by Darrell Bain
But how about kids? Surely they wouldn't be like that? Most of them, anyway. And even if a few of them were, she could cope with them a lot easier than adults. There were other kids like her around, without parents and probably being abused in some way, even if not quite so starkly as she had been. Others would have sought out adults to protect them. And she had seen some of them still wandering freely, like herself now. That would be even better. She could find them and maybe get them to band together for mutual protection until trustworthy adults could be found. She liked the idea and decided to try it.
Lyda took a small sip from the half liter of bottled water she had found in the back pack. It had been unopened. She would save it for emergencies and come back to the seep at night to drink. There was something else she felt compelled to accomplish, too. Somewhere in this vast expanse of desert, Mom might be wandering around, just as she was. She needed to try and find her once she felt more secure, despite the suspicion deep down inside that she was probably dead, too.
And last, she and whatever kids or good adults she could find or recruit, had to have a source of food and a means of defense from adults like those she had encountered. Keep the seephole a secret. Go back there at night and avoid being followed. Find a source of food and find other kids or adults to help. Figure out a way to defend themselves. Find Mom, if she were alive and here. She went back over the list of priorities in her mind until she was satisfied, then set out again, this time, not a senseless wandering, but a quiet and cautious reconnaissance with definite goals in mind. She felt better now, if not entirely optimistic or unafraid.
* * * *
Lyda almost stumbled over the family. She had been working her way closer to one of the big transport ships replacing one that took silently to the skies earlier. She had a vague thought in her mind that maybe new arrivals wouldn't be so mean and maybe there was one of the supply mechanisms nearby. She was getting hungry again.
The man and woman and what looked like twin boys about her age were all sitting in the shadow of a big stone formed like a misshapen teepee. As she came around it, she saw the man's legs stretched out in front of her at the last moment. She stopped just in time. The man heard her and scrambled to his feet. As she backed up, the rest of the family came into view as they stood up, too. They were all dressed in casual clothes, and all were wearing light jackets.
“You scared me,” the man said with a weak grin. He was small and slim, hardly taller than his companion and not much bigger than the two boys.
Lyda didn't answer. She wanted to be friendly, but she was leery now. Big Bill and his gang. The Rocky Mount gang, whoever they were. The crazy woman with the dead baby. She was rapidly learning that some people no longer acted rational in stressful situations. She fingered the revolver in her pocket, wondering whether to show it or not.
It was the woman who impelled her to a decision.
“Harry, don't be absurd. She's just a child, and she's scared, too. I can tell.” She took a step forward. Lyda backed up, then the woman got a good look at her face in full sunlight. She gasped.
“Child, what happened to you?"
“I got ... beat up by a man.” Lyda didn't feel like telling the whole story, not to anyone.
The woman smiled tentatively. “I guess you got away, then. Is that how it works here?"
“I don't know for sure,” Lyda admitted. “Just stay away from anyone named Big Bill."
“How long have you been here?"
“Just one day and night."
“Well, that's longer than us. We came in when that big carrier landed early this morning. We left that area because no one knows what to do. There's no ... no bathrooms or food or..."
“I know,” Lyda said. “There's some sort of machines that give out food and water, but the only one I've seen so far is controlled by a bad gang. They won't share."
“What's your name?"
“Lyda Brightner,” she said, still keeping her distance.
“Well, I'm Dorothy Shatner and this is my husband, Charlie. The two boys here are Patrick and Jacob. They got separated from their family when the invaders came to San Francisco. We met the boys on the ship and are taking care of them until we can locate their parents. Listen, sit down out of the sun; we won't hurt you."
Lyda decided to chance it but she picked a spot as far away from the others as possible while still getting some shade. It felt good.
“Where are those food machines? Do they give out water, too?” Charlie asked.
“Yes, they give food, water and some kind of cloth. I only know where one of them is and we can't go there,” Lyda said. “I think there's another one, but it's controlled by a Rock gang of some kind. I don't know where it is, but I don't want to go there, either."
“Well, what do we do?"
Lyda felt a sliver of despair course through her, causing her to feel sick. She was only eleven years old and an adult was asking her what to do? She bit her lip, feeling the swollen flesh there. She recovered, thinking back to her session on the rock, assigning priorities. “We have to get together with enough people to control a food machine, if we can find one.” She paused, then added, “And when we do, we're going to be fair about giving out food, water and the cloth."
“Can we go now? I'm thirsty,” one of the boys said. Lyda had forgotten which one was which. They both looked exactly alike.
Lyda decided they might as well. She was thirsty, too, but she didn't want to show her water bottle yet. She would share, only if these people proved trustworthy. It wasn't necessary yet; if they came in this morning, they wouldn't die of thirst for a while, even as hot as it was. She got up. “I guess we may as well start looking."
“What do the food machines look like?” Dorothy asked.
“Sort of like big ovens. The one I saw was half hidden by one of these big rock formations. And they give off a kind of warbling sound like a turkey gobble when the food bricks and stuff are dispensed, but the noise isn't real loud. You have to be close to them to hear it."
