Wanderers

by Susan Kim

  They were called Twinkies. True, the yellow cakes were stiff as dried mud and filled with white stuff that was just as unyielding; but they were sweet and relatively edible. At least, Esther thought, they wouldn’t kill you. She closed the lid and placed the box with care in her backpack.

  “And look what I found,” Caleb said. Fumbling in his pack, he revealed two small jars. They were dusty and covered with grit; but when he brushed them off, she saw that the glass and lids were intact and that they were filled with amber liquid. GOLDEN BLOSSOM, the label read.

  When he wrenched one lid open, it gave a satisfying pop. He stuck one finger in and pulled it out.

  “Here,” he said.

  Esther parted her lips and tasted. The honey was cool and sweet, tickling her throat in a delicious way as she swallowed; she ran her tongue over his finger even after it was gone. When she glanced up at Caleb, he was smiling. His face was streaked with dirt, and he wiped a cobweb from his brow.

  “I also found some sugar and a bag of beans,” he said, “so I think we’ll be okay for a few days.”

  “Even with the one extra person?”

  Esther bit her lip. She hadn’t meant to say anything, but she couldn’t help it; the question had just popped out. In the growing darkness, she could hear Caleb exhale.

  “You want to talk about it?”

  “I do.”

  Esther knew it hurt Caleb to think about his late brother. Yet she was filled with not only an intense curiosity about the new girl but also something she had never experienced before: jealousy. She needed to know about this stranger, the one with the beautiful golden hair; and so she stood in the dim light of the store, waiting. And after a few moments, Caleb spoke.

  “Michal helped me,” he said. “She saved my life when Levi tried to have me killed. Hid me in her room and took care of me.”

  Esther thought of the scars she knew so well: the one on his chest and the matching one between his shoulders, where the arrow had pierced him through. “Then she helped me find Kai.” Caleb took a deep breath. “I figure Levi found out what happened. That’s why he did what he done to her. With something that burns. To punish her in a way that would hurt the most.”

  Michal’s melted features flashed in front of Esther’s eyes and she shuddered.

  “I guess I feel responsible.” Caleb rubbed his face with a sleeve. When he spoke again, his voice was so soft, Esther had to lean forward to catch his words. “So it’s the least I can do for all she did.”

  When he had started to speak, Esther had been full of questions about Michal and how pretty she had been. Now that she had heard what actually happened, she was filled with shame, as well as a deep feeling of gratitude toward the stranger. She took Caleb’s hand.

  “If Mundreel is as good as Rafe says it is,” Caleb said, “feeding another won’t be so hard.” He had been gazing at the ground, then glanced up at her with a smile. “Maybe we can even try to give Kai a little brother or sister.”

  Esther’s smile broadened as she squeezed his hand. Then they were in each other’s arms; it was as if they could not hold each other close enough.

  “Come,” she said after a moment. Her face was flushed and her eyes sparkled. “The others will be wondering where we are.”

  They left the STOP & SHOP hand in hand. Caleb helped Esther over a pile of shattered glass, and together they went to their bicycles.

  They were unaware that across the street, someone was watching them from the deepening shade of a tree.

  It was Asha.

  She often liked to spy on Caleb and Esther. The best times were when they were far from the others and did not know that anyone was watching. If Asha was very careful, she caught a rare glimpse of them that nobody else saw, not even their best friends, the old man Joseph and the variant girl, Skar.

  Asha liked to see the two hug and kiss, even if that kind of thing made her face turn red and she would turn away until they were finished. Yet it was moments like this, when they spoke quietly and laughed between them at some private joke, that she liked the best.

  Although Asha had never had a partner, it was something she dreamed about. “When I grow up,” she would often say to herself, unaware that at close to sixteen, she was more than grown up and well past the age of partnering. Still, in her fantasies, she always envisioned herself in a relationship like the one shared by Esther and Caleb.

  Mostly, Asha wanted a baby of her own. She always hoped Esther would let her care for Kai; but Esther seemed to prefer Joseph instead. This made no sense to Asha, since he wasn’t even good at taking care of little ones. Not as good as she was, that she was certain.

