Wanderers

by Susan Kim

  The redness behind her eyes seemed to bloom into an obliterating brightness as Esther sensed the walls around her start to give. Her lungs exploding, she fought her way through the shimmering wall in front of her as she broke free.

  And then she was safe. As she took in shuddering gasps of air, she was enveloped in arms that were warm and gentle. Far above her, she sensed a face gazing down at her own, a face that was both kind and strong.

  Esther wanted to see who it was. She needed to see for herself, once and for all, the face of her rescuer.

  Her mother.

  But she could not make out her features.

  Esther jolted upright. In the moonlight, Caleb lay next to her in bed, awake. He was propped up on one elbow, watching her.

  “What were you dreaming about?” he said.

  Already, the images of her dream were rushing away. “I think it was my mother,” Esther said. “I never knew her. But I guess nobody does.”

  Caleb nodded and Esther realized too late that he might be thinking of his first partner, Miri. She had been murdered the year before when her son, Kai, was only an infant. But Caleb gestured for her to keep talking and, after a moment, she did.

  “I wonder who she was.” Moonlight streamed in the curtainless window, casting shadows on the bed. “Just a girl, I reckon. Nobody special. I bet she wanted to take care of me. Protect me from bad stuff. Keep me fed. The only one who did that for me was my sister.”

  At the mention of Sarah, Caleb spoke up. “You were lucky.”

  Silence filled the darkness between them. Esther knew he was thinking about his older brother, Levi: ruler of the Source, provider of Prin, and his enemy. She had never learned what happened between the two boys on the day of the fire that destroyed the Source and killed Levi; Caleb never spoke of it. But it was clear it still haunted him.

  She touched his cheek, cradling it in the warmth of her hand. It had been forever since they had last spoken like this, just the two of them. The apartment had become so crowded, it seemed, with so many things and people to look after.

  “We’ll take care of each other now,” Esther said.

  He seemed to have the same thought, for they turned to each other at the same time. Caleb kissed her cheek, then her lips. She responded, her hand moving beneath the sheets, caressing him.

  “I love you,” he whispered.

  It had been so long, too long, since they had last touched each other; they both missed it too much to say. Esther clung to his shoulders, shifting to be beneath him. Caleb yanked the sheet from her, pulling her oversize T-shirt above her knees, and higher.

  Then he stopped.

  “What is it?” she whispered, her arms around his neck. But he was alert to something she did not understand.

  Then Esther became aware of it, too.

  It was smoke.

  Joseph had thought the cats were just being friendly.

  As he lay asleep, Stumpy had begun kneading him, digging her claws into his leg. Then Malawi stood on his chest and started to scream.

  Groggy, he had tried to shoo away and silence them, to no avail. Then he attempted to ignore them, burying his face into his pillow.

  This had been the first night Joseph had managed to get much sleep in Esther and Caleb’s apartment. Following the destruction of his home, he’d found out that living with other people took getting used to: It was certainly more difficult than just existing alongside animals. His first nights on Esther and Caleb’s lumpy living room couch had been miserable bouts of tossing and turning, as he thought longingly of his cluttered rooms in the deserted hotel, full of his books, clocks, homemade calendars, newspaper clippings, and, most precious of all, his solitude.

  Naturally, he was grateful to Esther and Caleb for taking him in, along with his ten cats and the few books he had been able to save. Still, he mourned the loss of his old life.

  Now, even as his breathing slowed and he began sinking into his first real dream in what felt like months, Joseph was dragged back to consciousness, almost literally, by Stumpy’s insistent scratching and pummeling.

  “Mahhh!” Malawi yowled, not giving up, either.

  At last, Joseph sat up, exasperated, his hair standing on end as if awakened, too. Stumpy held on to his thigh, undeterred.

  “What is it!” he exclaimed.

  Then he smelled it. Something was burning.

  His eyes already stinging, Joseph remained upright in bed for a few moments, stunned and immobile. Then he kicked off the covers, scattering his cats.

