Wasteland (Wasteland - Trilogy) (18 page)

Esther stared at it, uncomprehending.

Skar was smiling. “I have a partner,” she said. Then she giggled, covering her eyes and mouth with both hands as a deep blush stole over her face.

Esther was speechless.

She was not sure why she was so stunned. After all, she and Skar were both fifteen, more than old enough to be partnered. Yet in all the years they had been friends, Skar had always behaved like the younger of the two. She had always looked up to Esther and in many ways, was like a little girl, one who giggled and occasionally played with a castoff doll and still sucked her fingers when she slept.

“It happened so quickly. I was not expecting him to ask,” said Skar. “I meant to tell you when I saw you. But I was too surprised when you showed up at my home. And you were so angry, and then you left so fast. You didn’t give me a chance.”

Esther nodded slowly. This was true, she realized.

Now she swallowed hard. “Your partner,” she muttered. “Does this mean you have to ask him for his permission?”

Skar shook her head. “Not for his permission. But his blessing.”

Esther allowed Skar to take her by the hand and to lead her deeper into the woods. Soon, they reached a small clearing; the moon had come out and by its light, Esther could make out a nearby stream.

Skar turned to her. “Please try to understand. If it was only my decision, you know I would do anything you ask,” she said, giving Esther’s hand a final squeeze. “But now, I have someone else I must consult.” Then she put her hand to her lips and gave a warbling cry, like a dove.

There was a long silence as the two girls waited. Finally, a solitary variant emerged from the forest.

Skar let go of her friend’s hand and went forward to meet him. The two conversed in faint yet urgent whispers. Esther could not make out what they were saying, although it appeared to be an argument. But soon, Skar seized her partner by the hand and tugged on it to bring him close.

“This is Esther,” Skar said. She could not hide the anxiety that creased her brow. “And this is Tarq.”

The variant boy stared at Esther with open hostility. Although he was the same height as Skar, he was husky and outweighed her by a few pounds. In addition to the triangle he wore on his bicep, his dark skin was covered with other vivid tattoos and scars: stars, moons, the depiction of a hunt. His short tunic was cinched with a leather belt studded with metal, and he wore a plastic wristwatch and several pairs of sunglasses on colorful cords around his neck.

“What are you doing in these woods?” was the first thing he said.

Any polite greeting Esther was thinking of froze on her tongue. “This is neutral territory,” she said stiffly.

“But you are Shunned,” he said. He spoke not with concern but with hostility. “If anyone were to search for you, this is the first place they would try. Your presence can only bring trouble for my partner.”

He stared at her in an open challenge. Esther didn’t answer and lifted her chin, matching his antagonistic gaze.

Skar was anxiously looking from one to the other.

“Esther is my oldest friend,” she whispered to Tarq. He said nothing at first, but a muscle in his jaw twitched. He had one arm draped around Skar’s shoulders and Esther noticed that he now squeezed the nape of her neck possessively.

“And I am your partner,” he said. “It is dangerous to be seen with norms. Especially one who has been driven out by her own people.”

He raised his head and gave a high-pitched whistle. Moments later, it was answered by a second whistle far away, then a third and then a fourth. Skar glanced up, and Esther could see both panic and concern flash across her face.

“Forgive me, Esther,” Skar said. “I want to help. But my people are nearby. If they see you here, they—”

But Esther was not there. She had already slipped back into the forest.

By now, the moon was high overhead. Dizzy and disoriented, Esther did not know where she was going. Still, she continued mechanically placing one foot after the other as she followed the faded double yellow lines; they seemed to go on forever as they bisected the abandoned two-lane highway.

She was filled with rage at the people of Prin. She loathed their cowardice, their blind obedience, and their pettiness.
They were responsible.
Esther’s body pulsated with fury, and her churning emotions acted as fuel and provided a rhythm that drove her on as she continued mile after mile down the highway.

Esther stumbled. She had been traveling since dawn that day, and she was close to collapse. She did not recognize any of the landmarks around her, casting long and ominous shadows, but she seemed to be on the outskirts of a small town. When she reached a shopping plaza, she had no choice but to stop for the night.

There were several possible shelters, but Esther was careful about which one she would choose. More than most, she was aware of dangers any unfamiliar building could hold. Many were structurally unsound, with rotting floorboards and ceilings. Any collapse could carry with it a deadly surprise, releasing hidden pockets of stagnant rainwater. Others were infested with roaming hordes of territorial animals, whether they were fire ants, rats, oversize spiders, or snakes. Still others teemed with massive patches of mold and fungus that could make you ill just by breathing their foul air.

After investigating a diner, an eyeglass store, a pharmacy, and a jewelry store, Esther found something that seemed promising, the final business in the block of buildings. It was a large, open space with windows that were mostly intact. In the dim light, she could see that empty metal racks lined the walls and adorned wooden islands. It was, she decided, a clothing store.

Esther picked her way across the trash-littered carpeting to the back. There was a smaller room here, with open booths built into the back wall, side by side. Each held a wooden bench and a full-length mirror. One still had a tattered curtain, which Esther pulled shut behind her. There, after a quick meal of bean cake and water, she curled up and attempted to sleep.

Despite her exhaustion, Esther was too keyed up. Although the store was deserted, tiny sounds kept disrupting the silence: the skittering of claws across wood. A sudden flurry of paper, and a loud squeaking. She tossed on the hard and tiny bench, attempting in vain to find a comfortable position.

Then Esther froze.

There was another sound, but it was not that of an animal. It was much too heavy, much too deliberate. Someone was in the outer room, and he was walking as softly as he could, trying not to make any noise.

