Lotus and Thorn

by Sara Wilson Etienne

  A little sunshine for the winter, Sarika had said, her hands stained red with the juice. Grinning, Tasch had dumped them into the pots by the handful, infusing the whole batch with berries before we bottled it. And when we’d first tasted it, it’d had the same effect on us. A sort of joyous, burning euphoria warming our throats.

  What were the odds that Edison would give me this bottle—Sarika’s bottle—of mezcal? It was hard to believe it was a coincidence. And he’d known about Lotus and Tasch too—asking about them before I ever mentioned I had sisters. The puzzle of it turned uneasily in my mind.

  The bottle was finished off, and as dusk descended on us, strings of lights flickered on around the camp—giving it a bright, festive feel.

  “How did you manage that?” I asked, instantly wondering how much power still ran to this place. How much of the wiring was still functional. What that could mean to a group of exiles trying to build a new community.

  Jaesun flicked his head toward Lotus. “It was your sister’s doing.”

  “Yeah?” I turned to her, taking a sip of the Indignos’ poor excuse for mezcal. Lotus looked proud and there was an open confidence there. Despite everything that’d happened, this place and these people had clearly been good for her. I found myself wanting to understand more of what was happening here.

  “When we were digging out the fields for crops, we found power lines and water pipes that were still intact. I figured out how to splice into the circuits and ta-da!” Lotus put her hands up, gesturing at the lights.

  “We’d like to get lighting inside the camp too,” she said, pointing at the tarp-covered ruins behind us. “But the wiring in the walls is kind of a mess. And I only know what you taught me.”

  Lotus raised an eyebrow at me, her question implied.

  I took after my mother—because we were both small, we’d been scouts out in the Reclamation Fields. This whole valley was basically one vast graveyard. According to the Rememberings, the Colony had been smashed by the fist of God.

  But under the sandline, a whole world remained. Basements and underground apartments. Winding concrete tunnels. Rows and rows of rusty vehicles. This is where Pleiades’ salvage came from.

  In the Fields, whenever they were ready to open a new pit, small test holes were dug until someone hit something promising. The holes were barely big enough to crawl down into, but there was less risk of a cave-in that way. Scouts like me were the first ones in, checking if the ruin was worth excavating or not. It also fell to us to make sure none of the wiring was still live when the blasters and diggers moved in.

  It was dangerous work. And it wasn’t pleasant. Sometimes the ruins were caved in, unrecognizable. But other times, it was like walking into a frozen moment. Tables set for dinner. Little skeletons tucked into bed.

  And every scout had their thing—the thing that kept you from going crazy while you were down there in the crushing dark, with the dead. Mom’s was books. Mine was electronics. Switching gadgets on, seeing if they still worked. Peeking inside. Most times the power was already dead when I got there. The sockets and switches useless. But if I was lucky, electricity was still flowing. Scouts were taught enough about wiring so they could cut the power safely. But before I cut . . . I learned.

  “Already trying to get me to do your work, huh?” But Lotus knew me too well. She knew I was itching to get a look at this place. “Fine. I’ll check out the wiring tomorrow.” And I’d find out what shape the radio was in too. Though now that I’d found Lotus, it seemed almost like an afterthought.

  I helped myself to more stew and asked, “How do people find out about this place? I mean, my crew didn’t have any idea you guys were even out here.”

  Jaesun took a slow sip of the Indignos’ mezcal, then answered. “First thing you need to know is, a lot’s changed while you’ve been out here. Red Death’s getting worse and the Curadores’ Gratitudes are getting smaller. More salvage for less food. Most folks inside Pleiades aren’t ready to give up on it yet, but tensions are running high. People are hungry and desperate and searching for hope wherever they can find it.”

  I looked around the fire. Despite the generous meal, the Indignos were still too thin and too tired, but there was a sense of purpose about them. They held themselves tall and seemed to trust the others around them. I found myself wanting to trust them too.

  “And what do the Abuelos have to say about this place?” I asked, taking another bite.

