In a Handful of Dust

  Lucy felt Joss’ hand on her elbow and resisted the urge to shake it off. She walked to the break in the trees.

  A vibrant green fanned out from the road in symmetrical lines, marching into the distance as far as Lucy could see. The breeze blowing through the knee-high stalks made more rustling than the woods.

  “Shit,” she said, all cleverness wrung from her. “How many people does it take to plant that much corn?”

  “And how many more to eat it all?” Lynn asked, already backtracking into the shadow of the woods. “We’re turning around. Right now.”

  “To go where?” Joss asked. “To do what?”

  “Away from here,” Lynn said simply, breaking into a trot and leaving the road for the cover of the woods. Lucy followed, holding back branches so they wouldn’t whip Joss in the face. They cut into the middle of the woods, where Lucy scrambled up a tree for a better look.

  To the south, the road where they had found the hanged men was wide, and she could easily see it from her perch. No houses were in sight, no community capable of sowing the immaculate field of corn.

  “Anything?” Lynn’s voice, though hushed, carried from the ground. Lucy shook her head and shimmied back down.

  “Can’t see anything for miles,” she said, once her feet hit the ground. “Behind us there’s the road we were on. There’s another one to the north of us running east-west we could travel. But there’s no good cover, just grass on both sides.”

  “So now what?” Joss asked, nerves cracking her voice. “What’re we gonna do?”

  Lynn looked at the height of the sun in the sky. “We’ll head north for now,” she decided. “Cut across the grass to the next road, and the one after that if we have to, ’til we find something that can cover us better than blades of grass.”

  “And then?”

  Lynn sighed. “And then I’m gonna put you in charge, and ask you a bunch of annoying questions.”

  Lucy squelched a smile as they cut across the road and into the grass, trotting at a decent pace. They hit the next east-west road, a patchy asphalt trek that Lynn didn’t care for. They trotted through another stretch of thick grass that danced over their heads as they passed by. Behind her, Lucy could hear Joss panting for breath.

  They broke out of the pasture onto another road, this one gravel. Lynn kept them to a jog and set off to the west, glancing back to be sure they followed. Lucy nodded to her that she was fine, then jerked her head backward and lolled her tongue out to show that Joss wasn’t doing so well. The slightest eyebrow twitch from Lynn conveyed exactly what she thought of that, and Lucy could’ve sworn she picked up the pace. A splash of gray rock in the distance broke the parade of green, and Lucy called out for Lynn to stop when they reached it, feigning a limp.

  “Blister,” she panted, holding one foot in the air like a wounded animal.

  “Want me to look?” Lynn asked, her voice carrying back to Joss, who had fallen behind. Joss slowed to a walk when she saw they had stopped.

  Lucy nodded and sat on the boulder, resting her supposedly injured foot on Lynn’s knee. Lynn’s quick hands undid the laces, and she glanced over her shoulder to see if Joss was approaching.

  “You’re foot’s perfectly fine, isn’t it?”

  “Those weren’t her people back there,” Lucy said, as Lynn slipped the boot off her foot.

  “You guessed that too?” Lynn pulled off Lucy’s sweaty sock and pretended to look at the blister that didn’t exist.

  “That or they were her people and it didn’t bother her at all to see them hanging. She’s either lying or coldhearted. Whichever way, it makes up my mind as to whether I like her or not.”

  “Oh, you can like her all you want,” Lynn said, wrapping a fresh bandage around Lucy’s heel. “Just don’t trust her.”

  Lucy thought of her ash stick in Joss’ hands, the spark of interest that had flashed in her eyes. “I don’t.”

  “Good. But my guess is she didn’t ever know those dead men.”

  “Why would she lie about it?” Lucy asked as Lynn slipped the sock over her toes.

  “Remember that time you had a tick above your ear, neither one of us noticed it ’til it was big as a grape?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Joss is like that, I think. Attaches herself to whoever looks like the best bet and sucks the blood out of ’em until they wise up to her.”

  “She was left behind at Lake Wellesley,” Lucy said. “Whoever she was traveling with had her figured out.”

