Red Skies (The Tales of the Scavenger's Daughters) (20 page)

She felt her father’s arm slip around her shoulders. “
Nuer
, what is it? Why more tears? Is this not what you want to do?”

Mari looked up, ashamed that the dam had broken again. “That’s just it, Baba. I don’t know. I feel like it’s not worth it anymore. No matter what I choose to do, it’ll be wrong. I feel so tired. And used up—as if I have nothing left to offer anyone.”

Her mama set her bag on the sidewalk, then moved in to grab her hand. “Oh, Mari, don’t even think like that. This will pass, child. You are so overcome with grief that you can’t see anything clearly right now. Give it time.”

Mari didn’t see how time would change anything. Bolin was dead. She was broke. She’d lost everything.

Her baba reached up and wiped a tear that hung at her chin. The rough planes of his hands brought back a memory of him holding her as a child, when she’d cried her heart out after he’d told her that they would be her new family.
Her forever family
. But back then, her tears were of relief that her life of hardship would be behind her. No one ever told her that it could come back around again, this time as an adult.

“Listen to me, Mari. We all have a purpose. You just haven’t found yours yet. Think of the last few days as a lesson—one of many. You’ll also be connected to many others on your journey to find what fulfills you, but you’ll have to be patient. Be strong. And Mari—be watchful. You’ll find it. I promise.”

Mari considered what he had to say. She’d never known her baba to be wrong. He was a wise man, so maybe it was true, and she hadn’t yet found what it was she was meant to be. A few weeks or months back under their roof might be just what she needed.

“Mari!”

Mari whipped around.

It was Max, getting out of a taxi only feet from where theirs had let them off. He waved at her, then bent down and threw a few bills at the driver. Mari was confused. What was he doing there?

“Mama, Baba, I’ll meet you inside,” she said, waving them along. Her cheeks flamed, but she needed to say a real good-bye to Max, and she wanted it to be privately.

He jogged to catch up with her, then he stood there, smiling hesitantly at her.

“Are you going somewhere?” Mari asked.

He shook his head and the smile disappeared. “No, I—I—oh hell, this sounds so ridiculous. I didn’t want you to leave without a proper good-bye.”

Mari felt a weight lifted from her. It wasn’t like her sadness about Bolin had disappeared, but something about the fact that someone other than her family saw her as worthy, even for a moment, made her feel human again.

“
Xie xie
, Max. I hope you will find what you are searching for in China.” She wasn’t sure what else to say. It wasn’t as if they knew each other that well, but still, they’d shared something, even if she couldn’t define it and didn’t know where to go with it.

He shook his head sadly. “I don’t know if I ever—” He was abruptly cut off by the wailing of a little girl, a street child that suddenly appeared between them.

“
Bang wo, bang wo, da bizi
,” she pleaded, pulling on Max’s shirt.

He looked down, bewildered, then back up. “Mari? What’s this?”

“She’s a beggar—probably homeless. They’re thick here at the train station,” Mari said, already digging in her purse. It was clear the girl didn’t belong to anyone. Besides her stringy hair, her pants were much too short, and her soiled pink jacket was too ragged for even a poor village mother to allow their child to wear. She was alone, and it tore at Mari’s heartstrings. She didn’t have much, but she’d share what she could.

Max held his hand up. “No, let me, Mari. Poor kid.”

“She called you Big Nose,” Mari let out a little laugh, then watched as Max pulled his money clip from his pocket and pulled off a one hundred renminbi bill, then held it in front of the wailing girl. She was then shocked after the girl slapped it from his hand and attempted to pull him along behind her.

“
Bang wode jie jie
,” the girl stammered, and Mari tried to understand her.

“Your sister needs help?” she asked, trying to detach the little fingers from Max’s jacket. She knelt and picked up the bill that had fluttered to the ground, and quickly stuffed it in Max’s pocket.

The girl nodded, her eyes huge with fear. Mari thought she looked as if she were beyond panic and closing in on hysteria. “I think she’s telling the truth. Something’s very wrong.”

“What can we do?” Max asked, looking around for the sister, and running his hand through his hair and making it stand on end.

