In a Handful of Dust

  “This place, it in California?” Lynn asked.

  Fletcher leaned in closer to the two of them and dropped his voice. “It’s called Sand City. They had a desal plant way before the Shortage and a small enough population to take care of themselves. You have to understand the majority of people didn’t think the water situation would prove to be as dire as the predictions, but those with foresight moved to places like Sand City. Out here in the west, water isn’t as easy to come across as it might’ve been for you in Ohio. The few decent people that are left tend to band together for protection.”

  “You come across these groups of nice people often?” Lynn sounded skeptical.

  “Less and less. But last time I was in Sand City, they were doing fine.”

  “You’ve been there?” Lucy was filled with the urge to leap up and touch Fletcher just to be nearer to the idea of California.

  “A few times,” Fletcher said. “If you use my name to vouch for you, it’ll gain you a spot there. I’d lead you right up to the gate myself if I could, but I’m headed north after we cross the mountains.”

  “We?” Lynn said, though Lucy thought she sounded more amused at Fletcher’s assumptions than annoyed.

  “Indeed,” he said. “We’re headed in the same direction. And even though I may not be the most imposing figure, even one man in your group will make the two of you a less desirable target.”

  “And you gain what exactly?”

  “A good deed done,” he said. “And the full benefit of your whimsical conversation, of course.”

  Lynn ignored the joke and looked at Lucy. “What do you think?”

  “I like having a name to put to it, a place to go,” Lucy said. “It feels more real, like we’re actually heading for something.”

  “And him?”

  Lucy looked at Fletcher in the white light of the moon, the easy way he’d propped himself against the saddle on the ground, the innocent look of the pale curls his hat had hidden. But his hands were big, and there was no question he was stronger than both of them together. The road had sculpted him into hard muscle, the lines easily seen beneath the worn fabric of his shirt. Placing their trust in him would be a gamble, and she knew it went against Lynn’s better judgment.

  But Lucy had grown up safe and sheltered, and she believed people were good. “I trust him,” she said, holding his gaze.

  What she didn’t add was that she’d hold the devil’s hand if he offered to help her over the mountains.

  UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

  HarperCollins Publishers

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

  Twenty

  They hadn’t been in Colorado long before the mountains asserted their presence, and their low line on the horizon could no longer be explained away as an ever-present storm front. The fact that their goal now had a name—Sand City—had buoyed Lucy through their first few days of traveling with Fletcher. But as the slim line of the mountains made itself evident, the weight in her stomach settled again, and she could not sleep.

  Lynn was less worried about the mountains and more concerned with keeping one eye on Fletcher at all times, which had interfered with her rest. Hours after they had made camp Lucy would awake to find Lynn lying facing their companion, both eyes open and alert. Lucy knew Lynn’s mistrust was rooted in a lifetime of self-preservation and had only been reinforced by their unfortunate friendship with Joss. So far Fletcher had been everything he’d promised: a guide and a gentleman. But for all his effortless attempts at conversation, Lynn had remained aloof and disinterested.

  Lucy would’ve been amused at Fletcher’s vain attempts to corner Lynn’s attention, but there was no room in her mind for anything other than the mountains. Whenever Lynn produced her well-worn map with their new route traced in faded pencil, Lucy’s heart never knew whether to be elated at their progress or dismayed as the continuous battle between what if and I can’t raged.

  She almost missed the humid heat of Illinois and the long, flat stretches of land. There she’d looked into the distance and seen heat rising up off the road in liquid waves. In Colorado the heat mirages couldn’t hide the fact that the mountains lay ahead of them. The sun disappeared behind their black peaks long before the rays were truly dead, and Lucy would covet the moments of sun the impassive mountains stole from her. At night she felt their presence as keenly as if she could see them. Although she knew it was only her imagination, it seemed every noise bounced back off those far walls and reverberated in her ears. The night noises of insects and the far-off calls of coyotes filled the dark hours.

