by Susan Kim
She saw what he was looking for halfway down the block. It was a group of small storefronts, set in from the sidewalk. Hung above them were signs written in strange symbols of gold and red that she did not recognize.
“I saw these the other day when I was Harvesting,” said Silas, panting. He bent over at the waist to catch his breath. “But I ain’t had a chance to check them until now.”
Esther had already moved close to one of them and squinted to look in one dusty window. The only thing she could make out were the odd statues on the sill. One was a bald man, fat and smiling, who sat cross-legged. Another was a strange creature that looked like a colorful snake, with wings on its back. Nearby, a white cat seemed to be staring back at Esther; it was sitting up on its haunches with one paw raised as if in greeting. Nothing was disturbed, which made it a promising place to Glean, and Esther felt her hopes rise.
“Don’t look like nobody broke in yet,” said Silas as he joined her.
It took them a few moments to find what they needed: a heavy chunk of masonry in a nearby alley. Older and stronger, Esther alone could carry it. It was craggy with dried mortar, yet she still had to throw it several times as hard as she could until the window finally broke with a resounding crash. She and Silas then climbed in, taking care to avoid the jagged glass edges.
Dust motes rose in the sunlight that now streamed in the small store, revealing empty shelves and counters that had been Gleaned long ago. Disappointed, Esther picked her way through the trash-strewn aisles, as Silas moved farther in.
“They got in through the back,” he called.
To Esther’s disbelief, the same turned out to be true for the neighboring stores and the ones on the next block, as well. In all her years eking out a living from abandoned storefronts and restaurants, she knew that there was always something to Glean if you looked carefully enough: a few packets of sugar, a handful of dried beans. Yet by the time they finished searching all three buildings, it was well into the afternoon and they had nothing to show for their efforts.
Esther pushed back her hood to wipe the sweat from her forehead, which was now gritty with dust.
“I guess we should head back,” Silas said, resigned.
Esther thought of Kai and Sarah with a pang; she couldn’t bear the thought of returning empty-handed. “You can head back if you want. But I want to try a little longer.”
Silas hesitated. “That case,” he said at last, “I got one more place to look. If you’re willing.”
Esther nodded. As they took off again, Silas changed direction, now aiming for the northern part of the city, toward the mountain that loomed on the horizon. Esther noticed that the grade of the streets had changed; they were now toiling uphill. Soon, she could see the central part of Mundreel beneath them in the distance, the sun glinting off the tall buildings made of glass and steel. They were now in a part of the city Esther had never entered before, a place of small three-story buildings with peeling and splintered wood set close to one another.
The streets were deserted, yet Esther had the distinct sense that they were being watched. She would spin around, but the empty windows and doors showed nothing: not a flicker of movement, no faces hiding in the shadows.
Finally, they stopped when the road in front of them ended.
She was about to speak, but Silas flashed her a warning look. Instead, she held her tongue and gazed about.
Esther heard it first: a faint whispering no louder than the wind blowing through the leaves of a tree. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw something materialize in the darkened doorway of a house, as insubstantial as a wisp of smoke. The apparition stepped into the light, and she could see what it was: a boy Silas’s age, dark skinned and impossibly thin, with eyes that seemed gigantic in his narrow face. Behind him was a girl who looked at most nine, with fine, dark hair that stood in vivid contrast to her pale skin. She was clutching what seemed like a filthy bundle of rags, but when it moved, Esther realized with a shock that it was an infant.
More and more Outsiders appeared. There were too many for Esther to count, and still they kept coming, children of every age. All of them were dirty and so malnourished, they were little more than skeletons draped in cloth.
Esther felt as if the breath had been knocked out of her.
“They won’t hurt you.” Although Silas kept his voice low, it seemed loud in the silence. “You can ask them.”
“Ask them? For what?”
“For sugar. Maybe they know where to look. Where they get stuff.”
His answer was so innocent, Esther blushed, for it was clear that these children had no idea where to look; they had no food, no water at all. And as she stood there, she suddenly understood what should have become apparent when she and Silas had searched store after store in vain for something sweet.
It used to be possible to scrape out a living by Gleaning. It wasn’t easy and the pickings were meager. Yet it was something. But now that Gideon had altered their glass system, all that had changed, for there was now nothing left to take. His prices were so high, he had essentially forced everyone in Mundreel to clean out the city, to scour every building for its remaining goods and bring them to the District. There they’d be exchanged for a tiny amount of glass and sold again. If Outsiders wanted to eat, they had to be involved in the unfair process or else be left behind.
The plan had been intended to help them, but it had only made them suffer. It was a betrayal of everything Esther and Gideon had agreed upon.
Impulsively, she spoke up. “Come with us.” Esther raised her voice and addressed everyone within earshot. “We have food and clean water. Enough for you all.”
She could sense Silas shooting her a quizzical glance, which she ignored. Esther knew better than anyone how little there was to spare back at the District. Yet right now, any objection seemed unimportant, a little mark in a notebook that didn’t make sense. The reality was here, right in front of her. And most important, she wanted Gideon to see with his own eyes the effect of his scheme.
