Bright Star

I tapped Baruj’s shoulder. He rolled a bit and groaned. “Is it night yet?”

  “I heard something. A cab, I think.”

  His dark eyes shot open, and his face locked into focus. “I hear it, too,” he said after a long moment.

  “What should we do?”

  “What can we do? Stay quiet. Stay down. Maybe they haven’t seen us. We’re not carrying anything they can track.”

  I tried to stay quiet, but my heartbeat wasn’t cooperating. It slammed against my ribs, thundering and roaring with each beat. The shadow of a hovercab raced along the ground, passed right over us in a brief eclipse. I twitched.

  Baruj grabbed my shoulder and whispered. “If they’d seen us, we would know. Hang on another minute.” I watched the cab crisscross overhead a few more minutes, then finally shoot back toward the outpost.

  Baruj sighed in relief as the hovercab sped off. “Try to sleep, Sadira. You’ll be glad for the rest.”

  Try to sleep. How could I sleep if Central cabs were trying to track us? I lay there, staring up at the blanket. I could see the blue sky through the weave of the cloth, see the sun blazing overhead. I turned my head. Baruj was already asleep.

  I pulled the crystal radio, the device Papa had left for me, out of my dress pocket. I held it up to the light streaming through the blanket, but it remained dim and quiet. Dr. DeWitt told me it was the key to finding Papa, but I didn’t see how it would help yet. I tucked it back into my pocket and sighed. Try to sleep. No way I was sleeping right then. I kept my eyes open, but tried to let my mind relax. Slowly, inexorably, the sky overhead melted and burned, the rich blue turning to a flame orange as the sun sank below the horizon. Purple and navy streaks quelled the fire, pressing it closer and closer to the edge of the earth. This is what the Wall had been hiding. This is what I missed after curfew. I had never seen so much of a sunset before.

  I nudged Baruj. “Look.”

  “Hmm?” He leaned forward, propping himself up on his elbows. His hands went straight to his eyes, rubbing away the last of his sleep.

  “At the sky. Look.” The yellows and oranges and reds and blues danced together, mixed and mingled into a shifting rainbow.

  “Oh, it’s almost night. Are you ready to walk?”

  I glimpsed at the dusky sky again, sighing. If Baruj couldn’t appreciate its beauty, that was his loss. I kept my eyes fixed on the rich swirls of stars lighting the sky. Timothy would have stared at them with me. “I’m ready to walk, but let’s call Dr. DeWitt first.”

  We crawled out from under the blanket into the cool night air. I yanked the radio off of the side of my knapsack and flipped it on. “Dr. DeWitt? It’s Sadira. Can you hear me?”

  Something clanged in the background, then Dr. DeWitt came on. “Yes, dear, I can hear you. Are you well?”

  “We’re fine. We only saw one cab, and that was a few hours ago. How are you two doing?”

  “We managed to get out of the city as well. I think you should be clear of surveillance for the night. The last blip said that Central was searching east of Samalut this evening.”

  There was a rustling on the other end of the radio, then Dr. DeWitt’s voice. “Timothy’s asked to speak to you, Sadira.”

  Baruj took a few steps back and turned around, pulling his canteen out of his knapsack.

  “Sadira?” Timothy’s voice came over the radio.

  “I’m here.”

  “I just wanted to hear how you were doing.” I bit my lip in frustration and embarrassment. I had told Dr. DeWitt how we were doing, but I guessed he needed to hear it for himself. The gesture was sweet, I decided, and I grinned.

  “I’m tired. My feet are a bit sore, but otherwise I’m fine. How are you?”

  “We’re holed up in some kind of bunker. This thing has got to be from the pre-Central times. It’s completely archaic. I mean, light switches and everything. Nothing’s voice activated. But it’s safe enough, I suppose.” He paused, sighing. “I wish I could be there with you.”

  The simple statement sent hot blood rushing through my veins. “I wish you could be here, too. I’ll bet you’ve never seen stars like these. It’s beautiful. Maybe Dr. DeWitt will let you peek outside.”

  “Probably not tonight. We’ve heard a couple of cabs come by this area. Maybe tomorrow.”

  “Timothy?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Have you heard anything about Amina, or the Nagis, or your family?”

  A very long silence followed, finally broken by Dr. DeWitt.

  “We don’t know yet, dear,” he said. “We’ve been listening to Central’s radio frequency. They picked up a few people for interrogation, but didn’t state names over the radio.”

  Interrogation? I remembered the trapped feeling in that stark room, the anger from the Colonel and Captain Berings. They threatened to exclude me. What if they hurt Amina, or Mrs. Nagi?

  “You’ll tell me if you hear anything?” I asked. I had to know if they were safe.

  “Of course,” Dr. DeWitt said. “I’ll keep listening in, and we’ll try to help everyone we can.”

  Timothy’s voice came over. “We’ll make sure they’re safe. You find your papa.”

  “Thank you.” I knew that Timothy and Dr. DeWitt might not be able to help, but knowing that they would try took the edge off my worry.

  “Be safe.” said Timothy.

  I smiled, then frowned when I remembered Timothy wasn’t there to see me smile. Timothy made my head swim and my chest tighten in a good way. A very good way.

  “I’ll try. You be safe, too.”

  There was silence on the other end. I thought the radio had cut off for a moment, but then Timothy sputtered, “Goodnight.”

  I heard the rustling noise again, and Dr. DeWitt came back on the line. “As far as I can tell from Central’s communication, you two should be safe to travel through the night. If I hear anything different, I’ll let you know.”

  “Thank you.”

  “May God put courage in our hearts,” he said, simply. “I have a feeling we’ll need it. Goodnight, dear.”

  “Goodnight.”

  The radio exhaled a crackle, then silenced. Baruj walked back over, bemusement spread across his narrow face in the form of a smug smile.

  “I could see you blushing from way over there.”

  I felt my face grow hot. “It’s sunburn. I was not blushing.”

  “You’re blushing right now. You like him, don’t you?”

  “Maybe. I think so.” My mind was in a whirl. I knew there were other things to think about, like finding Papa, but Timothy had crept into every corner of those thoughts.

  “You could do worse, you know.” Baruj nudged me with his elbow, teasing.

  “I know. I could end up with you.”

  Baruj’s eyes widened, then he doubled over in a fit of laughter. “I guess I deserved that. It’s none of my business.”

  “It really isn’t,” I said flatly.

  Baruj squared his shoulders and lifted his chin. He had been clean-shaven that morning, but a dark shadow traced the line of his jaw. “I’m sorry if I offended you.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Offending me should be the least of your worries. Let’s grab some food and water and then move.”

