Wanderers

by Susan Kim

  “Each scar tells a story,” Skar was saying. “But they are not you. They are only images drawn on your surface.”

  Michal was jarred out of her thoughts. “That’s crazy,” she said under her breath. But Skar continued.

  “That is why we variants embrace them. Because scars mark the important events of our lives.”

  With her finger, Skar traced the circle carved on her upper arm. “You see? This was the event of my tenth birthday. The day I chose to be a girl.”

  Michal said nothing but could not keep from listening. She indicated a series of scrolls that encircled Skar’s ankle. “So what’s that for?”

  “It was the day I first walked.”

  “And this?” It was a rabbit, above her right elbow.

  “The occasion I killed my first animal.”

  Michal nodded, but her mood once again darkened.

  “Not all scars are positive,” Skar added. “Sometimes, others write them on us without our consent.”

  Michal’s jaw tightened. “What would you know about that?”

  Without a word, Skar bent forward, lifting her tunic so Michal could see her naked back. When she did, the girl gave an involuntary gasp. After a moment, Skar pulled her garment down again and sat up.

  “I thought—” Michal tried to speak, then stopped. She swallowed hard. “Who did that to you?”

  “My partner.”

  “And did you ever—”

  “No,” said Skar. “I have never shown it to anyone before. Not even Esther. Only you.”

  “It’s humiliating. Isn’t it?” Michal looked away and when she spoke, it was in a whisper. “When I see my face, I feel so ashamed.” But Skar was shaking her head.

  “It is not your shame,” she said, her voice hard. “It is the shame of the ones who did it to us.”

  “But my face.” Michal’s hands fluttered across her features. “He . . . he shouldn’t have done that to my face.”

  Skar’s expression was still serious, but her tone softened.

  “Maybe the worst injuries are not the ones we can see,” she said. “If they heal, they are nothing. Just another story written on the skin. But I think the worst damage is in here.” She pointed to her chest. “I was frightened this would kill me. But it did not, and with luck I will become stronger. Perhaps.” She bit her lip. “I only hope Esther can survive what she has gone through.”

  In the distance, the faint wail of a baby made both girls look up.

  “Kai,” said Michal. “Asha said she’d watch him, but she don’t know anything about babies.”

  But Skar was still thinking about Esther. “Perhaps we can help speed the process,” she said.

  That night, Eli was the first to notice her.

  He and the others had gathered around a small fire, when he saw something stir in the woods. Moments later, Esther appeared, looking pale and drawn, her eyes swollen. A watchful Joseph followed close behind.

  Whispers traveled around the fire, but Skar shook her head. Without a word, she made room next to her and Esther sat down.

  For a while, there was no sound except for the popping of the fire. At last, Eli caught Skar’s glance and raised an eyebrow. It was a question. She frowned, then gave a slight shrug in acquiescence.

  “Esther,” Eli said. “I don’t know how much of this you know. But most everyone’s gone. Rafe, he went away with—” Eli stopped himself in midsentence, then finished clumsily. “Anyhow, he’s gone. And the others decided to head back to Prin. Whatever was left, they took with them. It’s just us, now.”

  Esther didn’t look at him and he was struck by how still she was. It seemed like she wasn’t even breathing and her eyes, unblinking and dull, were like lumps of charred wood in her white face.

  It’s like she died, too, thought Eli.

  “We aim to keep going to Mundreel,” he continued after a moment. “Ain’t no choice . . . if we stay, we all gonna die soon enough. We should of set off this morning, only—” Eli stopped again, then continued in a gentler voice. “Anyways, that’s no matter. We aim to set off at sunup. And we need to know if you are with us or not.”

  A violent shudder passed through Esther. It was the only sign of life she had shown. Eli thought she was about to speak, but after a moment, her face grew blank once again.

  Eli was so focused on Esther, he only now noticed that Skar had slipped away from the circle. She came back, carrying something in her arms.

