by Moira Young
It ain’t my fault yer the tallest thing around, I says. You make a good sunshade.
Hey! He pushes me onto my back.
I push him with my foot. Hey yerself! I prop myself up on my elbows. Well, I says, would you?
What?
Miss me.
Don’t be stupid, he says.
I kneel in front of him. He looks at me. Lugh’s got eyes as blue as the summer sky. Blue as the clearest water. Ma used to say his eyes was so blue, it made her want to sail away on ’em.
I’d miss you, I says. If you died, I’d miss you so much I’d wanna kill myself.
Don’t talk foolish, Saba.
Promise me you won’t, I says.
Won’t what?
Die.
Everybody’s gotta die one day, he says.
I reach out an touch his birthmoon tattoo. High on his right cheekbone, jest like mine, it shows how the moon looked in the sky the night we was born. It was a full moon that midwinter. That’s a rare thing. But twins born unner a full moon at the turnin of the year, that’s even rarer. Pa did the tattoos hisself, to mark us out as special.
We was eighteen year our last birthday. That must be four month ago, near enough.
When we die, I says, d’you think we’ll end up stars together, side by side?
You gotta stop thinkin like that, he says. I told you, that’s jest Pa’s nonsense.
Go on then, if you know so much, tell me what happens when you die.
I dunno. He sighs an flops back on the ground, squintin at the sky. You jest … stop. Yer heart don’t beat no more, you don’t breathe an then yer jest … gone.
An that’s it, I says.
Yeah.
Well that’s stupid, I says. I mean, we spend our lives doin all this … sleepin an eatin an fixin roofs an then it all jest … ends. Hardly seems worth the trouble.
Well, that’s the way it is, he says.
You … hey Lugh, you wouldn’t ever leave without me, would you?
Of course not, he says. But even if I did, you’d only follow me.
I will follow you … everywhere you go! When I say it, I make crazy eyes an a crazy face because it creeps him out when I do that. To the bottom of the lake, I says, … to the ends of the earth … to the moon … to the stars …!
Shut up! He leaps to his feet. Bet you don’t follow me to skip rocks, he says an runs off.
Hey! I yell. Wait fer me!
We run a fair ways out onto the dry lakebed before we find water enough to skip stones. We pass the skiff that Pa helped me an Lugh build when we was little kids. Now it lies high an dry where the shoreline used to be.
We walk till we’re outta sight of the shanty, outta sight of Pa an Emmi. The fierce noonday sun beats down an I wrap my sheema around my head so’s I don’t fry too much. I wish I took after Ma, like Lugh, but I favor Pa. It’s strange, but even with our dark hair, our skin burns if we don’t cover up.
Lugh never wears a sheema. Says they make him feel trapped an anyways the sun don’t bother him none. Not like me. When I tell him it’ll deserve him right if he drops dead from sunstroke one day, he says, well if that happens you can say I told you so. I will, too.
I find a pretty good stone right off. I rub my fingers over its flat smoothness. Feel its weight.
I got a lucky one here, I says.
Lugh hunts around to find one fer hisself. While he does it, I walk up an down on my hands. It’s about th’only thing I can do that he cain’t. He pretends he don’t care, but I know he does.
You look funny upside down, I says.
Lugh’s golden hair gleams in the sun. He wears it tied back in one long braid that reaches almost to his waist. I wear mine the same, only my hair’s black as Nero’s feathers.
His necklace catches the light. I found the little ring of shiny green glass in the landfill an threaded it on a piece of leather. I gave it to him fer our eighteen year birthday an he ain’t took it off since.
What did he give me? Nuthin. Like always.
Okay I got a good one, he calls.
I go runnin over to take a look. Not as good as mine, I says.
I’m gonna skip eight today, he says. I feel it in my bones.
In yer dreams, I says. I’m callin a seven.
I whip my arm back an send the stone skimmin over the water. It skips once, twice, three times. Four, five, six …
Seven! I says. Seven! Didya see that?
I cain’t hardly believe it. I ain’t never done more’n five before.
Sorry, Lugh says. I warn’t lookin. Guess you’ll hafta do it agin.
What! My best ever an you didn’t … you rat! You did see! Yer jest sick with jealousy. I fold my arms over my chest. Go on. Let’s see you do eight. Betcha cain’t.
