Parched

by Lou Cadle

  Sierra picked up the wire basket and checked the eggs. None were cracked, luckily. She hooked a finger over the wire handle and watched the two hug. Dev had put his rifle on the ground before Zoe arrived, and he had stepped away from it. He swung her around and Sierra tried not to feel jealous of their closeness.

  But she did sometimes.

  Joan came walking over next. Sierra didn’t see her at first, she was so focused on Zoe and Dev, but Joan called out her name. Sierra dragged her eyes away from her daughter and turned to greet Joan. “How’d it go?”

  “Could have been worse. Could have been better.”

  “What did you think of them?”

  “Good people in a bad situation.”

  “I guess that’s all of us.” Her fingers were going numb, and she transferred the wire basket to her other hand. “This used to have a wooden grip on it. Everything is falling apart.”

  “You could replace the wood easy enough. We seem to have plenty of that.”

  “I know. I think I prefer complaining to working at some chore like that.”

  “You work plenty hard.” Joan looked at Dev and Zoe. He was explaining something to her, and she didn’t look happy about it. “She’s a beautiful child. So open and loving.”

  “That’s Dev’s doing. And Kelly’s. I’m not a big part of who she is.”

  “Of course you are. She’s half you. More than half. You carried her in your body; you fed her from your breasts. I remember you doing all your chores with her slung on your chest.”

  “Long time ago,” Sierra said.

  “You know, if you want to be closer to her….” Joan shook her head. “Never mind. It’s none of my business.”

  “No, go on.” Sierra turned her back on Dev and Zoe and spoke quietly. “Say whatever you’re thinking.”

  “If you want her, fight for her.”

  That took Sierra back. “I don’t want to take her away from the Quinns. They need her. She needs them.”

  “I’m talking about adding, not subtracting. She gets the family she loves, but she gets more of you too. I can see it’s important to you. So work on it as if it is.”

  “I don’t know the first thing to do.”

  “Listen. Laugh with her. Watch how Dev is with her. You were good with my kids when they were close to that age.”

  “They’re great people. You raised them well.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Of course you did!”

  “I have regrets. Every parent does.”

  “What are yours?” Sierra thought about it. “Emily?”

  “Mostly her, yes. Sometimes at night, I stay awake and wonder what I failed to do that could have brought her back to the land of the living. Back to whole.”

  “That might have been outside your control. She’s fine though. Wary of strangers, but that’s a sane attitude, considering. We all are, and she’s simply a little more wary than average.”

  “I’d love to hear her voice again. Or her new voice, her adult voice. She was a chatterer before all that, you know.”

  “I didn’t. I don’t think you ever told me that.”

  “Your daughter is headed back over here. Have fun with her. Try to remember what you did with my kids.”

  “Less pressure with other people’s,” Sierra said.

  “Isn’t that the truth?” She patted Sierra’s arm. “You’re a good person. I’m off to talk to Pilar. I need help at my place if I can borrow him from you.”

  “Sure. I’m not sure where he is. I didn’t see him come back.”

  Zoe came up, a little mopey-looking. “Dad says I should stay here until he’s done.”

  “What’s he doing?”

  “Walking the road, he said. Keeping us safe.”

  “Then I’ll have to take my turn later.”

  Zoe perked up. “So I could go with you?”

  “It’s better to do that alone, so you can hear noises.” She was sorry she couldn’t offer her daughter what she wanted, something Dev couldn’t give her. But Zoe’s safety was more important than Sierra’s own feelings. “I tell you what, let’s work hanging the grain. That’ll be fun.”

  Zoe’s face screwed up in a doubting expression.

  “The barn is cooler than out here in the sun. We’ll see which one of us can throw the rope over the rafter best, in the fewest throws,” Sierra said.

  “What’s the winner get?” Zoe said.

  “Um, I don’t know. What do you want?”

  “I want to play Life.”

  “Life?” The old board game—it had been her mother’s—was falling apart, and they hadn’t played that in at least a year. Maybe two.

