In a Handful of Dust

by Mindy McGinnis

  Nora drew a warm washcloth across Lucy’s face, and the last trails of pink from Lynn’s blood were blotted away. “You’ve exhausted yourself,” Nora said, pressing gently on the swollen skin around Lucy’s eyes.

  Lucy held her hands to her chest to feel the emptiness there, the place where so much love had been.

  Nora leaned Lucy back on her own bed and tucked a blanket around her shoulders. “It sounds like Lynn’s had a hard life.”

  Lucy nodded, unable to deny it even in the empty aftershock of her wrath. “She’s had to do horrible things to survive.”

  “I understand,” Nora said softly as she wrung the washcloth out over a pan. “But when people have to do things like that, it changes them. I can’t say what kind of person she would’ve been in a different situation, but I can say what she is now. And it’s not the kind of person I think you want to be.”

  Years of emotion tangled up with Lynn revolted in Lucy, and she had the sudden urge to throw the blood-tinged water in Nora’s face. But then the thought of Carter’s life evaporating from his spilled blood made her shake her head. “No,” she agreed. “I don’t think I ever could be.”

  “We don’t live like that here, not anymore,” Nora said. “We are strong and healthy, with good food and—now you’re here—plenty of water in our future.”

  “And soft pillows,” Lucy mumbled, as what remained of her energy slipped away.

  Nora smiled and squeezed Lucy’s hand. “And soft pillows, as many as you’d like.”

  Nora wasted no time surrounding Lucy with books, elated to finally have someone with a quick mind who wanted to learn her craft. Bailey was acceptable as an assistant, Nora explained, but her calloused hands and abrupt manner made her a less than desirable caregiver. Nora sat on the floor across from Lucy for days, showing her how to navigate the huge books and pull the streams of information from them. They were piled all around the two of them like a paper fort, the words protecting them from the many-faced specter of illnesses, the pages muffling the sounds of Lander moving Lynn from her room. Lander and Nora had both thought it best if Lucy and Lynn were kept separate for a while. Nothing should strain Lucy’s nerves as she searched the desert for water.

  As the days crept by, Lucy felt as if her emptiness was growing to fill all her corners, leaving room for nothing else. Worry and fear slipped away, anger and happiness following shortly thereafter. Even Ben’s ill attempts at humor could not grate on nerves that didn’t exist anymore, and Lucy floated in a cloud of nothing as the cooler breezes of fall played with the short ends of her hair once Lander set her to the witching again.

  The big man’s patience was stretched. Two of the wells she had marked earlier had run dry only days after being struck, and his hands fell on her shoulders more heavily than when she had first arrived. Lucy tried to ignore the increasing pressure of his fingers on her arm as they walked the flags together and she tried to discern which veins ran deeper than others. She’d been able to make out the wild maelstrom of Lynn’s hair in the wind on top of the hotel where her rifle still rang from, and while she could ignore Lynn’s presence, she couldn’t rid her mind of Lynn’s words that had warned of danger.

  “So you staying?” Ben asked as they roamed the desert to the east of the city, his arms loaded with flags dirty from reuse after marking failed wells.

  “You don’t sound too happy about it,” Lucy said.

  “I don’t care either way what you do,” Ben said airily, striking a flag into the ground even though she hadn’t told him to. “But I know who does.”

  “I’m not talking to you about Lynn.”

  “Didn’t mean her,” Ben said. “It’s my dad. Every well you’ve marked has been as useful as a stream of piss.”

  “Know a lot about those, do you?”

  “Lynn’s mowed a path to every unreachable water tank we had. She’s earned her way, even if she’s not warming up to Dad. You were supposed to save us, but so far all you’ve done is set us to digging holes with mud at the bottom.”

  Lucy snapped her stick upward, grabbing it with both hands to keep herself under control. “Oh yeah, and what about you? What do you do that’s so special?”

  Ben looked at Lucy, imperious even with a bundle of muddy flags clutched to his puffed-up chest. “I’m smart.”

