Carry the Flame

by James Jaros

  Still, the woman was protecting her, so for now she would stick by her side. To be lost in the black emptiness of the desert—or captured by those killers—frightened her far worse. Judge people by what they do, her mom always said. The hem in Cassie’s hand felt more like a lifeline than even the stars that beckoned her so sweetly minutes ago.

  But she still struggled to keep up, looking back every few steps to make sure they were okay. The darkness, thickened by distance, turned the gun battle into a series of echoing shots and tiny flashes of light.

  “Stop staring,” the woman urged. “It’s only slowing you down. Faster!”

  They started up another dune. Even though climbing over it would put them out of sight of the raiders, the slope rose so sharply Cassie wanted to give up, or at least rest. Her pace did slow. She didn’t have a choice: Sand sucked at her feet, and once again they seemed to sink deeper with every effort.

  “Take big breaths.” The woman knelt beside Cassie. Only then did the child notice she’d stopped moving.

  “I’m sorry.” Cassie’s breath heaved so hard she thought of powerful storms over the Gulf, lightning clawing jagged lines in the gray air, as if behind those dark dead clouds lived a brighter, happier world—if only those crooked fiery fingers could scrape the filth from the sky so the earth could start over again. A second chance. That’s all we need.

  “You sound wheezy,” the woman said. “Do you have asthma?”

  “What’s that?”

  “Probably not, then. Your folks would have mentioned it. I’m sorry I have to push you so hard. It’s not much farther. This is the worst part.” She smiled at Cassie for the first time. Her cheeks were full and dimpled, and her skin looked white in the starlight, not darkened and sapped by the sun. “Trust me.”

  Cassie did trust her. Then she remembered her mom. Not advice from her, or stories about the stars, but her mom’s smile. It made her want her mom more than ever, and though she tried not to cry, her cheeks dampened.

  “What’s your name?” the woman asked.

  Cassie told her. “What’s yours?”

  “Sam.”

  “Like the boy’s?”

  “That’s right.” Sam gently stroked Cassie’s fine hair. “Cassie can be a boy’s name, too.”

  “I know. I like that.” Cassie also liked sharing the distinction with her. It made her feel safer somehow.

  The motorcycle men must have caught up to the cloaked band at the bottom of the dune because Sam’s friends were caught in a crossfire. Gunmen on both sides unloaded for a full sixty seconds. It sounded like forever to Cassie. There was no return fire when the shooting stopped, only shouts.

  Sam buried her face in her hands and started shaking. Her white curls fell forward, covering her grief. Cassie put her arm around the woman’s shoulder, like her mom had hugged her. Sam quickly wiped her eyes.

  “We better go,” she said stiffly.

  “I’m sorry.” Cassie looked down. “I’m getting lots of people killed tonight.”

  “No you’re not. Those men out there are the ones doing the killing.” Sam’s face tightened when she looked toward them. “Not you. Don’t ever think that. We’ve got to go. Can you run now?”

  “Sure,” Cassie said. “How far?”

  “Not much.”

  The woman helped Cassie up, and they hurried to the top of the dune, where they spotted a small fire several hundreds yards away. Nothing else. It made Cassie worry about ghosts again, and Maul lying in the desert all by himself with no one to bury him. She couldn’t stop herself from thinking of beasts that would eat him.

  At least he’s dead.

  They descended the steep side of the dune. Despite her fears, Cassie liked the sand spilling from around her legs until they reached the firmer desert. Then they ran, her strength returning.

  When they neared the fire, she noticed a blank gap in the heavens where the stars had been, their light blocked by a towering structure. It was taller than anything she’d ever seen, except mountains, and had the shape of a huge building. She’d heard of buildings once so tall their tips could disappear into thick clouds. The Empire State Building. People would look through the railings on top and get dizzy. That’s what her mom said. Some even fainted. Maybe that’s what this was, a big building. The possibility excited her. Maybe they were in a city, or what was left of one. Those buildings supposedly survived, sometimes with sand burying the first few floors. But she’d heard they were as empty as the crab shells she and Jenny had found at the Gulf. Their mom had looked at one of the shells and said it was like a little coffin. She was always saying stuff like that. Except the shell had crumbled in Cassie’s hand, and there was nothing inside. She wondered if buildings had become big coffins. Was this one?

