A Woman in Motion Tends to Remain in Motion

Fiction - by Scott P Miller

The bottom dropped out of Temulin’s stomach as she stared at the ID card. John Smith / New Britain Security Service. What the hell was an operative of New Britain doing in the Khanate? Those Euro-State bastards were supposed to keep their mischief to their side of the Appalachees.

No matter. Lifting this wallet from the man in the dark suit had been a mistake. Agent Smith would have marked her for sure. He’d find her and take steps to cauterize the wound she’d just become in his plans, whatever they were.

She riffled through the wallet and stuffed all the cash into her pocket, then sweaty-palm fumbled everything else onto the dirty pavement of the alley. She scooped up the loose bits and tossed them into a dumpster.

But there was still a heft to the wallet, so she probed the inner folds, found the hidden place, and pulled out a jewel-like object. The thing was too heavy, too cold, and glowed with a soft white light. Rectangular and thin as the ID card, it was no larger than her thumb.

Light and shadow swirled within, so beautiful. Surely it was worth something, maybe enough for a new truck. Almost formed shapes were almost familiar, almost—

Her braid whipped the air as a rustling toward the alley’s entrance snapped her around. It was just a cat in the trash, a fellow scavenger. She shoved the jewel into her trouser pocket, tossed the wallet into the dumpster, and strode out onto the sidewalk.

The city of Etzanoa was still full of folk loath to give up on last week’s Confederation Day celebration. That made it a ripe hunting ground providing, if not an honorable living, at least one in motion. But now, the crowds seemed more a threat than an opportunity.

Shop windows held too many eyes. Shadows held who-knew-what. Even the music and clatter spilling from tavern doorways seemed threatening. Any other day, she’d join the party, convert some of her ill-gotten gain into good beer. Now though, every side street seemed a trap, every footfall a pursuit.

She caught the afternoon bus for the campsites as it was pulling out and slouched in a seat toward the rear. On the sidewalk, a man in a dark suit stopped to watch it pass, and she turned away, almost regretting her thieving ways. Almost. But she’d lost her last load of trade goods in a deal gone bad and had to make a stake somehow. Besides, stealing from the well-to-do didn’t seem like much of a crime. It was more like a redistribution of wealth.

The bus cleared the city center and stopped at a vast parking lot where several passengers exited. No one boarded, no one was watching. Good, she just might make it out of here.

They passed blocks of sheet metal warehouses, then the great solar array that ringed the center. They made several stops in the upscale campsites where prosperous-looking people got on and off. Immaculate yurts and bright mobile dwellings lined the road alongside the latest model trucks. She’d drive one of those someday.

The wind swooshed by her open window, accompanied by the whomp, whomp of the tires. She stretched and settled more comfortably in her seat before a ratatat of firecrackers jerked her upright. But it was only a continuing celebration of the just-passed holiday.

People in this Land Between the Mountains, this Gayocona, loved their Confederation Day. What would this country be if its Indigenous founders hadn’t attached themselves to the Khanate two hundred years ago? The Euro-States would have continued their incursions across the Appalachee Mountains. They’d be part of New Britain, or New France, or one of the Spanish colonies. The Khanate protected them, had protected them all this time. So, what the hell did Agent Smith think he was doing here?

When the bus turned around at pavement’s end, she continued on foot down the gravel road. The remains of last week’s fireworks littered the ground, and children scoured the gravel for unexploded ordnance. She breathed easier as that target-on-her-back feeling faded. It was gonna be OK. These were her folk in the free campsites with their old pickups, tipis, and tarps stretched from ancient cars. She’d be down the road and away as soon as she got to her camp.

“Hey, lady, you got any matches?” A dirty-faced little boy stood in front of his shyer fellows with a handful of firecrackers.

She produced a pack of matches, then closed her fist around it and smiled. “What have you got to trade?”

The boy looked back at his friends, then cast a side-eye at her. “I’ll give you a firecracker for them.”

“I want two.”

“No way. One.”

“OK, OK, deal.” She handed over the matches and pocketed the firecracker. “Now, don’t blow your fingers off and get your parents all pissed at me.”

The little guy grinned and ran off with his friends.

At her campsite on the outskirts, next to the old man’s patched and faded yurt, her old pickup sagged beside the charging post. Its open bed held all her gear, stowed for travel because you never knew, did you?

“Hey, Temulin, come over here for a minute.” The old man called from his doorway.

She hesitated, hand on her door handle. Khasar was an elder nomad with many years and miles behind him. Weathered and hale, he was the sort of person she would respect even if custom didn’t demand it.

“Hey, Khasar, I’m just heading out. What’s up?”

“Come in for a minute, will you?”

“I really can’t, Khasar. I have to go.”

“No, you don’t. You need to get in here right now.” He looked past her down the road and nodded toward a shiny-new black car parked several camps away. Beside it, a man in a dark suit spoke to a group of children who were shaking their heads.