  The first night they heard the high-pitched yips of the wild dogs, Lynn bolted from her blankets, gun in hand. Fletcher was upright in a second, producing a knife Lucy had never even known he carriedfrom his bedroll.

  “What?” He searched Lynn’s face, but she shushed him viciously. Lucy huddled under her blankets, the tiny corner of sleep she’d managed to find shattered.

  The calls came again, the leader barking loud and long, the rest of the pack joining in a continuous howl as they ripped apart an animal out in the darkness. Fletcher slid his knife back into his bedroll.

  “Coyotes don’t interfere with people,” he said. “Don’t let them steal your sleep.”

  Lucy didn’t know how Fletcher could possibly believe Lynn was getting any sleep in the first place. Dark hollows were sculpted under her eyes, and her brows had been scrunched together for the past two days, something Lucy knew was a sure sign she had a headache.

  Lynn moved over next to Lucy and laid her gun between them without speaking to Fletcher. He shrugged and curled back into a ball, dropping off to sleep in a moment. Lucy reached out and touched Lynn’s dark hair, offering comfort as well as searching for some. “He has no way of knowing how you lost your mom,” she said softly. “Don’t hold it against him for thinking coyotes don’t hurt people.”

  “What I hold against him is how fast that knife came out, and one I didn’t know he had on him.”

  Lucy rubbed some of Lynn’s hair between her fingers, letting its inky darkness entangle her hand. She didn’t want to think of Fletcher as anything other than friendly; his easy smile had won her over miles ago, and she wasn’t blind to the way he looked at Lynn, even if she was.

  “I don’t think it’s anything to worry about,” she said.

  “And he doesn’t think coyotes are anything to worry about,” Lynn shot back. “Here’s hoping you’re both right, ’cause I’m tired as hell.”

  “Get some sleep,” Lucy said. “I’m awake.”

  There was a long silence in which Lucy thought Lynn might have done exactly that. “I know you’re awake,” Lynn finally said, her voice low and heavy. “I almost believe you have been ever since we crossed into Colorado. Thought you trusted him?”

  Lucy let Lynn’s hair fall from her fingers. “It’s not Fletcher keeping me up.”

  “The mountains then?”

  “Yeah,” Lucy said, drawing out the single word as if she could pour all her anxiety into it and find escape.

  “I wouldn’t have agreed to Fletcher coming along with us if I didn’t think there was some use for it,” Lynn said. “He’ll get us through those mountains better than I could have on my own, trust him or no.”

  Lucy smiled a little to herself in the dark. “I think he would’ve followed us whether you said he could come or not.”

  “Whatever the case is, he’s with us now. You don’t think on those mountains anymore.”

  Lucy surprised herself by laughing aloud. “Yeah, right. I won’t think about the mountains. How about you start trusting Fletcher?”

  The second she said it she wished the words back into her mouth, and the tight silence enveloping their little camp made her think Fletcher was awake too, and listening for the answer. But instead of getting angry she felt Lynn’s light touch on her cheek, and soft words came out of the darkness.

  “I don’t understand when you sta
rted being so scared of everything, little one.”

  It was a question Lucy didn’t have an answer for, even though the road gave her plenty of time to ponder it. She remembered days from long ago, when her legs seemed too short to take her all the places she wanted to go, and Lynn had fought to keep her within a safe distance of their house. The ripples of fish in the pond would send her leaping into the water before she could swim, the call of a hawk drew her to the fields to see what it was hunting.

  Then she lost Eli, her uncle, whose face was clearer in her memory than her own mother’s. He had left one evening from Grandma Vera’s cabin by the stream with a light kiss on her forehead. And then he was gone, with a pile of stones in the clearing to replace him, resting forever beside the infant brother she had never known.

  Her mother lay there too, nestled between them in the grave of her own making. Lucy’s curious wanderings had taken her all over as she grew older, with Lynn’s protective warnings ringing in her ears when she stayed out too long or strayed too far. But the graveyard was one place she always skirted in order to keep the dim memories safely cornered in the recesses of her mind.