  “I like the money part.”

  “Old-fashioned stuff, money.”

  “But fun.”

  “Okay, it’s a deal.”

  “It’s not a deal until you say what you want if you win.”

  Sierra did not plan on winning. “Just a hug,” she said.

  “That’s too easy.”

  “A long hug. And don’t forget, it’s hot. A hug long enough to make you want to jump into the freezer.”

  Zoe thought about it. “Okay. Deal.”

  “Let me put the egg basket inside the back door.”

  Zoe ran ahead to the barn. Sierra didn’t feel like a very fun person right now, but she’d try and work at it. Joan was right. Sierra had to fight—not Dev, not Kelly, not anyone else but herself—to bring herself and her daughter closer. Or she’d live to regret it.

  No, that was wrong. She already regretted it. It was past time to try and make this right.

  Chapter 6

  “But Dad,” Zoe said.

  Dev glanced down the hall to make sure his parents weren’t around. He was leaning in her door while Zoe packed. “Don’t let your grandpa hear you whine.”

  “He says his bark is worse than his bite.”

  “It won’t be for long if you whine.”

  “Do I get to at least see the lady?”

  “If she comes. They were supposed to decide that last night. Either the pregnant lady will come here today, or they all have to leave.”

  “You won’t hurt them?”

  “I don’t plan on it,” he said, feeling a twinge of guilt at the lie of omission. If he had to, he would. His mom and Sierra were going to pick up the pregnant woman and bring her back here. She was moving into Zoe’s room—Dev’s old room—for the duration. Dev slept on the sofa these days, or out on the porch where it was cooler. And they all wanted Zoe safe over at Pilar and Sierra’s house. “It’s only for a week or two.”

  “Grandma said she didn’t know when the baby was coming.”

  “No, there’s no way to know that. They come when they do.”

  “Do you remember when I came?”

  “Every second of it.”

  “Were you happy?”

  “Of course. And scared and nervous and excited and all kinds of things.”

  “I want to watch.”

  “No. Sorry, Punkin. That’s a private thing, and not many ladies want an audience of strangers.”

  “Did Sierra?”

  “There weren’t any strangers around to watch. Just us.” She did want someone to yell at. But absent a target for her screams, she seemed okay with simply yelling curses in an empty room. His father hadn’t been able to take it. “Such language from a girl,” he had said, and left to go hunting. “Your mother was in a lot of pain when she had you. I remember that.”

  “Like when I sprained my ankle that time?”

  “Worse. Like stubbing your toe hard, or that time you stood under the open cabinet and whacked your head.”

  “That stung. But only for a second.”

  “Sierra hurt like that for ten or twelve hours.”

  Zoe got a thoughtful look on her face. “Do you think she’s still mad about it?”

  “No. She was never mad at you.” At me. And during labor at whoever poked a head in. At his mom. At Pilar. At Mother Nature. “You weren’t
there yet to be mad at. By the time you were there, she didn’t hurt any more.”

  “Is the new lady going to be mad?”

  “I don’t know. Probably more scared than mad. She’s going to be in a strange place, with strangers all around, and she’s sick, and that all has to be pretty scary, I would think.”

  “I don’t want to ever go anywhere strange, not without you. Not even if I’m sick.”

  “You’ll never have to. Now hurry up your packing. They’ll be here soon.” That is, if everything went okay. Sierra and his mom were both armed, and so if things did not go well, they’d be able to get out of the problem. He wasn’t so sure about Sierra these days, about her ability to kill if necessary, except that his mom was with her. He knew Sierra loved his mom and would do anything she needed to protect her.

  His mom could take care of herself—as she’d told his father in no uncertain terms this morning. “Arch, you can’t come. You’ll make things worse. I’m trying to de-escalate the situation.”

  “What if they say no to both things? The woman won’t come, and they won’t leave?”

