Wanderers (2 page)

As Skar talked, Esther noticed something odd. Skar, like all variants, wore nothing but a short, sleeveless tunic. Other than a few bangles, wristwatches, and a necklace made of braided leather, her ornamentation consisted of the elaborate scars and designs etched on her skin with pigments pounded from rocks and rubbed into fresh cuts. But now, there was something different about her throat and upper arms. They were heavily daubed with what looked like dried and cracking patches of red clay.

“What's that?” Esther interrupted, reaching out.

But again Skar flinched, ducking away before Esther could touch her.

“It's nothing.” Then she changed the subject. “Here,” she said, nodding at the weapon Esther still held in her hand; “you need help with that. If you like, I can teach you how to shoot better.”

The girls spent the afternoon practicing how to aim, draw, and release the bow. For a target, they used a sodden and stained mattress they found in the gutter. It was soft enough not to blunt the tips of Esther's precious arrows, which they retrieved and wiped off after each use. Then Skar took her into the woods and taught her how to identify rabbit warrens and squirrel nests and opossum scat.

“If you're hunting something,” she explained, “it's usually better to lie in wait than to try chasing it down.”

By the time the sun was low in the winter sky, Skar had managed to shoot three quail and a rabbit. She took her time aiming the shiny black bow that was half as tall as she was, never wasting any of her arrows. After many failed attempts, Esther also managed to kill one squirrel, something that felt at the moment like an enormous achievement. Yet now, as she weighed the small body in her hands and imagined attempting to feed four people with it, she was filled with a feeling of utter hopelessness.

Skar must have thought the same thing, for without speaking, she handed over the two fattest birds. And while Esther normally would have refused such charity, she now bit her tongue and accepted them, nodding her thanks.

As the two girls said good-bye, Skar promised she would try to visit again soon. Yet despite her generous gift and warm words, the variant girl once more kept her distance, avoiding Esther's embrace. This made Esther wonder whether Skar, who she once thought incapable of lying, was telling the truth. Such conflicting thoughts filled Esther's mind as she watched Skar mount her bike and take off, pedaling powerfully until she disappeared from sight.

Esther was brooding about Skar when she sensed rather than heard someone approaching her from behind. Before she could whirl around, she felt a quick tug on the back of her hair, where it was the shortest and spikiest; and she broke into her first real laugh of the day.

“Hey!”

Caleb had pulled up next to her on his bicycle, smiling. He stopped so he could gather Esther into his arms for a kiss. Then she pulled away to look at him.

Even though they had been partnered for several months, it was astonishing how he still looked new to her, like she was seeing him for the first time. The hazel eyes, the dark, tousled hair. It was, she decided, a little like falling in love again each time she saw him, although she would never say so out aloud. Even so, she could not help but notice with a fresh pang his terrible gauntness, the shadows that hollowed his face and made the underlying bones protrude so painfully.

But he had already seen the game hanging from her belt and gave a low, admiring whistle. “You catch all those yourself?”

“Only the one,” Esther admitted, indicating the squirrel. “Skar came to visit and helped me with my shooting. Then she gave me these.”

Caleb nodded as he handled the birds. “She's a good friend. I just hope it don't get her into trouble at home.”

Esther didn't ask how Caleb's day of Gleaning had gone; she didn't need to. His backpack seemed almost as flat as it had been that morning. Still, he had had some luck; he had Gleaned a dusty box that read
DOMINO SUGAR
on its faded label.

Gleaning was what they used to do, what everyone did in Prin, in the old days. It entailed breaking into abandoned buildings and searching them for anything even remotely of value. You would bring whatever you found—old tools and clothing, as well as books, weapons, and strange objects of plastic and metal whose purpose no one even pretended to know anymore—to the Source in exchange for clean water and food. It was the only way they knew how to feed themselves and the only sustenance they ever had: packets and jars of dried beans, flour, coffee, honey, salt. But the Source had burned to the ground two months ago. Since then, the people of Prin had been forced to Glean to feed themselves.

