Crossing the Rubicon 10
#10 of Rubicon
The church was at least one hundred years old. Ornate, made of brick and stone, the tall, old church rose up towards the sky. On top, a bell tower perched like something out of the Middle Ages.
The bell had not been rung in decades.
Behind the church, an ancient swing set hung from an even more ancient tree. At the moment, a male and a female sat on two of the swings. Side by side, they looked, perhaps, like lost children from a fairy tale - though they were adults. The female, Celeste, was an elf with pierced ears and a mohawk. The male was Rav, an anthro Lion. His mane was pulled back and held with a rubber band. The two, former lovers who'd been friends for years, sat silently on the swings.
They watched as two figures approached the church.
Behind Rav and Celeste, in their van, Micah was sleeping. A young human from upstate New York, Micah's life had suddenly become like a movie, or like a novel about a chosen one called to adventure.
Micah was only just beginning to learn of the cost that such adventures always demand. Always, there was a price to pay.
As he slept, he was guarded by Drake, a feral Doberman. This feral, however, had come from another world. He could speak, as anthros did, and he had an anthro's intelligence. As he had sworn he would do, always, Drake guarded the young human.
As Celeste and Rav watched, Duncan and Jack approached the old church. It was almost, but not quite, two in the morning.
"Breaking into a church," Jack said, quietly. "That's a new one for me."
"We have no choice," Duncan replied, repeating something he'd said earlier. "Let's just hope what we need is here."
Duncan was Rav and Celeste's boss. A Pit Bull with dark gray fur, Duncan was thirty-two. He'd been drawn into the quest to find America's next monarch years ago, when he was a teenager. The quest had given him a purpose. It had also marked and (somewhat) consumed him.
Jack was a Great Dane from New York City, and he'd been hired to come along on the trip out west - a trip that (hopefully) would end with the restoration of something vital, something which had been lost long ago.
Duncan broke a pane of glass in the back door, and soon the two males were standing in the church's kitchen.
"I wonder where . . ." Duncan said, mostly to himself. One door led to a large pantry. Another led to a dining room. Past the dining room, the church at last resembled a church. The long, long aisle culminated at the altar. On both sides of the aisle, rows of pews filled the space. Off on one side, a few confession booths. The ceiling was high above them - this central part of the building had walls that rose up nearly twenty feet high.
Duncan pointed up.
"There are two more floors up there," he said. "And the bell tower. There's also a basement."
"We should split up," Jack said. "I'll check the upper floors. We're looking for lockers, right?"
"Right. Father Cranagh told me, once, he had one here. You don't want the basement?" Duncan's smile was amused.
"Not at all! I've seen too many horror movies."
"This is a church, Jack."
"I'll say it again. I've seen the movies."
They found the stairs near the church's large front door. Jack ascended, while Duncan descended.
On the penultimate floor, Jack found a large office, a small bathroom, and a library. The library had no door, and took up more than half the floor. Several tall shelves filled with books made Jack think, briefly, about his first boyfriend.
The top floor was a maze of small bedrooms, plus two spacious bathrooms - one for males, one for females. Jack checked a few of the bedrooms, and found no lockers. He found beds with brass frames, crucifixes on the walls, and dust. Curious, he went into the bathroom for males. Moonlight bounced off of two ancient - and very ornate-looking - urinals. There were also two sinks, and two very large stalls with half-doors. In the corner, two showers faced the room, with nothing to hide them from view.
The basement, meanwhile, was neither scary nor dirty. Duncan found one room for laundry, and another for storage. Beyond, a row of lockers. Most had a strip of tape across their doors, strips with names on them.
Pere, one said, simply. Father Cranagh's nickname.
Inside, Duncan found a Bible and an address book. Both seemed as though they had not been touched in ages. Both had dust on them.
Duncan could sense his old friend's presence everywhere, suddenly, in the church. Pere may not have gotten into his locker recently, but he had visited the church often. The feeling of loss overwhelmed Dunan, then.
Suddenly, Jack was there, startling Duncan.
"Sorry. Kind of snuck up on you."
"It's alright," Duncan said, shaking it off. He held up the address book, then he opened it to a random page.
"What's all that?" Jack asked.
"Addresses, mostly. And phone numbers." Duncan smiled, while Jack looked puzzled. "They're written in code," Duncan explained.
