When his mother and next oldest brother die after becoming afflicted by one of the endless plagues that scour their already ravaged community, their tinderbox fortress, a fresh siege mentality takes hold. The family must work harder, be more vigilant, and keep closer watch. He does not think this will help; in truth, he thinks nothing will help. They are victims of times and events that are overwhelming. They are trapped in their lives like rats in cages. They are dead men walking.
He doesn’t let this thinking dominate him the way he thinks it probably dominates his brothers. He refuses. He is caught up in the magic of his art, and in art there is escape from the realities of life. There is peace and beauty and a sense of satisfaction. He cannot change the world around him, but he can make a stab at changing it in his drawings.
He becomes more and more of an oddity to his family. They are angry with and disappointed in him, and they no longer bother to hide it. They have come to view his behavior as a burden on the family–one that they increasingly see as unnecessary. If he is to be a part of the family, he must change. He must become like them–hardened to the future, focused on survival, willing to put aside childish pursuits in favor of mature commitments.
He is eleven years old.
He tries to live up to their expectations, but it is impossible for him. He can carry out the tasks they give him, can fulfill the obligations he is assigned, but he cannot become what they are.
Father, brothers, aunts, uncles, and cousins, they are all of a piece, and he does not fit.
A few of the younger cousins show interest in his drawings and his vision of things they cannot see. But their elders quickly discourage them and direct their attention elsewhere. They are told not to spend time with him, and are given work that will make certain that they can’t. It is all done subtly and surreptitiously, but he sees what is happening. His isolation grows. His sense of disconnection increases.
One day, he is asked to accompany his father and two of his brothers on a foraging expedition that will take them down out of the foothills in which they reside to a nearby ghost town. It is an expedition that requires several nights away from home. He senses there is something odd in the way his father makes the request, but accepts that he must do as he is told.
When he returns, all of his drawings and art supplies are gone. He searches for them everywhere, but they are nowhere to be found. No one claims to know what has become of them. Several of his brothers suggest he has misplaced them. His father tells him to forget about them and think about more important things.
He is devastated. His art is all he has that he cares about, and now it has been taken away from him.
A week later, he leaves home in the middle of the night. He walks south and west toward the city of Seattle, a place where he knows he can find the supplies he needs. He has never been to Seattle. He has barely been anywhere and does not have experience or skill at finding his way. But he is lucky. Nothing bad happens to him in the five days it takes him to reach his goal. He is hungry and thirsty much of the time, having not thought to take much of anything with him to eat or drink. He reaches the city in one piece and begins his search.
Fortunately, his search puts him in a place where he encounters the Ghosts. He becomes a member of their family and finds a place where he is accepted for who and what he is. His passion for drawing is indulged. His eccentricities are tolerated and even admired. He is given a chance to become the person he knows he is meant to be. He is loved.
But finding you, he tells his best friend over and over again, is even more important than all of this. Finding you is the best thing that ever happened to me.
Fixit STARED OUT across the abandoned campsite, the ground empty of tents, equipment, supplies, and vehicles, cleared of people. The wind was blowing dust in sharp gusts, sweeping across the hills and scooping out the gullies. Overhead, the midday sky was cloudless, and the sun was a blazing white ball in an endless blue sweep.
Chalk would have admired a day like this one, if he had been there.
Fixit kept searching the landscape, thinking that he had overlooked something and might still find it or that he would miss something if he looked away. He already knew it was hopeless, that Chalk wasn’t coming back. But he couldn’t help himself; he still looked. A part of him refused to accept what the rest of him already had. A part of him still hoped.
How had it happened? How had he allowed it to happen?
He blamed himself, of course. He was Chalk’s only real friend, and he knew that the thing hunting them was out there, stealing kids from the camp. He knew that they were supposed to look after each other, and he had resolved to do his part. But somehow he hadn’t. Somehow, Chalk had slipped away when he wasn’t looking, had stepped just out of view when he wasn’t paying attention, and that was all it took. The other Ghosts had told him that Chalk would be back, that he had wandered off before–seemingly forgetting that Fixit was always the one who had wandered off, not Chalk. Or maybe hoping that he would forget the truth of things, and be encouraged.
Didn’t matter. They were gone, following Hawk to their new refuge, wherever that was. All of them save those who had remained behind to defend the bridge against the army coming up from the south. And himself, because he refused to leave his best friend. The others had wanted him to come, but he couldn’t. He had to stay. As long as there was hope for Chalk, he had to wait. Maybe they were right. Maybe Chalk had wandered off and would be back. Maybe he needed Fixit.
Maybe.
He hugged himself against a chill that ran through him at the thought of what he knew was true and couldn’t accept. He felt tears welling up, and he tightened his lips and eyes against them.
Then he heard footsteps behind him. Composing himself quickly, he turned. Logan Tom was there.
“We could use your help at the bridge, Fixit. They’re finishing the wiring, and you know as much about it as any of the adults. More, even, than me. Will you help?”
Fixit shook his head. “I have to …”
“You have to keep an eye out for Chalk,” Logan finished. “I know. But you can do it from there. It will help pass the time if you do something other than just stand around. And it will help us, as well.”
Fixit stared at the other, at his hard face, at the grip he kept on the black staff. Nothing ever bothered him. He was as steady as the rising and setting of the sun. He wished he could be like that.
“All right,” he said quietly. “I’ll help.”
“Fixit,” Logan Tom called after him as he started to walk away. “Don’t give up hope. We still don’t know.”
Fixit nodded, his thoughts dark and angry. Maybe you don’t, he told the other silently, but I do.
He kept walking.
TWENTY-FIVE
SOMETIME DURING THE NIGHT, Catalya disappeared.
She had insisted on staying behind when the remainder of the camp departed with Hawk and Angel, arguing that she could do more good by staying than leaving. When pressed for an explanation, she had shrugged the matter away by telling Logan it was obvious if you thought it through. Hadn’t she saved him once already? What if he needed her to save him again? She was only halfjoking about this, and her determination to remain close to him was unshakable. What was really at work was her fear of losing him again, something she seemed terrified would happen. He had almost died once already and then disappeared for days afterward in search of the Elves and their talismans and been seriously threatened a second time. Apparently, she had decided that enough was enough; she would take her chances sticking close to him rather than seeking safety by leaving.
He had chosen not to press the matter. When Panther’s attempts at talking her out of it failed, including a futile effort at insisting that if she stayed, so would he, he saw the handwriting on the wall. Somethings you had to back away from. She was sufficiently grown that she could make her own choice in the matter. He did not feel that she really belonged back with him or that her staying made him any safer, but if she felt so then it was better to let her have her way.