“No matter what,” I whispered back.
Pilate cleared his throat. “Cavvy, your ankle. You’re not going to be able to walk.”
I stepped back, blushing. Hadn’t meant for anyone to see Micaiah and me like that.
“I’m fine,” I said. Ha, that was a joke.
“Starting off thirsty on a desert hike is a bad idea, but bad is all we got,” Wren said quietly.
“Not all bad,” Micaiah said. He walked around to the trunk of the Pegasus, clicked it open, and removed Sharlotte’s saddlebags.
I couldn’t stop smiling. Knowing Sharlotte, we’d been given a gift. Both Wren and I did a quick inventory of the treasures—no water, but Sharlotte had thrown in LifeStraws, a tube that filtered water as you drank through it. Under the straws lay a folded plastic three-liter jug. I moved it and found extra ammunition, some vacuum sealed beef jerky, NDurance protein bars, a bottle of Fast Boil, a box of FireForge, a sewing kit, some spoons, and best of all, a bottle of Doc Slocum’s Reactivation Elixir.
Wren touched the yellow bottle of Doc Slocum’s oil and nodded. “Johnson is right,” she said. “In fact, this isn’t just good, it’s exactly great in our current condition.”
I could only agree. At the bottom of the saddlebags lay something else we’d need. A collapsible aluminum saw.
Wren saw my face grow dark. “Not yet, Cavvy.”
An evil feeling flip-flopped in my belly and my head grew light. “We both know what we need to do.”
“Maybe so,” Wren said. “But if we don’t find water, we all might die anyway.”
She wanted to avoid the grisly chore put in front of us. To tell you the truth, I did as well, but I knew we’d have to do it or lose Sharlotte forever. I left and tightened Sharlotte’s tourniquet.
When I went to put on one of the seatbelt harnesses, Wren stopped me. “No, Cavvy, you can barely walk. Let me.”
She, Pilate, and Micaiah dragged Sharlotte across the desert ground.
The curved rails cut through the dirt pretty well. I limped along after them, my cowgirl boots marking up the trail left behind by the car seat.
Wren walked with two AZ3 assault rifles crisscrossing her back. Tina Machinegun hung over Pilate’s shoulder. I carried the saddlebags, heavy from the extra clips and grenades, along with the little toolkit. No way would I leave anything behind. My mama had done salvage work. Early on, she made a needlepoint placard which she framed and hung on the wall of our house that said “Waste not, want not.” For salvage monkeys, that was pretty much gospel.
So, we walked—wounded, bloody, exhausted. We kept the North Star to our left, picked a bright star in the eastern sky, and marched toward it. I knew to keep the Granite Mountains to our right. We’d have to pass them to get to the Fish Springs Mountains, which I hoped weren’t as big. Snow still capped the Granite Mountains, which were painted crimson by the setting sun.
Each step made the pain in my ankle worse, but at least the air started to cool as night fell. Every so often, I’d think my ankle was toughening up, and for a minute, the pain would drift away, and then it would return, strangling me. Still, I gimped along.
Our cows were gone. Our employees were gone. The money we’d needed to save our house and pay off our debts was gone. All we had left was uncertain hope and fearful desperation. Micaiah had promised reward money, but we’d have to be alive to collect it. And the idea of selling the cure for the Sterility Epidemic felt like a fairytale. I didn’t know how we’d save our land, but then, I had other things to worry about. The ARK would come after us. They would scour every centimeter of the Juniper to find us.
More and more, it looked like we were sitting at a poker table holding worthless low cards. The odds were stacked against us in every way imaginable.
Nothing new there. We’d done thirteen hundred kilometers from Burlington, Colorado to Wendover, Nevada in similar straits.
What was one more night?
Chapter Three
Walk into the wasteland
Where the water tastes like flame
Walk into the darkness
Where no one knows your name
— Melissa Clique
(i)
ANOTHER NIGHT WITHOUT sleep.
The full moon broke over the horizon, bright enough to shine a path of silver across the scrub. Despite the light and despite my pain, I kept falling asleep while walking. My foot would hit a half-buried rock, or I’d trip on greasewood, and my eyes would snap open before I tumbled to the ground.