  “Really?” Lucy slung her stick over her shoulder, finished witching for the day even if there were flags left. “That’s your big contribution? You’re smart?”

  Ben’s upper lip curled, and his small face contorted into a grimace so fierce for a moment Lucy forgot she was bigger than him.

  “I’ll show you. You need to learn exactly where you stand. And where I stand too.”

  Dormant emotions laced through her and Lucy glared back, grateful to feel something after the weeks of nothing. “You don’t know the things I’ve been through in order to stand at all.”

  A grim kind of satisfaction rippled across Ben’s eyes, and he smiled. “Tomorrow then.”

  UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

  HarperCollins Publishers

  ..................................................................

  Thirty-Two

  “Lucy?”

  Lynn’s voice crept into her dreams, bringing visions of home and green fields. The present evaporated like the rain that never fell, and Lucy turned toward the voice, reaching her hand out before she was fully awake. The familiar touch of weathered hands brought Lucy to consciousness and she sat up quickly, a streak of fear pulling her forward.

  Lynn sat at the foot of Lucy’s bed, her face a pale circle in the moonlight, her dark hair lost in the inky blackness of the room. She had one finger to her lips, her eyes cautiously sliding over to Nora’s bed.

  “How did you get in here?” Lucy hissed, yanking her hand away from Lynn.

  “Just be quiet and listen to me,” Lynn whispered. “That’s all I’m asking.”

  Lucy pushed herself up against the headboard, knees pulled protectively to her chest. “Talk fast.”

  “I’ve been watching, ever since they put me up to shooting the cats. I can see everyone and everything goes on in this town, whether Lander knows it or not.”

  “I already know all this,” Lucy said in a regular voice, and Lynn shushed her.

  “They still send out the cars,” Lynn said quietly. “Real normal like, on a schedule. They go out, and they come back with nothing to show for it. Two days ago one of the cars came back way early, with passengers. They picked up three men in the desert.”

  Lucy shook her head. “I haven’t seen anybody new. I know every face around here, and Nora hasn’t said anything about having patients.”

  “I doubt she does,” Lynn said. “They looked healthy enough to me. Nothing wrong with ’em but a bit of sunburn and a big thirst, I imagine.”

  “So where are they?”

  “That’s the question. I’m asking you to keep your eyes and ears open. And be careful.”

  “Careful?” Lucy’s voice rose. “Who’s to say they didn’t let them walk out of here on account of them being men? Last thing we need is more mouths to feed.”

  Lynn raised an eyebrow, an accusatory black line tented in the moonlight. “We?”

  “Yes,” Lucy spat. “We. There’s no reason to think any harm was done to them, any more than’s been done to us.”

  “Yeah,” Lynn said quietly, the word coming out harsh and ragged. “And what has been done to us?”

  Tears sprouted in Lucy’s eyes, all the more painful for having been absent for so long. “Get out of here before I wake up Nora,” she said. “And don’t ask me to look for something to fight in every shadow that crosses the path. I don’t want to live like you.”

  Lynn watched Lucy for a moment before rising, her renewed health evident in the hard lines of her body as she stood. “I didn’t want to live like me either, little one,” she said. And then she was gone.

  Ben was at her door early the next morning, a fresh bundle of fl
ags gripped to his chest.

  “Really?” Lucy picked sleep from her eye as she stood in the doorway. “I thought today was the Let’s-Show-How-Smart-Ben-Is Day.”

  “Oh, it is,” he said. “But work before pleasure, Dad says. Get dressed, he’s picking us up when everything is ready.” Lucy dressed quickly, and as the two of them marched out of the city she heard Lynn’s bullets flying overhead and wondered if the ghostly conversation from the night before had only been a dream. The sun soon burned away thoughts of anything except water, and Lucy’s stick pointed sure and true, as if her own limbs were suddenly clear of confusion.

  “You’re confident today,” Ben said, as he placed a flag.

  “I feel good,” Lucy admitted. “It helps.”

  “You haven’t felt good before?”

