“If we just stay on the huge road we’ve been following so far,” I tried to explain to him, using words and gestures, “we’ll end up in New Orleans.” I had no idea how he could do it, but that’s what I wanted his picture—whatever wordless map he could make us—to mean. That we had to keep going south, and we had to stay on the widest, biggest road. And then at the end, there would be a huge city.
At least we hoped there would be. Large enough or loud enough to catch our attention as we passed, since we wouldn’t understand the road signs. Otherwise, what would be the point of stopping anyway, then? If there really wasn’t anything in New Orleans, it wouldn’t matter if we missed it—any other place would be just as good.
Zachary nodded slowly. He, Ursula, and I took a few steps back from the RV, to take in the big black strokes of paint covering its side while he tried to figure out something to do. It was one thing to draw each of us, like Zachary often did. But how was he going not only to draw a city but also to convey that we were supposed to head for it and in which direction it was?
Zachary suddenly walked toward the RV, one eye closed, as if measuring something against its surface.
“Ursula,” I said, “he knows what to do.”
Ursula looked up from her thoughts to see Zachary touching the aluminum siding gently, examining it. When he pulled his hand away, I saw that there was a streak of color where his fingers had been, even though he had yet to touch his paints.
“Did you see—” I started to ask her.
“Yes,” she said softly. “It’s been happening for a long time.”
Wes is taller, but Victor is bigger. We hoisted Zachary onto his shoulders. Ysabelle stood next to them, holding up his art supplies with her hands so he could reach them.
“You okay to hold him?” Ursula asked.
“Yep,” Victor said. The lion tattoo on his bicep bulged. “He barely weighs anything at all.”
It took Zachary the rest of the afternoon to sketch his plan onto the RV. Tomorrow he’ll paint it. As soon as he finished, he laid down in the center of the floor of the cabin, exhausted, and fell deep into unconsciousness the instant his eyes closed.
I was the opposite. I don’t think I slept at all once it got dark, even though it wasn’t my turn to keep watch. I couldn’t even lay inside the RV. Lucius gave me a surprised, amused look when I climbed out around two A.M. and went over to the place where he was standing watch for his shift, but he didn’t say anything. He stared into the dark, distant trees, scanning for movement, and I looked at the RV. Please let this work, I thought. It was too dark to see what Zachary’s faint marks outlined once the sun went down, but I sat next to Lucius’s spare coat on the grass and stared at the dim shape of the RV anyway until the sky began to brighten again.
In the morning, I tried to puzzle out what Zachary had drawn, but the pencil lines were thin, and the indentations in the aluminum siding distorted everything. Maybe not even everything had been drawn yet. They might just have been guiding lines for his paintbrush.
From around the back of the RV, Ursula, Dhuuxo, and Zachary walked slowly, carrying the cans of paint they’d brought when they left Arlington. I watched them as they approached, feeling strange—almost like I’ve known them as long as I’ve known you, Ory. How long have we been on the road now? How long has it been since I left you? It feels like just yesterday that I walked away from the shelter, but I know that can’t be true. I know I’ve already forgotten some things—the reading proves that. How many days between now and the last time I saw you have I also lost?
“Rough night?” Ursula asked when she saw my expression.
“Can’t remember,” I joked.
Dhuuxo laughed, and even Ursula tried to smile, but then her face was serious again. “This will work,” she said. She set the paint down and wiped her hands. “It has to.”
I nodded, trying to believe her.
After Zachary mixed his paints and handed Ysabelle the right brushes to hold up to him, he turned around from atop Victor’s shoulders and looked at Ursula. His hand hovered in the air, waiting.
“All right, everyone,” she said. “Let’s let him work in peace.”
We all crept around the other side of the RV to wait. Lucius napped in the shade, catching up after his shift as lookout. He still had the rope tether on his ankle—the one that whoever is watching wears so if he forgets and begins to wander off, the tether will hopefully show him that he wants to stay, not go. I settled with my back against a tree, relaxing into the cool, rough bark, and Dhuuxo and Intisaar sat cross-legged in the grass farther away, talking softly to each other. I thought I saw another rose in Dhuuxo’s hands at one point, but when I looked again, nothing was there. Ursula patrolled slowly, surveying the distance for movement.
I heard the scrape of something soft squeezing through leaves and leaned around the trunk of my tree to look. A small, skinny wolf cocked its head and peered at me. Its yellow eyes glinted, almost glowing.
We stared each other down for several seconds, perfectly still. “There are too many of us to attack me,” I finally warned.
“I know,” it said simply.