  A man rushed toward them with a torch. Cassie reared back, but didn’t let go of Sam’s hand. The woman leaned close to her. “It’s okay. He’s with us.”

  Us? Who’s us? She wasn’t ready for a new “us.” There had been “us” at her camp, “us” at the Army of God with the other captive girls, and “us” on the caravan. What was this new “us?”

  “Did they see her?” the man asked.

  “Maybe,” was all Sam said.

  They hurried closer to the edifice. Cassie looked for an entrance like the ones she’d heard about in cities, with doors that spun around like merry-go-rounds. She’d never seen a merry-go-round, either, but they sounded like so much fun she hoped the desert hadn’t buried the bottom of this building.

  She was terribly disappointed to discover that the tall building was actually stacks of crappy old cars lined up in rows that seemed to go on forever. It was hard to imagine any of them moving on roads, but it was hard to imagine roads, too. She spotted the glow of small fires rising high into the darkness as they rushed along. The hidden flames reddened the faces of the people staring at them. Their eyes looked evil.

  Minutes later the man darted down a row and led Sam and her to the rear of an old truck trailer. It was at the bottom of a tall stack of cars, its doors flush with the vehicles lined up next to it. She wouldn’t have noticed the trailer if the man hadn’t lifted a large metal lever to open it. The doors creaked loudly. As soon as she and Sam stepped inside, he closed them. The trailer was sweltering, and dark as a dead furnace. She heard the lever wedged back into place.

  “We’re locked in,” she whispered to Sam.

  “We don’t want to get out. Not right now.”

  “Where are—”

  A torch flared on the ground directly in front of them, interrupting Cassie’s panicky question and adding to the heat. The flame came to life in such an odd place that she clung to Sam’s leg, as a much younger child might have. After such intense darkness, she had to turn her face away, too. She saw four old jacks supporting the roof against the weight of the cars above it. Otherwise, the trailer was as empty as the crab shells. Another keen disappointment. Against all reason, she hoped to find herself in a building with marble and brass and burnished wood, the beautiful surfaces of a world her mother had described so longingly. With the most dreadful conviction, she knew she would never see that wonderful creation. Instead, the trailer made her feel empty, as if everything inside everything else would soon be eaten by all the other emptiness.

  The torch rose from a wooden hatch set into the sand. The trailer had no floor but desert. A man’s head appeared in the open hatch. His hair had been cut carefully. She had never seen such a thing. He held out the torch, staring at her.

  “Her?” the man said. “That’s who was shooting out there?”

  “Earlier, yes,” Sam said. She tugged gently on Cassie’s shirt. “Let’s go,” leading her to the hatch.

  “I’m Yurgen,” the man said, climbing out. His beard was cropped as closely as his hair, and he wore glasses. Cassie had never seen anyone with clear lenses. “And you’re?”

  “Cassie,” she said, frightened. She wanted to bury her face in Sam’s cloak.

  “Okay, Cassie
girl, take a good look down. This is the ladder. It’s all rope and branch. You won’t have any light going down. I’ve got to put the torch out for the climb. You see that?” He reached down, shifting the ladder from side to side. She peered at it, and saw the rope disappear into darkness. “It sways. There’s no wall to steady it, so watch your step. And we’re missing a rung. You know what that is?”

  Cassie shook her head. Sam explained: “It means you’ll step down and there won’t be anything for your foot. But if you keep reaching down, you’ll find the next rung. We’ll warn you.”

  The man stared at Cassie’s legs. It made her uncomfortable. All her life she’d been taught the warning signs of male interest.

  “She’ll be able to reach it okay,” he said to Sam. “But maybe you should go first, just in case. You can help guide her.”

  Cassie worried about him less now, and more about the missing rung. He might have sensed this because he said, “Really, you’ll be fine. The minute you didn’t get all scared when you looked down, I knew you’d be all right.”