  It was Kai, who stirred in his blanket. Eli wondered why Skar had awakened the child and brought him to such a meeting. Puzzled, he watched as the variant girl walked to the other side of the circle, where Asha sat.

  “Here,” Skar said in a clear voice. “He wants his mama.” Then she pulled the blanket away and handed the child to Asha. The girl, startled yet delighted, took him in her eager arms.

  A chunk of wood broke off from a burning log, illuminating Kai. Shocked by being awoken and having his warm coverlet removed, the boy flailed his arms and legs as Asha struggled to comfort him. She tried to rock him the way she had seen Esther do. But her touch was clumsy and Kai began to wail and then shriek, his face turning red and rosy, the round cheeks streaked with tears.

  Eli was not the only one who was confused. “What are you playing at?” Rhea’s voice was shrill with indignation. “That ain’t his mother.” Annoyed as well, Eli was about to tell Skar to take the boy away, when someone else spoke.

  “Give him to me.”

  It was Esther. She stood, swaying yet alert, and addressed Asha. “He’s mine.”

  Now Asha stood as well, her lower lip jutting out as she held the infant away. It was clear she didn’t want to give him up; petulant tears filled her eyes as she glanced in appeal to Eli. Confused, he nodded toward Esther.

  “Give him to her,” was all he said.

  With obvious reluctance, Asha handed the boy over. Esther had already retrieved the blanket from Skar and was fashioning it into a sling. From where he sat, Eli could see Kai’s face, and for a moment he was struck by the baby’s resemblance to his late father.

  In a flash, Eli understood.

  Esther was already cradling the child and murmuring his name. Struck by Skar’s cleverness, Eli glanced at her to express his thanks, but the variant girl had already risen to her feet.

  “I’ll go check on the bicycles,” was all she said. Then she disappeared into the night.

  Eight

  BY MIDMORNING OF THE FOLLOWING DAY, THE DEPLETED GROUP OF NINE was trying to make up for lost time.

  Yet progress was slow, much slower than it had been when they had traveled as a larger group. There were now only four bicycles between them. They had managed to cobble together two wagons from various parts, with Joseph, his cat, and Kai riding in one. All of the vehicles were in poor shape and the caravan was forced to stop again and again for repairs.

  Eli insisted on leading, so he rode at the front. Before they set out that morning, he had conferred with Joseph in private about which direction they should take.

  “I’m afraid I don’t know,” the older boy had said after a long pause.

  “What do you mean?” Eli was confused.

  “The bad ones,” Joseph started, then stopped. “They took everything. My books, my maps. I don’t even know where we are.”

  Eli had nodded, although his mind was whirling. If Joseph had no idea where to go, who would?

  “Well,” he managed to say, “can you at least point us in the right direction?”

  Joseph considered the question for some time. Then he reached down and drew an X in the dirt at their feet.

  “Look,” he said, “this is us. The sun rises in the east and sets in the west. North is this way. That’s where we have to head.” He drew a line and glanced at Eli, apologetic. “I’m afraid that’s all I know.”

  Eli found it impossible to follow the major highway for more than a few miles. Frequent obstructions made it impassable at times, forcing them to take exits that led to other ro
ads, roads that sometimes led in wholly new directions. After a few hours, Eli wasn’t sure that they hadn’t gone in a complete circle.

  There were other problems he didn’t know how to solve, either.

  No one had had anything to eat or drink in nearly two days. Skar’s improvised throwing stick was a poor substitute for her finely wrought bow made of fiberglass and wood; and she despaired of ever mastering it to the point where she could catch any game. By now, everyone held clean pebbles in their mouths, sucking them to create the illusion of moisture. But thirst was beginning to affect them all.

  The youngest and smallest—Asha, Silas—fell farther and farther behind. Kai had been crying incessantly from within his wagon; even more frightening was when at last he grew silent.

  Eli did not share his greatest fear: that Lewt and his gang might be lying in wait for them. He couldn’t help scanning the horizon and every bend in the road with dread.