  “Then we’ll deal with it—either Sierra and me, or we’ll come back and fetch a bigger group to chase them off an hour later. Arch, I’m really not in the mood here.”

  His mother must be really worried about the pregnant woman. She seldom got short-tempered with his father.

  “Do you have your pajamas?” he said to Zoe.

  “Yeah.”

  “And do you want your whale?” His mom had made her a stuffed whale from scraps of clothes when she was three. She had loved that thing hard. Much repaired, it sat on the top shelf of the closet now, at the front where she could see it. If she took it down to cuddle these days, it was not while he was watching.

  “No. I’m not a baby anymore.”

  “You’re my baby. Always.”

  “Dad,” she said, with a dramatic eye-roll. “I’m almost ten.”

  “Time flies,” he said.

  “No it doesn’t. It doesn’t go fast at all. It crawls like a worm. I’m going to be at Sierra and Pilar’s forever.”

  “Not forever. A week or so, maybe. We’re right here if you need us. But I don’t want you bothering the pregnant lady. If you decide you want your whale or forgot something, I want you to find your grandma or me, and we’ll get it for you. Don’t bug the stranger. She’s sick.” And possibly dangerous, which was part of why he wanted Zoe next door.

  “Why don’t her friends come with her?”

  “There’s not room for all of them. And they need to hunt, so we can’t all use the same part of the woods for that.”

  “We can feed them.”

  “No, Punkin, we can’t. We barely have enough food for us. I used to be fatter than Santa Claus.”

  “There’s no Santa Claus.”

  “That’s because he shrank away from hunger. And became me.”

  Another eye-roll, but she was fighting a smile. He’d lower himself to any form of clowning to get her to laugh. She said, “He could have eaten his reindeer.”

  “Great idea.” And what a happy Christmas tale that would make. Post-apocalyptic Rudolph steaks.

  “We’re going to feed the pregnant lady, aren’t we?”

  “Of course. Your grandma will make sure of that.”

  “Grandpa won’t yell at her?”

  “Your grandma will make sure of that too, I imagine.”

  “You don’t yell either.”

  “Me neither. And I’ll be over every day to see you—at least once, probably a lot.”

  “Pilar and Sierra like you.”

  “I like them.”

  “I mean, they’d let you stay and eat there and so on.”

  “Think of it as an adventure,” he said. “Maybe I’ll farm you out to Curt the week after that, and to Joan the week after that.”

  “How can you farm people? Farms are for plants.”

  “And you’re a punkin, which is a plant. Simple as can be.”

  “You’re being silly again, and I know why,” Zoe said. But she was packing again with more speed.

  “Why?”

  “Because you’ll miss me too and you’re trying to not be sad.”

  “That’s one hundred percent correct,” he said. “Sometimes I miss you when you’re only on the other side of the house.”

  “I know,” she said. “I can feel you missing me.”

  “I wouldn’t doubt it. Now finish up there, and I’ll walk you over.”

  “It’s just next door. I’ve been over there a million and one times.”

  “You used to sleep there every night.”

  “I don’t remember.”

  “When you were a baby. For almost three years, every night. And then you were there sometimes and here sometimes.”

  “All I remember is here, and this room. This is my house.”

  “For as long as you want it to be.”

  “Why would I ever want anything else?”

  “You might get married one day and go off with your husband.”

  “No, I don’t think so,” she said, but not like a little kid. She was considering it, rejecting the notion. “I’ll be more like you.”

  He hoped not. But he didn’t know what he could do to arrange a normal life for her. His mother had said there was a boy around thirteen with this new group, and probably one or two other children she hadn’t seen. Maybe everything would work out with these people, and they’d stay down there, and Zoe would have, if not a husband one day, at least a playmate or two. He’d like that for her. “Ready?” he said.

  “I guess.”

  “Sure you don’t want your whale?”

  “I’m sure. I’m not scared. I’ll miss you, not the whale.”

  “I know. Maybe I’ll sleep with the whale so I don’t miss you as much.”