She rushed past Khasar into the yurt. He shut the door behind her and pointed across the room. “Get behind that partition, Cousin, and keep quiet.”

She took deep, slow breaths behind the wood and paper folding screen, getting a bridle on her racing heart. Drums, bells, and feathers shared the cramped space with her. There was a staff topped with a stuffed bird. What was all this stuff? Did Khasar fancy himself some sort of shaman? She watched him through a hole in the partition as he watched the door from his kitchen table.

She jumped at a rap on the door, but Khasar just sat with his little half-smile. There was another rap, then continuous pounding.

“Hold on. I’m coming, I’m coming.” Khasar scraped his chair back and rose with a stiffness he’d not shown earlier. He shuffled to the door and pulled it open. “Yeah, what can I do for you?”

“I’m looking for a young woman, a thief. She’s stolen something that means a great deal to me. I know how you folk stick together, but I’m not looking to prosecute. I just want it back.” 

Temulin held her breath. Yeah, that was the guy. A tall Euro with a too-precise haircut. And a talented hunter, for sure.

Agent Smith continued, “She’s short and skinny, with dark eyes and long dark hair in a braid. Of Mongolian descent, like yourself. She was dressed in brown trousers and a belted tan tunic. Tall leather boots. Have you seen anyone like that?”

Khasar stood bent backed, his hand still on the doorknob. “That don’t narrow it down much, but no, I ain’t seen anyone today.”

“What about that camp next door? Who’s staying there?”

“Don’t know his name. Some guy passing through, I guess.”

“Are you sure?”

“You some kind of cop? You gonna interrogate me now?”

“Would that help? Damned bunch of thieving vagabonds, the lot of you.” He turned and walked away, muttering. “Fucking drifters.”

Khasar grunted, closed the door on Smith’s back, and shook off the decrepitude. “Come on out, Cousin, we need to talk.”

“Thanks, Khasar. You really handled that guy.”

“Nothing to it. Sit down and have some tea.”

“Thanks, but I need to get going.”

“You need to stay put for a bit. I’ll make some tea.”

Maybe it was best to wait. She perched on the edge of a chair and tapped her fingers while Khasar puttered at the stove. When he finally sat across the table, he stared at her over his tea while she fiddled with her mug.

“Listen, Cousin. That thing you’ve got is dangerous, but you’re gonna have to deal with it,” he said.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Khasar smiled. “Yes, you do, Cousin. Let me see it.”

Could she trust him? He’d gotten Smith off her ass, but anyone in these camps might have done the same. No, she trusted no one but herself, and that only so far.

“What’s all this cousin stuff anyway?”

He pulled a medallion on a chain around his neck from his shirt. Round and about four fingers across, it had several vertical lines of the old script on its face. A paiza—the ancient passport issued by the first Great Khans. And a gold one. More than a passport, it granted its bearer near immunity and considerable authority. These days only direct descendants of the great Chinggis would possess such a thing. Someone like herself, according to family legend. And, apparently, someone like Khasar.

“So, you gonna show me that thing?” he said.

She pulled the jewel from her pocket and placed it on the table, where it glowed like a candle between them. Khasar frowned, touched it with a finger, and jerked his hand back as if burned.

“Listen, Cousin. This thing is more trouble than you can imagine, and I’m not talking about that man tracking you.”

“So, you don’t think I have to worry about him?”

“I didn’t say that. He’d kill to get it back. He’ll kill you just for seeing it, whether he gets it back or not.” He closed his eyes for a moment, then leaned toward her. “Listen, this thing doesn’t belong here. It’s upsetting the balance, gonna push us all into the fire.” He leaned back and smiled. “You’re gonna put it back where it belongs.”

She blinked. “No. No, I’m not. I was gonna try to sell it, but now I’m thinking I don’t want anything to do with it.” She pushed it toward him. “You take it.”

Khasar held up his hands. “I’m not touching that thing. You’re the one who can restore the balance.”

“No. This is crazy. Magic jewels and a quest to restore the balance? You’re just having fun with me, aren’t you?”

“I’m always having fun, but I’m serious about your task. This isn’t just about you, Cousin.”

Mystical-magical bullshit. But she wanted to be shed of the thing now, and if what he’d told her was true, simply tossing it wouldn’t get Smith off her back. Khasar could be full of crap or crazy, but that paiza…

“If I take it back where it belongs, I’ll be shed of Smith?”

“Yes.”

When she’d left home, her aunties had insisted she’d never amount to anything on her own. She’d always had the feeling, though, that her life was meant for something more than the family business. This may be stupid, but it should at least be interesting.

“OK. Where do I go?”

“Don’t know, exactly. East, I think.”

“East.”

“Yep. I think… Listen, the way will become apparent. And there will be helpers. Accept the help.”

“But—"

“Time for you to go.” He pulled the paiza over his head and handed it to her.

