Dry Souls

by Denise Getson

  “Of course it’s important!” he shouts, startling me. “What you can do is amazing. But is he really trying to help you, Kira? From where I stand, it looks like you’re the only one doing any helping around here. We’re still his prisoners, you know.”

  “I’m sure we can leave soon.”

  “Not so fast, Kira,” says Thorne, stepping into the room. “I need you here a little longer.”

  I send him a confused glance. “I don’t understand. I mean, it worked, didn’t it? I filled the Opawinge?”

  “No.” His tone is somber. “I’m sorry. It didn’t work.”

  “But….” I don’t know how to absorb it, the sudden breathtaking sense of failure. I lean against the wall, one hand pressing against the sick feeling roiling in my belly. Why must my emotions always go straight to my stomach? I glare up at Thorne. “If I didn’t do it, why didn’t you let me try again? I thought…” I gaze at J.D. in dismay and embarrassment. He must think I’m a total idiot. I turn back to Thorne. “You should have told me. You should have told me right away. If I’d had more time….”

  “It was evident to me that you weren’t ready, Kira. That’s why we left. There’s a barrier you haven’t crossed yet. Perhaps because you’re still young. It’s like any other talent. You need to develop it. You need to practice on smaller, more manageable efforts.”

  “I’ve done that!”

  “I can work with you. I can help you,” he says, his tone soothing. “Then, when you’re ready, we’ll go back. We’ll make it work.”

  I can’t believe it didn’t work. I whirl and smack the wall, wincing as the pain shoots up my arm. It felt like it worked. It felt inside like I had the power to make it happen. I turn and glance at J.D. His eyes are wary, guarded. Suddenly, I’ve got to get out of here.

  “I left my pack downstairs,” I say shortly. “I’m going to get it.”

  When Thorne came upstairs, he must have dismissed the guard, because there’s no one in the hallway to witness my dash from the room. I reach the first floor, and my pack is resting on a hall table. The door leading outside is ajar, and I step forward. Maybe I can get away for a bit. I want to wander the streets until I shake off this funk, this awful feeling that I’ve lost it. I’ve lost the only thing that made me special in the world.

  Before I can step outside, Thorne’s voice stops me.

  “You can do it, Kira,” he says softly. “You felt it at the Opawinge, didn’t you? You felt that power inside you.”

  Slowly, I turn and face him. This man knew my mother. Perhaps he even had feelings for her. And he wants to help me. He’s going to help me learn how to use my gift so people can be saved. That’s what’s important. I mustn’t be impatient. That’s always my problem. I take a deep breath and try to answer him honestly.

  “I thought I did. I felt…something.” I shrug. “Maybe it was only my imagination.”

  He shakes his head. “It wasn’t your imagination. You’re very close. You’re going to make it happen, Kira.” He gestures up the stairs. “Now, why don’t you spend some time with J.D.? I’m sure he missed you.”

  I resist the urge to roll my eyes. He certainly hadn’t acted like he missed me. “Yeah,” I mutter finally, glancing back at the door to the outside, to freedom. “Sure.” I take my pack from the table and head upstairs.

  When I get to the room, it’s empty. “J.D.?” I drop my pack on the bed and step back into the hall. “J.D.?” There’s no answer. That’s odd. Where’d he go?

  “It’s up!”

  I jump when J.D. grabs my shoulder, his voice whispering urgently into my ear. I send him a baffled glance. “What are you talking about?”

  “The water! The lake! It’s up!” He takes my hand and drags me toward the stairs. “Thorne didn’t want you to know. He wanted you to doubt yourself. I don’t know why, Kira. Maybe he wanted you off balance so he could control you. He wanted you to think you needed him. But you don’t. You don’t have to doubt yourself. It took some time, that’s all. It didn’t fill in a rush or a flood— maybe it was just a trickle—but it did fill.”

  I clamber behind him as he pulls me up flights of stairs, my mind trying to grasp the full import of what he’s saying. Is it possible? No. Surely not.

