by Susan Kim
The idea was clever yet so simple.
The adults had so much to teach them, Joseph thought.
He only hoped he had enough time to learn it all.
Miles away, the rain came down in torrents.
Aras stood in the doorway of an abandoned home, his heart pounding; he had only just missed being drenched. He took a dry cloth from his backpack and ran it over himself with care before flinging it aside. He had known the storm was coming; over the day, the heavy air had grown even thicker, and stiff winds had begun to kick. Still, it had come on with surprising speed, catching him unawares.
After leaving the others, Aras had made his way back south until he found a village off an exit. He still had a good sense of how towns were laid out. With Pilot, he managed to make his way through a cluster of houses, finding a few edible items in the destroyed kitchens.
Now supper could wait; for although he trusted Pilot, Aras didn’t much like the idea of investigating an abandoned home in the rain. When it stopped, he would be able to find a dry corner and build a fire. Until then, he would have to pass the time.
Normally, he would roll up a smoking paper. Yet something held him back, as it had for days now.
It was the thought of Esther.
When he least expected it, he could sense her presence next to him. And she haunted his dreams: He could still feel her features, fine and delicate, beneath his fingertips, and the softness of her lips. Tormented, he wished that she would leave him, as he had left her.
By now, the rain had stopped. And in the silence, Aras heard something he hadn’t before.
It was the sound of breathing.
Someone else was in the room.
He whirled around, wondering why Pilot had not attacked. Then he noticed it was an uneven sound, shallow and rapid. Taking Pilot by the collar, he took a tentative step toward its source.
“Don’t.”
The word, tiny and dry, was the sound of a dead leaf brushing the ground. It was impossible to tell if it was boy or girl, someone young or old. And Aras realized with sudden clarity that it didn’t matter.
The stranger was sick. Whatever it had been once upon a time, it was near death now.
Aras instinctively pressed the crook of his elbow hard against his mouth and nose and turned to go. Then he hesitated. In his mind, he saw Esther again, racing to help Rhea after she plummeted into the pool. He knew what she would have done.
Aras set his backpack down. Then he unzipped it. Rummaging through his belongings, he removed some of the food he had found, as well as a bottle of water. He clicked a command to Pilot and the dog led him forward.
“Here,” he said, his voice still muffled. He crouched down and offered up the supplies, taking care to keep a safe distance. Whoever it was didn’t take them and after a moment, Aras returned them to his bag. “How long you been here?”
“Don’t know.”
“Where you come from?”
There was silence. Then the word came out as an exhalation. “Mundreel.”
Aras was startled. He couldn’t help but ask, “How come you left?”
More silence. Aras waited, then after a minute, got to his feet. As he stood in the doorway, he heard behind him three distinct words.
“Didn’t leave. Escaped.”
Aras swung around. “What you mean?” But this time, there was no reply.
The hair on Aras’s neck was standing up. Twice he had ventured to the edges of the city yet never entered.
Who lived there?
What had he delivered Esther to?
Aras stayed in the house for several hours, until he knew it was safe to venture out. By then, he could feel the relative coolness of the evening air. He didn’t mind traveling at night.
Aras no longer had his compass, of course; he had given it to Esther. Yet he hoped that as long as he kept to the major road, he would be all right.
Without detours, he figured he would be in Mundreel in a few days.
Something told him there was no time to waste.
Eighteen
SEVERAL DAYS LATER, INNA HOSTED A PARTY.
Feeling shy, the young people stood by themselves to one side of the big room on the top floor of the District. The large table had been moved, pushed against the wall by Eli and Joseph. Now it was heaped with food and drink.
Like her friends, Esther had put on her nicest clothing. She wore a floral skirt that twirled and billowed when she walked, a pink sweater, and a delicate choker of the white beads called “pearls.” The outfit felt strange to her, and what’s more, it was nearly impossible to walk in the red shoes she wore, fastened with a tiny buckle at the ankle. Yet the clothes were a gift from Inna, and Esther was determined to show her gratitude. As she entered with Kai, she combed his hair with her fingers; she wanted him to look presentable for the woman who had been so nice to them.