  He felt a massive sense of relief when a lone sign finally appeared on the horizon, resting high on a metal pole above the trees: EXXON. It would be a place to stop, he figured, and was perhaps even an indication that a town lay nearby.

  “Over there,” Eli called, raising a hand.

  From the rear of the caravan, Esther saw the others take the exit and she followed. By the time they pulled into the gas station, she was so faint she had to steady herself against the handlebars and her legs trembled with exhaustion. She turned to check on Kai, so quiet in the wagon behind her. Despite the suffocating heat, his skin was clammy and cold; and Esther felt a stab of fear deep in her gut.

  All day, she had tried to hold her tongue, even when Eli made decisions that she sensed were rash. She knew he was trying his best and the last thing she wanted was to undermine his authority; their morale, as poor as it was, was literally the only thing they had left. Yet as he floundered from one bad decision to another, she sensed they were on the verge of losing their most vulnerable members.

  Without water, Kai would surely die. And one by one, they would all succumb as well.

  By now, the others had dismounted and moved into the shattered remains of the gas station. There she assumed they would Glean the convenience store and attached garage, searching for water and food. Silas and Rhea were already carrying out implements they had found—a coil of rope, various tools, a good-size knife, and other items—and loading them into the wagon. But without something to drink, Esther realized, it was all pointless.

  “Why don’t you rest?” Off her bicycle, Skar crouched low, easing her legs and back.

  “No,” Esther said, “I’m going to see if there’s anything nearby.” She tapped on the wagon, and Joseph emerged, drawn and pale. A listless Kai lay in his arms. “Keep an eye on him until I get back.”

  Before Skar could say anything more, Esther had already remounted and taken off.

  She refused to think about Caleb.

  His murder had killed something inside her; and she had sealed all thoughts of him deep within, a howling void of loss and fury she swore she would never again confront. Instead, she chose to focus on survival: that of her son and of her friends. They were all she had left.

  The empty cart rattled behind her on the overgrown country highway that curved and bent in the dimming light. Then she saw something promising: a shack that hadn’t been destroyed, set back from the street.

  Sure enough, Esther found what she had been looking for: a street in which the storefronts and small buildings appeared occupied. As Esther slowed, she even saw a few bicycles parked in various front yards.

  She soon came to a small store, one that had faded words painted on a cracked window: POLANSKI’S DELI. Outside, a girl with a tangle of dark, curly hair, perhaps six or seven, sat on the lowest step. She had been drinking soda from a large plastic bottle but stopped to stare. A stranger on the bicycle was in front of her, her lips cracked and her expression desperate. But the child was already scrambling up the stairs, terrified.

  “Please.” Esther’s throat was so dry, the word was little more than a croak. “I just need—”

  An older girl burst from the building, brandishing what looked like a table leg. She had the same dark-brown cloud of hair; she and the little one were clearly sisters. As she advanced, with fear and defiance in her eyes, her sibling ran behind her and clung to her robes.

  When she saw it was only a thin girl, exhausted and covered with dust, the older one hesitated. The three stood like that, in a silent tableau. Then at last she spoke.

  “We was attacked,” she said, and didn’t elaborate.

  Had it been Lewt and his boys? Esther wondered but said nothing.

  “So what you want?” said the older sister. Although she had lowered her weapon, she still gripped it by her side and her expression was suspicious.

  “Something to eat or to drink,” Esther said, “anything you could spare. You see, we—”

  “We ain’t got nothing,” the older girl snapped.

  Esther turned to go, then realized she could not. “Please,” she said. “It’s for a baby. My little boy.”

  The older one said nothing, but the little girl emerged from behind her sister’s robes. Her eyes were wide. “You got a baby?”

  Esther nodded.

  The sisters shared a glance, and the older one gave a slight shrug. At that, the young one stepped forward and handed Esther her bottle. The soda was warm, flat, and tasted like plastic; yet it was delicious. Forcing herself not to take too much, Esther swallowed a few long sips. Then with difficulty, she handed the bottle back.

