Wanderers (14 page)

Esther nodded.

The sisters shared a glance, and the older one gave a slight shrug. At that, the young one stepped forward and handed Esther her bottle. The soda was warm, flat, and tasted like plastic; yet it was delicious. Forcing herself not to take too much, Esther swallowed a few long sips. Then with difficulty, she handed the bottle back.

“Is there,” Esther said, “nothing else you could spare? We are nine of us.”

Again, the sisters glanced at each other and the older one nodded. The little one disappeared into the store. Moments later, she returned, barely able to support two large soda bottles and several packets of food, which she carried pressed to her chin: dried peas, cough drops, coffee. Esther held each item for a moment as if to savor it before placing it in the wagon. Then she looked up at the girls.

“Saying thanks isn't enough,” she said. “But thanks.”

The younger one shrugged it off. “Where you from?”

“A place called Prin. We had to leave on account of the earthquake.” The girls nodded in obvious sympathy and Esther felt a flicker of hope. “How are you folks set around here? You got enough for more to stay?”

The older one shook her head. “Me and her, we were just getting by before. Now, everyone around here plans on moving on. Soon.”

“Where you headed?” asked the younger one.

“Mundreel. Ever heard of it?”

The little girl shook her head, but the older one spoke up. “Some people from around here went there once, I think. It was a while ago.”

“You ever get word from them?”

The girl shrugged. “They musta liked it. Because they never come back.”

“Got any idea which way they went?”

The older girl shook her head. “Sorry.”

Esther knew she had to get back to Kai and the others; it was several miles on a hilly road. “Well,” she said. “I better go.”

As she remounted her bicycle, the older girl spoke up. “I reckon you could ask Aras.”

“Who?”

“Aras. He used to be a guide. Or so he say.”

Esther debated whether to stay or go; she didn't think another half hour's wait would do any harm. And the idea of a guide sounded promising.

“Where can I find him?” she said.

It was a large, strange rectangle of a building, windowless and with only one floor. A sign spanned an area above the large entrance, with a few random letters embedded there that made no sense. There was a rounded, glassed-in cage adjacent to the front door and next to it was a torn poster with the unpronounceable word
MATINEE
.

Esther entered the building. The daylight that spilled in the doorway revealed a medium-size room dominated by a steel-topped counter, with two curtained doors on the far wall leading to greater darkness. Broken glass scattered across a deeply stained carpet crunched underfoot as she picked her way across.

“Hello?” There was no answer.

But she did notice the smell. It was an acrid aroma, sweet and heavy, that mixed smoke with vegetation; it made her recoil. Still, she was able to follow the scent as it deepened across the room, through one of the doors, past a thick curtain made of a plush and dusty fabric.

“Hello?”

Esther could tell from the sound that she had moved into a vast space with a high ceiling. She was forced to walk with her hands held in front of her, feeling her way in the dark. As she moved forward, she bumped into what turned out to be a row of attached folding seats, upholstered with heavy metal backs. There were many such rows, broken and torn, yet arranged in an even pattern that filled the room. As her eyes adjusted, she saw that a veritable sea of trash swamped the place. Soon she could make out a far wall, which gleamed faintly silver; it appeared to be made of some shiny material that was torn and stained.

The smell was coming from the front row.

Faintly lit by the glow of the wall, a shadowy figure sat, almost lay, its long legs propped up on the edge of the small stage that ran across the front of the room. There was a bright orange dot in the darkness. It moved slightly, and Esther realized it was the lit tip of an object the person held to its lips, sucking in audibly before expelling smoke with the awful smell.

“Excuse me?” Esther called.

The response wasn't human.

Great bursts of barking broke out. Some kind of wild animal erupted from the darkness. It came bounding up the aisle toward her; Esther could hear the rapid scrabbling of its nails on the floor and the click of its teeth, could practically feel its hot breath on her face. There was nowhere to run, and in desperation, she threw her arms up to protect herself as best she could.

And then it stopped.

With a sudden twang and the clanking of metal chain, the dog gave a sharp yip as it was yanked backward, having reached the end of its tether.

“Pilot,” the person murmured from the front row. “That's enough. Shut up now.”

The dog obeyed, quieting down instantly. Then the figure rose from its seat and turned to face Esther.

“Here,” he said. Something flew through the dark air, and somehow Esther managed to catch it. It was a firestarter. She clicked it, and by the light of its small flame, she could finally see.

A boy had risen from his seat to face her, using one hand to hold on to the edge of the stage. In the flickering light, Esther saw that he was bone thin, not much taller than she was, with matted dark hair that fell past his shoulders in thick locks. Even though he had been sitting in close to pitch-blackness, his small oval glasses were dark.

With a stick used as a cane, he made his way with difficulty into the aisle. Smoke wafted from a small paper cylinder, which he held in his teeth.

“What can I do for you?”

“I'm looking for Aras, the guide,” Esther replied. Her heart was still pounding from her close encounter with the dog, which now lay in the aisle, panting, its dark eyes fixed on her.

