Julia
Epilogue

Disclaimers, etc. in Headers



St. Louis, Missouri
July 25, 2001
12:32 p.m.


The heat was oppressive in the train station,
despite the fans that blew the stench of
unwashed bodies across the cavernous room.  Men
of every size and shape milled about, most of
them beefy like lumberjacks.  He felt almost out
of place in the swirl of testosterone, skinny
and useless.  But he knew it had to begin
somewhere and this was the place.

A rumble of the latest departure vibrated
through his shoes, urging him forward.  He
pulled the Yankees cap low over his forehead and
ignored the trickle of sweat that ran down his
back.  His shoulder-length hair and full beard
didn't help matters, but it was necessary.  Even
with the coverup, he felt exposed, like a
thousand eyes were watching his every move.

Hands in his jacket pockets, he moved forward in
the line, hearing the murmurs of excitement all
around him.

"Gonna make millions."

"Gonna set myself up nice."

"Hey, asshole - don't cut in line!"

At that one, a skirmish broke out just a few
feet away.  He flinched, but didn't move,
knowing security would be there shortly, and
they were, hauling off the two fighters amidst
curses and a blast of hot air.

Just look straight ahead, he told himself.  Keep
your eyes on the prize.

He fingered the paper in his pocket, the forgery
that his friends had supplied.  Though they
thought his quest impossible, they couldn't
refuse him, even going so far as to join him. 
But they were catching other trains this week,
branching out to the ends of this land in the
same search.  He was going west, simply because
that's where his heart was telling him to go.

At last, he faced the scruffy man behind the
steel cage.  "Name?"  The man didn't even look
up as he barked the question, writing furiously
on the clipboard before him.

Clearing his throat, he replied, "Gabriel."

"Gabriel what?"

"Nothing.  Just Gabriel."

The man's eyes snapped up, narrowing on
Gabriel's face.  "Do I know you?"

Gabriel shifted on his feet, looking away.  "No. 
I don't think so."

Was this how she felt as she started that final
journey?  The butterflies in his stomach were
making him nauseous, but he stood his ground,
willing this to pass so he could get on with it.

The station master shrugged, looking back to his
forms.  "Ever done any mining work?"

Gabriel thought back to Tunguska, to the way his
hands had bled from the sharp rocks, to the way
his back had screamed in pain and refused to
straighten at night.  "Yeah, some."

Cold gray eyes swept him from head to toe in
disbelief.  "Where?"

"Tunguska.  Russia."

Where a massive digging operation was still
underway, he knew.  Except this time, they
didn't toss aside the rocks they dug up.

The man snorted.  "No wonder you're a bag
o'bones."  He passed the clipboard under the
opening.  "Sign here."

Gabriel couldn't help the grimace that twisted
his lips when he raised his right arm. 
Thankfully, the station master didn't notice,
and Gabriel ignored the twinge of pain in his
shoulder as he gripped the pen.

"Six month contract," the man droned.  "Every
Sunday off.  You skip out, the company can hunt
you down, got it?"

Gabriel nodded, struggling with the pen.  His
writing was sloppy, and when he was done, he let
the pen go and fisted his trembling hand, hoping
the disability wasn't pronounced.

Like the company would really care, he thought. 
All they needed was warm bodies, and he knew
that dozens of men were lost to famine and
accidents each week in the mines.  They'd take
anyone they could get, which made it perfect for
his needs.

He gave the clipboard back and was told in
dismissal, "Track 34.  Train leaves in ten
minutes.  Payday the last day of each month."  A
flash of narrowed eyes, then, "And either cut
that hair or pull it back.  Too dangerous."

As he walked away, Gabriel pulled a piece of
yellow ribbon from his pocket.  He held it up to
his face and breathed deep; it still smelled of
her.

<You could use my ribbon.>

Sighing, he pulled his hair back and tied it
with the ribbon, keeping his chin down as he
maneuvered through the throng, following the
cardboard signs to Track 34.

The noonday sun was scathing, but he stayed
under the overhang by the track, seeking shade
like all the rest who waited for the train.  A
far off whistle signaled its approach, and he
felt relief course through him.  Almost there,
he was almost there.

The urge to chase after her had been eating at
him for months now, but his recovery had been
slow without her healing hands.  Even now, the
puckered skin was red and he had trouble
sleeping at night from the ache.  It didn't help
that the left side of his chest hurt as much, if
not more, than the wounded right.

That pain was constant and unforgiving, tweaking
his heart as if crying out for her.

Again, his hand moved to his pocket and he
tugged at the crumpled, slick paper, resisting
the urge to look at it.  He'd memorized every
line, every curve, ever since the Gunmen had
given it to him not long after her
disappearance.  They explained that the digital
photo had popped up in the download of data from
his father's computers.  It was the only one he
had.  It was precious.  It was priceless.

Reverently, he pulled it from his pocket as the
train appeared around the corner.  Holding it in
his left hand, he traced the shaking fingers of
his right over the color that was still vivid,
despite the tears he'd shed over it.

Fathomless eyes that matched the midnight blue
of the dress gazed up at him and his breath
hitched.  She wasn't smiling; she looked lost,
as if she wasn't herself.

She wasn't, he knew.  Despite what his friends
said, she wasn't Julia.

"That the wife?" a voice said next to him.

Startled, he fisted the photograph and glanced
at the man next to him.  "Uh..."  What to say? 
"Yeah."  Leave me alone, he begged silently.

The man next to him squinted at the train. 
"You're lucky.  Not many women around these
days."

Women were a hot commodity, worth more than
money.  But it took money to get a woman.

"Yeah, I'm gonna make some money," the man
continued.  "Get me a piece of farmland and
raise a passel o'kids.  All I need is to find me
a woman."

Gabriel's heart tripped in his chest, shouting
out in pain.

<Ten kids, Scully.  Twenty.  As many as you
think we can feed.>

He began to walk away to the slowing train.

All he needed was her... his truth.



End Epilogue
End of "Julia"

Beginning of "Gabriel"


December 13, 2001


For Mom.