Ah my friend, if you and I could escape this fray and live forever, never a trace of age, immortal, I would never fight on the front lines again or command you in the field where men win fame. But now, as it is, the fates of death await us, thousands poised to strike, and not a man alive can flee them or escape – so in we go for attack! Give our enemy glory or win it for ourselves!
― Homer, The Iliad
Ajax looked up at Xerxes towering over him, his hulking form tense and prepared for violence. Xerxes’ skin coloring shimmered, revealing his agitation, but not yet rage. Surt and Telemachos assumed deferential positions behind and to the side, careful not to suggest even the slightest threat. Ajax remained seated on the ground, looking up, body submissive, but maintaining eye contact, a mix of docility and challenge he knew Xerxes would find disconcerting. Keeping him off balance was the key to survival.
“Caesar is dead,” Ajax whispered.
Xerxes’ markings snapped to combat stripes, the garish display he favored that younger generations of grendels now eschewed for more subtle shadings. He threw his arms out – body tensed and muscles rippling – and roared, curved dagger teeth bared, face contorted. The guards leapt to their weapons on the corner towers, pointing them at the commotion. Ajax braced himself.
Xerxes took a deep breath and slowly lowered his arms. He glared at Ajax.
Telemachos stepped forward. “What of his body? The rites must be observed.”
Xerxes showed no sign of hearing Telemachos, fists opening and clenching as tightly as talons would allow.
Ajax held Xerxes gaze, but spoke to Telemachos. “Abba says we will honor Caesar, but counsels patience.”
“The adikocrats cannot interfere. It is our right,” Telemachos responded.
Xerxes paced in agitation, moving away from Ajax enough that focusing on Telemachos was less risky.
“Not all of the alloioi seek our submission. We must proceed with care,” Ajax cautioned.
Xerxes stalked off to other parts of the compound, and Surt followed at a cautious distance. Ajax concealed a sigh of relief. The guards lost interest. He would seek guidance from Abba once more, now that the present crisis was past and his plans for them remained concealed and intact. But for how long?
Chapter 12
Michelle woke with a start and looked out the window of the car. They were parked on the edge of a vast wheat field, the eastern sky faint pink with burgeoning dawn, the rest of the world darker shades of gray to black. In the distance, long rows of solar panels reflected the soft hues of the horizon. Adam lay curled on the passenger seat, sound asleep. Eyes burning with fatigue, she surveyed the dash, all the indicators dark except for the power bar, flickering softly. Out the windshield, she could see the front end of the car nuzzled up against an induction pole at a charging station along the highway, in the middle of nowhere, the power lines leading away from it the only signs of civilization, other than the endless brown sea of wheat all around. She looked at Adam and decided against booting up to find out where they were.
She rubbed her face and arranged her hair with her fingers, glancing up in the mirror, grimacing at her puffy dark eyes.
I’m turning into an old woman.
She’d never been good at sleeping in the car, and even with the autopilot, her dozing during the night had been fitful.
She reached into the glove box and took out a handful of tissues, then quietly opened the car door and stepped outside, stretching cramped muscles and drinking in the cool clean air. She looked around at a vast expanse of golden wheat, the morning breeze stirring ripples across the rolling hills from one horizon to the other. The odd dawn light, the lonely sighing of the wind and disorienting visual effect created a surreal sensation, as if she floated on an alien sea, their little car a boat carrying them to foreign lands. Rows of windmills waved on the horizon, spectators on the distant shore either bidding farewell or welcoming them.
She looked around and verified that they were utterly alone, then walked to the edge of the parking pad, and relieved herself with brisk efficiency. Life supervising someone who can’t be left alone compelled one to improvise in every aspect of life.
Other than the jiggle bag, what had she forgotten? She pulled out her device and connected to Tink, standing outside in the chill to avoid waking Adam.
“Tink, review Adam checklist.”
“Most items are not relevant as you are not in your apartment preparing for school.”
The correct bowl for his cereal. The right spoon. No noise in the kitchen. The same route to school. Tink was right. She was winging it. All the checklists wouldn’t prepare them for this new life. Yesterday’s adventures were proof.
God forbid any routine was disrupted. Like a rat in a cage, repeatedly shocked for pressing the wrong lever, or a dog beaten into submission, Adam’s rages had conditioned her to near automatic compliance with the myriad details of his daily rituals. Except when they fought, of course. The lack of drama about his comfort item was as welcome as it was baffling.
