Wasteland (Wasteland - Trilogy)

by Kim, Susan

  “Like the Excavation,” said Caleb. “Everybody is digging all across town. But nobody knows what they’re looking for, either.”

  “Maybe this book tells him where it is, and that’s why he wants it so bad.”

  The two continued flipping through the pages with greater urgency. Yet neither could read more than a few words, and the drawings had grown too confusing. They were so close and yet could go no further.

  Frustrated, Caleb closed the cover. Then he placed the book back in Esther’s bag.

  The night before, both he and Esther had felt that the other was his or her missing piece. Together, they formed a whole that was invincible; nothing and no one else would ever be needed by either of them again. Now he realized that they were only two people, limited in both power and knowledge and ostracized from everyone else. And their opponent had never been more powerful.

  But in the face of such hopelessness, Caleb realized there was also nothing to lose. There was still one thing he could try to do—the most important thing of all.

  “I have to get my son,” he said. “I got a feeling this is my last chance.”

  He started to stand, but Esther held him back.

  “You can’t,” she said. “You’re not strong enough.”

  It was true. Even the act of standing was exhausting and his left arm hung weak and immobile, useless in a battle. “Besides,” Esther continued, “everybody in Prin thinks you’re the enemy now. You’ll never make it past the town, much less into the Source.”

  “I’ll take the risk,” he said.

  “No,” Esther said. “I will.”

  Caleb smiled despite himself; Esther was brave and impulsive in equal measure. “That’s crazy. The town will be on the lookout for you, too. And you’ve never even been inside the Source.”

  “So? You can tell me where I should look.”

  “But I don’t even know where they got him hidden.”

  “I can search for him, then. I’m good at that.” When Caleb hesitated, Esther pressed her point. “Whoever goes has to be able to move fast, without being seen. And maybe I don’t know the Source, but I know Prin. It should be me.”

  Still, Caleb hesitated. He thought about the labyrinthine layout of the Source and Levi’s boys posted on every floor. They both knew how dangerous the guards could be. “But you’re no good at fighting,” he said.

  She shook her head. “I know. But I’m just going to get in, find him, and get him out without being seen. There won’t be any fighting.”

  Caleb touched her cheek and then gave a brief nod.

  When he thought about it later, Caleb wondered why he agreed. Yet at that moment, he trusted her absolutely.

  “The Source seems to have three levels,” he said. With effort, he squatted down to push aside the straw by their feet; then he drew his own inexpert map in the dust with his finger. “The goods are mostly on the main level. Levi has a girl, Michal. That’s where her room is, around the back. It’s near the loading dock, the other entrance. Your best approach is probably through there, though there’s a kind of eye that can watch your movements. In fact, they’re all over the place. There’s a basement, and guards are everywhere. The top floor is mostly empty, although Levi’s office can move up and down between all of them.”

  Esther listened as she pulled on her own shirt and jeans, and laced her sneakers.

  “I don’t know where they’re keeping Kai,” he continued. “They may have moved him since they know I saw something. I think your best bet is either the ground floor, off to the side. Or else the basement.”

  Esther nodded. She had taken the food and most of the water out of the messenger bag for him. She kept the rest, looping the shoulder strap across her chest. Then, atop it all, she pulled back on the robes that obscured who she was.

  The last thing she did was pick up the strip of fabric from the floor, the partnering cloth. She tore it in two, wound one side into a ribbon and tied it around her wrist.

  Caleb did the same, on the opposite hand as hers. Then he kissed her once, hard. He didn’t say, “Be careful”; he felt he didn’t need to. Yet after Esther was gone, as he lay there, he wished he had. Closing his eyes, he thought it over and over, like a prayer.

  Esther ditched Caleb’s bike on a scrubby hill behind the Source. She lay as flat as possible on the ridge, just out of sight, as she considered the imposing building. She was facing the back entrance at the loading dock. In contrast to the massive electrified front door, this one was small and poorly patrolled with only one guard on watch.

  She had assumed she would be able to scale the wall and get in from the roof somehow; but now she was here, she realized that her plan was unworkable. The structure was too enormous and utterly smooth, with no apparent footholds: no one, not even the most skilled variant, could possibly get in that way. While her impulsiveness had always served her in the past, Esther realized that now there was too much at stake to be hotheaded. Instead, she would have to slow down, think everything through, and exploit whatever opportunities she could find.

  To strategize, as Skar would say.

  It felt like years had passed since she and Skar had played Shelter amid these scorched fields, hiding from the work teams as her friend taught her variants’ skills. Esther felt she carried the spirits of both Skar and Caleb inside of her and was being guided by their love.

  As if he could hear her thoughts, the guard looked over in her direction. Esther froze. He noticed nothing and turned away again. Restless, he now sat down on the metal steps that led to the Source’s entrance and reached under his black hood to wipe his brow.

  Let nothing go to waste, Skar always told her. Use what is available.

  She glanced around, frustrated. Scattered in the dead, bleached grass were pebbles and twigs, but they were too small to hurl. Nearby, she found a crushed soda can, a broken pair of glasses, a dusty bottle cap. It was all trash, the usual insignificant garbage that cluttered the fields and streets of Prin. How could she possibly find any use for objects that were so worthless?

