by Susan Kim
It was a girl. And she was already rising to her feet.
“You must be our visitors,” she said. “Welcome to the District. I’m Inna.”
Esther was relieved to find that their hostess spoke in words she could understand. Yet Inna’s voice, musical and low, had a slight hoarseness to it, an odd quality that Esther could not identify.
“I’m so glad you managed to get past the Insurgents outside,” Inna said. “Not everyone does, you know. We haven’t had visitors in months. Over a year, I think.” She had moved around the table as she spoke, and Esther could finally see her in full.
The girl was of medium build, with large dark eyes and black, curly hair held away from her face with a silk cord. She was dressed in strange and luxurious clothing: loose-fitting garments of pink and coral and cream that flowed and shimmered with her every move. Gold chains and sparkling stones dangled at her throat and ears, and a sweet smell arose from her skin, the faint scent of roses and jasmine.
But as she drew closer, Esther recoiled.
Something was wrong with her.
The skin on Inna’s face hung slack off her jawbone and in folds across her throat. There were fleshy swags around her eyes and on either side of her nose and mouth. Horizontal lines were etched into her forehead, and her hair, at first glance as dark as her eyes, had streaks of gray in it.
As Skar and the others also drew back, horrified, Esther’s first confused thought was that Inna had contracted the terrible wasting disease. Yet she seemed to be free of the telltale lesions, the purple, black-edged sores.
Only Joseph had no fear. He stepped forward, squinting in order to see the girl better. Then he had a visible reaction, one of shock, followed by excitement; and when he spoke, his voice quavered.
“You’re old,” he said.
A murmur of amusement passed around the table and Inna smiled even wider. This deepened the lines around her mouth and eyes.
“Yes,” she said. “We all are.”
She pointed at the others. “Ravi and Liat are the youngest. They’re thirty-seven and thirty-nine, respectively.” The two bowed their heads. “I recently turned forty-four. The rest of us are also in our forties and early fifties, including Ramon, my partner, whom you’ve already met.”
She nodded at the boy who had served as their guide. He had unwrapped the gauze cloth from his face and joined the others. To Esther’s shock, she saw that his hair was silver and his face as creased as Inna’s.
What they had heard about Mundreel was true. Even Joseph, the oldest of them all, was only twenty-six; and that, Esther realized with her shaky grasp of arithmetic, was far younger than these people claimed to be.
“But how did you—” Esther began, then stopped.
Inna had stepped in front of Esther and, unexpectedly, took her hands in hers.
Her touch was astonishingly soft and cool, like an infant’s. Esther had a pang when she noticed how dirty and rough her own hands were by comparison, and how torn her fingernails were. Yet Inna didn’t seem to care.
“There’ll be time for explanations later,” Inna said.
Up close, her face didn’t look frightening; and her expression was kind and direct. Yet Esther noticed Inna was looking not at her, but at Kai. When the woman reached across her shoulder and stroked the side of his face with a finger, Esther found herself tensing up.
“A baby,” Inna was saying. “It’s been so long since we’ve had one here.”
Then she smiled.
“But I’m forgetting my manners. First, let us get you settled in.”
Esther sat with her knees pulled close to her chin, shoulder-deep in bathwater that was already black with dirt. She had seen such tubs before—there had been one in her apartment in Prin—yet she had never understood their purpose and always assumed they were meant for storage. It was a strange and even frightening sensation to find herself immersed in warm water like this.
She wasn’t sure if she liked it.
Inna had brought her, Skar, Michal, and Kai to a private room on the top floor, fenced off by an ornamental silk screen. A stack of clean towels and a cracked block of soap were set to the side. Then as the girls watched, two adults came in, carrying large buckets of scalding water. As they poured them into the tub, Inna added several handfuls of what looked like salt, stirring them with her hand until they produced a thick froth of perfumed suds.
Esther and her friends recoiled in terror.
“It’s called a bubble bath,” explained Inna.
