Lotus and Thorn (10 page)

The beeph was flavorful and tender, and much richer than usual. “Best meal I’ve had in almost two years.” I thought of the tamale I’d eaten at the Festival and took another big bite.

“It’s rabbit, trapped out here in Tierra Muerta.”

I spit out the half-chewed food and the pup snatched it off the ground—gulping it down. The Indignos around the fire laughed.

“Don’t worry.” Jaesun speared a bite from my plate. “We’ve been eating them for months. Not a single soul here has gotten sick.”

“It’s not true, then? The animals aren’t infected?”

“Not that we’ve seen,” Jaesun said.

“That means . . .”

“Here it comes.” Alejo grinned. “She’s got it.”

“That means that we don’t need the Curadores’ chiken,” I said.

“Take it further,” Lotus said, nodding.

“You said you found working water pipes?”

“Yep,” said Alejo. “And you saw the crops.”

“Then . . . maybe . . .”

“Maybe we don’t need the Curadores for anything.” Lotus grinned.

The idea felt almost blasphemous. Trading with the Dome had been our way of life for so long. Without the Curadores, the Citizens wouldn’t survive long enough to find redemption.

But what if we didn’t
need
redemption?

THAT NIGHT,
I slept next to Lotus in one of the tarp-covered structures. Lotus, Tasch, and I had always shared a room. So lying there in the dark, listening to the rhythm of Lotus’s breath, to her getting settled in her sleeping bag, was a little like being home again.

But something kept needling at my thoughts. “What did Alejo mean about Tasch? About her death not being right?” I hated to bring it up. Hated to hurt Lotus more, but I needed to know. Lotus stayed silent, but I knew she wasn’t asleep—her thoughts were loud in the little room. “Tell me.”

“When Tasch got sick . . .” Lotus was so quiet I could barely hear her. “Her symptoms were strange.”

“Strange?”

“Not at first. She came back from the Reclamation Fields with her eyes bloodshot and then the fever came on, like it always does. But it was too fast.” The awfulness of that day was heavy in her words. “Like she was being burned from the inside out. One moment, she was begging us to help her and the next”—Lotus’s voice went cold—“she was just gone. There wasn’t even any blood.”

“Did anyone else get sick?” I thought of Suji’s symptoms
coming on fast like that. But it’d been different in my crew. There had been blood. More than I wanted to remember.

“Fifty people in our building alone . . . in barely more than a day. They all died. All went the same way. And then the sickness disappeared again as quick as it came. It wasn’t like any epidemic I’d ever seen. It was . . .” She hesitated, then repeated Alejo’s word: “Wrong.”

“You think Red Death is changing?” I thought about what Edison had said about evolution. About things adapting.

“Maybe. Or maybe someone’s changing it.”

I wasn’t exactly sure what Lotus was getting at, but I’d seen the look she and Alejo had shared when he’d brought it up—the conversation they’d had without ever speaking. There was more to this than she was saying. But I’d learned not to press Lotus, not if I wanted answers.

Instead, I let her ask her own questions. “What was it like out there?”

I knew what she meant. Technically, this camp was in Tierra Muerta, but it was nothing like the rest of the wasteland.

“It was dangerous.” I thought of Suji’s blood dripping from my knife. My silenced crew, dead and burnt to ash. “It was terrible.”

“I missed you.” Lotus rolled over and laid her head on my shoulder.

“Me too.” And the feeling of my sister next to me made me feel more whole and more broken at the same time. Searching for comfort, I said, “Once upon a time . . . there were three beautiful sisters—”

“No.” Lotus’s voice was tight. “Not without Tasch.”

I tucked my arm around her. “You’re right. Not without Tasch.”

Lotus’s head grew heavy on my shoulder. I closed my eyes too, but sleep left me stranded. Everything from today—the Indignos, Edison, Tasch’s death, the radio—ran around in my brain, arranging and rearranging themselves. Trying to find a shape that made sense. I’d been tossing for an hour when I heard scratching noises near my sleeping bag.

My eyes flew open to see the dog staring back at me. I held still, not daring to move in case she turned on me. But the pup just sniffed my blankets and flopped down on Lotus’s and my legs. As her warm body heated my feet, sleep called to me and I finally answered.

• • •

The pup was gone when I woke up. I climbed out of my sleeping bag, feeling restless and exhausted at the same time. It was still early and only a few other people were up. I found an empty patch of sand by the fire and started running through fighting maneuvers by myself.