“I can’t accept this.”

“You’re entitled to carry it, and it’s not a gift. I expect it back.”

“I—”

“Accept the help.”

She put the chain over her head and dropped the paiza into her tunic. Then she stood and pocketed the jewel.

“Thanks, Khasar. I guess.”

“Come see me when you’re done, Cousin.”

Back outside, behind the wheel of her truck, she pressed the ignition, and…nothing. The damned inverter must have tripped again. She opened the hood and smacked the device with her fist, startling it back to life. As she pulled out of the campsite, Khasar waved from his doorway.

Kids played in the road while their parents cooked dinner. Smoke rose from convivial campfires. Everything seemed normal, just as it had yesterday. But—she touched the paiza through her tunic—she seemed to have left normal behind.

She passed the black car sitting empty on the side of the road. A dozen camps farther on, Agent Smith harassed an old woman sitting by her fire. When she drove by, he turned and looked straight at her.

She floored the accelerator. Tires spun, then caught, and dust plumed behind her. She skidded left onto the pavement of the main road, then right onto the highway heading east. North through the city’s wind farm, then east, north, and east again until she was on a narrow gravel track.

The truck bucked across potholes, threatening to rattle apart. She eased off the accelerator, wiped the sweat from her eyes, and glanced at the dashboard. Now the battery wasn’t charging. She could stop and check the solar panels, but she was no mechanic, and the sun was getting low anyway. And Smith could be anywhere.

She drove past herds of horses and the tipis and yurts of the herders. She’d grown up in camps like these. Endlessly moving the beasts from pasture to pasture, as her family had since they’d left the homeland a hundred years ago. It had been an honorable life in motion, cocooned within her family and not without status. She narrowed her eyes. Fucking horse camps.

By the time she reached Kaw on the Messourit River, the night was half gone, her battery nearly spent. She wound through the tangle of sleeping camps until she found an open spot among other old rust buckets. She parked, leaned back, and closed her eyes, the day’s adrenaline long since burned off. A few hours’ sleep and a charge of the battery here, and she could be away before dawn. Where to, hopefully, would become apparent.

She plugged the charging cable into the port on the truck’s passenger side, climbed into the back, and cleared a space amidst her gear. Then she zipped into her sleeping bag and sat propped against the cab while she picked lint off a chunk of pemmican. As she chewed it into submission, she pulled out the jewel.

Such depths for such a slim object. Indistinct shapes formed and dissolved, almost…. She shook her head and closed her fist around it. Enough for one day, but—What the hell? She put it to her ear, and a murmuring, like water over stones, trickled in. A man’s voice maybe, whispering incomprehensibly.

She lay down and fell asleep with the jewel at her ear. Whispers. Secrets. She dreamed of fire, and a land blasted to dust. Of shrieking sirens that dissolved into a whine.

The whine persisted, then something prodded her shoulder. She cracked her eyes open and pulled her head back to focus on a shaggy black snout.

“Well, good morning, big boy.”

The dog continued whining as she sat up and rubbed her face. His fur was matted and studded with cockleburs as if he’d been living rough for a while.

“Are you lost, boy? Need some help?”

He prodded her shoulder with his snout again and turned toward the road beyond the tailgate. Among the tents and trucks becoming visible in the predawn, a man walked toward them, looking from side to side as if searching for... It was Smith. How the hell had he found her?

She eased over the tailgate and stowed the charging cable. When she opened the door, the dog pushed past and jumped in.

 “No.” She whispered. “You can’t come with me.” She grabbed his leg and tugged, but the dog’s butt was welded to the middle of the bench seat.

Smith stood just beyond the next camp and peered toward them. There was no time for this. She slipped behind the wheel, spun out of the campsite, and drove straight at him, forcing him into a ditch in a spray of gravel.

The truck careened through the waking camps amid shouts and shaking fists, then skittered onto the highway. She crushed the accelerator to the floor and leaned into the steering wheel.

Smith’s car screeched onto the pavement behind her and gained quickly. It was almost on her bumper when her back window exploded in a hail of glass. A second gunshot destroyed the side mirror. She swerved right onto a dirt road, slid into the ditch, then back out and nailed it again.

She’d gained a little space, but Smith was still on her tail. She flinched at another gunshot, then another. The dog crouched on the seat, staring up at her. Glass shards spangled his fur.

Then, out of nowhere, a man stood in the road behind them, arms spread wide. Smith’s car swerved, hit the ditch, and rolled onto its top in the tall grass. The man turned and waved as she sped away, one eye in the rearview. Khasar? Then he was gone.

She slowed to turn left onto a narrower track, then right at the next one. That Khasar was no bullshit.

She zigged and zagged through the labyrinth of dirt roads until she’d lost all sense of where she was among maize fields and cow pastures. Finally, she stopped on a forested stretch and cleaned the glass out of her hair and off the seat. The dog shook himself clean.