Of course, it was pointless. There was little to be found anywhere and most of that—the rare can of vegetables, soup, or fish—had long since rotted to poison. Everything in Prin, every house and office building and store, had been picked clean months ago. But the habit of Gleaning proved hard for people to break.
It gave them the feeling,
Esther thought,
of doing something besides waiting for death.

When they reached home, the shattered building at the end of the main street called
STARBUCKS COFFEE
, Esther held the bicycle and waited. Caleb scaled the fire escape and then the gnarled tree in front, checking the squirrel traps he had set that morning. It was more ritual than anything; the traps were useless because there was never any food with which to bait them.

But at least for now, there would be fresh meat for dinner. If they were sparing in their portions, they might even save one of the quail to add to their precious stores of food. For there was no telling when and where their next meal would come from.

Caleb dropped back to the ground as Esther pushed open the front door, hanging crookedly on broken hinges. Upstairs, she could hear Caleb's son, Kai, crying; as always, the sound made her insides clench with anxiety. She could also hear the murmuring of their friend, Joseph, who was trying to soothe him. Joseph was an awkward soul with more good intentions than talent for nurturing. She could picture him holding Kai in his arms, rocking him while trying to get him to suck on his favorite toy, the ring made of clear rubber with tiny plastic fish bobbing inside. It was the only way any of them knew to distract the child from his hunger, even for a short while.

By the time they made it upstairs, Kai's cries had subsided to hiccups. Joseph, flustered, was pacing, the baby held close to his shoulder.

“Please,” Esther said. “Let me take him.”

Relieved, Joseph relinquished the child, and Esther took him in her arms. Kai was soft, warm, and surprisingly heavy.

“There,” she whispered into the baby's neck. “That's a good boy.”

But it was a mistake. The boy's eyelashes, long and dark and dappled with tears, fluttered open. He opened his mouth and despite Esther's best efforts, he began to wail once more, his face turning red.

How could anyone calm a hungry baby?
she wondered, stricken.

It seemed impossible.

It was so hot
.

Esther was bound, her arms and legs crushed close to her body, struggling to break free. Around her, the walls of her prison pulsated in a powerful rhythm. She could not breathe and was filled with panic, fighting for breath; she would suffocate from the heat.

She tried calling for help, but it was no good. When she shouted, her voice was inaudible, like the mewing of a kitten, and her words were sucked away from her.

The redness behind her eyes seemed to bloom into an obliterating brightness as Esther sensed the walls around her start to give. Her lungs exploding, she fought her way through the shimmering wall in front of her as she broke free.

And then she was safe. As she took in shuddering gasps of air, she was enveloped in arms that were warm and gentle. Far above her, she sensed a face gazing down at her own, a face that was both kind and strong.

Esther wanted to see who it was. She needed to see for herself, once and for all, the face of her rescuer.

Her mother.

But she could not make out her features.

Esther jolted upright. In the moonlight, Caleb lay next to her in bed, awake. He was propped up on one elbow, watching her.

“What were you dreaming about?” he said.

Already, the images of her dream were rushing away. “I think it was my mother,” Esther said. “I never knew her. But I guess nobody does.”

Caleb nodded and Esther realized too late that he might be thinking of his first partner, Miri. She had been murdered the year before when her son, Kai, was only an infant. But Caleb gestured for her to keep talking and, after a moment, she did.

“I wonder who she was.” Moonlight streamed in the curtainless window, casting shadows on the bed. “Just a girl, I reckon. Nobody special. I bet she wanted to take care of me. Protect me from bad stuff. Keep me fed. The only one who did that for me was my sister.”

At the mention of Sarah, Caleb spoke up. “You were lucky.”

Silence filled the darkness between them. Esther knew he was thinking about his older brother, Levi: ruler of the Source, provider of Prin, and his enemy. She had never learned what happened between the two boys on the day of the fire that destroyed the Source and killed Levi; Caleb never spoke of it. But it was clear it still haunted him.

