I might have to hire out as an Attendant when I first get to the city, or possibly work with one of the protection crews the Chinese run, although I am not certain they accept women. But either position would only be temporary. My heart is set on being a businesswoman.
It is that single, small dream that has kept me going over the past few months. I dare not lose it now.
Carolina draws deeply on his cigar, the sweet smoke filling the room. “How’d you get so smart?”
“A girl has to survive. It is a cruel world,” I say.
Carolina nods, and once more we sit in companionable silence for a long moment, before Carolina says quietly, “We friends, Katherine?”
I laugh, because that is what you do when a man says something ridiculous. But I am not thinking about him. For a moment my breath flees, and my chest tightens. I am overwhelmed by memory, screams of terror and the moans of the dead. I think of Jane, of the last words she said to me.
Thank you for being my friend.
And then I let her die.
I clear my throat, bringing my mind back to the conversation at hand. “Well, since you have neither proposed nor propositioned me, I am willing to consider that we may indeed be friends.”
He contemplates the end of his lit cigar, avoiding my steady gaze. “If we’re pals, then that means I can give you some advice.”
My amusement evaporates. I have had quite enough of men and their advice in my eighteen years. “You can try.”
Carolina runs his finger along the bottom of his mustache. It is a familiar motion, one I have seen often when he is thinking on a complicated situation. “We’re going to be in San Francisco in three days.”
“That is what we have all been told,” I say, my words clipped.
Jane wanted to go to California to find her mother. Perhaps that is why I have found myself on a ship bound for the Golden State. An ache blossoms in my chest, and I pick up my untouched glass of whiskey and drain it. The liquid tastes as smoky as my memories and burns all the way down. It feels like penance. That is the real reason I do not drink too often: I am afraid that if I find my way to the bottle I will be lost forever.
I shake my head to clear it; I know exactly what Carolina is going to say. “Your offer is generous, but I must refuse. I have business in California.”
Carolina sets his cigar in a nearby ashtray before leaning forward over the table. “So now you’re a mind reader?”
“You want to know if I will stay on with you. Keep working security for the Capitán.”
He says nothing for a few heartbeats. From outside the galley comes feminine laughter and a man’s answering rumble, followed by echoing footsteps. It is late, and people are settling in. No one lacks for company on the Capitán, if they are looking for it.
“It’s a chilly night,” he says. “How do you know I won’t ask you to come and keep me warm? When was the last time you went for a tumble, Kate?”
I snort, manners forgotten for the moment. “Do not call me that. And stop trying to provoke me. We both know that there is nothing I can offer that you want. If you are lonely, you should go find Dr. Nelson’s valet. He was very complimentary of your facial hair.”
Carolina laughs. “It is a very fine mustache,” he says, smoothing the waxed ends, which curl up like catfish whiskers. Humor is always bubbling beneath the surface in him, whether relaxing after a game of poker or knee-deep in lake water fighting the dead. It is insufferable. And yet, it’s one of the reasons I am overly fond of him. He reminds me of Jane.
“Stop being coy and ask your damn question so I can retire,” I say. I am tired and out of sorts, the memories that I have tried so hard to bury are too near and too real. Even the money we have won tonight is not enough to loosen the hard knot of rage that has been festering in my middle since leaving Nicodemus. I have replayed my time there again and again in my mind, trying to find ways things could have turned out differently.
I have been unsuccessful.
“I know you intend to go to California, set up a business, maybe find your friend’s momma,” Carolina starts, choosing his words carefully. “And I think that’s admirable. But what makes you think you’ll be happy there?”
I pick up my whiskey glass and put it to my lips, only to remember that it is empty. I settle for sliding it across the table from hand to hand. “What makes you think I will be unhappy?”
Carolina leans back in his chair. “I think you’re running, Katherine. There’s a haunted expression you wear when you think no one is watching. And I want to help you, because you’ve been a great partner to me these past few months. Hell, I’ve come to look on you and Sue as sisters. Working regular on a ship like the Capitán offers protections against many of the dangers faced by those back on land. Ones you witnessed firsthand. You could be safe on this ship. Here. With me.”
I smile tightly, but say nothing. He is trying to protect me, in the simple way men are always trying to protect women: by stealing away their freedom.
I know he thinks a lady with a face like mine would be putting herself at risk, trying to make it in a city like San Francisco on her own. Men and women have coveted my beauty ever since I was a girl. But because of Jane and Fort Riley I now know how to wield it like a sharp blade. And it is a weapon I am willing to use, if I must.
Before traveling west, I took Jane’s advice and went back home. That is, once I managed to extricate myself from Fort Riley. The ruse I had used to get us safely to the compound had served us well enough, but when we arrived, Ida and her folks had lit out for the Lost States, back to their homes. It had been a loss, but then Ida was Jane’s friend, and with Jane gone, well, there was really nothing keeping us together.
It was nearly a week before Sue, Lily, and I were able to make our way out of Fort Riley. The soldiers there were quite taken with us, colored and white alike, but we left with our virtue intact. That probably had more to do with our bladed weapons, an overabundance of caution, and extraordinarily good luck than any sort of chivalry on the soldiers’ part.
Once we cleared the gates, we headed straight for the Mississippi and were lucky enough to meet only a few shamblers along the way. We found an abandoned boat not far from where we met the river, and within a week, we had reached the bayous around New Orleans. When I was thirteen, I ran away from the city, or at least tried to, landing myself in those bayous, which were outside the safety of the walls.
And it was there in those bayous, both familiar and strange, that I grieved for Jane. I trained with the Laveau girls once more and considered our next steps, and what would be best for the three of us. Sue found a book about California and how to travel there, and after I had read a bit of it out loud to all of us, she convinced us that that ought to be our destination. Everything seemed to indicate that the Golden State had been nearly free of the restless dead for years, most especially San Francisco. The high walls, designed by the modern genius Thomas Edison, were the stuff of legend, an impenetrable defense against the dead. And after decades of fierce policing and constant Army intervention in the countryside, all of California was a paradise free of ravenous hordes. The land was beautiful and serene, and the combined obstacles of the Rocky Mountains and the Sierra Nevadas kept the undead from traveling overland into the Golden State, for the most part. Jane had asked me to look out for Lily, and everything we read about California seemed to indicate it was a brand-new kind of place. The restless dead were a minor nuisance and not a plague, which meant that San Francisco had to be a better place.