  Baruj folded the blanket back up into an impossibly tiny square and stuffed it into his knapsack. He downed a few gulps from his canteen, and popped food into his mouth, barely pausing to chew. I switched on the lightband on my wrist, surrounding my hand in a halo of cool blue light. I pulled out my canteen and the food Dr. DeWitt had packed for us—crackers and tough jerky, salty food that made my mouth even more desperately dry. I had been hungry earlier in the day, but the hunger had vanished and was replaced with thirst. I threw the food back into my knapsack. I could always eat more later.

  We set off again. The badlands at night was nothing like the badlands during the day. The air cooled quickly, but the sand remained warm against my feet. Stars began spilling into the night sky, silvery whi
te dust sprinkled on an indigo scarf. A ribbon of milky white and purple twisted through the air. I had always been inside at night, cooped up during curfew hours. I stared openly at the sky and gaped. It was so big, so full, so beautiful. Now and then a bright streak of red raced across it. I pointed one streak out to Baruj.

  “That’s one of the orbital colonies,” he said.

  I knew there were metal cities floating in the sky filled with other Central citizens, but the idea had always seemed so remote before, only a video on the view-screen. Seeing them shoot across the sky, nearly invisible from that distance, made me feel small.

  Baruj’s warm, steady hand grabbed mine, and I felt a bit bigger and stronger. We walked hand in hand, all night, our lightbands projecting blue spirits that danced on the sand. The cool night air felt delicious on my skin, a welcome relief from the heat earlier. Our path was monotonous at first, endless identical dunes sweeping before us. After a few hours, the dunes finally gave way to rockier terrain. Ghoulish outcrops of white stone haunted the empty landscape, twisted and turned in bizarre silhouettes.

  It was silent, so silent in the badlands—I could hear the crunch of my feet on the sand, hear Baruj’s heavy, raspy breathing as we continued walking. My legs, feet, and back grew tired, exhausted from the journey. A few hours more and the indigo sky faded into lilac, then a pale crisp blue. Soon it was morning. The blazing sun ate the ribbons and clusters of stars, leaving only an endless blue sky. The morning light reflecting on the sand became blinding, and the hot sand burned my toes.

  “We need to find a shelter,” I said. “I can’t see anything, and it’s starting to get hot.”

  “Where do you want to stop?” Baruj bent over his knees, panting.

  I turned slowly and scanned the horizon. In the distance, I spotted a plateau with a small hollow at the base. “There.” I pointed. “Maybe we could get a bit of shade beside it.”

  Baruj checked his map and compass. “It’s a little bit off course, but it looks like it’s the best thing out here. Let’s keep walking then.” He made a few marks on the map to adjust for our new heading and then grabbed my hand.

  Though the plateau had seemed nearby when I first spotted it, it never seemed to grow any closer. We walked for nearly ten minutes before reaching its base. I felt withered, and salt was collecting on my neck where my sweat had already dried.

  We walked around the perimeter of the plateau. There was a small outcropping that gave a bit of shade. “Let’s hole up here, and then we’ll walk when the sun starts to set.” Baruj grabbed his canteen to take another sip, but looked surprised when he put it to his lips. “I’m empty. Can I have some of yours?”

  I had been trying to save my water like Dr. DeWitt instructed us, but my canteen was almost empty as well. I hesitated for a moment, and then handed it to Baruj. He took a quick sip and swished the water around in his mouth. I grabbed the canteen from him and gave it a quick shake. There was hardly anything left. I took another small sip and let the water momentarily relieve the dryness in my mouth.

  Everything on me felt dry. My skin had a film of dust and salt from my sweat; my hands were drawn and cracked. Even my eyes felt thick with dirt.

  I settled down under the outcropping, pulling the khaki robe over my eyes to block out the bright sunlight. I had a splitting headache, and my feet were becoming blistered from all of the walking. I laid my knapsack on the ground and rested my head on it. Baruj set his knapsack down at the entrance of the small cave and then lay down beside me.

  I grabbed the radio from my bag and flipped it on. It squealed for a moment, then Timothy answered.

  “Sadira?”

  “Yes, it’s me.”

  He breathed a sigh of relief. “How are you?”

  “Same as yesterday, just more tired and more thirsty. We walked all night. We just stopped for a rest.”

  “I’m jealous. I’ve been cooped up inside all day. I think I’m going to go crazy.” I could hear his foot tapping on the floor in the background.

  “Don’t get too jealous,” Baruj called out. “I’d give my right arm for some cold water right now.”

  Timothy snorted. “I guess I should be glad.”

  “Have you heard any new blips from Central?”

  “Not much. It was quiet most of the night. The last thing we heard was that they were sending a team south to search. You should still be in the clear, since you’re mostly going west.”

  “What about Amina, or Mrs. Nagi, or your family?”

  Timothy sucked his teeth. “Central’s been pulling people in and out of interrogation all day, block by block. No one’s been excluded yet.”

  My relief was momentary. Yet. No one has been excluded yet. I prayed with all my heart it stayed that way.

  “Good,” said Baruj. “We need to rest now so we can walk more tonight. Call us if you hear anything new from Central.”

  Timothy’s next words sounded forced. “Of course. Keep safe.”

  “We will.” Baruj grabbed the radio and flipped it off.

  My mouth felt sour. “What did you do that for?”

  “Do what?” asked Baruj, feigning innocence.

  “Cut off Timothy like that.”

  He frowned, his smirk turning into a scowl. “You need to be resting and keeping your mind clear. We don’t know what’s up ahead. It’s best—”

  “Why should you get to decide what’s best for me?” I snatched the radio back.

  “Because. Just because. I’m older, for one thing. Wiser.” It was a lame argument, and from the expression on Baruj’s face, I could tell he knew that.

  “You have people to go home to. If I don’t find Naeem—” He quickly changed the subject. “We both need to rest. We’re getting irritable. I think that’s a sign of dehydration or something.”

  He settled back down on the ground, shifting the knife on his belt and curling himself up. “Sweet dreams, Sadira.”

  I was too angry to sleep. Within a minute, he was fast asleep, his face relaxed and calm. He looked so different asleep than awake, serene instead of sarcastic, peaceful instead of petulant. It didn’t seem fair that he could just immediately drop off.

  I grabbed my tablet from my knapsack and flipped it on. If I couldn’t sleep, I could at least read some more of Papa’s notes.

  The first thing that popped up was not his notes, however. It was my reading assignment for history. I blinked back a few tears as I read through the notes. Had it only been a few days since I sat with Amina and Timothy? Since I cooked dinner with Mrs. Nagi?

  Crying doesn’t solve problems. Action does.

