In a Handful of Dust

by McGinnis,Mindy

  “They don’t seem bothered by it,” she said. “The water can’t be all that bad.”

  “Maybe not.” Lynn watched her critically. She put a hand to her eyes to block the sun and regarded the far shore. “It’ll be a trek, but I say we walk the whole perimeter, see if anyone has tried to set up permanent.”

  Lucy scooped another mouthful of lake water, fascinated by the taste. “You don’t think we’ll find anybody, do you?”

  “Doubt it,” Lynn said brusquely. “It’s too perfect, too nice here for someone not to have set up already. Assuming you don’t get sick from the water, I’d guess there’s someone watching, somewhere, making sure nobody gets too comfortable.”

  They started off around the lake, retreating back into the cover of the woods to higher ground, where any permanent residents would have built their homes. Lynn kept a wary eye on Lucy, but she felt fine. The water sloshed pleasantly in her stomach, and she kept glancing through the trees at the glittering face of the lake, knowing something so valuable would not go unprotected in their world.

  They found no one. The fires from the night before had been extinguished and stamped out, the burnt edges of the scattered sticks standing out in stark contrast to the green of the forest floor. Both camps looked as if they’d left in a hurry.

  “They get tossed out, you think?” Lucy asked, when they stopped to rest opposite from the shore they started from.

  “Looks that way. Their fires were kicked around. I’m guessing they outstayed their welcome. But there’s no signs of a struggle. They were told to leave, not made to.”

  “So what do you wanna do?”

  Lynn was quiet for a minute as she watched some fish break the surface of the lake, hungry mouths grabbing for bugs. “I want to catch some fish, cook them over a fire, have a hot meal tonight. And then we’ll move on.”

  “Fish sounds good,” Lucy said.

  “Slide on down to the bank with me then. We’ll see what we can do.”

  They’d caught fish with their bare hands before. It was a skill that required stillness, something both of them had mastered with the rifle long before they’d applied it to fishing. Within an hour they were both wet to their shoulders and their bellies were coated with mud from lying on the bank, but there was a pile of fish between them.

  Lucy lost track of herself while they fished side by side, their shoulders touching when one of them made a lunge for a fish. Her mind wandered away from Carter, the waste of Entargo, even the sick they had left behind them at home. The sun settled on the horizon, and Lynn pushed back onto her heels and wiped scales from her hands, pulling Lucy back to reality. She looked at the wriggling pile between them.

  “We shouldn’t have caught so many,” she said. “We can’t eat them all tonight.”

  “No,” Lynn agreed. “But we can cook some and take the rest with us tomorrow. I’m not getting routed without taking something with me.”

  They made their first fire of the trip that night. Lucy wandered away from their camp searching for more sticks, with the sound of Lynn’s flint smacking together echoing off the trees. Her eyes darted in between the trunks, searching for the flash of skin, the bright blue of Carter’s eyes. But there was nothing.

  Lynn was quiet as well, intent on cleaning her rifle. The fire flickered off the barrel, and Lucy allowed it to mesmerize her, finding solace in watching Lynn’s familiar routine.

  “Do you miss home?”

  Lynn’s hands didn’t stop moving; her eyes didn’t move from her gun. “Got too much to think about to miss anything,” she said. “I’ll miss it later, when I’ve got the time.”

  “I wish I could be more like you,” Lucy said. “Not let stuff get to me so much.”

  Lynn snapped the barrel of her gun back together and looked at Lucy over the fire. “Don’t ever wish to be like me, little one. It’s not who you are. And it ain’t easy.”

  “I didn’t mean—”

  “You being like me would be like the sun wishing it was the moon. That’s not good for anybody.”

  Lucy looked away from Lynn, guilt flooding her even though she knew Lynn was right. Lucy had never had to kill, because Lynn kept her safe. She’d often wondered how much of the hardness around Lynn’s heart was from her uncle Eli’s death, and how much of it from self-inflicted scars. Lynn would do anything for her, leave behind the home she’d killed for in order to give Lucy a better type of life.

