Lotus and Thorn

by Sara Wilson Etienne

  It seemed an innocent enough explanation . . . if it was true. Then again, they’d just tried to kill Edison. “Intact. Does that mean those gadgets work?”

  Jaesun sidled up next to us, cutting into our conversation. “Your crew found the shuttle . . . why don’t you tell us?”

  The edge in his voice told me that Jaesun didn’t trust me, despite what he’d said about my honorable exile. And the feeling was mutual. Still, Suji had been a good teacher—never lie if it might be found out. Plus, information was the currency of more information. “Well, we did hear something on the radio . . .”

  “Yeah, we heard too, before we gutted the thing,” Jaesun said, and I knew I’d made the right choice. “Some kind of recording. Figure it’s been broadcasting since the very first outbreak of Red Death.”

  So the crew hadn’t tried to respond—or if they did, no one answered. Good. “What are you going to use it for?”

  “Anything we can.” Alejo looked to Jaesun and Jaesun nodded his permission. Evidently my honesty had bought me a little credit with the crewboss. It felt like a small victory in a day, a week, of losses. Alejo went on. “We’re not like everyone else out here. We’re exiles by choice. We call ourselves Indignos.”

  “Last time I saw you in Pleiades, you were calling me that, along with a few other choice names.”

  Alejo stopped for a second and the man behind him almost ran into him. Then Alejo remembered where he was and scuttled to take his place in formation again. I matched my pace with his while Jaesun discreetly dropped back, rejoining the rear guard of our procession. Alejo’s mouth kept twisting into different frowns, as if he was struggling to find the right words.

  “I think, I’m sorry is what you’re looking for,” I said.

  “I know.” His messy hair fell over his eyes and he shook it out of the way impatiently. “And I am sorry. My dad and little brother had just died and I was so angry. I took it out on the wrong people.”

  “And now? Who do you think are the right people?”

  Alejo looked away and shrugged.

  I let it drop. No need to alienate my only supporter. “Exiles by choice. Does that mean you left Pleiades on purpose?”

  “Yes, to see if we could create something new . . . without the Curadores.”

  When I gave Alejo a blank look, he smiled. “You’ll see when we get to camp.”

  After hours of walking east, we crossed the magfly tracks and turned south, the peaks rising up in front of us. The loose sand hardened into cracked mud—scattered with boulders and scrub brush. The crew seemed to relax as we got close to the mountains, their formation looser, their faces less somber. But the nearness of those cliffs made me nervous and I rested a hand on my knife.

  As I did, a group of exiles—guards by the look of it—stepped out from behind a patch of boulders. Three men and two women blocked our path, weapons drawn. But when they saw Jaesun, they nodded respectfully and let out a piercing whistle. From about fifty meters up along the ridge, the whistle was returned.

  “You have men up on the mountains?” I gaped. No one went into the mountains. It was the domain of wild dogs and diseased animals.

  “We do lots of things other folks don’t consider smart,” Jaesun said by way of answer. “Don’t want any other crews accidentally wandering into camp.”

  The guards seemed to think this was funny—their sandmasks muffling their laughter. Jaesun asked them, “Any news while I’ve been—”

  A dog came bounding around the corner. Mouth open, running hard. I drew my knife, but Jaesun crouched down and flung open his arms.

  “Hey, girl! Did you miss me?”

  Instead of baring her teeth, the dog flopped down—rolling over for Jaesun to rub her tummy. And more unbelievably, he did. Speaking of doing stupid things.

  But the dog didn’t look sickly or particularly aggressive even. In fact, she looked ridiculous—tongue drooping out of her mouth—as she jumped up again and inspected the troops. And the previously menacing group of Indignos pulled their sandmasks off and stood at faux attention while the dog sniffed and investigated them. A few of them even cracked a smile.

