Page 22 of Up in Smoke

“You could swoon to amuse me, because we should be through this after about fifteen hours unless that storm decides to be a dick.”

“Those clouds are worrisome.” Sandro stretched, and his back protested with a creak and a few pops. “I have a few regrets right now.”

“Still worn out?” We’d both passed Ryleigh’s test for being able to go through the boundary, which involved an obscene amount of food without taking an unexpected nap, but I still battled some lethargy.

“Piano benches are shit for back support. I actually use a proper chair at home. One that makes my back happy when I’m done playing the piano.” Sandro breathed in deep. “Even the air smells different on this side of the line. Crisper. Fresher. A hint of rain but not a humid swamp like New Orleans.”

“If it wasn’t for the chaos, I’d like the boundary. Let’s just hope we dodge the whole swirling mists portion of our jaunt through.” I pointed down the broken highway leading in the general direction of Tulsa. “The safest route to Tulsa is the longer way, although we’ll have to deal with the danger zone for a hefty chunk of the way.”

“Where the choirs made sure nobody can get things through to Tulsa?” Sandro guessed.

I shrugged. “Could be. We’ll take Old 82 west until we reach the Paris ruins. From Paris, we’ll head up Old 271 until we reach the Old 75, and once we’re on Old 75, that’s where the trouble is. Some survivors, a lot of twisters, and some scavengers. If we’re unlucky, they’ll want to pick a fight. There aren’t as many cellars along the way as I’d like, either, but I know of a few if you don’t mind a tight squeeze.”

“A tight squeeze beats a swift death any day of the week. Any places to scavenge here?”

“There’s nothing worth scavenging. Sometimes I find a loose horse that used to be somebody’s pet. They do pretty well, really. They’ve got the good sense to run from the bad storms when they form. One followed me halfway to Tulsa once. Wish I could have kept it, but there ain’t no room in Tulsa for a horse—or somebody would’ve eaten the poor thing. Sometimes, you see dogs and cats, too. Same deal. They’d get eaten—or they’re rabid.”

Nodding, Sandro said, “I usually use a poem to scare off the wildlife, but I can’t say I’ve seen any horses.”

We set off down Old 82, and I marveled how some of the ancient highway signs had survived through the years. “Do you know why everyone calls these routes Old this or Old that?”

“Yeah, I do. It’s based on if the road existed before the big storm hit the Alley for the first time. Anything that was built after is new, and the old routes are dubbed the old. That way, people know which routes are probably safer. Is there a newer route in this part?”

I thought about it for a minute, frowning and regarding the sign for Old 82. “I don’t know. If there is, I haven’t been on it. I usually stick to the old routes—lower chance of running into somebody. Only the brave, the crazy, or the particularly stupid take the old routes. I’m brave, crazy, and stupid. You might lose some of that intelligence your parents worked so hard to cultivate if you stick with me.”

“If you think I’m going to leave you while you explore the old routes, you’re crazy. You’re not stupid because you’ve survived. You’re brave, and honestly, that worries me. There’s a very fine line between brave and stupid.”

I chuckled and settled into a leisurely stride, a pace Sandro would be able to keep up with as long as I took care. “Unless your poems can grant you heightened endurance, just snag me by the collar if I pick up the pace. It’s one of the perks of being a hybrid.”

“I’ve seen you take a jog. But yes, I can use a poem for that if needed, although I’d rather avoid it until we’re in the Alley proper.”

Working any magic in the boundary tended to count as dangerous at best, although I could shapeshift with minimal risk to myself. It had been long enough since I’d shifted I held hope it wouldn’t end in a bloody mess, although I’d attempt to do better at limiting my shapeshifting to twice in a day, once to my fox form and back to my human shape.

I couldn’t help anyone if I died being an idiot and pushing the limits.

I’d pushed enough limits in the Alley as it was.

“Smart man,” I complimented, and I kept a close eye on my pace. While I wanted to make good time, exhausting Sandro might leave us in an even more dangerous position later.

Every step of the way, I kept a wary eye on the turbulent clouds.

Thursday, June 4, 2043.

Hooks, Texas.

The Boundary.

The day came and went,and the clouds held their temper until sometime after midnight. The first drops of rain signaled that the wise would find a cellar and hole up until the weather cleared. In the boundary, it could take ten minutes or ten hours. Everything depended on Mother Nature—and if someone wanted to cause even more trouble. The growling clouds warned me we wouldn’t have long before we got to see Mother Nature at her worst.

I held some hope the Voodoo queens would be distracting the choirs out to destroy the Alley, buying us the time needed to make the journey to Tulsa.

“Well, shit,” I muttered, grateful we hadn’t passed through the ghost town of Hooks before Mother Nature had grown tired of our shit. Much like Texarkana, those brave or foolish enough to take Old 82 marked viable cellars with anything they could, passing on their good fortune to those following in their wake. I’d do the same if I stumbled on an unmarked cellar, although there seemed to be plenty of hiding places to choose from. “Looks like that’s as far as we’re getting tonight, Sandro.”

He pointed to something in the darkness. “That cellar looks like it has a pretty solid foundation, and it seems to get a lot of traffic.”

Lightning flashed, and I spotted the worn path through the overgrown grasses. “Let’s find out if anybody’s home.”

If somebody gave me a hard time, I’d pity them by the time I was done. Maybe I didn’t practice my Voodoo witchcraft all that much, but I remembered what I needed to do. Unfortunately for anyone stupid enough to cross me, I had all the motivation I needed in the form of Sandro. My fox watched and waited, readying herself in case somebody tried to take our prize.