To Esther’s surprise, however, her words had no impact. A few looked frightened or suspicious. But most of them had no reaction whatsoever. Their faces remained blank and withdrawn.
Only the dark-haired girl holding the child spoke up. “I come with you.” After a pause, the boy behind her stepped forward, as well.
“Me, too,” he said.
No one else volunteered. Before she left, Esther made a point of noting where they were. She would return later, she thought, with food and water. Maybe that way she could convince them to trust her.
It was easier walking back to the District since it was mostly downhill. Still, Esther and Silas had to stop every block or so to allow the girl, Saith, and the boy, Uri, to catch up. Saith clung to the child in her arms and refused to let anyone else hold it, even though she was clearly tired and stumbled from time to time. Esther learned that it was her little brother, Gera. She found herself admiring the girl’s loyalty and stubbornness. It made Esther happy to have her near.
For his part, Uri was silent, so much so that Esther assumed he couldn’t speak. Then, suddenly, he raised a hand and pointed to one side. “We walk that way; it quicker.”
His voice was so soft it was hard to make out what he was saying. For a moment, Esther wondered if he was quite right in the head; he was indicating a path that led in a completely different direction, and what’s more, he had never been to the mall and had no idea where they were going. She dismissed his words and continued to lead the others on their way. Yet soon she realized that the road she had taken them on was a dead end. As they retraced their steps and headed the direction he had first indicated, she spoke up.
“How did you know where we’re going?”
The boy Uri shrugged, a quick gesture. “You go where the tall buildings at. This way lead to the big road. It quicker that way.”
He was right. Thanks to his shortcut, Esther and the others found themselves on the main street that led to the cente
r of downtown. They were home within minutes, and Esther found herself marveling at the boy’s quick wits.
By now, it was late afternoon and Outsiders had begun streaming out of the District in swarms. In addition to small containers of water and food, many of them also carried or wore items they had clearly just traded or toiled for: new clothing, housewares, or trinkets. The air was full of laughter and chatter as they showed one another their new belongings. In the commotion, it was easy for Esther and Silas to slip the newcomers into the building.
Although Saith and Uri were fading badly, Esther needed them to make one last stop. Shepherding them before her, she made her way through the lobby and up to the floor where Gideon’s office was.
Standing in front of the door were two guards, boys she knew.
“Is he there? I have to see him.”
One acted as if he hadn’t heard and the other only glanced down at her for a fleeting moment.
“You ain’t allowed in.”
Esther flushed.
Next to her, she could sense Silas and the others quail, yet she refused to back down. Keeping her temper in check, Esther raised her voice. “It’s important. He’s got to come out and meet these two. He’s got to understand what’s going on outside.”
The two refused to even respond. It was only when Esther attempted to push past that one of them moved; he blocked her hard with his shoulder, knocking her to the side. Esther, her stomach knotted with anger, turned back to the others.
“Let’s go,” was all she said.
The long stairwell proved difficult for their guests, especially Saith. Silas held up a firestarter so she could see where she was going, but the light didn’t help. The little girl clung to the banister and at one point nearly dropped the infant. Without thinking, Esther reached out to take him, but the girl pulled away.
“No,” Saith said. “I got him.”
By the time the five of them emerged on the top-floor hallway, the air was already filled with the smell of dinner. Esther was about to lead the strangers to a room of their own when Skar appeared, looking concerned.
“Esther!” she exclaimed. “We were all worried where you two were.”
Esther spoke a few private words to her oldest friend. Then she and Silas led the strangers to the large room where her friends had gathered. As they stood in the doorway, the chattering and the clatter of silverware stopped as everyone noticed the newcomers.
“This is Saith and Uri,” said Esther. “And Saith’s little brother, Gera. They’re going to stay with us for a while.”
Joseph made room on his side of the table and already Michal was pouring water into two goblets. The entire table watched as the strangers approached the table. Then the boy and girl seized the glasses with both hands and drank with frantic thirst. After a few moments, Saith attempted to give the remainder of her water to the child.
“Come on,” Esther heard her whisper. “Try to drink.”
In the meantime, Esther made certain that the newcomers had enough to eat. Since the portions for the rest of them weren’t that large to begin with, she scraped her entire share onto their plates as well. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Uri examining the boiled squash and potatoes, spearing some on his fork and sniffing it.
Joseph sat next to him, watching. “It’s vegetables,” he said at last. “I know they smell strange, but they’re safe to eat.”
“They from the ground?”
Startled, Joseph blinked. “Normally, yes. We grow them on the roof.”
The younger boy seemed to be thinking. Then he nodded.
“Animals eat them,” he said as he put the entire forkful into his mouth and began to chew, “so it safe.” Tickled by the boy’s obvious intelligence, Joseph smiled.
Saith, however, hadn’t touched her portion. She was still focused on the child in her arms, murmuring over her brother as she tried to get him to drink.
Michal, who had a deep love for and understanding of all babies, no matter how fussy, had been watching with sympathy from the far end of the table. Now she picked up a spoon and stood to bring it over.