  “There was just something about Thorne,” he says. His voice is low, but insistent. “You were so sure you’d filled the Opawinge, and I believed you. Then Thorne gave us all that stuff about you not being ready. It didn’t feel right, not when you’d been so certain. I’ve never seen you so exuberant, so sure of yourself. Don’t forget, I’ve seen what you can do. So, when he left to look for you, I decided to investigate.”

  On the top floor, J.D. steers me into a richly paneled room and turns me toward the window.

  “Look. There. Between those two buildings. See?”

  I look where he’s pointing; desperate to see what he believes is there.

  “I don’t see anything.”

  “It’s blue. There’s a shimmer just above the water. Look into the distance.”

  I look, and look again. I squint and scan. And then, I see it. Between a crack in the city skyline, there’s a slice of blue. I inhale a sharp breath. J.D.’s right. The lake is full.

  “I did it,” I whisper numbly.

  J.D. turns me by the shoulders and gives me a slight shake. “We have to get out of here, Kira. Can’t you see what’s going on? He doesn’t want you to know because he doesn’t want you to leave. Ever.”

  My hands are shaking. I hear the words, but it’s like something’s gummed up the works. My brain can’t process them correctly. Slowly, it starts to sink in—I did make the water. The lake is full, and Thorne’s been lying to us, to me, the whole time.

  “Take the boy.”

  Thorne’s voice is flat, freezing the room for a split second before things break loose. A guard rushes into the room. I move to block J.D., but I’m not fast enough. The guard lifts me out of the way like I was a sack of beans while another one of Thorne’s henchmen twists J.D.’s arm behind his back. In a flash, J.D. back-kicks the man’s knee with a sickening crunch, bringing him to his knees. Then he runs at my guard, who drops me and advances to meet J.D. with a right hook to his jaw.

  J.D. dodges the blow.

  “Get out, Kira!”

  I dart toward the door, ducking as Thorne reaches for me. His hand misses my collar but manages to grab hold of the hair at the back of my head. He wrenches his arm back, jerking me off my feet. I yelp with the pain, my hands reaching behind me to claw at Thorne’s wrists.

  By now, two more guards have entered, grabbing J.D. and knocking him out cold. They carry him from the room, while I kick and struggle, cracking the back of my head against Thorne’s face. It feels good to hurt him. He swears and crushes me so tightly I think I feel a rib crack. With a jerk, he tosses me across the room. I collapse against the wall. Quickly, I try to figure the best way to launch a new attack. Where are they taking J.D.? I have to get to him. Thorne sees my intention and steps between me and the door, blocking my exit. The man with the soothing voice who coaxed me to believe in myself has disappeared.

  “You lied to me,” I say bitterly.

  “Kira, listen to me. I had good reason.”

  “I did fill the Opawinge, didn’t I?”

  He nods. “It’s not full, yet. But, the water level is rising. It will be full by the end of the week.”

  “Then I did what you asked. I refilled the Opawinge. I’m done now. You promised to let us go.”

  He sighs, rubbing his hand over his face. “Like you said, I lied.”

  “Why?”

  “I need you too much,” he says. “The Territory needs you too much. I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want to hurt J.D. But this is bigger than one person. Try to understand. I’m trying to save an entire planet.”

  “But I want to save the planet, too. We want the same thing.”

  He folds his arms and leans against the wall tiredly. “I’d love to let you go, but I can’
t. I can’t risk something happening to you. It’s a dangerous world out there. And it’s my job to manage natural resources. Like it or not, Kira, you’re a natural resource.”

  “What are you afraid of,” I sneer, “that if you leave me unattended for even a minute, I’ll report you to the authorities?”

  He gives me a weary smile. “Report me to whom, Kira? I already act on the highest authority. There’s no one for you to report me to and no one who would care if you did.”

  I believe him. He has all the power here. All I have is my ability to make water. How can I leverage that to help J.D.?