  The girl forced a smile. Yurgen waited for Sam and her to climb on before he snuffed the torch. Much as Cassie liked ladders, this one did indeed sway a lot, and in the sudden blackness it seemed to sway even more. She felt like she was hanging in a vast open space where nothing was real but the rope, branch, and the darkness pressing in from all sides. Like emptiness would eat her, too. Leave her hollow as a husk. Her palms turned greasy, and she death-gripped the ladder, squeezing even harder when Yurgen stepped down.

  His weight jerked them forward. Not much, but it lifted Cassie’s feet higher than her head, and for a moment left her feeling like she was clinging to a ceiling. Her heart hammered mercilessly. The ladder straightened.

  “Ready?” Sam asked just below her.

  “Yes,” she said, voice shaking.

  “You’ll be okay,” Yurgen said from above. “I can pick the winners at the starting gate. You’ll do great.” He closed the hatch.

  Cassie’s stomach lurched. She gulped air and followed Sam, sliding her hands an inch or two at a time, never losing contact with the rope. The ladder swayed with each step they took.

  She could not imagine a blacker or more forbidding place in the world. Seconds later her eyes squeezed shut in anguish. When Sam reached up and touched her foot, Cassie realized she’d stopped moving again.

  “Do you hear that?” Sam asked.

  “Hear what?” Cassie cried softly.

  “Just listen.”

  She held her breath, and the whisper of flowing water rose from the void. Cool, moist air swept over her, lifting the heat from her skin and opening her eyes to the densest darkness she’d ever known.

  Outside the Mayor’s chamber the guard cinched Bliss’s hair tighter around his hand and wrist till it looked snug as a glove. Then the bullishly built man jerked her head so hard roots exploded from her scalp. Her eyes spilled, but she did nothing to try to stop him. He’d almost snapped bones in both her arms when he pinned them behind her back, tying her hands so tight her fingers tingled painfully. Only her feet were free so he could drag her along. Though filled with a furious urge to kick and stomp him to death, she didn’t dare try anything so futile.

  Another guard rushed from the gloom and grabbed her right arm, defeating her last feeble fantasies of escape.

  “She’s going to Section R,” explained the first guard with a smile. “That’s where he wants her.”

  “Hey, he’s got plans for her.” The new guard, tall and lean and blacker than night, hurried ahead, then backpedaled to look her over. “I like you.” He sounded surprised. “I like you a lot. You’re a lucky girl.” Still backing up, he switched his attention to the other warder. “We get first crack?”

  “First ‘crack’? Is that a joke?” He was white, but dark, too, from the sun. “I don’t think we would be her first, would we?” He shook Bliss’s head. More roots ripped out. She wept, unable to stop herself.

  “What was that?” He shook her viciously. She cried out. “I missed that, too,” he yelled. “You say something? You better say something when I ask.”

  “Not my first,” she managed. “Others.”

  The black guard laughed. “They all say that. They don’t know, do they? You’re stupid,” he yelled, still facing her as they moved. “It’s much better if he’s first.”

  He looked past her and she knew he meant the Mayor. Sick with pain, she still worried about Ananda, even more than the other girls stuck with that insane bastard. He might figure out that Ananda was her sister and take vengeance on her. Or he might realize Ananda was the daughter of the woman who defied him outside when the girls were taken away. Then there was Ananda’s health. Would she get enough water? Why does she need all that water? What’s she got?

  “I’m not sure the Mayor’s really going to want this bitch,” the white guard said, hauling Bliss forward. “She tried to kill him.”

  “You did what?” The black guard stopped backpedaling, waited, and walloped her in the stomach with a fist as hard as a stone-headed club. Bliss’s legs folded.

  “Uh-uh.” The white one yanked her upright. Her scalp screamed. “Don’t make me work harder.” Then he pushed the black man away. “And don’t you go damaging the goods. She shows up hurt and you’re fucked. Those guys’ll be eating you alive. I’m not taking the blame.”

