He looked down and realized he’d nudged the control all the way to the top.
“This is going to be bad,” he said, his tone resigned and oddly intrigued.
The swirls of color spilled out of the device, wrapping him in an icy cocoon.Just before he lost consciousness, he thought he saw a swarm of butterflies…
Chapter14
She pulled her thin jacket more closely around her, then tucked her hands back in the pockets.One hand found—and clutched the letter from Haru.
There were barely any words.The censors tended to be extra heavy-handed with the letters of Japanese-Americans, even those fighting the real enemy.
The land beyond the camp was bleak with sad bits of foliage poking up through the wind-sculpted snow.
She avoided looking at the guard tower—a sad and cold place to be today—or the fence.
When she’d first come here, the contrast with where she’d come from had been a painful lump in her chest.Time had eased it, the differences fading as this become her inescapable reality.If not for Haru and his mother—well, she didn’t know what would have happened to her.
Where in the wide world was Haru?They had radios, so they weren’t completely cut off from the news.He was probably in the European Theater.They didn’t trust their Japanese soldiers in the Pacific Theater of operation.
She’d learned so many things from Haru’s mother, the biggest lesson was how to hide what she felt.
The “inscrutable oriental” she’d heard one guard say.Did this surprise him, she’d wondered?It was bad enough they were being held captive by their own government, were they supposed to show how they felt, too?
Her body was captive here, but her mind, her thoughts were her own.
Her fingers rubbed the paper, the careful words he’d written still clear in her mind.He would give nothing away of his feelings, not when he knew strangers read his words first.
And the only hope she held onto now was the memory of his voice saying, “I will be back for you.”
His gaze had been equally divided between her and his mother.It might not have meant what she thought.
But she needed hope on this cold, bleak day.
She turned toward the mountain, Heart Mountain they called it.How ironic that they’d put their camp here, but Haru had liked looking at the mountain.If wasn’t, he’d told her, the mountain’s fault that men were weak.
Someday he hoped to climb to the top.Then, he’d said, “I’ll know I’m free.”
A chill wind suddenly gusted through, picking up random debris and swirling it in the air.For a minute, she thought she saw a butterfly, but that was crazy.It was winter.
She ducked her head and rode it out, not eager to go back inside.
It subsided and she cautiously lifted her head, then froze in shock.
It wasn’t winter and the camp—had changed so much if it hadn’t been for the mountain, she wouldn’t have known where she was.The guards, the tower, most of the cabins.And the people, they were all gone, too.
She clutched the letter, fearing it would be gone, too, but it was still there.She pulled it out and unfolded it.The words were the same.
The part of her that remembered that day in the attic, knew what had happened.But why now?How?
A small butterfly fluttered past her face and then flitted away across the dry looking ground.
Because they didn’t know where else to go, Ty turned the camper out of town toward where the relocation camp had been.It was a short—but challenging drive as the landscape around them continued to shift and change.At one point, the road was snowy with car tracks running down each side giving the only indication of where he needed to keep the tires.
But the snow gave way to spring, then it was summer again.Ty pulled the camper to the side of the road and shut the engine off.It was high summer and the surroundings had a parched look in preparation for the incoming autumn.Off in the distance was the majestic Heart Mountain—where the center had taken its name.
The mountain itself was something of an anomaly.Millions of years ago, it had resided with like-minded formations—if they could be said to have minds.Events had transpired—geologic events which weren’t his area of expertise—that had caused the mountain to slide over twenty-five miles to its current location.Looking at it now, it was hard to imagine such a thing, but there it was.
Though a few buildings remained where the camp had been, most of the surroundings had been turned into fields that looked ripe for harvest or already fallow.A small dirt road snaked between the fields closest to the highway.Should they drive up it?Should they try to get closer to the camp?