  “I was . . . unsure.”

  “What changed?”

  Lucy didn’t answer for a moment, thinking of Lynn’s stealthy conversation in the night, the heavy words weighted with dread. Whether it’d been a dream or not, it had solidified in Lucy that she didn’t want to live in fear and suspicion. Lander and Nora would never be Stebbs and Vera. But her affection for them would grow, and she would let it.

  “Hello? Water monkey?”

  “You, however, I will never like,” Lucy said aloud.

  Ben shrugged. “Like me, not like me, whatever. After today you’ll respect me.”

  Lucy ignored him, switching her stick over the dry dust in front of her. When the sound of the car engine cut through the air hours later, Lucy realized how lost in her own reverie she had been. Ben’s arms were empty, the sterile desert behind them populated by waving blue flags.

  “Well done,” he said. “I’ve not seen you that involved before.”

  The car pulled to a stop in front of them, sending a spray of dust into Lucy’s eyes. She shaded her face to see Lander emerging from behind the wheel, his shadow far outreaching either of theirs.

  “Lucy.” He smiled at her, casting an arm behind them at the expansive waste littered with flags. “You worked hard today.”

  “I did,” she said cautiously, still unsure of his smile.

  “How about a break? Ben said you’ve made a decision to stay, and Nora agrees you’re ready to understand the importance of what you do for us here.”

  “I couldn’t ever not understand the importance of water,” Lucy said as she slid into the backseat. “Whether it’s some I’ve found or not.”

  “Maybe not,” Lander said as he drove, “but Ben thinks you should know exactly what’s at stake.”

  Lucy thought of the endless desert, her tongue so swollen it stuck to the dry roof of her mouth, Lynn falling in her tracks and unable to rise. “I know what’s at stake.”

  “Just enjoy the ride then, and you’ll see when we get there,” Lander said, his good nature uninhibited by the tartness of her response.

  They crossed over the highway, the car bouncing as it made the transition from sand to asphalt and back to sand. Lucy took her backpack off and set it next to her on the seat, rummaging for the bottle of water. It tasted bad as ever, but she forced it down, determined that someday she would forget the cool sweetness of water from her own pond and be thankful for what she had.

  A flash caught her eye on the horizon, and Lucy realized they were heading toward the same spot she had noticed weeks before, drawn to her attention by a similar wink of light.

  “Where we going?”

  “You’ll see,” Ben said, his tone all the more lofty with his father nearby. Lucy rolled her eyes and took another swig of water, resting her head against the back of the seat.

  When the car stopped, Lander came around and opened the door for her, offering his hand. She left the cool of the car for the blast of heat from the desert and Lander’s forearm was suddenly tight around her waist, pulling her back into him and pressing her lungs flat. His other arm snuck around her chest, pining her arms to her side and crushing every inch of her body against his. Lucy gulped hot air into her lungs, feeling as if Lander’s body were taking over hers, enveloping her tiny skeleton into his frame and making it his own.

  “I’m going to turn you around in a moment,” he whispered into her ear, his voice low and thready. “And when I do you’ll understand how badly I need those flags to be in the right places. Are you ready?”

  She nodded slowly, aware that he was fully capable of snapping her in half. He turned her and she saw what they had dragged her out into the desert for.

  A huge plane of glass hung suspended from crudely formed metal beams, their angles awkward and imprecise. The glass was a patchwork mess of different shapes and thicknesses. Lucy spotted tinted car windows, broken pieces of mirror, and even a riot of color where a stained-glass window from a church had been soldered in, all forming an uneven surface that swayed from the unsteady poles. The baking sun’s rays bent and refracted through its twisted surface to glisten off the red meat that lay underneath, cooking in the heat of the day. Lucy lay limp against Lander’s chest, confused.

  Until she saw the finger among the red mess.

  She bucked wildly against him and Lander clamped down harder, squeezing the last breath of air from her lungs, the words she would’ve screamed dying in her throat.

  “Listen to him,” Lander said. “Ben wants to show you how it works.”