  Even so, Lucy couldn’t help but search the trees in the flickering firelight for any sign of Carter, as if her past were slipping, ghost-like, through the forest. The hope for something better had settled into her, firing desires Lucy didn’t know she harbored. The peace of her childhood with Lynn, the warmth of the home, the sanctity of the pond, seemed restrictive now that she’d been out in the world, even for a short while.

  So many times she’d snuck out her window into the night, the cold air filling her lungs and the drop to the ground rushing her blood along. Adventures had always called to her as a child, but she’d been hand in hand with Maddy and Carter then, life a waiting surprise and the promise of safety always taking the danger out of their pranks. Now Maddy was dead, Carter missing, and the intense way Lynn checked and rechecked her rifle reminded Lucy that safety was not a given.

  UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

  HarperCollins Publishers

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

  Nine

  Lynn could usually move in perfect silence, so the rustle of her return woke Lucy from her sleep. She rolled over.

  “S’wrong?” The coals of the fire gave enough light for her to see Lynn jump at the sound of her voice.

  “Thought I heard a coyote out there, but it was nothing. Go back to sleep,” Lynn said brusquely.

  Lucy burrowed deeper into her blanket in search of the pocket of warmth she’d left behind. She was drifting back into sleep when a stranger’s voice cut through the night, sending her blood coursing through her veins.

  “Hello, the camp!” a woman’s voice cried out, and Lynn shot to her feet, knife in her hands.

  Lucy scrambled in the shadows for her gun. She found it nestled by her side, the barrel of the rifle warm from her body.

  “I hear you,” Lynn said into the dark, eyes darting through the night. “What d’you want?”

  “Set by your fire is all,” the woman said, her voice seeming to come from a different direction this time. Lucy shifted her gun.

  “You alone?” Lynn called.

  “Just a woman alone, same as you all,” came the answer.

  “Come on in then,” Lynn said, hand still gripping the knife. “But come slow.”

  A few seconds passed. Lucy could feel sweat beading on her temples even in the cool of the night. She strained her ears for any noise but heard nothing. When she looked to Lynn with a raised eyebrow, the older woman only shook her head. She didn’t know which direction to look either.

  Lucy turned her head toward the lake and spotted the woman leaning nonchalantly against a tree.

  “Lynn,” Lucy said tightly, and nodded toward the woman, who uncrossed her arms and held her empty hands out in front of her once she knew she’d been seen.

  “I see you there,” Lynn said. “No need to play games.”

  The woman shrugged, hands still in the air. “You said come slow.”

  “I didn’t say come silent,” Lynn said, but motioned her on into the camp. Even watching her, Lucy was hard-pressed to hear her movements as the woman walked into the meager light of the coals, her face a calm mask.

  The woman was older than her voice. Deep-set lines etched her brow and dug a furrow between her eyes. There were matching streaks of gray running from both temples in her brown hair. Lucy looked her over, fascinated by a new face from the older generation, someone who had known life before the Shortage. Unlike Vera, there were no laugh lines around her eyes.

  The woman studied them back, in the moments they had to inspec
t one another as the fire flickered to life under Lynn’s ministrations. Lucy felt the woman’s eyes running over her. She dropped her own gaze and felt a flush spread over her cheeks at the close scrutiny. At home they had all known one another so well, no one was ever a particularly interesting sight.

  “I’m Jossica,” the woman said abruptly, breaking the silence that had fallen. “But my people called me Joss.”

  “Where’s your people?” Lynn asked in a tone that made it clear she was hoping Joss would return to them somewhat quickly.

  “They were run off,” Joss said. “We made camp on the other shore, night before this. You probably saw the fire.”

  “We saw two fires last night,” Lucy said. “We thought all the people had left.”

  “All but one.”

  “They leave you behind for a reason?” Lynn asked, and Joss glanced up at her.

  “You can have a seat, and I wouldn’t mind if you put that knife down either. You look like you know how to use it.”