  I shook my head. I was doing everything I could, and I trusted Dr. DeWitt and Timothy to help those still in Samalut. Baruj was right about one thing. I had to keep my head clear. I switched back over to Papa’s notes.

  I tapped through a menu and into the list of files I downloaded from Papa’s tablet. I had read a few of the files, but they didn’t seem to contain anything noteworthy, only bits of projects from his work at Central. I scrolled down a bit and tried opening a different file instead.

  That one contained schematics for a new hovercab; the next had some crude drawing of a more powerful reactor coil arrangement. I paused for a moment, studying the twists of metal tubes that fed antimatter into the engine, then skipped to the next file.

  I paused. This one wasn’t an image at all. It seemed to be a story. Several stories, actually. I started skimming through them. Most were about oracles and witches, people seeing things in the future, or hearing voices. Bizarre. I couldn’t remember Papa ever reading anything but technical documents. Even when I was little, Papa would read to me about the ships he was building and the places the ships would fly to.

  Even odder, as I read farther along in the stories, I noticed each legend had something in common. Crystals. I scrolled to the bottom, where Papa had typed in a handful of notes in his usual sparse style.

  Legends?

  Divination or communication?
>
  How to speak across continents?

  Entangled elements—how to harness them?

  I scrolled down a bit more to an article on entanglement theory. It was over my head, but the gist of it was that pre-Central government scientists had found a way to link diamonds, so that if one crystal vibrated, the other would too, even if it were in a different room.

  And then the research stopped, just like Papa’s notes in that file.

  I flipped excitedly to the next file, hoping to find some sort of schematic, an explanation for how the crystal radio worked. Instead, I found a mishmash of equations and drawings, something I couldn’t make heads or tails of.

  I sighed, flipped off the tablet, and shoved back into the knapsack. I mashed down my bag to make a sort of pillow. Baruj kept snoring away, and I knew if I had any hopes of walking later that night, I would have sleep, too.

  .

  It was restless, fitful sleep. I was too hot, too dry, and everything was too bright.

  I was in my father’s room, curled in the corner, my face buried in my hands. Papa would be here any minute. And then the window became bright, bright, brighter...

  The light woke me up, and I found myself staring into the setting sun. Baruj was still fast asleep, snoring gently. I shook him awake.

  “The sun’s setting. Time for us to move.”

  He groaned, stretching his arms high above his head. “Sure thing.” He rubbed his eyes, and slowly walked to the front of the cave. “Did you move my bag, Sadira?”

  “No. I just woke up.”

  “Then where is it? I left it right here.” I could see a depression in the sand where his bag had sat and right behind it, a series of footprints. Bare footprints. Both Baruj and I wore shoes. He glanced at me, his face blanched.

  My stomach sank. “I don’t think we’re alone here.”

  “No kidding. Grab your bag. We’re leaving right now.”

  He didn’t have to tell me twice. The idea of someone creeping over here while we slept was unsettling.

  Baruj pulled the satchel with the map and compass out from under his gown. “Thank God I kept this on me instead of in the bag.” He studied the map for a moment and then pointed. “This way.” He scratched his chin, now bristling with the black stubble of a beard.

  He grabbed my hand again. As annoyed as I had been a few hours earlier, I was now grateful for the protective gesture. Baruj’s hand felt strong and safe. He gave my hand a gentle squeeze, and a bit of my fear left me. “We’ll have to be more careful. Sleep in shifts. But we’ll find your Papa.”

  “And Naeem,” I reminded him.

  “And Naeem. You’d like him. He’s as serious as you are.”

  “Not crazy like you?”

  Baruj smiled. “Not even close. He wanted to be a pilot since he was a baby. All he ever talked about was joining Central Air Services, and he kept his nose in the books to pass his flight tests.” Baruj’s smile shifted. His eyes watered. Papa had been in my thoughts so much the past week that I hadn’t even considered what Baruj was going through. His clenched jaw and pained eyes made it obvious. He must miss his brother, too.

  “What about your mama and papa?”

  He sighed. “They told Naeem flying was against God’s will. Our father wanted him to be a priest, kept trying to force him to take religion classes. Naeem moved out as soon as he turned eighteen. I left pretty soon after that, too.”

  He seemed upset, so I changed the subject. “How far away are we?”

  Baruj pulled the map back out and flicked on his lightband to study it in the quickly fading daylight. “This X here is the plateau. This X over here is the last broadcasted coordinates of the hovership. We’re still about 80 km away. We have another two days of walking.”

  I sighed. “I wish we still had the cab.”

  He let out a groan. “You and me both. My legs are aching, and I’d like some distance between us and whoever took my bag. Can I have a bit more of your water?”

  I handed him my canteen. Baruj took a tiny sip and handed the canteen back to me. “There’s still a little left.”

  I tipped the canteen back and let the last few swallows of water slide down my throat. That was all of our water, and we still have two more days of walking.

  Fear seeped into my voice. This was the thing I feared—my body lost in the badlands, baked under the harsh sun. “We’re out of water. I’m all dried out, and my feet are sore.” I started to sob, but I was so dehydrated the tears wouldn’t even form.

  Baruj motioned to my feet. “Let me see them.” I lifted my right foot for him, and he gingerly grabbed my ankle. The quick breath of air he took in told me the pain wasn’t in my head.

  “You should have spoken up earlier, Sadira. Your foot is past blistered. Dammit.”

  “Don’t use that word.”

  “You should be using that word. Dammit! Your foot is bleeding! I don’t think you’ll be able to walk much more, and I can’t carry you for the rest of the trip.” Baruj sunk to the ground, raking his fingers through his hair. “Let me think.”

  I took a closer look at my feet. Blisters swelled wherever my sandal straps crossed my feet, and a few of the blisters had popped, leaving bloody crisscrosses. I turned my head aside. It was worse than I had realized. I had tried to ignore the discomfort, but now that I stared at my feet, the pain was undeniable. We couldn’t stop here, not now, not without water. Walking was the only option.

  “I can walk,” I said defiantly. “Hand me your knife.”

  Baruj stared at me blankly for a moment, then grabbed the knife off of his belt. “Here.”

  I cut a strip of fabric off the bottom of my robe. I unstrapped my sandals, which stuck to my broken skin, and carefully patted down the sore spots. I wound the cloth tightly around both of my feet, wincing each time the cotton touched a cut on my foot. I cinched the cloth into a knot and stood. I could still feel a dull ache in my feet, but it wasn’t intolerable.

  “There,” I said, casting my sandals to the side. “Let’s go.”

  Baruj shook his head. “You’re the most hard-headed person I know.”

  “And you’re the rudest.”

