In a Handful of Dust (32 page)

“That’s more true than you know,” Lander said. “Go on then.”

Lucy felt the thunder roll through the room as clearly as the rage that pulsed through Ben as he knelt in front of her, disbelief sagging his shoulders. “Dad?”

“What?” Lander asked. “You really don’t think I can make one better than you?” He reached down and touched Lynn’s hair with fondness, despite the fact that his other hand was still threatening to crack her arm in half. “This woman here and me combined? Now that’s something I want to see.”

Ben sprang so quickly Lucy lost her grip on the Tasers, one of them nearly sliding from her sweaty palm. Ben hit Lander in a ball of fury, his attack so unexpected it sent his father reeling off Lynn, who dragged herself out of the way as the two struggled. There was a loud crack and a squeal of pain from Ben, and then Lucy was above both of them, jamming the Tasers into Lander’s temples and delivering a jolt that sent electricity flowing from father to son as their entwined limbs danced.

Lucy’s arms couldn’t keep the connection anymore, and she fell to the ground. The smell of singed flesh and burning hair filled the room, tinged with the tweak of ozone when another flash of lightning ripped through the night air, and the building shook with the rumble of the thunder. Lynn dragged herself to Lucy’s side to cradle the girl’s head in her lap.

“You okay?”

Lucy nodded, the tender skin of her cheek rubbing against Lynn’s jeans. “Did I kill them?”

“Well, Lander’s hair is on fire and he’s not doing anything about it, so my guess is yeah, you did.”

Lucy turned her face into the bend of Lynn’s knee, tears dripping onto the denim and the delayed twinges of shock sending her into a rippling mass in Lynn’s lap. Lynn’s hands moved through her hair, gently pulling the short, damp ends from her sticky face.

“I know it’s not easy, little one,” she said. “But this is the world we live in, and if we want to keep doing it, sometimes our hands are forced.”

“Lucy?” Ben’s weak voice floated above the still bodies. Lynn rose to her feet, pulling Lucy with her. Ben’s small hands patted out the fires on either side of his father’s skull, surprising Lucy in their gentleness until she realized some of Ben’s own clothing had begun to smolder, and he’d put those sparks out first.

“Ben?” She hovered over him, leaning down as close as she dared to hear his whisper.

“Lucy, we’ve got to go,” Lynn said as she opened a closet and pulled out her rifle, along with a set of keys. “Others live here too, and the storm will be waking them if that ruckus didn’t.”

Ben’s hand grabbed for hers, and she let him hold it. “I think Dad broke my back.”

“Time to go.” Lynn’s hands were on her shoulders, pulling her back from his weak grip.

“Ben,” Lucy stuttered, backing away from his pleading eyes and hands still reaching for her. “I’m sorry, I can’t.”

The plea changed to wrath in a second, and his hands went from penitence to fists as he struck the floor around him. “You
will
take me with you! You can’t leave me broken.”

“Ben,” Lucy said from the doorway, “you were broken long before I got here.”

He screamed at them with all the air left inside him, his wordless anger following them down in the lobby, along with the sound of his upper half dragging his useless legs behind him in a futile effort to catch up.

She followed Lynn on wobbly legs to the parking garage. Ben’s screams had brought others from their rooms, but no one was willing to face Lynn’s gun, and they had the streets to themselves. Lucy slid into the passenger seat with relief, dumping her bag in the back and letting her body go entirely slack.

Lynn drove quickly; Lucy watched her eyes darting back and forth in the rearview mirror, not relaxing until they were well beyond the pale fingers of the dead buildings that reached for the sky. The desert opened up around them again, the emptiness of it all somehow reassuring after the cluttered rot of Las Vegas.

“You know where you’re going?” Lucy asked.

Lynn tapped her temple. “It’s all been up here for the past two states.”

“All right,” Lucy said, her head tilting to one side to rest against the cool window. “I trust you.”

The three small words swelled in magnitude in the confines of the car, and Lynn tightened her grasp on the steering wheel. “I want you to know there’s a lot of things in my life I wish I could take back. If I could only choose one, it’d be Carter.”

“I know it,” Lucy said, eyes still shut. “But it’s done now. It is what it is.”