  Lucy watched uneasily as Lynn lowered herself to the ground, still crouched, knife in hand. “What makes you say that?” Lynn asked.

  “Just a way you have about you.” Joss shrugged. “Wouldn’t want to run into you in the woods alone at night.” The fire flared, filling the crevices of her face with light and revealing a stunning pair of penetrating green eyes.

  “My people were booted when I was out hunting. Came back and found their fire all kicked to hell, everybody gone. World being what it is, I’d rather not be on the road alone trying to catch up to them, and I thought you two wouldn’t mind another pair of useful hands.”

  “What can you do we can’t?” Lucy asked.

  “I doubt there’s anything I can do that either one of you can’t,” Joss answered. “But a woman traveling alone is done for, and two is only one better.”

  “And three only one better than two,” Lynn said.

  “Maybe. But there’s safety in numbers, and three is bigger than two. I’ve been traveling awhile now, and I’ve seen some things.” Her gaze shifted away from Lucy and back to Lynn.

  Lynn return the glare without a flinch, but she sheathed the knife. “Having you along couldn’t hurt, I suppose,” she said, to Lucy’s surprise. “Till you find your own people?”

  Joss nodded. “Assuming, of course, we’re all headed the same direction?”

  “We’re going to—” Lucy began, but Lynn cut her off.

  “We’re headed west,” she said, silencing Lucy with a glare. “Trying to get away from a sickness.”

  “Who says there isn’t sickness in the west?”

  “Who says there is?”

  “Life’s a gamble, isn’t it?”

  Lynn shifted away from the fire to move over next to Lucy, dragging her blanket with her. “We’re going. And I’m sleeping for what’s left of the night.”

  Lucy bundled her blanket around her and curled into a ball, her back pressed against Lynn’s for warmth, their sleeping forms fit well from years of huddling together for heat. The familiar feeling of Lynn’s breathing moving in time with her own pulled Lucy back to simpler days, when life was a string of sunrises and sunsets, with long afternoons in between spent with Maddy and Carter.

  She snaked her arm out from under the blanket and curled a fist in Lynn’s long hair, a habit from childhood. Lynn’s hand covered her fingers and squeezed back in reassurance.

  “Are we out of Ohio yet?” Lucy sat in the shade of a pin oak, grateful for the escape from the beating sun.

  “Not yet,” Lynn said testily, the map spread over her knees once again.

  Joss sat near Lucy in the shade, her water bottle resting nearby. She had filled her bottles at Lake Wellesley but had no food of her own. Joss had taken on all the duties she could to make up for her lack; she gathered kindling if Lynn felt safe enough for a fire, and always volunteered to take the first watch. She’d even ventured into the kitchen of an abandoned house and made a paste of vinegar and baking soda that had cured a nasty poison ivy rash on Lucy’s arm. But none of Joss’ good points seemed to have an effect on Lynn. She’d been quiet and guarded since the new addition.

  “Let me know when we are,” Lucy said, trying to get Lynn’s attention.

  “When we are what?”

  “Out of Ohio.”

  Lynn glanced up from the map. “I will.”

  “Being out of Ohio will be interesting.”

  Lynn ignored her, immersed in planning their route.

  “I’ve been out of Ohio,” Joss offered.

  “Really? Before or after the Shortage?”

  “Before. I’m not from here, actually. I grew up in Florida.”

  “Florida . . .” Lucy let the word slide off her tongue. Lynn had forced something of an education upon her, mostly revolving around a musty set of encyclopedias her own mother had stored in the basement. She knew Florida existed, and that it was south, but anything more was new information.

  “What’s it like?”

  “I can’t tell you what it’s like now, I haven’t been back. But I’m sure it’s still hot, and there were crocodiles thick as your coyotes.”

  Lucy shivered, relishing the little chill of fear that ran up her spine. “That would rattle me.”

  “No worse than packs of wild dogs, I guess,” Joss said, watching Lucy from the corner of her eye, with a playful smile. “Crocs are just scaly wild dogs that’ll drown you and eat you.”

