by Susan Kim
A rainstorm was approaching. And the nine of them were outside and exposed, without tarps or protection of any kind.
Above, Aras was calling, but his words were almost impossible to hear.
“No time! I’m coming down with Pilot!”
As he spoke, there was a distant boom of thunder. The others hesitated and Esther could sense their mixed feelings. Part of them wanted to save themselves and leave the guide to his fate. Yet they couldn’t quite abandon him.
Esther glanced at Skar, who nodded.
Skar led the others toward a section of the destroyed bridge that was still standing. It wasn’t much, but it had a roof of sorts and was surrounded by piles of broken concrete that would afford some protection from the driving rain.
Then Esther turned her attention to the guide.
The crate was swaying crazily in the wind. From it, Esther could hear the dog barking. Aras had straddled the wooden box and was holding tight to the rope, letting it out as quickly as he could. His long, matted locks were lashed by the wind. Even from where she stood, she could see the muscles in his neck and shoulders strain from the effort.
Esther did all she could to stabilize them with the guideline. It was almost impossible to do; buffeted by the lashing wind, the heavy wooden box swung and spun, and the force of it nearly yanked her off her feet. Yet if she let go, it would collide with the cliff face, where it would shatter in midair.
Esther glanced over her shoulder, and when she did, her heart contracted in panic. Dark storm clouds had massed in the sky, extending toward the horizon. Heavy rain was already visible in the distance.
Above the roar of the approaching storm, Esther could hear Aras’s voice.
“I’m all right! Go to the others!”
But Esther ignored him and continued to steer the crate, using the guideline. She refused to look behind her; instead, she shut her eyes to better focus on what she had to do.
Then someone grabbed her by the shoulder. It was Aras, holding his dog by its collar.
“Let’s go!” he screamed at her over the wind.
Together, they bent low and ran for the shelter. Esther went first, pulling Aras by the hand; he stumbled over the broken ground but still managed to keep up. Ahead of them, Esther could see the group watching from deep inside the overhang.
As Esther and Aras fell into the shelter, the dog at their heels, the sky seemed to crack open behind them. With a roar of thunder that echoed across the valley, lightning blazed across the blackened sky, illuminating the landscape as brightly as a comet. Then torrential rain began to fall.
Hands were already dragging them deeper into the protective cave. There, Michal was ready with a dry sweatshirt while Skar checked the two for any traces of rain. But both Esther and Aras had escaped unscathed.
In the recesses of the makeshift shelter, a warm glow revealed the others who had gathered around a small fire. Eli was already tending a pan, filled with dirty water. Once it boiled, he scooped up a mugful, which he strained through a folded-up towel. He passed the drink up front to her.
“Here,” he said. “You need this.”
Esther smiled her thanks, but after a moment, gave the cup first to Aras, pressing it against his fingers. He hesitated, then accepted it. That was when she realized that not only was he trembling from exertion, his hands and arms were torn and bloodied from handling the rope.
Aras blew on the steaming liquid before taking a long sip.
“Thanks,” he said, “for sticking around.”
He was already fumbling a fresh smoking paper from his pocket. He lit it, then held it out.
“You want some?” It was the first time Esther had ever seen him offer anything to anyone.
“No,” she replied.
He hesitated. Then abruptly, he flicked the object outside. It hit the ground, throwing sparks before the rain extinguished it with a sizzling sound.
“Thank you,” said Esther in a soft voice.
The torrent continued for several hours. Afterward, even after the sun emerged, everyone stayed in the shelter, waiting for the water to either seep into the earth or disappear into the warming air. Most of the party took advantage of the break by curling on the ground and sleeping.
A few remained awake.
Skar used the time to explore the length of the overhang, taking with her the fine new bow and arrows Esther had given her from Aras. When she returned after an hour, she carried a dead crow. It wasn’t much and she knew its flesh would be stringy and acrid; still, fresh meat would be a welcome surprise and she set to work plucking and cleaning it.