  “Sadira, I didn’t mean—”

  “Let’s go. Which direction?”

  Baruj double-checked his map and compass, then pointed.

  “That way.”

  I nodded and began walking. My feet were still tender, but the fabric actually felt much better on my skin than the leather sandals. I marched, fierce and determined. I could walk all night like this. That night, I ignored the stars littering the sky and focused only on the steps ahead. Each time I raised and lowered my foot, I came that much closer to finding Papa, to setting things right. Baruj scrambled to keep up.

  I kept my hand in my pocket, feeling the corners of the crystal radio. Somewhere out there was Papa, and Naeem, and Ben. I squeezed the small cube tightly, praying for some way to find them. It vibrated gently in my hand.

  Was it on?

  I pulled it from my dress and stared at the box in my hand. Even in the darkness of the night, it glowed dimly and hummed.

  Baruj paused, staring at the crystal inside.

  “Did it say anything?”

  “No. But it wasn’t making any noise before.”

  He peered closer at the box, his face illuminated by the soft white light. “What do you think it means?”

  A surge of hope rushed through me. “I think it means we’re on the right track.”

  .

  The moon had crossed half of the sky when I collapsed.

  My feet were beginning to ooze under the bandages, soaking the fabric with blood and pus. My mouth felt as dry and grainy as the sand that surrounded us. I tried to breathe through my nose to conserve moisture, but it was as if all of the water in my body had been removed. If only I had one more sip in my canteen...

  I stumbled and quickly caught myself.

  Baruj jumped. “Sadira! Are you okay?”

  “I’m f
ine.” I winced as I put weight back on my feet. I didn’t feel fine, didn’t feel close to fine, but if I wanted to find Papa I couldn’t stop. “Let’s keep moving.”

  Baruj studied me uncertainly, but continued forward. I stumbled again.

  “Dammit, Sadira!”

  “Don’t use that word.”

  Baruj licked his chapped lips. “I can say what I damn well please. If God has a problem with it, I’m sure he’ll let me know.” He bent over and in one swift motion, threw me over his shoulders.

  “Put me down!” I hated the way he made me seem helpless, like an infant. I tried to struggle against his grip, but my arms flailed limply, harmlessly.

  “You can’t walk.”

  “Then I’ll crawl.”

  “What happens when your hands and knees become raw?”

  I thought for a moment. “I’ll roll.”

  Baruj groaned. “If you’d stay still, it would be a whole lot easier to carry you.” I stopped struggling. Baruj readjusted me on his shoulders and kept marching forward.

  My body jerked with every step he took. I tried to study our surroundings to keep from growing angry that I was just a useless potato sack on his shoulders. The pale sand and rocks gleamed endlessly in the moonlight. A terrible thought filled my head. The badlands will outlast me, will outlast Baruj. We will never finish our journey.

  That horrible image, my desiccated body stretched under the desert sun, sprang to mind once more. I turned my eyes to the stars and caught sight of another red streak. I knew now that it was no shooting star to be wished upon, but one of the orbital colonies. Perhaps I could still make a wish.

  Please help us live through this journey.

  The stream of scarlet quickly faded, and I wondered if anyone had heard my plea.

  .

  After about fifteen minutes, Baruj fell to his knees, wheezing. “I can’t carry you any farther. Not without more water.”

  We both lay on the ground, weak and weary. I kept moving my tongue around in my mouth, willing some saliva to relieve the dryness. None came.

  I closed my eyes and thought of Papa. What would he do if he were in my shoes? Would he give up here?

  No, Papa would never give up. He was a Pascal, and so was I. As long as I tried, as long as I had faith and courage, I could keep going.

  God, put courage in my heart.

  I felt a bit of strength return to my arms and legs. I rolled over on my hands and knees and began crawling up the dune.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I’m going to find Papa!” I kept crawling, one hand, one knee, next hand, next knee. Baruj rolled over and stumbled up the dune next to me.

  I crawled down the side of the dune, and there was a freshness to the air I hadn’t noticed before. It was clean, damp.

  “Do you smell that?”

  Baruj nodded.

  “Water,” he said with a grin. He jumped up to his feet with a sudden surge of strength and easily climbed the next dune.

  “Sadira, it’s right over here! Water!”

  New energy coursed through my body, and I pushed myself off the ground. I tottered uneasily on my feet, but pushed myself forward anyway. Thank you, God.

  At the bottom of the next dune was a small crack in the earth, no longer than five meters, with murky water bubbling out. A few short, scraggly palm trees surrounded the pool.

  The water was shallow and opaque, filled with sand and grit, but surprisingly cool. I splashed it on my face and felt the cold drops trickle down my neck. Baruj wet his hair, then began slurping the water out of his cupped hands.

  “I knew we’d make it through.” He took another long drink of water from his hands. “Fill your canteen, then we’ll clean off your feet.”

  I took a few greedy slurps of water, then slowly filled my canteen, trying to keep from getting too much sand in the container. Baruj crawled over to me and unknotted the cloth around my feet.

  The fabric stuck to my skin, and as he pulled it off, my feet started to bleed anew. He gave a low whistle.

  “I don’t know how you walked as long as you did.” He splashed water over my foot, and I cringed.

  “That stings.”

  “We have to clean it off. I’ll try to be gentle.” He gave a few more splashes of water. Each cool droplet hurt a bit less than the last. I could feel the hot, sticky blood flow down my feet, but didn’t dare look. Baruj dried my foot delicately with the edge of his gown. “We should rest here tonight. We can wash your foot bindings and sleep.”

  I nodded in agreement. The moon was settling back down for the night, the dove gray whispers of dawn clung to the horizon. “Let’s do that.”

  I lay my head down on the sand, no longer caring how gritty or dusty my hair became. We found water. We could find Papa. My lips were still chapped and flaking, but my mouth was no longer dry. I closed my eyes, and for the first time in days, I relaxed. The cool sand felt delicious against my overheated skin, and the water ebbed rhythmically beneath my feet. I let go of the past week and breathed, falling into an easy sleep.

  “Sadira,” whispered Baruj hoarsely. “You need to get up, but move very slowly.”

  I opened my tired eyes. The sun was beaming almost directly overhead. It was nowhere near dark, nowhere near time for me to be waking up. I rolled my head to the side and saw Baruj’s tanned face tight with fear. I scooted upward, propping myself up against my elbows.

  Beyond the stubby palm trees were six scrawny, mangy, exhausted wild dogs. Dusty brown fur matted against their thin bodies. One dog’s ear was half-gone, a wilted, scarred reminder of the flesh that was once there. Their eyes were hungry, promising violence, and we smelled like food.

