Sue and Jesse continued north. Sue reasoned that Lionel knew he was going to die, and they couldn't persuade him otherwise, so why not get the hell out of the area while they still could? She didn't like leaving behind her family, but she wouldn't be able to help them any more than "Phaeton" could. Jesse had agreed, reluctantly, and they hit the highway.
Occasionally Jesse would dart off into the wastes and bring back some goods, usually wild food. Once, he brought her a gun. "Might need it," he said, so she tucked it into her skirt and carried on.
They hadn't gone very far up 75 before a figure in the distance appeared. Jesse made a strange noise as they drew closer, then vanished into the wastes. As she had done before, Sue waited for him to return. She watched the figure drawing nearer, and wondered what to do.
"Hi there!" the man said. Sue eyed him, cautiously. He was not tall, but had shaggy hair and a beard you could hide a bloatfly in. He was dressed for action in leathers and a sidearm visible on his hip.
"Hello," she said, standing firm.
The man grinned from ear to ear, splitting his beard. Sue would have been amused if she hadn't been so careful around strangers. "I'm looking for a no-good punk named Jesse. A kid, really. You seen him?"
She put a hand on her hip and waved the other in the air, expectantly. "You got caps?"
"Sadly, I am beyond poor," he replied.
"Then I haven't seen Jack Shit, much less your Jesse." She kept her eyes on the beard, fighting the urge to glance off into the wastes after Jesse.
He nodded, understandingly. "Alright. Maybe you've seen a grumpy one-armed ghoul named Lionel?" he asked.
Sue's face twitched. She sighed. "Man!" she groaned. She couldn't keep up the deception. "You must be Amos."
"Right in one," he smiled, patiently. "Now, where is Jesse?"
"Hiding, I think," she said. "I'll get him out for you." She turned to the south and started to walk away, then broke into a full run. After a moment, Jesse came flying out of some rocks and joined her. Sue caught his arm and slowed to a stop. "Sorry, Jesse," she muttered. "But you gotta deal with him."
"I swear―" Jesse had a look of utter surprise on his face. He threw up his free hand. "Every single time!"
Amos was shortly upon them and Sue turned to meet him. He looked like he wanted to chew Jesse up and spit him out. "Jesse, you are in so much trouble right now..."
"Oh, no!" Jesse said, protesting. "No, you don't blame me! You blame Lionel, or them Paramount soldiers, or even Celia, but you can't blame me!"
Amos looked at him critically. "What about Celia?"
"She's in Detroit," Jesse said. He shook Sue's hand off his arm. "And that dumb asshole went in after her!"
Out of the blue, Amos slapped Jesse right across the face. "Don't fucking swear, Jesse!" he roared.
Jesse went very quiet, looking down and away from Amos. Sue's chest tightened. He'd told her that Amos was a good guy, pretty much as good as they could get. She was worried, now.
"Every time you get into a jam, every time someone beats you down―every time you go off on an adventure, who do you think has to come save your ass?" Amos jabbed a finger at Jesse's face. "ME! I do! And Ma sits at home, crying day and night, because she put so much time and love into raising you, and you turned out a hellion anyway!"
Sue felt embarrassed for Jesse. She slipped her hand into his and squeezed.
"And―I don't know what godforsaken idea you got into your head to come so far south, but this―this right here? This is the absolute limit of what I will tolerate!" Amos' face contorted with anger, and he pointed at the ground they were standing on.
"Amos," Jesse started.
"No! Shut up!" Amos yelled. "You're going home, and you'll stay home, on the farm, until Ma says that you're well-behaved enough that you won't run off and die!"
Sue couldn't stand it anymore. "Jesse was helping us!" she cried. "All our families―mine, and Jeremiah's and Kelley's and Abramov's―they're being held in Detroit, just like Celia! We were gonna get them all free of Paramount and the High Ferrule!"
"Don't, Sue," Jesse mumbled, in a low voice. He hadn't looked up.
"Free?" Amos looked at the two teenagers. His voice was raw.
"Yes!" Sue stood taller, proud of her effort to help the rebels. She pulled Jesse's arm behind her and stood in front of him, pushing Amos away from him. "We have been fighting for Detroit's freedom."
"Little brother," Amos said, looking over her shoulder at Jesse. "Is this true? Did you join a resistance movement to free a city?"
Jesse nodded, looking miserable.
Amos looked at both of them again, his face softening. Sue stood firmly against him. Then, with a jerk that startled them both, Amos threw his head back, put his hands on his hips and laughed into the sky until tears ran into his beard.
