Wanderers (6 page)

“Don't,” said Esther.

She took the variant girl by the wrist. At her touch, gentle as it was, Skar winced, her face contorted in pain. As she let go, Esther realized with a sick feeling why her old friend had been avoiding her embrace all these times.

Skar gave up trying to cover herself. Instead, she drew her knees up to her chin and buried her face in her hands.

“Please don't look at me,” she whispered. Her voice was muffled.

Esther crouched by Skar. “You can talk to me,” she said.

Skar wouldn't take her hands from her face. “Only if you look away,” she said so quietly, Esther could barely hear the words.

Esther turned and stared across the spring to the ruins of the old hotel behind them. Then she listened as her friend began to speak.

It was not easy for Skar, being partnered. She had not known what her responsibilities were, for no one had ever explained them to her. Like all variants, Skar had been born with qualities of both sexes and chose her gender when she turned ten. A circle tattooed on her upper arm announced her decision. Yet she did not realize that being a girl would mean changing her behavior. For it soon became clear what was expected of her.

It started shortly after their partnering ceremony. Tarq had been gone all day, with no word of where he was or when he was returning. Skar, who had caught and cooked a rabbit for their dinner, ate half of it by herself and went to bed alone. But she was awoken when he pulled her out of bed, striking her across the back. She was not a good partner. She had not kept the food hot, had not waited for him before he returned, and had not cleaned their home sufficiently. Skar apologized; she had not known, and said she would try harder in the future.

But that was only the beginning, for it seemed there was nothing she could do properly. She could not hunt enough to fill the larder; she was too silly and undignified, like a little girl; she was not sufficiently respectful in his presence. As his partner, she was forbidden to socialize with others; this included her brother. She was not even allowed to mention Esther's name in his presence.

“So you see, it's all my fault,” Skar said, her voice almost inaudible. “He gets impatient with me, but it is only because I am such a poor partner.” She laughed, but there was no mirth in the sound. “I'm sure this is common with silly girls everywhere.”

The whole time, Esther had said nothing. Now she spoke, anger flashing in her dark eyes.

“It's not,” she said. “Being partners doesn't mean only one person doing all the work and the other making all the rules. It means the two of you are there to help each other. As equals.”

“But what if you make a mistake?”

“Then you apologize. But everyone makes mistakes.”

Skar shook her head. “And Caleb has never punished you?”

Esther blinked. The idea of Caleb lifting a hand to hurt her was something she could not even imagine. “No,” she said, “never. In fact, he'd never hurt anyone. At least, not anymore,” she added.

“Maybe you're lucky, then.”

“It's not a question of luck. It's just not right, what he's doing to you. He's your
partner.
”

She turned to face to Skar and was struck by the utter hopelessness in her friend's face.

“Yes,” Skar replied in a low monotone. “We are partners. We made a vow.” She held out her arm with its partnering scar, which wound its ornate way past the bruises and welts. “So you see, there is nothing I can do.”

Esther took both of her hands in hers.

“Yes there is,” she said. “You can come with us. They say in Mundreel there's plenty, enough for everybody. You can join us.”

For a moment, Skar looked undecided. Then her brow clouded and frowning, she shook her head once.

“No,” she said. “I just have to try harder, that's all. If I do, Tarq will not hurt me again. I
know
he won't. He loves me.”

“But—” Esther started to say before her friend cut her off.

“I shouldn't have told you,” she said. “I knew you wouldn't understand.” Then abruptly, she stood.

“Skar—” said Esther, scrambling to stop her. But Skar had already unfastened the wagon from her bicycle and had one foot on the pedal.

“Farewell, Esther,” she said. Once again, she had resumed her mask, her face expressionless and detached. “Safe travels. And I hope you think of me sometime.”

And with that, she took off down the road and disappeared.

By the time Esther finished bringing all the water, Caleb was hitching bicycles, two across, to their crude wagon. Nearby, Kai played by himself in the shade of an oak; a cloth harness kept him loosely tethered.

