Wasteland (Wasteland - Trilogy) (24 page)

“It’s Levi,” she said. “He’s been using the variants somehow . . . getting them to attack the town so he looks like a hero.”

Eli nodded, pursing his lips; he appeared to be thinking. “He wants to buy Prin,” he said. “That’s what Rafe says, anyhow.”

“We can’t let him,” said Esther.

“Well, I don’t know that it’s such a bad thing, Levi buying us out,” he said. “Prin ain’t got much left for the rest of us, anyhow. If he wants it so bad, why shouldn’t he have it?”

“It’s not just about Prin,” she said. “It’s Caleb I’m worried about.”

At the mention of his name, Eli’s face froze.

“Caleb?” he repeated.

Esther sensed trouble, but she plunged ahead regardless. “I need you to find him for me. I know he’s been told to get out of Prin. But Levi’s got his baby and I know he won’t leave until he gets him back. I’d look for him myself, but I can’t.”

But the boy cut her off and Esther was stunned by the fury in the otherwise mild brown eyes.

“Your friend,” he said, spitting the words, “got what he deserved. He ain’t nothing but a coward. If only I’d have known what kind of trash you liked, maybe I would have stayed clear of you from the beginning.”

Esther put her hand on his shoulder; this time, he was the one to jerk away. “You played me for a fool for the last time.”

He started walking away, the grass swishing in his wake.

“Eli!”

But he did not turn around and soon was gone.

Esther sighed and sank back on her heels. She knew there was only one person now she could possibly approach, the only one (save for Joseph, whom she loved but knew was helpless in an emergency) who would even speak to her.

And it was the last person she ever wanted to ask for anything.

The sun was dipping low in the western sky by the time Esther stood outside the ruined mansion.

Unable to ask where the Gleaning crews were working that day, she had been forced to figure it out herself. Without a bicycle, she had canvassed much of the town on foot, searching up one long street and then the next for the familiar, purple-framed bicycle parked outside.

It was agonizing and time-consuming work, all the more so because she had to stay alert to the sound of work teams riding past. Yet at last, she had found it, on a street of broad lawns and large houses that was once considered exclusive. It lay in a tangle of other bicycles that leaned against an enormous uprooted tree in a large yard overgrown with weeds.

Behind the bicycles curved a long circular driveway that seemed to have once been picked up and wrenched by massive hands. The house itself resembled the face of an old giant, broken and toothless and blind. All of the windows were shattered or missing, and vines grew freely over the gaping chasm where the roof once stood.

It was almost dark; soon, the Gleaning crew would emerge, get on their vehicles, and head home with their haul. Esther squatted behind a toppled tree, rested her aching legs, and listened.

She did not have to wait long.

She heard voices, and then a person in filthy robes appeared at the door. It was a girl, talking to someone behind her. Four others stepped out onto the sagging and dilapidated porch, carrying a few filled plastic bags. It was an insignificant haul for such a large house. Esther assumed this was not the first time the mansion had been Gleaned.

One of the five called to someone still inside. “You go ahead,” Esther heard from the depths of the house. The four clipped their robes close to their legs and mounted their bicycles. Then, carrying their meager haul, they pedaled off into the twilight.

Moments later, Esther stood in the doorway.

She could not hear anything stirring; and she ventured in, picking her way along a makeshift path that wound its way through piles of sodden trash, dead leaves, and the broken remains of furniture. By the dim light, she could see she was standing in the ruins of what was once the entryway, with rooms leading off on the left and a hallway in front. Next to it loomed what was left of the stairway, disappearing into the murky darkness.

“Hello?” she called.

The cavernous living room was down two steps; by the far wall, the ceiling had partially collapsed, crushing two of the eight windows with heavy wooden beams. As Esther edged down the steps, something skittered through the trash and disappeared into the pile of bricks that was once the chimney.

She gave an involuntary start when she saw someone across the room. Whoever it was huddled against a destroyed sofa, its head bowed nearly to its knees.

“Sarah?” Esther called out.

There was no response. Then the masked figure raised its head.

“Esther?” said Sarah.

For an unguarded moment, the joy and disbelief were naked in the older girl’s voice. Then she caught herself and, once more, assumed her usual fretful, nagging tone. “What are you
doing
here?”

“I need to talk to you,” replied Esther.

She had been steeling herself for this conversation, one she had a premonition would go badly, the way they always did. “It’s important. What are you doing?”

Sarah made a dismissive gesture and stood, leaning against the wall. “I was just resting,” she said. “Did the others see you? They were only here a moment ago. Oh, Esther, how could you risk coming back like this? Why don’t you ever
think
?”

Already, Sarah was talking to Esther as if she were a little girl. And even though Esther struggled to stay calm and focus on what was important, she instead found herself clenching her fists so hard, her nails dug into her palms.

“I need you to help me,” she said in a low voice.

“Help you?” said Sarah. She laughed, but the sound of it was mocking. “I tried to do that. Didn’t I? I warned you again and again, and you refused to listen to me. So how can I help you now that you’ve been Shunned? It’s too late, Esther. It’s much too—”

Esther cut her off. “I need you to find Caleb for me.”

At this, Sarah fell silent for several moments.

“I see,” she said. “And was this why you came back to Prin?”

“Yes,” said Esther. “I—”

“No, no,” interrupted Sarah. “I want to make sure we both understand this. This was why you’re risking not only your life . . . but my life, too. Because that’s what you’re doing here, dragging me into this. You’re risking both of our lives to save that boy. That stranger.” Her accusation stung Esther, who stood in silence, taking it. “When did he arrange all this with you? Before you left? Did he tell you he loved you, make promises to you?”

