Eden's Root (37 page)

Asher was intrigued. “So I’m guessing you won then?”

“She won really,” Sean admitted. “She was so good that the big kid actually shook my hand at the end, when he handed me back my ball. The kid goes, ‘I don’t know who she is to you man, but she’s a good player’.” Sean sighed. “It was the moment I fell completely in love with Maggie,” Sean murmured and shook his head. “Everybody does you know,” he said, peering sideways at Fi, concern on his face. Her eyes shone a bit with the initial warning of tears. “Just wait until you meet her,” he said to Asher. “You’ll see.” He and Fi exchanged one more glance and she nodded.

The constant glances between Fi and Sean had not escaped Asher’s notice, though he wondered why Sean seemed so concerned when he talked about Maggie. He couldn’t tell if Sean was concerned for Fi…or for Maggie? Regardless, their love for one another was apparent in every gesture and statement, as was their deep knowledge. It was the type of love that came from a lifetime of connection. It was the type of love that would lead a person to put herself at risk of being killed…Asher eyed Fi curiously.

Still, he thought, sometimes he felt like he saw something else there, in the way that Sean studied Fi when she wasn’t looking. Something well…un-brotherly. Not that he blamed him. How could you not study this intriguing little redhead, he wondered? Watching her small form striding beside him, her gaze and energy surging forward, he found her to be…rather fascinating. Sudden recognition clicked in his mind and he sighed. Oh, he realized, there are two good reasons why he hates me.

----------- Fi -----------

At sunset, they settled into a beautiful clearing in the forest to rest. They were still days from Home. As night fell their fire dwindled, leaving only a dim glow in the air. It was nice being far enough out to use a fire again, Fi thought, lying awake. The pain in her side made it difficult to sleep, not that she usually did anyway. A few feet away Sean lay snoring, his arm tucked beneath his head as a pillow.

Fi stared up at the patch of night sky visible above her in the clearing. There was no word to describe the beauty of the night in the new world, she thought. A few times her father had taken her on trips to get away from the lights of the City. Once she had even seen a little bit of the Milky Way. Now she lay dazzled by the brilliance above her as clear, winding wisps of galaxy blazed. Even orphaned satellites could be seen, tiny abandoned pinpoints drifting across the sky. It was difficult to balance the sensations of pleasure and pain. The Milky Way glowed against the ebony sky because the City’s light had been extinguished. Still, she couldn’t help feeling lifted by the beauty of all those millions of stars. Above her, a tiny streak of light coursed across the sky.

“Oh,” she breathed. “‘Shooting star…make a wish.” Though it felt childish, she made a wish as another tiny streak lit up the corner of the sky. Before it burned out, there was another and then another. As the shower intensified, her mind turned to the time of year. Of course, she realized. It was late April again. Watching the annual showers had been her favorite father-daughter activity. Her eyes filled up as her chest tightened. How she wished her father were still with her, with her family. Maggie had been sick for so long that Fi couldn’t remember the last time she felt like the child instead of the parent. The light show above her continued and several larger meteorites left streaks the size of pencil erasers. She sucked in her breath and then laughed, the sound soft as a whisper.

“That one is for you Papa,” she said as tears spilled over and ran down the side of her face. Asher stirred to her right. She could feel him roll toward her.

“Do you know much about meteor showers Fi?” The distraction was welcome as Fi took a deep shuddering breath and quelled her tears.

“Yes,” she replied, “I do.”

“Does this one have a name?”

“Yes, it does. This is the Lyrid shower. Papa and I used to watch this one every year, as best we could anyway. The sky didn’t used to be,” she paused, “so dark.” She was quiet again for a second, watching the streaks whirl past above her. “Papa would have loved to see it like this.”

“It’s nice that you used to watch the stars with your dad,” Asher reflected. “So you were close to him?” Fi wasn’t sure why Asher wanted to know about her or her mother or her father, but she figured they had to pass the time. Plus, she felt sort of happy talking about her father, telling someone else how cool he was. Seizing the opportunity, she sat up and turned toward Asher. She rearranged herself into her characteristic cross-legged position. He sat up and faced her, his face open and interested. For a moment his gaze made her uncomfortable and she turned away and stirred the fire pit. A few sparks flew and popped and she took a deep breath, brushing her hand through her hair. With her eyes cast toward the ground, she spoke.