Mari turned, and though she saw other pitiful boys hanging around for handouts, she didn’t see another girl, other than the few who were attached to families. They’d have to follow. She turned the other way and saw that her baba and mama were still standing just outside the station doors, waiting for her. Her baba obviously hadn’t trusted her to be alone with the foreigner. He raised his eyebrows at her, too far away to hear what was going on but able to see that something was happening.

“Wait here, Max.
Deng yi xia
,” she told the girl to wait a moment, then picked up her bag and quickly ran, dragging her luggage until she reached her parents.

“Mama, Baba, something is really wrong with that little girl. She’s asking for help for her sister. I’m sorry—but I’ll only be a minute.”

Her baba reached out and took her luggage, setting it beside theirs, then nodded. “Go. We’ll wait.”

“Oh dear,” her mama said, squinting to get a closer look at the little girl.

Mari turned and ran back to where the girl stood, still pulling on Max to make him move. “
Hao le
, where is she?”

Mari was already out of breath, and from what the little girl was yelling at her, they weren’t even close yet. She and Max had followed her away from the station, across the parking lot, then down a dirt road that ran parallel with the tracks, leading further from the bright lights.

For a moment, she wondered if it was a ploy to get them away from the station, and she hoped the girl wasn’t that good of an actress. Street gangs were smart—and sending children as decoys wasn’t too unethical for them.

Her heart pounded in her chest, and her lungs felt as if they’d burst. How much farther? She remembered that she’d barely eaten anything in the days since Bolin’s death. She was weak, and she was slowing them down. A few steps ahead, the girl ran with Max, keeping a firm hold on his shirt, refusing to be separated from him.

“Wait,” Mari called out. They didn’t hear her, and the girl continued to lead them along the wide span of grass that fell between the tracks and thick trees.

“
Ta bing le
,” Mari heard her say, and she stepped up her pace, the threat of a sick child making her forget her own weakness.

The little girl stopped short when a shack no bigger than an outhouse came into view. Instantly they saw the heavy plume of black smoke billowing from it. It only took seconds to register, then the little girl’s mouth opened, and she let out a shrill cry of anguish.

“Noooo…” she wailed, then let go of Max’s shirt and took off, running for the engulfed structure. The girl was intent on reaching it, and Mari had no doubt she was going in when she got there.

“Oh no, I think her sister’s in there! Catch her, Max!”

Max looked back at her, his eyes wide with disbelief, then he took off after the little girl, scooping her up just before she reached the inferno. Mari let out a sigh of relief; the girl had been only seconds away from running through what once must have been the door.

Mari caught up to Max as he struggled to keep the girl in his arms. She kicked, screamed, and scratched like a cornered cat as Mari rushed to try to calm her.

“You can’t go in there.
Dui bu qi
—I’m sorry; I’m sorry,” she chanted, rubbing the girl’s hands as Max held her with both arms to stop her from stop thrashing. He held on, she had to give him credit. He was confused, yet he was following his instincts.

“An Ni, An Ni,” the girl wept, huge tears making tracks down her dirty red cheeks.

Max froze and looked at Mari. “What is she saying?”

The girl nodded, her sobs racking her small body as she pointed at the blaze. “An Ni,” she choked out again.

The name rang a bell with Mari, but then she realized it couldn’t be the same girl. Then she saw it also meant something to Max. For a moment, he looked dumbstruck. Then the blank look was replaced with one of determination.

“Hold her,” he shouted.

Mari almost dropped the girl when Max shoved her into her arms, then took off toward the shack. He was like a wild man, screaming the child’s name as if he knew her. He got to the door and kicked through a few boards that had fallen and lay blocking the entrance. She watched as he dropped to his knees and then disappeared into the black smoke.

She felt sick. Max was going to die in there.

And all because of her.

He’d never be there if it wasn’t for coming to say good-bye to her. She screamed for him to come out and just when she thought she couldn’t hold on any longer, the girl stopped thrashing in her arms, silent and waiting with her for Max to emerge.

Seconds ticked by, but they felt like hours. Finally, he fell out of the door, holding his mouth and hacking, bent over at the waist. “It’s too late. I can’t find her.”

The little girl started to sob again, and Max fell to the ground on his knees, holding his head in his hands.