He does seven. Then I do my usual five. He’s jest pullin his arm back fer another try when, outta nowhere, Nero comes swoopin down at us, cawin his head off.
Damn bird, says Lugh, he made me drop my stone. He gits on his knees to look fer it.
Go away! I says, flappin my hands at Nero. Shoo, you bad boy! Go find somebody else to—
A dustcloud’s jest appeared on the horizon. A billowin orange mountain of dust. It’s so tall, it scrapes aginst the sun. It’s movin fast. Headed straight at us.
Uh … Lugh, I says.
There must be somethin in my voice. He looks up sharpish. Drops the stone in his hand. Gits slowly to his feet.
Holy crap, he says.
We jest stand there. Stand an stare. We git all kinda weather here. Hotwinds, firestorms, tornadoes, an once or twice we even had snow in high summer. So I seen plenty of dust storms. But never one like this.
That’s one bastard of a cloud, I says.
We better git outta here, says Lugh.
We start to back away slow, still starin. Then, Run, Saba! Lugh yells.
He grabs my hand, yankin at me till my feet move, an then we’re runnin. Runnin fer home, fast as wolfdogs on the hunt.
I look over my shoulder an git a shock. The dustcloud’s halfways across the lake. I never seen one move so fast. We got a minute, two at most, before it’s on us.
We cain’t outrun it! I yell at Lugh. It’s comin too fast!
The shanty comes into view an we start to shout an wave our arms.
Emmi’s still ridin around on her two-wheeler.
Pa! we scream. Pa! Emmi! Dust storm!
Pa appears in the doorway. Shades his eyes with his hand. Then he makes a dash fer Emmi, snatches her an runs full pelt fer the unnerground storm cellar.
The cellar ain’t more’n fifty paces from the shanty. He hauls up the wooden door set into the ground an drops Emmi inside. He waves his arms at us, frantic.
I look back. Gasp. The great mountain of orange dust races towards us with a roar. Like a ravenous beast, gobblin the ground as it goes.
Faster, Saba! Lugh yells. He rips off his shirt an starts wrappin it around his face.
Nero! I says. I stop, look all around. Where’s Nero?
No time! Lugh grabs my wrist, pulls at me.
Pa yells somethin I cain’t hear. He climbs into the storm cellar an pulls the door to.
I cain’t leave him out here! I pull myself free. Nero! I yell. Nero!
It’s too late! Lugh says. He’ll save hisself! C’mon!
A fork of lightnin slashes down an lands with a almighty crack an hiss.
One Missus Ippi, two Missus Ippi, three—
There’s a sullen rumble of thunder.
Less’n a league! Lugh says.
Everythin goes black. The cloud’s on us. I cain’t see a thing.
Lugh! I scream.
Hang on! he yells. Don’t let go!
The next thing I know, a tingle runs across my skin. I gasp. Lugh must feel it too because he lets go my hand like he’s bin scalded.
Lightnin’s comin! he yells. Git down!
We hunker down, some ways apart. We crouch as low to the ground as we can git. My heart’s stuck in my throat.
One more time, Saba. If lightnin catches you out in the open, whaddya do?
Crouch down, head down, feet together, hands on knees. Don’t let my hands or knees touch the ground. That’s right, ain’t it, Pa?
An never lie down. Don’t ferget that, Saba, never lie down.
I hear Pa’s voice loud an clear in my head. He got struck by lightnin as a boy. Nearly got killed from not knowin the right thing to do, so he’s made damn sure we all know what to—
Crack! The darkness splits open with a bright flash an a slam boom. It sends me flyin. I bang my head aginst the ground—hard. Try to pull myself up but fall back. Dizzy. My head spins round an round. I groan.
Saba! Lugh shouts. Are y’okay?
Another flash an boom splits the darkness. I think it’s headed away from us, but I cain’t be sure, my head’s so muddled. My ears ring.
Saba! Lugh yells. Where are you?
Over here! I call out, my voice all thin an shaky. I’m here!
An then Lugh’s there, kneelin beside me an pullin me up to sit.
Are you hurt? he says. Are y’okay? He slips his arm around me, helps me to stand. My legs feel all wobbly. Did it hit you?
