My satchel is packed full, with room left in the front pouch for only my map. The main compartment is loaded with necessities I've collected over the past week –pamphlets and instruments, Charlotte's calendar, the RRR schedule, a regional land map of foot trails and territories, and a supply of parchment.
The calendar is open, sprawled across my bed and marked with red dots to count the days that pass without progress. In the top right corner of today's square, there is no red dot.
March 1.
Tonight's the night.
My eyes flicker to the antique clock resting on my bedside table. 1:43 am.
Almost time.
My eyes fall on the unfolded 2 x 2 map spread open on my bed, held down on the end by my golden compass.
The perimeter of the land closely resembles the continent of North America as I remember it, circa 2015 –minus the southern tip of Florida, without a Gulf of Mexico and missing part of Northern Canada. Some distinguishable landmarks do remain: The Grand Canyon (simply marked Canyon), the Rockies, and the sprawling great lakes (though now it's a small, land-locked body of water labeled Greatest Lake).
The Regal Refinery is in almost the exact center of the land in a neutral territory called Ashland. Just north occupying most of Cedar Ridge region, black mountaintops are etched into the map, captioned Mystic Mountain Range. They span across the entire northern territory from east to west coast. My fingers trace along the longest foot route in all the Five Lands, Old York Trail.
I decoded some markings –thick forests, treacherous terrain, and a particularly perturbing warning for 'Wild Beast Dwellings'. I drew a red line through the riverroad that leads to the base of the mountains, remembering William's caveat to avoid the area.
In addition to the crossed out travel route, I penciled in possible alternative paths all leading to one place: Montgomery. I don't have much of a plan yet, and I'm not sure where I'll end up, but I know where I'm starting.
A light switches on in the hallway and a stream of yellow pours into my room through the crack in my door.
"Evelyn?" Charlotte's soft voice travels down the hallway. "Are you awake?"
Damn.
I swipe everything from my bed and in one swift motion am at my closet, stowing my knapsack.
"Yes?" My voice sounds annoyed –something I hope she does not pick up.
"What are you doing up at this hour?" Charlotte whispers outside my bedroom door, which I now regret leaving ajar.
"I'm getting to bed now. I couldn't sleep so I left the light on." I lie.
"Is everything okay?"
"Yes. I'm fine." A lump swells in my throat.
How am I going to do this?
A shadow flickers across the floor and for a second I think she is leaving. No such luck.
"You know, Evelyn, it would be an injustice not to express my admiration," Charlotte mutters. "You've come so far and grown so much. I only wish I had more to give you."
Where is this coming from? It sounds almost as if she is saying goodbye. It sounds almost as if she knows what I'm about to do. I should say something, but I don't have any words left for her.
YOU ARE READING
ARRIVAL (ERA 1)
FantasyWhat if time chose you? After a tragic and untimely accident, young Evelyn arrives in an afterlife unlike anything she could have imagined. The year is 2701, in a distant land once known as the continent of North America. It is a land for fairytales...