I longed to stop and rest. I didn’t care if I bedded down in a den of rattlesnakes nor if black widow spiders crawled into my ears. At least my ankle wouldn’t be screaming at me, and I’d get to close my sandpaper-dry eyes. Pilate’s breathing had gotten raspier. Wren stumbled, like me, tripping in her sleep.
Thirst plagued us.
Micaiah seemed fine, but then, he might not be completely human. Didn’t know ’cause he wouldn’t tell me. And the predicament we were in was ’cause of him and the chalkdrive. If Sharlotte had sent him away that first night, we’d prolly be counting our ten million dollars in a hotel in Wendover, watching video and drinking fruit smoothies.
Instead, we were on the run with my oldest sister’s life hanging in the balance. And it was the sister I liked most, not Wren, sullen, violent, contrary Wren—
Right then, I had to stop and correct myself.
Wren was going to quit drinking and change. And I hadn’t always liked Sharlotte. Micaiah, even though he could be secretive, was on a noble quest to get the cure for the Sterility Epidemic out to the world, so women wouldn’t have to buy Male Product from an ARK clinic or sleep with some man they didn’t love. Like Pilate—vows of celibacy aside.
My attempt to shake off the vile thoughts only worked for so long, and I fell back into hate and despair. What was Micaiah? How could he heal like a Vixx? The world saw him as human, the son of Tibbs Hoyt, heir to the ARK. Had he been dosed with the Gulo Delta, too? Or was he something else altogether?
We stopped for a short break beside the snowy peaks of the Granite Mountains. Thank God we hadn’t needed to cross them. I went to check on Sharlotte. The heat of her fever warmed my hand despite the night’s cold. Her shattered leg wouldn’t heal. The flesh would become necrotic, gangrene would set in, and finally death. Again, I considered the saw in the saddlebags. We’d put a fair distance between us and the ruined Pegasus, but it didn’t feel like the right time.
When would it be right? I didn’t know.
Micaiah asked, “How do we know we won’t miss the wildlife refuge?”
“I memorized the map,” I said. “Granite Mountains are above us. In the distance are the Fish Springs Mountains. The tallest one is George H. Hansen Peak. On the other side is the Fish Springs Wildlife Refuge. I think they might be natural springs bubbling up from the ground, since there’s no snow on that mountain range.”
“If they’re natural springs, what if the water is too alkaline to drink?” Micaiah asked. “I think we might be on the southern tip of the salt flats.”
“We are,” I whispered. “And if we can’t drink the water, we’ll die.” Funny, fear and pain filled me like an overflowing bucket. Couldn’t fit even a micro-liter more in me. It flowed right on out.
So we’d die. Big deal. At least my ankle would stop hurting. And I wouldn’t have to use the saw.
“I won’t let you die, Cavatica,” Micaiah said fiercely. “I might not be the best guy around, but I will protect you. I swear. I’ll keep you safe by any means necessary.”
Oh, if only I’d have stopped to consider that one simple sentence. My whole life might’ve played out differently. At the time I thought it was sweet. Now I know better.
Micaiah unshouldered his harness. “I know you say it’s not hurting, but it’s pretty clear you’re in pain. I can help. Pilate, Wren, are you okay pulling Sharlotte on your own?”
Both nodded.
Before I could stop him, Micaiah used a pocket knife to c
ut the straps of the harness into strips. “Please, Cavvy, sit down.”
I touched a layer of crystalline crust as I settled my bottom onto the ground. Sure enough, it was salt. Unlike the salt flats, this soil had enough nutrients to support life. More greasewood dotted the landscape, as did junipers. During our walk, every one of them had seemed like an ARK soldier coming after us.
Micaiah slid my boot off and wrapped my ankle in the seatbelt strap, then wriggled my boot back on. He smiled at me, and I smiled back shyly. His concern for me was nice. He could be so selfless and caring.
He crawled over me and kissed me again. His touch fired my heart. Did he know how good his hands felt on me? I wasn’t sure.
It was dark, and Pilate and Wren had started off dragging Sharlotte. We had a second of privacy. Then Micaiah stood and threw Sharlotte’s saddlebags over his shoulder. He pulled me up. I went to walk away, but he insisted I lean on his shoulder instead. He held my waist and helped me limp eastward. To be honest, the bandage didn’t help much, but being so close to him made me feel good. His body, his smell, the boy I loved and who loved me back. No matter what.
