by Katie French
Then Andrew grabs her.
A tangle of arms and legs, Andrew and Mama tilt out over the dark abyss. Andrew’s hand grips her shirt, his other arm slicing through open air as if he could fly. Mama's hands pry at his fingers, but she's teetering. She’s going over with him.
Dear God, no!
Andrew falls, disappearing. I jump, stretching my body the last few feet to the lip of the hole. I reach for her leg as she begins to plummet. My fingers brush skin and my heart surges. I have her. Then my fingers slip off and my hand slices through open space.
“Mama!” I scream.
This can't be happening.
I hit the ground hard, my lower legs and torso on the concrete's edge, my chest and arms tilting into empty space. As I fall, my eyes lock on Mama below me. Her hair flutters against her cheeks. Her eyes, which I expect to find terrified, have lost their fear. She smiles at me, her mouth open. I’ll fall with her and she’ll tell me the last thing we’ll ever know and I’ll be with her in the dark vastness and whatever waits beyond. I reach for her.
A hand slams on my ankle. My elbow smacks into the crevasse's side. Mama is still falling, down, down. I'm losing her to shadow. My fingers drag against the rock wall. “Mama!”
For a moment that is both forever and a single second, her beautiful face is illuminated by light. She offers me one more smile, her dark eyes shining with tears. Then the darkness swallows her.
I squeeze my eyes shut and try not to hear. Yet the thud, when it comes, is so loud it shakes every inch of me.
I roll into myself. My body feels gone. My brain too. Maybe I've died. Maybe I'm floating forever through black space. Yet there’s pain. Pain pressing at my heart. Hands draw me up and pull me in. Arms surround me, but I can’t open my eyes. I can’t live in the world where that just happened. It didn't happen.
Clay holds me. Holds me, holds me, holds me. Murmurs things into my ear.
I push away, detaching from his arms, and open my eyes. He stares at me, fear in his. “Riley, are you—”
I turn and run from him, down the incline, down into darkness.
“Stop!” he calls, but I don’t. I run. Run into the dark. I run until my foot strikes something hard and I skid into the wall. When my feet hit the bottom, I stand in the blackness, panting, not knowing what to do.
Clay thuds down the incline, a lantern bobbing from his hand. “I’m coming,” he says, his tone firm. “Yer not doin' this on yer own.”
My heart hammers so hard in my chest pain radiates up my breast bone, but I take the lantern from him. I both need and fear its light. But I have to see my Mama. See if she's…alive somehow.
Slowly, I scan the light over the dark hole. The beam falls on a pair of black lace-up boots. Andrew's. My gorge rises. Slowly, my hand trembling, I move the beam up, up his broken body.
His eyes are open and staring through goggles that have splintered into spider webs. His mouth is slack, as if surprised. A trickle of blood meanders from his nose. His thin blond hair is pink in the back where his head has cracked like a bird's egg. I turn the beam away from the mess of red behind him.
Clay walks up and pulls something off Andrew’s neck. The Messiah’s necklace. “For Mage.” He tucks it in his pocket and turns to me. “Let’s find yer ma.”
My head swims. I'll faint. I'll die. I have to do this.
I flick the lantern left and the beam trails over a pale, slender hand. My own hands shake so badly the beam dances, yet I draw closer. I know those fingers. How many times have they stroked my hair or rubbed away the sting of some reckless wound? How many times have I held that han— I choke on a sob hitching up in my throat. Clay puts a hand on my shoulder. Then, slowly, he lifts the beam to her face.
Her eyes are closed. Her face looks…peaceful. Her raven hair fans out behind her head in a black halo. Trembling, I kneel down and touch my palm to her cheek.
“Mama?”
Nothing.
“Mama?” I lean down, placing both hands on her face.
Beside me, Clay kneels and presses two fingers to a vein in her neck. I don't want him doing that. I shake her a little. “Mama?”
His face morphs from serious to somber to total, awful sadness. He shakes his head. I push him out of the way. “Let me,” I say. My fingers ply the tender skin on her neck and hope for the quick pulse beneath the pads of my fingers. Nothing. I shift my fingers.
