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"Everybody wants to rule the world." - Tears For Fears

**

"No one knows what's going on in Pennsylvania, anymore." Duncan folded up the newspaper and placed it, casually, under his soda.

"We knew they had roadblocks along their border," I pointed out. "And now there're rumors they're starting to keep folks out completely."

"Not that it matters," Duncan said. "We don't need to drive through Pennsylvania. We can go south, to Millston - I know someone who might still live there. From there, we can get on Highway 600, and that should take us to Baltimore."

We had picked up a huge sack of cheeseburgers and fries - how American is that? - and then we'd gotten back on the freeway. A few minutes later, we pulled over at one of those "scenic overlook" parks - and this one didn't disappoint. We sat at a faded picnic table, and as we ate cheeseburgers and fries, we looked out at the gorgeous vista of a valley that stretched on and on into the distance. And the ground sloped sharply down, too, after a certain point, so it almost felt like we were on top of a cliff, or something. This was a side of New Jersey I'd never seen before.

Celeste had handed out bottles of Coke, but Rav and I had each opened a beer.

"After Baltimore, who knows . . ." Celeste said, staring off into the distance.

"Whatever news we get, these days, is mostly rumor," Duncan said, glancing down at the newspaper. "So, yes, we don't know how things are past Baltimore."

Rav had a dab of mustard on his chin. Before I could point it out, Celeste grabbed a napkin and cleaned it up.

"Habit," she said, simply. Then she looked at me, and elaborated. "Rav and I dated, briefly, for like, five minutes - back when we were kids."

"Hah!" Rav laughed. "We weren't kids, we were twenty. Well, _I _was twenty. You were -"

"Don't say it," Celeste interrupted, with a smile. She looked at Micah. "Human culture says being young is better than being old. Right? Well, my _culture says the opposite. Old is better, according to elves. I'm - well - barely into my thirties. Back home, there are tons of ancient elves clucking their tongues and wagging their fingers at all the _'young' elves like me."

"Where's home?" Micah asked.

"Somewhere in Colorado," Celeste replied, casually. "I haven't been there in years."

Suddenly curious about something, I asked her, "Have you done your pilgrimage yet?"

"No," she said, with a sigh, running a hand through her mohawk. "Those ancient elves I just mentioned would probably say I'm too young. Hah! Well, fuck 'em. I think I might call this trip my pilgrimage. I might not. But, fuck, we're going all the way to the west coast - with the passenger trains no longer running, and the country falling apart. Yeah, I just might call this whole thing my pilgrimage, once we're done."

**

We eventually found out how things were in Millston. As we drove along the freeway, we could see towns and villages off in the distance, and they seemed normal. Then we took an exit, and drove into Millston, and that town did _not _seem normal.

It almost seemed like . . . like a center of chaos, though a controlled sort of chaos. Does that make any sense? We saw a large group of folks setting off fireworks - in the middle of the day - and drinking beer. They'd set up a keg, and a grill, and the whole thing seemed festive. Another group had started a bonfire (yes, in the middle of the day). Adults stood around the bonfire and chatted, while children threw things into the flames - bottles, pieces of furniture, toys, newspapers. Elsewhere, a flea market had expanded to include all sorts of activities. There were tables heaped with goods, sure, but there were also tattoo artists who'd set up booths or tables, and there were makeshift bars set up around kegs. Artists painted the nearly-nude bodies of humans. A slender, female Leopard was giving a demonstration on sexual techniques and positions. That flea market also had more than a few folks selling guns, and I saw a few bullseye targets set up here and there, casually.

We drove past street preachers, and prostitutes, and vendors who'd set up tables on the sidewalk, and a group of humans dressed in camouflage carrying the carcass of a large, feral deer.

Duncan glanced at Celeste, as she drove, then he looked at Rav.

"Did I ever tell the two of you about Father Cranagh?" Duncan asked.

Rav shook his head, but Celeste nodded.

"You told me he was your mentor, once," she said.

"Yes. If he's still here, we might have a place to stay the night. Turn here."

We started driving through Millston's suburbs. Things almost seemed more normal here, but not quite.

"No one went to work today?" I wondered.

There were a lot of folks - an equal mix of humans and anthros - gathered in small groups, in front of most of the houses. Some of those groups were clearly having a party, while other groups were simply having quiet get-togethers. I wondered why everyone was in their front yards. Maybe they were trying to turn the street into one big party? Or one big social scene. Or perhaps it was so folks could wander from one place to the other. I also wondered what sorts of things were happening in the hidden back yards. I'd grown up in the city, and I believed - without rational thought or proof - that everyone in the suburbs had a large back yard filled with grass and trees and who knew what all else - pools, maybe.

On one of the quieter streets, we saw an older human sitting in a lawn chair in his front yard. The chair was old and rickety. Next to the human, a stack of concrete blocks had been turned into a table - it held empty bottles and a cassette player. I noticed that the human was drinking a bottle of Seven Stars - Duncan's favorite beer.

Celeste parked the van in the driveway, and the human shut off the music. As Duncan disembarked from the passenger seat, the human rose up, a smile on his face.