“I was Daddy’s Little Girl, Asher…” she shook her head. “Daddy’s Little Girl.” Repeating it made it easier to say it aloud, she realized. “To tell you how great a dad he was…my sister Kiara was also Daddy’s Little Girl and of course, Maggie was Daddy’s Best Girl, and he had more than enough love to go around for all of us.” Asher dropped his gaze, embarrassed by the rawness of her loss.

“What happened to him, exactly?”

“Exactly?” She sighed. “Well today we’d say he died of the Sickness, but back then we actually still bothered giving it specific names. The name of his Sickness was aggressive pancreatic cancer. In other words, ‘Sorry, but you’re totally screwed,’” she choked. The memory of his thin, sickly frame, particularly his thin hands, flashed in her mind. He had always had such neat, orderly, almost pretty, hands and feet. That gnarled claw at the end, she thought, that wasn’t my Papa. She sucked in hard and pushed the feeling back down. Asher’s face was kind.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

Dammit, she thought as the tears burned a path down her cheeks. She wiped them away with the back of her hand and sniffed. Great, now she was all snotty. That’s pretty. Though why the hell I would care, I don’t know, she thought, irritated. She didn’t have to impress this guy. Still, his compassion touched her. She didn’t often get to be vulnerable anymore. It was kind of nice. Laughing off her tears, Fi shook her head.

“I actually meant to tell you happy things. There really were so many.” Memories flooded her mind, competing for her attention, and she smiled. “He would take me to the zoo, to the museums, to outdoor nature activities. Everything to do with nature and animals was right up my alley and he would take me and talk to me like I was an adult…like I was smart and was actually good company.” It was funny now, she thought, the way he took her seriously even when she was a little thing like Kiara.

She continued. “Once we got to do a ‘backstage tour’ at the elephant exhibit at the zoo. I got to touch elephants myself and stroke their trunks. It was so cool. They have these hairs that stick out of their trunks that feel just like the plastic wires in a hairbrush. It was crazy.” Asher’s face bore a warm smile as he listened. She paused.

“That seems like a million years ago,” her voice flattened as her eyes turned toward the ground, lost in thought about elephants. Then a new thought drifted into her mind and she half-snorted, the sound surprising Asher.

“Do you ever think about the zoo animals?” she mused. “I do sometimes. In the movies when the world blows up they always show the zoo animals roaming around. I almost expected to see polar bears in New York when we went there.” She trailed off, suddenly pensive. “I wonder if they starved,” she murmured. As a matter of fact, she did wonder what had happened to them all. Asher laughed and she shot him a confused look.

“After all you’ve been through you’re worried about the polar bears in the City.” He tilted his head, peering at her in the dim light. “You know, that compassion is actually what makes you a skilled fighter,” he began and Fi felt herself blush, embarrassed at the compliment. She ducked her head.

“I saw you,” he said, “you always parried rather than attacked, given the choice. I see that your strategy is to lock them up or wear them down,” he continued his analysis. “Always avoiding the violence, the kill.” He paused, and Fi bit her lip. “Yet you can kill if you must,” he nodded toward Sean, “to save your Family.” Fi felt uncomfortable, the critique made her feel shy and guilty at the same time. Asher inclined his head toward her in small bow. “I’m honored to have fought with you.” Fi was shocked.

“But you had to save me,” her voice rose in protest. “You had to save both of us!” He laughed.

“Well I’ve been training for this fight all my life,” he said, patting the sword lying beside him. “I’m assuming you have had less than a year.” Fi nodded, unsure exactly why she was telling Asher so much about herself.

“Besides,” he teased, “I’m pretty sure you’d have had Sid’s number even if I hadn’t come along, am I right?” He held his right hand up for a high-five and she grudgingly reached her hand out and slapped his.

“Oh yeah,” he said and Fi started to laugh out loud and quickly covered her mouth with her hand. She glanced over at Sean, but he was still snoring. “Seriously,” Asher whispered, “You
are
pretty badass. It’s a good thing you’re little or I would be afraid of you.” She blushed again, feeling pleased and confused at the same time. Why was she blushing every five minutes? Fi bowed her own head.

“Thank you, I appreciate it.”