I … uh … it … knocked me offa my feet, is all, I says.
Then, as we stand there, the dark rolls away.
An the world’s turned red.
Bright red like the heart of a fire. Everythin. The ground, the sky, the shanty, me, Lugh—all red. Fine red dust fills the air, touches every single thing. A red red world. I ain’t never seen nuthin like it before.
Me an Lugh stare at each other.
Looks like the end of the world, I says. My voice sounds muffled, like I’m talkin unner a blanket.
An then, outta that red dust haze, the men on horses appear.
There’s five of ’em. Ridin sturdy, shaggy coat mustangs.
Even in normal times we don’t git folk passin by Silverlake, so it’s a shock to see strangers blowin in on the tail of the worst dust storm in years. The horsemen pull up near the shanty. They don’t dismount. We start over.
Let me do the talkin, Lugh says.
Four of the riders is dressed in long black robes. They got on heavy leather vests strapped over top an sheemas wrapped round their heads. They’re dusted head to foot with red earth. As we git closer, I can see the fifth man’s our neighbor, Procter John. He’s ridin his horse, Hob.
As we come in earshot, Lugh calls out, Strange kinda day fer a ride, ain’t it, Procter John?
Nobody says nuthin. Their sheemas cover the riders’ faces so’s we cain’t see their expressions.
Now we’re right up near ’em.
Procter, Lugh nods. Who’s yer friends?
Procter still says naught. Jest stares down at his hands holdin the reins.
Look, I whisper to Lugh. Blood trickles out from unner Procter John’s hat, snakes down his face.
What’s goin on here? says Lugh. Procter? By the sound of his voice, I can tell he thinks somethin ain’t right about this. Me too. My heartbeat picks up.
Is this him? says one of the men to Procter John. Golden Boy here? Is he the one born at midwinter?
Procter John don’t look up. He nods. That be him, he says in a low voice.
How many years you got, boy? the man says to Lugh.
Eighteen, says Lugh. What’s it to you anyways?
An you was fer definite born at midwinter?
Yeah. Look, what’s all this about?
I told you he’s the right one, says Procter John. I should know. I bin keepin a eye on him all this time like you told me to. Can I go now?
The man nods.
Sorry, Lugh, says Procter John, still not lookin at us. They didn’t give me no choice.
He clicks Hob an makes to leave. The man slides a bolt shooter from his robe. I know he must be movin fast, but it all seems to go so slow. He pulls the trigger an shoots Procter. Hob rears in fright. Procter slides off an lands in a heap on the ground. He don’t move.
A cold jolt runs through me. We’re in trouble. I grab Lugh’s arm. The four men start movin towards us.
Fetch Pa, Lugh says. Quick. I’ll draw ’em away from the house.
No, I says. It’s too dangerous.
Move, gawdammit!
He turns. Starts runnin back towards the lake. The men heel their horses an head after him. I run like stink fer the storm cellar, fast as my feet’ll carry me.
Pa! I yell. Pa! Come quick!
I look over my shoulder. Lugh’s halfways to the lake. The four riders is spreadin out to make a big circle. Lugh keeps runnin, but he’s caught in the middle. They start to close in, tighten up. They’re trappin him. One unhooks a rope from his saddle.
I pound my foot on the door of the storm cellar.
Pa! I scream. Pa! Open up!
The door creaks open. Pa’s head appears.
Are they here? he says. Have they come?
You seen this comin. You read it in the stars.
Four men! I says. Quick! We gotta stop ’em!
Emmi, stay here! Pa scrambles outta the cellar. They cain’t be stopped, Saba. It’s begun.
His eyes look flat. Dead.
No, I says. Don’t say that.
Now Lugh’s trapped by the circlin horsemen. He darts at a gap. They block it. He stumbles, falls, picks hisself back up agin. In the dusty red haze, it don’t look real.
Don’t jest stand here! I yell at Pa. Help me!
I dive into the shanty. Grab my crossbow, sling my quiver on my back. Grab Pa’s bolt shooter. Empty. I throw it down with a curse. Snatch up his crossbow an quiver.
I come runnin out.
Pa! I yell. They got Lugh! I grab his arm, give him a hard shake. This is real! You gotta fight!