  Amina had a dog, a miniature whippet that would dance around our feet and beg for his head to be scratched. These dogs looked nothing like him. They danced around the sand to study us, to find our weaknesses. Teeth bared, they started closing in.

  I held my breath until my lungs felt like they would explode. I had heard that a dog could smell fear on you. If that was the case, I was sure I reeked. I slowly backed my feet toward my bottom and rose to a low crouch.

  The biggest dog, with a patch of black fur on his face and demonic yellow eyes, let out a deep growl.

  I fought the urge to run and continued my slow crawl back. Baruj did the same.

  “Good boy,” muttered Baruj. “Good, good boy. Stay right there.”

  As Baruj backed up the dune, he slipped and fell, letting out a small shout. The alpha dog snapped and charged. Baruj entered full panic mode.

  “Run, Sadira!”

  Where could I run to? The dogs could all easily outrun me, especially with how my feet were feeling. I froze, staring wide-eyed as the dogs charged at us.

  Baruj pulled the knife from his belt and began slashing away. The black-faced dog lunged, catching his arm in a vice-like grip. The dog thrashed wildly, swinging its head side to side. Baruj screamed and stabbed at the dogs in a frenzy, fighting to get the dog off his arm.

  Three other dogs began circling me. I snatched my knapsack off the ground beside me and beat the dogs with it.

  My first swing connected solidly with the dog with the missing ear. He fell flat on his back and whimpered. I felt sorry for a moment, but a second dog leaped at me. I brought the pack in front of my face just in time. The dog’s teeth sunk into the suede bag instead of my shoulder, and I began kicking it. The other two dogs held back, waiting for an opening to lunge again.

  In the chaos, my fire-starter fell out of my bag. The memory of Dr. DeWitt lighting it up flashed in my mind, so reached for it and flicked it on, shoving it in the dog’s face. I caught its eye.

  The dog howled terribly as its fur caught on fire. It ran whimpering through the oasis, a screaming torch with legs, hitting dried palm fronds and igniting them. Thick gray smoke filled the air, stinging my eyes and blinding me. Through the haze, I could see that the dogs attacking Baruj turned, facing their new threat. Me. Two more
pairs of sinister yellow-brown eyes faced me, the dogs’ teeth bared. They were lunging, coming for me, coming for my throat, coming for a meal. I kept swinging my pack and the lit fire-starter, and after lighting another dog on fire, the remaining pack turned tail and ran. The dog I hit in the eye lay motionless on the ground, a withered piece of charcoal, as well as the two others that Baruj had stabbed.

  I ran over to Baruj. His arm was shredded and bleeding profusely. I opened my canteen and slowly poured the water over his arm. He roared as soon as the cold water touched his broken skin.

  I refilled my canteen and rinsed his arm several more times. The clumps of fur and grime that had been stuck to his skin rinsed off.

  The smoke stung my eyes and throat. I pulled my gown over my mouth, and Baruj did the same. How can I stop the flames? The smoke made a dark streak in the sky, a blemish on an otherwise clear day. Someone would certainly spot us.

  I tried approaching the flames, but the heat stung my skin. Water. I vaguely remembered learning that water put out fires, but nobody used fire in Samalut. The foreign flames licked higher and higher, fanning out across the oasis. I splashed some water from the pool onto the flames. It hissed, shooting out a stream of hot steam. One tiny flame flickered out of existence, but on the other side of the oasis, two more shot up.

  There was no way I could splash enough water to kill the flames, and I could feel the smoke filling my lungs. I coughed out the ashy air. We’d have to move. I kneeled behind Baruj, reached under his arms, and dragged him up the dune, away from the hazy smoke. With his good hand, he clutched mine and squeezed tightly, pulling me to sit beside him.

  “You saved my life,” he said.

  “You saved mine, too.”

  Baruj scrounged for his knife and wiped the dogs’ russet blood off on his gown, leaving scarlet streaks on the khaki cloth. He handed the blade to me. “Use this if they come back.”

  I gulped. The knife felt heavy in my hand. Its blade shone. I tried to imagine the knife slipping through the skin of a dog, slicing its flesh, tearing muscle from bone. The thought turned my stomach. I prayed that the dogs stayed away. I glanced over the oasis. The trees around the pool writhed and twisted in the flames, sending up steady streams of smoke.

  Baruj lay his head down, wheezing. His breath had become short and shallow.

  “Are you okay?”

  He waved his hand. “I need to rest.” He coughed a few times, then closed his eyes.

  I touched his forehead. His skin felt clammy, his olive face gradually turning white. I knew I had to stop the bleeding, but the skin looked so torn and raw that I was afraid to touch him. What if I make it worse? “Baruj? Baruj? Try to stay awake.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He opened his eyes, but it seemed to take a lot of effort.

  The smoke from the fire continued to swirl around us, and its acrid smell stuck to my hair and gown. It was already hot outside, and the fire made it even more uncomfortable. We couldn’t stay here, not for long. The smoke filled the bright blue sky, a sharp contrast to the clear air. Someone even ten kilometers away would see this. Central would see this. Baruj’s eyes threatened to close, and his breath rasped in his chest. Could he walk? I doubted it. Could I carry him? I doubted that even more. Even with the rest and water, my muscles ached.

  In the distance, a shadow appeared. At first, it was an wavering line floating above the ground, but soon the line became arms, legs, a body.

  The desert surrounded me, vast, empty, with nowhere to hide. The smoke had called someone here, and that person was sure to see us. I just hoped that person wasn’t wearing a khaki uniform.

  As the figure drew nearer, it was clear that the person wasn’t wearing a khaki uniform. Not a Central soldier. I relaxed, but only for a moment, before recalling Baruj’s missing pack. What if the person robbed us, or hurt us? My breath stuck in my throat.

  The shadowy shape was a girl, perhaps a few years older than me, clad in a tan robe that stopped just below her knees. Most of her skin was covered by the gown, but the stretches I could see around her feet, her hands, and her calves lumped into unnatural shapes. Her legs resembled the trunk of a cedar tree, rough and uneven. Despite the scorching sand, she didn’t wear shoes at all. I gasped at the sight of her. The girl smiled widely, and though she appeared frightening before, her white, toothy grin looked trustworthy. A silver canteen dangled from a strap over her shoulder.

  I started sputtering. “I tried—we were attacked, and the fire got so hot...” The flames below continued to lick at the trees, consuming them with their white-hot appetite.

  The girl recoiled. “Attacked? By who? Where are they?” Her words tumbled out in a sharp, clipped accent.

  Baruj coughed. “There was a pack of dogs.” He pointed to a charcoal carcass on the ground.