  Reluctantly, I change my tone. Maybe conciliation will work where threats won’t. “If you let me go, I can make lots of water, Thorne. I can fill rivers and lakes and I know they won’t be clean and everything, but you’ll clean them, and you’ll put in the stuff they need to be living water systems. With my help, you can fix things.”

  He regards me solemnly. “With your help, I am going to fix things.”

  I shake my head, pressing one hand to my side. “I don’t understand.”

  “It’s delicate, Kira. I don’t expect you to understand. Believe me, the welfare of the Territories is my first concern, but there’s a process which must be followed. A fragile balance of power and resources must be maintained. We don’t want to recreate another situation of having unregulated population growth. Right now, the population continues to dwindle, and we help regulate that with our distribution of resources. It’s unclear yet how the rapid rate of mutations will affect civilization. I assume, at some point, our population will reach stasis. We’ll become balanced at a sustainable level. The genetically strong will be all that are left, an accelerated demonstration of survival of the fittest.” He steps away from the wall. “That’s when we’ll rebuild in earnest, Kira. And yes, you will be a vital part of that development. You’ll make water strategically, when and where it’s most needed.”

  I stare at him in horror. He’s talking about a lifetime of servitude. There’s no telling how long it could take for him to fulfill his plans. When we were on the chopper headed to the Opawinge, I’d gotten the idea that he cared about the land and the water and the people who depended upon it. And for a minute in the aquifer, I’d even gotten the impression that he cared about me. Stupid, stupid girl. Now everything’s all mixed up. Everything seems to depend upon a political agenda I can’t comprehend.

  “It’s wrong to ration the water if I—if we—can make plenty of it. People’s lives matter,” I say finally, finding my voice.

  “People’s lives matter to them. But in the big picture, some people’s lives matter more than others. That’s just the way it is and always has been. Every species has a pecking order, a hierarchy. Human beings are no different. You’re sentimental because you’re young. But water’s a commodity. And when it’s scarce, it becomes valuable currency. It’s important to ensure that the strongest and most deserving have their needs met first. It’s how we help the population and the planet achieve balance during this delicate period. The Council determines who gets their ration, who doesn’t, and who gets a little extra for good behavior. Soon, as this phase of evolution has played itself out, we’ll have a clearer picture of what our future resource needs will be.”

  “But evolution takes centuries. What can you do in one lifetime?”

  “Evolution can be shaped and encouraged, if you know what you’re doing. And history has shown us that there are occasional leaps, sudden appearances of something new and unexpected in the genetic soup. In just the last three generations, we’ve seen remarkable transitions. It was the fallout from the Devastation that did it. New chemicals or viruses entering our body and interacting with something. I’m not sure what. We’re still trying to figure it out—something smaller and more fundamental to life than even DNA. Your ability to call forth water is just one example of how the universe is responding to this challenge.”

  He pushes himself away from the wall. “We may not understand it all just yet. But the best scientific minds are working on it. This is a dangerous time we’re living in, Kira, but it’s also a time of exciting possibility.”

  “Not for most people. Not everyone feels a sense of possibility. For most people it’s only a question of how many days or weeks or months they can survive.”

  “Yes. And that’s unfortunate. But not everyone will succumb to an early death, Kira. Some inhabitants will adapt to the new toxins in our environment. At the cellular level, people are changing into something different. Soon, human achievement will be nurtured again and individuals with beneficial mutations will be protected. People like you.”

  “But to take away people’s water…” I mutter numbly.

  “We don’t ‘take it away,’ Kira. Circumstances have done that. We moderate the distribution of what’s left. That’s all. And we’ll moderate the distribution of what you produce. It’s how we maintain order. The rules and the rationing actually help people to feel safe, to feel looked after in this big, scary world.”

  “You’re deluded. Who do you know who feels safe?”

  “Compared to where we’ve been, people are safer. There’s less ambiguity, you see, about what life has in store for them. And it’s been years since there was any threat of imminent attack from our enemies, because people in every part of the world are simply too busy trying to survive to the next day. People don’t have time to get into trouble when they’re thirsty. They can’t make war. They don’t have the energy for petty squabbles or to kill or steal for political gain…”

  I consider the bandits who’d captured me. “But they’ll kill to survive. And if they’re thirsty enough, they’ll steal the water.”

