Journey Through the Mirrors (2 page)

“Daddy!” she called, but he didn’t seem to hear her. “Daddy!
Daddy!
”

“Over here, Mel,” a female voice said. “I found him.”

Cassandra looked to her left and saw her mother kneeling next to the dead body of Cassandra’s younger brother, Tony. A bloody sheet had been pulled back from his face. Cassandra’s father walked over and knelt down next to his wife, his face overcome with grief.

“We need to find Cass,” Cassandra’s mother said. “We need to find her before it’s too late.”

Suddenly, Cassandra saw four members of the Beariman clan approaching her parents from behind, their knives out and readied. “Mom! Dad!” Cassandra screamed, but she couldn’t move. She screamed again, this time loudly enough to wake from her nightmare. She sat upright, gasping for air. She covered her face with her hands, wishing she were back in her old life, with her parents, her brother, and her friends. She didn’t know how much longer she could stand to live in this brutal new world.

She got up and opened a waterproof box containing her few possessions. She took out a voice recorder she had found in an abandoned electronics store in her hometown of Vickery Meadow, a suburb of Little Rock, and a stash of AA batteries, which she kept hidden from the others—they were a valuable commodity these days. Every evening,
Cassandra recorded what had happened that day; it was the closest thing she had to a journal.

I know RJ saved my life today, and I’m grateful. But even after everything I’ve witnessed, it was still horrible to see the blood pouring out of that man, to see him collapse gurgling on the ground. I’ve never seen eyes as cold as RJ’s when he said that thing about sins and heaven’s gates before killing the man. There was no remorse in them, no sorrow. I hope I never see those eyes again.

What is happening to us? We have to get back to civilization. I only hope I can convince the others tonight that it’s time for us to move to a city. We’re running out of time.

Cassandra turned off her recorder, and her thoughts returned to her parents and brother. She hadn’t seen them in close to three years. She didn’t know if they were dead or alive. As in her dream, they could still be looking for her, still trying to make their way back from New York, where they had been when the solar storm started, changing the world forever. Cassandra knew part of the reason she was so anxious to get to a city was that she believed she stood a better chance of finding them if she did.

She heard the familiar sound of fiddle music. It never failed to raise her spirits. Hank, the fiddler, was a white-haired, apple-cheeked man in his eighties who had been a famous bluegrass musician before the Great Disruption. Every evening, he played a lively little tune to let people know when supper was ready. Cassandra grabbed her wooden bowl and silver spoon and left her tent. She was joined immediately by RJ, who always seemed to be waiting by her tent to escort her to supper. He had changed his shirt and was wearing a bright red bandana on his head. The sun was setting, and a welcome breeze was chasing away the heat of the day.

As Cassandra and RJ waited in the food line, he looked annoyed. “This line gets longer every week.”

“People all over are hungry,” Cassandra said.

“Yeah, well, we can’t take care of everyone. We need to start turning them away.”

“Turning them away? To what? Death? We’re all in this together. Why, I don’t know, but we are.”

“It’s either us or them,” RJ said.

Cassandra did not reply. She knew that there was some truth to what RJ was saying. Each week, more and more Forgotten Ones joined their clan, known as the Osagy, named after the original Indian tribe that inhabited the Ozark forest. Unlike the Beariman clan, the Osagy never turned anyone away. But each additional person meant more strain on their already limited resources. Pretty soon the system was going to break, and people would begin to starve.

Cassandra put on a smile as she accepted her paltry meal. It was a broth made from root vegetables spiced with seasonings pillaged from abandoned supermarkets. The mood at the encampment was grim. It had been that way for some time. This was the seventh day without anything substantial to eat, and there was little hope for more anytime soon.

Cassandra and RJ took their usual seats with the leaders of the clan, four men and four women.

“We need to pick up camp and find another spot,” Allen said.

“Agreed,” said Mary, who was sitting next to him. “After RJ and Cassandra’s Beariman encounter this morning, I’d say that they’re getting too close for comfort.”

This was the opportunity that Cassandra was hoping for. “Where will we go?” she asked.

“South,” a man at the table answered. “Follow the animals. They are moving south, and so should we.”

“What about going west to Dallas or north to St. Louis or Chicago?” Cassandra suggested. “Maybe it’s time to see if the government—” She was interrupted by protests from the other people at the table.

“Don’t talk about the government,” a woman named Beth said. “They helped get us into this mess.”

Others at the table nodded their agreement, including RJ. “Maybe we need to take matters into our own hands,” RJ said in a voice that quieted the others. “Maybe the Beariman clan has it right. We’re seeing more and more armed government transports traveling up and down Route Forty. Instead of letting them take over again, let’s stake our claim.”

“We don’t know that they’re taking over,” Cassandra said. “They could simply be transporting supplies to people in need.”

RJ shook his head. “The Bearimans take what they need, is all I’m saying. Maybe we need to do the same.” RJ grabbed the barrel of his shotgun, hinting at what he meant. “It was the sins of the government that put us here. Time for us to collect,” he added with a smile.

No one at the table refuted him.

“I can’t believe any of you are listening to him!” Cassandra said in disbelief. “What about the miracle you all said you wanted? You plan to ambush trucks and kill innocent people while you wait for God’s sign? Tell me again why we shouldn’t have been forgotten!”

Before Cassandra could continue, everyone’s attention turned to a flare rising high in the twilight sky. A moment later, another flare appeared, then another.

“Looks like the Beariman clan is tracking something,” RJ said, intrigued.

“Or someone,” Allen added. “And they’re not far away. The flares look like they’re coming from Route Forty. Alert everyone, just in case we have to deal with the Bearimans tonight.”