  “All right.” Lynn snapped the map shut. “Let’s go.”

  “What now?” Lucy asked.

  Lynn shouldered her pack and gave Lucy a blank look. “We walk.”

  “Walking. I love walking.”

  Lynn rolled her eyes as she shouldered her pack, but Lucy caught the smile spreading across her face before she turned away. Lucy allowed herself one glance around before they struck out onto the road, but there was no sign of Carter. Half of her breakfast lay wrapped in leaves beside a tree, regardless.

  “So what did you do for a living, before the Shortage?” Lucy asked Joss, grateful for the distraction of a new person.

  “I was a yoga instructor.”

  “You were a what now?”

  “A yoga instructor,” Joss said patiently. “Yoga is an ancient form of meditation that uses breathing exercises and holding certain postures to help you focus.”

  “So you taught people how to breathe and stand still?”

  In front of them, Lynn barely concealed a snort.

  “There’s more to it than that. You could benefit from it,” she said to Lynn’s stiff back.

  “I focus best on something when I’m actually doing it,” Lynn said without turning around. “Not standing and breathing and thinking about it.”

  “I was thinking more of the relaxation it can offer,” Joss said, but Lynn didn’t respond.

  “If you took the tension out of Lynn, she’d collapse from the shock,” Lucy said to Joss, who laughed easily.

  Teasing Lynn was something Lucy and Stebbs had excelled at, picking at her serious exterior until they got a smile, or sometimes, an explosion.

  “I had a studio in Florida, but I left and came to Ohio right before the trouble started.”

  “Why’d you leave Florida?”

  “Reasons.”

  As usual, someone’s reluctance to share only made Lucy more curious. “Was it a man?”

  “Lucy,” Lynn reprimanded her from ten feet ahead.

  “She’s all right,” Joss said. “No harm in curiosity.”

  “So what happened? How’d you make it this long?”

  “At first, I was lucky enough to be in a city. When they turned water lines off in the outlying areas, we still had access. For a price.”

  “I grew up in Entargo,” Lucy volunteered. “I didn’t know water came from anywhere other than the sink. So why did you leave the city?”

  Joss shrugged. “Circumstances beyond my control, mostly. What about you? Why did you leave?”

  “Well, my mom—my rea
l mom, not Lynn—was pregnant. Again.” Lucy saw Lynn’s head shaking at the level of sharing, but Joss didn’t even blink.

  “Ah, two kids?” she said. “Family regulations got you kicked out?”

  “Yup. They made us leave, and my dad was killed.” Lucy found the words from her past flowing, offering a distraction to which she gladly succumbed. Sharing an old hurt, long scarred over, was easier than the pains of the present. “I was lucky though. I found Lynn, and she’s been with me ever since. So what about your people?” Lucy asked. “Family?”

  “No . . .” Joss trailed off, watching her feet for a few seconds before answering. “Just a bunch of strangers trying to keep each other safe on the road. I’ve got no place to go. I’m waiting for it to find me. What about you two?”

  “California,” Lynn said, as if daring Joss to talk her out of it.

  “Good thing you love walking.”

  They camped off the road behind a barn with a rotted-out roof, the bare slats home to hundreds of swallows. Joss and Lucy talked Lynn into allowing a fire, and Joss produced a can of soup. She also had a bottle of wine.

  “No,” Lynn waved her off with a word, but Joss kept the proffered bottle pointing toward her.

  “I wasn’t kidding earlier when I said you might need to relax some.”

  “You two have some, and I’ll take first watch,” Lucy said, aware that Lynn hadn’t slept well the night before. Lynn reluctantly accepted the bottle and took quiet sips while Lucy pumped Joss for more information.

  “So people seriously paid you to teach them yoga?”

  “What you have to understand is people then had things you don’t.”

  “Like more than two pairs of underwear?”

  “Well, yes,” Joss said, “but I mean they had things like the promise of safety, the knowledge that food could be had cheaply and at any time, and water at the turn of a faucet. Having all that makes it possible to use your time in other pursuits. You could want things.”