Then it’s like he comes to life. He pulls hisself tall, his eyes spark an the Pa I remember’s back. He hauls me to him, holds me so tight I cain’t hardly breathe.
My time’s nearly up, he says quickly.
No, Pa!
Listen. I dunno what happens after this. I could only see glimpses. But they’re gonna need you, Saba. Lugh an Emmi. An there’ll be others too. Many others. Don’t give in to fear. Be strong, like I know you are. An never give up, d’you unnerstand, never. No matter what happens.
I stare at him.
I won’t, I says. I ain’t no quitter, Pa.
That’s my girl.
He takes the crossbow. Slings the quiver on his back.
Ready? he says.
Ready, I says.
We start runnin. Runnin towards Lugh an the men on horseback.
One of the riders is loopin his rope into a lasso.
Load! yells Pa. We each snatch a arrow. Load.
The roper twirls the lasso once, twice. Throws.
Aim! yells Pa.
The lasso grabs Lugh’s leg. The roper yanks on it, brings him down.
Fire! yells Pa.
We let fly. The arrows land short.
Load! Pa yells agin.
The roper an another rider leap offa their horses. They flip Lugh onto his back. One sits on him. Th’other one yanks his arms over his head, ties his wrists together, then his ankles.
Stop! says Pa. Let him go!
We’re still runnin. We take aim. One of the mounted riders turns. Sees us comin at ’em. He raises his bolt shooter. He fires.
Pa cries out. His arms fly up in the air.
Pa! I scream.
He staggers. He falls.
Pa! I throw myself down beside him. The bolt’s gone right through his heart. I grab his shoulders, pull him up. His head flops forwards.
No! I shake him. No no no no no no no! Don’t do this, Pa! You cain’t die! Please don’t die!
I give him another shake. His head lolls back.
Pa, I whisper. I’m froze. I cain’t move. He’s dead. They’ve killed my pa.
A wild rage rises up in me. Red hot. Floodin me. Chokin me. I grab my crossbow. Leap to my feet an start runnin towards the men
. As I run, I load my bow.
Aaaaaah! I scream. Aaaaaaah!
I take aim. I shoot. But the red hot’s makin my hands shake so much that I shoot wild. The arrow flies wide.
A shot comes whistlin at me. Sharp pain. Right hand. I cry out. My bow flies from my hand.
I keep runnin.
I burst past the horses, throw myself at the man tyin up Lugh. We roll on the ground, over an over. I kick at him, punch at him, screamin. He pushes me off. He’s on his feet. Grabs my arm, hauls me up, slams me down. I land on my back. I gasp. Gasp. Cain’t breathe. Cain’t breathe. Cain’t git my breath.
Then. Then.
I pull myself to my feet an face ’em, swayin.
The four horsemen’s all down on the ground now. On foot. They surround Lugh. They don’t even look my way. It’s like I ain’t here. Like I don’t exist.
I hold my bleedin hand to my chest. Let him go, I says.
They don’t pay me no heed.
Lugh raises his head. Eyes wide. Face white. Terrified. Like I ain’t never seen him before.
I step closer. Take me with you, I says.
The one in charge jerks his head. They lift Lugh an sling him over one of the horses.
Please, I says. Please … take me with you. I won’t give you no trouble. Jest don’t leave me here without him.
They tie him to the horse. The rider holds the horse’s reins an jumps on behind one of th’other men. They start to move out in a swirl of red dust.
Lugh! I cry. I run alongside him. I gasp. Cain’t git a breath.
Lugh lifts his head. Our eyes meet. Lugh’s eyes. Blue as the summer sky. I grab his hands.
I’ll find you, I says. Wherever they take you, I swear I’ll find you.
No, he says. It’s too dangerous. Keep yerself safe. You an Emmi. Promise me you will.
They grab Hob’s rope as they pass. They’re takin him too.
They break into a canter.
I cain’t keep up. My hand slides away from Lugh’s.
Promise me, Saba, Lugh says.
I keep runnin after ’em.
I’ll find you! I scream.
They disappear into the red haze.
Lugh! I scream. Lugh! Come back!
My legs go out from unner me. I fall to my knees.
Emmi comes runnin outta the storm cellar. She stops. Stares at the hazy red world. At Procter John, lyin next to the hut. Then she sees Pa.
