The Sorcerer's Secret, Chapter 3

Jackson, Capitol County, Tennessee

September 26, 2020

The drive to Jackson had been slower than Coryn had expected it to be, and much less energy-efficient than he was used to. Apparently Americans were practically sold to oil and gas conglomerates and pretty much against solar energy, though hydroelectricity was popular in the South, according to Luna.

"The Tennessee Valley Authority helped make the whole state the go-to place for people to get back on their feet," the woman had said just as they'd crossed into Chattanooga. "It's really kept us going these past few years. The South's stayed strong, despite the fascists."

Fascists, his mind echoed. I wasn't alive when fascism was brought to an end back home... Where else is this a problem?

"How bad is it out west?" Coryn asked.

"Rather gruesome," Luna admitted, poking her husband as he started to nod off. "If even half the reports we've received are true, Jews, non-whites, non-heterosexuals... none are spared."

Just like what Jaques and Calcitrop did, Coryn thought. No, not like what they did... Less than 10 million alive worldwide. More than 200 million alive in just this country. But still... this is bad for them. The worst they've been through... Coryn pushed his thoughts aside and quickly changed the subject. "So, uh-- your father works in the government?"

Luna nodded proudly. "Yes, he does. Well-- sort of. It's... complicated."

"Try me," the Belecthorian replied, wringing his hands as his gray eyes smiled at her. Nothing could be more complicated than his government back home.

"He was a Congressman before the nukes, a Senator after the nukes, temporarily Secretary of War and-slash-or Defense, but then he quit and while he's technically jobless, he's running for president."

"That's it?" Coryn asked involuntarily. "My grandfa--" Immediately, he bit his tongue, literally. Stupid, stupid, stupid, he thought. "Er-- he never did that much, but he worked in many different capacities."

"Like what?" Luna inquired.

"He was, um... a lawyer for a long time. A judge, prosecutor, other law-related things." He also became a fascist warlord that nearly wiped out all non-Allegorian life on the planet didn't seem like the right thing to say. It wasn't his fault that his grandmother had been forced to be a wife to that madman, nor was it his father's fault that he was born to the madman himself. Coryn's father, Jean-Noël, had said he, his mother, and one of their servants had escaped and gone into the West, but he wasn't sure if he believed that. "He also served in several advisory positions."

"That's interesting," the woman replied. "Did you know him very well?"

Coryn shook his head, grateful he wouldn't have to lie this time. "He died before I was born. My father didn't speak fondly of him, but one of my cousins focused on the good things my grandfather did."

"I'm sorry," Luna replied sorrowfully, sympathy flooding her leaf green eyes. "I'm sure he was a good man."

Coryn turned and looked out the window. He didn't speak again until they reached Jackson.

Jackson had been much smaller than Coryn had anticipated. Back home, capitals had been booming population and cultural centers, the heartlands of music, trade, and (of course) knowledge. Jackson was... none of that. It was on the smaller side of things with about 80,000 living in the city, many of whom were construction workers, soldiers, or embassy officials. The town's infrastructure was simple and bland, and the roads were in dire shape. Everything looked old, apart from a few buildings on the outskirts of town. Even their Capitol Building looked ancient.

"So, uh, how far are we from Memphis?" he asked.

"About 87 miles," Alistair answered snappishly. "Too far for me to drive today, tomorrow, or whenever."

"Alistair," Luna grumbled. "Hush."

The bear-like man sighed and rested his head on the top of his steering wheel. "Where the hell is the green light?"

Coryn zoned them both out for a minute. Once he got to Memphis, what was he supposed to do? "Seek the orange blossom and the hibiscus within... these words will help you for you have trials to win..." But then Sinestra also said that I needed to go to Memphis. There are 800,000 people living there. How the hell am I supposed to figure out what I'm supposed to do?

"Coryn?" Luna's voiced pulled him out of his thoughts. "Did you hear me?"

"Hmm? Oh, sorry-- no," he admitted. "What did you say?"