As she unloaded the water, Esther didn't have the heart to mention Skar. Instead, she handed the jugs up to Caleb in silence and he placed them in rows, counting under his breath. When they were finished, the two of them unfolded a heavy plastic tarp and dragged it over all of their belongings. The threat of an unexpected shower was constant, and they couldn't risk rainwater contaminating their supplies.

Caleb secured the tarp with elastic cords. Then the job was done.

Esther looked around. She saw Eli, Rhea, Rafe, Silas, and others familiar to her, all getting ready to go. Yet someone was missing.

“Where's Joseph?” Esther asked. No one knew, and for a moment she felt a flicker of panic.

Then she heard the mewing of a cat.

She followed the sound until she reached the back of another wagon, covered by a drawn tarp. Behind it, her friend huddled amid a welter of clothing, books, and supplies. He carried a green nylon pet carrier which held the tabby he called Stumpy, the only one of his cats left after the earthquake. He was clutching a ticking desk clock and a tattered oversize book called
Atlas.

“I hope this is all right,” he said in humble tones. “That I'm here, I mean. I can't ride a bicycle. And being out in the open makes me feel . . .” His hands fluttered in agitation.

Esther just stared at him, feeling her usual blend of exasperation and affection. She knew that others were looking at Joseph, too, and not as charitably; they were probably wondering why he got special treatment.

“
I'll
pull him,” she announced, closing the subject. She had a quick word with the owner of the wagon, who was happy to trade places with her.

Astride his own vehicle at the head of the line, Caleb was waiting. He looked serious, and yet his eyes were smiling. Then he turned in his seat and glanced at Rafe, who nodded. He gave a piercing whistle that echoed down the abandoned streets of Prin.

And with that, the journey began.

* * *

The afternoon sun was shining brightly. It revealed what looked like a trail of ants, working its way down the thin, gray line that once had been the interstate highway. Only these weren't insects but a caravan of people.

Standing atop a crumbling mountainside home miles away, someone was watching them.

It was Skar. She held a pair of binoculars to her face, but she did so gingerly. Her nose was broken and her left eye swollen nearly shut, the skin a weird combination of dark purple, green, and yellow. Her fingers weren't working properly and to even hold the binoculars took great effort.

When she had returned from Prin that morning, Tarq had been waiting for her. She was surprised to see him, but she did not lie to him; it did not occur to her to do so. As she spoke, he listened, expressionless, hunched forward as he stared at the ground.

“So you just decided to visit Esther?” His voice was like his face, stony and without emotion. “Without asking me?”

Skar opened her hands in appeal. “She is my oldest friend, Tarq. And she is leaving for a place called Mundreel. I will never see her again.”

She didn't even see his fist lash out.

The world exploded in a burst of light and shocking pain and the faraway sound of bones cracking. As she fell to the ground, Skar curled into a tight ball, her arms uselessly wrapped around her head. But it was no good; Tarq was already raining blows and kicks on her. It seemed to last an eternity, and even though she grew numb to the pain, throughout it all was her disbelief, repeating again and again like a voice in her head.

Why? Why was he doing this to her? What had she done wrong?

Finally, he stopped. Panting, he stumbled to their doorway, where he loomed for a moment, framed by sunlight.

“If you disobey me again,” the voice from the silhouette said, “I will kill you.”

Then he was gone.

Now, alone in her hiding place, Skar shivered. Her body hurt all over. She had trouble even drawing breath; navigating her way from the variant camp, slowly, on bicycle, had taken all of what little strength she had. Yet even greater was the shock of realization.

Esther was right.

It wasn't her fault.

Skar was filled her with an emotion she had rarely felt before: anger. She had done nothing wrong, nothing that could possibly merit her partner's wrath. Understanding that simple truth made her decision easy.

The only thing that nagged at her were Tarq's last words.
If you disobey me again, I will kill you.

Skar shuddered, and for a moment she hesitated.

Then, unexpectedly, a new and clear voice said something else in her ear, something that was so obvious, she was surprised she hadn't thought of it before.

He would have to find her first.