It was quiet under the oaks. Nothing stirred but the dog snuffling in the leaf litter and an eagle turning slow circles overhead. She sat on the ground and let the tree-scented air and dappled sunlight soothe the trembling from her hands.

When she’d regained herself, she pulled out the jewel and let it rest in her palm. It seemed to hold the sky in its depths, white clouds scudding past. She should toss the damned thing and drive away fast and far. Cross the Rockies and lose herself in the Greater Khanate. Maybe Smith wouldn’t find her.

Then the jewel crackled, and the dog was beside her in an instant, all hackles. It murmured, mumbled. She heard the word nooke, then Cahokia, then nothing.

Cahokia. The holy city seemed the perfect destination for this ridiculous road trip. But what did nooke mean? Dammit. She had to know what this thing was.

 “Well, no one lives forever, right? Come on, Dog.” She stood and opened the door, and he leapt in. As she settled behind the wheel, he laid his head on her thigh and closed his eyes. He sighed as she stroked his ears. He really was a good dog.

She wound her way toward where she imagined the highway was. The battery still wasn’t charging, and it was only at quarter capacity, despite being plugged in overnight. They’d never make Cahokia without another charge.

It was midday by the time they approached the row of warehouses along the Messourit River that marked the tiny village of Waz. And it wasn’t only the truck that needed charging. She hadn’t eaten since that filthy bit of pemican last night. Who knew how long it had been for the dog?

She turned right onto the village’s single gravel track and passed between squat brick homes. She’d been here many times before, trading with the small-time merchants who moved river freight into the hinterlands.

Behind the general store/diner that constituted the village center, she plugged into the flash-charging station.

“Wait here, Dog. I’ll be right back.”

She walked around front, where a clanking cowbell on the door announced her entry. The shopkeeper looked up from his counter, docked his hair behind an ear, and smiled.

“Howa, Temulin. I wasn’t expecting you back so soon. Not that it isn’t always a treat to see you. What’s to trade today?”

“Hey, Nyka. No trading today. I’m just passing through, and I need some supplies.”

“You gonna buy with cash? Another wonder in a week of wonders.”

She cracked a smile. “Fair enough, but—wait, what wonders?”

“Strangers in town. They’ve set themselves up in one of the warehouses. That’s a wonder on its own, but these strangers are strange. They say they’re from Baltimore, but they don’t sound like New Brits. They come in every day for lunch, glower at the locals, and whisper among themselves. They just ain’t right.

“Interesting, but none of my business. Like I said, I’m just passin’ through, and I’m in kind of a hurry.”

Nyka laughed. “In trouble again?”

“You know me. Anyway, could you get me a slab of jerky and a pound of pemmican? The good stuff this time.”

“Hey, you must have really come into some cash. I’ll get that for you right away.”

“Thanks. And could I get a turkey sandwich and a couple of sausages from the diner?”

“Sure thing. How ‘bout a mug of tea.”

“Yeah, to go, please.”

When Nyka returned with the goods, she paid with Smith’s money and hefted the sack. “Thanks, Nyka. See you next time.”

“Always a pleasure, Temulin. Take care of yourself.”

Around back, a group of children knelt in the dirt behind her truck. The dog sat at attention, like a prince holding court, as the kids fawned over him.

She didn’t have time for this, but “Hey, kids. What’s doing?”

They were all smiles and chatter. One girl turned to her, twin braids swinging. “What’s your dog’s name?”

“He’s not my dog. We’re just traveling together, and I don’t know his name.” She put her sack on the truck seat and turned back toward the kids.

“Where did you find him?”

“I didn’t. He found me.”

That sent them into a group giggling fit. They were all over the dog, petting, praising, and suggesting silly names. He seemed to enjoy the attention, and Temulin smiled down at this little bit of normal.

Then someone rounded the corner of the store. She looked up as a tattered little Euro man froze in his tracks.

“Kas?” he said.

“You kids better scatter,” Temulin said. “Quick, now!” They took off, and she narrowed her eyes at the newcomer, said nothing.

He seemed to have eyes only for the dog. “Kas! Come here, boy.” He knelt and spread his arms, and the dog ran to him, tail thrashing the air. He cradled the dog’s face in his hands. “What are you doing here, boy? How—”

He finally noticed Temulin eyeballing him. “Hey!” He stood beaming, then frowned. “Why are you…wait, you’re the other one, aren’t you?” He stroked the dog’s head. “Good boy, Kas. You found her.”

“What the hell’s going on? Do you know me?” Temulin said.

“No, not really. I…I mistook you for someone else.”

“I gathered that. But what did you mean by the other one?”

“Nothing, I misspoke. But we need to talk somewhere. This place isn’t safe.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you. If you’ve got something to say, spill it.”

“Can we sit in your truck? We shouldn’t be seen here.”

Temulin looked at him, then at Kas. He’d been a good dog, saved her butt back in Kaw. And he obviously knew this guy and seemed to think highly of him.