He grinned at me. “Worst date ever, huh?”
I smiled wearily. “Not a lot of boys left in the world. That I get a date at all is kinda exciting. Though next time, it’d be nice if there was more video and kissing and less running for our lives.”
“I’ll pay for all the drinks,” he said.
That made me groan. “Don’t talk about it. Even the word ‘drinks’ makes the thirst worse.”
One foot, then the next, then the next, then the next. Sharlotte’s car seat tore through the gray dirt and brush, marking our trail, but throwing up the pleasant scent of torn sage and fresh soil.
Dawn came bloody. The rising sun shined upon the Fish Springs Mountains, making the rocky soil glow like red meat, the gray granite fading into white from the intense light. Hansen Peak rose into the sky south of us. The sun, already hot, sizzled the last of the moisture out of our mouths.
I figured as we got closer to the refuge we’d see dwarf pines at least. But there wasn’t a single tree in sight. Sparse clumps of coarse grasses reached like corpse hands from the poisonous, salty soil.
Wren’s feet got tangled up in some greasewood, and she fell. She didn’t get up. I wasn’t sure how the Gulo Delta had changed her genetics, but it was clear she was still pretty messed up—though she was healing. Then again, she’d been close to death the night before, so even the fact she could move was a miracle of science.
We all waited for her, as patient as draft horses harnessed together for plowing. We didn’t say anything, didn’t try to help, just waited for her. I leaned harder on Micaiah to rest my right ankle.
Wren struggled to her feet, swaying. She laughed. “Ain’t this a party? Like New Year’s Eve, but Sharlotte don’t get a kiss, she gets cut to pieces. And you expect me to go through this world sober? You expect me to believe in God? Well, you can all go jack yourselves.”
I was too tired to argue with her. Pilate, though, was always good for a debate. “Are you afraid, Wren?”
My sister wasn’t about to admit her fears out loud.
Pilate tried me. “Are you afraid, Cavvy?”
I shrugged. Yes. Always. For months on end.
“I am,” Micaiah offered. “If we get lost or if the water in the wildlife reserve is too brackish, we’ll die of thirst out here. So yes, I’m afraid.”
Pilate smiled. “It’s impossible to feel fear and faith at the same time. I say we choose to have faith. I say we all should decide we’ll find the wildlife refuge, the water will be crystal clear and cool, and that everything will work out.”
“’Cause of God, Pilate?” Wren said the G-word like a curse.
“Our invisible friend in the sky? No, I can’t buy that.” Pilate actually laughed. “I say we choose faith because living in faith is a whole lot easier than living in fear.”
A gentleness came over Wren’s face, some kind of odd look I’d never seen before. I expected her to argue, but instead, she hugged Pilate for a long time.
I glanced at Micaiah, trying to gauge his reaction. He raised his eyebrows and cocked his head, as if to say, Yes, faith is easier than fear, but so what?
As for me, I wanted to know how Pilate could still wear a priest’s collar and not believe in God.
Wren and Pilate leaned into their harnesses and pulled Sharlotte. She trailed after them, still unconscious in the car seat. Micaiah and I followed. It was nice walking without the weight of the saddlebags, and Micaiah seemed to carry them easily. I never realized how strong he was.
Not an hour later, we came to the first rise of rocks marking the Fish Springs Mountains. We’d be able to skirt them on their northernmost border, and I was glad. Going up and over would’ve killed us.
I sniffed. Cows could smell water from kilometers away, and so, it seemed, could thirsty people. The breeze brought us a green, watery odor.
“Smell that?” Pilate said. “Faith is a lot more fun than fear.”
“Sometimes we need to be afraid,” Micaiah said. “Fear keeps us alive.”
“And faith doesn’t?” Pilate inhaled deeply. “Fear is a trick most of the time. Faith might be an illusion, but I’d rather trick myself happy than think myself sad.”
“But I thought you didn’t believe in God,” I said.
“Well, Cavvy,” Pilate replied, “confessing my sins to you helped me find my goddamn faith. Just when I’m certain heaven is empty, the Father throws me a surprise party. God isn’t the problem. I am. Most of the time.”