  “But they can’t, Kira. We control all the clean water, or at least we did until you got it into your head to fill the Dead Lakes. The Lakes are, indeed, a very big target for anyone insane enough to try and take control of it. Naturally, we’re already moving to control that situation. It’s to our advantage that this area’s largely uninhabited. It gives us time to put a plan into place before word spreads and people begin to flock here. We’ve posted toxic warning signs around the perimeter of the lake and we’ve started spreading various rumors to account for the sudden appearance of the water. Most people are sheep, Kira, deep down. They’re followers. They want someone to tell them what to do. And don’t forget the universal fear of anything out of the ordinary.”

  “They might be afraid at first, until they realize there’s nothing to fear. They’ll drink the water, and when nothing happens, they’ll know it’s safe.”

  “But something will happen, Kira,” Thorne says softly. “They’ll drink the water, and they’ll die. If not on their own from natural causes then with a little help. All it takes are a few deaths and the rumors and the fears will grow. It’s unfortunate that some have to die, but in the long run, it will protect our ability to control the population, which is in everybody’s best interests.”

  His voice is so calm, so rational. I want to scream with frustration. I can feel the thin thread of control I’ve been clinging to unraveling. There’s something terribly wrong here. Maybe it’s true that sometimes lives have to be sacrificed for a greater cause. I’m not sure. But where’s the good in this? Thorne’s way can’t be right.

  “Eventually, we’ll funnel the water we need to sanitation facilities for cleaning and storage,” he continues. “The fact that the lake has water again is just a glitch we’ll turn to our advantage. It changes nothing. We still control the source and the distribution of the territory’s water.”

  “You don’t control me.” I snap.

  He turns casually and moves to a control panel on the wall. One touch of his hand has a section of the wall sliding back to reveal a communications switchboard and screen. “Don’t I?”

  With a press of a button, the screen comes to life. I move closer, my fingers twitching. On the screen I can see J.D., curled into a fetal position on the floor of a bare room. There’s blood smeared on
his cheek. He’s not moving.

  Back in my room, limbs tremble and fingers clatter clumsily as I reach for the bedrail and miss, stumbling dizzily. I’m suddenly aware of fragility. My own and J.D.’s. I’m not equipped to deal with this situation. I don’t know what to do. How am I going to save myself? How am I going to save J.D.?

  I gaze unseeing out the window. Absently, I’m aware that evening is sliding over the city. Darkness creeps across roads and buildings. And it’s creeping inside me, too. No matter how hard I think, I can come up with only one idea. I’ll have to work for Thorne and the Territory Council for the rest of my life. I’ll make water when and where he directs. Isn’t that what my mother did? And in return for my compliance, he’ll have to let J.D. go free. But he’ll be free without me by his side. I’m unable to hold back a low whimper. A stab of pain in my gut has me clutching the bed. I inhale slowly through my nose and exhale through my mouth. Inhale. Exhale. After a minute, the pain subsides.

  Of course, Thorne is a liar. Once you know a man is a liar, he can’t be counted on to tell the truth about anything. Anything. Carefully, I stand on shaky legs and begin to pace the small confines of the room, turning my eyes away from the sight of J.D.’s empty bed. How many nights have I fallen asleep listening to his gentle snore? His small slices of breath in the night are familiar and comforting. I have a sudden memory of his hands. I like his hands. I like the way his slender fingers move expertly over equipment or hurl stones with startling accuracy. My observations of him feel like tiny secrets. But I’m not the observant one, not really. It is J.D. who watches things. He watches everything. He pays attention. Not like me. I’m always the oblivious one. Think, Kira, think.

  I hear a tray of food being placed outside my door. When did I eat last? I had nuts and dried fruit on the chopper. That was a lifetime ago, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters but saving J.D..