  People could be lost. People could leave. People could be taken from her. This idea had taken root in her childish mind and delved deep, sending dark thoughts that made her clutch more tightly to Lynn with her heart. Though she would wander far, there was never a time when she opened the door of their home without a sharp stab of fear: What if Lynn wasn’t there?

  Lynn had gone to the graveyard often, Lucy knew, spending equal time with Neva and Eli alike, though she’d been bluntly honest when Lucy had asked long ago if she and Neva had been friends. Uncle Eli was another story, one Lynn clearly hadn’t found the end to yet, Lucy thought, as she walked along, glancing sideways at Fletcher.

  He sat astride Brown Horse, who he’d cheekily renamed Terra Cotta after her foot healed. Lynn was riding beside him, Mister barely a nose behind. Lucy guessed Lynn would rather have died than admit to Fletcher he was actually leading them, and she kept her face impassive whenever she spoke to him, which was not often. Lucy had to nudge Spatter to keep up every now and then, as he was always leaving the road to investigate what edibles might be hiding from him in the Colorado dust. Her own thoughts roamed along with her mount, as if discovering the moment in time she had lost her courage might help her reclaim it.

  Whether it was Neva’s abandonment, Eli’s death, her own realization that Stebbs and Vera were getting older, or the terror on Carter’s face when he accepted his fate, the seed of fear had been planted inside of her. And it had grown, filling all her corners and finding an answering echo in the dark line of the mountains. Forcing Spatter forward felt like inviting terror, and even the calm, straight lines of Lynn’s and Fletcher’s backs as they rode ahead of her held no comfort.

  The day finally came when they rode into the shadow of the mountains, and Lucy fought the urge to bolt as the shade swallowed first Fletcher, then Lynn, and finally herself. Goose bumps stood out starkly on her skin even though she was sweating, and she felt Spatter falter in response to her own wariness. She leaned forward and patted him to reassure them both, glad that she was behind the adults so they would not see the struggle it was for her to keep from wheeling his head around and running back east as fast as he could take her.

  The first night beside the mountains stole any semblance of sleep from Lucy. The chill that had started on her skin penetrated to her bones. Lynn had consented to a small fire after Fletcher mentioned it in passing. The heat had lulled the exhausted Lynn into a sleep Lucy envied, and she watched Lynn by the light of the flickering flames.

  “It’s good she’s finding some peace,” Fletcher said. His voice jolted Lucy from her reverie, and she looked over to where he was propped on his elbows, his eyes on Lynn as well. “I doubt that poor woman has had any true sleep since I joined you.”

  Lucy scooted closer to him so they could talk without disturbing Lynn. “Take it as a sign she trusts you now.”

  “And leave poor unassuming you to my infernal devices?” Fletcher asked.

  “I don’t think I’d put it that way, mostly ’cause I don’t know what you said.”

  “What it breaks down to is, it may seem she trusts me not to harm you, but really the woman is exhausted and sleep is a biological imperative.”

  “Lynn’s been known to outsmart her own body once or twice,” Lucy said. “If she didn’t want to sleep, she wouldn’t. Take heart.”

  Fletcher smiled, an easy action for him, but this one was quiet and personal, and Lucy felt intrusive even watching him. “Regardless,” he said. “Her trust would be a lovely thing to have, but a man such as myself can’t ask for anything more.”

  “A man like you?”

  “One who’s got nothing to give.”

  They were silent together for a moment as they watched the flames play across Lynn’s face, darkening the shadows under her eyes still further. Lucy broke the silence. “How did you meet your wife?”

  “She was on the road, same as me. We crossed paths and it was simply serendipity. The chances of finding someone you can truly love were small, even before this dark and broken time of ours. What are the odds two people left in this vast emptiness would find each other and be soul mates?”

  “It’s a long shot,” Lucy agreed.

  “We found each other once. I’ll find her again.”

  Though his eyes were still on Lynn, Lucy could see his thoughts were elsewhere. “What was her name?”