“Riley,” Clay whispers. Then firmer. “Riley.”
I shake my head, still searching for a pulse. “No,” I whisper. “No.”
“She’s gone.” He places a hand on my shoulder.
“No.” I stand, wringing my hands. Clay bends down to lift her and her arms fall lifeless to her sides. On the ground, a stain of blood has spread.
I turn and vomit. Lurching spasms rock my whole body. For several moments I can do nothing but convulse, gripping the wall. When it's over, I open my eyes. Clay slowly carries Mama's body up the incline.
I scuttle up to the surface behind him, a thrumming in my head that makes every movement, every breath feel like they belong to someone else. Somehow I reach the top. Lavan, the guards, and Ethan stare. They look at me. I don't like the looks on their faces. I want out of here.
“Riley,” a small voice. Ethan. I feel his hand on mine. “Riley, is she…” He doesn’t finish. I hear the tears in his voice.
I fall to my knees, drawing him in. I hug him and shake uncontrollably. I bury my face into my brother’s chest. He holds me and cries, his body shaking, his tears falling into my hair, hot and wet. I don’t know how long we stay like that. I don’t know what else is happening around us.
When I finally look up, they’re all waiting. Even the speaker, who looks more human now, less monster. Even her ruined face offers me a sympathetic look. Clay stands behind me. On the ground is a body covered in a jacket. Mama was alive a moment ago. She gave herself up to save Ethan. To save us all. I should've been the one. I should've gotten to her in time. She can’t be gone. She can’t.
“We…we have to bury her,” is all I can manage. My voice sounds like broken concrete.
Clay nods, his hand stroking my arm over and over. The only comfort he can offer. “This morning we’ll honor her sacrifice.”
Chapter 28
Dawn in the desert brings no comfort. Today I bury my mama.
I stand, barely on my feet, as the Brotherhood gathers stones to entomb the woman who birthed me. Ethan is clutched under my arm, staring into the bright burst of pink light in the East. He hasn’t talked since he asked me if she was dead. I don’t blame him. I don’t want to talk. I want to crawl into a hole and die. Over and over I feel her ankle brush against the pads of my fingers. Over and over I picture myself one second faster, my hand cinching around her leg, holding fast, drawing her up into my arms.
I could've saved her. Somehow I should be able to go back. I just need one more second.
They gather stones, large sand-colored boulders and, beside them, smaller gray ovals. The stack grows before my feet and yet it feels like they’re piling them on top of my chest. I'll be buried here beneath the rocks and stones, entombed in this desert, and it'll be okay.
If I'd been one second faster...
We place her body on a sandy hill a quarter mile from the mall. Rayburn will lie beside her. I stare out at the foreign landscape. This isn't right. We can't leave her here. But Clay keeps insisting this is what we have to do. He comes over to me now, his eyes wary like a dog that’s displeased his master. He places a hand on my cheek, but I can’t be touched. Not with my mama’s body growing cold beneath a tarp at my feet. I pull away.
He says nothing, just looks at me morosely and then goes back to hauling stones. Sweating and toiling for me. For my mama.
Her ankle brushing against my fingers. Then empty space.
When the rock pile is complete, the other men walk off. Ethan, Clay, and I stand around her body and stare. I should say something, but what words would be equal to her sacrific
e, to the years of torment she endured so that Ethan and I could have a chance at this world? Should it be a surprise that this is how she died?
I kneel in the dirt and slowly lift the tarp back. There’s her delicate face, the soft ridges of burned skin running up her cheek and over her chin. I place my hand there and feel how cold she's become. It lays another boulder on my heart. “I’m sorry. So sorry.”
Ethan drops beside me, quietly crying. “It’s not your fault.” He snakes his arms around my chest. “She died because of me.” His sobs rock us both.
“No,” I say, wrapping my arms around him, pressing his angular body into mine. “She died for you to live. She knew the baby would kill her and she wanted the end of her life to mean something.” I pull back and look into his teary eyes. “You gotta forgive yourself. Live the life she helped save.”
“Then you have to stop, too.” He wipes his nose on his sleeve and tosses his hair out of his eyes. “You have to stop saying sorry for her being dead. Or I won’t.” He swipes at the tears trailing down his face.
