In a Handful of Dust

by McGinnis,Mindy

  Lucy’s heart skipped a beat at Joss’s words. Wanting something more sounded wonderful, but it seemed like a distant possibility in the ruggedness of their world. “And some people wanted to learn yoga back then?”

  “Definitely. But you could do other things too: take piano lessons, read a book, play a sport. There’s a ton of things your generation knows nothing about.”

  “Yeah, sorry,” Lynn said. “She’s too busy gathering water and wood to practice her breathing.”

  “In some ways, it’s a shame,” Joss answered, and Lynn buried her response in the mouth of the wine bottle. “Most people these days, it takes all their time just to make sure they live. Before, we threw ourselves into actually living.”

  “Like having fun?”

  “More than that. Sometimes it almost made me stark crazy, the pressure of having all those choices. I could’ve been a lawyer, doctor, bus driver, violinist—hell, even an astronaut. When I was a kid, we talked all the time about what we wanted to be when we grew up.”

  Lynn wiped her sleeve across her mouth. “I’m happy I grew up at all.”

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying,” Joss countered. “Used to be we were raised on dreams. Now we tell the kids they’re lucky to be alive. In that way, I do miss the city. There were more options there. You were exposed to more things.”

  “The city, huh?” Lynn said, glancing up from the bottle of wine. “It exposed a lot of people to cholera.”

  “Sickness happens out in the country too. You’re running from it, after all.”

  “Maybe,” Lynn granted. “But people weren’t meant to live that way, inside of boxes stacked on top of each other.”

  “What were you expecting Entargo to be like?” Lucy asked, curious as to what Lynn’s vision had been.

  Lynn shook her head, gaze lost in the dying embers of the fire. “I don’t know. But when I saw it, all I could think of was the lump your grandma cut out of old Mr. Adams, you remember?”

  Lucy nodded. It was hard to forget the cancerous mass one of their neighbors had reluctantly revealed to Vera, a black tumor that had bulged from the back of his knee.

  “It was like that, for me,” Lynn continued. “An unnatural growth cropping up somewhere it had no business, in the middle of fields and forest, with straight cement roots no amount of cutting will ever get out of the dirt.” Her eyes lingered unfocused on the flames. When she spoke again, it was with the tone of voice Lucy knew meant she was using words not her own, quoting a poet long dead from a book of her mother’s that lay mildewing miles behind them.

  “And in these dark cells,

  packed street after street,

  souls live, hideous yet—

  O disfigured, defaced,

  with no trace of the beauty

  men once held so light.”

  Lucy reached across the fire and plucked the bottle out of Lynn’s hands. “No more wine for you.”

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  HarperCollins Publishers

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

  Ten

  The road was mesmerizing. Lucy put one foot in front of the other, kept her gaze on the horizon, and never stopped moving. The overgrown country roads slashed across the fields in unbending lines. The sky had been gray since morning, echoing back the colors of the road and just as endless. From rim to rim it was filled with clouds that gave no rain, only a teasing promise some might fall. Maybe.

  Joss and Lynn were silent. The air was dense with humidity, stilling even the wildlife. For hours the only movement Lucy had seen was the swirl of gnats in front of her own face, drawn by the sweet smell of her sweat. She trudged on, picking a landmark in the distance and passing it, then picking a new one.

  Her thoughts slid back to Carter and Lake Wellesley, wondering if he’d been ousted along with the other people squatting around its banks. There were plenty of empty houses nearby. If he could find a water supply and begin stockpiling wood for the winter, there was no reason why he wouldn’t make it. But the hopelessness in his face when he’d last spoken to her hadn’t given her much to hold on to. If he didn’t want to live, he wouldn’t.

  The forked ash stick in her pack rubbed between her shoulder blades, reminding Lucy she could have found water for Carter, helped him in a priceless way no one else was capable of. If she’d had the presence of mind to share her secret as they stood saying good-bye in the moonlight, she might have been able to see if his trembling hands were capable of witching. At the least it would’ve bought her a few more hours with Carter, And possibly a source of life for him.