"My God," he said, wiping his face. "Here I am, content with one or two at a time!"
Sue didn't understand. Jesse shrugged, hazarded a little smile. "Go big or go home?" he murmured.
"Why are you heading north?" Amos asked Sue.
"Because Phaeton is waiting for death in Flat Rock," she said. "I mean, Lionel. He got into a firefight and we had to run away."
"He's meeting Sigma," Jesse added. "He's probably dead."
"And you let him go?" Amos asked, clicking his tongue at Jesse.
"You know how gruff he is," Jesse said. "He said he was gonna get shot, and he didn't care. I couldn't help him any more."
"Doesn't mean it's right to let a man walk off to his death," Amos said.
"I know," Jesse agreed. "But he's so over the moon for Celia, man..." He rubbed his cheek. "He's gone nuts."
Sue really wanted to hear the story behind this one, but she was patient. "He's in love?" she asked, softly.
"Yeah," Jesse said.
"It was wrong of us to interfere, Jesse," Amos said. "If he's picking fights with Paramount, I doubt we could stop him, anyway. And he won't let go so easily, this time." Amos sighed, ran a hand over his beard. "But he's not dead, Jesse. That one, he's tougher than a razorback."
Jesse nodded. "I know."
"Will someone please fill me in?" Sue asked. "I feel like I'm only getting half the story here."
The three walked together down the highway, and Amos told her about Celia, Lionel, and the farm where Jesse had lived. But instead of going north, Sue guided them south. Back to Detroit, and back to Phaeton.
Adam was displeased with her. Eve sobbed, noiselessly, laying on the floor of the bower. The bright lights around them caused the blood on the floor to glisten. He struck her again, and again, until her face swelled up and she could barely breathe through a bloodied and broken nose.
She wasn't sure what she had done. She had stopped for a moment while she danced, to catch her breath. She wasn't tired, but her limbs had slowed down, and she had to stop.
Adam muttered to himself, looming above her, staring down at her. "Limited to seven days," he said. "Plus/minus one. Age of subject irrelevant. Physical condition..." he grumbled to himself. "Possible relevance."
She stared at his feet, blankly. Blood oozed from her face onto the floor, mingling with tears. The pain was intense, and she felt bile rising up into her throat.
"It's not forever," he whined. He held his hands up to the ceiling. "Lord, how do I make it forever?"
Lionel.
Celia remembered. She stopped crying, blinked in surprise. She was aware of where she was, of what had just happened. It didn't matter that she was in pain, anymore. It only mattered that she knew who she was, again, and the spacious emptiness inside her was suddenly filled with her own voice.
She was alive. And she needed to get out of this place, before the mad ghoul killed her. She laid there, her body limp, looking at his withered feet, and tried to clear her thoughts. Memories were jumbled, a mess inside her head, flung here and there. She felt so tired.
"Ugh." He was looking at her now. "Go away, Eve. Do not come back until you are clean."
She stood, and one of the devout around the bower escorted her to a bathroom. Once inside, she looked around at the room, and undressed, using the tunic to clean her face. She turned the water on as much as it would go and used the noise to mask her crying.
She'd been away from him for so long, now. Was he out there, waiting for her? Was he dead? What would happen now? She would die, if that horrid creature in the bower realized she was no longer under his control.
Celia dabbed at her face, wincing. She couldn't remember what the last thing she'd said to him was. The thought jarred her to her core. Her memory was completely out of order, and she took some time to try to put it together.
"I'm sorry." That was it. The last thing she'd said to Lionel. But she couldn't remember why.
She redressed and returned to the bower. Adam―the High Ferrule―looked her over. "Not much improvement," he said. "Sit."
She sat, immediately. He looked at her with a curious face, and smiled that terrible smile. It took all her willpower to not cringe.
"Interesting," he cackled. He told her to do various things, testing her. "A momentary lapse," he murmured. "But what caused it?"
Celia steeled herself and stared at a vague spot near the ceiling of the bower. Lionel, she said to herself. Be patient for me. I'll get out.
On the roof of the Concourse, a series of metal spikes had been welded to the grid work. Small metal boxes had been attached to the spikes, and Celia realized it was a series of amplifiers, designed to boost a signal. She stared at the distant point of the spikes, the horror of the array sinking into her.
It was designed to spread a signal further from the Temple, into the wastes. He planned to enslave the entire area, just as he'd enslaved her, with that ISD thing.
No, Celia thought. I can't run away from this. Not while I'm still alive. Not while I can still help. ...You'll understand, right, Lionel?