Chapter One

When she concentrated, Simone Lang realized what woke her was the whining—a high-pitched variable tone that, while barely audible, sliced through her mental fog. She rolled toward the sound, eyelids too heavy to lift, unable to dredge up the energy to do more. Amorphous thoughts drifted away from consciousness, warm comfort cradling her.

A dissatisfied grunt interrupted her brief tranquility, followed by movement and a faint ticking noise that drifted away to her left. The healthy slurping that followed reminded her bladder how long it had been since her last beer. She felt the corners of her mouth turn down, the urge to cover her head with a pillow not as insistent as the growing demand to urinate. Another whine, slightly louder than the last to compensate for the increased distance, pulled her closer to consciousness.

“Okay.” She pried open one eye. “I’m up.”

Her rough, sleep-furred voice triggered a scurry of ticking, Chester’s muscled canine body bustling toward her in a paroxysm of delight at the discovery that his mistress was alert. He stood and put his front paws on the edge of the high platform bed to joyously wash Simone’s face.

“Ugh! Stop!” She rolled onto her back, away from the doggie-breath bath. Her hands reached out and massaged Chester’s cheeks and neck, taking extra care to scratch beneath his collar. “I’m up.” The pit bull got in a few extra sloppy kisses before she said the magic words: “Do you want to go outside?”

He promptly abandoned her for the van’s side door, his entire backside wagged by his eager tail. Apparently, the insistence of his bladder on being emptied without further ado was akin to that of hers.

Simone scrubbed her face and sat up, flipping on the overheads to combat the dimness. Squinting at the brightness of the LED lights, she eased out of the high bed and onto the cool floor.

Chester danced impatiently at the side door, his light-blue eyes aglow with excitement.

“Hold on. I’ve got to check outside.”

She peeled aside the blackout screen and peered out the window at the foot of her bed. The small clearing and fire pit appeared undisturbed from last night. The Okanogan Wenatchee National Forest created a lush green backdrop beyond. Crossing the van floor, she pushed past the front curtain separating her living space from the windshield. The dirt road she’d followed to the middle of nowhere was clear.

“Well, it looks like we don’t have neighbors.” She smiled at Chester. “Stick close, buddy. If someone shows up, we’ll have to leash you.”

Chester’s whine became a soft woof as she unlocked and opened the side door. He bolted out to do his business.

Simone slipped her feet into her boots and followed. Though the sun was up, it would be hours before its rays would reach this rustic campsite. Sunlight graced the tops of the trees. She glanced to her right and confirmed no one had parked behind them in the night. Good. That meant she could do her business too.

After washing up and closing the drawer that housed her composting toilet, Simone propped open both side doors to keep tabs on Chester—nose locked to the ground as he snuffled his way around their fire pit. She enjoyed a morning stretch and began her daily routine. Dry kibble pinged Chester’s stainless-steel bowl and commanded his immediate attention. He leaped back into the van to snack while Simone poured him fresh water.

With the dog back inside the van, she closed the doors and changed from her pajamas. Once properly dressed, she removed and put away all the window coverings. The second time she opened the doors, she clipped Chester’s leash to his collar and attached it to the tie-down ring welded into the vehicle frame for that purpose. He had ten feet of leash to roam, more than he needed to keep active yet restricted enough to remain safe from predators. He retrieved his soup bone from the front seat and settled beneath the van to gnaw.

Simone’s stomach reminded her of her priorities. She brought out her camp stove and used the fold-down work station installed on her side door to start breakfast outside.

The sky brightened, and cool mountain air began to warm. Seated on the floor of the van, boots dangling over the side, she ate scrambled eggs and had a cup of coffee, watched avidly by Chester, who had scooted halfway out from beneath the van, alert for leftovers.

Simone figured that they were somewhere near Huckleberry Mountain. They’d been in Washington state since April and in these woods a little over a week. They still had a decent amount of food but not enough water. Her tanks only held a frugal two weeks’ worth. A sniff at her shirt informed her that a laundry trip wouldn’t be amiss either.

“What do you think, Chester? Shall we head into town today?”

Chester cocked his white-and-tan head, a doggie grin on his face and avarice in his eyes.

Simone took a final bite of her breakfast and set the now cool pan on the ground. Chester happily cleaned up the leftovers. “I think that’s a good idea. Grab some water, top off the gas tank, and wash our clothes and bedding. Maybe I’ll be able to find a shower too.”

The pit bull woofed in agreement.

She laughed at the literal egg on his face and retrieved the pan. With practiced movements, she dismantled and put away the propane stove, and wiped down and flipped up the work station to reveal the storage cubby beneath. Using water from a stashed gallon jug there, she scrubbed the pan, then took a tour around the van’s exterior, squatting to look underneath the frame for anything out of the ordinary. The tires remained in good condition, no rust had developed since the morning before, and she counted herself lucky. She’d lived in Bessie for seven years now and, other than a transmission problem early in their travels together, the vehicle had treated her well.