  “Look at her face, man. You fucked her over good.” Blood trickled down Bliss’s brow, and she thought she’d vomit from the pain in her belly. “Least you can’t see my shit.”

  “I can wipe that off,” the white guard said. “You go busting up her guts and there’s nothing we can do.”

  But the black guard wasn’t through with her. He shouted at Bliss from inches away, “You try to hurt my man again and I will bite your fucking face off. See how you like that.”

  Spittle landed on her cheeks and eyes. She tried to blink it away. He was still so close his teeth brushed her lips, smearing the top one. She tried to pull her face away, fearing he’d bite them off. The grip on her scalp tightened.

  They turned, hauling her down a corridor formed by more stone torch stands. Night might have fallen. Bliss saw no daylight, but didn’t know whether distant walls blocked a view of the desert.

  She did see a large cage coming up on her right, crowded with women about her age and a few years older. She hoped the guards would leave her there—anything to relieve the agony of her hands and scalp and stomach.

  Bliss looked for a door but all she saw was one large wall made from the same pale bricks she’d seen elsewhere in the City of Shade, with more bones for rebar.

  Bones were also used as bars in the cage, like in prisons. The whole country was packed with prisons near the end, her father had told her a few years ago. They were sitting in their camp on a dry reservoir bed when he said he’d been put in a large federal facility in eastern Oklahoma on terrorism charges, but escaped in an uprising that freed five thousand political prisoners.

  “The U.S. had more prisons than anywhere on earth,” he explained. “Huge ones.”

  But even all those prisons couldn’t keep the richest of the rich safe, he added, because the lone renegade the government and bankers and energy corporations couldn’t control was the earth itself. When they tried—and he said they tried mightily for many years—the entire planet turned into a prison.

  “There’s no escape now, not for anyone.” He had nodded at the reservoir walls surrounding them, and she sensed the torment of his last few words.

  She felt a similar anguish now in the eyes of the young women staring at her through the bars. Bliss had never seen such ruined gazes. What made them like that? They looked starved, like they might tear off her limbs. Not just bony—everybody was scrawny—but gaunt, the sapped look of severe deprivation, of people denied so much for so long their skin seemed ready to turn inside out, to let blood—and blood alone—have its final sway.

  Two of the prisoners reached for her. She saw scabs an
d gashes on both their arms. The black guard whipped out his truncheon, and Bliss heard a bone break, a crack so loud she was unsure whether it belonged to a living woman or skeletal remains. An unbearable scream blasted from feet away, and she knew the answer. Other howls followed, along with painful babbling she couldn’t understand.

  “Wicca,” the white guard said to her, though in a tight voice. “And first chance they get, they’ll give it to you.”

  “Or you,” Bliss spat back. He jerked her arms up till she thought her shoulders would explode. But all he said was “Section R,” like it was much worse than the cage, a simple letter that was more ominous than any taunt.

  They dragged her faster, and she felt their unnerving excitement in the quickening pace. The horrors of the cage faded as a plume of torch smoke scorched her lungs. She coughed so hard her chin banged against her chest. She couldn’t look up until they slowed down.

  The smoky corridor ended at a walled room. Two guards with Asian facial features stepped from the sides of the entrance and opened a set of double doors. One of them grabbed a torch from a stand as Bliss was pushed into a fully enclosed amphitheatre with tiered earthen benches. Manacles hung from varying heights on a brick wall at the rear of the stage.

  She made a frantic effort to back away, already sensing the worst. But the black guard who’d punched her now jammed his elbow into her jaw and smashed her shin with his club. Sharp pain shot up her leg so fast she shrieked and lost her balance. The white guard seized her throat to keep her upright. She found her footing, dimly aware that her leg wasn’t shattered, and tried to move her mouth. She couldn’t. The white guard yelled at the black one.

  “Better hope you didn’t break that.”

  One of the Asian guards untied her hands. Manacles were clamped around her wrists and ankles. Pain receded from her shoulders and scalp, and her fingers came to life slowly. Her jaw was still numb.

  The four guards stared at her. The white guy shook bloody clumps of hair from his hand and said, “Yeah, she’s a keeper all right.”