Once again, I couldn’t follow Pilate’s twist of thinking. One minute he’s saying he can’t believe in an invisible friend in the sky, and the next he’s talking about a surprise-party God.
A flock of big, white birds drifted over us and I couldn’t hold back my surprise. “Pelicans. There must be water close!”
We hurried forward. The sun flamed hotter, roasting us in our own juices. My tongue swelled in my mouth like a dead toad, and my body odor fouled the air. Embarrassing.
Needles of pain ripped up and down my leg as Micaiah and I forced ourselves to move faster. Every second without water seemed like hours of torture.
The rusted top of a school bus rose from the scrub and we moved toward it. As we got closer, we noticed a collection of derelict trucks surrounding the bus. The ground turned wet and marshy. The car seat rails sank, now too difficult for Wren and Pilate to pull. We all lifted the seat, and though every step was agony, I helped carry my sister through the salt marsh to the wrecked vehicles.
A small pond of water glimmered in the sunshine about ten meters east of the bus.
Not sure what happened to the bottom of the bus, but enough of the top, peppered with bullet holes and rusted through, remained to give us shelter. The other trucks, all regular gasoline, wouldn’t have worked. We could salvage them later. First, water.
Pilate and Micaiah laid Sharlotte in the shade under the bus’s picked-apart roof. We had to duck through the windows or door, but once inside, we didn’t need to stoop. Wren removed the LifeStraws and the collapsible plastic jug from the saddlebags.
We slogged through wet, gripping, sucking salt, until—
We stopped in a line. In front of us wasn’t a crystalline natural spring, but an oozing pond of boiling water, stinking like rotten eggs kept out in the sun. Minerals formed a wide crust around the central pool in an array of colors, from blood-rusty red to the gold color of old urine left in a bucket. Steam drifted from the boiling miasma to be whirled away by the breeze.
“What about your goddamn faith now, Pilate?” Wren’s laughter echoed across the landscape like gunshots.
It wouldn’t be the last time we’d be troubled by hot springs.
(ii)
You can drink the water from hot springs. People across the world have been doing it forever ’cause of the supposed health benefits. Sure, the minerals might give you diarrhea, but they won’t
kill you. Though in our case, a bad case of the runs might’ve.
I snatched a LifeStraw from Wren and stomped through the top crust of minerals. Water seeped into my boots. Near the edges it was hot but not boiling.
Braving the heat, I sank to my knees and put the straw in, sucked a little ... and spit it out. Sulfur won’t kill you, but drinking salt water will. Our kidneys would use too much water to process the salt, so we’d be left thirstier and more dehydrated than before.
Standing up, I limped back to Wren, Pilate, and Micaiah.
Didn’t need to tell them the water was bad, so I launched into a plan. “Micaiah and I will take the jug and go looking for fresh water. There has to be some. Those pelicans couldn’t live out here if there was only this muck.”
Pilate went to argue, but coughing broke him up.
“Cavvy, you go east,” Wren said. “The boy can go south, and I’ll go north. We’ll meet back in an hour. Pilate can cough up a lung while he waits with Sharlotte.”
“My lungs are coughed gone,” Pilate said, wheezing, “but my goddamn faith remains. You all will find water. I’ll wait here. And though it makes more sense for Cavvy to stay because of her ankle, I am not feeling up to fighting her. Fighting anyone else? Sure. I’m fairly certain battling the entire ARK army would be easier than arguing with a Weller.”
“Prolly,” I agreed.
When we got back to the shade under the bus roof, I sniffed Sharlotte, and winced at the stink. Her wound was going septic. We didn’t have long, and it might’ve already been too late.
Wren took Sharlotte’s Betty knife and tested the edge with her thumb.
I knew what she was thinking, so I said, “Let’s see if we can find water first. And we might find medical supplies. Remember, we still have that bottle of Doc Slocum’s.”
Pilate took the saw out of the saddlebags. “We can use the hot springs to sterilize the blade. It’s not an autoclave but it’s better than nothing. Whatever surgery we’re going to do, we need to do it fast and get moving again.”
“But not yet,” I said.
Inferno Girls Page 4