The adults were clustered on the other side of the room, laughing and chatting to one another in their odd language as they handed around thin silver discs, which they examined and compared. In their midst was a peculiar device Esther had seen earlier: a metallic box with buttons on it. Now one of the grown-ups inserted a disc, pressing a button with a loud click; and within moments, a strange sound filled the air.
It was unlike anything the younger people had heard before: rich, rhythmic, complex. Esther cocked her head, frowning with concentration, and decided she liked it.
“Why don’t you dance?”
Esther looked up and saw Inna smiling at her. “I don’t know what that is.”
“It’s what people do when there’s music,” Inna explained. She waved her hand at the sound. “You see? This is music.”
“Oh.” Esther felt self-conscious about her ignorance. “Is dancing a ritual?”
“No.” Then Inna corrected herself. “Well, I suppose it is, sometimes. But mostly, it’s for fun. Like this.”
The older woman closed her eyes and began to sway in time to the music. Esther thought she looked beautiful.
“See?” Inna stopped, with a laugh. “It’s kind of like that. Only a lot of people can do it better.” Now she was the one to appear self-conscious, tidying away a piece of her hair that had become untucked. “And it’s even better when you don’t do it alone.”
“You mean with other people?”
“With someone else. Yes.”
Frowning, Esther turned and shot an inquiring glance around the room. Her gaze landed on Joseph. Her friend, who had been studying the floor, looked up and by accident locked eyes with her. Then he cleared his throat, with great discomfort.
“I have to talk to Silas,” he said, and bolted.
Esther sighed and Inna patted the girl’s shoulder. “Girls like to dance more than boys do,” she remarked with sympathy.
“I’ll do it.”
Esther turned to see who had spoken. Standing in front of her was Eli, looking nervous yet eager.
“Do you want to? Really?”
“Maybe.” Eli became sheepish. “I mean . . . if you want to.”
Esther was surprised to find she really did want to dance. Yet for some reason, she felt embarrassed to admit it.
Still, this was enough for Inna. “Just wait here,” she said. “I’ll switch the music.”
She held out her hand for Kai and led him across the room. There, she too fumbled with the discs, holding them close to examine them.
Esther and Eli looked everywhere but at each other. When the new music began, both glanced up, startled; yet within seconds, they found themselves smiling. This new sound was different from the first. It felt quicker, stronger, even thrilling.
Hearing it, you had to dance.
“Watch!” Inna shouted, startling and embarrassing them both. “Watch us!”
She and Ramon stood facing each other. Inna put one hand on his shoulder, while he held her waist. They raised their other arms, and hands clasped, they began to move together in time to the music.
Esther and Eli watched them, spellbound.
“Now it’s your turn!” Inna called.
Panicked, Esther looked at Eli. She thought he seemed more frightened than he ever had on the road, even when their lives were in danger.
Then he swallowed and raised his arms stiffly.
“Ready?” he said.
Esther nodded. She clutched his shoulder and, lifting her other arm, took his extended hand, which was rigid and sweating.
There was a pleasant twanging quality to the music, and its pulsating rhythm was accented by a steady clashing sound. Two or three boys seemed to be singing, their voices interweaving in a strange way; sometimes, it was hard to tell there was more than one.
The words were simple and repetitive:
If I gave
My heart away,
Would you be
My girl today?
And make me
Feel that bliss?
’Cause I’ve never
Been a boy
Who’s ever
Known the joy
That comes
With a kiss . . . .
At first, Esther and Eli lurched and shuffled, their desperate eyes locked on Inna and her partner across the room. The older people made it look so easy, while Eli and Esther rocked back and forth in an agony of clumsy anxiety.