  Though none of the guards were from Building Nine, I recognized all of them from the Festival ring. Life on Gabriel was hard. The people of Pleiades didn’t have much, but our fighters were our soul. The ring was a place where Citizens could see we were still strong. That despite unrelenting penitence, our lives had worth. Good fighters were revered by their buildings—a sign that God smiled on its Citizens—and these men and women standing in front of me were some of the best. Over the years, I’d seen each of them fight—and lose to—my dad. They’d been heroes, symbols of pride for Pleiades, and now incredibly, here they were in the wasteland of Tierra Muerta.

  When the dog got to me—ridiculous or not—seventeen years of instinct kicked in. I froze as the dog sniffed every inch of me. Animals brought death. Everyone knew they carried disease, they stole food, and they attacked when you were vulnerable. When the dog jumped up to snuffle at my pack, it was all I could do not to give in to the all-encompassing, head-buzzing panic.

  I only started breathing again when the dog dropped down on all fours and trotted over to Jaesun, wagging her tail.

  “The pup approves.” Jaesun was holding back a smile, enjoying my discomfort. But his smugness didn’t last long because suddenly pebbles were skittering down the mountainside, gathering at our feet. Dust billowed along the ridgeline above us and, in the wake of a small rockslide, another guard in a sandmask came skidding down the steep slope, charging at me.

  Before I could even raise my arms in defense, the guard tackled me. Knocking me to the ground.

  “You’re safe!” The guard ripped off the sandmask. Blue dirt smudged every inch of skin and the black hair was short and messy, but the grin was the same. Reaching all the way up to her eyes, making them sparkle.

  “Lotus!” I hugged her with all my strength, wishing I could cement myself to her. But there was so much less of her than the last time I’d seen her. She’d been stretched thin and I could feel her ribs under my hands.

  But still. She was here. And it was like finding myself again.

  “When I saw you through the binoculars . . . How did you . . . I can’t believe you’re here!” She hugged me again, laughing.

  And I was laughing too. The belly-deep, whole-body kind of laugh, which shakes your soul loose. Questions and worries and thoughts spun themselves around, but there was no room for them. There was only room for my sister.

  I grinned at her. “I never thought I’d see you again. I wanted to believe it, but now I see I never did. Not really.”

  Lotus nodded. “Tasch swore somehow that you’d come back in one piece and she was right, as always!”

  “Where is she?” I glanced around, as if Tasch might suddenly appear down the mountain too. It was then I noticed that Jaesun’s crew—except for Alejo and the guards—were already heading into the ravine. Lotus was terribly quiet and I pushed her sandmask farther down so I could see her clearly. Her skin was drawn tight over her cheekbones. Her whole face was pinched, except for under her eyes, where it was puffy and bruised-looking. “What happened?”

  Raw pain flashed across Lotus’s face and she opened her mouth to speak; then she closed it again and stood up. It was as if she put away the sister I knew—simply took it off, like it was a dress or a shirt—and carefully folded it up and tucked it away inside herself. “A lot’s happened since you left.”

  “That much is clear. And I didn’t leave. I was exiled.” I stood up, putting myself in front of her, even though I had to crane my neck to look at her. Not giving her an out. “Where’s Tasch?”

  Tasch and Lotus would never intentionally be separated. Surely she was here somewhere. Surely if something had happened I would’ve known. Would’ve woken up in the middle of the night. Surely my heart would
’ve stopped, at least for a moment. I scanned the faces of the guards, even though I knew that was the last place Taschen would be. All I found was pity in the eyes of the toughest people in Pleiades.

  No. I survived. I’d made it here. I’d done the impossible—I’d found Lotus. This isn’t how it happens.

  I turned away as a fissure formed inside of me. Fracturing me. Schisming me. My soul shredding and evaporating in the sun.

  Not wanting to hear the answer, I asked the question anyway. “How did she die?”

  CHAPTER 9

  MY VOICE CRACKED as I asked Lotus the question again. “How? When?”

  Even the guards moved off now, giving us space. Only Alejo hung back, looking uncertain.

