The Traveler

They didn’t talk in the car. Hollis kept glancing at her, but she didn’t look back. When Vicki had taken a shower that morning, she had given in to her curiosity and searched the bathroom like a detective. In the bottom drawer of the sink cabinet, she found a clean nightgown, a can of hair spray, sanitary napkins, and five new toothbrushes. She didn’t expect Hollis to be celibate, but the five toothbrushes, each in a plastic case, suggested an endless series of women pulling off their clothes and lying down on his bed. In the morning Hollis would make coffee, drive the woman home, throw away the used toothbrush, and start again.

When they reached her street in Baldwin Hills, Vicki told Hollis to park at the corner. She didn’t want her mother to see them in the car and come running out of the house. Josetta would assume the worst about Hollis-that her daughter’s rebellion had been caused by a secret relationship with this man.

She turned to Hollis. “How are you going to convince the Tabula that Gabriel is still in Los Angeles?”

“I don’t have an exact plan, but I’ll come up with something. Before Gabriel left, I recorded his voice with my tape recorder. If they hear him talking on a local phone call, they’ll assume he’s still in the city.”

“And when that’s over, what will you do next?”

“Take the money and fix up my school. We need an air-conditioning system and the landlord won’t buy one.”

She must have shown her disappointment because Hollis looked annoyed. “Come on, Vicki. Don’t act like a church girl. For the last twenty-four hours you haven’t been that way at all.”

“And what way is that?”

“Always making judgments. Quoting Isaac Jones every chance you get.”

“Yes. I forgot. You don’t believe in anything.”

“I believe in seeing things clearly. And it seems obvious to me that the Tabula have all the money and the power. There’s a good chance they’re going to find Gabriel and Maya. She’s a Harlequin so she won’t surrender…” Hollis shook his head. “I predict she’ll be dead in a couple of weeks.”

“And you’re not going to do anything about it?”

“I’m not an idealist. I left the church a long time ago. Like I said, I’ll finish this job. But I’m not going to fight for a lost cause.”

Vicki took her hand off the door handle and faced him. “What is your training for, Hollis? To make money? Is that all? Shouldn’t you be fighting for something that helps others? The Tabula want to capture and control anyone who could be a Traveler. They want the rest of us to act like little robots, obeying the faces we see on television, hating and fearing people we’ve never met.”

Hollis shrugged his shoulders. “I’m not saying you’re wrong. But that doesn’t change anything.”

“And if a great battle takes place, which side will you be on?”

She grabbed the door handle again, getting ready to go, but Hollis reached out and touched her left hand. With just a little tug, he pulled her toward him, then leaned over and kissed her on the lips. It felt as if light was flowing through both of them, only to be united for a moment. Vicki pulled away and opened the door.

“Do you like me?” he asked. “Admit that you like me.”

“Debt Not Paid, Hollis. Debt Not Paid.”

Vicki hurried down the sidewalk and cut across a neighbor’s lawn to her front door. Don’t stop, she told herself. Don’t look back.

28

Maya studied the map and saw that an interstate highway led straight from Los Angeles to Tucson. If they followed this thick green line they would be there in six or seven hours. A direct route was efficient, but also more dangerous. The Tabula would be looking for them on the main highways. Maya decided to cross the Mojave Desert into southern Nevada, then take local roads through Arizona.

The freeway system was confusing, but Gabriel knew where to go. He rode his motorcycle in front of her like a police escort, gesturing with his right hand to tell her to slow down, change lanes, take this ramp. At first they followed the interstate into Riverside County. About every twenty miles, they’d pass a shopping center with massive warehouse stores. Clustered around the stores were residential communities of identical houses with red tile roofs and bright green lawns.

All these cities had names that appeared on the road signs, but to Maya they were as artificial as the plywood sets on an opera stage. She couldn’t believe that anyone had traveled to these locations in a covered wagon to plow the land and build a schoolhouse. The freeway cities looked willful, deliberate, as if some Tabula corporation had designed the entire community and the citizens had followed the plan: buying homes, getting jobs, having children, and giving them up to the Vast Machine.