Since there was only one tub of hot water, the girls took turns bathing. Michal went first, holding Kai, and then Skar, each girl exclaiming when she lowered herself in. It was only when both girls had finished and stepped out, shivering, that a reluctant Esther took the plunge.
By now, the lukewarm bathwater was so filthy, Esther doubted it would do anything but make her dirtier. And most of the bubbles were gone as well, for which Esther was thankful; they were peculiar and bitter-tasting. When some got into her eye by accident, she was convinced that she had blinded herself. The pain was excruciating.
Despite her skepticism, however, the bubble bath cleaned away much of the deep-seated grime, the dust of the road she had assumed was permanently inked onto her elbows, knees, feet, and neck. Afterward, when Esther stood and toweled herself dry, even she had to admit she had never felt so clean.
Thinking about it that way, however, made her uneasy.
What bothered her most was that their clothes had been taken away. Esther knew that her red hoodie and jeans were torn and filthy and that her sneakers were shredded and full of holes. Still, they had been as much a part of her as hair and skin.
“Hello?”
Wrapped in a towel, Esther gathered enough nerve to poke her head around the screen. One of the adults, a tiny woman named Bao, was seated outside and looked up with a smile.
“Yes?”
Esther felt self-conscious, even shy. “Do you know where our clothes are?”
Bao laughed. “Don’t worry about those. Here are your new ones.”
She picked up a pile of clothing and tried to hand it over. But Esther demurred.
“We can’t,” she said. “Thank you. We can keep our old ones.” Yet Bao, still smiling, shook her head and insisted.
“Nonsense . . . these are so much nicer. Just tell me if they’re the right size or if any of you want a different color or style.”
“But we don’t need—”
“Don’t think of it . . . it’s our pleasure. And besides, we insist.” Esther wasn’t sure, but Bao’s smile seemed steely now. “Anyway, your old things have already been disposed of.”
Esther had no choice but to thank her again and bring the clothes to the others.
Before she could say anything, she was startled by Michal’s response. Excited, the girl pounced on the items with a squeal of delight.
Of course, Esther realized as she watched her sort through the things with swift and expert hands; she used to be Levi’s girl. She knew all about nice things. In an instant, it was as if all of the hardships and cares of the last few months had vanished for Michal. For now at least, she was once again a beautiful young girl, happy to pick out what to wear.
For that, Esther was glad.
Michal found a sundress for herself, bright with swirling designs, and gold sandals with straps that wound around the ankle. She also selected a colorful, sheer scarf, which she draped across her damaged features and fastened around her throat.
Then she turned to her partner, taking her by the hand.
“Let’s find you something good, too.”
Bashful, Skar was shaking her head and smiling, as confused as Esther was by the profusion of choices. But Michal was insistent. First, she had the variant girl try on a pleated skirt, then a pair of pants with baggy pockets, then some thick leggings, as well as a variety of tops and shoes. As Skar turned and modeled the different outfits, the two broke into frequent peals of laughter.
Es
ther watched them, puzzled yet happy that they were having a good time. Finally, Skar found some shorts she didn’t mind, as well as a sleeveless top, while Michal dressed Kai in a pair of red overalls and matching socks.
Esther settled on a black T-shirt and jeans, the plainest things she could find. She located Skar’s necklace, the one her friend had given her as a going-away gift, which she had put aside for safekeeping. Thankful Bao hadn’t thrown it away, she slipped it into her pocket. It’s only clothes, she thought as she put them on. And the items were nice, she had to admit; even she could tell they were of high quality and made to last. Perhaps she was being foolish to be so leery of such generosity.
Still, until she knew more about their hosts, she disliked the idea of being beholden to them.
After they had finished dressing, the girls and Kai went into the hall, where a smiling Bao was waiting. She led them down to an open area on the second floor, where a long table was set with a blue cloth, white plates, and crystal goblets.