“Which way?” Charlie asked. His voice had a whine to it, like a little child not wanting to be put to bed yet.
Lyda decided she didn't like Mister Charlie Shatner very much. He didn't seem to be either helpful or authoritative, unlike her father. Dad would have already done something, instead of just sit in the shade and wait on someone else to take charge. Shatner didn't act like he would be dangerous, though. That was one good thing. Lyda looked around the flat expanse of the landscape. As she tried to decide which way to go, she saw the transport, which had landed earlier, rise into the sky, but this time, none came down to replace it. She didn't know what that meant, if anything. Maybe the aliens had enough people here now for whatever they had planned.
She could see big crowds of people milling around near where the transport had been. They looked small in the distance. To the right of the crowd of refugees and a bit nearer, there were fewer people. In the distance, a roughly circular boulder sat by itself as if it were a ball thrown into a sandbox, then abandoned. It was a long way from them, but she could see few people in between. She pointed.
“Let's try that big rock. If there's nothing there, we can start looking at others."
“Why do we have to go so far? Why can't we go back to where the people are? Maybe someone has already found some food and water."
“Shut up, Charlie,” his wife ordered. “I think she knows what she's doing."
Lyda wasn't so sure, but at least she was doing something, not just waiting for manna to fall from the sky. She let Dorothy Shatner and her husband take the lead while she hung back with the boys. Maybe they had some gumption.
* * * *
During the trek to the ball-shaped rock, they passed several other groups of people, ranging from couples to a dozen or so men, women and children. Lyda spoke to Mrs. Shatner as they approached the first group.
“Mrs. Shatner, I want to find a food machine before we start talking to any other people."
“C
all me Dorothy,” the woman said. She smiled and brushed sweaty blond hair away from her face. Her husband glanced at her, started to say something, then saw her face. It told him to keep quiet without her having to speak at all. They passed each group with watchful caution, not speaking.
Lyda tried talking to the boys. Jacob would answer questions and gradually began to open up, but Patrick spoke only in monosyllables, if at all. She wondered whether he was in shock, but had no way of telling for sure; she hadn't talked to any other children here. She did learn to tell them apart; Jake wore a red jacket; Patrick yellow.
Jake, as she learned he preferred to be called, was eleven years old. Almost twelve, he emphasized. He asked Lyda why she had gotten beaten up.
Lyda leaned close so the Shatners couldn't overhear. “Don't trust adults until you get to know them."
Jacob nodded. Patrick acted as if he hadn't heard, though Lyda thought he had.
They continued to walk. The landscape remained the same; swaths of grit and sand, small and medium rocks and here and there, larger stone formations growing up from the desert like oversized pottery shards. Occasional mesquite trees, creosote bushes bushesbuand patches of the tough grass filled in the rest. They grew closer to the big rock. At first, Lyda thought no one was there but then as they got close, she noticed someone had beaten them to it. The figure resolved itself into a tall, bearded man with a partially bald head. The beard was poorly trimmed. His expansive forehead was blistered a bright red from too much sun. He had some of the alien cloth draped around his shoulders like a toga and was munching on one of the alien food bricks. He stared at them belligerently.
“Go away. I got here first."
“It doesn't belong to you,” Dorothy said.
“Yes it does. Possession is the law. Go away."
Surprisingly, both Shatners looked toward her for direction. Lyda thought something must be wrong with them. With Charlie, anyway. Didn't they know she was only an eleven year old girl, in secondary school only through skipping a couple grades?
Lyda examined the balding man. His clothes were dirty, giving a good indication he had been taken captive at least a couple of days ago. He must have wandered here, found the machine and then stayed. Lyda took a step forward and spotted the supply dispenser, like the other one set in an alcove of the rock. “You have to share. There's enough there for lots of people. You should be making friends so the gangs don't run you off."
“Go away, I said.” The bearded man raised himself to his full height. “Leave me alone. I got here first."
Lyda saw there was no reasoning with him. She fingered the butt of the revolver in her pocket, but finally decided the man must have just gone a little crazy. A gun might make him worse. On the other hand, she didn't intend to leave, not even if she had to stay here and face him by herself. She glanced around and noticed there were some small stones broken off from the larger one. She bent down and picked one up in each hand.
“You're going to share, or we're going to fight you,” Lyda said, trying to keep her voice from trembling. Damn it, why did she have to be the one to take charge? Why didn't the adults do something?
The bearded man dropped the food brick to the ground, letting both his hands hang free. He took a step forward.
Lyda raised her arm as if getting ready to throw the rock at him. “Stop. You stop right where you are, or I'll ... I'll hit you."
Surprisingly, he halted his advance. “You're a mean kid. How come your parents let you be like that?"
“These aren't my parents. Now move away. We're going to get some food and water.” She threatened with her rock again.
Pouting, he allowed the Shatners and the boys to pass.
“Let the boys go first,” Lyda said when she saw Charlie bending over the single tub of water in sight.
Charlie continued to dip water with his cupped hands.
“Go make him stop, whatever your name is,” Lyda said to the man in front of her.