They'd pulled over at a large apartment building made of brick. The area was seemingly lifeless. "This is where we live," she said. "I'm going to run and grab the mail, and then we're going to see if we can't get you a bus to Memphis." She got out of the car and went inside, returning a few minutes later. Grinning, she patted Alistair's hands gently. "The kids took Dad to Memphis to see the zoo."

Alistair dropped his head on the steering wheel and gently tapped is head against it a few times. "Please... someone... else... drive..."

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To Alistair's pleasure, Luna has driven the final stretch of Coryn's route. The house they had come to was medium-sized with two floors, a large porch, and a white picket fence surrounding the yard on all sides. According to a girl that called herself Emma, it wasn't too far from the heart of the city.

Coryn stared at the evening sky, its reds and oranges reminding him of the potions that he'd brewed in class with Madam Tamriel, or the juice of sweet berries he'd have with his breakfast each morning. Closer to a wide river with shallow banks, a bridge reached across to the other side, as if to extend friendship to the west. On this side of the river, he noticed a bronze pyramid shining brightly beneath the evening sun, its bronze panels sparkling like crystals. The smell of burning turkey nipped at his nose as he felt the plastic of his lawn chair beneath his fingers. Silently, he absorbed in everything that was going on around him.

"I found him with Mom and Dad." That had been Emma's voice whispering to her grandfather, Mr. William McHale. She was blonde-haired and green-eyed like her mother, but taller, and her face was more heart-shaped. He was a stocky old man with pepper-specked white hair and a rimmed beard and round blue eyes. "Grandpa, he sounds like a Southerner, but his accent's off. it might just be because he's from Florida--"

"Honey, Florida's always been a hot mess," McHale replied firmly. "I dunno if we can trust him just yet, but for now, he's staying with us. What was his name again?"

Can't remember my name, eh? Coryn thought. Think I can't hear you? But he remained silent.

"Williams," Emma answered roughly, like the name was poison in her mouth, "Coryn Williams. Mom and Dad told me how they met him... said they found him half-dead in a patch of mud along I-75. I think they said it was near Valdosta-- that used to be in Georgia. He makes me feel... wary."

"Wary?" McHale asked.

Footsteps sounded at the doorway, and Luna came out, coughing up a storm. "Alistair burned the turkey," she hacked. "He says he forgot how to use the oven!"

Before he could think about it, Coryn said, "I can cook! I might even be able to salvage your turkey." He cracked a small smile, trying to push away what Emma had said about him.

"You can?" Luna queried, eyes growing wide.

"As a teacher of mine once said, The world is but a canvas for one's imagination: if you test its limits in any way, you will always change where the line is drawn." Would Tamriel approve of me sharing that quote, he wondered.

Grunting, McHale said, "That sounds like a Thoreau quote, but different."

"Who's Thoreau?" Coryn asked. He made his way to the door. After he was inside, Luna gently shut it behind them.

"Henry Thoreau was a philosopher from Concord during the Civil War," she explained. "In an essay he wrote called Civil Disobedience, he made an argument as to why people should rebel against what he called an unjust state."

"And was it unjust?" Coryn inquired, eager to be learning something new. "The, er-- the state, I mean."

Luna tilted her head back and forth. "I suppose that depends on who you ask. No nation's perfect, some are better than others... I guess it all relies on your beliefs."

Sounds like something Michael would've said, Coryn thought to himself. As Luna stepped into another room, he glanced around to see if anyone was watching. He snapped his fingers, and a knife came to life, slicing off pieces of edible turkey and dicing them into smaller bits. He looked through a cabinet and found a pie plate as the turkey continued to be cut. As soon as he heard another footstep, he made the knife stop cutting and turned around.

"That was fast," Luna said, surprised.

"Like I said," Coryn quipped back as he glanced at the small pile of turkey that had begun to grow, "I can cook."

With a smile on her face and welcoming fire in her eyes, Luna replied, "That you can."