“No,” muttered Esther. Her face was hot with anger and embarrassment. “It’s not like that. He—”

“You know what I think is sad?” said Sarah, almost to herself. “That boys say anything they want just to get something. And girls always believe them.” Her voice caught for an instant, but Esther could not tell if she was about to laugh or cry. “I can’t say I blame you. He rides into town and impresses everybody, and we all fall for it. Then he deserts us when we need him the most. And now you’re willing to risk everything just to save him.”

Esther couldn’t stand it anymore.

“Well, you know what
I
think is sad?” she shouted. As much as she hated them, tears of anger stung her eyes and she tried in vain to wipe them away. “That for the first time in my life, I need help. And the only person I can ask is you.”

Esther turned to go. But as she crossed the threshold, some impulse made her turn around and look back.

Her sister had pulled off the scarf that covered her face.

Esther was shocked by Sarah’s appearance. The dim light threw long shadows across her features, making her look gaunt and ancient. Her cheeks were sunken and her normally rosy skin seemed gray. Only her eyes glittered in the dark, too brightly, like obsidian.

“Sarah? Are . . . are you all right?” Esther said.

Sarah’s head dropped forward and she again sagged against the wall. Quickly, her younger sister was by her side, kneeling next to her. Esther reached out to touch Sarah’s arm and recoiled at the heat coming off of it.

Her sister was burning up with fever.

“You’re sick,” she said stupidly. She tried to touch Sarah’s forehead, but her sister pulled away.

“No,” Sarah said. “I’ll be all right. I just need to rest.”

“Come on,” said Esther. She was on her feet. “Let me get you home.”

“I can’t walk,” whispered Sarah.

Esther reached down to pull her sister up by the hands, but she was unable to stand. Esther then grasped her under the arms and tried to hoist her to her feet; but as Sarah’s arms were raised yet again, the sleeves of her robes fell back, revealing the bare skin.

That was when Esther noticed the lesion.

It was round and small, no bigger than a child’s thumbnail, purple and pink and glistening halfway between Sarah’s elbow and shoulder.

Esther recoiled, her hand to her mouth.

Both of them knew what that lesion represented, and the fever and the weakness, too. Soon Sarah would be found out and driven out of Prin.

Esther refused to think of it. All she knew was that right now, she had to get her sister home and into bed.

Without speaking, she reached to lift the older girl. But Sarah pulled away.

“Don’t,” she whispered. “I don’t want you getting sick, too.”

Esther hesitated. Then with a start, she thought of something that hadn’t occurred to her before.

She’d given her water to the dying girl on the highway, had even touched her hands. That was days ago. And yet she was still alive and well.

That decided it. Ignoring Sarah’s protests, she half guided and half carried her outside, propping her on her bicycle seat. Then with her sister’s arms wrapped weakly around her from behind, Esther gripped the handlebars and pedaled standing up. She had not gone half a mile before she was drenched with sweat—not only from exertion, but from the heat radiating off her sister’s thin body, pressed against her back.

Once they were home and she had helped Sarah up the stairs and into bed, Esther went into the kitchen. She had never prepared so much as a cup of powdered milk before, and now she glanced in despair at the meaningless utensils and bags of grain and flour stacked on their shelves, the unopened bottles of water. She was relieved to find a plastic container that still had the remains of rice porridge in it, leftovers from the night before. Scraping it onto a clean plate, she carried that and a glass of water into her sister’s room.

Sarah was sitting up in bed. In the soft glow of her bedside candle, she looked almost normal and for a moment, Esther felt an irrational burst of hope. She sat by her side, placing the glass into her hands.

“Here,” she said, with false brightness. “You’ll feel better.”

But Sarah did not drink. Instead, she took the glass and played with it, turning it around and around in her hands as she stared down at the bedcovers. Then she looked at Esther.

“I let you down,” she said. “I think I let down all of Prin.” There was a tremor in her voice. Then she bit her lip and looked away.

“Don’t talk,” said Esther. It panicked her to hear her sister talk this way. She held the plate of porridge in her lap and now, she lifted a spoonful of the meal to Sarah’s lips, to keep her from saying anything more. “Just eat something. You need to eat.”

But Sarah was shaking her head.

“You were always so willful,” she said. “You never trusted anyone, even when you were little. You hated this town. I thought you needed looking out for, no matter how much you despised me for it. Turns out I was the idiot all along.”

Her eyes were shining, and Esther was horrified to see that that her older sister—always so proud, controlled, seemingly perfect—was on the verge of tears.

So many feelings came rushing at Esther, it was impossible to make sense of them.

“I never despised you,” she stammered. “You’re my sister. You’re the smartest person I know. The smartest person in the whole town.”

Again, Sarah shook her head. “Book smart, maybe,” she said. “But I was stupid enough not to notice what was going on, right under my eyes.” She gave a low laugh, but there was no warmth in the sound. “And now here you are, in the same place. We’re two idiots, you and I.”

“What do you mean?”

Her sister said nothing, her lips pressed together as she gazed at the wall. “We’re two idiots,” she repeated under her breath, as if to herself.

Esther suddenly understood.

Levi. The way her sister always stuck up for him, even when others in town turned against him. Her dinner alone with him at the Source, and her strange behavior afterward. The fact that she had stayed single, despite the offers.

Sarah spent her entire life waiting for the boy she had always described as just a friend from childhood, nothing more. And Esther was too young and self-involved to notice.

Now she felt a wave of sympathy overwhelm her, as well as a crushing sense of sorrow.

“Caleb’s not like that,” Esther said. “I don’t know what happened between you and Levi. But Caleb is a good person.”