  Lotus faced me finally, straight on—locking her hands onto mine, so we were a circle of two. Her fierce, dark eyes fixed on me, so I could see her pain and rage, still fresh. “A few months ago. A new wave of Red Death swept through our building. I’ve never seen anything like it. The quarantine shed was full. The Curadores had to come into bedrooms and apartments to collect the bodies. And Tasch . . . she went so quick. The fever burned through her before she even started bleeding.”

  “It wasn’t right.” Alejo’s voice broke into our tiny circle and Lotus glared at him. “It didn’t make any—”

  “Now is not the time,” Lotus snapped.

  Alejo closed his mouth, his jaw clenched. It was clear they’d had this conversation a hundred times. Alejo looked at Lotus with a fierceness that matched her own—but it wasn’t anger that blazed there. It was a protectiveness, like he wanted to shield her from her own pain. But to take Lotus’s grief would be to take Tasch from her. On some level, Alejo seemed to realize this and relented, following the other Indignos into the ravine and leaving us to ourselves.

  “I wasn’t there for her. For either of you,” I said. There was a numbness to the words, as if the cavern breaking open inside of me had made it impossible to process anything.

  “It’s not your fault. You were trying to protect us. Taking the Finds back to the Reclamation Fields. You couldn’t have known.” And the same detachment filled Lotus’s answer. As if we were two actors playing out a scene. Saying the things we knew we should.

  “I should’ve listened to you,” I insisted.

  The night before Sarika had come to live with us, after our parents had died, the three of us had sat—perched on our wide, lumpy bed—trying to decide what to do with our naming gifts.

  “We can’t get rid of them.” Lotus leaned toward us, her hair falling in front of her face as she spoke in an intense whisper. As if she could compel us to agree by sheer force of will. “They’re the only bit of Mom and Dad we have left.”

  I wanted to give in, but instead I steeled my heart against her. “No. We can’t keep them anymore . . . not with Sarika moving in and the Abuelos searching for dissidents.”

  I looked to Tasch for support. But Taschen surprised us both, clutching the book of fairy tales to her chest. “It’s my birthright.”

  The stubborn streak—so obvious in Lotus and me—rarely surfaced in Tasch. But when it did, there was no hope of changing her mind.

  She stuck her chin out, face unrepentant. “Why should we be condemned for stories?”

  I’d known then that we had a problem. Tasch’s words were treasonous. For all of Lotus’s brashness, she knew when the words she spoke were dangerous, and she knew when to keep quiet. But Tasch’s idealism could get her into trouble now that the world was a lot less ideal. It could get us all into trouble.

  Sarika being in our house made things extra tricky. She’d changed after Marisol left. Sarika became fervent in her belief that the new outbreaks were punishment for questioning God and our way of life. And there was nothing Marisol could’ve done to hurt her more than falling for a Curador. I suspect Marisol knew that. She and her mother had never gotten along and Sarika had seen Marisol’s decision to become a Curador’s lover—a Kisaeng—not just as a personal attack, but as a message from God. One more sign of how the Citizens were going astray.

  So even as we had cut open the mattress and hid the naming gifts, even as Tasch had closed the hole with her invisible stitches, I’d known the Finds would have to go. Before we all got exiled. I just hadn’t known it would take eight months before I’d get the chance to do something about it. And in the end, hadn’t I made it worse?

  It hurt to looked at Lotus, standing there on the outskirts of the Indigno camp—her whole face taut with the effort of holding herself together. Of being strong.

  And like earlier that morning in the quiet of the desert, I opened my eyes and let myself see the truth, as it was.

  “I am so sorry I left you alone. I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I missed you . . . I missed you both so much . . .” But words were such useless things. So I pulled Lotus to me. And she broke, sobbing in my arms.

  I knew that that was the first time she had cried for Tasch. And that she’d saved her tears in order to share them with me.

  I returned her gift.

  And something happened. As we cried there in the desert, Lotus’s tears filled in the rifts. They pieced together the shreds. Putting me back together. Because in all the world, only Lotus knew my grief over losing Tasch. Only Lotus knew what it meant, not only to lose Tasch now, but to have lost her two years ago. To have lost them both. And what it was like to be together again, but still incomplete, fractured even in our reunion.

