The ex-Preachers hiked through the evening and made camp at sunrise. They slept in the flat bed of a semi truck with Terence’s reflective tarp as a tent cover. They rose again at sunset and ate what remained of their pomegranates in silence.
“We should make it to the outskirts of Nogales before early morning if we walk through the dawn.” Terence said after they finished their meal.
They continued on Highway Nineteen, accompanied by the taps of their boots and the thirsty chirps of locusts and crickets. They progressed slowly and methodically through hills of rubble. The rubble eventually gave way to somewhat intact blacktop road.
“If no one contacts us we’ll make camp in the ruins of Nogales,” Terence said.
The morning sun revealed dense thickets of trees on both sides of the Highway Nineteen. The highway slimmed from eight to four lanes. Wind blew through the trees, filling the air with twirling purple flowers and seeds gliding on wings. Lead and Terence stopped and stood in flowers like rain. Lead plucked a spinning seed air out of the air.
“It’s beautiful,” he said.
The delicate wings crumpled in his fingers.
“Jacaranda trees; they grow all over these parts. The seeds float to their homes on fairies wings,” Terence said.
“Is that true?” Lead asked.
Terence looked at Lead incredulously.
“Not all of it.”
The ex-Preachers continued down the road through the shower of seeds and flowers.
The rising sun forced Terence and Lead to hike in the shade of the Jacaranda forest. The ex-Preachers searched for signs of active men and civilization, foregoing their usual daytime sleep. Miles ahead a tower of light stood inexplicable. The men walked towards it, though neither speculated as to its cause or material. On approach the source of light became clear; it was a telephone pole displaced to the center a pasture and coated in shards of reflective mirror. It stood fifteen feet over the men and fired the morning’s light in a thousand directions.
“This has to mean something!” Lead said.
Terence observed in thoughtful silence, as was often his way.
The ground erupted into clouds of dust. The ex-Preachers were suddenly surrounded by men coated in mud and dead grass. Terence and Lead turned back to back, Lead gripped the handle of his knife and Terence pulled his Van Cleef from his knapsack.
“Stay your hand, Preacher,” a strong voice commanded.
Six men stood around the ex-Preachers and light tower as though summoned from the very earth. The leader swung a charged crossbow to his shoulder in a rifle stance; another man leveled a rust-speckled revolver to Lead’s face. The wild men reeked of soil and looked more animal than human. Each was brimming with stone-tipped javelins and belt clubs to augment the threat of homemade or antiquated firearms. The leader was ornamented by a string of human ears around his neck. Each ear held a jeweled earring, which twinkled in the sun to match the light tower.
Terence pointed his gun at the ground.
“We’re no Preachers,” Terence said.
“Who are you, then?” The leader asked.
“My name is Terence Wood, this is Lead. Have you heard of me?”
“Aye,” said the leader, “I know of you, there are people in my city who have spoken your name.”
Terence smiled in relief. He released the hammer of his pistol and slipped it into his knapsack.
“Can you take me to New Pueblo?” Terence asked.
He looked to Lead and remembered his omission.
“I’m sorry. Can you take us to New Pueblo?”
The leader lowered his crossbow. His men lowered their arms.
“It is an honor to meet you and any of your company, Terence Wood,” the leader said.
“Please follow us into the trees, we must talk in cover and we have not much time.”
Terence and Lead looked at each other, the unanswered question hung heavy between them. They followed the wild men into the darkness of the forest, the winged seeds crunched under their feet. Two of the wild men stayed in the pasture to collapse the light tower.
“Can you take us to New Pueblo?” Lead asked.
The party stopped. The leader turned to Lead. He peered through the ex-Preacher with eyes like gun metal.
“No,” the leader said. “You cannot enter New Pueblo.”
Terence and Lead moved to speak but were silenced by the leader’s raised hand.
“We’ve been monitoring you since last night. You were followed here. There are two men on foot, armed and armored, three miles up the highway. A third man keeps their horses further back.”
Terence balled his hands into fists.
“Those men are hunting us, you must give us sanctuary!”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Wood. I understand your concern, but you have brought dangerous men to my house. You will not enter New Pueblo in the eyes of Church agents.”
“What do we do, then!?”
Terence punched the side of his leg.
“What do we do!?”
The leader kept his calm demeanor.
“That’s up to you. You are not coming to New Pueblo with followers. My people will not be endangered. You will not lead trackers to New Pueblo. I’m sorry.”
The leader cut the air with his palm and the wild men silently retreated into the forest. The leader grasped Terence’s shoulder.
“I know you are a good man, Terence Wood. I will accept you and any friend of yours into New Pueblo.”
The leader nodded at Lead.
“But to enter here is to enter clean; you must be free of the world outside. Resolve your problems, or leave forever.”
“I understand,” Terence said.
Terence’s face was a red mask of rage. His eyes were murderous.
“We’ll come back clean,” Terence said.
The leader grasped Terence’s wrist, nodded, and then silently vanished into the forest.
Terence walked back to the Highway Nineteen, to the center of the road. He closed his eyes to the afternoon sun and faced north. Terence stood motionless. He opened his eyes and scanned the distance for movement, for signs of trackers.
“What do we do?” Lead asked.
Terence sat in the road and crossed his legs. He pulled his Van Cleef from the knapsack and removed each of its four bullets. He took to polishing a barrel with the scrap of an old shirt.
“What do we do?” Lead asked again.
“I don’t know, Lead! What are our options!?” Terence’s voice was tired, angry. “What are our options? Walk more? Let our bodies run out of moisture while we eat bugs and drink cactus pulp? Wander into New Mexico and pray we don’t stumble through a radioactive zone? I’m an old man, Lead! How much time do I have?
“I don’t know,” Lead whispered.
“I don’t either, so I’m going to sit here and wait for them. And when they come, I’ll convince them to go away, or let them finish me, or add the sin of more killings to my soul!”
Terence tilted sunlight through the four barrels of his pistol. He reloaded the bullets and clicked the barrels back into place. Lead walked from the tree line to the middle of the road. He sat next to Terence.
“You’re welcome to leave,” Terence said. “If we divide they may be forced to divide as well. Even if they don’t split up, one of us could occupy their group while the other gets a head start, maybe a couple hours.”
Lead smiled for the first time in a long time. He saw the futility of their situation. Once more, he was without real choices.