“You know,” Asher said, his voice growing thoughtful. “It’s really cool that you were close to your dad.” A sad expression crossed his face and Fi felt her heart flutter in echo. Where was Asher’s father? She wasn’t sure exactly how old he was but he couldn’t be much older than her. Why didn’t he have any family? She tilted her head to listen.

----------- Asher -----------

“In some ways my dad and I were close and in some ways we were world’s apart,” he began. His heart tugged with the knowledge that he hadn’t told a single living soul a thing about his parents since the Famine. He picked at some pebbles on the ground while he spoke. “My father was a very accomplished instructor of Tai Chi, which is why I’m trained in fighting. I started training as soon as I was old enough to stand, just about.”

Wondering if Fi was bored with his story, he raised his eyes and was startled for a moment by her face. The dim firelight glowed in her dark eyes, their intense gaze locked on his. Her hair fell around her face and shoulders in a cascade. As his eyes searched her face, she nodded and bit her lip. Jesus, he thought, she thinks I’m pausing because I need encouragement. He sucked in his breath and looked down again, breaking her gaze. Well, he thought, maybe I do. With his gaze cast downward, he continued.

“My grandfather was a very accomplished Master instructor, sixth Duan,” he said with pride. “My father was his star pupil and he ended up marrying his Master’s daughter, so it wasn’t like I was going to have a choice about this,” he gestured to his sword. “When I was young I loved it. The training, I mean. I thought my dad was so tough and I wanted to be just like him. But when I got to be fourteen, fifteen…about your age,” he said and Fi choked a little and then cleared her throat.

He stopped. Stupid, he thought. That sounds condescending.

“I’m sorry,” he smiled. “I don’t mean to sound like an old man…I’m only nineteen,” he explained, “but like you said, it seems like a million years ago.” She nodded and smiled and his heart stuttered, confusing him for a moment. He shook his head and raced ahead.

“So I always trained with my dad, for hours a day, and for years of my life. It was intense. Once I started to get sick of it, I resented him. I missed out on things my friends were doing and I couldn’t see the point. Who the hell had to fight like this anymore? I tried to explain. I tried to rebel. I tried to shame him even, with my antics, but he was relentless. Tai Chi was not about the fight,” he would say over and over, “it was about the mindset, the discipline, the commitment.”

Asher paused, looking pensive. “Only now do I truly understand what he was trying to teach me.” He met her eyes and then dropped them, feeling exposed. “I just wish I would’ve been able to tell him how much I loved and appreciated him before all this happened,” he finished. His fingers couldn’t seem to stop picking at pebbles. Rolling them in his fingertips seemed like a meditation…a distraction from his heavy heart. How he wished he could see his parents one more time. He could apologize to his father and wrap his arms around his mother and listen to her whoop as he twirled her around. He dropped his pebbles with a sigh.

And then Fi did an unexpected thing. She scooted over close to him and gestured for him to turn his back. Confused, he smiled and then turned. She turned away as well and he felt her sit with her back leaned to his. It was an odd, he mused, how simultaneously private and intimate the arrangement felt. The feeling of her small back pressing into his was reassuring and occasional stray curls brushed against his neck and shoulders, each touch light and soft. He could feel the shallow breaths she took to avoid hurting her sore ribs. Her closeness was comforting.

----------- Fi -----------

Fi’s head whirled in confusion as she wondered how she’d ended up back-to-back with Asher. Why did I do this? What on Earth was I thinking? Though she burned with embarrassment at her impulsiveness, she tried to sound calm.

“Where is your father now?” she asked, her quiet voice floating away into the dark night air.

“I don’t know,” Asher’s voice was strained. “I was in New York because I was a freshman studying journalism at Columbia. I’m actually from Illinois, from the suburbs outside Chicago. When the soldiers surrounded the City, the phones and Internet jammed up and I wasn’t able to reach them.” His voice grew strangled and Fi felt a lump in her own throat. She reached backward toward his right hand. She closed her eyes and stretched her pinky finger out to touch him. His back stiffened and she pulled her hand away.

“Sorry!” she said through her teeth. So stupid! She thought to herself. Why did you do that? Why would he want to hold your hand? You’re just sharing stories. Suddenly she felt his hand reach back and grab hers. His grip was tight at first and then it softened and her heart began to race. At first it felt like she would never breathe again, and then the breath came too quickly.