Chapter 3 Cora #3
The pre-cache was where Cruz and I had left it in March.
The Gallup truck stop, except we had moved it to a side road outside of Gallup proper because Gallup had a small bandit cohort the year before and we had not trusted the visibility of the main lot.
The cache was buried in a small storage shed at the back of the side road.
We pulled the trucks up. Cruz unlocked the shed.
Sylvia checked the seals. Drew stood at the perimeter with the bike, scanning the approach in the way that he was now Officially Authorized To Do because I had said it in writing.
The cache held. The fuel cans were untouched. The water was sealed. We loaded what we could carry, left what we could not, restocked the trucks.
We made camp in the lot behind the shed.
Renn took the first watch. Cruz the second.
Sylvia the third. Drew was off-rotation because Sylvia had put five stitches in his wrist eight hours ago and Sylvia had decided he needed six hours of rest, and Sylvia outranked everyone in the convoy on medical questions. Drew had not argued.
I sat with him at the back of the lead truck.
He was on the ground. Knees up. Wrist on his thigh. The carving was in his hand. He had taken it down from the dashboard at sunset and had been turning it over since.
"Cora."
"Yeah."
"Tess wanted you to see something."
"What."
"Look at the carving."
I knelt next to him. The carving was small, palm-sized, a wolf-or-bear shape that Kal had been whittling for Auriel and had not finished. The body was carved. The head was carved. The feet were rough. Kal had not gotten to them. The grain ran along the spine in two parallel dark lines.
I looked at the bottom.
Tess had burned something into it. Tiny. Just a small letter, the way you burned a mark with a hot needle. It was a 7.
A seven.
"Tess told you about the seven."
"Yes."
"When."
"Two days ago. She caught me at the schoolhouse. She said you would not tell me, but she would. She said you stack things in sevens, never sixes. She said this is a seven."
I did not say anything for a long time.
He waited.
"Why did she tell you."
"Because the carving was going on a trip with me. She said you should know there is a seven on the carving in case the carving became important. She said you would understand what it meant when you saw it. She did not tell me what it meant. She said that was yours to tell."
"Did you ask."
"No."
"Drew."
"I didn't ask, Cora. I did not ask because you have not yet said the six out loud to me and I will wait until you do.
Tess gave me the carving with a seven on it because Tess has known you for nine months and Tess knows you avoid the six.
I will know the rest when you tell me. If you tell me.
If you don't, I won't know, and that's fine. "
I looked at the seven.
It was a small mark. Burned. The mark a woman with a kitchen and a few minutes made when she was sending something with someone and wanted the something to carry a message and did not have time for a long message.
Tess had made the mark in two days. She had decided to tell Drew in two days. She had not told me she was going to tell him.
I thought about Tess at the kitchen tent with Auriel on her hip and Kal beside her.
I thought about Tess three years ago, smuggled to Chicago in a crate, the way she had told the story once at the perimeter without flinching.
I thought about Tess in the medical tent the night Auriel was born, holding the baby with the gold eyes and the two heartbeats and saying you're late, Brecca like Brecca had missed a kitchen shift.
Tess did not waste words. Tess had given Drew the carving with a 7 on it because Tess knew what Cora King would not tell a half-Vampyren who was about to drive her to Illinois.
The seven meant: she counts everything. The six is the one she will not count. Be careful.
I sat down next to Drew.
I sat the way Drew sat. Knees up. Hands flat on my thighs. The Polaroid of Deedee was in my chest pocket. The seven was on the carving in his hand.
"Drew."
"Yes."
"There was a six-year-old in the bathroom in Urbana. Her name was Talia. I was the day-staff lead at the creche. I counted heads twice during the Drake raid and missed her. I have not said her name out loud in three years. I have not said the number six out loud since."
He was very still.
"You said it at the council."
"Yes."
"You said it to Loren."
"Yes."
"You did not say her name."
"No."
He nodded. Slowly. The half-Vampyren nod that did not commit to anything.
"Cora."
"Yes."
"I will not ask. Until you tell me her name, I will not ask. The seven is the carving's seven. The six is yours. I will leave them where you have them."
"Okay."
"I will hold the seven."
"Okay."
He set the carving back on his knee. The seven faced up. The grain ran along the spine. The unfinished feet caught the sunset light.
I sat with him until Renn took the first watch.
Then I went to my cot in the back of the lead truck and lay down and looked at the canvas roof and counted the stars I could see through the small triangle gap at the top of the cab.
There were seven.
I closed my eyes.
I did not sleep until well past midnight.
Drew was at the perimeter when I finally slept. Off-rotation. Sylvia had told him six hours and Drew had ignored Sylvia and gone to the perimeter anyway. He did not move from the perimeter all night. He did not eat. He did not drink.
He held the carving.
He held the seven.
He did not say six.