“Maybe so, but I need you to know he asked me for it. Said he couldn’t stand the guilt of dead children, bodies of the people he knew burning in a pit, and him being what put ’em there. He didn’t want to be alone and . . . he said he couldn’t help but hope you’d be happy, but he hated that it wasn’t with him.”

Tears that she didn’t bother to brush away poured down Lucy’s face. “But it didn’t have to be that way. He didn’t have to die.”

“I didn’t know that, and neither did he. You’re the one that holds on to hope, Lucy. The two of us, we’d already accepted that life is unfair. And he died for it, and I can’t put together enough words to tell you how sorry I am.”

“Neither one of you can be blamed for it,” Lucy said eventually. “This is a hard place we live in.”

“It is indeed,” Lynn answered. The storm finally broke around them, dropping water in great sheets that rolled off the windshield as they headed west.

“But I’m still glad I’m here,” Lucy managed to say as her eyelids closed.

The last thing she heard before she drifted into unconsciousness was Lynn heaving a great sigh and saying, “Lord, I wish I had a five-gallon bucket about now.”

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

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UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

..................................................................

L
ucy resisted when Lynn tried to get her to drink in the morning.

“That’s water from the city,” Lucy said. “I don’t want to drink it.”

Lynn took a swig from her own bottle and swished the water around her mouth. “Knowing what’s in it doesn’t make it taste better, but it’s water all the same.” She handed Lucy the bottle and opened her car door. “Hope you’re not too spoiled by the driving. We’re outta gas.”

“I’ll survive.” Lucy got out, enjoying the feel of the rain-washed air against her skin in the cool morning light. Her lips were dry, and she’d taken a swallow of the water before she had time to think about it.

“How far ’til Sand City?” Lucy asked, looking to the horizon.

“A few hours’ walk is my best guess,” Lynn said.

Lucy leaned against the car. “What do we do when we get there?”

“That’s a good question, and hell if I know,” Lynn answered. “I never came up with an answer, as I was never entirely sure we’d make it.”

“California,” Lucy said, as she looked to the west. “Kinda seemed impossible, didn’t it?”

Lynn shrugged. “You don’t have to look in that direction, you know. We’re in California right now.”

Lucy turned to the north. “California. Kinda seemed impossible, didn’t it?”

Lynn snorted and threw a handful of sand at her.

They hit a field of wind turbines hours later, the turning white arms bright beneath the sun.

“What’re those?” Lucy asked.

“Kinda like a windmill,” Lynn said. “There was a farm back home had one. Stebbs took me out to see it once. They make electricity, though the one in Ohio was all broken down. It didn’t work anymore.”

“These look like they’re working.”

“Which means we’re close.”

“Electricity . . .,” Lucy said, remembering Vera’s stories of light after the sun had gone down. “Fletcher said it was here, but I couldn’t hardly believe they were that well off.”

“Could be it’s only used for the desal plants, you know. Something’s gotta run it. I doubt they waste energy on things like lightbulbs. Don’t get your hopes up.”

“I won’t,” Lucy promised, but she couldn’t squash the flutter of excitement in her belly.

They walked through the afternoon, their spirits dropping as unpopulated buildings rose around them. Despite her promise, Lynn clicked the safety off on the rifle, and Lucy didn’t mention it. Their footfalls echoed one another as they walked alone, past a residential district with rusted-out cars sitting quietly in the driveways.

A new scent had found Lucy’s nose, tickling her nostrils and bringing her senses to a high pitch. “You smell that?”

“I think it’s the ocean.”

“The ocean,” Lucy said, taking a deep breath of the salty tang. “Yeah, I imagine it is.”

They moved on, the buildings growing closer together as they went. Lynn became antsy and they went off the highway, picking their way through parking lots with grass growing through ever-widening cracks in the pavement, until they hit the ocean. It rose to meet Lucy, the tide nibbling at her toes as she pulled off her shoes to feel it properly for the first time in her life. The vast blue expanse met the sky, the sun making a new red road on its undulating surface, one that led to the horizon.

“Lucy,” Lynn said quietly. “I’m sorry, little one. There’s no one here.”

Lynn didn’t turn. “So far, no, but I don’t think Fletcher would’ve led us wrong.”

“Me neither, but maybe something happened to them, maybe . . .”

“We can talk maybes all day long and still not know a thing,” Lucy said, toes curling in the wet sand. “I’m heading north. If we get to Oregon, we know something’s wrong.”