  “I think so too.” Lynn nodded. “And she was lucky enough to come upon our fire. Now she’ll say she might as well stick with us, as her ‘people’ are dead.”

  Lucy glanced back down the road, saw that Joss had stopped to pull a water bottle from her pack. “So what do we do?”

  “Not much we can do, really. Hopefully something looks good enough to make her want to stay in a town we come upon. Or maybe a group bigger than our own that she’d feel safer with. I’ve tried sneaking outta camp a few times at night. Woman sleeps lighter than a grasshopper. So for now, we put up with her. She’s annoying, but she’s not a threat.”

  The next words stuck in Lucy’s throat, not wanting to come out. “What if she were?”

  Lynn held out a hand and pulled Lucy from the boulder. “Then she’s dead. You might have hem-hawed on whether or not you like her, but I never did.”

  “So why’d you let her come with us in the first place?”

  Lynn took a swallow from her water bottle and put it back in her pack before answering, eyes glued to the approaching figure of Joss. “’Cause of the way she came up on us back at the lake, so quiet and still. I figured she might have something to offer other than creeping. Turns out it’s her best quality.”

  Joss was close enough to make out their conversation, so Lucy switched to another topic. “What’d you make of the field of corn?”

  Lynn looked to the horizon, and the black storm clouds assembling there. “Trouble.”

  UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

  HarperCollins Publishers

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

  Twelve

  The rain was falling so heavily their water bottles couldn’t stand up in the torrent, and Lucy ran out to collect them. Joss had spotted an ancient brick house standing alone in the middle of a field, the drive leading to it as full of grass as the acres around it. They ran for the house as the clouds opened up, the fat drops spattering around them as they ducked under the eaves of the buckling walls.

  Lucy guessed the house had been old even before the Shortage. The open spaces for high windows, broken now, reminded her of home, as did the plaster walls that were crumbling into dust. Miraculously, the stone fireplace still stood, and the soot traces there showed other travelers had used it as they passed. The flames flickered across the walls in the early shadows that had fallen.

  The driving rain slipped through the cracks in the roof, dripping down onto their heads and finding their new place seconds after they’d moved. A fresh drop smacked Lucy on the nose, after she’d changed spots for the fourth time. She jumped up in frustration, swiping at her face. “Dammit!”

  Lightning flickered, and she spotted an outbuilding in what remained of the backyard, overgrown by a lilac bush. “Building out there,” she said to Lynn. “Could be something useful.”

  “Doubt it,” Lynn said. “Looks like people have stayed the night here before. Anything worth taking’s probably already took.”

  “I’ll go check,” Lucy said, despite the fact that it was still pouring. Joss sat silently near the fire, her wordless presence grating on Lucy’s nerves.

  Lynn caught her glance and nodded her assent. “If you want to run outside in the rain, that’s your choice.”

  Lucy picked her way down a hallway where chunks of the ceiling lay on the floor, wet and moldy, finally finding a back door that led out to the yard. Another lightning flash lit up the outbuilding and she dashed into the
rain, shivering as the drops slipped past her upturned collar and ran down her spine. Getting inside the building was not easy; the lilac had hugged it for a long time. Lucy pulled and hacked, breaking old limbs and bending new ones until she could kick down what remained of the door.

  More lightning revealed that she’d been right—other travelers had missed the little outbuilding. The walls of the shed were lined with rusty tools, a bicycle with rotted tires sat in the corner, and bundles of twine hung from the ceiling. Lucy grabbed what could still be serviceable—a hammer, two screwdrivers with different heads, and some of the twine. A final flash revealed something piled in the corner that made Lucy laugh, despite the wet clothes clinging to her. She sprinted back to the house and into the front room, her tools and twine nestled inside the five-gallon buckets she’d found. Lynn glanced up.

  “I thought the buckets might actually make you smile,” Lucy said, as she stuffed the twine into her pack. As expected, Lynn rolled her eyes, but the corners of her mouth were twitching as she turned back to the fire.

  “That was close, anyway,” Joss said, watching Lynn’s reaction. “What’s so great about buckets?”