In the dark, Esther sat up as she kept her eyes trained on the thin curtain, illuminated by moonlight that streamed in from the front room. She put on her sneakers and gathered up her bag, her muscles tensed to spring.

The footsteps were getting closer. Within seconds, they seemed to stop a few feet outside her booth.

A tiny shadow appeared at the lower corner of the curtain. Esther stared at it. Then suddenly, it extended and sharpened, as a skeletal claw reached out to touch the fabric.

Before it did, Esther ripped the curtain back.

A hulking creature was standing there in filthy and tattered robes. His eyes glittered in an emaciated face encrusted with dirt.

He said something guttural that she could not understand. Then without warning, he lunged at her.

Esther tried to push past him. He was no more than bones floating within his billowing robes, yet he was surprisingly strong as he clawed for her bag. She kicked him in the knee as hard as she could, and he let go for a second, allowing her to dive past. Then she was running through the outer room, leaping through the broken window and into the parking lot.

That was when she noticed that she was not alone.

In the moonlight, she could see at least a dozen skeletal forms moving through the stores and buildings of the shopping plaza. Esther stopped in her tracks. At first, they seemed like spirits of the dead, supernatural creatures from one of the stories Sarah used to read her many years ago. But then, she realized what was happening, and the truth of it was almost worse.

There was nothing left and yet they were obeying a routine they could not shake.

They were attempting to Glean.

She knew they were only people, boys and girls her own age who had been driven mad by hunger, desperation, and exposure. But their hunger was frightening because it seemed unthinking, inhuman, and insectlike.

She took off as fast as she could.

The air was cool and it was a relief to run, to put as much distance as she could between herself and what she had just seen. Yet the night was full of other potential dangers, sounds and shapes that she could not identify. When the moon retreated behind a thick covering of clouds, Esther was plunged into total darkness. She knew she should stop; to risk injuring herself would be stupid. Yet she was beyond caring. She stumbled on a broken piece of roadway and fell hard on her hands and knees.

Esther broke down and cried.

This time she did not do so out of anger or frustration. Instead, she cried because of her foolishness. She cried because she thought she could get away with breaking the rules, and she could not. She cried because, as a result, all was lost. At last, fatigue won out. She lay on her side, curled into a ball; and blessedly, she fell asleep.

Several hours later, Esther awoke on the side of the road, half in the gravel-studded shoulder and half in an overgrown field that bordered the highway. Overhead, the sky was gray with the first light of dawn. Her face was pressed to the concrete, which was still hot, tiny pebbles cutting into her cheek; and despite the scent of gasoline baked into the road, there was a thicker smell, sweet and nauseating, that overpowered it, catching in her throat and making her gag. The air pulsed with a heavy and constant drone as she found herself staring at a piece of broken glass, a shard of deep blue lying inches away.

Beyond it, something gleamed white. It was a branch stripped bare of its bark, a piece of wood bleached by the sun. But as her eyes focused on it, Esther realized what it was.

It was a bone. And attached to the end was a battered sneaker.

For as far as she could see, human remains littered the ground. There were hundreds of bones and bone fragments, most softened by exposure to near dust, animal teeth marks and knobbed ends alike eroded away to nothingness. All were human, still clad in the tattered remains of jeans and T-shirts, wrapped in moldering robes. Still others were fresher, heaped piles that stank of decay and were all but invisible beneath an oily black coating that shifted and shimmered in the early light. It was in fact flies, hundreds of thousands of them, busily eating, mating, laying eggs, and dying. They were responsible for the ceaseless drone that filled the air.

For this was the rumored place where the sick went when they had been Shunned from every community and driven away from the living. It was the place where people went when there was no more hope, no more life. It was the Valley of the Dead.

And Esther had ended up here as well.

She would run from it in terror, if she could. But she barely had the strength to breathe, much less move. As the first rays of sun began to heat and thicken the air around her, she felt the life force within her starting to ebb. She closed her eyes and saw a brilliant red that pulsed more and more faintly, in time with her heart.

But above the droning, Esther heard another noise, faint but real.

Something was in the bushes that lay beyond the highway’s shoulder. Esther opened her eyes to see what it was, but it was still too dim. Then she heard it again.

Someone was coughing.

Esther raised her head. The sky was imperceptibly brighter; and by its modest light, she could make out a small figure huddled against a tree.

Shakily, Esther got to her feet. She stumbled closer and saw that it was a girl, wrapped in dirty robes, sitting up and watching her.

The two gazed at one another without speaking. Even in the dim light, Esther could see the extreme pallor of the girl’s face, and the feverish light in her eyes. If she stood any closer, she knew she would also notice the telltale sores, the lesions that covered the face and limbs of the afflicted.

“Where are you from?”

The girl’s voice was cracked and dry, like an autumn leaf. It was so tiny, Esther had to strain to hear her.

“Prin.”

The girl nodded. “I was there once,” she said. “A long time ago.”

Esther hesitated. It was dangerous, she knew, to be close to someone who had the disease. In Prin, no one even spoke to the afflicted; once the lesions appeared, they were driven out of town, as Esther had been. But without food and water.

It made no sense to waste precious supplies on the dying. Yet now Esther reached into her bag. Taking out her water bottle, she uncapped it, and handed it over. The girl’s eyebrows went up in a question and Esther nodded. Then the girl reached out her hands. When Esther touched them to help her lift the bottle, they were hot and papery.

The girl drank deeply, the muscles in her throat working. She drank until the bottle was nearly finished, then she pushed it aside and sighed.

“Thank you,” she said. She sounded much, much better, but neither girl was fooled. “Where are you headed? You got a home?”