Although Esther was exhausted, she also chose to stay awake, checking the bicycles and wagons while keeping an eye on the sky. The scavenging birds she had seen circling earlier had returned after the storm. Clearly, a large animal had perished out there, perhaps a wild pig or even a deer. She calculated how long it would be until it was safe to venture outdoors. If they were lucky, they might be able to steal whatever dead thing was on the riverbed and take it for themselves.
Skar had the same thought.
“I’ll go with you,” she whispered. The two girls set off.
The ground was baked to a cracked white clay and so dry, most of the rainwater had run off altogether or collected in shallow pools. Even so, the girls took care heading across the desolate landscape, avoiding the deep cracks in the earth that still glistened with moisture.
Ahead of them, they could see that the seething mass of birds had piled atop their food, fighting and squawking. The sound of their cries echoed across the valley. As they ate, the sun shone on their shifting black feathers, creating an oily sheen. Smaller scavengers also hopped along the outskirts, squabbling over bits of meat that fell to the side.
When they were close enough, Esther and Skar both began to shout and clap their hands. Startled, the birds rose in the air as one, a feathered mob with a single mind. Then as the girls ran forward, their cloud broke apart and each bird took off alone, screaming its fury.
Smiling, Esther got to the dead thing first, already reaching for her knife. But when she saw what it was, she gave a cry.
It was a human body.
Still clothed in tattered robes, jeans, and sneakers, it lay facedown, one arm extended in front of it as if in appeal.
When Skar joined her a moment later, Esther had one hand pressed to her mouth and her face was white. For while the birds had done terrible damage to the body, the worst wound had clearly been inflicted by another person. The back of the person’s head had been blown away.
Esther hesitated, then turned to Skar, who nodded. Her expression was grim.
Esther reached with a foot and taking great care, prodded the shoulder, which was sodden with rainwater. In one quick movement, she turned the corpse over, so that its face was revealed.
It was a boy. And although time and animals, not to mention exposure to the sun and rain, had done their cruel work on what used to be its face, there was no mistaking who it was.
Rafe.
Attached to the front of his robe was a tattered piece of paper, damp around the edges. It was a frayed remnant of map, with clumsy, block letters scrawled across it that were just legible. Esther needed several moments to decipher it.
He wunt git to Mundreel neethr.
Skar and Esther had to improvise a burial. The ground was too hard to dig and they had no tools; the two girls ended up collecting rocks to cover him with, so more animals couldn’t get to him. As she worked, Esther’s heart was cold as she thought of all that Rafe had done and brought upon her.
Still, he had been human, like her.
“Let’s keep this between ourselves,” Esther said, as they headed back.
Skar nodded. Neither girl spoke what was on her mind: Lewt and the others had killed him. But where were they? Why had they left the message? Even now, were they lying in wait for them?
“What will we do if they . . .” Skar began, then trailed off.
At first, Esther didn’t answer
. Then she said the only thing she could think of. “We’ll find out when we get there.”
Eleven
THREE DAYS LATER, JOSEPH POKED HIS HEAD FROM HIS WAGON AND squinted at a road sign.
“Look.”
From her bicycle in front of him, Esther tried to read the sign, but the letters swam in front of her eyes in a senseless jumble.
“I think it’s another language.” Her friend sounded excited, although Esther didn’t know what his words meant. Seeing her confusion, he added, “I think we’re almost there.”
She could only hope so.
While the caravan had managed to rejoin the major highway and get back on track, a trance seemed to have settled over the group.
It wasn’t due to hunger. The pointed nuts with the leathery caps were plentiful; and after they were boiled until the water ran clear and then ground into a thick paste, they were even good to eat. Skar, too, was able to catch an occasional rabbit or squirrel to add to the pot, sharpening and reusing her remaining arrows as best she could. And while the drinking water they boiled was often cloudy and musty, there was enough of it as well.
Yet the travelers faced a new crisis: Everyone was dazed by exposure.
