Author's Note: Thank you to all the kind reviewers who have been encouraging me. I've been sitting on these chapters for months because I wanted to work on making them much better. Alas, I have NO time so I'm just going to post them as-is. I have to warn readers that I can't commit to regular updates at this time, but I'll do my best to get what I have written already up at least. Maybe by then I'll have found more time to write the rest.
The route to Kansas—or Jericho, as it had been renamed—proves long and gruelling.
June spends a month in Michigan, in a bunker that belongs securely to resistance fighters. Tuello had given her the name of the resistance leader in Michigan and, this time, she's made sure she has plenty to trade for her room and board.
The days stretch far longer than she'd have liked or even has the patience for, but the discovery of Fred's mangled corpse had intensified the onslaught against resistance strongholds so that movement between bases, as June is constantly reminded by a burly fighter who introduces himself as Gunner, is virtually suicide.
She stops calling Nick after the first week. Not because she's given up, but because the line no longer rings. It hangs dead, no friendly feminine voice to tell her the number is no longer in service. She wonders if that means that it's not officially disconnected. She can't help the hurtful suspicion that creeps in that he's permanently shut it off.
As if to dispel the thought, June's mind takes her back to the look in Nick's eyes when he'd shared his regret that he hadn't run away with her. No, this is Nick; he loves her. He wouldn't just shut her out like this. Something's definitely wrong.
Even as she spends her days trying to stay productive and offer intelligence or a helping hand as often as she can, June strengthens her resolve to find him. She knows that if the situation were reversed—if it was June who'd vanished in this hell hole—Nick would do the same for her.
Eventually, a delivery truck taking lumber from the forests surrounding Lake Erie is secured to take June across the state. She hides in a hollowed out log, wrapped in a blanket she'd traded for a pocket knife.
The truck pulls into a safe house in Wisconsin. It's an underground railroad of sorts, she discovers.
An old economan and woman whose property was once a lumber mill have a contract with Gilead that allows them to keep their home and report to Guardians once a week. They process the raw lumber and then ship it out to various distribution centres across the country.
"You must have people you love here," the woman, Eliza, says as if they're playing a game of 'Guess the Motive,' as June sits across from her and her husband, Tom, for a simple dinner of tomato and grilled pepper soup.
June simply smiles and nods at her in confirmation.
Tom looks at her with a bit of a fatherly disapproval. "Usually, people are smuggled out of Gilead in that log," He states gruffly, as if pointing out that she's driving on the wrong side of the highway.
Eliza nods in agreement, "Yes. This would be the very first time anyone has asked to be brought in." There's curiosity in her voice, but she never asks June any direct questions.
"I have some unfinished business here," June explains vaguely. She knows as well as anyone that keeping strangers on a 'need-to-know' basis is a kindness here. "And some people I need to find."
"Well, I hope you get to finish it, dear…and find your people," Eliza tells her kindly.
"Me too," June answers, worry weighing down the hopeful words and straining her grateful smile.
They all decide that it's risky to stay beyond the week. A Guardian is due for inspection in the coming week and the whole operation could be put at risk if anyone from the government gets remotely suspicious.
It's a misty dawn as June boards a truck headed to the distribution centre in Jericho.
Eliza hands her a bag of food just big enough for the two-day drive and squeezes June's hand just before Tom helps her crawl into the barely-big-enough log.
When June arrives in Jericho, she joins a Marthas network at an army base identified only as 'B' on Tuello's contact list.
The women are like waves of grey moving through a sea of black. Of course, that's when they leave the kitchens, which they rarely do. Mostly, the women simply bustle around like dull, silver automatons.
June's anxiety dissipates after the first time she leaves the building at night to make her way to her bunk. The soldiers are either too exhausted or too reassured by their own might to suspect she doesn't belong there. No one bats an eye. She thinks there's got to be some merit to the expression 'hiding in plain sight'.
Within the week, June thinks she might have figured out Tuello's mysterious 'B.' She catches a young Martha with jet-black, curly hair named Bonnie whispering profanities under her breath every time an order arrives from the barracks. It's a minute act of dissent, but June has become something of an expert on subtle acts of defiance and she thinks Bonnie has more than just a few choice words up her sleeve.
It takes her another day to work up the opportunity (and the courage) to approach Bonnie as the Martha is kneading some dough and ask if she can help her get to the Westwood district.
Bonnie only gives June a cutting look in reply, lips tight and body tense. Slapping her dough into a bread tin, she turns away without a word and walks over to the hot oven. June only catches her eye once the rest of their shift, but Bonnie looks away, bottom lip firmly between her teeth.
Feeling dejected and a little anxious, June's shoulders droop as she heads out the kitchens towards the Martha quarters. Maybe Tuello's 'B' stands for something or someone else?
Bonnie's elbow taps against hers and June reflexively stifles her gasp. "The only way to Westwood is with special papers."
"Papers?" June whispers.
"Travel documents," Bonnie answers. "They'll check for them at the checkpoint."
June nods. "How do I—"
"You don't," Bonnie bites harshly, but after a beat she adds in a softer voice, "Unless…"
June tamps down her excitement. "Unless?"
Bonnie sighs and June can sense the futility of the offered solution before the Martha has even spoken. "Unless you get outsourced or, even more unlikey, hired out there."