  “Nothing,” Jaesun said. “They pretend we don’t even exist. They want to go on acting like everything’s fine in Pleiades. Like nothing’s happening. Same with the Curadores mostly.”

  “Why?”

  Jaesun tossed back his mezcal and locked eyes with me across the fire. “Because a place like this calls into question everything our society is built on. Cleansing the land. Redemption. If those things weren’t the core of our life . . . if Citizens stopped digging the reclamation pits . . . how else would the Curadores get their supplies? How else would the Abuelos stay in power?” Jaesun challenged. Then he asked casually, “How do you like your dinner, by the way?”

  The beeph was flavorful and tender, and much richer than usual. “Best meal I’ve had in almost two years.” I thought of the tamale I’d eaten at the Festival and took another big bite.

  “It’s rabbit, trapped out here in Tierra Muerta.”

  I spit out the half-chewed food and the pup snatched it off the ground—gulping it down. The Indignos around the fire laughed.

  “Don’t worry.” Jaesun speared a bite from my plate. “We’ve been eating them for months. Not a single soul here has gotten sick.”

  “It’s not true, then? The animals aren’t infected?”

  “Not that we’ve seen,” Jaesun said.

  “That means . . .”

  “Here it comes.” Alejo grinned. “She’s got it.”

  “That means that we don’t need the Curadores’ chiken,” I said.

  “Take it further,” Lotus said, nodding.

  “You said you found working water pipes?”

  “Yep,” said Alejo. “And you saw the crops.”

  “Then . . . maybe . . .”

  “Maybe we don’t need the Curadores for anything.” Lotus grinned.

  The idea felt almost blasphemous. Trading with the Dome had been our way of life for so long. Without the Curadores, the Citizens wouldn’t survive long enough to find redemption.

  But what if we didn’t need redemption?

  CHAPTER 10

  THAT NIGHT, I slept next to Lotus in one of the tarp-covered structures. Lotus, Tasch, and I had always shared a room. So lying there in the dark, listening to the rhythm of Lotus’s breath, to her getting settled in her sleeping bag, was a little like being home again.

  But something kept needling at my thoughts. “What did Alejo mean about Tasch? About her death not being right?” I hated to bring it up. Hated to hurt Lotus more, but I needed to know. Lotus stayed silent, but I knew she wasn’t asleep—her thoughts were loud in the little room. “Tell me.”

  “When Tasch got sick . . .” Lotus was so quiet I could barely hear her. “Her symptoms were strange.”

  “Strange?”

  “Not at first. She came back from the Reclamation Fields with her eyes bloodshot and then the fever came on, like it always does. But it was too fast.” The awfulness of that day was heavy in her words. “Like she was being burned from the inside out. One moment, she was begging us to help her and the next”—Lotus’s voice went cold—“she was just gone. There wasn’t even any blood.”

  “Did anyone else get sick?” I thought of Suji’s symptoms coming on fast like that. But it’d been different in my crew. There had been blood. More than I wanted to remember.

  “Fifty people in our building alone . . . in barely more than a day. They all died. All went the same way. And then the sickness disappeared ag
ain as quick as it came. It wasn’t like any epidemic I’d ever seen. It was . . .” She hesitated, then repeated Alejo’s word: “Wrong.”

  “You think Red Death is changing?” I thought about what Edison had said about evolution. About things adapting.

  “Maybe. Or maybe someone’s changing it.”

  I wasn’t exactly sure what Lotus was getting at, but I’d seen the look she and Alejo had shared when he’d brought it up—the conversation they’d had without ever speaking. There was more to this than she was saying. But I’d learned not to press Lotus, not if I wanted answers.

  Instead, I let her ask her own questions. “What was it like out there?”

  I knew what she meant. Technically, this camp was in Tierra Muerta, but it was nothing like the rest of the wasteland.

  “It was dangerous.” I thought of Suji’s blood dripping from my knife. My silenced crew, dead and burnt to ash. “It was terrible.”