After so many days on the road, the incessant glare of the sun and the air itself threatened to erase any vestige of civilization they had once known. As Caleb predicted, they had begun to feel like animals.
Esther realized how badly she missed sleeping in a familiar bed, in a home that was hers. Even a solid roof and sturdy walls would mean so much to all of them; she hoped that the next building they reached would be intact, if only for the night.
They took the next exit and followed the smaller road another mile.
There they saw it.
A strange-looking rectangular structure stood by itself on the edge of an asphalt lot, a dusty pickup truck still parked in front. Looking like one of the ancient train cars that sat on rusted tracks leading outside of Prin, the little edifice, one-roomed and almost too small to be called a building, had windows on all sides, as well as two short steps leading up to a door in the side. Though most of the paint had long since peeled away, a bit of green remained.
When she poked her head in, Esther realized it was a restaurant, though different from others she had Gleaned. There was a long, dusty counter that ran down the length of the room, with round-topped stools in front. No more than an arm’s reach away was a row of booths, each made of two cracked-leather couches facing a narrow table. The black and white tiles on the floor were mostly intact; the windows were unbroken and even the ceiling had no holes that she could see. All in all, it was a good place to spend the night, to rest and regroup, if only for a while.
Skar and Michal decided to remain outside and look for game while there was still light. The others filed in, grateful for the shelter. Eli was already gathering twigs and rubbish to start a fire in their one remaining firebowl, as Silas headed to a booth in the back. He curled up and promptly went to sleep. Asha and Joseph did a quick Glean behind the counter, but found only a few inedibles: oversize bottles of what smelled like cleaning liquid, large plastic bags full of an unfamiliar powder, a broom. A small kitchen behind swinging doors seemed more promising, and they disappeared within to continue their search.
In her own booth, Esther tried to soothe a restless Kai. First, she held him in her lap, bouncing him up and down. Then she took his soft hands and clapped them together. But the boy jerked in her arms, fussing and struggling, so at last she set him on the ground.
Kai had been crawling for months, and in the past few weeks had learned to pull himself to a standing position. Now, he jerked free of Esther’s guiding hands. He tottered forward, concentrating hard, and took four stumbling steps before sitting down hard.
When she saw Kai’s astonished expression, Esther burst out laughing.
“You did it!” She crouched by his side and hugged him tight. It seemed like a miracle.
But Kai was already trying to wriggle away. He wanted to try again; but it had been a long day and he was clearly tired, yawning even as he struggled to be set down. Esther knew that a baby could grow too tired even to fall asleep. She rummaged in her bag for something to distract and calm him with, some toy or piece of clothing.
Her hand struck something hard.
It was the book that Esther had taken as a reminder of her sister: The Wonderful Wizard of Oz. Over the past few weeks, Joseph had gotten into the habit of reading from it each night to help the boy fall asleep. Esther had listened, as well. Although at first she had to stop and ask Joseph many questions, she soon became absorbed by the strange tale of the girl named Dorothy and her quest to find the elusive Wizard. A piece of paper marked where Joseph had last read; they were almost at the end.
Now Kai grabbed at the book, familiar with the ritual and impatient for it to start. With a pang, Esther wished she could read well enough to complete the story. She was about to look for something else when she sensed a person standing opposite her.
It was Joseph, apparently no use in the kitchen. “Shall I finish it?” he asked.
Relieved, Esther smiled and slid over on the bench, making room. “Sure.”
Joseph settled next to her, folding up his long legs in the restricted space as he found the book marker. And then he began to read.
The girl named Dorothy and her three friends, on their way to see Glinda, were being menaced by frightening creatures with no arms and terrible, flat heads that they used to attack. Esther didn’t notice that Kai grew heavy and still in her arms; she was wholly engrossed by the strange and exciting tale. Before she knew it, he was on the final page.
“‘From the Land of Oz,’ said Dorothy gravely. ‘And here is Toto, too. And oh, Aunt Em! I’m so glad to be at home again!’”