  The girl nodded solemnly. “The dogs will not return. We can’t have this fire drawing attention, though.” She walked closer to the oasis and kicked piles of sand onto the fire, slowly crushing it out of existence. That was all it took? I felt like an idiot for splashing uselessly in the pool.

  After the bulk of the fire had been squashed by sand, the girl began stamping her lumpy feet against the remaining rogue flames.

  “Doesn’t that hurt?” I asked. “The fire, I mean.”

  “Your skin, maybe. I am tough. Nothing can hurt me.” She flipped her long braid over her shoulder. Her hair was the same glossy color as the hoverships, a deep black that glittered against the flickering flames. I studied her face. The scaly bumps on her skin carved a path up her neck and along one ear, but left most of her face untouched. Her face was strong, proud, assured—beautiful. The word seemed odd to pair with her deformed body, but it was true, nonetheless. A raw, ruthless beauty.

  I pointed to Baruj. “He’s hurt badly. Can you help us?”

  The girl walked over to Baruj and poked her finger in the fresh wound. I gasped. What kind of person would do that? Baruj’s eyes shot open for a moment, and he howled in pain. The girl picked up his arm, sniffed it, then felt his neck for a pulse.

  She tutted. “If you were tough like me, this would not happen. You are too delicate. But I can find you help. Can you walk?”

  Baruj’s skin was becoming paler by the minute, stark white under his dark hair. I was afraid he wouldn’t be able to stand, but he somehow stumbled to his feet. “Point the way.” His voice was weak.

  The girl nodded, her dark eyes serious. “Follow me.”

  I strapped on my knapsack, then stepped over to Baruj and placed his left arm over my shoulder. He put his weight down on me, lifting each foot slowly. I was sore everywhere. My feet hurt. My head still hurt, and my arms were burning from the effort of fighting off the dogs. But Baruj needed me to walk, and I needed to support him.

  The girl ran ahead. “It’s not far! Come on!” She dashed forward out of sight, then jogged right back to us. “You’re not moving fast enough.” She bent over, laced her arm through Baruj’s legs, and flipped him on her back, before walking off. What a strange girl. I couldn’t have lifted him like that, not even if I had been well rested and well fed. Even though she was burdened with Baruj’s body, I barely matched the girl’s pace.

  We walked for five minutes or so, and the girl stopped abruptly. She lowered Baruj from her shoulders, letting him slide gently to the sandy earth. He was barely conscious, but let out a low moan as he hit the ground. The girl reached down and swiped at the sand beside her feet. A large wooden grate lay hidden beneath a fine layer of dirt. She lifted the door upwards, revealing a ladder leading below.

  “Climb down,” she said. “Careful.”

  Baruj crawled to the hatch and headed down first, clutching tightly to the ladder with his left hand. I slid down behind him, and the girl came down last.

  It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. We were in a small room with sandstone walls, chilly to the touch. It was cool down here in the darkness, a welcome break from the heat of the desert. A dull light shone fr
om an opening at the back of the room.

  “Through here.” Baruj and I followed her through the door. The next room had to be someone’s living quarters. Two chairs stood in the far corner, one of them occupied by a old man, and a low sofa covered the floor. Two dim lamps hung from the ceiling, spreading amber light on the floor.

  The old man stood up. “Cantara?” He spoke is the same terse, clipped accent as the dark girl.

  “Yes, Asif. I’m safe. The fire was these two. I put it out.” She motioned to us, but we lingered near the door.

  The old man, though neatly dressed in a white shirt and khaki pants, was completely covered in the same lesions that Cantara had. While her marks stopped around her ears, his coated his face, transforming his nose into a misshapen lump. I could barely make out his small brown eyes under the scarred folds of his eyelids. The yellowish light from above cast garish shadows on his face, making it look like a demonic mask.

  “Come in. Have a seat.” He motioned to the dark red sofa. Baruj collapsed, rolling on the low sofa. He moaned a moment more, then passed out. I propped his head up with a few rough pillows.

  “He’s hurt.” Asif walked closer to Baruj, peering at his arm. “Badly. It’s a good thing Cantara brought you here.” He motioned to the girl. “Get the doctor.”

  “Yes, Asif.” Cantara flipped her braid over her shoulder and strode out of the room into the darkness.

  The old man rested himself on the edge of the sofa. “What happened to you two?”

  “We were attacked by dogs,” I said. “Baruj got the worst of it.” He lay silently on the couch, his face now completely blanched, his dark eyebrows shocking black streaks on his face. His arm oozed a slow stream of blood from his raw, torn flesh.

  Asif frowned, studying Baruj’s arm. “Yes, I can see that. I think he’ll be fine, though. If you two were left alone out there...” He turned his gaze from Baruj to me, his face open and questioning. “Why are you away from your outpost?”

  For a split second, I thought about refusing to speak. I didn’t know this man, much less where I had been taken to. But his face was kind, expectant. I found the story spilling from me, about the crash, about losing Papa, about running from the Central soldiers and crossing the desert. The old man’s eyes squinted further with worry.

  “If things are as you say, your presence here is a problem. I’ll see if we can find a way to help you find your father.”

  I nodded. “Thank you.”

  He patted my shoulder. His hand was rough from his scaly skin, but not unpleasantly so. His touch was warm and friendly. It was rather like being licked by a cat.

  I lifted my gaze to meet his. His small eyes gave a tight, concerned smile. “Where are we?” I asked.

  Asif pushed himself up from the edge of the sofa and settled back down in one of the large chairs in the corner. “These are the ruins of Bawiti. It was a real city at some time, long ago, but now,” he gestured around him, “it serves its purpose. Time and sand have buried the city. The people here remain hidden and safe.”

  “Hidden from what?”

  “From those like you. Be glad Cantara was on patrol today and not one of our other, more vigilant residents.”

  I was confused and struggled to think of more questions, but Cantara came back into the room. “The doctor, Asif. I brought him as you said.”

  Cantara moved aside, and behind her was one of the tallest men I had ever seen. He stooped through the doorway and kept his head lowered in the room. If he had stood upright, he would have bumped himself on the low ceiling. Unlike Cantara and the old man, the doctor had fewer lesions on his caramel colored skin. They only encrusted his forearms and a patch on his neck. The doctor frowned at me and Baruj, his face stern and serious.

  “Why should I help them?” the doctor asked. Asif stared at him, his narrow brown eyes no longer warm.

  “They are children, Dr. Hennet. Imagine if someone found Cantara like this. Wouldn’t you want them to help her?”

  “Those clean bastards would never—” the doctor spat, but Asif cut him off.

  “You will help him. And you’ll use our reGen ointment.”