  Moonlight revealed that smoke was billowing across the floor in dense waves. Caleb and Esther had already come in, Esther holding a lit candle as she carried the still-sleeping Kai. Caleb was going from room to room, looking for the fire. When he returned, his face was grim.

  “It’s downstairs,” he said.

  Esther was at the window, opening it to the night air. In her arms, Kai had awoken and was beginning to whimper. Coughing, Joseph began shepherding his cats across the windowsill and onto the fire escape, but they needed little encouragement. Soon, everyone was outside on the rickety metal staircase, climbing down toward the sidewalk.

  Caleb had already dropped to the ground and entered the front door. Once Esther was able to hand the baby to Joseph, she joined him. Inside, a small but smoky fire was burning in the back of their storefront, at the foot of the stairs. Large pieces of soot blew through the air.

  Puzzled, Esther stood by Caleb’s side. The fire was nothing more than damp paper and twigs, which explained all the smoke. As a result, it hadn’t burned very hot and was in fact dying, unassisted, at their feet.

  “Who would do this?” asked Esther.

  Caleb shook his head, bewildered. Then there was a shout from outdoors.

  On the sidewalk, Joseph was so agitated, he could barely get the words out. With Kai in his arms, he pointed at the open window above them and then down the street.

  “A boy. Someone. He jumped down and ran!”

  Understanding dawned on Caleb’s face.

  “He must’ve been hiding in the stairs,” he said. “When he set the fire, he figured we’d go out the window. That gave him time to go upstairs.”

  “To do what?” Esther asked.

  “Steal.”

  Esther was uncomprehending. It made no sense that someone would go to so much trouble.

  Caleb shrugged. “All he got was flour. And it’s mostly rotted. There’s nothing to do but go back to bed.”

  Indignation flared in Esther’s breast. “But it’s wrong.”

  Caleb placed a hand on her shoulder. “Let it go.”

  But she would have none of it. Then another thought struck her. “The extra quail we saved. The one Skar gave us.” After all the time she and her friend had put in that day, the thought of anyone stealing their supplies, as meager as they were, made her doubly furious. She turned to Joseph.

  “Watch the baby,” she said. “Please.”

  And with that, Esther took off in the direction her friend had indicated, still barefoot and wearing only her oversize T-shirt. Unable to stop her, Caleb had no choice but to follow.

  Esther sprinted down what remained of the central street of Prin, Caleb close behind. Clouds darkened the sky and made it hard to see; still, they barreled past the devastated storefronts that served as makeshift homes for the rest of the town.

  Esther stopped and, after a moment, Caleb caught up with her. He had never fully recovered from the old arrow wound in his chest; and now he had trouble breathing.

  Then they both heard it.

  It came from the side of the street, in the shadowy wreckage of DEL’S FROZEN YOGURT: a faint rustling and the unmistakable sound of breathing, quick and shallow. Esther turned and cocked her head, as if locating its source through hearing alone. Then, without a word, she sprang into the darkness, a vengeful hawk after a mouse. There was a cry, and a moment later, she dragged a struggling figure onto the street.

  The bag of flour dropped from the
thief’s hands and broke open, its contents spilling in a faint cloud of white by their feet.

  The crook glanced up, helpless, as the clouds shifted and the moon shone down. It was a boy, perhaps eight years old. He was emaciated, and the features of his face, already sharp, were made even more distinct by the shifting shadows.

  His expression was a mixture of defiance and terror. Then despair seemed to overtake him; his eyes briefly closed and reopened. When he spoke, his voice was fatalistic, as if coming from one much older and wearier.

  “My shoes,” he said. “They ain’t no good.”

  Esther and Caleb glanced down at his filthy feet. They saw the remains of what had once been sport sandals, the reason he was unable to run any farther.

  They knew who he was, of course. Silas lived in the remains of the library, near the end of Main Street, with several others his age. They were scavengers, living off garbage and whatever else they could scrounge. Now he and his colleagues had apparently turned to thievery as well.

  Still gripping him by his collar, Esther shook him once, hard. “You got anything to say?”