Eli, Joseph, and Silas were already seated there. Esther almost didn’t recognize them; they too looked much cleaner, their hair still damp. And like the girls, they were dressed in unfamiliar new clothes: colorful shirts, baggy belted shorts, and running shoes.
There was something else about them that seemed strange. Esther had to think about it for a moment before she figured it out.
For the first time in her life, her friends looked young.
“Look.” As the girls took their seats, a beaming Joseph, dressed in an unfamiliar jacket, modeled two new watches he wore on his arm. “They said I could take as many as I wanted, but I didn’t want to be greedy.”
“And I got new shoes,” added Silas, sticking out a foot. Even Eli seemed proud of how he looked, his hair slicked down and his face shining. He smiled at Esther as she slipped into the chair to his left.
Several adults were already bringing in large platters, which they placed in front of the travelers. Famished, Kai was already fussing, sucking on his fist and squirming in a plastic baby seat. Yet when everyone picked up their forks to eat, they hesitated, confused and appalled.
It wasn’t food.
Eli prodded the objects on his plate with his finger. They were colors food wasn’t meant to be: orange, green, yellow, red. And everything had a peculiar odor, too.
It smells like wet leaves, Esther thought with dismay.
From where they stood, the adults chuckled.
“They’ve never seen vegetables before,” whispered one man. Another murmured in the strange language and again, they all laughed.
Silas overheard this, and his face flushed with annoyance. With his fork, he stabbed a small, brown sphere from a bowl full of them. Defiantly, he popped it in his mouth and chewed as the others watched.
“It don’t taste like much,” he said, his mouth full. Then he swallowed and smiled. “But it ain’t bad.”
After that, everyone began eating, at first with caution, then with desperate hunger. Within moments, there were no sounds but chewing and swallowing, and the clank of silverware on plates.
Yet although she too was starving, Esther could only manage a few bites, chewing over and over before she could swallow.
Being here felt unreal, like a hallucination brought on by a bad fever. She and her people had traveled for weeks on the open road, suffering unspeakable losses to get to this place, fueled by dreams of its perfection. But what had they found?
Yes, there was great wealth here, the kind Esther had never imagined possible. The dinner alone could feed three or four times as many and the stores could clothe hundreds, if not thousands, more. The adults had even discovered how to procure the most valuable luxury of all, old age. Yet mere feet away, the city outside seemed a terrifying wasteland of the walking dead.
If there was abundance, it was obviously reserved for the very few. And there was no guarantee that it was meant for them.
Esther’s thoughts were interrupted by the distant sound of gunfire. She glanced up, startled, but none of her friends seemed to have noticed. Only Inna, who stood with the other adults, caught her eye and smiled.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “You’re safe here. We’re very vigilant.”
Esther smiled back. But knowing the woman was now watching her, she became self-conscious about not eating and so picked up her fork again.
She wasn’t the only one having trouble with what was served. Joseph, seated across from her, was fussing with something in his lap. It turned out to be his cat. Released from her carrier at last, Stumpy was wriggling about in a desperate attempt to escape as Joseph tried to get her to eat.
“Excuse me.” Flustered, Joseph turned to Inna, who came forward smiling. “I’m afraid my friend doesn’t like vegetables. Do you have anything else I could feed her?”
“Your friend?” When Inna saw the animal, her smile froze and a look of distaste crossed her face.
“No,” she said. Her voice was stiff. “I’m afraid not.”
Joseph was too distracted by Stumpy to notice. “She likes meat,” he explained, extricating his cat’s claws from the tablecloth. “Do you have any meat around here? Squirrel or rabbit?”
“I said, no.” At the sharpness of her tone, Michal and Silas glanced up. Inna lowered her voice and continued. “What I meant was, we almost never go outside anymore . . . it’s much too dangerous. So we only have it on very rare occasions, when we’re lucky to come across it. It’s a real treat.”
By now, it had grown dark, and candles were brought in and lit. Everyone had eaten their fill and as the adults led them away from the table, there was much talk and laughter—the first Esther had heard in many days. Her friends were so happy, it seemed wrong to share her concerns with them.