  Our tears didn’t lessen the pain of losing Taschen. In fact, the pain was bigger between us, but it was shared now. And that made it bearable. That made it right. That made it possible to carry.

  When we came down into the Indigno camp, we were sisters again. And it was like a broken miracle. I never thought I’d get to see Lotus again. Never thought I’d get to have a family again. And I tried to imagine what it must have been like for Lotus. No sisters, no parents. It was no wonder she’d left Pleiades . . . she’d already lost her home.

  Lotus led me down into the valley and introduced me to her new home with obvious delight. Actually the place was less like a valley and more like a wide, multilayered reclamation pit. Stretched out in front of us was a maze of exposed ruins, just below ground level. Half of the ruins were covered with tarps and makeshift roofs. The other half were open to the air.

  There were lower levels as well—stair-stepping down toward a wall of mountains. The bottom one was planted with corn and beans and swaths of other vegetables. Just like the name Indignos, they had taken the curse of Tierra Muerta and claimed it for their own. Filling the empty spaces and bringing the crumbling buildings to life.

  And everywhere there were people, men and women doing a hundred busy things. Patrolling the boundaries. Making dinner. Chopping wood.

  “How many of you are there?” I asked.

  “Probably about eighty or so, by now. The first Indignos left Pleiades about seven months ago, when Red Death got really bad. But the number grows every week.”

  When we finally reached the bonfire in the center of camp, Alejo was waiting for us. He handed us plates of food, piled with vegetables and thick stew. Unseen by Lotus—who dug into her food like she hadn’t eaten in weeks—Alejo studied her for a moment, his eyes lingering on the grimy tear tracks snaking down her face. His worry was replaced by relief and Alejo gave me a slight bow of gratitude as he handed me my own plate.

  I nodded back, equally grateful that Lotus had someone, as I took a seat on one of the old tires arranged in a huge circle around the flames. I didn’t realize how hungry I was until I smelled the meaty stew—likely contraband from one of the Indignos raids. The dog was evidently hungry too. Eyeing my plate, she came right up to me. Light brown patches rimmed her eager eyes, making them stand out against her otherwise black fur.

  Her closeness made me nervous and I kept one eye on her as I picked up a bit of squash. Her ears perked up. She licke
d her lips, exposing a mouthful of white teeth. And when the dog nosed at my knee, I instinctively flung the food as far away as possible. Anything to get her away from me. She ran over to it—all lanky legs and giant feet—and gulped it down without chewing. Then she came back for more.

  One of the Indignos laughed. “The pup always knows who’s a chump!”

  I glared at the dog. “Well, pup. You’ll have to fight me if you expect to get any more.”

  I forced myself to ignore her, giving myself over to the meal. Pausing just long enough to guzzle some of the drink I’d been given. You could barely call it mezcal, it was so bland and weak. I dug my own bottle of mezcal out of my pack. After they’d reunited me with Lotus, I was glad I had some way of saying thank you to the Indignos.

  Alejo cracked a smile. “I knew we should take you with us! She comes bearing gifts!”

  He raised the bottle up high and a cheer went up from the crowd around the fire. Then Alejo offered the bottle to Jaesun, who unscrewed the cap and took a swig. A look of total pleasure came over his face. “Now that is mezcal.” His voice was almost reverent.

  A profound hush fell over the fireside as the bottle was passed around—sip by sip—and by the time it got to me, I was bewildered by the spell this mezcal had cast. I took a drink and memories of Pleiades flooded over me.

  This was Sarika’s brew. I knew every subtle taste. Every secret ingredient. Hell, I’d probably stood side by side with her and my sisters, helping to craft this batch. In fact, I was sure I had. There was a strong scent of strawberries to it and I remembered the huge floods that spring—a little over two years ago—that’d caused the red berries to pop up everywhere.