  “But we don’t have enough for our own people, and you want me to waste it on this?”

  This time, the old man said nothing. He merely stood up, drawing himself to his full height. Though he stood a full head below Dr. Hennet, there was no mistaking his power.

  “This is a mistake, Asif, but I’ll do as you ask.” The doctor kneeled beside Baruj and inspected his arm. He pulled a bottle of liquid from his bag and poured it slowly on Baruj’s wound. The sharp scent of alcohol filled the room, and Baruj, unconscious a minute before, screamed. Asif clasped his hands over Cantara’s ears, but too late. The girl’s eyes went wide as Baruj’s shrieks echoed through the room.

  The doctor then put an oily green salve on Baruj’s arm. The smell of rosemary stung my nose, and I remembered the cream Dr. DeWitt had put on my raw wrists. The bleeding slowed, but Baruj’s skin still hung in jagged strips. Dr. Hennet pulled a needle and thread out of his bag. “This is going to hurt,” he warned. “You better hold on to something.”

  Baruj grabbed one of the pillows from the couch and squeezed it as Dr. Hennet began suturing his arm. His knuckles turned white from the effort, and he gnashed his teeth so as not to scream. Dr. Hennet swiftly stitched his arm, and then snipped the end of the lose thread. Baruj’s white face had turned red from the suppressed screams. His eyes locked shut.

  Finally, Dr. Hennet pulled a bottle of pills out of his bag. “Take these three times a day until the bottle is empty. If his arm begins to feel warm or smell, call me immediately.” I doubted Baruj had heard the instructions, but I nodded that I understood.

  “Give me the bottle,” I said. “I’ll see to it that he takes these.” Dr. Hennet tossed the bottle in my hand, the pills rattling inside. I slipped it into the pocket of my dress.

  “Do you have any injuries, child?” Asif asked. Dr. Hennet tapped his foot, ready to bolt out of the room and away from the likes of Baruj and me.

  “Only my feet,” I said. “They’re not too bad, just a bit sore from walking.”

  “Take a look at her feet, Dr. Hennet.”

  The doctor looked appalled. “I’m supposed to touch her feet when her kind won’t even—”

  Asif raised one eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest. “Yes. I expect you to help her.”

  Dr. Hennet kneeled down and lifted the edge of my robe, revealing my raw, cut, and bloodied feet. His eyes widened for a moment, and he pressed his lips into a thin line.

  “It’s a good thing Asif is so soft-hearted, young lady. Another couple days of walking and you’d be crippled.” He shook his head and glopped the green reGen gel onto my feet and toes. I bit my tongue, wincing at the sudden sting of the medicine. The sting faded into a soothing heat, radiating down my toes and up my ankles, the first real relief for my feet in days.

  “Will that be all?” Dr. Hennet asked. Asif nodded, and the doctor stooped back through the door, leaving without so much as a glance back.

  Baruj’s tight, shallow breaths had slowed, and the redness flowed away from his face, slowly returning his skin to its normal olive-brown color. He looked older. Dark rings hung around his eyes, and his jaw was covered with a thick black beard. I knew Baruj lay somewhere beneath the layers of fatigue. The bleeding on his arm had stopped, and the reGen ointment was clearly working. The ragged edges of flesh began to seam themselves back together. “Why didn’t he want to help us?” I asked Asif.

  “Because sometimes your kind comes here to hurt our kind. Even the young ones. Cantara here could tell you.”

  “My kind? Do you mean...” I motioned to my skin, smooth and unblemished. He nodded.

  Cantara dropped her head, staring at the floor. “Sometimes it’s one soldier, sometimes a group. They come to hurt people. That is why we patrol. That is why we followed you.” She fingered the canteen hanging around her neck.

/>   “Is that—” I began, but I already knew it was Baruj’s canteen from his stolen knapsack. I wondered where the rest of his things had gone, but I supposed they had been given to other people in this place.

  “Why is your skin different?” I asked. Cantara’s dark face flushed, but Asif nodded solemnly.

  “Dr. Hennet tells us it’s a virus of some sort. Not everyone will host it, but those of us that do... well, you can see what happens. And we’re the lucky ones,” he said drily. “I used to be very handsome, you know.”

  He smiled, and it was so warm and welcoming that I didn’t doubt his statement. “You still are handsome,” I said. “Kindness always is.”

  “Ah, flattery.” The old man rose to his feet, groaning. “Well, I may be handsome then, little girl, but my knees are failing me. I will have to leave you two here for a moment and speak with the other elders. Cantara, please stay with them.”

  “Yes, sir,” said Cantara obediently as Asif limped out of the room.

  She began pacing in front of the door, walking stiffly. Her gaze drifted between me and the blackness beyond the doorway. She’s guarding us, I realized. Perhaps we shouldn’t have come here. Perhaps we should have stayed at the oasis instead. But Baruj...

  I looked down at him. He was breathing more normally now and seemed to be sleeping. I squeezed his good hand. If we had stayed at the oasis, Baruj’s blood and life would have drained away, and I would have been alone in the desert.

  I fiddled with the locket around my neck, twisting it absently in my fingers. The cold chain snaked through my fingers; the pendant swung like a pendulum under my hand. Papa and the others need us to hurry. I wanted to read more of Papa’s notes, or try to call Timothy, but with Cantara watching, I could do neither. I hoped we wouldn’t be kept in this place very long.

  Cantara stopped pacing abruptly. Her sudden words made me jump. “What do you have there?” She pointed to my necklace.

  I relaxed at the question. “It’s a locket. Would you like to see?” She looked over her shoulder nervously, then looked at me and Baruj on the sofa, weighing the consequence of moving from the door. After a minute or so of thought, she nodded.

  “Yes, show me.” She marched from her post by the door and sat cross-legged on the floor beside the sofa. I undid the clasp of my necklace and put the locket in her hand. My touch made her smile, softening the hard lines on her face.

  “I didn’t think your kind would touch someone like me. What is your name?”

  “I’m Sadira. The boy is Baruj.”

  “I’m Cantara.” I hadn’t thought to avoid her touch, but now that she mentioned it, I wondered if I had done the wrong thing. What if I get ill, like the people Dr. DeWitt told us about? I shook my head. No use worrying about that now. I patted her shoulder. “Thank you for helping us, for leading us here.”

  “Why were you out in the desert anyway?”

  I told her the same story I told Asif, about how Baruj and I escaped from Samalut and crossed the desert. Her eyes glistened as I told her about Papa.

  “You love him very much, don’t you?”

  I tried to tell her how it was, how Papa was strict and quiet and serious, but so kind. I wanted to tell her how Papa taught me everything, how we used to walk through the city together on those afternoons he finished work early. My voice caught in my throat, and I could only manage to nod.