  “These aren’t just buckets, lady,” Lucy clarified. “These are five-gallon buckets. You wanna carry five gallons of something? This is the bucket you need.”

  Joss turned to Lynn, mystified. “What’s the big deal?”

  “Where we’re from,” Lynn answered, “these buckets were kinda hard to come by. They’d get you all kinds of stuff in trade if you were lucky enough to find one.”

  “Because they haul water?”

  “Haul water?” Lucy said in mock exaggeration. “Oh, they haul water, and snow—which turns into water, by the way, or big chunks of ice—which also turns into water. And,” she continued, “it’s useful empty. Flip it over and set your can on it when you’re done hauling water.” She dexterously flipped a bucket, clomping it down on the floor and sitting on it with a flourish.

  The crack of the gunshot was barely audible over the pounding rain, and Lucy didn’t understand why she’d been knocked onto her back until blood blossomed across the front of her shirt.

  “Shit! Lynn!”

  Lynn was already at the fireplace, dousing the flames with a blanket and kicking the smoking remnants into a corner. Darkness descended and Lucy heard Lynn crawling toward her.

  “Where you hit?”

  “It’s just my shoulder, I think,” she answered, trying to control the panic in her voice.

  “Can you crawl?”

  The acrid smoke from the smothered fire filled her nostrils and Lucy gasped for air. “Yeah, I think so,” she said, ignoring the flare of pain that shot through her shoulder as she followed the sounds of Lynn’s movement toward a window.

  A clammy hand clasped around her ankle. “What’s happening?” Joss asked, her voice pitched high with fear.

  Another bullet sliced through the plaster wall, mixing a cloud of dust with the smoke that hung low in the heavy air. Lynn growled at Joss to whisper, and the three of them hovered close to a window, heads below the sill. Lucy barely resisted the urge to shake Joss’ hand off her leg, and gritted her teeth against the pain spreading through her arm, like hot needles surging under the surface of her skin.

  Lynn rose an inch so she could see through the hole where the window had been, but immediately dropped. “It’s too dark to see,” she whispered. “And too many openings here for me to cover them all.”

  Lucy felt cold metal in her hand; the butt of the pistol. “Take this,” Lynn said, “and you and Joss find the stairs. Go on up if you think they’ll hold you, but get out of this room.”

  “What about you? Where you going?” Lucy asked, a panic darker than the room sprouting in her belly. “Don’t leave me here!”

  “I’m going outside,” Lynn said, voice pitched low. “I can’t see them, but I might be able to hear them out there without the rain pounding on the roof. If we at least show ’em we’ve got guns, they might back off.”

  “And if they don’t?” Joss asked.

  “If they don’t, Lucy isn’t a bad shot.”

  Lucy felt Joss’ grip tighten on her leg. “Don’t you dare get hurt,” Lucy said to Lynn, her voice a growl over the drumming of the rain. “I’ll be really pissed at you if you die.”

  “I’ll be fine, and you’ve been pissed at me before. Now go on.”

  Lynn was gone when the next flash lit the room, and Lucy spotted the rickety shadow of the staircase. She began crawling toward it without a word, well aware Joss didn’t need encouragement to stay close. The needles in her arm surged with movement, and she bit down to keep from crying out. She bumped into the first step and clamped her teeth as the pain shot through her shoulder, drawing blood from her bottom lip.

  She crawled up six steps before the wood beneath gave away. Joss trembled a step below her, tangling herself in Lucy’s legs in an effort to find cover. Lucy flicked the safety on the pistol and lay very still. The rain let up, the relentless pounding on the slate roof falling back to a low thrum. A rifle crack rang out, and an unmistakable male yelp of pain. Lucy smiled in the darkness.

  “How’d she do that?” Joss asked. “How’d she know where to shoot in the dark?”

  “Lynn’s rifle is another arm to her. Shooting someone in the pitch black is no different to her than you finding your own face in the night.”

  Joss was silent after that, as was Lynn’s gun. The rain spattered on the roof, its inconsistent rhythm fading into a sprinkle.

  “I’m here.” Lynn’s voice cut through the darkness, and relief radiated through Lucy at the sound.