A shiver sent her back into the car, and she sat in the driver’s seat waiting for the car to finish charging, closing her eyes to scrounge a little more sleep.
The reality was, Michelle was good at it, intuiting what would calm Adam down, or at least she was better than her parents.
The one image that kept coming back to her was the framed picture in the living room of Michelle holding toddler Adam, almost too big to carry, Michelle’s skinny little hip cocked out to support him, her arms encircled around his waist, Adam sucking on his fingers, gazing off-camera, face blank. Michelle grinned into the camera, tan and freckled in her tank top and shorts, the proud older sister playing momma to her little brother. Now she really was the momma.
The car chimed softly, and the display brightened, the charging complete. Michelle touched the start button, then backed away from the charging pole and headed to the highway, ceding control to the autopilot.
“To ensure proximity to the nearest available fuel, we must activate the locator. Proceed?”
Michelle bit her lip. On the one hand, the fastest way to the nearest open station was to allow the car to tap the network and access current information instead of relying on possibly stale downloaded data from before they went offline. On the other, the whole point of her driving dark was to avoid tipping off the competition.
“No, let’s just go. There will be something up ahead. How far to Rexburg?”
“Approximately ninety-two minutes until arrival in Rexburg, Idaho.”
Michelle smiled. They made it. She closed her eyes again and listened to Adam’s soft snore as they merged onto the nearly empty highway. She dozed and thought about the day ahead until the gentle deceleration of the car alerted her to their arrival.
She rubbed her eyes and looked out the window. The eastern sky behind them brightened and other cars were on the road, though the town of Rexburg, Idaho, appeared empty on this cool September morning.
“How far to the McJames School?” Michelle asked.
“8.3 kilometers. Proceed?”
“Yes.”
She knew it wouldn’t be open at this hour, but she was curious to see it anyway. They drove through the silent town to the south side, crossed through an industrial area, a few residential neighborhoods, then pulled up in front of the low building surrounded by fields and a playground. There were two more rectangular buildings that must be the dormitories. The whole layout was obviously a school with parking lots, large open windows decorated with arts and crafts, fenced in playgrounds, and open spaces for children to play. Michelle noted with approval the double gates and other access controls.
They sat in the car, Adam still asleep. Michelle surveyed the new school debating how to kill the time until the school opened, weighing options that maximized the probability of a calm morning.
“Take us back into town. No, wait. Let’s go to a park.”
“A park in town?”
“Yes.”
“There are nine parks in Rexburg, Idaho. Further requirements?”
“Water. Trees.”
“Park selected.” Michelle settled back. After a short drive, they pulled into the parking lot of Nature Park. Michelle took over the steering and drove around the narrow lanes, then pulled into a small parking area at the edge of big pond. She set the brake, and Adam sat up, looking around.
“We’re here, bud. Let’s go look at the water until it’s time for breakfast.” She opened the car door, and the cold air was bracing.
“Whoa, we’re going to need jackets.” She reached into the back and pulled their coats forward. Adam sat impassive, looking out at the pond. She put on her favorite sweatshirt, the thick cotton Notre Dame hoodie, her father’s. It was too big, but perfect for snuggling, and still faintly smelled of him, at least for her. Michelle came around to the passenger door and opened it, then put Adam’s jacket on.
She led him by the hand over to the edge of the pond. The early light glowed golden on the tops of the trees on the other side of the shimmering pond, riffled by the breeze. They stood silently holding hands. Michelle shivered.
“C’mere, bud.”
She pulled Adam over to a nearby tree, and Michelle sat down with her back against it, nestled between two large roots. She pulled Adam down to sit between her legs, facing forward and she put her arms around him, hugging him from behind. He shrugged off his jacket, impervious to the chill as always. Michelle didn’t argue and took his jacket and balled it up to use as a pillow. She leaned back against the tree, and he put his head against her chest, watching the leaves fluttering in the breeze and the twinkling water. She ran her hands through his unruly mop.
“I’ll cut this before you start school. Have to make a good impression.”
They made it. Michelle felt all the tension from the drive leave her body now that they were safely in Rexburg, Idaho. The soft warmth of the thick sweatshirt, the pressure of Adam’s body against her, the breeze, and the lapping of the water conspired to transport her into a deep sleep.
Robert Wack 