  Now she decided that she too would go off and explore the small town they were in. Pulling up her sleeve, she made a show of examining her wristwatch, a purple Swatch with a daisy pattern. It was something she had seen Joseph do many times, winding and adjusting the three watches he wore on his arm. Asha wasn’t sure what it meant, but it made her feel grown-up nevertheless. She decided that like Esther and Caleb, she too might be able to find food somewhere and bring it to the others. If she did, people were sure to look at her with approval. Maybe even Eli—who was always patient with her and would never dream of playing tricks—would say how smart she was, how capable.

  The thought made her glow and giggle, as if he had really said it.

  Asha avoided the first few buildings on the street. They had collapsed against one another, and while they were still standing, barely, she didn’t much like the look of them. Humming to herself, she continued down the street, walking with one foot on the curb and one in the gutter. Behind her, she could tell the townspeople had begun cooking a meager supper; there was already the scent of wood burning and the faraway clatter of metal spoons and firebowls.

  The building she chose lay a distance from the road, at the end of a small, curved driveway. It was a good-size brick structure, with long windows and a strange fixture on its roof, a long, white beam that tapered to a point high overhead. The setting sun revealed a sign in the midst of the overgrown grass; beneath the cracked glass front were crooked white letters spelling out words Asha didn’t understand.

  Inside, Asha found a high-ceilinged room set with orderly rows of wooden benches. By now, it was so dark, it was almost impossible to see. Vaguely, Asha was aware it was probably not a good idea to keep going. Yet she continued to inch toward the front of the room, where a round window was crisscrossed with two white planks, one long and one short, that formed a sort of T. In front of it, a separate stall of benches faced long metal pipes on the wall that gleamed dully in the waning light. Asha put her hands in front of her as if trying to feel her way through the velvety evening air.

  She was not prepared for the stairs that suddenly appeared beneath her feet.

  Screaming and windmilling her arms, Asha pitched forward. As she fell, she grabbed onto a flimsy wooden banister that snapped off in her hand. At the same moment, her left foot broke through a step and kicked free. With a groan of ancient wood, the entire structure collapsed beneath her in an explosion of dust and splinters.

  In pitch-blackness, Asha found herself half sitting on the pile of rubble. Uncertainly, she pulled her foot out from underneath her and attempted to stand. She could feel a hot stickiness on her leg and her ankle felt funny. But standing on tiptoe, she could sense a gaping void where the staircase once stood. Above her head, her waving hands brushed the splintered end of a faraway board. Beyond it, she could imagine the open doorway, which at that moment seemed as far away as the moon.

  Asha didn’t know how long she shouted. After a while, her throat was ragged and still no one came. Finally, she gave up. In the dark, she sat on the lumber and hugged her knees, whimpering to herself as she rocked back and forth. As she wept, she could taste the salt of her tears, and it reminded her of supper, of companionship and comfort.

  Then there was a sound from above.

  It was the murmur of voices, male voices. Hoping against hope, As
ha quickly got to her feet.

  “Eli?” she called in a harsh croak.

  The voices grew louder. Without warning, a lit torch suddenly thrust down toward her, nearly setting her hair on fire. With a squeal, Asha attempted to bat the nasty thing away; the flaming rag tied to the end of a stick reeked of gasoline. When she looked up at its source, the doorway at the top of what had been the stairs, Asha was blinded by the light. Squinting, she held up an arm to block it.

  “Well, look what we got here,” said an unfamiliar voice.

  Another person—a boy? a girl?—snickered.

  Asha, still covering her eyes, waved her other hand. “Help,” she said. “I fell down.”

  The torch withdrew; the room grew dark again, and the girl felt a stab of dismay. Were her rescuers abandoning her? Then something hit her across the face.

  “Hey!” she exclaimed.

  It didn’t hurt. Whatever it was bumped against her face again, and this time, she grabbed it. She was holding a piece of rope that dangled from above. The glowing light found her once more, as if to provide guidance.