  “Not much.”

  “No?”

  He shrugged. “Everybody got to eat.”

  “Where’s the bird you took?”

  The boy just shrugged again. “Musta dropped it.”

  He was too tired to care, and too young to be up so late in the first place. But his reaction infuriated Esther. As she raised her hand, the boy wrapped his arms around himself, bracing for her attack. Then Caleb grabbed her from behind.

  “Okay,” he said, as she bucked in his arms. “That’s enough!”

  Esther stopped struggling. She stayed still, panting, her head against Caleb’s chest.

  “Go on,” Caleb said to the boy. “Get going.”

  Silas glanced up, surprised. Then he turned and within moments, melted into the darkness.

  “You should have let me at him,” Esther said after a pause. Her voice was hoarse.

  Caleb shook his head. “We’re done with fighting. I am, anyway.”

  Unexpectedly, he let her go, and she almost stumbled. Then he picked up what remained of the flour and started for home, without waiting for her.

  Esther stood alone, breathing hard.

  Caleb’s words stung. Only recently, he had spent months immersed in violence and revenge, hunting down the variants he believed had murdered his partner and stolen his son. If he was able to renounce all of that, what was wrong with her?

  Esther wasn’t proud of the fact she had always been impulsive and hotheaded. True, some of it had burned off when she learned how to love first Caleb, and then Kai. But the terrible times they were living in brought out the worst in everyone.

  Moments earlier, she had nearly beaten a starving child. Two months ago, it was an act Esther would have not only despised but been incapable of. That Caleb had kept her from doing so made her both proud of him and ashamed of herself.

  As Caleb reached their building, a penitent Esther ran to catch up with him. Then they climbed the stairs together, in silence.

  Joseph was sitting in their bedroom, next to the cradle Caleb had fashioned for Kai from an old shopping cart. The baby had gone back to sleep, and Joseph, too, was fighting to stay awake.

  “Thanks,” Esther said. Joseph gave an awkward wave and then trudged to the living room, a cat at his heels.

  Caleb and Esther got into bed, still not speaking. Then she touched his arm. “I—” she began, then stopped.

  He glanced at her. It was clear the mood had been broken; there was no recapturing their interrupted intimacy. But that was not what she wanted.

  “There’s no staying here no more,” she said in a rush. “We got to leave.”

  For a moment, Caleb didn’t understand. “Leave?” he repeated. “What do you mean?”

  “Prin.”

  He didn’t respond, but neither did he pull away when she draped her arm across his chest. After a few minutes, he rested his hand on hers.

  They remained like that, silent and awake, until the sun rose.

  Two

  THE NEXT DAY, CALEB LOOKED OUT UPON A SEA OF FACES. THE NOISE was deafening.

  The people of Prin were in the town meeting place, the glass and brick building at the end of the main street with the mysterious yellow arches outside. This was where impassioned yet orderly gatherings used to take place, where public business was done. But soon after the destruction of the Source, the assemblages had begun to fall apart. As the famine had grown more severe, they had degenerated into complete chaos. Meanwhile, the boy Rafe, who had once enjoyed the privileges of being town leader, had quietly relinquished the position, leaving the town without any direction at all.

  Today, Rafe sat with the others at one of the many plastic tables molded to the floor. He watched Esther and Caleb with open curiosity, as if to say, let’s see how well you can do.

  Neither Caleb nor Esther had ever called a meeting before and were unaccustomed to addressing so many at once. The townspeople were nearly anonymous in their sunglasses and hooded robes made of sheets and towels belted at the waist, worn as protection against the deadly sun. Amid the pastels, stripes, and floral patterns, Esther’s red hoodie and Caleb’s black sweatshirt stuck out. Bouncing Kai on her hip, she met his eyes and gave a brief nod.

  “I know it don’t feel good to hear it,” Caleb began, and most of the room fell silent. “But there ain’t nothing here for us now. We’re at each other’s throats, fighting over what little’s left. Stealing from each other.”