Surprising her again, he did. He strode over to where Charlie was drinking and yanked him away by his collar. “Women and kids should go first. Don't you know that, mister?” He looked to Lyda for approval. “You can call me Willy. My real name is Williard, but I don't like it."
Lyda decided he wasn't very bright, but that was all right. He appeared to be controllable; in fact, he was now acting as if he wanted someone in authority to tell him what to do. She watched as Dorothy and the twins drank, then each accepted a food brick from Willy. Charlie looked on resentfully.
“You can drink now, mister,” Willy said to Charlie. “You can eat, too, but we have to share. Ain't that right, kid?"
“That's right, but my name isn't kid. It's Lyda Brightner. I'm from Texas."
Willy was impressed. He smiled ingratiatingly. “I bet that's why you're so mean."
“I'm not mean,” Lyda said. “I just want everyone to be fair. We have to watch out for each other now.” Charlie stepped past Willy and began dipping water to his mouth. I'll have to watch out for Charlie, she thought. Why does Dorothy let him act like that, I wonder. Why are so many people here so mean and crazy?
Lyda found no answer, not then. She had no experience to draw from in order to predict the actions of large numbers of people in a disaster situation, and especially one never before seen on earth. Another thing that struck her as strange was how she herself was acting, as if there had been a paradigm shift in her mentality, where abilities she hadn't known she possessed were surfacing. She had never thought of herself as a strong, forceful person; she was simply an intelligent, inquisitive child on the verge of becoming a young woman, and had been looking forward to the experience. Her breasts had started to grow several months ago but she hadn't begun menses yet. How was she supposed to know what to do in this kind of situation when even some of the adults were helpless? I guess I just have to learn how to cope with it, she told herself, like I've done so far. At least I'm not crazy or a thief or coward or a ... a rapist. I know right from wrong. I know how people are supposed to act, even if they've forgotten how. If I have to pretend like I'm already grown up, I'll try to do my best. And Big Bill better not try to stop me!
* * *
CHAPTER FOUR
While the others were resting in the shade, Lyda drew Willy off to one side to talk to him. He came willingly, like a newly obedient puppy.
“Willie, how often does the oven open for the food and water and cloth?"
“Oven?"
“The machine the food and stuff comes out of. It looks like a big oven to me."
“Oh, yeah. I guess it does. Well, it gave me some before dark yesterday and then it did the same this morning. It made a noise when it came out."
Lyda didn't have a watch but by looking at the sun, she could tell it was getting late. “What else is there around here? Are there any bad people?"
“Not here by my rock—by our rock. We have to share, right? There's an old road over that way.” Willy pointed. “Maybe the bad people live down it?"
“I'll go look,” Lyda said. “You stay with the others and make sure they're good, okay?” She grinned and Willie returned it, displaying several missing teeth. He hurried back to the rock and the shade it provided from the evening sun.
Lyda found the old road a hundred yards out into the desert where there was nothing to see for miles, except an occasional small bush and rocks. There were relatively fresh tire tracks. She followed the road for fifteen minutes, then gave up. It could go on for miles. On her way back, she found a discarded plastic water bottle with the cap still on and picked it up. Once it was rinsed out, that would give her two, a reserve for emergencies. She was nearing the rock again when she heard the gobble of the supply dispenser. She quickened her pace, wanting to get a closer look at how it worked, but by the time she got there, it had already finished. Willy was dispensing food and water like a faithful parolee who had learned his place in society and was happy with it.
After eating, Lyda asked Dorothy what they should
do about a place for a bathroom. She didn't know exactly what arrangements should be made, but she did know from reading that in disaster situations, illness from lack of sanitary facilities was a big problem. Even Big Bill had designated an area for waste, but she thought there was more to it than that. While Dorothy went over to talk with Charlie and Willy about it, she was able to examine a bolt of the alien cloth for the first time. It was slick on one side and absorbent on the other and came in rolls about three feet wide and a good many yards long. The material was too tough to tear. Lyda was able to use the paring knife to cut some of it in thin strips six inches long or so to use for toilet tissue and for washing and cleaning.
She showed Jacob what she was doing and he volunteered to help. She left him with it when the others came back toward her.
Dorothy saw what she had done with the cloth. “Oh, Lyda. You're a genius! That will be a big help, especially for us women. By the way, I marked off a couple of areas for ... bathrooms, but I think we need to dig holes or trenches, like the army does. How can we do that?"
They keep asking me, Lyda thought. Why don't they think of things themselves? I can't do everything. She didn't vocalize her thoughts, though. Instead, she suggested that Charlie and Willy carry one of the tubs of water Willy had secreted around to the “bathroom” area to be used for washing. That still left two full tubs of water. After that, she told them as soon as they emptied a tub, she would show them how to shape it into useful items. The first would be a big scoop to dig holes for waste.
“Why don't we just pour one of them out?” Charlie suggested.
Lyda thought of how thirsty she had been the day before. “No. We'll probably need it."
“What for? There's only six of us. There's plenty."