Two more flares shot up, this time east of where the others had appeared.

“You’re right, they’re too close,” Cassandra said, rising to her feet. “We need to find out what’s going on. Otherwise, we’ll be sitting like turtles in a tub.” That was a phrase Cassandra’s father used to say to her and her older brother during their vacations. Holidays were more like survival adventures as they explored some of the more exotic places
around the world. Just prior to the Great Disruption, Cassandra and her family had returned from a two-week exploration of jungles surrounding Angkor Wat.

They agreed and rose. RJ gave his shotgun a quick pump.

Cassandra retrieved her rifle and satchel from her tent, then returned to lead a group of twenty men and women into the forest toward the last set of flares. Some people held crossbows, others carried rifles, but most could muster only clubs and long sticks. Night had fallen, but the moon provided enough light for them to see the way.

Suddenly, Cassandra motioned for them to stop.

“What?” RJ asked.

“I hear something. It sounds like a car engine.”

Allen nodded, confirming that he heard it, too, and they continued in the direction from which the sound was coming. Moments later, Cassandra halted the group again. The sound had stopped. They waited silently, looking for more flares. The sound of a car door opening and closing broke the silence. Someone was up ahead, very close. Cassandra led the group forward until she saw a clearing about twenty feet away. They had come to the edge of a campsite. At the center was a circle of large rocks that formed a fire pit, a stack of logs nearby. Cassandra motioned for everyone to be quiet, and they watched from the forest as one man helped another lie down on the ground.

“Who are they?” RJ asked, maneuvering for a better view and stepping on a twig that snapped loudly. Cassandra pressed a finger to her lips.

“Hello!” the man standing in the campsite called out, still just a silhouette in the darkness. “Is anyone here?”

Everyone remained silent, watching. The man threw the beam of his flashlight around the campsite. It landed on a nearby tree trunk. The man drew closer and picked up something that looked like a small bag.
What did he find?
Cassandra wondered.
How did this man know about this campsite? And why haven’t we come across it before?

The man returned to the fire pit, sat down on a rock close to where he’d set the other man, took something out of the bag he’d found, and used his flashlight to inspect it.

RJ tried again to get a better view, this time setting loose a stone that bounced along the ground. The man heard the sound and reached for something next to him. In a moment, he was pointing a small gun in their direction.

Cassandra grabbed RJ by the arm, imploring him to be still. She took the flare gun along with the two cartridges she had found that morning from her satchel and handed them to Beth, who stood close by. “I want you to make your way to Route Forty and walk west for five minutes or so. Then stop and fire one flare; wait thirty seconds, and then fire another. We need to throw the Beariman clan off this trail.” Beth left, taking two other members of their group with her.

Cassandra turned back to the man at the campsite. He had lowered his gun and returned his attention to what he was holding in his hand. Cassandra still could not make out what it was, her view further compromised by the sudden emergence of a brilliant blue light emitted by whatever the man was holding. Soon the glow of the blue light encompassed the entire campsite.
Who is this man?
Cassandra asked herself, awestruck.
And what strange magic does he possess?

RJ readied his gun, but both Cassandra and Allen grabbed the barrel and pushed it toward the ground. They dared not disturb what was happening at the campsite. The light seemed to be coming from a kind of supernatural ball floating in front of the man’s face. Incredibly, after a moment, the man also began to float, rising off the ground and drifting around the campsite. Cassandra gazed on in disbelief. In a fleeting moment, she realized that the blue was somehow warm and comforting. The light intensified almost to the point of being blinding before fading. When the man returned to the ground and the blue light disappeared, Cassandra could not hold the group back any longer. Almost hypnotized, the Forgotten Ones walked out of the woods into the campsite. The man grabbed his gun and thrust it out in defense.
Cassandra saw a red flare shoot into the sky, then another. Beth had successfully fired the decoy flares, or so she hoped.

“Go away! I don’t have anything you want!” the man yelled as he waved his gun at them.

Whoever this man was, Cassandra could tell that he was scared. With her rifle slung over her shoulder, she pushed her way to the front of the crowd. She saw that he was younger than she’d first thought, perhaps even her age. She walked slowly, not sure what she was dealing with. Noticing a book of matches lying on a large stone, she picked it up.

“Nice campsite,” she said, in a tone she hoped would hide her own fear. The young man remained silent. Cassandra struck a match and threw it into the fire pit, where logs and kindling had been meticulously arranged. “I’m surprised we didn’t come across it before.”

The campfire roared to life, illuminating the site. Now that she could see him better, Cassandra was sure that he was her age. Just over six feet tall, he had short brown hair and matching brown eyes. And fear was clearly evident on his face.

“This isn’t my campsite,” the young man said. “I thought it was yours. I don’t have anything you want.”

“I heard you the first time,” Cassandra said, as she walked around him. He was holding the gun in his right hand and something else in his left. “Are you a magician?” she asked, as she took what he was holding in his left hand. It turned out to be a book.

“Me? No,” he replied. “I don’t know what that blue orb was. I just opened that book, and all of a sudden, I was floating around.”

Cassandra looked at the cover. There was only a title and a symbol, both embossed in gold leaf:

The Chronicles of Satraya

She opened the book and began to read the first page.

“You can read?” the young man asked, sounding surprised. Cassandra looked up at him, annoyed by his assumption. “Sorry. I’ve just heard some things about you people.”

“Us people?” she retorted. “Not all of us are what you think we are. If we were, you and your friend wouldn’t be alive.” She looked over at the man who lay asleep or unconscious on the ground.