Ben Dover's Arc

Chapter 35 of 150

They moved west at a hard pace. Ben felt the clay jar knock against his spine with every step. The blue door was north. West was the wrong direction. Every hour toward the relic was an hour Payne's jar sat unopened in his pack, and Payne could change his mind. "Half a day west, then we split," Ben said. "Justin carries the jar north to the blue door. Anita and Joe come with me to the relic." Justin shook his head. "Payne gave the jar to you. If a stranger sets it on that porch, whoever lives there won't take it. Or Payne hears about it and comes looking." "He's right," Anita said. "Payne traded with you. Your hands. Your face at the door." Ben stopped walking. Three full boxes on his back. One empty box against his ribs. A jar he could not open and could not lose. The relic waited half a day one way. The blue door waited two days the other. Joe crouched and touched the dirt. "Small blue-scale came back through here. Not alone." Ben looked north through the trees. He thought of Payne's bandaged hands sorting leaves. He thought of the pup Payne put down in one clean motion. Payne did not chase debts. Payne collected them. "Jar first," Ben said. "North." Anita's mouth opened, then closed. Justin swore under his breath. "The relic won't move," Ben said. "Payne will. If he takes the box back, we've got a jar and no way to carry what we came for." They turned north. Ben set the pace fast enough to hurt. Joe covered their tracks behind them. By dusk the trees thinned. By full dark they saw a low house with a blue door on a rise, lamp burning in one window. Ben left the others in the pines. He walked the last stretch alone, jar in both hands. A small pale animal was curled on the porch step, thin ribs, drooping head. It watched him without moving. Ben set the clay jar beside the door, quiet as he could. He did not knock. He backed away. Halfway down the rise, the door opened behind him. He did not turn. He heard the jar lifted. He heard the door shut. At the pines, Anita grabbed his sleeve. "Done?" "Done." He pulled the empty carved box from his coat. The sad face stared up at him, heavy-lidded, mournful. Barb's initials scratched under the base. His now, fully. No one owed, no one owed him. Joe stood suddenly. A shape moved on the ridge behind them, low and gray, not the big blue-scale. Something narrower. Something that had been watching the house. "West," Ben said. "Now. Before it decides which of us it wants." They ran. Ben had his box. He had lost two days. And something new had seen his face at the blue door.