“Ready to go, buddy?”

Chester got to his feet and shook himself before climbing into the van.

“Hey! What about your bone?”

The dog’s ears perked at the familiar word. He glanced quickly around and leapt out to retrieve his bone, wrestling with it to indicate who was boss.

Simone laughed as he jumped back inside. She unleashed him, released the door catches, and closed both doors. Examining their impromptu camp, she confirmed that the fire of the previous evening was completely out. Sunlight crawled down the trees, and the smell of pine swelled in the warming air. She inhaled deeply of the aroma, a smile on her face.

Chester barked from inside.

“All right! I’m coming.” She circled the front of the van and climbed into the driver’s seat.

Simone congratulated herself for investing in the lift kit and industrial shocks last year. Though she and Chester had left their campsite over an hour ago, they still hadn’t made their way off the tiny logging roads to pavement. The van rocked back and forth on the backcountry road but not nearly as extremely as it had before she’d upgraded her rig. Prior to the improvements, a road like this meant that many of her possessions would have been flying from the cabinets to the floor.

She took it slow as she drove, both windows open to savor the crisp fresh air. Chester hung out the passenger side, happily watching the forest pass and occasionally attempting to take bites out of the greenery if it strayed too close. For her part, Simone attempted to protect her side mirror and roof rack above from errant branches. At this rate, the van would need another round with the spray paint can.

The trees opened up, and she spotted two other rubber tramps—nomads on wheels like herself—in makeshift camps. One was a beat-up blue van and the other an ancient Class C RV that had to be older than her. The van dweller sat at his fire. She gave him an acknowledging wave, which he returned. Whoever was in the RV remained hidden from sight.

Simone was migrating up from a winter in Nevada and Arizona, en route to northern climes and higher altitudes as the weather warmed. This year she’d decided not to pick up a summer camp host job. Being around people was difficult enough without having to act like she liked them. Swabbing toilets, cleaning out fire pits, and demanding campsite payments wasn’t worth the wage or the free camp spot that came with it. Besides, weekenders were demanding assholes.

Her next employment gig wouldn’t begin until early September in Redlands, California. She had hired on to work at an Internet company’s fulfillment center for the Christmas season, a guaranteed fourteen-week job. This would be her sixth year there, and the funds would pull her through until the Quartzsite job fair next January. There were no big plans this summer—just lazing around the country and seeing the sights with her trusty pit bull.

Well. Maybe one plan.

“What do you reckon, Chester? Think we can find Refuge this year?”

Chester grinned, tail wagging.

“That would be something, wouldn’t it?” She’d searched for Refuge for a decade—a fabled place where people like her would be safe, free to live their lives without fear of harassment by those who didn’t or wouldn’t understand.

At fifteen, Simone had run away from a father who couldn’t accept that his child was one of the unfortunate few who had genetically mutated at puberty. That year, an estimated thousand teenagers in the United States had transformed like Simone, abruptly gifted with powers that ranged from lighting a lamp with the touch of a finger to firing a ball of electricity big enough to decimate a family homestead.

The sheer number of mutated children had overwhelmed the country despite being barely a thousandth of a percent of the total population. The United States wasn’t the only country affected either. The children—eventually referred to as Variants—crossed all borders and all socioeconomic boundaries.

It was during those horrible months on her own that Simone had first heard rumors about Refuge. She’d followed the whispers, arriving at a commune in Pennsylvania called the Enclave. The commune leader, Celeste, had insisted that Refuge was a place for all young Variants. No one would be turned away.

But before these ragtag exiles from home and hearth could leave for the so-called promised land, local townsfolk attacked the Enclave. They killed or arrested many of the commune members and the desperate Variants seeking a haven. The leader, Celeste, was imprisoned on multiple charges of kidnapping, aiding and abetting felons, and any other accusations the authorities could conjure up.

Simone had barely escaped with her life. She’d been on the road searching for Refuge ever since. Meanwhile seasons turned, and humanity had gotten somewhat accustomed to random teenagers developing bizarre abilities. That didn’t mean it was accepting of them. Draconian laws and federal organizations had been created to counteract the danger. The mutation occurrences remained stable at .0003 percent of all births annually. Scientists hadn’t yet resolved any of the questions: what had originally caused the mutations, how to stop them, and how to genetically test for modifications in advance. Like many peoples before them, Variants were persecuted worldwide for something over which they had no control.

“It is what it is, as Dad would say.”

Chester looked sharply over his shoulder at her.

Simone laughed. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt your sightseeing. Carry on.”

He cocked his tan-and-white head at her until a sound or smell distracted him. Then he woofed out the window.

Yeah, finding Refuge was akin to looking for the Holy Grail. Simone could only hope that she’d be Percival.