I wasn’t alone for long. I did a spin kick and found it parried by Jaesun. He threw a punch and I blocked it. Then he pulled two pairs of fighting sticks out of his belt and tossed me a set. “Let’s see if you’re your father’s daughter. Your dad was always bragging about your extra fingers. Your secret weapon, the way he told it.”

With the Pleiades’ fighting elite as the camp’s guards, it didn’t surprise me that Jaesun had known my father as well. There was a challenge in Jaesun’s words, but it seemed more curious than malicious. I made a show of getting a feel for the sticks—weighing them in my hands—all the while sizing him up. Tall for Pleiades. Big arms.

But I was short—so
everyone
I fought was bigger than me.

As we circled each other, I came awake. A quiet alertness flowed
through my muscles as I studied the way Jaesun moved. And the way he watched. He was older, slower, still stiff from the injury I’d given him a few days earlier. Grey tufts marked his eyebrows, and beneath them were cautious eyes. This was someone who’d experienced pain and assumed life had plenty more of it to give him.

I was used to using my compact body and my speed as my primary weapons, and that would work well here too. That, and the fact that everyone underestimated me.

Jaesun swung out, his impassive face giving nothing away. I dodged his stick, then came in with a blow to his stomach with my own. I skittered out of his reach—the satisfaction of a good hit still ringing through my muscles. His beard camouflaged his twitch of a smile, but I still caught it as we circled each other again.

My goal was to make as little contact as possible. Only strategic strikes. If Jaesun got a grip on me, the fight would be over. So it became a game of cat and mouse. A dance almost. The kind I loved.

Jaesun feinted to the right, then moved in left, kicking up. I dodged again, but this time his kick landed, knocking the wind out of me. “Careful, little mouse.”

But even as Jaesun goaded me, I was riding the kick’s momentum—using it to spin out so I ended up behind Jaesun. Then, with my stick, I thwacked the back of his supporting leg, buckling it.

“Don’t
have
to be careful when I have such a lazy—”

I don’t know how, but Jaesun managed to catch himself. Just barely. And he rammed his elbow back into my ribs.

Just before I went down gasping, I thrust my stick into his back—knocking him off-kilter again. Then he was belly down and I was on top, holding his face to the sand.

Muffled laughter came from him and I rolled off, catching my breath—letting my own smile out.

“Well,” he said, “that was fast. I can’t say if it’s your extra fingers or not. But you certainly got
something
going for you. We’re lucky you and your sister are on our side.”

Our side.
Was I?

Still shaking the sand out of our pant legs and hair, we joined the group over at the bonfire. The smell of cooking food woke up my stomach too.

“I see you’ve been making friends.” Lotus wiped a smudge of blue dust off my face before handing me a steaming cup of something. I took a sip from the mug and spit it out. “What
is
that?”

A smile quivered at the edge of Lotus’s mouth. “Nettle tea. It’s not so bad once you get used to it.”

I took another sip. “Mmmm . . . Dear sister, you’re right. A little like chewing grass.” I tried to sound grumpy, but I broke. That made Lotus crack too and her laugh sounded like the most right thing in the world.

I’d barely shoved a corn cake in my mouth when Lotus said, “Time to get going.”

“But . . .” And I looked longingly at the fire and the hot griddle lined with baking golden cakes.

“Cakes or wires, your choice.” But she knew my curiosity would win out.

“Fine.” I compromised, grabbing a still-doughy cake off the griddle, almost burning my fingers. Then I followed her through the layered ruins—making our way down winding, broken cement steps.

So far, the Indignos were only using the top level of the ruins
for their camp and the bottom for fields. But in between was a sort of tiered city. Each level had a long row of houses facing the nearby mountains. The houses all shared walls with each other, so they were a little like our apartments in Pleiades.

“Why haven’t you opened these up? The Indignos could be living here.” I peered into the dim spaces; plenty of room for a family.

“That’s the hope. But we’ve barely had time to get a sense of what’s down here. Or whether it’s stable enough. Right now, the top camp has electricity and water and latrines. But if we can get this up and running, the place would start to feel like a real home.” She didn’t ask the question, but I heard it anyway.

I gazed around at the crumbling buildings. What treasures were hidden inside them? What possibilities? What if we actually
used
the things we’ve been purging all these years?

“You were born to do this, Leica! You were always the practical one—logistics and plans. Even out in the Reclamation Fields, you were clever about this stuff.”

And I knew she was sweet-talking me. But the thing was, she was right. I could do it. Not alone, of course. But I could do this. “Okay. We’re gonna need a light and some paper to map this place out with. A pickax, pliers—”

“You’ll find everything you need in the workshop. And if not, you’ll find something else that can do the job.” She led me down more stairs, past a cornfield and another field that was only dirt—either just planted or about to be—and finally to a wide shed.