  Fletcher was still for a while before answering, as if considering imparting a secret. “Rose,” he finally said, and she could hear the long years of loneliness embedded deep in the single syllable.

  “I had someone,” Lucy said after a moment.

  “You had to leave him behind, didn’t you?”

  She nodded as an answer, her throat too tight for words.

  “I can see it. There’s a worry that surrounds you too mature for your years.”

  “Yeah, well,” Lucy said, “I got lots of worries.”

  “Tell me about this boy, for starters.”

  “His name was—is,” she corrected herself, “Carter.”

  “And what happened? Why isn’t he traveling with you?”

  “He got sick. Well, actually, he never got sick, which was the problem. Turns out he was carrying the polio that wiped out our people. Lynn said I couldn’t see him anymore, and back home he was . . .”

  “Exiled?”

  “He was turned out, yeah,” Lucy said softly, remembering the lost look in Carter’s eyes as he left her underneath the trees.

  “That’s a hard life, when it’s not voluntary,” Fletcher said.

  “He didn’t want to go,” Lucy said, lost in her own story. “But he knew it was best for everyone, best for me. I’ve seen Lynn do all kinds of brave things my whole life, but I’ve never seen anything like Carter walking out into nothing all by himself.”

  “Sounds like he was a good fella.”

  “Is a good fella,” Lucy insisted. “For all anyone knows, he’s still alive. I’m sticking to that, the same as you’re sticking to Rose.”

  “Even though he’s back east and you’re headed west as far as the land can take you?”

  “This place, Sand City, does it have doctors?”

  “Some, as I recall.” Fletcher looked into the fire before continuing. “I don’t know if they were doctors in the modern sense of the word though, and I don’t want to mislead you.”

  “Mislead me?”

  “Meaning that I don’t want you to have Sand City set up in your head as a utopia—a place where everything is perfect,” he added before Lucy could interrupt with the question. “The folks there are kind, and life is easier, definitely. But there’s still illness and accidents, and different kinds of work to be done every day.”

  “Life is work.” Lucy shrugged.

  “And here I thought you had the optimism of youth.” Fletcher laughed softly to himself, then he
ld up his hand to reassure her that he wasn’t mocking her. “No offense meant.”

  “My grandma Vera is a doctor—a real one,” Lucy said. “But she didn’t know if Carter would carry the polio forever or if it kinda faded out.”

  “So you’re hoping you can find someone who does know? What if you walk toward the sunset thinking you’ll find all your answers in Sand City, and they’re not there? Or shall we consider the opposite? What if someone tells you what you want to hear—that this boy is no longer infectious—yet you’re separated by all the miles you just crossed to hear those words?”

  Lucy felt the pit of hopelessness opening in her stomach at such direct questions. To speak her half-made plans out loud made them sound feeble and childish, the product of a lovesick mind that had no room for logic. “If he can be rid of it, I’m going to find him. I won’t leave him for dead.”

  “And how do you imagine that scenario playing out with Lynn?”

  “Not well,” she admitted.

  “I’d say not,” Fletcher agreed. “She crosses the country on foot to keep you safe and you do an about-face and head back?”

  “You do it,” Lucy said, letting the edge in her voice cut through the air even though Lynn was asleep. “You wander around with no idea where to go without a second thought.”

  “And beholden to none,” Fletcher added, weighting each word. “I can do it because there is no one who cares for me. Those who reap the blessings of freedom must undergo the fatigue of supporting it.”

  Lucy could feel her jaw tightening into the stubborn set Carter had always teased her about, the tiniest flare of irritation firing along with it. “If I say I’ll do it, then I’ll do it.”

  “No reason to get heated, though it’s refreshing to have a philosophical conversation,” he said.

  Lucy let all her breath out in a rush. “Sorry. I didn’t know I had that in me.”

  “I imagine there’s a lot of things you don’t know you have in you, little Lucy.”

  Lucy shook her head. “You don’t know the half of it, Fletcher. My mom, my real mom, she killed herself rather than have to face her fears. That’s who I am. It’s in my blood.”