  Ben nearly pranced in front of her. “I made this,” he said proudly. “Well, I drew the plans for it anyway. I can’t actually lift things, you know.”

  Lucy gasped and slid to the ground as her oxygen ran out and Lander went down with her, lessening his grip so she could breathe.

  “Tell him it’s nice,” Lander said. “He wants you to be proud of him.”

  “What is it?” Lucy managed to ask, and Ben lit up at her interest.

  “It’s quite simple really. There’s another pane of glass underneath that mess. Heat from the sun bounces in between both of the surfaces. Once it’s hot enough, the moisture starts to evaporate. And then—check this out, it’s the best part . . ..”

  He walked to the edge of the suspended pane, his thin arms shaking as he pressed down on the edge. It tilted with a groan of metal that perversely reminded Lucy of a teeter-totter Lynn had shown her in an abandoned park. Accumulated beads of pink water slid to the edge, where they dripped into waiting buckets.

  “Moisture?”

  “Yeah.” Ben grabbed one of the buckets and brought it over to Lucy, grandly depositing it in front of her to look into. “The human body is over eighty percent water. I found a way to get some of it out.”

  Lucy turned her head to retch, the tepid water she’d drunk frothing over her lips and mixing with the sand only inches from her face. “Oh God,” she said, staring at it. “Oh God, that’s why it tastes so bad.”

  Ben crossed his arms, and Lander pulled her back up to face him. “Well, I can’t be held responsible for the quality,” Ben said. “It’s the quantity that’s the problem. Nora and I had a long talk about swelling a few years ago, and I figured out that if we broke every bone in their bodies first, there was a much better yield.”

  Lucy went over into her own mess then, kicking Ben’s bucket away from her and spilling the pink water over his pants. Ben wiped at his jeans, looking distastefully at the spreading stains.

  Flat on her stomach, Lucy stared at the pile of red that had once been human beings—three men, she guessed—and the tiny amount of water that had come out of the bucket she’d kicked. “What a waste,” she cried into the sand, her tears drying on her cheeks before they could cut tracks in the dirt griming her skin.

  “I wouldn’t say that,” Ben said, hands on his hips. “True, we can’t cook them long before they start to rot, but everything left over goes right into the garden for the plants.”

  Lucy dry-heaved, her stomach clenching so tightly she cried out with the pain of it.

  “What?” Ben asked. “I thought you liked tomatoes?”

  The ride into the city was silent. Lucy sat in th
e backseat, the blooming hope of a new life here having been plucked and withered within a short time. The emptiness swelled again, making her limbs so heavy Lander had to carry her to the room she shared with Nora. The older woman gave her a smile and tucked her into bed, explaining in her calm and reassuring voice that there was no other way.

  “Now do you understand why we need you to witch for us, and to do it well, little one?”

  “I can’t find water if it’s not there,” Lucy said. “If the veins dry out, that’s not my fault.”

  “It’s not about fault,” Nora said. “It’s just important you know the situation. We’ve been adding the water Ben’s machine gathers to what we had left of the pool and fountain water.”

  “Why don’t you say what it is?” Lucy asked. “It’s not water you’ve gathered. You killed for it pure and simple, and you’re drinking . . . I’ve drunk . . .” Her lungs hitched, spiking her blood pressure and sending black dots across her vision.

  “All right, that’s enough,” Nora said sternly, pushing Lucy back onto her pillow. “I understand you’ve got your reservations about the process, but you’ll understand in time. And remember, if it weren’t for our ways we’d have been dead in this city long ago, and you on the road with no one to save you.”

  Lucy nodded meekly.

  “Good then.” Nora smiled. “You get some sleep for now. We can talk about it more in the morning.”

  Nora slid into her own bed, and Lucy listened to her breathing even out and soon hitch with the light snore she’d become accustomed to hearing. Once she knew Nora was deep asleep, she slid from bed, dressed in her threadbare clothes from the road, and dug in her pack for the two Tasers Ben had given her.