“Okay. We will. We go on together.”
Then Ethan and I place the first stone.
Mage, Lavan, and the Brotherhood feed us from their food stores. Ethan, Mage, and I sit on blankets on the garage's floor and eat canned tomatoes and peaches out of jars. The plan is we eat, we pack, we leave. If the Breeders are headed this way, we need to get going as soon as possible. And I need to get to Auntie. Now more than ever I need my last adult connection to the life I knew.
I glance around the hot garage for Clay, but I haven’t seen him since we buried Mama. I push up from the floor and give Ethan a pat. He looks up at me with worried eyes.
“I’m going to find Clay. Be back in a bit.”
He gives me a quiet nod and then goes back to learning how to make a paper crane, his leg pressed into Mage’s. As I watch them, I almost smile.
Walking out through the desert at dawn somehow soothes me. It’s the life I knew, the life I’ve been missing. The sun is low in the east and the day critters are starting their trek. A copper-colored lizard slinks under a rock as I pass. In the distance, a hawk dives on its prey. It's nice out here. No wonder Clay came out alone.
I find him over the ridge, sitting Indian-style, his arms around his knees. He hears me coming and snaps around, his hand reaching for the gun at his hip. When he sees me he relaxes, but doesn’t smile. Instead he turns his eyes toward the sunrise, a sadness settling on his face. As I sit beside him, he doesn’t look over. His brooding eyes crinkle slightly as if me being here pains him.
“Not up for company?” I ask, trying to sound light. I lean my shoulder into his. His body rocks at my touch, but then stiffens. His good left hand tightens over his right. His jaw is stone.
“You wanna be alone?” I ask, a coldness crusting over my heart. “Am I bothering you?”
He swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. “You're not…botherin' me.” He flicks a glance in my direction. “Just figured you didn't, you know, need me much.”
His words are weighted. They fall around me like shards of ice. I drop my eyes. I have no words to sooth this rift. Words have ceased to help me lately.
“Yeah,” Clay says, standing, brushing dust off his jeans. “Figured as much. I'll be over the ridge, huntin'.” He takes a step down the gravel path.
“Stop!” I stand up, my hand out, reaching for…God knows what. “What did I do?”
His blue eyes cloud. He runs a hand through his brown hair. “What d'you mean?”
“What did I do?” I gesture at his rock-wall posture.
He crosses his arms over his chest, his brow furrowing. One boot toe digs in the dirt. “Nothing.”
“Then what?” I take a nervous step forward, the gravel crunching under my boots. “After all we've been through, I thought you'd be there for me.” I sniff and blink back tears. How can he pick a fight when my mama's not even cold?
He barks an incredulous laugh. “Ha. Like you'd ever let me be there for you. Funny, Ri. Good one.” He starts down the ridge again.
I run after him, skidding in the dust. I grab his arm and haul him back. His eyes are cold when he whirls towards me. I jab a finger into his shirt. “You don't get to do that!” I shout. “You don't get to walk away.”
“Why don't I?” he yells. “That's all you ever do.” He clenches his jaw. “You push me away every chance you get!”
My heart bangs into my ribcage like a frantic animal, but my anger is fading. “What're you talking about?”
He jabs a finger back at the mall. “You. Push. Me. Away. Every time I try to help. Every time I step in.” He tugs his hair until it sticks up wildly. “I get it. You're independent. You can take care of yerself. But here's the thing.” He leans in, his eyes narrowing. “Everybody needs help. And if you're not gonna let me get close, then there's not much to us.”
I stare at him, letting his words crest over me like an ice-cold wave. Up above, the hawk's wings cast a long shadow over the land.
“I …” I shake my head, sudden tears welling to my eyes. “I'm not good at trusting.” My words come out in harsh whispers. I look up at him. His blue eyes sparkle in the light. I can't lose him. “It's hard…to trust when I've been let down so much. You know?”
His jaw unclenches first, then his fists. Slowly, he turns toward me. His thumbs find his belt loops. He takes a deep breath. “I know I let you down when we got captured—”
“No.” I touch his arm. This time he doesn't yank it away. I stare into his beautiful sun-lit face. “You didn’t let me down.”