  She slapped at the gnats in frustration, angry with herself for not being quick enough to think of sharing her secret in that moment. Water couldn’t cure him of the virus in his blood, but it could keep him safe, and tied to a piece of land where she’d be able to find him again.

  And she was going to. Joss’ comments from the night before had planted a seed in Lucy’s brain that sprouted during the night, giving life to a new goal. If people in California didn’t have to dedicate their time to fighting off starvation, maybe someone like Vera had used their spare moments to learn more about the illnesses that cut down people like scythes through wheat. Someone, somewhere, could know how long Carter would be communicable.

  And if it wasn’t forever, she was going to find him again. If it was true that there were places where she could do more than gather water and find food every day, then Carter deserved to live that way too. Joss had said it was important to want something, and once Lucy had warmed up to the idea, she refused to make a choice. She could have California and Carter both. She wanted everything.

  “There’s a place coming up called Fort Recovery,” Lynn said, using her handkerchief to wipe the sweat from her brow.

  “I could go for some recovery,” Joss said.

  “Too bad, cause we’ll be going ’round.”

  “Why are we avoiding it?”

  “It’s big,” Lynn answered. “Too big to not have someone in it somewhere.”

  “Do you always think people are a bad thing?” Joss asked.

  “Generally.”

  They wandered off the paved road Lynn had been following, veering onto one patched with potholes. Lucy’s boots had conformed to her own feet fairly quickly, but the blister hadn’t formed a callus yet, and the pink, raw skin still chafed at the end of every day. Picking over the holes in the road wasn’t doing her any favors.

  The grass grew higher than their heads on both sides of the road, arching inward and brushing against their faces as they made their way west. Trees towered overhead, forming a total canopy that cooled the black tar beneath their feet, drying their sweat. The setting sun burned in front of them, sending red rays into their faces.

  Lucy fought a prickle of annoyance when Joss stepped on the back of her heel.

  “Sorry,” Joss muttered from behind her. Lucy waved off the apology, too tired to speak. Even so she couldn’t help but notice that Joss always stayed closer to her if they were in an area that was wooded, or anywhere along the road where cover could hide an attacker.

  She voiced this to Lynn when she was sure they were alone by the stream they found that evening, filling their water bottles.

  “She’s using you for cover,” Lynn said. “Probably figures if anybody pops off a shot at one of us, they’re going to aim for me first, as I’m the leader. You might be smaller, but you’re less likely to be a target. And she knows it.”

  “Nice.” Lucy capped her bottle tightly. “And here I kinda liked her.”

  Lynn shrugged. “She’s doing what’s she’s done her whole life to survive, that’s all. And it could be she just would rather walk with you than me, has you figured for the kind one.”

  “Right. You’re the brawn, I’m brain.” She splashed some water over her face and looked down with distaste at her wet shirtfront. “I was holding out hope, but I think I may have to admit that you’re the boobs of t
his outfit too.”

  Lynn laughed for the first time since the road. “For all the good it does.”

  Their sounds brought Joss down the creek, water bottles in hand. “What’s so funny?”

  Lucy glanced back down at her chest. “Oh, I wouldn’t exactly call it funny,” she said. Lynn laughed again, the sound bouncing back off the water and into the cold, clear night.

  “I got some news for you,” Lynn said to Lucy halfway through the next day.

  “What’s that?”

  “We’re out of Ohio. Have been since we passed Fort Recovery.”

  “Huh,” Lucy said, surveying the land around her. “So we’re in what, Indiana?”

  “Yep,” Lynn said as she readjusted her pack on her shoulders.

  “Indiana is awful flat. So what’s our route?” Lucy asked.

  “Not much in our way. We head due west, and we’ll get to Illinois.”

  “Is it flat?”

  “Not sure.”

  “How’s your water?”