  “I missed you.” Lotus rolled over and laid her head on my shoulder.

  “Me too.” And the feeling of my sister next to me made me feel more whole and more broken at the same time. Searching for comfort, I said, “Once upon a time . . . there were three beautiful sisters—”

  “No.” Lotus’s voice was tight. “Not without Tasch.”

  I tucked my arm around her. “You’re right. Not without Tasch.”

  Lotus’s head grew heavy on my shoulder. I closed my eyes too, but sleep left me stranded. Everything from today—the Indignos, Edison, Tasch’s death, the radio—ran around in my brain, arranging and rearranging themselves. Trying to find a shape that made sense. I’d been tossing for an hour when I heard scratching noises near my sleeping bag.

  My eyes flew open to see the dog staring back at me. I held still, not daring to move in case she turned on me. But the pup just sniffed my blankets and flopped down on Lotus’s and my legs. As her warm body heated my feet, sleep called to me and I finally answered.

  • • •

  The pup was gone when I woke up. I climbed out of my sleeping bag, feeling restless and exhausted at the same time. It was still early and only a few other people were up. I found an empty patch of sand by the fire and started running through fighting maneuvers by myself.

  I wasn’t alone for long. I did a spin kick and found it parried by Jaesun. He threw a punch and I blocked it. Then he pulled two pairs of fighting sticks out of his belt and tossed me a set. “Let’s see if you’re your father’s daughter. Your dad was always bragging about your extra fingers. Your secret weapon, the way he told it.”

  With the Pleiades’ fighting elite as the camp’s guards, it didn’t surprise me that Jaesun had known my father as well. There was a challenge in Jaesun’s words, but it seemed more curious than malicious. I made a show of getting a feel for the sticks—weighing them in my hands—all the while sizing him up. Tall for Pleiades. Big arms.

  But I was short—so everyone I fought was bigger than me.

  As we circled each other, I came awake. A quiet alertness flowed through my muscles as I studied the way Jaesun moved. And the way he watched. He was older, slower, still stiff from the injury I’d given him a few days earlier. Grey tufts marked his eyebrows, and beneath them were cautious eyes. This was someone who’d experienced pain and assumed life had plenty more of it to give him.

  I was used to using my compact body and my speed as my primary weapons, and that would work well here too. That, and the fact that everyone underestimated me.

  Jaesun swung out, his impassive face giving nothing away. I dodged his stick, then came in with a blow to his stomach with my own. I skittered out of his reach—the satisfaction of a good hit still ringing through my muscles. His beard camouflaged his twitch of a smile, but I still caught it as we circled each other again.

  My goal was to make as little contact as possible. Only strategic strikes. If Jaesun got a grip on me, the fight would be over. So it became a game of cat and mouse. A dance almost. The kind I loved.

  Jaesun feinted to the right, then moved in left, kicking up. I dodged again, but this time his kick landed, knocking the wind out of me. “Careful, little mouse.”

  But even as Jaesun goaded me, I was riding the kick’s momentum—using it to spin out so I ended up behind Jaesun. Then, with my stick, I thwacked the back of his supporting leg, buckling it.

  “Don’t have to be careful when I have such a lazy—”

  I don’t know how, but Jaesun managed to catch himself. Just barely. And he rammed his elbow back into my ribs.

  Just before I went down gasping, I thrust my stick into his back—knocking him off-kilter again. Then he was belly down and I was on top, holding his face to the sand.

  Muffled laughter came from him and I rolled off, catching my breath—letting my own smile out.

  “Well,” he said, “that was fast. I can’t say if it’s your extra fingers or not. But you certainly got something going for you. We’re lucky you and your sister are on our side.”

  Our side. Was I?

  Still shaking the sand out of our pant legs and hair, we joined the group over at the bonfire. The smell of cooking food woke up my stomach too.

  “I see you’ve been making friends.” Lotus wiped a smudge of blue dust off my face before handing me a steaming cup of something. I took a sip from the mug and spit it out. “What is that?”

