To the Land of the Rising Sun, Part 1

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Taking Leave

The asphalt had long since been ground to dust.  The rust of the steel mesh stained the gravel a pale red, and mile markers worn down to crooked spindles, cracked through with weeds and age.  It had taken years to clean off all the cars, many resting on rims or chassis.  It had been worth it.

Noah Constance wiped his face with handkerchief, looking over the team of ten oxen pulling the semi flatbed trailer.  A kevlar blanket was draped over each of them, thick enough to stop a single shot, but not much else.  He glanced at his daughter, her rifle slung across her back.  One shot’s warning would do.

The sun was about two-thirds through its cycle.  The cool of the day approached with a sluggish nonchalance.  They might make the White House before nightfall.  The House sent out the occasional patrol, but they didn’t have the bullets to do it frequently.  Noah had spoken to the San Franciscans, but they had their own troubles with munitions.  They sent what could be spared.

The ocean waste spread out to the west, with its small settlements and sprawling kelp farms.  He wondered what it would have looked like when there had still been water there.

“A word Noah?”

He nodded at his daughter, and she moved away.  “What is it Hollis?”

The big man wiped his hands on his sleeve, something he often did when talking to Noah.  It was difficult to tell if it improved the cleanliness of his hands or his shirt.  “Are you sure about letting her go?”

Noah’s eyes went back to his daughter.  “She’s grown, Hollis.”

Hollis shrugged, “My dogs are grown.  Don’t mean I let them bite me if the notion strikes.”

“I’ll let you explain it to her, then.”

Hollis paled, “I didn’t mean no disrespect, sir.”

“I understood what you meant.  But Dean’s still young.  Liable to the violent humours.  There’s no telling what she’d do if she heard you comparing her to a dog.”

“You won’t tell –ˮ

“Course not.  But finish what you were saying.”

“Well,” Hollis seemed less sure of himself, “She’s your daughter, is all.  She has weapons that would do us good to keep.  Weapons you’re not likely to take.”

Noah turned a frown at the man.  “She earned them, Hollis.  Makes them hers.  We’re not a bunch of outlaws that just takes what we want.”

“You’re also liable to give her more supplies than we can spare, Mr. Constance.”  Hollis kept his eyes on the ground, “This outfit’s a good one, and we all love Dean.  I don’t mean no disrespect -ˮ

“Spit it out, man.”

“The men just need some reassurance that she’s not getting no special preference.”

“Hollis, have you ever known me to have favorites?”

“No sir.”

“I’m not going to start now.  Dean bought extra supplies before we left Sunnydale.  From her own wages, Hollis.  She didn’t lend from the community pot, and didn’t ask me for help.”

“That’s right decent of her.”

“I told her we couldn’t spare a horse, and could only give her a day’s ration of water.”

Hollis blinked, “We might want to give her some more water than that, sir.  She might not reach the first settlement on that.”

“We’re taking her to the station as it’s on our way, but that’s no more than I’d do for any of you.  I’ve been runnin’ this trail for thirty years, Hollis.  You know me better than to think I’d endanger us all for just one.”  His face hardened, “I wouldn’t.  Not even for my daughter, Hollis.  Are you satisfied?”

“Yes sir.”

Noah nodded, “Get back to your work, then.”

Hollis walked back to the rear of the caravan, and Noah sighed.  He looked up at the sun, curving its way west across the ocean waste.  He wondered how close his daughter would get before she died.

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