“Oh,” he said, sounding perplexed. “What for?”

“I need to ask him something.”

As the boy came closer, Esther noticed that he used the backs of seats, leaning on them. When he reached the dog, he bent down and undid its chain. Then he held the animal's collar and allowed it to lead him the rest of the way.

With a start, Esther realized that the boy was blind.

When he reached her, the smoke smell was overwhelming. “Well,” he said. “You found him.”

Esther was stunned. “Oh!” was all she could manage to say.

“What you want?” he asked, ignoring the obvious shock in her voice. He seemed to be sixteen or so. “Need help getting someplace?”

She decided to be blunt. “Mundreel. You ever been?”

He didn't say anything for a moment. Then, “I been there,” he said, as if remembering something long ago. “Well, right outside, anyway. I left some people there, I think. Of course, it was a while ago, but . . . I don't think it's moved, or anything.” He chuckled.

Aras had a vague way about him that Esther found both confusing and annoying. Furthermore, she was nearly choking from the smell of the thing he was smoking, which he never removed from his mouth.

“Hey,” she blurted out. “Could you get rid of that?”

“What?” Aras asked, dumbly. “This?”

“Yeah. I can't breathe.”

The boy shrugged. Then he dropped and rubbed it out with a foot in a dusty boot. “It's just natural,” he muttered. “From the earth itself.”

“Look,” said Esther. By now, her voice was grating with irritation. “I got to go. Thanks anyway.” She turned to leave.

“So what are you gonna give me?”

Esther stopped halfway up the aisle. “What?”

“To get you there. I'll take food and water. But I'm willing to take whatever you got, if I like it enough.” He laughed again.

“I'm not asking you,” Esther said, almost laughing, too, at his presumption.

“You ain't gonna get there yourself. I mean, you might get there. But dead.” His brow furrowed, as he considered if what he'd said made sense. He seemed to decide that it did. “You already way off the main road. There'll be plenty more detours and the roads are shot.” Still, Esther said nothing, and the boy seemed to lose patience. “Look, I don't got to do it. I don't got to make trouble for myself. I got a good life here.” And with that, Aras started back down the aisle.

Then he stopped and turned.

“Hey.” He gestured, snapping his fingers, and Esther realized he was talking about his firestarter. She almost tossed it at him when she remembered he couldn't see. After she retraced her steps and handed it over, however, Esther hesitated.

Although she hated to admit it, everything he said was true. It was clear they could not make it to Mundreel without a guide.

Aras was the only hope she had.

“Look,” she said. “I can't give you anything.”

Aras nodded. He already seemed distracted as he reached down for his dog and patted its muzzle.

“But if you get us there,” Esther continued, “you can share whatever we find. That's the best I can do.”

Aras brushed his long hair back, one side and then the other, appearing to think. Then he lifted his face and in the dark, she could have sworn that he saw her, in one way or another.

“Maybe,” he said, as if doing her a favor. “Maybe I just will.”

Esther realized that Aras had no bicycle of his own and so when the two emerged on the sidewalk, she had an idea.

“You can go in the wagon,” she said. “Or if you want, I can bike standing up and you can sit behind me and hold on.” It was the way she and Skar often gave each other rides when there was only one vehicle between them. But the moment she said it, she realized her mistake.

Aras bridled. “I ain't helpless,” he snapped.

Esther grew flustered. “I didn't say that. But it's a long way back, and I thought maybe—”

“Forget it,” he said. “I'd rather walk.”

With that, Aras slung his battered nylon backpack over his shoulder and pulled a length of chain from his pocket. “Hey Pilot,” he called, and the wolflike animal nuzzled his hands and allowed the makeshift leash to be attached to his collar. Then Aras straightened up.

“You just go on ahead,” he said to Esther. His tone was patronizing. “Pilot can pick up your trail.”

Esther bicycled at a fraction of her usual speed, weaving back and forth across the highway and glancing over her shoulder to see how the boy and his dog were doing. It wasn't encouraging. The two ambled along the road and into the woods that surrounded them, and even backtracked once or twice. Since Aras said nothing, it took Esther a while to realize he was actually communicating to his animal through a complex series of soft tongue clicks and whistles.

Throughout, the boy continued to smoke his bad-smelling papers. When he finished one, he would signal Pilot to halt, fumble in his pack for a small tin box, and roll up some more dried plants into a fresh package before lighting it. Each time, this operation seemed to take forever.

Esther and Aras didn't exchange a single word. When he finally spoke, what he said surprised her.

“We almost there.”

In fact, they were. Esther was so focused on Aras's progress, she hadn't noticed that the gas station was visible in the distance, on the side of the highway near the exit. Skar was a skilled tracker who relied on her eyes above all. Aras was blind:
Did he have some special ability?
As if he had heard her thoughts, the boy bristled.

“It ain't magic,” he snapped. “It's called listening.” And a minute later, