“Which means we’re close.”
“Electricity . . .,” Lucy said, remembering Vera’s stories of light after the sun had gone down. “Fletcher said it was here, but I couldn’t hardly believe they were that well off.”
“Could be it’s only used for the desal plants, you know. Something’s gotta run it. I doubt they waste energy on things like lightbulbs. Don’t get your hopes up.”
“I won’t,” Lucy promised, but she couldn’t squash the flutter of excitement in her belly.
They walked through the afternoon, their spirits dropping as unpopulated buildings rose around them. Despite her promise, Lynn clicked the safety off on the rifle, and Lucy didn’t mention it. Their footfalls echoed one another as they walked alone, past a residential district with rusted-out cars sitting quietly in the driveways.
A new scent had found Lucy’s nose, tickling her nostrils and bringing her senses to a high pitch. “You smell that?”
“I think it’s the ocean.”
“The ocean,” Lucy said, taking a deep breath of the salty tang. “Yeah, I imagine it is.”
They moved on, the buildings growing closer together as they went. Lynn became antsy and they went off the highway, picking their way through parking lots with grass growing through ever-widening cracks in the pavement, until they hit the ocean. It rose to meet Lucy, the tide nibbling at her toes as she pulled off her shoes to feel it properly for the first time in her life. The vast blue expanse met the sky, the sun making a new red road on its undulating surface, one that led to the horizon.
“Lucy,” Lynn said quietly. “I’m sorry, little one. There’s no one here.”
Lynn didn’t turn. “So far, no, but I don’t think Fletcher would’ve led us wrong.”
“Me neither, but maybe something happened to them, maybe . . .”
“We can talk maybes all day long and still not know a thing,” Lucy said, toes curling in the wet sand. “I’m heading north. If we get to Oregon, we know something’s wrong.”
“All right then,” Lynn said, adjusting her pack. “Let’s go.”
“Not yet,” Lucy said, as the tide swelled over her feet again. “Not just yet.”
Lucy walked on, and Lynn followed. They’d been following the beach for miles when Lynn’s fingers dug into Lucy’s arm, nodding up ahead. Lucy pulled her gaze from the ocean to see the figure of a man on the beach. He spotted them seconds later and waved an arm in greeting.
“Well,” Lynn said under her breath. “I guess that’s how this is done.”
They walked toward him, cautiously leaning toward each other, their elbows rubbing with every step. Lynn kept her rifle on her back, and Lucy saw the man’s expression change when they were near enough for him to see the barrel rising above her shoulder.
“Hi there,” he said as they approached, the sparse gray hair on the crown of his head blowing in the evening breeze. “I thought you were Bridget and Taylor heading home from fishing.”
Lucy stood before him, her mouth feeling as if it were sewn shut. Behind her, she heard Lynn sink into the sand, her body giving out on her. The man looked between the two of them. “Well, who are you then?”
Lucy’s lips moved, her throat constricted, but no sounds came out. Witching was insignificant next to the ocean, her precious skill useless in this new world. She had nothing to offer in exchange for a life less normal. In the end, she said, “My name is Lucy, and I walked across the country to get here.”
“Well done, Lucy,” the man said, extending his hand. “I’m Dan.”
She shook it. “This is Lynn.” She nodded toward the ground, as if Lynn being there were completely normal.
“Hi, Lynn,” Dan said, nodding when she didn’t reach for his hand. “That’s a hell of a gun you’ve got there.”
“Uh-huh,” Lynn said.
“We’re supposed to tell you Fletcher sent us,” Lucy said. “I don’t know if that makes a difference or—”
“Fletcher?” Dan smacked his hands together. “How is the old bastard?”
“He’s alive,” Lucy said. “We met him in Nebraska. He said if we—”
Dan hands rested lightly on her shoulders, stopping her flow of words. “You prove your worth by your actions, Lucy. You can relax now. You’re here.” He put his other hand on Lynn’s shoulder. “You made it, girls.”