But as the song continued, Esther began to ease into it, as did Eli. It was not that they made fewer mistakes; both had begun to relax and actually listen to the music. Instead of clutching Eli like they were both drowning, Esther held him lightly, his chest pressed against hers. It was an odd sensation, to cling to someone so close in public as they both swayed to and fro. Still, she found it pleasant to lean against his warmth, to feel her waist encircled by his arm.
Up close, Esther could smell Eli now, his hair, his skin; it was nice. Esther looked into Eli’s eyes, really looked, something she had never done before. Dark brown, with flecks of gold in them, they were limpid, open, and appealing. She remembered that he had once asked to be her partner in Prin. What if he were to ask again?
With a start, Esther realized that these feelings weren’t genuine. The music had made her see him in this way.
’Cause I couldn’t
Take the shame
If you
Told me no
And you did not
Feel the same.
Esther glanced over Eli’s shoulder. Skar and Michal were on the floor as well, finding a rhythm in each other’s arms. Michal had her head resting on Skar’s shoulder, her eyes shut. The two seemed natural, comfortable together, and Skar looked happy in a way Esther had never seen before.
Inna and Ramon had finished dancing. The older woman now walked over to Kai and took him from Bao. As she led him into the hall, she caught Esther’s eye across the dance floor. She winked and made the boy wave; and then they were gone.
That was when the full meaning of what had happened hit Esther.
This was our life now, she thought. No more worrying about food or water or a safe place to sleep. No need to fight every day to stay alive. Inna and Ramon would take care of everything.
All they had to do was dance.
In a corner of the room, Joseph milled, restlessly. Next to him Silas seemed anxious, biting a thumbnail.
“Why don’t you dance with each other?” Bao had asked.
Uneasy, Silas didn’t reply. When he glanced at Joseph, he only saw the boy’s back. Joseph was walking, swiftly and stiffly, out of the room.
In the hall, pacing, Joseph tried to forget about the dancing, not wishing to be reminded of the whole silly thing. Of all the useless artifacts from the past to retain! He was annoyed that not only did his face still feel hot, he couldn’t keep from humming the tune of the song being played.
“‘’Cause I couldn’t take the shame . . .’”
Exasperated, he stopped. To divert himself, he thought of the offer Ramon had made him earlier. The promise of his new responsibilities was so exciting, he was cheered up all over again. Then he felt the cat carrier he always wore on his shoulder shift as he heard the sound of a cat mewing.
Joseph set the leather-and-canvas bag on the ground. Unzipping it, he freed the restless tabby waiting inside.
“Let’s go find something for you to eat,” he said.
He located the unlit stairwell at the end of the hallway and, together, the boy and animal edged down in the darkness. Once they emerged in the mall itself, his cat followed in her fashion—occasionally wandering off to the side, sniffing around, investigating sounds only she could hear. He noted her pinched sides and bony hips with a pang. Although he managed to get her to eat a few vegetables, Stumpy was starving, he knew. Perhaps with any luck, they would come across a squirrel or a mouse that had managed to find its way inside.
Although he didn’t mean to, Joseph soon found himself heading in a new direction. He rounded a corner, then another. Within minutes, he found himself on a completely new hallway, where it was mostly dark. As he passed one unfamiliar store after another, each with metal gates rolled down and fastened to the ground with a padlock, he realized that he was lost. Feeling forlorn, Joseph stopped in his tracks.
“Hey there.”
Joseph turned and saw someone stumbling toward him through the dim and silent hall, holding aloft a lit torch. It was Ramon, who had apparently grown tired of the party, as well.
Joseph felt self-conscious to be found lurking around in the dark. But the old man, who smelled a little like the intoxicating liquid that the adults had been drinking, didn’t seem to care. When he drew closer, Joseph could see a foolish grin on his face.
“There’s only so much dancing a man can do,” Ramon said. “Am I right?”
Joseph found himself nodding with vigor; he couldn’t agree more. Then he felt Ramon’s hand drop heavily onto his shoulder and shake it once, hard.