"Ugh," Rav said, getting out of the van. The tall Lion looked at me.

"Damn, Jack," he said. "I turned into such a city boy. I'm not used to being in a vehicle, all cramped up, for this long."

"I know the feeling," I replied.

We stretched our arms and legs. We groaned, partly from real need and partly for comedic effect.

The human - William Cranagh - had short, gray hair and a gray beard. He had lines on his forehead, and lines radiating out from beneath his blue eyes. He and Duncan greeted each other warmly - they hugged, and patted each other on the back, and they both talked at the same time.

Eventually, Duncan introduced us.

"This is Celeste, and that's Rav," he told Cranagh. "I brought them into the fold a few years ago. I mentioned that, the last time I wrote to you, didn't I?" Father Cranagh nodded. "This is Jack," Duncan continued, waving a hand in my direction. "He just joined us, for our trip out west."

"West?" Cranagh's eyebrows shot up. "Does that mean . . .?"

"Yes," Duncan said with a nod. "I found him, Pere, I found the one. This is Micah."

I looked at Duncan. The big Pit Bull had a glow in his eyes I hadn't seen before. Usually, he kept his emotions hidden, tightly under control.

And Micah, the young human, stepped forward. Cranagh looked into Micah's eyes, and he shook his hand.

"You're young," Cranagh said, "But that's no bad thing. Tell me, son, if you don't mind humoring an old man - how do you feel about this whole thing?"

Micah opened his mouth, paused for a moment, then blurted out, "Overwhelmed." He blushed. Then he said, "That's not a bad thing, either, is it?"

'No, it is not." Cranagh studied Micah a moment. "Some folks would've run, you know. Rather than accept this gift - or burden. It's both, you know. Some would've run from it."

"I - I just couldn't," Micah stammered. "It didn't even occur to me."

Then Cranagh glanced over at Drake, the feral Doberman with the blue and black fur. He'd moved up, to stand by Micah's side.

"You're not from this world, are you?" Father Cranagh, his eyes bright and curious, directed the question to Drake.

"How did you know that?" Drake asked, surprised.

"I get feelings, sometimes. Intuition." Cranagh shrugged. "I've met others like you. Oh, yes."

Then he stepped back a pace, and he surveyed the group standing in front of him.

"We have a lot to talk about," he said. "Is anyone hungry?"

**

Father Cranagh insisted we park the van in the garage, even though it barely fit. Rav and I had to move a bunch of stuff out of the way.

He also asked us to call him Pere, as that was what his few friends called him.

He led us out to the back deck, where a large group of comfortable chairs sat in a circle. The back yard was small, but it had a few trees that provided shade. With Micah's help, Cranagh went into the kitchen to get sandwiches and lemonade.

"I'm still officially a priest," Cranagh said, answering an unspoken question. "They'd probably like to excommunicate me, they just haven't gotten around to filing the paperwork yet. And now, with the world the way it is, they have other things on their minds."

"What'd you do?" Rav asked.

"Rude question," Celeste said, giving Rav a playful nudge.

"I don't mind the question at all," Cranagh said. "Don't worry. I wasn't involved in a scandal, or anything like that. The Church doesn't like me because . . . I tend to be . . . outspoken, shall we say. Whenever I've disagreed with the Church on something, I've never kept it hidden."

"_And _you were highly critical of the last king," Duncan pointed out, with an amused smile. "Even though the Church supported him."

"He was a fool," Cranagh said, with a snort.

"_And _you preferred to spend your time helping the poorest folks in New York City, and you were a _very _vocal advocate for those folks."

"Yes, but I also spent a lot of time helping you look for the next king," Cranagh said, to Duncan. His expression turned sad, for a moment, then he collected himself. "I never really gave up, you know. I had faith in you, Duncan, I knew you'd find our next king - or queen, whichever it turned out to be. I'm sorry I left - it still bothers me that I left -"

"You already apologized for that, even though you didn't need to," Duncan interrupted. "I understand why you left."

"Thank you, my friend," Father Cranagh said. He looked around, at the rest of us. "Duncan, if you'll indulge an old man, I'd like to hear every single detail - no stone unturned! - of how you found Micah. However, that will have to wait. First, I have to tell you something."

"Oh?" Duncan raised an eyebrow. "That sounds ominous."

"I knew you were coming," Father Cranagh said, simply. "And, no, it wasn't due to some intuition of mine. I was at my favorite bar, last night, drinking the night away, as I sometimes do. It's within walking distance of here, you see, so I never worry about driving while plastered. Anyway, two men - humans - came up to me and asked if I'd seen you recently. I told them I had no idea who they were talking about. They didn't believe me, that much was obvious from their expressions, and one of them told me they'd be in town awhile, and I should let them know if I _were _to see you, in the future."

"Fuck," Celeste blurted out. "That's why you had us put the van in the garage."

"Yes," Cranagh said with a slight nod. He clutched his glass tightly. "Duncan, hardly anyone knows I'm here. The higher-ups in the Church think I'm still in New York. Obviously, the Church wouldn't tell anyone where I was - if you were to call them on the phone, and ask them where I was, they'd say they couldn't give out that information - but - if you could somehow break into their records, or whatever, all the information you'd get would tell you I was in New York. My driver's license still has my old address, in Manhattan. So how did those guys know I was here, in Millston?"

