“That’s genius.”
“Why thank you,” Sam said, with a mock bow. “But it wasn’t really my idea. Whoever lived here before, they were an off-gridder. Moved out here before the conflict, survived decades, even had kids. I found an old computer beneath the floorboards. It already had a few hundred books on it, all the classics. I’m just adding to his collection. It’s really quite something. Like a diary of the collapse of man. The internet and media were cut pretty early on, so after a few years it’s mostly conjecture or rumor; he had a ham radio too, where he’d sometimes get messages. That’s probably how they eventually found them.”
He nodded to the blood stains on the wood floor and scratches along the walls.
“We gave them a good burial.”
“It’s amazing,” I said, pursing my lips. “But we don’t have it. The antidote, I mean.”
“But you found what you were looking for?” Jacob asked. “The king’s original home?”
“We found it,” I said, chewing my lip. “But it wasn’t abandoned.” I wasn’t sure how much to share, so I didn’t offer any more information. The others knew about Mrs. Hartmann, though they still didn’t fully comprehend what we’d gone through, it was more like a bad dream, fragmented memories. They hadn’t seen the horrors I had. Even so, I felt bad for just leaving her there.
And there was someone else: I had to tell Damien. I didn’t want word getting back to him from anyone else, that his mother was still alive. And I still didn’t know what to do with the information she’d told me, about the ash. It was too large, too scary. I knew I’d have to tell them eventually, but I didn’t want the word to get out until I’d decided what to do about it. I didn’t trust Sam or Jacob not to do something even more reckless. We needed a real plan.
I needed time to think, time to process. Was it only this morning we’d left Fanno Creek? That I’d learned King Richard’s entire empire was built on a lie – and one far more terrible than what I’d long suspected. We’d been walking all day, my feet were burning.
“Actually,” April said, pulling out the folders I’d given her earlier. “I took a look at those notes you gave me when we were waiting for you. Check this out.
Reversal procedure. There’s a process and a list of ingredients. I’ll need some time to go through it, but it might be something. At least it’s a place to start.”
We found our way down to the bathing area; a cold water pool next to one of the cliffs that edged the compound. The river had been divided with wooden planks into multiple streams of rushing water to stand under. It was freezing, but felt refreshing after our ordeal, and helped clear my head. When I came back, Penelope had already traded her colored beads for a variety of more fitting accessories.
“When in Rome,” she said, tossing me a leather string of squirrel skulls to tie back my hair. I kept most of the haul from the store we’d looted, which was still relatively clean and dry, and found the others. They were sitting closer to the main fire, under a covered structure, stretched out in long folding chairs.
Young girls were painting designs on their bare feet with dark red paste.
“What’s going on here?” I asked.
“Henna and red ochre,” one of the girls said. “Mixed with honey, aloe vera and cooling mint. It helps with the burns.”
“It actually feels pretty good,” Camina said.
I shrugged and sat next to them.
“I can do it,” said a young girl with round cheeks, reaching for an extra brush. She reminded me so much of Loralie it hurt.
“You’ll have to wait until we’re done,” one of the older girls said. “She’s too young. She’ll mess it up.”
“I will not,” she pouted.
“It’s fine,” I said, reaching for her arm and pulling her closer. “I’ll just be sticking them in my boots again later. Everyone has to practice on something. Nobody is perfect the first time.”
The older girls frowned, but didn’t protest this time when the younger girl picked up the brush and sat close to my dirty feet, studying them like an artist with a blank canvas.
She marveled at the sharp patterns on my wrist and palms, and then began covering the bottoms of my feet with the red paste, carefully adding vines and thorns that crept across my toes and ankles.
“Now your hands will