“OK. In the truck, but keep your hands where I can see them.”

When she opened the door, Kas jumped in and shoved his face into the sack of provisions. She pulled it away, stowed it in the back, and returned with the tea and two sausages. She sat behind the wheel, and the man took the passenger side. Kas sat between them, angling for a sausage.

“Name’s Jack.” He extended his open hand over Kas. Temulin ignored it and gave a sausage to the dog.

“Just say what you’ve got to say.” She tossed the lid of her drink on the floor at his feet and watched him as she sipped the bitter tea.

“You probably noticed that Kas and I are old pals.”

“Is he your dog?”

“No, he belongs to—to a friend.

“Anyway, Kas and I arrived together about a week ago behind a group of men who mean this world no good.”

“What do you mean this world?”

“This is going to be hard to believe, but….”

“Spit it out.”

He nodded, looked out the side window, then through the back, and took a breath. “All right. Kas and I come from what we call a parallel universe. From another world, much like this one.

“Men from that world have come through the Cahokia portal to work with agents of your New Britain. They mean to take control here as they failed to do back home. Here, that means taking this continent from the Khanate and remaking Gayocona into a sedentary society under their rule.

“I think you possess this world’s key. In a way, you are this world’s key. You must get to Cahokia as soon as possible, or your people are lost. Maybe your whole world.”

Temulin shook her head. What bullshit. Magic jewels are one thing, but parallel worlds and portals?

 Kas nosed the greasy paper around that last sausage on the dashboard. She unwrapped it and watched him scarf it down.

“I’ve seen and heard some crazy things in the last couple of days, but…you really expect me to believe this?”

“You do have the key, don’t you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” But she kinda did.

Jack said, “It’s a small, rectangular crystal with an inner light. It…speaks sometimes.”

She stared at him, restraining herself from touching the jewel through her pocket. She opened her mouth to speak, then thought better of it.

“Listen. I know you have no reason to trust me, but I’m here to help. Let me help you,” Jack said.

Well, what the hell. Accept the help. She reached across the cab and shook his hand. “I’m Temulin.”

“I know,” he said.

“Hey, you in truck!” An oddly accented voice called from behind them.

Jack put a restraining hand on Temulin’s shoulder and turned to look. “It’s the men I told you about. Don’t let them see your face.”

He stepped out and closed the door. “You have business with me?”

Temulin watched in the rearview as one of them took a few steps toward the truck. The other two drew pistols from their long coats and maintained position at the corner of the building. They looked Euro, but there was something odd about them, the way they stood. She couldn’t put her finger on it.

“I think you know business. You will come with me,” the closest man said.

Jack turned his back on him as he unplugged the charger from the truck’s port and fiddled with the business end of the cable. Then he leaned into the open passenger side window and whispered, “Go now. Kas knows what to do.” And, with a hand on the dog’s shoulder, “Kas, take care of her.”

The man lunged forward and grabbed Jack’s arm. “You come now.” he snarled.

Jack turned and shoved the charger with its disabled safety into his assailant’s chest and sparked it. The man’s arms flew wide, and he slammed onto the ground.

Smoke rose from his chest as Jack stood over him, still holding the charger. There was a smell of ozone and charred flesh. Then a gunshot.

Jack clutched his side, fell to his knees, and slapped the truck door. “Go!” Another shot and he sprawled in the dirt.

Temulin stomped the accelerator as bullets pelted the back of the truck. She fishtailed onto the road and tore south through town while Kas kept vigil for his friend, his head through the busted-out rear window.

Past the village solar array and out into open country, they banged over washboard and skidded around curves. She turned left at a farmhouse, right at the next crossroad, then left again.

As the wild thumping of her heart subsided, she became aware of the rhythmic thumping from the truck’s rear end and slowed. What now? She’d park this damned decrepit beast and let it die in peace if she had a choice. But she needed it to keep going. Please keep going.

Kas lay beside her, looking miserable. “Poor dog, I liked him too. Jack must have believed all that crap to throw himself away for us like that. Maybe I should believe it too.

It would only be a couple of hour’s drive to Cahokia on the highway, but returning to the highway would be stupid. It seemed like every time she poked her head up, someone tried to take it off. So, she rattled over back roads for the rest of the day, replaying Jack’s story and sacrifice over and over.

When the glare of the setting sun bounced into her eyes, she tilted the rearview mirror up and blinked away the dazzle. Just ahead, their road dead-ended into the Misiziibi River Road. It would be a quick and easy dash to the end of this now.

She turned north onto the two-lane blacktop and accelerated. The thumping from the rear kept pace, but the smooth asphalt was a relief after all the hours of vibrating over gravel. They should make Cahokia in half an hour with this good road under them.

She leaned forward and pushed the old truck a little harder. The thumping jackhammered, and before she could ease off, an explosive crack put an end to it along with forward momentum. She muscled the beast onto a two-track path and glided to a stop in the brush above the river.