"And I guess you know the code?"
Duncan nodded.
"Well, that was easy," Jack said, amused.
"First time on this trip something was easy, right?"
"Don't jinx it."
Duncan flipped through the pages.
"The mage we're looking for lives in Delaware."
"Mages live in Delaware?"
"Mages live everywhere, Jack."
"I know. It just - for some reason - sounded funnier in my head."
"That's not very far away," Duncan said, looking thoughtful. "This is almost becoming too easy."
"Don't worry, something terrible will happen on our way there."
Duncan nodded in affirmation. They needed to find this particular mage because Duncan was sure he could help them. Someone was after Duncan's group - chasing them, trying to stop them from getting to California. Somehow, the mysterious pursuers always knew where to find them. It was probably magic. And thus . . . they needed help.
Duncan looked around at the quiet basement of the quiet church. The feeling of loss remained within him.
And perhaps that is why he did not ask Jack about the wall he'd put up between himself and Duncan. And it wasn't just Jack - Drake, the feral, also seemed tense, suddenly, around Duncan.
Duncan suspected that the two - Jack and Drake - blamed him for Father Cranagh's death. Perhaps they felt like the team should never have gone to Cranagh's house at all? Duncan wondered if Jack and Drake felt that Father Cranagh - Pere - should've been kept out of things.
As the two males climbed the stairs, then headed for the door, neither of them said anything. Surely, someone should have. Duncan should have asked about the tension he was sensing from Jack - and from Drake, as well.
And Jack should have attempted to clear the air. He and Drake were angry with Duncan, that was true. The tension Duncan sensed was real. However, Duncan was wrong about the reason for the tension.
Drake and Jack were not wondering why they'd gone to Millston. They felt like involving Father Cranagh had been a good idea.
They were wondering, instead, why Duncan had told Father Cranagh and Micah to leave the house, when they'd all been attacked by mercenaries. That, they felt, had been a mistake.
That, they felt, had led to Father Cranagh's death. And thus the Father's death was Duncan's fault.
Neither Jack nor Drake knew the truth.
The truth was that Duncan had given no such order. Cranagh himself had decided that the best course of action - the best way to keep Micah safe - would be to leave. Duncan had been surprised by this, as had everyone else.
This is how fault lines, or fractures, can appear in a fellowship.
If assumptions are made, but are not spoken of . . . if confusion arises . . .
Duncan assumed one thing, while Jack and Drake assumed another.
No one, however, spoke of what they suspected. Dissension was allowed to rise.
A few hours later, dawn appeared in the sky. No one had slept much, except for Micah. They gassed up the van, and then they filled their stomachs with breakfast, though no one had much appetite. Celeste, as usual, drove, while Duncan sat quietly in the passenger seat. Behind them, Jack and Rav asked each other about their favorite places in New York. In the back, Micah, meanwhile, was thinking about how he blamed himself for Pere's death. Next to him, Drake was fairly certain he knew the direction of the young human's thoughts, and he promised himself he'd bring it up, the next time the two had a moment alone.
As they did these things, no one pursued them. No one attacked them.
And soon they were once again on the highway, heading west.
Hours later, they crossed into Delaware. Celeste took an exit that promised food, lodging, and gas. There were several eateries and gas stations, but everything was closed. As well, the town around them seemed to be empty.
All across America, many towns and villages - and a few of the cities - were starting to feel the effects of a similar exodus.
Duncan expertly siphoned gas from a nearby car, to fuel the van.
Rav and Jack wandered into a nearby diner. The door swung open, and all the food had been carried off. However, the electricity was still on, and they were able to make coffee.
When Jack handed Duncan a styrofoam cup filled to the brim, Duncan said, half kidding and half serious, "As long as we have coffee, everything is alright."
"I'll drink to that," Jack replied.
When they all returned to the van, Celeste drove. As she entered the highway, she saw two black SUVs coming up behind them.
"I told you it wouldn't be too easy," Jack said to Duncan.
"How much further to the mage's place?" Celeste asked.
"Not much further," Duncan said, looking ahead. "Pedal to the metal, yes? Let's try to outrun them."
"Fuck yeah," Celeste confirmed. "Pedal to the fuckin' metal."
She drove, faster and then faster, and the SUVs followed.