaning.”
She pointed at the drawing of a small enclosed boat sailing toward the mural’s expansive horizon. The boat rode the face of a wave, half hidden in its curl.
“I remember,” Randy said. “Things were good for a time, weren’t they?”
“Then our parents went and mucked everything up,” Hazel said.
Chapter Twenty-five
Year 2075 - Alabama
The sound of rushing water filled the woods and dappled sunlight pierced the dense tree canopy. Thick honey locust trees with large black spikes all along their limbs and trunks made cutting through the forest treacherous. Milly had never seen anything like it. It looked as though huge black sea urchins grew from every bough and trunk. Small oval leaves fanned off thin branches and swayed in the gentle breeze. The deer trail they followed turned steeply downward as the land fell away to a river.
Milly and company followed the remnants of interstate sixty-five north toward Talladega and Mount Cheaha. It was slow going, and it took over a month to escape the thick vegetation and swamp infested lowlands of Mississippi and enter the tangled, subtropical forests of Alabama. Many of the old bridges were impassable, and the company was forced to travel miles off their path. Axe’s map was significantly better than the one they had prior, and it helped them find new crossing points and stay clear of the remnants of towns and cities.
It was hot, the air thick with humidity, and perspiration soaked Milly through. Even though they’d escaped weeks ago the effects of her captivity still wore on her. Her ribs had mostly healed, but her nose was infected. Tester flayed open the wound and cut off some infected skin, which left Milly with a small chunk of flesh missing from her left nostril. Her arm still hung in a sling, but in a week it would be fully healed. Tester and Tye’s military training saved her again.
“Oy,” Tye yelled from on point. Pepper and Helga were with him. Turnip trailed behind watching their backs and wouldn’t be seen again until they made camp.
Tye stood before a giant rendition of the turtle painted on a crumbling retaining wall. Weeds and patches of dirt pocked the escarpment except where the turtle was drawn, its neck outstretched and pointing northeast.
“Pointing right at the mountain I’d wager,” Tester said.
Signs of the turtle appeared regularly; etched into crumbled road, painted on dilapidated structures and metal utility poles, and carved into tree trunks. “Why are the symbols leading us to the guidestone? What of the path of understanding?” Robin said.
“Knowing the location of the guidestone is a trivial piece of information. How to use it and when, now that’s why you walk the path,” Tester said.
“Or you could do what you did. Use other people’s hard work,” Milly said.
“You didn’t seem to have a problem cutting corners and using the information,” Ingo said.
She didn’t know what that meant, but she knew it couldn’t be good. “I didn’t cut anything.”
“No,” Tye said. “It means when you take a shortcut.”
“Did we seek you out?” Milly said. She stepped in front of Tester and squared off.
He laughed and pushed past her.
Larry banked over the trees, his shrill cry drawing everyone’s gaze upward. Pepper barked, and the white crow cut through the forest like an arrow and crash-landed at Milly’s feet. The one-eyed bird shook off dirt and cawed.
“Take cover,” Tye said. The party scattered off of the path and