Inside, lights blinked and flashed everywhere. Wires and cables coiled across the dirt floor like snakes. The whine of live circuits sang deep in my bones. The sensation was heady and disorienting at the same time.

“What
is
all this?”

“It’s not nearly as impressive as it looks.” Alejo ducked out from behind a jumble of machinery. He flashed Lotus a smile and I could see why she liked him. A couple of years had turned his injured stubbornness into a kind of roguish strength. “Mostly it’s just bits and pieces we’ve salvaged and cobbled together.”

“What for?” I left the sunlight behind, walking deeper into the flickering, whirring rhapsody. I’d messed with some of this stuff—computer monitors and beeping toys—while I was scouting. But there were new things here too. Things I’d never seen before.

“Well, some of it runs the lighting for the camp.” Lotus pointed to nest of power cords running from a large, humming control box. There must have been fifty circuit breakers inside—handmade labels haphazardly stuck next to switches. “We’re experimenting with other stuff . . . trying to figure out what it does. And then there’s a whole bunch of salvage we’re just breaking down for parts.”

I had a horrible thought—my eyes scanning the piles of scrap electronics for the radio. “And the stuff from the shuttle?”

“Over there. We haven’t even had a chance to see what we’ve got. Wanna do the honors?”

I nodded, kneeling by the slideboard, which hadn’t even been unloaded, and started sorting through the parts. It was slow going. I picked out pieces I remembered from the shuttle’s dashboard—knobs and buttons, the radio’s microphone—but they were mixed in with all the other salvage.

“What’s so special about this thing?” Lotus grabbed the transmitter, turning the black box in her hand, as she and Alejo crouched next to me on the dirt floor.

All the fairy tales Lotus and Tasch and I had made up about Earth
came flooding back to me. What would Lotus think about a real one? I took a deep breath, and told her about the voice on the radio.

Lotus looked skeptical at first, then stunned. But Alejo was shaking his head.

“Earth.” The word came out hushed, but he didn’t seem happy about it.

I spotted another knob and fished it out. “I thought if we could get the radio working—”

“No.” Alejo sounded angry.

Lotus wasn’t exactly overflowing with enthusiasm either. “But we can’t exactly ignore it, can we? If Earth
is
out there, we can’t just pretend we never found this.”

“Why not?” Alejo said.

Their reactions confused me. “But this is what all the Rememberings talk about.”

“Exactly. It’s
exactly
like one of Sarika’s stories. And people like us”—Alejo spread his hands out, including the whole camp in his assessment—“never fare too well in those, do we?” He got to his feet. “If you’ll excuse me, ladies, I have some burned-out bulbs to change.” He gave us a faux bow, making light, but his face was deep in thought as he left.

“And you?” I half expected Lotus to follow him.

But Lotus just frowned as she started sorting through the pile—laying out more components on the dirt. “I’ll help. But mostly ’cause I can’t get Mom’s voice out of my head.” Then she gave a sad smile. “She’d love this, you know?”

It was true, and it made me smile too. Lotus and I weren’t the enthusiastic team I’d anticipated, but it didn’t matter.

“Okay, then. We’ll have to figure out what was attached to
what and splice them all back together. Find out how rough the trip was on them. And we’ll obviously need a power source.”

The equipment was mostly intact, but the storm had done some damage. The day slipped away as we cleaned off exposed wires and corroded electrical contacts, clearing sand out of everything as we went. And it was so easy between us, chatting one minute, falling silent when one of us was concentrating, passing tools back and forth without asking. It was a way of being I’d forgotten even existed.

Once everything looked right, we wired and rewired the different components together, trying to get the right combination. I had no idea if the descrambler Edison had talked about was something inside the radio itself or a different piece altogether. Or what it even looked like. So we had to try everything.

It was so good being with Lotus again. After our parents died and Marisol left, my sisters and I had gone to work for Sarika—cooking up endless and varied batches of mezcal and pulque. Lotus had a keen mind for experimentation and I was good at tracking what we’d already tried and with what results. But Tasch was the one who always saw the big picture—and the space where she should’ve been grew more pronounced the further we got.

Finally, we got the radio’s power lights to come on, but nothing came out of the speakers. Then, after a little tweaking, we managed to get weak static. But no matter what I did, I couldn’t get a better signal.

“Any ideas?” I leaned back on my elbows. The dirt under me was cool in the stuffy workshop.

“Well, I know what Tasch would say.” Lotus looked at me and together we recited, “Fresh air is food for the brain!”