In a Handful of Dust (24 page)

“Open your eyes,” she screamed at her. “Look at me when you’re telling me you’re leaving me alone.” Lucy peeled Lynn’s eyelids open and her pupils dilated in the sun.

“Can’t close ’em again . . .,” Lynn said. “Too dry.”

Lucy realized there was no reflection on Lynn’s eyes of the tower above, no answering glint from the burning sun. Tears poured from her own eyes as she realized how far gone Lynn was, and she tore the cap from the bottle, pried Lynn’s teeth apart, and dumped water down her throat.

Lynn gagged and convulsed against the force, but Lucy jammed her jaws together and pinched her nose, not pulling her hand away until she saw Lynn swallow. She curled the other woman’s hand around the bottle.

“You’re not dying without me dying too,” Lucy said sternly. “This is one decision you don’t get to make alone.”

The barest suggestion of a smile stretched Lynn’s flaccid lips. “It is what it is,” she said.

And the sun moved across the sky.

Lucy dismissed the flash of light on the horizon as nothing more than a spasm of her dying brain. All her senses felt sharpened as she struggled on, distinctly feeling each contour of the road beneath her, the sound of her frayed and bloodied jean leg dragging against it. Taste alone was elusive, her own tongue now swollen to the point that the idea of fitting food into the increasingly small area of her mouth was ludicrous. Her saliva was gone, her eyes felt like apples left to wither on the tree.

The flash came again, this time bearing with it the faintest hum that in her delirium Lucy mistook for an insect. She waved her hands around her head to fend it off, and the movement sent her to the ground, tearing a hole in her jeans at the knee. The knobby white skin of her kneecap poked through and she stared at it, amazed at how easily her dry skin had peeled away from the lower layers, how slowly her thick blood rose to the surface.

The sound grew louder, and she felt vibration underneath her that seemed to pierce through her skin and rattle her bones. The light on the horizon was gone; in its place a dark shadow hurtled toward her. Her fevered brain struggled to find a word that would make the phenomenon sensible.

“Car,” she croaked, the word sticking in her throat and resisting her enlarged tongue. The single syllable roared through what was left of her logic, and she said it louder, hoping to cut through the fog of fear that had immediately swirled around the one word.

“People,” she said, rising to her feet, not knowing whether to run into the desert and hide or toward them with her arms uplifted. Then she remembered Lynn’s still body left miles behind. Lucy straddled the yellow line in the middle of the road and put her hands into the air, wishing she could touch the light-blue dome that stretched above her and pluck down the merciless yellow glare of the sun.

The car came to a stop in front of her, the waves of heat rolling off its hood so thickly Lucy feared they might knock her over. With her hands still in the air, Lucy said in the strongest voice she could muster, “My name is Lucy, and I can witch water.”

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

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UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

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

L
ynn’s skin was so dry it didn’t dimple around the needle when the woman put an IV in her.

“She’ll be fine,” Lucy said. “She’s too proud to die.”

“Pride won’t keep your mom hydrated,” the nurse said simply, and hung a bag of liquid next to the bed Lynn lay in. A thin pulse pressed against Lucy’s fingers, light as the wings of a butterfly. Lucy pressed back against it, not bothering to correct the woman’s assumption that Lynn was her mother.

There had been no time for details when Lucy had crawled into the car with the help of the two men who had found her. Unconsciousness had been calling, but Lucy was frantic to explain they had to go back and get Lynn. Fever and fear had driven all words from her brain, and Lucy had only been able to point back in the direction she had come, and then to her own heart.

The drive into the city had seemed nearly obscene to Lucy, the speed at which the car ate up the miles of road mocking the hard-earned progress they had made on foot. Lynn’s head had rocked in her lap, unresisting. The driver had braked suddenly, and Lynn had rolled with the momentum, dropping to the car floor like a bag of rocks. The men had looked back at the noise and shared a glance even Lucy couldn’t miss.

