All Is Silence - Deserted Lands #1

Chapter 21 - Part II

Lizzie unstrapped Saj and pulled him out. She tried to put him down to walk, but he clung to her. "Me, too, baby."

Zach waved another roll at Spike, "Come on, Spike, more food." Spike followed Zach and the food toward the house.

Lizzie followed Spike inside the house, Zach's "fine" was chaotic. There were people everywhere. And they were all watching her.

Nev introduced her to the ad hoc parents: Reverends Josie and John.

Were they a couple? Lizzie couldn't really tell. They seemed like two sweet, forgiving, churchy types. She nodded and smiled, awkward in the sudden overwhelming volume of people. "Nev, could you take Saj? I've got to use the restroom."

In the bathroom she splashed water on her face and ran her fingers through her hair. "Gotta eat sometime," she muttered and sat on the toilet seat. She took a deep breath. How offended would Nev be if Lizzie took a pass on Thanksgiving dinner? If I was her I'd be very offended.

"Supper's ready," a voice called from the other room.

With regret, Lizzie left the quiet bathroom and walked to the front room. There were two tables, a big one nearly full and a smaller table through an arch into the living room. The children clustered around the smaller one.

Lizzie went to Nev and held out her hands for Saj. "I'll eat with Spike and the kids."

Nev handed over Saj to Lizzie with a quizzical look. "Okay."

The adults were still staring and Lizzie didn't feel like talking about herself.

In spite of her mood, the kids brightened the meal. She asked them their names in between bites. Cristina and Consuela, twins, 12. Joshua, age 9; James, age 6; She could play the painful adult who asks questions. But she couldn't ask her first question, How had all the siblings survived? Genetic immunities maybe.

"I hate yams," Joshua said, pushing them onto his brother's plate.

James screwed up his face. "I don't like them neither."

"You eat 'em or I'll tell mom about you-know-what."

James sank down. Lizzie hadn't taken any yams, so she scooped half of them off James' plate. His face broke into a grin. She put her finger to her lips. Don't tell.

"When baby Jesse's eating solid food," Joshua said, as if it was the law of the universe. "you can make him eat your yams."

"This is delicious." Lizzie had never tasted a turkey with that much flavor.

One of the 12 year-old twins spoke up. "We raised that turkey with my brother Gerardo." Her sister glared and her mouth pursed. They both looked ready to burst into tears.

What questions are safe? "Well, you did a good job," Lizzie said, ladling more mashed potatoes in Saj's bowl. He loved them, but not with the gravy. Spike lapped up the gravy gratefully and ignored the potatoes.

The kids were energized, but subdued. If they got a little loud one of the older ones would shush them. Only one was not talking. A boy, brown-eyed, dark-haired kid about 10 years old, couldn't keep his deep eyes off her. "What's your name?" He reminded her of herself at big gatherings.

"He's Charley," said Cristina/Consuela in a snide, know-it-all voice. "Doesn't talk, though."

"Prob'bly can't." muttered a voice at the other end of the table.

Lizzie ignored the rest of the children and spoke to him directly, "Do you like yams?" His yams were nothing but an orange slime trail on his plate.

Charley busied himself with his food.

"My friends and I are going to meet my Dad. He's coming up from Texas. Where are you from, Charley?"

He continued staring at the food and shoveling it in.

Oh, well. Sometimes you lose.

Lizzie caught him staring during the meal and she smiled at him, but he always shied away. From the other room she heard talk of heading down toward Centralia; there was a church group down there that was sending people out to bring in the flock. Even the chosen don't know where to go or what to do.

As the kids finished, they took their plates, and politely excused themselves. Charley still stared at Lizzie.

She went around the table and sat down next to him. "Is there something you want to ask me?"

His head nodded. Barely whispering, "Yes."

She'd gotten a response. Sometimes you win. "Well," Lizzie said, "Just ask. I'm not going to hurt you."

He stared at his shoes. Then slightly louder than before, he asked, "Can I go with you?"

"What do you mean? Why would you want to come with us?"

His head came up. His eyes held tears threatening to fall. "My grandpa lives in New Mexico. He's the only family I've got left."

"Oh." Lizzie frowned. "Charley, we're not going that far. Only to Salt Lake City, Utah."

"But..." He gritted his teeth. His hands turned to fists. "Can you take me part way?"

"How old are you?

"Twelve."

"Do you know how far it is from Salt Lake City to New Mexico. What city?"

"He lives on the Mescalero Rez."

Lizzie had no idea where Mescalero was or even how far it was from Salt Lake to New Mexico. "Are you native?"

"Yeah. I know I don't look it." His eyes fled again to his feet. "They always tease me at the powwows. I'm half. On my mom's side." His lip trembled and his jaw worked. "I talked to Grandpa a couple weeks ago, but he said the power had been flickering and now I can't reach him."

Lizzie saw his pain. And like hers, there was a possibility to relieve it. But what if Grandpa is already dead?

"I only have a backpack of stuff. And I'm ready to go."

Charley must have seen something slip inside her.

"No promises, Charley. We'll talk to your par-, the Reverends."

Charley's eyes glowed, his stolid silence broken. He pushed his seat back and ran off. Oh my, Lizzie. What are you, the Pied Piper? She stood, steeling herself for the conversation.