  Lynn reached over her shoulder and into her pack without breaking stride, pulling a half-empty bottle from it. Lucy was down to her last one as well, the water warm from being carried next to her body. She didn’t know how much Joss had left, and their companion wasn’t offering up the information.

  “Will we stop soon?”

  “Soon enough,” Lynn said, shooting Lucy a look that told her not to worry.

  Abandoned fields that had once been farmed for corn and beans were returning to prairie all around them. The greenness of the new grass matched Joss’ eyes and was almost painful to look at as the sun beat down from the cloudless sky. The road was the only mark of past civilization, a streak of black that sliced its way forward, Lucy’s feet doggedly eating up the miles it created.

  Hours later, Lynn broke to the north, tapping Lucy soundlessly on the shoulder and striding off the black and into the green without a word. Lucy followed, and she felt rather than heard Joss move through the tall grass behind her. On the horizon, a streak of darker green broke the skyline.

  “There’s another stream up ahead,” Lynn said. “Be pretty hard to guard every inch of moving water, and I haven’t seen a house for miles.”

  “Can we stop for the night?” Lucy asked, even though the sun was hours away from the horizon. She’d told herself supper from the night before was the last meal she could spare to set some aside for Carter. Her knees threatened to buckle underneath her, and her legs felt like lead. Being on the road was sapping her strength in ways she had never imagined. Life at the pond hadn’t been easy, but there was always energy left over to spend as she pleased, running through overgrown fields with Maddy or chasing after Carter to see who dove into the pond first. Now only stubbornness put one foot in front of the other, and Carter was the one left behind.

  “May as well, but we’ll camp away from the banks, and make no fire.”

  They beat a path to the trees following the meandering route of the little stream, whose water was cold, clear, and unclaimed. The three of them sat in silence on the pebbly bank, Lucy soaking her aching feet.

  “Might want to drink upstream from my feet,” Lucy advised, when Joss cupped a handful of water. She pinched her nose to illustrate her point. “Just saying.”

  Joss smiled and moved upstream. Lynn ignored her as she passed, her eyes once again devouring the map spread across her knees. Lucy wiggled a rock with her toe, and a crawdad shot out from underneath, and then out of sight. The stream curved to the south, where she could see a flash of red clinging precariously to the rocky east bank.

  “Wild strawberries, Lynn,” Lucy said, her mouth watering around the word itself. “Can I go get them?”

  Lynn glanced behind her, to where Joss was lying on her back in the shade, arms crossed behind her head, apparently sleeping. “Take this,” she said, pulling the handgun from her belt. “And keep your head on.”

  “Always,” Lucy said.

  The pressure of Joss’ constant shadow lifted as she put space between them. Lucy felt almost cheerful as she climbed the bank and dropped her pack off to the side, in the tall grass. She tied the corners of her handkerchief together, but the little pouch it made wouldn’t hold even a third of the berries.

  “Guess I’ll have to eat some,” Lucy said, resigned to her fate. She sat in the tall grass and plucked berries one by one, popping them into her mouth and enjoying the warm gush of juice between her teeth.

  Lucy didn’t hear the footsteps behind her, but the distinct sound of her pack being unzipped sent her whirling around to see Joss bent over it, forked ash stick in her hand.

  Joss looked at her, eyes wide. “You’re a dowser.”

  “Nope,” Lucy said, crunching down on a berry and trying to appear casual despite the fear that bloomed in her belly. “I just really like that stick.”

  “Don’t be smart with me,” Joss said, eyes roving up and down the stick. “Teach me how.”

  “It’s not something that can be taught,” Lucy said, not moving to get up. “The man who explained it to me, Stebbs, he was around before the Shortage. He used to tell people where to dig their well in exchange for a case of beer.”

  “And how’d he explain it?”

  “He says it’s not so much about the stick as the person holding it. When the water’s moving underground it makes energy, and if you’re the kind of person that can feel that, the stick responds to it.”

  Despite her words, Joss was still holding the forked ash as if she could wield it herself. “I don’t get it,” she said.