But Lynn had defied them without uttering a single word. Her heart kept beating, her breath kept coming, and Lucy’s pride in her had soared to new heights. Lucy stayed in a wheelchair by her bedside, her own IV trailing behind her, snaked with Lynn’s.

“You should get back to your own bed,” the nurse said. “You weren’t in much better shape than your mother twelve hours ago.”

“I need to stay where she can see me,” Lucy said, not glancing up.

“She’s not been conscious since they brought her in, little girl. She’s not seeing you, or anyone else.”

“It’s best I be here when she can though,” Lucy said. “Otherwise she’s likely to start killing people.”

There was a disgruntled snort; then the woman was gone and Lucy sighed with relief. “I hope she’s here when you do wake up,” she muttered to Lynn. “You should definitely meet.”

The nurse who had been on shift when Lucy was carried into the hospital was an older woman she had mistaken for Vera. She’d struggled from the arms of the man carrying her and fell forward into the nurse’s arms, weeping for joy. When her wits had been restored to her hours later, Lucy was not sure how her mind had made the leap. The only similarity between Nora and Vera was age and the ability to heal, but Lucy was thankful both for the proof that people could live long lives in the desert, and that someone was around who could save hers.

Lynn’s hand twitched underneath her own, and Lucy leaned forward, eyes searching Lynn’s face for any sign of movement. “Lynn? Can you hear me?”

One eyelid flickered, opened slowly, and focused on the needle in her arm. Lynn licked her lips before trying to speak. “Cold.”

“That’s your IV,” Lucy said, rubbing her hands up and down Lynn’s arm to warm it. “Mine was cold too, at first, but you get used to it.”

“IV?”

“Yeah, it’s like a vein with water in it, and they pour it into your body, kind of,” Lucy said. “So don’t try to move a whole lot, ’cause you’re connected to it.”

“Hurts,” Lynn said, weakly lifting her other arm.

“That’s ’cause they started the IV over there yesterday,” Lucy said, trying to remember everything Nora had explained to her as she rolled her over to Lynn’s bedside. “Your veins were flat like . . . like a worm that’s been stepped on, you know? They switched over to this arm today, and had a little more luck.”

Lucy brushed her hand over the deep purple bruise that had formed in the crook of Lynn’s other elbow. “You relax for now. There’s no reason for you to be worried, or . . .” Lucy trailed off, searching for the right word. “Or scared,” she finished.

Lynn struggled to open both eyes and gave Lucy a brief glance before they slid shut again. “Why do you look scared then?”

Lucy tightened her grip on Lynn’s wrist. “You were so close, Lynn. You were damn close to dying.”

“Close to nothing,” Lynn said vehemently, though it cost her breath to do so. “You said I wasn’t allowed to die without you. I’m still here.”

Lucy’s throat closed in on itself, and she fought against the tears, not wanting Lynn to open her eyes again only to see her crying. “Yeah,” she said. “You are.”

“Where the hell is here?”

“It’s a city called Las Vegas.”

“Well,” Lynn muttered as she dropped back into unconsciousness, “shit.”

Nora showed up later, her warm hands soothing in the dark.

“Lucy, are you asleep, little one?”

“Grandma?” Lucy asked, her groggy voice heavy with sleep and hope. There was a reassuring pressure on her arm, but the answer was disappointing.

“No, it’s me, Nora,” she said. “I’m here to check on you. You fell asleep in your wheelchair.” Clarity descended, and though it was pitch-dark inside the hospital, Lucy could feel Lynn’s alertness in the bed next to her.

There was the screech of the brake being taken off, and then Nora was rolling Lucy toward her own bed, the unexpected movement making her nauseous in the dark. She put her head down and felt Nora’s hands moving over her hair. “You all right?”

“Wasn’t ready to move is all,” Lucy said, taken aback by the easy familiarity with which Nora touched her. Though Lynn’s affections were true, she rarely showed them through touch.

“I’ll warn you next time,” she said gently, and Lucy felt strong arms beneath her as she was shifted over to her bed, the neglected sheet shockingly cool.