  A smile quivered at the edge of Lotus’s mouth. “Nettle tea. It’s not so bad once you get used to it.”

  I took another sip. “Mmmm . . . Dear sister, you’re right. A little like chewing grass.” I tried to sound grumpy, but I broke. That made Lotus crack too and her laugh sounded like the most right thing in the world.

  I’d barely shoved a corn cake in my mouth when Lotus said, “Time to get going.”

  “But . . .” And I looked longingly at the fire and the hot griddle lined with baking golden cakes.

  “Cakes or wires, your choice.” But she knew my curiosity would win out.

  “Fine.” I compromised, grabbing a still-doughy cake off the griddle, almost burning my fingers. Then I followed her through the layered ruins—making our way down winding, broken cement steps.

  So far, the Indignos were only using the top level of the ruins for their camp and the bottom for fields. But in between was a sort of tiered city. Each level had a long row of houses facing the nearby mountains. The houses all shared walls with each other, so they were a little like our apartments in Pleiades.

  “Why haven’t you opened these up? The Indignos could be living here.” I peered into the dim spaces; plenty of room for a family.

  “That’s the hope. But we’ve barely had time to get a sense of what’s down here. Or whether it’s stable enough. Right now, the top camp has electricity and water and latrines. But if we can get this up and running, the place would start to feel like a real home.” She didn’t ask the question, but I heard it anyway.

  I gazed around at the crumbling buildings. What treasures were hidden inside them? What possibilities? What if we actually used the things we’ve been purging all these years?

  “You were born to do this, Leica! You were always the practical one—logistics and plans. Even out in the Reclamation Fields, you were clever about this stuff.”

  And I knew she was sweet-talking me. But the thing was, she was right. I could do it. Not alone, of course. But I could do this. “Okay. We’re gonna need a light and some paper to map this place out with. A pickax, pliers—”

  “You’ll find everything you need in the workshop. And if not, you’ll find something else that can do the job.” She led me down more stairs, past a cornfield and another field that was only dirt—either just planted or about to be—and finally to a wide shed.

  Inside, lights blinked and flashed everywhere. Wires and cables coiled across the dirt floor like snakes. The whine of live circuits sang deep in my bones. The sensation
was heady and disorienting at the same time.

  “What is all this?”

  “It’s not nearly as impressive as it looks.” Alejo ducked out from behind a jumble of machinery. He flashed Lotus a smile and I could see why she liked him. A couple of years had turned his injured stubbornness into a kind of roguish strength. “Mostly it’s just bits and pieces we’ve salvaged and cobbled together.”

  “What for?” I left the sunlight behind, walking deeper into the flickering, whirring rhapsody. I’d messed with some of this stuff—computer monitors and beeping toys—while I was scouting. But there were new things here too. Things I’d never seen before.

  “Well, some of it runs the lighting for the camp.” Lotus pointed to nest of power cords running from a large, humming control box. There must have been fifty circuit breakers inside—handmade labels haphazardly stuck next to switches. “We’re experimenting with other stuff . . . trying to figure out what it does. And then there’s a whole bunch of salvage we’re just breaking down for parts.”

  I had a horrible thought—my eyes scanning the piles of scrap electronics for the radio. “And the stuff from the shuttle?”

  “Over there. We haven’t even had a chance to see what we’ve got. Wanna do the honors?”

  I nodded, kneeling by the slideboard, which hadn’t even been unloaded, and started sorting through the parts. It was slow going. I picked out pieces I remembered from the shuttle’s dashboard—knobs and buttons, the radio’s microphone—but they were mixed in with all the other salvage.

  “What’s so special about this thing?” Lotus grabbed the transmitter, turning the black box in her hand, as she and Alejo crouched next to me on the dirt floor.

  All the fairy tales Lotus and Tasch and I had made up about Earth came flooding back to me. What would Lotus think about a real one? I took a deep breath, and told her about the voice on the radio.

  Lotus looked skeptical at first, then stunned. But Alejo was shaking his head.