  “We’re on the stairs,” she called. “You scare them off?”

  “Seems that way. Come on out of there. We’re not staying a second longer.”

  Joss and Lucy slipped down the staircase, groping in the dark for their belongings. Lucy grabbed the straps of Lynn’s backpack and her own. She could hear Joss moving through the blackness to her right, where she and Lynn had been sleeping.

  “I’ve got your two blankets,” Joss whispered. “Can you grab mine?”

  Lucy felt around for a few moments before realizing Lynn had used it to smother the fire. That bit of explanation could wait for later. When Lucy tried to lift her pack, the weight sent a fresh bolt of pain through her shoulder, and she cried out.

  Lynn was beside her quickly, taking both Lucy’s pack and her own without comment. They left the house through the back door. Even though it wasn’t raining anymore, they were soaked within seconds from the drops clinging to stalks of grass. Lucy followed Lynn, her good arm laced through one of the packs, while Joss held on to Lucy’s shirt. The night was utterly dark, and Lynn didn’t move them far before stopping.

  “Should be okay here,” she said. “There’s a little cover, and they won’t be able to track us in this pitch.”

  Lynn grabbed Lucy’s hand and touched it to a tree. Lucy leaned against it for support, sliding down to the ground in exhaustion. She heard Joss doing the same beside her, and the three rested against the trunk for a few moments in silence.

  “Sorry about your blanket,” Lynn finally said.

  Beside her, Lucy felt Joss shrug. “It’s okay.”

  “We’ll get you a new one once we’re back on the road.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “How’s your shoulder?” Lucy felt Lynn’s hands wandering up her arm, but she shrugged her off.

  “It hurts,” she said. “But there’s nothing you can do without any light, and I’m not dying.”

  Lynn’s hands dropped from her, and Lucy rested her head on the other woman’s shoulder, letting the panic and fear of the night coalesce into a deep sleep that the pain could not penetrate.

  When they woke, Joss was gone.

  “She must’ve really been offended when you burned her blanket,” Lucy said, ignoring the cold sweat that had broken out on her face as soon as Lynn probed her shoulder wound.

  “Mmm,” Lynn said
, turning Lucy to get the best of the new morning light on the bullet hole. “Doesn’t look like it hit too much important, bone-wise. Here, feel this.”

  She pulled Lucy’s good hand around her chest to put it on the right shoulder blade, where Lucy could feel a small, hard lump resting below the skin. “Am I breaking out again?”

  Lynn actually smiled. “You’re in good humor, for being shot.”

  “I don’t know that it would hurt less if I complained about it.”

  “I don’t know either,” Lynn said, unsheathing her knife. “Never been shot, myself.”

  Lucy looked away from the naked blade as Lynn circled behind her. “Seriously? I thought you would’ve been shot at least seven, eight times?”

  “Been shot at plenty, just too quick to ever get hit.”

  “So now I’m slow?” Lucy said, baring her teeth as she felt Lynn pinching the trapped bullet between her fingers.

  “Hold still now,” Lynn said as she hovered over Lucy’s back. “No, I’d say you’re more like an easy target, what with putting on your bucket show back there.”

  There was a flare of pain across her back, no worse than a bee sting. “Just trying to make you laugh,” Lucy said. “Dammit! I forgot the buckets.”

  “I think you did more damage to it than it did to you,” Lynn said, holding a bloody, smashed bullet out to Lucy.

  Lucy rotated her arm, wincing. “Doubt it.”

  “As for making me laugh, a few more inches to the left and it wouldn’t have been worth it.”

  “Oh, but right where it ended up puncturing me was a fair trade, in your estimation?”

  Lynn shrugged. “It was pretty funny.”

  Lucy smacked at her with her good arm, but Lynn had moved out of reach. “All right, that’s enough silliness. Joss took the water bottles we set out in the night. She didn’t get into our food, or the full bottles, because we were sleeping on our packs. Otherwise I think she would’ve gladly left us with nothing.”

  “That makes up my mind about not liking her then,” Lucy said. “So what’s she going to do, you think?”