"We had a similar mystery," Duncan said, grimly.

"Oh?"

Quickly, Duncan told Father Cranagh about how we'd been attacked by hired mercenaries in the city. Somehow, they had known exactly where to find us.

"That's very troubling," Cranagh said. He turned his intelligent, blue eyes towards me. "Jack, may I ask you something? You didn't tell the others about the ferry until _after _you got in the van?" I nodded. "And who chose the route you took to get there?"

"I did," Celeste said. "Why -"

"It _is _a mystery," the bearded priest said. "You see? You didn't talk about the ferry before you left, and you didn't choose - or plan - a route before you left. So how did they know where you'd be? It wasn't like they could overhear your conversation. Whoever is after you, Micah, has some powerful resources. Or perhaps powerful magic."

"Magic?" Rav looked startled. "Shit, I didn't think about that. That's the _last _thing I want to deal with."

"Pere," Duncan jumped in. "How were you supposed to contact those humans? Did they give you a number?"

"No, they simply told me to get in touch if I saw you. They didn't say _how _to get in touch."

"Perhaps they're watching the house?" Duncan wondered.

Now Micah looked startled. His eyes darted around the small yard.

"I doubt it," Cranagh said. "If they were, they'd be here by now. Yes? Besides, if they knew where I lived, why approach me in the bar? Why talk to me at all? They could simply watch the house and wait for you to show up."

"Pere," Duncan said, "You should've said something as soon as we arrived. I don't want to put you in any danger."

"My friend, we're all in danger. The world's falling apart, isn't it? That's why - one reason why, anyway - you want to put a king on the throne. Besides, if anything, I _put _you in danger - all those years ago. When I brought you into the search."

"The search?" Celeste asked. "Are you the one who got Duncan looking for the next queen or king?"

"I was, indeed," Pere Cranagh replied. "I was involved, in the search, in my own small way. Duncan was a teenager who needed some guidance. He stumbled, by accident, into what I called 'the search'. That makes it sound very dramatic, doesn't it?" Cranagh smiled, amused. "Almost like a quest or something."

I glanced over at Drake, who was sitting on the deck, next to Micah. Drake had used that word - quest - when I'd first met him.

"Guidance is a polite way of putting it," Duncan said. He blushed, and looked embarrassed. "As a teenager, I was an orphan - and a thief - living on the streets. At fifteen, I got into drugs. One day I woke up in a shelter - no memory of how I got there. Pere helped me out, got me clean, got the drugs out of my system." He looked at Cranagh with an expression that bordered on reverence.

"That's right," Cranagh said, nodding. "You were fifteen. 1973. Seventeen years ago! What a long, long amount of time to spend searching."

"We weren't always _searching," Duncan pointed out. "Remember? It was off and on - mostly _on, true, but there were detours. There were also times when the trail went completely cold, and so we'd go off on some foolish, crazy adventure."

"And then I got burned out, and fled to New Jersey," Cranagh said, with a wry smile.

"No shame in that. _I _almost gave the whole thing up, once. I had a city in Mexico in my sights, and I was making plans to go there."

"And then the trail got hot again," Cranagh said.

"Yes," Duncan said, simply. "And I canceled my travel plans."

**

We decided to take turns keeping watch, in case our mysterious enemies came to Cranagh's house in the middle of the night.

As darkness fell, and the moon rose in the sky, Duncan retired to the spare bedroom. Father Cranagh collected a book and two bottles of Seven Stars, and went off to sleep in his room. The rest of us camped out in the living room. We gave Micah the couch, though he put up some resistance.

"Why me? I'm not special."

"You are, actually," Celeste pointed out. "But this isn't about that. We're just feeling generous, right now. Tell you what, next time, _you _get to sleep on the floor, and _I'll _take the comfortable couch."

"Okay, okay," Micah muttered.

Celeste had drawn the first watch. I placed an old and faded blanket in front of the couch, and Drake curled up on it. Instantly, he was asleep. Rav and I dove into our sleeping bags.

"This is so cosy and comfortable," Rav said, a teasing note in his voice. "Celeste, I feel so sorry for you!" Now he was full-on teasing. "You have to stay awake, while the rest of us get to sleep, all peaceful and tucked in, and relaxed."

"You asshole," Celeste said, laughing. "Just wait, it'll be your turn soon. And when I wake up Jack, for the next watch, I might just _accidentally _wake you up, too."

From the kitchen, I could hear the sounds of Father Cranagh's coffee maker, as it conjured up its elixir. Celeste had said she wouldn't need any, but I certainly would, when it was my turn to keep watch. I thought about the coffee shops in the city, and I thought about how odd it was to find myself on a road trip, sleeping on the floor of a house in New Jersey, on my way to who-knew-what-all. I thought about those who were chasing after us. I thought about Duncan's long, long search.

I thought about how Rav had taken off his jeans, casually, before getting into his bulky sleeping bag. His shorts were baggy, and dark blue in color.

I fell asleep, and I did not dream.