Joseph closed the book. In the sudden silence, he tiptoed away and Esther became aware of the sleeping child in her lap. As she lifted him onto the table, she found herself moved by the ending of the tale. She could not explain why. Then she sensed something behind her and heard the familiar jingle of a dog’s collar.
Aras was sitting in the booth at her back, Pilot resting his head on the boy’s feet.
“Were you listening?” she asked. After a moment, he nodded.
“Is it true, that story?”
At first, Esther thought he was joking. Sarah had often read to her when she was little, fanciful stories of talking animals, trolls, goblins, and fairies. But Aras seemed sincere. “I think,” she offered, “that it was made-up.”
“What you mean? Ain’t it in a book?”
“Not everything in books is true.”
Aras seemed to bristle. “Well, if it ain’t true, then what’s the point?”
Esther thought this over. Then she spoke, choosing her words with care.
“I think it means . . . that maybe you shouldn’t trust in a wizard who doesn’t even have any power. ’Cause the power’s with you, all along. And that home is people. The ones you love.”
Aras stayed still, looking in the direction of Esther’s voice, petting Pilot’s head. Then Esther heard the creak of leather and the jangle of Pilot’s chain as the boy stood up and walked away.
Esther sat alone, staring at the baby. Then she curled into the booth like a child herself. She meant to rest her eyes for only a few moments. Yet soon she was deeply asleep.
In her dreams was a highway paved with golden bricks, one that led to a magical city ruled by a benevolent leader.
Another person in the restaurant was wide awake.
Asha sat alone on a soft, cracked seat that dripped stuffing. Unlike Aras, she had paid no attention to the strange story. Instead, she played with the tattered remains of blinds that covered the window and stared openly at Esther and Kai.
She had watched as the baby nestled in Esther’s arms, as his hands reached up and explored her mouth or got lost in her hair. Although Esther kept her attention on her strange friend, Joseph, she never stopped soothing the child,
stroking his cheek, bouncing him gently. Without even knowing she was doing it, Asha copied her exact movements in the air.
Soon, Kai was nearly asleep and Esther lowered him into her lap. Asha did the same thing. She held her thin arms by the elbows in her lap, creating a cradle. Then she began to rock it.
“Shh,” she whispered, “shh,” for her baby was crying.
Across the room, Eli had watched Asha watching Esther. Now he came over and sat across from her.
“What’s your baby’s name?” he whispered.
Asha looked up, surprised she had been seen. Yet she wasn’t embarrassed.
“Asha,” she said, after a moment’s hesitation. Then she frowned. “No, that’s not right. That’s my name.” She glanced around, and her eye fell on a dusty object stuck to the wall above the table. It had a broken glass panel and a push-button alphabet in the middle.
“What’s that say?” She pointed at its name.
Eli squinted at the squiggly script, sounding out the letters under his breath. “Crosley,” he said at last.
“Crosley,” she repeated. “That’s my baby’s name.” Then she resumed her rocking.
Eli smiled. He had noticed Asha’s interest in Esther before. But he had not understood how far it went, until now.
Asha imitated Esther not simply because she wanted to be the other girl. She did it because she wanted to be older—as old, in fact, as she really was.
And what could be more grown-up than having a child?
“Shh, Crosley,” Asha said to her baby. “Shh.”
Asha seemed natural as a mother. Yet no matter how much she yearned to have a real child of her own, whether she could handle it was another question.
She could not do it alone.
Eli didn’t know what his future held. His life, already short, was ever more precarious. But he was only fifteen; perhaps he would live another three or four years. For as much as he disliked Aras, Eli had to admit the guide was far more competent than he ever would have imagined.
Maybe he could get them to Mundreel, after all.
And yet, Eli couldn’t help glancing at Esther. In the flickering light cast by the firebowl, her face glowed, and for the thousandth time, his heart ached. For Eli had always loved her, ever since childhood. He had protected and helped her when the town turned against her; he had even asked her to be his partner. But she had turned him down, choosing Caleb instead. And now that Caleb was dead, she seemed to have space in her heart only for his child.