  She shook her head at him. “I’ll say goodbye to Grandpa first.”

  “He’ll like that.”

  She left, and he stripped her bed to make life easier for his mother, who had placed a spare set of fresh sheets on the top of the dresser before she left, but she said to leave them there until they knew if the pregnant woman was coming or not. She already did too much around here, and she wasn’t getting any younger. Both his parents were over fifty.

  Time did fly. Too fast. He’d freeze it right here if he possibly could, or freeze it at two days ago, with Zoe nine and no strangers down the hill.

  Three hours later, his mother was back with the pregnant woman, Janine. She was tall and incredibly pregnant. Sierra hadn’t ever gotten that big, had she? His mother settled the woman in the kitchen with a bowl of fruit and some cold javelina meat, and then had him put down a thin plastic tarp onto the bed and an old quilt before they put the sheets on. “She might bleed, and we don’t have extra mattresses.”

  “Is she doing okay today?”

  “You can ask her. Okay, that does it. You go on outside after you speak to her and get back to whatever you need to do.”

  “Eggs again, and I want to scrub the perches with the gray water so they’ll be dry by nightfall. And then Dad wants to set up a trip wire again.”

  “Your father,” she said, shaking her head. “Well, I know he just wants to keep us safe.”

  “That’s what he wants most.”

  “We’ll be safe.” She raised her eyebrows and canted her head toward the kitchen.

  Meaning, he supposed, with woman held as a hostage.

  A strange kind of hostage situation it was, though, with his mother caring for her and his family feeding her food they really couldn’t spare. Dev knew his father wasn’t happy about it, but whatever his mother had said to him, he was going along with it for now.

  The woman Janine had turned the javelina to nothing but bones.

  He said, “You know where the bathroom is?”

  She nodded, wiped her lips with the back of her hand, and said, “Thanks.”

  “No problem. Let me know if you need anything.” Dev went
outside to resume his regular chores, hoping his mother would yell good and loud if the woman became any sort of problem.

  Chapter 7

  Sierra let Zoe take a break from work. The day was hot, as always, and there wasn’t a hint of a cloud in the sky, though it was well into normal monsoon season now. She should stop thinking of the old normal, which was as gone as gasoline stations.

  Lily, the wolf-dog, was back from its wandering, and Zoe was over beyond the wind turbines, trying to convince it to come out from under the trees and chase a stick. Lily was having none of it, sticking to the shade, and Sierra kept a close eye on the dog. She didn’t think it would attack Zoe, who weighed nearly as much as the dog now—somewhere above seventy pounds, they estimated—but it would definitely go for the hens, who were safely locked away so they didn’t even tempt the animal.

  “Don’t run,” Misha said, as Zoe trotted over to retrieve the stick herself. “Always walk when she’s around, so she doesn’t think of you as prey. She’s been in the wild for a couple of weeks, and it always takes her a day or two to remember her manners.” Misha had followed the wolf-dog to keep an eye on her too.

  Still, despite Misha’s supervision, Sierra wasn’t willing to turn her back on the dog for long. She had garden chores to do, and pretty soon she was going to ask Misha to try and get Lily back to her place so she didn’t have to keep her eye on it.

  One end of the garden was drying out, and she believed there was something wrong with the olla system that delivered water underground. She was digging it up, foot by foot, looking for breaks in the tubing.

  The tubing was getting old and brittle—what wasn’t around here?—and there was always the possibility that a burrowing animal had bitten through to get to the water. That was another horrible thing about the drought, that it meant a constant battle with animals over the plants with their life-sustaining moisture. Smelly weeds planted around the garden partly disguised the scent of water-laden vegetables, and traps within the garden caught some squirrels and rats. Pilar had shot a few of the bigger animals when they had ammunition, but now they were saving the few bullets they had left for a human attack, not an animal one. And burrowing animals were almost impossible to battle.

  Her spade struck a rock, she bent down to tease it out of the ground, and Zoe screamed.