“Here,” she said. “Maybe he drink out of this.”
But the sound of her voice seemed to startle Saith. She turned to Michal so quickly the edge of her hood caught the child’s blanket and yanked it aside. Michal gazed down at the infant with a smile that faltered.
Then she let out a gasp.
Flustered, Saith tried to cover up the baby again, but it was too late. Michal, Esther, and everyone else had already glimpsed the child. In that moment, they could tell it was not an infant, but a little boy, a toddler tiny for his age. Even so, that was not what Saith had been trying to hide all along.
It was the glassy stare. The cheeks flushed with fever. And worst of all, the lesions, purple and the size of a thumbnail, scattered across the child’s face and arms.
The boy had the disease.
No one spoke for a moment.
Then everyone except Esther and the strangers stood up as one, some chairs scraping on the carpet and falling to the ground. Their faces pale and drawn with fright, they stumbled backward from the table in their haste to get away. Skar yanked Kai by the hand. He knocked over a plate that broke with a dull smash, and Sarah, bundled to Michal’s back, woke with a start and began to cry.
Esther had seen the ravages of the disease; they all had. The sickness spared no one, not the smallest child nor the strongest teenager. A single drop of water could kill the healthiest person within days, bringing with it the familiar bone-crushing fatigue and headaches, searing fever, and telltale sores. Soon, delirium would set in. The suffering the illness brought was so great that death often seemed to come as a relief.
Her hood pushed back, Saith gazed up at the others with a look of defiance and sadness.
Then she met Esther’s eyes. “If I said,” the girl said, her voice husky, “you wasn’t gonna let me near.”
She was right.
Everyone was terrified of the sick. The custom was to drive them away, to let them die on their own, for the healthy feared that they too would catch the disease from breathing the same air. Even now, Silas and Michal were each pressing an arm to their faces in an attempt to cover their mouths.
Saith lifted her chin and stared at Esther in open challenge. Esther didn’t blame her; the girl had no hope or chance left. She even found herself smiling at the other’s stubbornness, which reminded her of her own.
“You make us go now?” Saith said.
From where she still sat, Esther could feel the heat radiating off the child in Saith’s arms. “No,” she said. She had not planned her answer; in fact, she was almost as surprised by it as Saith seemed to be. Then she made up her mind and turned to the others. “They’re staying.”
A look of concern passed among her friends. Even Skar looked doubtful. “Esther—” she began. Stubborn, Esther shook her head.
Esther knew what it was like to nurse the dying. She had done so several times, first with her sister, Sarah, back in Prin. Then she had taken care of two of the adults from the District, sponging them off to give them some relief from the fever, propping them up so they could drink sugar water from a spoon. It allowed the ill a modicum of peace and even comfort. It was, she felt, the least she could do.
In all three cases, no one else dared to come near the sick except Joseph, and even he did so reluctantly, wearing a scarf wrapped around his mouth and nose. Yet Esther had taken care of them all and had even buried her sister after she died.
And she had not grown ill.
Her friends, she knew, were aware of this. And yet they were all still frightened, as if rumors were more persuasive than reality.
“There is nothing to fear,” Esther said.
Yet none of them volunteered to help her.
She would do this by herself.
Esther gave Saith and little Gera their own room, across the hall from her own. Then she set about fetching a bucket of water, clean bedding,
and some of her clothes. Because no one else would help, little Kai carried some towels and contributed one of his stuffed animals, a tattered creature with a long nose and oversize ears. He seemed fascinated by the other boy and even reached out to pat him on the stomach. He was, Esther realized with a pang, the same age as Gera.
Late that night, Esther came back by herself to see how the two were doing. Saith was already fast asleep in a pile of blankets, her dark hair vivid against the white pillowcase. Gera lay next to her, still wide-awake. His dark eyes, enormous in his pale face, glittered as he gazed up at Esther, his breath quick and ragged.
Esther reached down to touch his forehead; the fever had subsided a bit, as she knew it often did at night. On an impulse, she leaned over and picked him up. As light as he was, he clung to her with surprising strength. Esther settled herself on the ground with care, sitting close to his sister so she wouldn’t be frightened if she awoke and found him gone. Then she rocked him in her lap, brushing his hair back from his forehead with a gentle touch.
It was how she soothed her own children when they couldn’t sleep, and once again, it worked. Within moments, Gera’s eyelids fluttered shut and his breathing grew soft and even. And still, Esther continued to stroke his face.
She awoke with a start; she wasn’t aware she had fallen asleep. The room was filled with the pale, gray light of early morning and as she stretched her limbs, she found she was stiff from having spent the night curled on her side upon a hard floor. She realized Gera was no longer in her arms and that the bedding next to her was empty as well.
“Saith?”
Then Esther saw her. On the far side of the room, the girl stood motionless in the receding gloom, gazing out. When Esther drew next to her, she saw Saith was staring at the deserted city with unfocused eyes. The girl was clutching Gera, and even before Esther could ask, she saw how rigid the child was.
She knew the reason.