“Sometimes men have to attend to more important things,” Ramon said. “Right?”
“Right.”
“Feel like getting to work already?”
“I do!” The truth was, there was nothing he would rather be doing at that moment.
“I thought so. You’ve got a good mind.”
“Well,” Joseph got up the nerve to say, “not like you. You’re a real historian.”
Joseph’s sincere flattery seemed to decide something in Ramon’s mind. Rifling through his pockets, the man brought out a set of keys.
“Come in,” he said. “I’ll show you my other archive.”
Ramon handed his torch to the boy before bending to unlock a door. Then, squatting with much effort, he grabbed the bottom of the gate and attempted to lift it.
Joseph grew concerned. “Do you need any help?” he offered, but the man waved him off.
“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he wheezed. “I’m not that old.”
Finally, with much groaning and cursing, Ramon succeeded in rolling the metal gate up, which screamed and rattled in its rusty track.
Joseph and Stumpy followed as the older man entered a dusty space filled with one desk and many file cabinets and shelves. Ramon moved to the desk and stuck the torch in a metal bracket. Then he patted the swivel chair before it.
“Take a load off,” he said.
Joseph eventually realized that this meant he should sit down. Meanwhile, Ramon was rummaging through some high shelves, grunting to himself. He returned to dump several flat wire baskets onto the desk. As he leaned over Joseph, the smell of his drink was overpowering.
“Here you go,” Ramon said, with obvious pride. “You can see the kind of thing I’ve been up to. I’m going to need a little help putting them in order.”
They were records, and the amount of information they represented was dizzying. Each page was nearly black on both sides with tiny, terse descriptions, numbers, dates, and times: ounces planted/yield percentage. Six kilograms radishes. Twenty-one kilograms potatoes. Thirty-six liters of water. Compostable remains. Vol. of compost tea in milliliters.
The accounting it rep
resented wasn’t just thorough; it was overwhelming. Eight baskets were piled on the desk, and there were clearly many more, filling up nearly an entire wall. The words and numbers began to swarm in front of Joseph’s eyes, like ants.
Then Ramon seemed to get inspired.
“Hold on,” he said. “I’ll get you the original notes, which were all handwritten and crude. Maybe that would be a good place for you to start.”
Ramon stumbled away. Joseph heard the older man rifle through file cabinets on the far side of the store as the torchlight threw crooked shadows against the wall. Ramon made a lot of noise: closing some drawers, opening others, catching his fingers in one, cursing, slamming it shut.
Utterly confused, Joseph picked up one sheet and then another. Wanting to make a good impression, he seized an entire basket in the impossible hope of skimming its contents before the man returned. In his haste, his finger hooked the one beneath it, causing it to tip and begin to spill its paper. Joseph lunged to save it and, as a result, knocked the stack to the floor with a clatter.
Luckily, Ramon was either too groggy or making too much noise to notice. “Be right there!” he called. He sounded the most jovial he had been since Joseph and the others had arrived.
Filled with fresh panic, Joseph crouched low to the ground, wringing his hands over the mountain of paper. He was about to stuff the whole pile into the wire baskets when he realized that they were now completely mixed up. Frantically, he picked up a few sheets, checked the dates, and stuck them into one of the containers. Then he scooped up another handful, and another, and another, trying to put them into some semblance of order.
Records were still scattered all over the floor and Ramon would be back any second now. Nearly fainting with terror, Joseph had begun cramming papers into their bins any which way, when his eye fell on one sheet.
He stopped to read it.
Repurposing of visitors . . . Capture and corralling . . . three male, one female . . . thirty-three kilograms. Forty-eight kilograms. Forty-one kilograms . . . Breaking down of carcasses . . .
Joseph’s gaze skittered down the page, not making sense of what he saw. Yet as he read, a strange, unpleasant feeling began to steal over him and he could feel the skin of his neck prickle.