He runs a hand through his brown hair. What I want to do is I step close until our bodies are inches away and thread my fingers through his hair, feel its softness between the pads of my fingers. Instead, I stand there and wait for him to break my heart.
He closes the gap between us in two steps and throws his arms around me. His smell overpowers me, that deep musk that sends my heart scampering. I press into him. My right hand grips his shirt back, my left the hair at the nape of his neck. As he leans down, the stubble on his cheek skims mine. My body ignites with wanting.
“You don't trust me,” he whispers. His words flutter at my neck, sending shivers over my skin. “You think I'm gonna leave.” He slips his hand under my chin and lifts my face up until I'm staring into his steel-blue eyes framed with long dark lashes.
“Riley,” he breathes, his mouth moving only inches from mine. “I'm right here.” His hand circles behind my neck. “I'll always be right here.”
He presses his lips to mine and his mouth ignites me with a slow, smoldering fire. His hands lace through my hair as his lips part and his tongue finds mine. The muscles of his back ripple under my fingertips. Panting, I pull back from the kiss and tug his shirt over his head. He stops and looks up at me in surprise.
“What're you doin'?” he asks, his eyes flashing, his bare chest heaving.
I run a hand over his skin, amazed at the feel of it. His pecs flex instinctively beneath my fingertips. “I trust you,” I whisper. I look up at him—the smooth round muscles on his chest and arms, the scar that runs down the hard muscles of his abdomen. Then I stare up into his sky blue eyes. “I trust you,” I repeat. Then I draw my shirt up over my head. The evening breeze playing over the bare skin on my arms and shoulders sends shivers over my body. Slowly, I unwind the binding on my chest.
“You don't…have to,” he says, watching with rapt attention. He lifts his eyes to mine, softness in his gaze. “You don't have to do this to keep me. I'm with you whether you want to or not.”
I nod and continue to unwind the cloth that covers me. “I know.”
I pull the last of the cloth away, and I'm bare, undone before him. His eyes go wide and a smile plays at his lips. I reach for him.
“Wait,” he says. He fumbles in his pants pockets. He pulls out a small gold ring—simple, beautiful. “I want you to have this.” His face is bashful, his long lashes fluttering as he takes my hand and slips t
he gold band on my finger. I hold it up to the light.
“Clay,” I whisper. I place my hand on his cheek. “Where did you get it?”
“Mage,” he says, smiling. “I asked her for one before…” He waves his hand back toward the mall. “People used to give each other rings as symbols of their commitment. Or marriage or whatever.” He blushes. “Wanted to give you one a while back, but I wasn't sure how you felt.”
I twirl the gold band on my finger and marvel at the silken feel on my skin. I press my lips to his with a tender kiss. “Being with you is the most right I've ever been.”
He draws me to him and I'm lost to sensation—his skin on my skin, his hands on my body, his mouth, his tongue, his breath skimming the bare flesh of my collarbones. We lay together under the open sky and I let go of the fear and the pain of this place. I give myself to Clay. And it’s beautiful.
Chapter 29
Once again we're loading up a truck, yet this time there's two empty seats that will never be filled. I toss another sack of gear into the back. The Brotherhood have allowed us to fully stock ourselves from their warehouse. We've got more guns, ammo, cooking utensils, spare parts, fuel, and knickknacks than we need. Ethan even found a comic book and a T-shirt his size that reads Red Sox in big red letters. Clay's got a revolver on each hip, boxes of bullets, and a smile so wide you couldn't scrape it off. He finishes up a conversation with Lavan, slapping him on the back and laughing. When he walks my way, my hand reaches to the ring resting on a chain under my shirt.
“We ready?” he asks, pulling me in to kiss the top of my head. He runs a hand through my short hair. “Mage really gave you the barber shop treatment, huh?”
I touch the hair at the nape of my neck and blush, self-doubt rising like a cork. What if Clay doesn't like my haircut? But, as if he senses my insecurity, he presses his lips to my ear. “You look gorgeous.”