  Esther remembered another thing Skar used to say, and it made her smile: Make a bad thing into a good thing. Certainly, everything about her current situation was a bad thing: the fact that she was alone, outnumbered, unarmed. Moreover, it was unusually hot even though it was early morning, with waves of heat billowing over the dusty parking lot. Although she rubbed her sleeve across her face, sweat dripped down, stinging her eyes.

  But that might be the kind of bad thing Skar was talking about.

  Prin’s blazing sun.

  Esther’s mind raced. She might be able to find something that could reflect its rays, something that could blind the guard. Yet even as she considered it, she was already discarding this plan; he wouldn’t stay blinded long enough for her to sneak by.

  But another idea was forming in her mind.

  Making sure to keep her profile low, Esther began to collect the detritus around her, scraping it off the ground: dry leaves, dead grass, papery scraps of bark. This she cobbled together into a scraggly pile.

  She didn’t have matches or a firestarter on her; those were precious items that were only kept at home. But she did have the broken pair of glasses. Esther picked them up and used a piece of her sweatshirt to rub the dirt off the one lens that wasn’t shattered. When she raised it to her eye, she was satisfied to see how well it magnified.

  She hoped it was strong enough.

  She held it above the pile of tinder, moving it up and down by minute degrees until she was able to focus a ray of sun into a tight and tiny beam of heat. Then she waited.

  A feather of smoke began to curl up, and Esther’s hope grew. But it was too early to celebrate. So she kept the speck of heat trained on the pile as she began to gently blow on it. Before long, a small flame flickered upward, which she fed with more dead leaves and dried grass. The dry bed beneath it ignited and fire began to spread. The flames were about a handspan high now, but it was only when they were strong enoug
h to leap to a nearby patch of dead grass that Esther crawled away on her belly, putting as much distance between herself and the flames while staying as close to the Source as she could.

  Then she stopped and peered over the ridge.

  The guard was watching the ground by his feet, still paying no attention to his surroundings. But after a few moments, he lifted his head and seemed to sniff the air.

  He was mostly faced away from her; Esther couldn’t tell from his stance whether he was annoyed by the distraction or happy to have something to do. In any case, he lumbered to his feet. Then he started walking toward the fire.

  Esther sprang to her feet and, keeping low, ran farther along the ridge, increasing the distance between herself and the fire. Then she breached the crest of the ridge and, still running low to the ground, made for the Source and the loading-dock door.

  Above it, she saw a strange metal box attached to a strut. This had to be one of the “eyes” Caleb warned her about. Praying that she was coming in at too sharp an angle to be detected and moving too fast for anyone to notice even if she was, she bolted up the cement steps two at a time and disappeared into the entrance, without an interruption. The door banged behind her, and the huge, dark, and silent interior seemed to swallow her whole.

  Inside, Esther avoided any open areas and stayed close to the heavily stocked shelves, hiding in their shadows. She paused to get her bearings, remembering the map that Caleb drew. After she checked the ground level, she would try to make her way downstairs.

  Esther ran as she was taught, noiselessly and low to the ground, keeping both hands in front of and beside her. She slowed down as she passed a door to what had to be the room of Levi’s girl; it was empty. Beyond it, there were more enclosed spaces, as well as the remains of an eating area. She saw that all of these places were empty as well; and so she veered off into the main room again, back into the dim jungle of tall shelves stacked with cartons, trying to stay out of the sight of the mechanical eyes, wherever they might have been.

  She was not prepared for the barbed wire.

  There was a loud ripping sound as Esther was yanked backward. She had run too close to the shelves and had been caught by one of the giant coils of barbed wire that surrounded them, the sharp metal slashing through and catching in her robe. Cursing to herself, she backed up, reaching out with one hand to try to untangle herself from the cruel razor edges. Far off, she could hear the sound of a guard saying something in a loud voice, then laughing. She didn’t know if he was approaching but she needed to free herself at once.

  Yet it was hard enough to do without having to hurry. Esther tried to jerk free of the wire, not realizing it was now snagged on her sleeve. As she pulled away, tearing the garment, the entire coiled length unexpectedly came with her, knocking over the huge cardboard crate perched on the edge of a shelf.

  Esther winced, waiting for the crash.

  But instead of thundering to the ground, the carton fell without a sound. Puzzled, Esther pushed it with her foot. Then she stooped to lift it. Although the crate was large enough to hold four of her, it was so light, she could pick it up with one hand. And it was unsealed, its tabs flapping open.

  The box was empty.

  Now Esther was confused. She slid out another carton on the shelf, one that was located behind the first, a giant crate marked GOYA: DRY ROMAN BEANS: 160 UNITS. This box was also light enough to be pulled out with ease and had been opened.

  It was empty.

  Esther pulled down another carton sitting on the shelf above it, and another, and another. She turned and, taking care to avoid the barbed wire, pulled down the boxes behind her, along the entire row. The crates were weightless, bumping into each other like playthings for a giant baby.

