Eighteen

After some final questioning by Ember, Bumbarta told them he thought the Map Makers had headed "north", meaning "up the lake" as he pointed. Barque didn't need to be told twice, and sprinted off in that direction. The others followed. No sooner were they out of sight than Bumbarta waved his arms around in the air, and within minutes was surrounded by his entire collection of watchers.
"Keep with him," he requested. "Take it in shifts or whatever works best, as long as at least one of you is tracking each of them at all times. There can be no mistakes. This is what we've been waiting for all along."
The Watchers glanced at each other with eyebrows raised and shrugs. None of them had been waiting for anything that they knew of, other than the next game to play. Bumbarta had rambled into thoughtfulness but emerged with the realization he'd been talking to himself.
"Gold stars!" he recovered, remembering his audience. "Multiple stars for those who bring back the story I most want to hear. The way out!"
"Don't forget!" he shouted as they scrambled after the four. "Stay close, stay covered, stay alert. Gold stars! Real gold!"
"Well, maybe not real gold," he murmured to himself after the Watchers had gone. He often wondered how many of his Watchers were fooled by the shiny pebble bits he glued onto them with a paste of his own devising. Most of them weren't the sharpest, he knew, but little Soma? Maybe she was just playing along. It was likely. There were thoughts in the brain of that one, at least.
And maybe there were, but Soma wasn't particularly interested. She was out for the joy of it, and she let her crew know that Ember was hers. The others could pick who they wanted, but she would stay close to her double. She'd been struck by the similarities at their earlier encounter, but even more by the differences. There was power, she felt, in that little one, power she thought she could maybe acquire. She wondered just how she could get it as she swung herself into the trees. Squee went along with her. He was certain that he would get stars just by being there.
Ember, meanwhile, was studying the map in her mind. It was shifting in ways she was not thrilled about. Smackers were conglomerating out near the caves, an area they usually avoided. That region, not far from them now, lay deep in the hills past the opposite shore of the lake. Face Painters lived there, a clan that tried to frighten off others. They made weapons from branches and arrowheads carved out of rock, weapons that served no purpose at all. No one felt threatened by them. The Face Painters jumped up and shouted, and thought they were scary, but most people just turned away from annoyance. They had come up with their own way of talking as well, not quite a new language but a series of grunts and ridiculous sounds. There weren't many of them, maybe twenty in all. Ember wondered why Smackers would go there. It didn't seem right.
At the same time, Barque had slowed down. He wanted to ask something of Baudry.
"That man Gowdy," he asked, "were his books any good?"
"Sure," Baudry said, "if you like that sort of thing, where there's a detective who solves every case."
"I think I would like it," Barque considered, rubbing his chin. "It's just been so long since I read anything."
"I do miss books," Baudry nodded. "Maybe it's only a matter of time until we start making paper around here. We probably have the materials we need."
"I wouldn't know," Barque admitted. "Even so, would anyone bother?"
"To write, you mean?"
"Yeah. Why would they?" Barque really wanted to know, but Baudry didn't have an answer. He knew that people did stuff because, well, because people like to do stuff. Here in this world there was no money in it, no possible reward, no tangible goals. You'd just have to write for the fun of it. And then what? You could give it away, if anyone wanted it.
"I doubt it will happen," he said. They were walking ahead of the women and followed a path that led around a giant Sequoia. At that point, the men disappeared.
"Now where'd they go?" Edeline asked. She'd been only a few steps behind them, and was listening in on their talk. It hadn't occurred to her yet that there were no books in this place. She'd simply assumed that somehow, somewhere, there must be a house or a building where everything was just like it should be, with electricity, books, TV and radio, mattresses, blankets and ice cream. She'd come here with nothing, it's true, but surely not everyone did. Somebody must have had something!
"Who knows?" Ember grumbled, coming up last. She was tired of Barque's ways, his leaving them behind only to wait up whenever he needed them. It was like raising a teenager, who only comes home to get money or ask for the keys to the car.
"Sixteen", she cursed, "rotten egg."
"They were right here in front of me," Edeline said, stopping in the middle of the path so that Ember would have to halt too.
"Baudry was talking about books," she went on. "They came around here and then poof. I thought I could hear him for a moment, then nothing."
Ember peered ahead down the path, which was straight and clear for a while. There was no sign of the men. She flopped down on the ground and raised her right hand, index finger pointing up.
"I'll check on the map," she declared. "I need silence for that."
Edeline sat down beside her and kept her mouth closed. She watched as Ember screwed up her face in way that made her look wrinkled all over. She balled up her fists and her body began trembling and shaking. Edeline hadn't seen this act before. It looked like Ember was holding her breath now, and turning bright red. Edeline began to be worried. Was the girl epileptic, having a fit? What should she do? What could she do? Something about tongues being swallowed was all she could think of.
Suddenly Ember exhaled, and opened her eyes.
"They didn't go anywhere," Ember said. "We did."