  He had noticed the thief Silas against the far wall with his friends, who were as young and scrawny as he was. But the boy refused to make eye contact and so Caleb continued. “One of us has maps that could help us get somewhere. A place with more food.” Joseph, already in obvious discomfort near the front door, squirmed at this indirect mention. “We can build wagons and pool all our supplies. It’ll be safer if we travel together.”

  Esther and Caleb had disagreed about this. She wanted it to be just the four of them—her, Caleb, Kai, and Joseph.

  “There’s no one else in town I trust,” she had told him. “If you knew them the way I did, you wouldn’t, either.”

  In fact, Caleb understood the small-mindedness of the townspeople all too well. Still, he had argued back, it was better to travel with a large group and not only because it was safer. He knew that on the open road, loneliness and exposure were as dangerous as floods and fire. They would eventually turn you into an animal.

  Even after he had persuaded her, Caleb suspected that the real challenge would be getting the town on their side. And now, he feared he was right.

  There was a brief pause as the meaning of his words sank in. Then the room erupted in noise.

  Everyone was talking at once, and the response was clearly negative. Caleb and Esther were facing the worst-case scenario: not just skepticism, but open scorn.

  One girl, thirteen or so, with eyes deeply ringed, stood up, her thin frame swallowed up by the billowing folds of her robes. In halting speech, she said what seemed to be on everyone’s mind.

  “You’re wrong,” she said. “Sure, they ain’t much to eat. But we can always get more. We can find more houses and Glean. They ain’t no reason to leave.”

  Esther’s heart sank as the room broke into cheers and calls. She knew that if people still wanted to Glean empty houses in a depleted town, they were holding on to a past that was over. And that meant there was only one reason why everyone wanted to stay: fear.

  “Besides,” the girl added, “only water we got now is from the spring. You think of that?”

  It was, Esther knew, a good point. Nearly all water in their poisoned world—rivers, rain, the dew that covered the yellowed grass each morning—was deadly; even a few drops splashed by accident into one’s mouth, eyes, or an open wound could kill a healthy teenager in days. For years, the people of Prin had relied on the diminishing stores of bottled water from the Source. Then, two mon
ths ago, the discovery of an underground spring pumping clean, safe water came like a miracle, one that had saved their lives.

  “We can bring all we need,” Caleb replied. “And there’s got to be other sources of safe water somewhere. We just got to find one, that’s all.”

  His reply was met by a ripple of discontent and, worse, dismissal. From the corner of his eye, Caleb saw Silas and his comrades flee through the door, unnoticed. Sneaking out behind them was Joseph. Two boys, perhaps seven years old, now scrambled onto his chair and began punching each other as others watched them, laughing and shouting.

  Esther decided to take a chance. “I know,” she said, speaking over them all, “that you’re scared. We all are.”

  For a second, there was no reaction. Then her words sank in, and all chatter dried up. Esther had succeeded in getting their attention, but not in the way she intended.

  “Scared!” several exclaimed.

  “You calling us cowards?” shouted one boy. In an instant, the mood of the crowd had turned ugly. People only quieted down when a pinch-faced girl rose to her feet. Close to eighteen, Rhea was one of the oldest people in town and well aware of the power that gave her. She was also someone who had routinely mocked Esther’s sister, Sarah, and been instrumental in Esther’s having once been Shunned from Prin.

  “We all know what this is really about.” The quiet viciousness of her words was at odds with her sweet voice. “This is just you trying to clean up the mess you made. The mess you both made.”

  Caleb didn’t reply but saw that Esther, her face flushed with emotion, had turned to take in the speaker. Esther, he knew, had no love for the older girl.

  “Go on,” Caleb said to Rhea.

  “Everything was fine under Levi. We got plenty to eat. We had a good way of working for it, by Gleaning, Harvesting, Excavating. If we did our part, we got what we were promised. Everything worked just fine.”

  By now, everyone in the room, including Rhea’s partner, Sokol, was listening to her words with intent expressions, nodding in agreement.