  “Grab hold,” said the stranger’s voice. “We put a noose at the end so you can put your foot in it. Ride up that way.”

  Awkwardly, Asha did as she was told. She stuck her right foot, sneaker and all, into the loop at the end. Then she gripped the scratchy rope with both hands. When the cord tightened and began to lift her, she let out a small scream. She twirled in the glow of the torch, her white robes billowing as she ascended to the doorway.

  Hands reached to pull her to solid ground. Giddy with excitement, she stumbled, nearly knocking over her saviors.

  “Thank you,” she said again and again. She could not see their faces, but her relief was immense. “Thank you, thank you.”

  She sensed her rescuers were guiding her through the large room. Outside, a winter moon gave off enough illumination for her to see a little better.

  There were three boys who looked to be her age or a little older.

  One of them was large, hulking and immobile. He held the torch, which he kept close to her face. After a while, she wished he wouldn’t; the heat and glare of it were starting to bother her eyes. As if he had heard her, he lowered it so it moved slowly over the rest of her body. A second boy, shorter and nervous in his movements, began to whisper and giggle to himself.

  Asha decided she didn’t like either of them very much.

  But the one who had spoken to her was different.

  “Care for some candy?”

  He proffered a small package and shook a few pieces into her hand. She couldn’t stuff them into her mouth quickly enough; and as she crunched on the hard sweetness, he chuckled, and the sound was friendly.

  “Ain’t you a long ways from home?”

  “No,” she said. “I mean . . . we’re going to Mundreel. That’s where there’s lots to eat and we can live a long time. That’s our new home.” Swallowing and wiping her mouth, Asha grinned foolishly in the bright light. It was so hard to explain herself sometimes.

  “We?”

  “The people from Prin,” she said, speaking slowly, the way she had been told to do whenever she became too excited. Then she gave up altogether and just gestured down the road. “Over there. Want to come with me?”

  The one with the candy turned to the others and said something Asha couldn’t hear. The smaller one giggled again and whispered in response. The big one said nothing, but Asha didn’t care. She had been given some candy and was heading back to the others. She was happy.

  “That sounds,” said her new friend, “like a real good idea.”

  Five

  ELI WAS THE FIRST TO NOTICE THAT ASHA WAS NOT ALONE.

  He had been looking for her, using a torch to check around the wagons. He was worried that she had wandered off into the evening and become lost in the unfamiliar surroundings. When he spied the girl on the dark street, his relief was so great it took him a few moments to register that she was accompanied by three strangers. Like her, they were clad in dirty robes that gave off a faint glow in the gloom. She was sucking on a piece of candy as she walked, nearly skipped toward the camp.

  “Hey,” he said, approaching.

  “Hi,” Asha said, her face brightening, biting the sweet now with a piercing crack.

  By the light of his flame, he could see the candy had dyed her mouth and tongue bright orange. “Where have you—”

  “I was getting stuff, by myself. But things got real scary, and these guys saved me.”

  She gestured toward the three behind her, and Eli lifted his torch higher to see.

  They were old: perhaps sixteen or seventeen. The one in front seemed to be the leader. He was medium height, solidly built, with a broken nose and a wolfish grin that he flashed at Eli. Another was slight, with dark hair pasted flat across his brow; for no reason, he giggled and whispered to himself as he chewed a tattered thumbnail. The last towered over the others. Hulking and silent, he was bigger than anyone in camp. Although his face was in deep shadow, Eli could see his expression was witless and crude.

  “Who’s this?” the first one asked Asha. His tone was friendly, but his smile grew even more aggressive. He hadn’t taken his eyes off Eli.

  “This is Eli,” Asha said. “Why don’t you say hello to them, Eli? You never know. You might need their help one day.”

  “We’re all out of candy, Eli,” the first one drawled. “Sorry.”

  Eli felt his shoulders tensing up at the joke. “I’ll get by.”

  “Yeah, sure you will. I was just playing with you. I’m Lewt.”

  He extended a hand. After a moment, Eli clasped it. He wasn’t sure, but he thought Lewt held the handshake a moment too long, squeezing before he let go.