She touched his cheek, cradling it in the warmth of her hand. It had been forever since they had last spoken like this, just the two of them. The apartment had become so crowded, it seemed, with so many things and people to look after.

“We'll take care of each other now,” Esther said.

He seemed to have the same thought, for they turned to each other at the same time. Caleb kissed her cheek, then her lips. She responded, her hand moving beneath the sheets, caressing him.

“I love you,” he whispered.

It had been so long, too long, since they had last touched each other; they both missed it too much to say. Esther clung to his shoulders, shifting to be beneath him. Caleb yanked the sheet from her, pulling her oversize T-shirt above her knees, and higher.

Then he stopped.

“What is it?” she whispered, her arms around his neck. But he was alert to something she did not understand.

Then Esther became aware of it, too.

It was smoke.

* * *

Joseph had thought the cats were just being friendly.

As he lay asleep, Stumpy had begun kneading him, digging her claws into his leg. Then Malawi stood on his chest and started to scream.

Groggy, he had tried to shoo away and silence them, to no avail. Then he attempted to ignore them, burying his face into his pillow.

This had been the first night Joseph had managed to get much sleep in Esther and Caleb's apartment. Following the destruction of his home, he'd found out that living with other people took getting used to: It was certainly more difficult than just existing alongside animals. His first nights on Esther and Caleb's lumpy living room couch had been miserable bouts of tossing and turning, as he thought longingly of his cluttered rooms in the deserted hotel, full of his books, clocks, homemade calendars, newspaper clippings, and, most precious of all, his safe solitude.

Naturally, he was grateful to Esther and Caleb for taking him in, along with his ten cats and the few books he had been able to save. Still, he mourned the loss of his old life.

Now, even as his breathing slowed and he began sinking into his first real dream in what felt like months, Joseph was dragged back to consciousness, almost literally, by Stumpy's insistent scratching and pummeling.

“Mahhh!” Malawi yowled, not giving up, either.

At last, Joseph sat up, exasperated, his hair standing on end as if awakened, too. Stumpy held on to his thigh, undeterred.

“
What is it!
” he exclaimed.

Then he smelled it. Something was burning.

His eyes already stinging, Joseph remained upright in bed for a few moments, stunned and immobile. Then he kicked off the covers, scattering his cats.

Moonlight revealed that smoke was billowing across the floor in dense waves. Caleb and Esther had already come in, Esther holding a lit candle as she carried the still-sleeping Kai. Caleb was going from room to room, looking for the fire. When he returned, his face was grim.

“It's downstairs,” he said.

Esther was at the window, opening it to the night air. In her arms, Kai had awoken and was beginning to whimper. Coughing, Joseph began shepherding his cats across the windowsill and onto the fire escape, but they needed little encouragement. Soon, everyone was outside on the rickety metal staircase, climbing down toward the sidewalk.

Caleb had already dropped to the ground and entered the front door. Once Esther was able to hand the baby to Joseph, she joined him. Inside, a small but smoky fire was burning in the back of their storefront, at the foot of the stairs. Large pieces of soot blew through the air.

Puzzled, Esther stood by Caleb's side. The fire was nothing more than damp paper and twigs, which explained all the smoke. As a result, it hadn't burned very hot and was in fact dying, unassisted, at their feet.

“Who would do this?” asked Esther.

Caleb shook his head, bewildered. Then there was a shout from outdoors.

On the sidewalk, Joseph was so agitated, he could barely get the words out. With Kai in his arms, he pointed at the open window above them and then down the street.

“A boy. Someone. He jumped down and ran!”

Understanding dawned on Caleb's face.

“He must've been hiding in the stairs,” he said. “When he set the fire, he figured we'd go out the window. That gave him time to go upstairs.”

“To do what?” Esther asked.

“Steal.”

Esther was uncomprehending. It made no sense that someone would go to so much trouble.

Caleb shrugged. “All he got was flour. And it's mostly rotted. There's nothing to do but go back to bed.”