Esther was the last to leave; she was having trouble unfastening the straps that held Kai in his special chair. Much of his food was still on his face, and he was falling asleep. The others had disappeared up the stairs, casting long shadows against the walls as their voices echoed and faded. Esther was about to join them, when out of the dimness, Inna spoke.
“Esther,” she said. “May I?”
The woman stepped into the light. Smiling at Kai, she extended her arms. “Just for a few moments?”
Esther hesitated. Ever since her encounter with Lewt, she had been loath to let the child leave her arms for even a moment. Yet Inna seemed so gentle that Esther handed him over.
The woman took him as if he were a precious gift, nuzzling into his neck as she held him close against her shoulder. Then she rocked him, stroking his head and murmuring words Esther could not hear.
“Aren’t there any babies in Mundreel?” Esther asked.
Inna glanced up, puzzled, then laughed.
“Montreal,” she corrected. The word sounded strange to Esther, yet exotic and pretty. Montreal. “And no . . . at least not in the District. We’ve all tried, of course. But now that we’re older, we’ve pretty much given up.”
Esther nodded. In Prin, pregnancy had been a rare event, too. “I’m sorry,” she tried to say, but her voice was faint.
Watching Inna and Kai gave her a strange feeling. The image of woman and child seemed both familiar and foreign, comforting and disturbing at the same time. Without warning, a wave of nausea passed over her. She gripped the arms of her chair, to steady herself.
The candlelight threw deep shadows across Inna’s face. She was now speaking of the other adults and their home together, and Esther did her best to listen. But a distant buzzing sound obscured Inna’s words. Esther had the impression that she was standing far away, at the end of a dark tunnel. Without warning, it tilted to one side.
Esther’s insides lurched, and a sour taste flooded her mouth. She pushed away from the table, but it was too late. Retching, she threw up the meager contents of her stomach on the linen tablecloth, the brocade chair, and her dinner plate. Even when there was no more, her insides continued to heave.
When it was over, Esther sat back, appalled
. “I’m so sorry,” she stammered. The beautiful remains of the dinner party were now sodden and reeking. Mortified, she picked up her napkin and attempted to wipe the table clean. But Inna took it away from her, gently but firmly.
“I’m the one who should apologize.” The older woman dipped a clean corner of the cloth in a water goblet and, without asking, used it to blot Esther’s mouth. “You haven’t eaten in days, and you’re not accustomed to vegetables. I should have been more careful.”
“Thank you,” Esther tried to say. But instead of feeling better, she only grew dizzier. When she tried to stand, her eyes rolled up in her head as her knees buckled. Without a sound, she dropped to the floor.
When she woke up, Esther had no idea where she was.
In the darkness, she was being carried in arms that were strong yet soft, cradled against a breast that smelled of roses. Instinctively, she tried to struggle her way free. Yet as she stirred, a voice from above spoke to her.
“Shhh.” It was Inna. “You need to get some sleep. Just rest.”
“Where’s Kai?”
“Don’t worry . . . he’s right here. Everything will be all right.”
“Give him to me. I can walk.” Stubbornly, Esther attempted once more to break loose, yet found she lacked the strength. Weak as a newborn, she had no choice but to allow herself to be held.
And to her surprise, it felt good. For the first time in months, Esther sensed her tension and suspicion start to ease, lulled by the rocking motion of Inna climbing the steep steps, one at a time.
Inna brought her to a darkened room on the top floor of the mall. With Kai strapped onto her back, the older woman set Esther down on a bed that had been freshly made with clean sheets and a thick blanket. Esther noted two other cots nearby holding motionless silhouettes, probably Skar and Michal.
As Esther sank into the exquisite softness of the mattress, the woman sat next to her, a sleeping Kai still in his harness, and stroked Esther’s hair with a gossamer touch.
“Inna.” Still weak, Esther could only whisper. “Have others lived in the District with you?”