"Please," June implores, "I need to get to Westwood. Can you just tell me how or who to talk to…I'll do whatever it takes to get those papers."
Bonnie lets out a short laugh. "My friend…"
"June," June quickly supplies.
"June. You're going to be trouble."
June can't help the smirk that plays at her lips. "I get that a lot."
Bonnie stays silent for a moment, perhaps considering this new and dangerous alliance and whether June is worth her effort. "I'll keep an ear out for any openings in the area. In case you haven't noticed, there's a strong military presence in Jericho. You want to get to Westwood outside of a body bag, you're going to have to do it the legal way."
June nods and whispers, "Thank you." Bonnie disappears down the hallway to her bedroom.
June lays awake in her bed for hours considering this new, tiny light Bonnie has lit at the end of her tunnel with the promise of her help. She feels so close to Nick now that her palms tingle in anticipation of feeling the firm expanse of his chest under them. She clenches her fingers tightly against her palms, imagining the feel of his skin instead of her own. For the first time in a long while, she falls into a deep, untroubled sleep.
It's another three weeks before Bonnie has something.
"You must be crazy lucky," Bonnie whispers to her as they fill small bowls with oatmeal. "Some rich Commander and his wife are having a baby shower over in Sheba City and they need a bunch of extra Marthas to help set the whole thing up—temps. It's apparently a big deal."
June raises an eyebrow in question. "Big deal for a big shot Commander?"
Bonnie rolls her eyes but shakes her head, "Uh-uh. It's not about the 'who' with this one, it's the 'how.' No Handmaid involved."
June sighs but a warm feeling has started to spread at the base of her belly. Crazy lucky does seem to be her thing. She can't help but feel her hope slightly swell.
"Sheba City?" She asks incredulously.
"Yeah, you know it?" Bonnie looks at June curiously.
She nods, "Yeah, that's pretty much the bullseye."
"Seriously?" Bonnie's surprise is bubbly. "Geez, they're going to put your face next to the definition for serendipity someday."
June laughs lightly. She feels excited that the journey might finally be coming to an end and, after two months, she can finally answer the big question that's been plaguing her since the night after Fred's hanging: what in the hell has happened to Nick Blaine.
"Wait, you said no Handmaid?" June raises her eyebrows, "Are they getting ready to crown this guy yet?"
Bonnie gives June a sly grin, accidentally smudging flour over her tanned cheekbone, "One part of him is probably getting crowned pretty regularly. Probably'll turn him into an official state breeder—if they haven't already."
"Just what this place needs," June says painfully. "A cradle to senate pipeline."
"Oh, I don't know," Bonnie shrugs and leans in to whisper, "Maybe someone will pile all the little critters onto a plane somewhere along the way and ship them all out for some quick deprogramming."
June's smile twitches at the corner of her mouth. Bonnie laughs softly, "Anyway, you'll have to stay the week apparently to set up and clean up."
"A week in Westwood? Sign me up!" June smiles.
"One step ahead of you," Bonnie tells her smoothly, a distinct note of satisfaction in her voice. "A worker's van is going to be sent for us in the morning."
Excitement thrums through June's body. One step closer.
The van pulls up to the back of a stately house; the beige stucco has been cut into bricks, six massive columns frame the front stoop and June figures the 10 ft. windows must fill the structure with enough natural light to make it hard to distinguish the inside from the outside.
June would be impressed if she didn't know that these big, beautiful estates housed the true monsters of Gilead. A mausoleum like this must have at least a hundred buried skeletons in the yard.
The house is bustling with activity. There are Marthas in every room, dusting, cleaning, arranging fresh cut flowers and pastel coloured decorations.
"Hey," June whispers to Bonnie as they drape white linen tablecloths over what is meant to be the dessert table. "When do you think I can slip away? I need to see if I can find someone."
Bonnie knows better than to ask who, but she asks instead, "Where in Sheba City are you going?"
"Palmyra Drive."
"Fuck off! We're in Palmyra now. Which house?" Bonnie whispers back excitedly.
"Not this one," June says assuredly. "It's probably something smaller, more suited for a bachelor." She looks around the room, noting the opulence and femininity of the place with derision. Nick would never live in a place this bright and airy.
"Ooh, a man?" Bonnie raises an eyebrow.
June smiles, "Yes. An old acquaintance."
"Is the acquaintanceship the part that's old or is he?" Bonnie questions with less enthusiasm.
June's eyes twinkle, but she keeps her tone casual. "He's a friend—from my last posting."
"Ooh, a boyfriend?" Bonnie whispers conspiratorially.
June blushes and decides to bring the conversation back to her earlier question, "So when can I slip away?"
"Well, maybe you won't have to."
"What do you mean?"
"It's a bigtime baby shower, remember? Everyone in town is probably invited. Your mystery man just might be here." Bonnie shrugs. "And if he's not, then you can always duck out while the party's in full rage. I doubt anyone would notice you missing in the madhouse this thing is sure to be."
"You're fucking fantastic, Bonnie!" June is beaming.
"Thank me when you find him." Bonnie shrugs.
"I will." June promises.
For those readers who are catching onto the foreshadowing...there is some serious drama coming in the next chapters, but you can also expect some plot twists too, so don't get too comfortable with guessing what's happening. :)