“All right then,” Lynn said, adjusting her pack. “Let’s go.”

“Not yet,” Lucy said, as the tide swelled over her feet again. “Not just yet.”

Lucy walked on, and Lynn followed. They’d been following the beach for miles when Lynn’s fingers dug into Lucy’s arm, nodding up ahead. Lucy pulled her gaze from the ocean to see the figure of a man on the beach. He spotted them seconds later and waved an arm in greeting.

“Well,” Lynn said under her breath. “I guess that’s how this is done.”

They walked toward him, cautiously leaning toward each other, their elbows rubbing with every step. Lynn kept her rifle on her back, and Lucy saw the man’s expression change when they were near enough for him to see the barrel rising above her shoulder.

“Hi there,” he said as they approached, the sparse gray hair on the crown of his head blowing in the evening breeze. “I thought you were Bridget and Taylor heading home from fishing.”

Lucy stood before him, her mouth feeling as if it were sewn shut. Behind her, she heard Lynn sink into the sand, her body giving out on her. The man looked between the two of them. “Well, who are you then?”

Lucy’s lips moved, her throat constricted, but no sounds came out. Witching was insignificant next to the ocean, her precious skill useless in this new world. She had nothing to offer in exchange for a life less normal. In the end, she said, “My name is Lucy, and I walked across the country to get here.”

“Well done, Lucy,” the man said, extending his hand. “I’m Dan.”

She shook it. “This is Lynn.” She nodded toward the ground, as if Lynn being there were completely normal.

“Hi, Lynn,” Dan said, nodding when she didn’t reach for his hand. “That’s a hell of a gun you’ve got there.”

“Uh-huh,” Lynn said.

“We’re supposed to tell you Fletcher sent us,” Lucy said. “I don’t know if that makes a difference or—”

“Fletcher?” Dan smacked his hands together. “How is the old bastard?”

“He’s alive,” Lucy said. “We met him in Nebraska. He said if we—”

Dan hands rested lightly on her shoulders, stopping her flow of words. “You prove your worth by your actions, Lucy. You can relax now. You’re here.” He put his other hand on Lynn’s shoulder. “You made it, girls.”

The water pulled at Lucy’s toes, dragging the sand out from under her feet and making her sink inch by inch into the wet, comforting muck. Weeks after their arrival she still couldn’t resist the sea, reveling in it every evening outside the small house she and Lynn had claimed for their own on the edge of town.

Even though there were hundreds of people here, no one was thirsty. The windmills powered the plant, which made the ocean water flowing into their homes drinkable. Solar panels meant electricity. On their first night in their new house, Lucy had found Lynn in the living room with a book in her hand and tears on her cheeks. “I can see,” she’d said in explanation. “First time in my life I’ve ever been able to see after the sun went down. This is how Mother lived once.”

Soft footsteps sounded in the sand and Lynn crouched beside Lucy, away from the tide.

“Have a seat,” Lucy said, gesturing to the sand.

Lynn shook her head. “I don’t feel like I ever get the sand off me, once I do.”

Lucy shrugged, watching the moon rise above the ocean to send a white path pointing toward her over the rippling water. “How can you not like it?”

Lynn sighed and sat down anyway, her face contorting with displeasure as her pants got wet. “I learned to hate it young, little one. When I was a kid I found a globe and showed it to Mother, thinking I’d found something that would save us yet, that we didn’t have to live the way we did. She told me it was all salt, and no relief in it—‘
Water, water everywhere and not a drop to drink
.’ I broke the damn thing and swore to never find comfort in anything too good to be true again.”

“But it is true, Lynn. And it’s different here. It’s good,” Lucy argued.

“You like it, that’s all I need to know to believe it’s a good thing.”

“Like it? Lynn, it’s more than liking it. You should come to the plant with me sometime. When Dan showed me how to monitor the salinity, I felt like . . . like I was doing something that mattered. He said they’ll teach me how to clean the membranes too, next time I come.”

“Which I imagine will be tomorrow,” Lynn said slyly.

Lucy went on, barely hearing Lynn. “Dan said he’ll have a spot for me to be there all regular like, with real duties and everything after Taylor’s baby comes. You should hear the sound the seawater makes when it’s pressured through the—”