The Traveler

“Amen,” said an old lady.

“I also do not beg forgiveness for joining with a Harlequin to stand against the Tabula. I did this, at first, for money-like a hired killer. But now the blindfold has been ripped from my eyes, and I have seen the power of the Tabula and their plan to control and manipulate the people of New Babylon.

“For many years, this church has been divided by the issue of Debt Not Paid. I believe, very strongly, that this argument has lost its meaning. Zachary Goldman, the Lion of the Temple, died with the Prophet. That’s a fact, and no one disputes it. But what’s more important is the evil being done right now, the willingness of the Tabula to betray mankind. As the Prophet said: ‘The Righteous must fight the Dragon both in darkness and in light.’”

Vicki glanced around the church. Hollis had won over some of them, but definitely not Reverend Morganfield. The elderly believers were nodding and praying and whispering, “Amen.”

“We must support the Harlequins and their allies, not only with our prayers but with our sons and daughters. That’s why I’ve come here today. Our army needs the help of Victory From Sin Fraser. I’m asking her to join us and share our hardships.”

Hollis raised his right hand and gestured as if to say: Come with me. Vicki knew this was the biggest choice she had ever made in her life. When she looked at her mother, she saw that Josetta was crying.

“I want your blessing,” Vicki whispered.

“Don’t go. They’ll kill you.”

“This is my life, Mother. It’s my choice. You know I can’t stay here.”

Still crying, Josetta embraced her daughter. Vicki could feel her mother’s arms holding her tightly, and then finally letting go. Everyone watched as Vicki left the pew and joined Hollis near the altar.

“Goodbye,” she said to the congregation. Her own voice surprised her. It sounded strong and confident. “In the next few weeks, I might ask some of you for help and support. Go home and pray. Decide if you want to stand with us.”

Hollis grabbed her hand and they headed quickly for the door. A pickup truck with a camper shell was parked in the side alleyway. As they got in, Hollis pulled an automatic out of his waistband and placed it on the seat between them. “Two Tabula mercs are out front, across the street,” he said. “Let’s hope they don’t have a second group watching us.” Slowly he drove down the alley to a dirt access road that ran between the two rows of buildings. Hollis kept turning until they reached a paved street several blocks away from the church.

“Are you all right?” Vicki glanced at Hollis and he smiled.

“I had a little fight with three splicers, but I’ll tell you about that later. For the last few days, I’ve been driving around the city, going to public libraries and using their computers. I’ve been in contact with this Harlequin in France named Linden. He’s Maya’s friend, the guy who sent me the money.”

“Who else is in this ‘army’ you were talking about?”

“At this point, it’s just you, me, Maya, and Gabriel. She’s brought him back to Los Angeles. But listen to this…” Hollis thumped his fist on the steering wheel. “Gabriel crossed the barriers. He’s a Traveler. The real thing.”

Vicki looked at the traffic as they turned onto the freeway. Thousands of people sat alone, each held within their little box on wheels. The citizens gazed at the bumpers in front of them, listened to noise from their radios, and assumed that this time and place was the only true reality. In Vicki’s mind, everything had changed. A Traveler had broken the restraints that held them to this world. The freeway, the cars and drivers, was not a final answer, only one possible alternative.

“Thank you for coming to the church, Hollis. That was a dangerous thing to do.”

“I knew you’d be there and I remembered the alleyway. Besides, I needed the permission of the congregation. I could tell that most of them supported me.”

“What kind of permission are you talking about?”

Hollis leaned back in the seat and laughed. “We’re hiding out at Arcadia.”

Arcadia was a church camp in the hills northwest of Los Angeles. A white woman named Rosemary Kuhn, who liked to sing hymns at the Jonesie church, had given forty acres of Malibu ranch land to the congregation. Both Vicki and Hollis had visited Arcadia when they were children, taking hikes, swimming in the pool, and singing songs around the Saturday night campfire. A few years ago, the camp’s water well had failed and the zoning board had condemned the site for different violations. The Jonesie church was trying to sell the property while Rosemary Kuhn’s children were suing to get it back.