  Esther stood still in the dim aisle, the giant boxes piled up on the ground around her. Her mind was racing. She could not make sense of the fact that she was in the Source, surrounded by the cardboard crates that were filled with the food and water that kept Prin alive.

  And yet they were all empty.

  But she had no time to investigate further. Behind her, she heard the sounds of more guards talking, getting closer. Esther had made such a mess, it was only a matter of time before her presence was noticed. Making up her mind, she added to the pile, removing the ripped robes that could only slow her down. She had to get to the basement while she still had the opportunity. She took off again before she heard something that made her stop in her tracks.

  A faint, high-pitched cry echoed in the darkness. Was she imagining it? No. Although she had only heard it a few times in her life, Esther knew what it was.

  It was the sound of a baby crying.

  It came from somewhere across the huge room and grew louder as Esther approached.

  In a far corner of the main floor, she could make out two open doorways side by side in a recessed area behind a cement partition. Stopping in the shadows of a nearby shelf of boxed electronics, Esther squinted at the faded images painted on the wall beside the two doorways. The one to the right showed a crude image of a human wearing a short robe; the word WOMEN was painted below it. In the other, a similar figure was wearing pants; and below it was painted the word MEN.

  The wails seemed to be coming from one of the two doors.

  She assumed it was the entrance to the right; it was flanked by two hooded guards, weapons displayed in their belts. Again, Esther sorted through her options. The guards were bigger and heavier than she was, not to mention they were armed and she was not; yet with luck combined with the element of surprise, she might be able to waylay one and then get past the other. But once inside, what then? They would certainly come after her and there would be no escape. There was no way to tell if the room had another exit; she could easily be cornered.

  Then her problem was solved for her.

  A strange sound crackled through the air and one of the guards pulled out a black plastic device attached to his belt. “Security breach,” it rasped. “Everyone, report to Section A-Seventeen. Aisle Five.”

  Esther ducked deeper into the shadows as the two guards, pulling out their weapons, lumbered past.

  For the moment, the room was unguarded. Esther darted through the door. Inside, the child’s cries were deafening, echoing off the hard interior. Everything in the room was white tile, gray metal, steel, glass. To one side was a series of stalls, each with a swinging door that opened on a built-in seat with a hollowed center. Old-fashioned and ridiculous, the seat was the ancient indoor waste removal contraption she had seen many times before, although rarely so many at once. Across from them was a bank of matching white sinks. Above that, Esther saw herself reflected in a long mirror that stretched down the wall.

  And at the end of the room, standing in a wooden pen and sobbing, was a small boy.

  Kai.

  Esther started toward him.

  Then she felt rough hands seize her from behind.

  That night, the spill of electric lights revealed a short boy standing outside the massive front door of the Source. In days past, the building seemed to Rafe a sort of blind giant, a faceless god that watched over him and others.

  All that, of course, had changed.

  This was now his third visit, and so he was comfortable on its threshold, bathed in its welcoming shadows. That was not to say he was complacent about being there: No, it never ceased to give him a thrill to be near the impressive structure, and part of the elite allowed to enter.

  Still, today, he was here on business, so he had to temper his excitement.

  Levi had called him here so Rafe could give the results of the town meeting. And although Rafe knew this might be a slightly difficult report to present, he was confident he could do it without issue. He mumbled under his breath, practicing what he intended to say. He changed his words and intonation again and again; he even imitated the facial expressions and hand gestures he would use. Then he looked up.

  A hooded guard stood before him at the giant door. Through mirrored
sunglasses, he stared impassively ahead.

  “Excuse me?” Rafe said. “I’m here for the meeting.”

  There was a long silence. “Who with?” the guard said.

  “Well, with Levi.”

  The sunglasses and mask could not hide the look of disbelief on the guard’s face. Rafe made a mental note to mention this rude lackey to Levi, who he was sure would have something to say about it.

  “Yes,” Rafe said condescendingly. “Levi asked me to come. Tell him Rafe is here.”

  At this, the guard’s eyes narrowed. As if from a great distance, the name rang a dim bell. “Stay here,” the guard said. He disappeared behind the massive door, which slammed shut.

  Rafe told himself to be patient. Yet many minutes crept by. When the door reopened, Rafe was soaked with sweat.

  “Okay,” the guard said. Rafe patted some of the sweat from his face and adjusted his robes. The guard ushered him into the darkness, despite Rafe’s repeated insistence that he knew the way. Annoyed, he comforted himself with the thought that the insubordinate fool would one day be working for him.

  Soon they were standing in front of the small office, lit by an overhead bulb. It shone on the head and shoulders of one sitting alone at a large desk, the features in his pale face cast deep in shadow.

  “Levi,” Rafe said. Aware that some more formal salutation might be required of him, he bowed at the waist.

  There was no response right away.

  “Hello, Rafe,” Levi replied at last. “Thank you for coming.”

  Rafe gave a sidelong smirk toward the guard, as if to say, what did I tell you? Then, with confidence, he turned back to Levi and plunged ahead with his prepared speech.

  “I passed along your generous offer to the townspeople,” Rafe said. “And naturally, it was way more than they were expecting. Frankly, Levi, between me and you, it was way more than they deserve. But surely, you must have taken that into account when you—”