  Cantara grinned and turned the locket over in her hand, inspecting it carefully. “I’m glad I helped instead of shooting.” Instead of shooting? I remembered Asif’s words, that I should be glad Cantara was the one to find us. I glanced up and down her body, but any signs of a weapon were concealed by her loose robe. Her hands, rough, dark, and warm, may have killed a person before. The thought made me shiver, but I kept my face calm.

  She seemed undisturbed by the idea of shooting a person and changed the subject, studying the locket. “What does it do? Is it for ornament?”

  “You can store pictures on it. See that button on the top? Try pressing it.”

  She pressed the small silver button on the pendant, and the front of the locket spun open, revealing a lens. The ground in front of us glowed with blue light, projecting an image of my family on the floor. Cantara’s eyes went wide with wonder.

  She inhaled sharply, awestruck. “I’ve never seen anything like this before!” She waved her hand through the projection. “There is nothing. Only air. How does it work?”

  I began telling her the basics of holo-tech, but I doubted she understood my explanation. She instead turned her attention to the projections.

  “Who is this?” she asked.

  “That’s my grandmother, my papa’s mother. I don’t remember her at all, but Papa always said she was a wonderful cook.” Grandmother’s face was long and thin with dark, deep-set eyes, like Papa. I tapped the side of the locket, and the image changed.

  “This one is my papa.” My heart ached just looking at the holo. Is he still alive? Will I ever find him? In spite of everything I had been through, every step I had taken through the desert, I felt so far away from him. I brushed my eyes, hoping to dry the tears before they formed.

  Cantara tapped the side of the locket again to switch to the next picture.

  “Those are my friends, Amina and Timothy.” I blushed a bit as I said Timothy’s name. I hoped he was safe.

  Cantara placed one rough hand on my arm. “You like him.” It wasn’t a question.

  I stared at the ground, trying to will the redness to go from my face.

  She smiled. “It’s obvious. Does your friend like you, too?”

  “Maybe. Yes. I don’t know. Here, let’s look at the next one,” I said, desperate to change the subject. I tapped the locket again, and the image of Timothy and Amina was replaced with the holo of my mother.

  Cantara gasped. “You know her? How?” she demanded, pointing at the projection.

  I stared at her, confused. “That’s my mother. She died a long time ago.”

  She shook her head, her black braid flopping around. “That can’t be your mother. I know that woman. That’s Miriam.”

  My mother’s name was Miriam, too. Is she—she couldn’t be. Papa said she died. Cantara’s eyebrows stood high on her face, raised in genuine shock. Before I could form a new question, Asif reentered the room. Cantara jumped up and stood stiffly, embarrassed to be seen away from her post.

  “I watched them carefully as you asked, sir.”

  He saw Baruj fast asleep on the sofa and chuckled. “I’m sure they were a handful. Thank you, Cantara. You may go, if you’d like.”

  She began to walk out of the room, but then turned back. “Asif? Sadir—the girl was showing me her necklace. It made pictures come out, and one of the pictures was Miriam.”

  He frowned. “What is she talking about?”

  “I showed her the holographs of my family on this locket. One of the pictures... here, let me show you.”

  I turned my locket back on, then scrolled through the pictures until I reached my mother’s. Asif’s brows furrowed, and he ran his hands over his lumpy face.

  “How did you get this picture?”

  “It’s my mother.”

  “Cantara, go tell Ms. Fermat I will be visiting with her.”

  She ran out the door, her tan robe trailing behind her. Asif sat down on the chair next to me. For a long moment, he did not speak, but only stared ahead at the blank wall in silent contemplation.

  “Tell me, child, how did your mother die?” he asked, his eyes still distant.

  “My papa always told me she was hit by a hovercab. But someone else told me that she got sick and died.”

  He nodded gravely. “Do you remember her at all?”

  My memories of Mama were all tinged with blue, a scene from a holograph instead of a picture in my mind. “No. I was only three when she went with God.”

  “Let me look at you, child.” He grabbed my face with his rough hands, studying my nose, my mouth, then my eyes.
>
  “Ah, perhaps it is so.”

  “Perhaps what is so?”

  He pushed himself up from the chair, his body heaving with a sigh. “Child, I must leave you here once more. I am going to lock this door. Do not try to leave.”

  Where could I go? Baruj had the map. I had no idea where we were, and of all the places I’d been in the last week, this seemed to be the safest. The old man limped out of the room and slammed the heavy wooden door shut, clicking the lock into place. I curled up on the sofa next to Baruj and grabbed his good arm once more. His skin was still clammy, but the flesh on his right arm continued to seal. I breathed a sigh of relief. He would live. We would find Papa. As much as I tried to fight it, I soon drifted off to sleep.

  .

  “Sadira, Sadira.” A small, rough hand shook me. “Please, wake.”

  I opened my eyes, puzzled for a moment. The dim room, the sofa and its rough blankets, a beautiful, scarred face before me.

  “Cantara.” I sighed. The pieces of the puzzle fit together, and I remembered where I was. “What’s going on?”

  “You must follow me.” Her voice was urgent.

  I started to shake Baruj awake, but she grabbed my arm. “Just you. Don’t worry. The man will be safe.”

  She grabbed my hand and led me through the door, pausing for a moment to lock it back up. She pulled me along down a dark corridor and a flight of steps. We passed through a large room, filled with rows of tables. A cluster of people sat at one table, and as we passed through the room, they all stared. Each person was covered to some degree with the same lesions as Cantara and Asif. Cantara marched forward, seemingly oblivious to the attention.

  We went through another corridor, where she finally paused to open another wooden door leading into a well-lit room.

  Cantara gave a quick bow. “I brought her, as you asked.”

  The room was arranged as a small bedroom suite. In one corner sat a low bed, covered with bright yellow sheets. A desk was pushed against another wall, and a pair of simple metal chairs stood in front of the desk.

  A woman, perhaps in her forties, graced one chair, and Asif occupied the other. Their conversation, unintelligible low whispers, ended as soon as I walked through the door.

  “Child, do you recognize this woman?”

  The woman turned and looked at me, but before I could even get a good look at her, she gasped. “Forgive me for not believing you.”

  “Now that you see her with your own eyes?”

  The woman stood and walked slowly toward me. “I always wondered if I would know you if I saw you again, Sadira.” She neither smiled nor frowned, but only studied me with a cold, scientific curiosity. “My mother’s eyes, my father’s nose. You have Henri’s frame. Tall, too thin, just like him.” Her voice had a different, scratchy quality to it, rougher and harsher than Cantara’s.