She would go to her friends, Esther and Caleb, and join them on their journey. Although she had no goods or water to bring with her, only the few items she had snatched up when she left her home, she was a good hunter and knew she could earn her keep.

It was torture to remount her bicycle, much less navigate through the dense and tangled forest. Yet once she reached the highway, Skar forced herself to ignore the pain and focused instead on riding as swiftly as she could. She didn't think Tarq was following her; in fact, she doubted he would even notice she was gone until evening.

They had been on the highway a few hours before Esther saw the figure.

It rode full bore down from the mountains toward the group of travelers. Many slowed or came to a halt, anticipating trouble. Yet Esther noticed there was something shaky about the intruder's control of the bike.

At last, at the bottom, it came to a stop, kicking up dust.

It was Skar.

Esther saw that Skar kept her distance. Even though she had dismounted, she stayed where she was, holding herself with dignity. Skar did not know, after all, if she would be welcomed; and Esther knew she was not one to beg.

“Esther,” Skar said.

Seeing her friend, Esther was already smiling so hard her cheeks ached. But as she left her bike and rushed forward, she gave a low gasp and her hand flew to her mouth. She could see what Tarq had done to her.

Blushing, Skar made a move to hide her broken nose, the dried blood, and fresh bruises. Then she seemed to think better of it and lifted her head high.

Esther approached her and took her by the hand.

“Welcome home,” was all she said.

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

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

T
HOUGH
R
AFE WAS THE OFFICIAL LEADER
, C
ALEB RODE ALONGSIDE THE
caravan, making sure that no one had fallen behind or was in need of help. He was on one of the dozen or so free bicycles, untethered to any vehicle.

Esther, on her wagon-mounted bicycle, was talking with Skar, who walked beside her. She had tried to insist that her friend ride with Joseph, and Skar had been just as adamant in refusing. Yet each step, Caleb knew, cost the variant girl; he was astonished and impressed by her toughness.

Caleb had wondered how the others would respond to having a variant travel with them. Once they took note her bow and arrow, most of the townspeople welcomed her, if grudgingly; variants were famed as hunters. Even Rafe was open to the idea.

“As long as she earns her keep,” he said. “Maybe she can even teach some of the others how to hunt.”

As he approached Rafe now, Caleb saw that he was bicycling with difficulty. Part of the problem was that he was attempting to study something he had propped on his handlebars. Caleb recognized the large, colored pages filled with lines as a book of maps, something Rafe had likely stolen from Joseph.

Rafe had decked out his vehicle in grand style. He had ignored Caleb's instructions to pack lightly and instead piled his wagon high with everything he had been able to salvage: food, clothes, furniture. He had a canopy over his bicycle, to shield it from the sun. He even enlisted another boy to walk behind and make sure the wagon didn't tip.

“Be careful it stays steady now!” Rafe yelled behind him. “And watch for bumps!”

Caleb gazed at Rafe's luxuries. “Sure you got enough?” he asked dryly.

Rafe considered the question. “I hope so!” he called. “Maybe I missed a few things!”

“Want me to go and check if you left anything?”

“That's awful nice of you!” Rafe yelled. “But I really don't—”

But Caleb had already raced on.

He passed others, anonymous in their hooded robes and sunglasses. They bore down on their pedals, their billowing sheets belted at the legs so as not to get caught in the gears. Many more trudged behind, some helping push the heavy carts. For the most part, no one spoke, although he could hear one voice, shrill and incessant, long before he caught sight of the speaker. It was Rhea. She was walking with Silas and talking nonstop.

Although she had spoken against him at the meeting, Caleb felt sorry for the older girl. Like many of the others, she had lost a loved one in the earthquake; but unlike them, she still wore her partnering cloth around her wrist. With life so short, mourning was a luxury no one could afford; to continue wearing the symbol of your relationship even a few days after your partner's death was considered self-indulgent. Yet having lost his first partner the year before, Caleb could sympathize. Rhea was chatting animatedly about herself to the younger boy, who didn't appear to be listening.