  Lucy shrugged. There was no way to explain the feeling when she came across a vein of water. If it was near the surface, she sometimes didn’t even need her stick to feel the energy coursing through her body, her teeth ringing. “I guess it’s not for you to get then. Why you going through my stuff, anyway?”

  “I was going to fill your bottles for you.”

  “Funny you tossed them over there then, and kept digging in my stuff,” Lucy said, pointing to the empties lying in the grass.

  Joss ignored her, still transfixed on the witching stick. “No wonder she keeps you so close,” she said.

  Lucy felt her jaw tighten. “Lynn keeps me close ’cause she loves me.”

  Joss glanced up at her, through the fork of the ash. “You keep telling yourself that, honey.”

  Lucy snatched her stick from Joss’ hands and gathered her pack. She walked hastily back to camp with the older woman’s footsteps close behind. Clouds had slipped over the sky, bringing a scent of rain with them. Lynn had set up camp in a copse of maples that had seeded themselves so closely that their trunks had each woven into another, twisting their bodies together as they reached for the sun. The branches hung low, providing decent cover, and the locked trunks broke the wind that blew the misting rain.

  Lucy’s instincts screamed for her to tell Lynn that Joss knew she could dowse, but the other woman stayed by her side as they settled in together, all three of them huddled closely for warmth against the cold. Lucy tried to relax as the night wore on, her body drawing heat from both Lynn and Joss on either side of her. She bit her tongue in frustration against the weight of another decision to be made that couldn’t be taken lightly.

  Because once she told Lynn, Joss was dead.

  UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

  HarperCollins Publishers

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

  Eleven

  The bodies swayed in the breeze, the tattered remnants of their clothes slapping against their skin. Their faces weren’t covered, and Lucy couldn’t look away from the nooses. The heavy hanks of rope were buried so deeply in their necks that swollen skin enveloped them.

  “Jesus.” Joss had a handkerchief up to her nose, eyes watering.

  “They do something wrong, you think?” Lucy asked.

  “Doubt it,” Lynn said, eyes running over the three for clues. “Whoever did for them took their shoes. Must’ve wanted
them pretty bad.”

  “They didn’t have shoes.” Joss’ voice was muffled.

  “What’s that?”

  “They didn’t have shoes,” she said, pulling the handkerchief away for the briefest instant before cramming it back against her face. “Those were my people.”

  “Them?” Lucy peered into what was left of the faces. “You were traveling with three men?”

  Joss eyed her over the wadded fabric. “You do what you have to do.”

  “Don’t know what happened here then,” Lynn said. “But it didn’t happen too terribly long ago. We need to be moving on.”

  “We’re not going to cut them down? Bury them?” Lucy asked.

  Lynn glanced at her. “Not today, little one.”

  They left the road they had been traveling for another that ran parallel to it, Lynn’s rifle unstrapped from her back and resting lightly in the crook of her elbow. Lucy followed behind, resisting the urge to touch the butt of the pistol jammed in her waistline. Shaggy woods, dense with undergrowth, shadowed them to the left. The right side of the road was unbroken grass, waving in the breeze. The wind rustled through the trees, and Lucy noticed Joss shift positions to put Lucy between her and the changing shadows playing inside them.

  It was at least ten degrees cooler in the shade of the forest, and Lucy felt goose bumps popping out on her arms. The days had been long and each hotter than the next, as they walked in their unending line. Even so, the coolness of the woods had her looking forward to the bright streak of sun she could see ahead where the trees ended.

  Lynn broke into the sunlight first and immediately stopped, the stiffness in her back making Lucy reach for the pistol. Joss slipped behind her.

  “What? What is it?”

  “It’s . . .” Lynn trailed off, disbelief closing her throat. “It’s corn.”

  Lucy relaxed and Joss let out an audible sigh. “Didn’t know you were scared of corn,” Lucy said.

  “Come see for yourself what I’m scared of.”