  “This here’s Tahlik,” Lewt said, indicating the giggling boy, who chewed his nail harder after the introduction. “And this big fella’s Quell.” The giant blinked in acknowledgment.

  “They ain’t the sharpest tools,” Lewt said, as if in confidence. “But you can’t travel alone in this world, can you, Eli?”

  “Suppose not.”

  “You know not. Look at all the support you got.” He gave an expansive hand wave to the campsite that lay in the distance. By the light of a large bonfire, townspeople could be seen moving about, preparing dinner. “Though you might keep a better eye on pretty here, to see she doesn’t wander away.”

  At this, Asha giggled, and again, Eli felt a wave of tension.

  “We been looking after her fine,” he said. “And her name’s Asha.”

  “Sure you have. And that’s a nice name. I was just playing with you, Eli. You know, between us, maybe I’m a little envious. Maybe I’d like to be part of a big band like you got here, myself. People taking care of each other like you do.”

  “Is that right?”

  “Sure. We get a little lonely on the road, Tahlik and Quell and me, truth be told.”

  Eli just looked at the other boy and said nothing.

  “Girly says you’re all going to a place called Mundreel. Where they give away food, and everybody lives to be thirty or something.” He chuckled at the absurdity, and after a moment, his two friends joined in. “That must be a long ways, ain’t it?”

  Annoyed, Eli shot a glance at Asha. It wasn’t a secret where they were headed; still, he didn’t like that these strangers knew. He shrugged without answering.

  Lewt continued to stare at Eli with a shrewd eye, sizing him up and assessing his place in the scheme of things. Then he glanced away, as if he had come to a conclusion.

  “Who’s the boss around here, Eli?”

  Something told Eli not to speak the full truth. “The boss? No one special.”

  “Every place got a boss. Somebody’s got to tell the others what to do. Right, fellas?”

  Although Eli didn’t think this was funny, Tahlik giggled even louder, nodding his head. Even Quell, the big one, seemed to smile as he stepped closer to Lewt.

  Someone else was laughing a
t this remark. It was Asha, dancing around by herself.

  “That’s funny! Don’t you think that’s funny, Eli? Why don’t you stop being silly and tell him Rafe’s in charge? He’s the boss, you know that.”

  Eli felt his face flush. But Lewt was already ignoring him, looking past him as if he no longer existed.

  “So where’s Rafe?”

  Before Eli could respond, someone did it for him.

  “Right here.” Rafe had wandered up behind them, squinting in the light of a torch. “What’s the problem?”

  Eli began to explain, then decided against it. Let Rafe deal with them, he thought. “Come on,” he said to Asha. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

  “But what about my—”

  Without looking, Lewt cut her off. “We’ll see you later, pretty.”

  As Eli led Asha away, Lewt grasped Rafe’s limp paw and shook it.

  “Nice to know you,” said Rafe. He was hungry for dinner and already losing interest in the newcomers. “Just passing through?”

  “In a way.”

  “Well,” Rafe said as he turned to go. “Good luck to you.”

  Lewt stopped him. “In fact, we wouldn’t mind some food and water to get us on our way. If it ain’t no trouble.”

  Rafe stopped and thought about it. In fact, there was precious little of either food or water and there was none to spare. Still, he liked the respectful way the stranger addressed him; it made him feel magnanimous. “I guess we could donate something.”

  Lewt smiled. “That’s mighty kind,” he said. “In fact, while you’re being so generous, you think we might tag along for a bit? That fella thought it’d be okay.”

  Rafe was puzzled. “Eli said that? That’s strange. He—”

  “Everything all right?”

  It was Caleb who spoke now. He had been watching with Esther from a distance and had already taken stock of the strangers. The big one and the giggling boy who refused to meet your eye seemed harmless enough. But the one in front was now staring at him with an air of confrontation. Then the boy glanced at Esther, his eyes sweeping up and down her body. He seemed to take special note of the tattered partnering cloth around her wrist. Or was it a trick of the light? Caleb couldn’t be sure.