  “Is there,” Esther said, “nothing else you could spare? We are nine of us.”

  Again, the sisters glanced at each other and the older one nodded. The little one disappeared into the store. Moments later, she returned, barely able to support two large soda bottles and several packets of food, which she carried pressed to her chin: dried peas, cough drops, coffee. Esther held each item for a moment as if to savor it before placing it in the wagon. Then she looked up at the girls.

  “Saying thanks isn’t enough,” she said. “But thanks.”

  The younger one shrugged it off. “Where you from?”

  “A place called Prin. We had to leave on account of the earthquake.” The siblings nodded in obvious sympathy and Esther felt a flicker of hope. “How are you folks set around here? You got enough for more to stay?”

  The older one shook her head. “Me and her, we were just getting by before. Now, everyone around here plans on moving on. Soon.”

  “Where you headed?” asked the younger one.

  “Mundreel. Ever heard of it?”

  The little girl shook her head, but the older one spoke up. “Some people from around here went there once, I think. It was a while ago.”

  “You ever get word from them?”

  The girl shrugged. “They musta liked it. Because they never come back.”

  “Got any idea which way they went?”

  The older girl shook her head. “Sorry.”

  Esther knew she had to get back to Kai and the others; it was several miles on a hilly road. “Well,” she said. “I better go.”

  As she remounted her bicycle, the bigger girl spoke up. “I reckon you could ask Aras.”

  “Who?”

  “Aras. He used to be a guide. Or so he say.”

  Esther debated whether to stay or go; she didn’t think another half hour’s wait would do any harm. And the idea of a guide sounded promising.

  “Where can I find him?” she said.

  Esther stood in front of a large, strange rectangle of a building, windowless and with only one floor. A sign spanned an area above the large entrance, with a few random letters embedded there that made no sense. There was a rounded, glassed-in cage adjacent to the front door and next to it was a torn poster with the unpronounceable word MATINEE.

  Esther entered the building. The daylight that spilled in the doorway revealed a medium-size room dominated by a steel-topped counter, with two curtain
ed doors on the far wall leading to greater darkness. Broken glass scattered across a stained carpet crunched underfoot as she picked her way across.

  “Hello?” There was no answer.

  But she did notice the smell. It was an acrid aroma, sweet and heavy, that mixed smoke with vegetation; it made her recoil. Still, she was able to follow the scent as it deepened across the room, through one of the doors, past a thick curtain made of a plush and dusty fabric.

  “Hello?”

  Esther could tell from the sound that she had moved into a vast space with a high ceiling. She was forced to walk with her hands held in front of her, feeling her way in the dark. As she moved forward, she bumped into what turned out to be a row of attached folding seats, upholstered, with heavy metal backs. There were many such rows, broken and torn, yet arranged in an even pattern that filled the room. As her eyes adjusted, she saw that a veritable sea of trash swamped the place. Soon she could make out a far wall, which gleamed faintly silver; it appeared to be made of some shiny material that was torn and stained.

  The smell was coming from the front row.

  Faintly lit by the glow of the wall, a shadowy figure sat, almost lay, its long legs propped up on the edge of the small stage that ran across the front of the room. There was a bright orange dot in the darkness. It moved slightly, and Esther realized it was the lit tip of an object the person held to its lips, sucking in audibly before expelling smoke with the awful smell.

  “Excuse me?” Esther called.

  The response wasn’t human.

  Great bursts of barking broke out. Some kind of wild animal erupted from the darkness. It came bounding up the aisle toward her; Esther could hear the rapid scrabbling of its nails on the floor and the click of its teeth, could practically feel its hot breath on her face. There was nowhere to run, and in desperation, she threw her arms up to protect herself as best she could.

  And then it stopped.

  With a sudden twang and the clanking of metal chain, the dog gave a sharp yip as it was yanked backward, having reached the end of its tether.