“And when that’s over, what will you do next?”
“Take the money and fix up my school. We need an air-conditioning system and the landlord won’t buy one.”
She must have shown her disappointment because Hollis looked annoyed. “Come on, Vicki. Don’t act like a church girl. For the last twenty-four hours you haven’t been that way at all.”
“And what way is that?”
“Always making judgments. Quoting Isaac Jones every chance you get.”
“Yes. I forgot. You don’t believe in anything.”
“I believe in seeing things clearly. And it seems obvious to me that the Tabula have all the money and the power. There’s a good chance they’re going to find Gabriel and Maya. She’s a Harlequin so she won’t surrender…” Hollis shook his head. “I predict she’ll be dead in a couple of weeks.”
“And you’re not going to do anything about it?”
“I’m not an idealist. I left the church a long time ago. Like I said, I’ll finish this job. But I’m not going to fight for a lost cause.”
Vicki took her hand off the door handle and faced him. “What is your training for, Hollis? To make money? Is that all? Shouldn’t you be fighting for something that helps others? The Tabula want to capture and control anyone who could be a Traveler. They want the rest of us to act like little robots, obeying the faces we see on television, hating and fearing people we’ve never met.”
Hollis shrugged his shoulders. “I’m not saying you’re wrong. But that doesn’t change anything.”
“And if a great battle takes place, which side will you be on?”
She grabbed the door handle again, getting ready to go, but Hollis reached out and touched her left hand. With just a little tug, he pulled her toward him, then leaned over and kissed her on the lips. It felt as if light was flowing through both of them, only to be united for a moment. Vicki pulled away and opened the door.
“Do you like me?” he asked. “Admit that you like me.”
“Debt Not Paid, Hollis. Debt Not Paid.”
Vicki hurried down the sidewalk and cut across a neighbor’s lawn to her front door. Don’t stop, she told herself. Don’t look back.
28
Maya studied the map and saw that an interstate highway led straight from Los Angeles to Tucson. If they followed this thick green line they would be there in six or seven hours. A direct route was efficient, but also more dangerous. The Tabula would be looking for them on the main highways. Maya decided to cross the Mojave Desert into southern Nevada, then take local roads through Arizona.
The freeway system was confusing, but Gabriel knew where to go. He rode his motorcycle in front of her like a police escort, gesturing with his right hand to tell her to slow down, change lanes, take this ramp. At first they followed the interstate into Riverside County. About every twenty miles, they’d pass a shopping center with massive warehouse stores. Clustered around the stores were residential communities of identical houses with red tile roofs and bright green lawns.
All these cities had names that appeared on the road signs, but to Maya they were as artificial as the plywood sets on an opera stage. She couldn’t believe that anyone had traveled to these locations in a covered wagon to plow the land and build a schoolhouse. The freeway cities looked willful, deliberate, as if some Tabula corporation had designed the entire community and the citizens had followed the plan: buying homes, getting jobs, having children, and giving them up to the Vast Machine.
When they reached a town called Twentynine Palms, they got off the main highway and turned onto a two-lane asphalt road that led across the Mojave Desert. This was a different America from the freeway communities. At first the landscape was flat and barren, and then they began to pass piles of red rocks-each hill as separate and distinct as the pyramids. There were yucca plants with sword-shaped leaves and Joshua trees with twisted branches that reminded her of upraised arms.
Now that they were off the freeway, Gabriel began to enjoy the journey. He leaned from side to side, making graceful S curves down the middle of the empty road. All of a sudden, he began to go much faster. Maya stepped on the accelerator, trying to keep up, but Gabriel kicked into fifth gear and roared ahead of her. Furious, she watched him grow smaller and smaller until bike and rider disappeared into the horizon.
She began to get worried when Gabriel didn’t return. Had he decided to forget about the Pathfinder and go off alone? Or had something bad happened? Maybe the Tabula had captured him and now they were waiting for her to appear. Ten minutes passed. Twenty minutes. When she was almost frantic, a tiny dot appeared on the road in front of her. It grew larger, and finally Gabriel emerged from the haze. He was going very fast when he blew past her in the opposite direction, smiling and waving his hand. Fool, she thought. Damn fool.
Glancing in the rearview mirror, she watched Gabriel turn around and race to catch up with her. When he passed her again, she honked the horn and flashed the headlights. Gabriel pulled out into the opposite lane and drifted alongside the van as Maya rolled down the window.
“You can’t do that!” she shouted.
Gabriel did something to the motorcycle so that it got even louder. He pointed to his ear and shook his head. Sorry. Can’t hear you.
“Slow down! You’ve got to stay with me!”
He grinned like a mischievous boy, pulled back on the accelerator, and raced away from her. Once again, he headed down the road and was absorbed by the haze. A mirage appeared on a dry lake bed. The false water sparkled and flowed beneath the white sun.
WHEN THEY REACHED the town of Saltus, Gabriel stopped at a combination general store and restaurant that was designed to look like a pioneer’s log cabin. He filled up his motorcycle’s fuel tank and went into the building.
Maya pumped some gasoline into the van, paid the old man running the general store, and passed through an open doorway into the restaurant. The room was decorated with farm tools and wagon-wheel light fixtures. The stuffed heads of deer and mountain sheep hung on the walls. It was late in the afternoon and no other customers were there.
She sat in a booth opposite Gabriel and they spoke to a bored waitress wearing a stained apron. The food came quickly. Gabriel wolfed down his hamburger and ordered a second one while Maya picked at her mushroom omelet.
People who crossed over into different realms often became spiritual leaders, but Gabriel Corrigan didn’t show any sign of spirituality. Most of the time he acted like an ordinary young man who liked motorcycles and put too much ketchup on his food. He was just another citizen-that’s all-and yet Maya felt uncomfortable being around him. The men she had known in London loved the sound of their own voice. They listened to you with one ear while they waited for their turn to speak. Gabriel was different. He watched her carefully, focused on what she was saying, and seemed to respond to her different moods.
“Is your name really Maya?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“So what’s your last name?”
“I don’t have one.”
“Everyone has a last name,” Gabriel said. “Unless you’re a rock star or a king or something like that.”
“In London, I called myself Judith Strand. I entered this country with a passport that said I’m a German citizen named Siegrid Kohler. I’m carrying backup passports from three different countries. But ‘Maya’ is my Harlequin name.”
“What does that mean?”
“Harlequins pick one special name when we’re twelve or thirteen years old. There’s no ritual to follow. You simply decide on a name and tell your family. Names don’t always have an obvious meaning. The French Harlequin who calls himself ‘Linden’ is named after a tree with a heart-shaped leaf. A very fierce Harlequin from Ireland calls herself Mother Blessing.”