She leaned her head on the steering wheel and sighed. After a moment, Kas began to whine. Then he pressed a paw against her shoulder.

“Give me a minute, will ya.”

He yelped and pressed again.

“OK, OK.”

She got out with Kas on her heels and glared at the truck, hands on hips. Then she placed a hand on the hood, closed her eyes for a moment, and gave it a pat.

Cahokia couldn’t be more than twenty kilometers ahead. That would be walk enough, though, so they should get moving. But it had been…how long had it been since she’d eaten?

She retrieved the sack of provisions and sat with Kas on the riverbank. While the dog worked on a chunk of jerky, she wolfed down the stale sandwich.

The great, turbid river surged past in the fading daylight. A barge labored upstream, lights blazing. It would be a fine spot to spend the night if only this damned thing in her pocket hadn’t found her.

She wiped her mouth on her sleeve, then pulled out the jewel. According to Jack, this was some kind of key. According to Jack, she was some kind of key. What the hell did that mean?

A snap of static sent a shock of startle through her, and Kas sat up, head cocked. The jewel—the key—was mumbling again. But the voice was different now. A woman’s, maybe. She thought she heard her name before it went silent.

She stood and shoved it back into her pocket. “Come on, Kas.”

No lights of men disturbed the night, but a million stars lit their way as she and the dog walked up the center of the road. The chill air smelled of trees and grass and river mud and was full of the love songs of crickets. It was good to walk after all those hours in the truck. She could almost forget the horror in Waz, the psychopath chasing her.

Then headlights shone behind them. She hustled Kas off the road and watched the car pass from the brush. It would have been nice to flag a ride, but you never knew, did you?

That brought her back to what passed for reality of late. She had a task, and she had enemies. Life had been so simple just a couple of days ago. A little trading, a little thieving, eat, drink, keep moving. Now, she apparently held the world’s fate in her pocket. She sighed and stepped back onto the road. “Come on, Kas.”

When they’d covered maybe half the distance, she stumbled over nothing again. The day had started much too early and had been a little too eventful. So, she sat beside the road and leaned against a great cottonwood. Kas stretched out beside her.

What the hell was she doing? She’d always chosen her own path, had answered to no one. Now, Khasar and Jack, Smith and the strangers in Waz were driving her. And she had this dog to look after. She scratched his ear and smiled. No, he was looking after her.

A wolf’s lonely voice rose in the west. When his choir-mates joined in, she stood, and Kas pressed against her leg, ears pricked, spellbound. The wavering song plucked an answering vibration within her even as it raised the hair on her arms.

She’d heard that the Euros had killed all the wolves east of the mountains. Maybe that’s how they killed their souls. Over there, everyone was nailed in place, and everything that insisted on being in motion was eliminated. She couldn’t let that happen here.

The song fell apart into scattered yips, then left the night to the crickets.

 “Come on, Kas.”

They walked until, at last, they stood just outside the glow of the lights on the Cahokia bridge. A sliver of moon rose across the river, too worn down to offer much illumination. She could empathize. She scanned the area as Kas sampled the air.

Their road intersected with the highway just ahead, a few meters from the bridge. The edge of the bluff and a steep slope to the river were close beside them. No one was in sight, but Kas locked onto a scent. He rumbled a low growl, and Temulin crouched beside him. She didn’t see anyone but didn’t doubt his judgment. Someone was there.

Then, headlights from a car on the highway revealed a man standing in the shadows. It looked like one of those bastards from Waz.

She coaxed Kas off the blacktop and into the brush above the river. How the hell were they going to get past that guy? And where was his partner? And Smith, was he here too?

She lay flat on the ground beside Kas. She needed to calm down, take one problem at a time. Just get past this guy, worry about the others if and when.

She needed a diversion, but how—wait, did she still have it? She dug into her pockets until she found the firecracker. The fuse was still in place. This might work.

She whispered, “Stay here, Kas.”

Then she crept through the brush toward the man. She’d always been good at this. As a kid, she’d often snuck up on her cousins to startle them. This wasn’t much different, although she’d get more than a tongue-lashing if she screwed up.

She was only a few meters away when the dumbass lit a cigarette, illuminating his face. Yeah, that was one of the bastards who killed Jack. No doubt about it.

She struck a match, shielding the light with her body, and lit the firecracker. The man inclined his head, then looked from side to side as she let the fuse burn almost all the way down. When she tossed it behind him, it exploded before it hit the ground.

The man spun around, pistol in hand, and she threw herself against his back. That tumbled him down the bluff into the river, where he scrabbled at the muddy bank. Then the current swept him away.

“Kas!” The dog bolted past her into the light, and she raced after him across the bridge.

Inside the city, she followed as he loped through the sleeping camps of the just-passin-through pilgrims, then through the camps of the able-to-pay folk. When they reached the cobbled streets of the city center, he sprinted ahead.