“Did your mother wake?”

“No,” Lucy said, relieved the dark masked her lie.

“I’m sorry.”

Lucy didn’t know what to say, so she lay still in the darkness.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better,” she answered. “Not well, but not nearly as bad.”

“That’s to be expected. You lost a lot of water.”

“Water, always water,” Lucy repeated. The wave of nausea returned as she remembered the river of rain closing over her head and sweeping her away.

Nora’s hands brought her back to reality as she checked Lucy’s pulse and felt for a fever. “The men who brought you in said you can witch it.”

“I can,” Lucy said, and felt the hand on her forehead tense at the answer.

“That’s good, little one, good for everyone.”

She’d begun to slide back into sleep before Nora’s words trailed off, but she jerked herself awake. “Why’d you call me that?”

Nora’s hands were gone, her voice suddenly distant in the dark. “Call you what?”

“Little one.”

There was a pause, and Lucy strained her eyes against the black to see if Nora was still there. “I had a child that was built small, like you. Now get some sleep.”

Footsteps retreated, and Lucy heard a door shut behind them. Moments later Lynn’s voice cut through the black.

“You told them?”

The words hung between their beds like a weight, and Lucy fought hard to sound confident when she spoke. “There wasn’t any choice. I’m sorry.”

“Who all knows?”

“I don’t know. The men who found me, Nora apparently.”

“So let’s assume everyone,” Lynn said, and the quiet descended again. “How many people are here?”

“I don’t know, Lynn,” Lucy said. “I’ve been awake about five more hours than you.”

“And what’d you learn in those five hours?”

“That we’re lucky we’re not dead, you especially. Nora and the bigger lady have some kind of medical training. We’re in a real hospital, but apparently they don’t have electricity.”

Lynn was silent again, but Lucy could feel her thinking in the dark, and her own mind ran over the thousand things she should’ve noticed while Lynn lay comatose.

“Those men that found you . . . did they hurt you in any way?”

“I’m fine, Lynn,” Lucy said.

“You understand what I’m ask—”

“I’m. Fine. You don’t need to assume that—”

“Everyone we meet is bad?”

“Yeah,” Lucy answered. “There are good people in the world, like Grandma. Like Stebbs and Fletcher.”

“There are,” Lynn said carefully, “but we’ll start with the assumption most people aren’t, and let them earn their way up.”

Nora’s warm touch and concerned tone flickered through Lucy’s mind. “Nora seems all right,” she said tentatively.

Lynn grunted in reply.

“What do we do?” Lucy asked, even though her foot ached horribly and sleep was toying with her brain again.

“I don’t know that there’s a lot of
we
involved. I’m draining myself just talking.”

“You’ve never exactly been chatty,” Lucy said. “So I think you’ll be fine.”

Lucy heard something sailing toward her through the dark, and a pillow hit her in the face.

“Nice shot.”

“I have my gifts,” Lynn said, and Lucy would’ve mistaken it for a joke if not for what came next. “Though they don’t seem wanted here.”

“What do you mean?”

“Where’s my gun?”

“It’s—” Lucy’s tongue was quick to supply an instant answer to the all-important question, but she couldn’t. “I don’t know.”

“The men who picked us up, did they take it?”

Lucy racked her brain, forcing the fevered car ride from the desert into high detail, but all she saw was Lynn’s limp body, her head lolling endlessly. “I don’t remember.”

“Nobody in this world leaves a high-powered rifle lying beside the road,” Lynn said. “They took it.”

A chill crept beneath Lucy’s skin that had nothing to do with the IV. She curled into herself under the thin sheet and tucked the edges under the sharp contours of her body.

“So what happens next?”

“We’re in your territory now, little one, and me without my gun. You tell me.”

Lucy lay in the dark, her mind at odds with her heart once again. Lynn’s innate distrust of people might be leading her into paranoia. These people had saved their lives, filled their bodies with water again. She was in a bed for the first time in months, her head resting on a pillow.