She ran behind, struggling to keep him in sight until she finally caught up at the fence surrounding the Great Mound. He was up on his hind legs, bouncing against a locked gate in the chain link under a single security light.

She pulled him down and away from the gate. “Take it easy, Kas.” She managed between breaths. “The whole city can hear you. Is this the place?”

The Great Mound was a ten-story mass of ancient dark, its bulk cutting the starscape. She wasn’t a religious person, but standing here—

“Don’t move, don’t even twitch. I’ve had just about enough of you.” The barrel of Smith’s gun pressed against the back of her head, and Kas turned, snarling.

“Easy, Kas,” she said, with a hand on his back. This guy was good. Irritating but good.

“Damned right, easy. Now, return my property.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 “You drifters are nothing but a bunch of lying thieves. It’s past time to scrub this continent clean and set the world right. Now give me my property, or I’ll blow a hole right through your head.”

“I imagine you’ll do that whether you get what you want or not, Agent Smith.” She turned to face him.

He smiled as he lowered the gun and pressed it against her chest. “Head or heart, same result. Now, give – it – to – me.”

“What’s all this?” A woman’s voice out of the dark behind Smith preceded a marshal walking toward them. “The Mound is closed at night. You’ll have to move along.”

Smith slid the gun into his jacket before turning around. “Thank the gods you’re here, Marshal. This woman has stolen my property, and I could use your assistance.”

The marshal looked him up and down, her hand on her holstered pistol, then turned to Temulin. “What about that, Miss?”

“This man isn’t…. Wait,” Temulin said. “Can I show you something?”

“Carefully.”

She pulled the paiza over her head and handed it to the marshal.

“Khooye. Never seen one of these in person before.” She examined both sides of the pendant, then handed it back. “Sorry for the trouble, ma’am. Do you need some help here?”

Smith reached into his jacket, but the marshal drew her gun first. “I wouldn’t.”

She extracted his pistol, then cuffed his hands behind his back. “What do you need me to do with this guy, ma’am?”

“Lock him up. Or you can shoot him if that’s more convenient.”

“I’ll take care of it.”

“And could you let me through the gate?”

“Sure.” The marshal unlocked it, and Kas bolted through.

“Thanks, Marshal. Be careful with this guy. He’s smarter than he looks.” Temulin walked through the gate and followed the dog uphill.

“Success in whatever you’re up to, ma’am.” the marshal called after her.

At the summit, a flat expanse of white paving stones gleamed like a snow field under the stars and sliver of moon. Kas was a shadow at its center.

Nothing and no one else seemed to be up here, but doubt dragged at Temulin’s steps as she walked toward him. They seemed to be nearing the end of this, and she ought to be rushing toward that. But it hadn’t gone particularly well so far, and you never knew, did you? Anyway, Kas seemed to know what he was doing, so she knelt beside him with a hand on his back.

“What now, Kas?” He glanced at her, then returned his attention to the empty air in front of him.

She pulled out the key. It was brighter now and cold. A nebulous image of a human figure formed and dissolved, then formed again. She put it to her ear and listened to the urgent whispering, understood nothing.

A shiver rippled Kas’ back. He was so intent on nothing at all. But what if…? She reached forward and held the key at the focus of his attention.

The stones seemed to ignite, and she scrambled back. Kas merely cocked his head as the flames blazed and whipped about until they formed a Temulin-tall ring of cold white fire.

Its gravity tugged at her as if it were a vertical pit. Sparks, then eddies of light, swirled within. A shadowy figure coalesced and clarified until, finally, Temulin stared at her twin through the portal.

The woman on the other side smiled, “About time you got here.” Then Kas yipped, and her grin lit her eyes. “Kas! Good to see you, boy. Good job.”

The dog squirmed like a puppy, tail whipping back and forth. Temulin just stared.

The woman stood in a familiar stone-paved space. Smoke drifted across the top of that other Great Mound, and a man’s body lay at her feet. Her hair was tangled, and a fresh-looking scar etched one side of her face. Her odd clothing was in tatters.

“What…?” Temulin said.

“I know, so many questions.” The woman replied.

“Who are you?”

“Ah, good one. Hold onto your britches now because I’m you. More or less.”

“Bullshit.”

“It’s the truth. This portal connects our worlds. I’m Temulin, your counterpart here. You can call me T.”

“You’re trying to tell me that everyone here has a duplicate over there?”

“Oh, hell no. That would only be possible if our timelines had diverged about five minutes ago. But it’s been eight hundred years, so exact counterparts are rare. I’m only aware of two, you and I being one of those. This guy here,” She kicked the body at her feet. “was half the other.”

“Jack told me about the portal and the plot, but he never mentioned you.”

“You’ve seen Jack? Where is he? Is he OK?”

 “No, he’s not. He…” Temulin lowered her eyes, took a deep breath, then looked back up and met T’s gaze. “He died in Waz. He—”

“Dead? How?”

“Getting me out of a jam with some thugs from your side of the portal. I’m so sorry.”

T’s hand went to her chest, and she swayed as if about to fall. Her gaze dropped to the ground. Then she stiffened and looked back up, stony-faced.

“All right, it’s not like either of us expected to get out of this alive. And we already said our goodbyes.” She looked off into the distance for a moment before meeting Temulin’s eyes. “You and I have a job to do. Do you have the key?”

“Yes. Now, what the hell am I supposed to do with the damned thing?” She held it up between thumb and forefinger. “Ever since I lifted it from—”

“I know where you got it.” T held up an identical object. “Same place I got mine.

“Now, listen. Your world is on the brink, and mine is over it. We’ve blown ourselves to hell here, but it doesn’t have to go that way for you.

“An operative of your New Britain was to meet his counterpart here and obtain a nuke from our side of the portal. If he gets it, it’s over the brink for you.”

“I don’t think Agent Smith will be a problem now,” Temulin said. “But what’s this nooke?”

“This thing right here.” T pointed to a large backpack next to the dead guy. “It’s a weapon that levels cities and leaves the land and water poisoned for years. The poison travels with the wind, killing everything. It’s...an insane thing.”

“So, what do you want from me?”

“All you have to do is hand me the key, and I can lock the portal from this side. Without a key over there, it’ll stay locked.”

“Jack told me I was a key. What did he mean by that?”

“Only exact counterparts like you and I can pass a key through the portal. I don’t know why. That’s just how it is.”

“And I’m supposed to trust you just because you’re me? That’s not exactly a stellar reference.”

T smiled. “I know.”

Kas gazed up at her as T waited. Temulin looked down at the key resting in her palm. Well, she sure as hell wasn’t going to give it to Smith.

Kas snapped off a startled bark and stood, the hair along his spine bristling. Cold metal pressed against the back of her head.

“Hand me that key.” Smith pushed her head forward with the gun barrel. “Now.”

How the hell did he keep doing that?

When Temulin didn’t move, Smith reached around and took it from her hand.

She turned to face him, and Smith smirked, the key in his left fist and the gun in her face. “Now, here’s that hole through your head I promised you.”

Kas snarled, and T called out, “Hey, asshole.”

He looked past Temulin to the woman on the other side of the portal. “Another one of you. That’s just great. Look, you can save this one’s life by shoving that pack through the portal right now.”

“You mean this pack here? By this jerk-ass’s corpse?” She pushed the dead man up until he sat slumped, legs stiff in front of him. When she pulled his head back by the hair, Smith’s face went as pale as its mirror image across the portal. His hand wavered, the gun barrel dropped, and Kas sprang.

The dog crashed into Smith’s chest, and he went down, the gun clattering across the pavement. Temulin scooped it up and bashed him with it as he tried to rise. Now, he sprawled still as the stones, blood oozing from his busted head.

“Well done, Sister,” T said. “Now, hand me that key.”

Temulin looked at her other self, then down at Kas, sniffing Smith’s bloody face. She’d just killed a man. It needed doing, but still. She clutched the paiza through her tunic.

Kas turned, apparently satisfied, and jittered at the portal, gathering himself for a leap.

“No, Kas,” T said. “You stay there. This is no place for a dog. No place for anyone anymore. Take care of him, Temulin.”

“Why don’t you come through?”

“Can’t. Someone has to stay here to shut the portal down.”

“But—”

“Hey, no one lives forever, right? Now hand the key through before anything else happens.”

 Temulin nodded. “OK. But give me a hand with this first.” She pried open Smith’s fist and extracted the key, then went through his pockets. That’s the second time I’ve lifted this asshole’s wallet.

She dragged him to the portal and shoved his feet through. Then she pushed, and T pulled until Smith was out of the world. She tossed the gun through after him.

“That’s not gonna cause you any trouble, is it?” Temulin asked.

T snorted. “No one’s gonna notice one more dead guy over here.” Then, she extended her hand, palm up, into the interface. “Now, the key.”

Temulin placed the key in T’s hand. The interface was freezing, and when her fingers brushed T’s palm, images of shattered cities and men and women on fire flared in her mind. She snatched her hand back and cradled it against her chest.

T held both keys now. “Take good care of Kas and tell Khasar I said hi.”

“What?”

“Goodbye, Sister.” T reached forward with the keys, and the portal went dark. Then it was gone.

“Good luck, Sis,” Temulin whispered to the empty air.

The stars were fading in a new day’s first light, and a breeze riffled her clothes. Kas stood beside her as she looked out across the holy city, past the camps, past the cultivated fields.

She stroked the dog’s head. “OK, Kas. We’d best see about getting that truck fixed. Then we’ll go visit Khasar. That old man has got some explaining to do.”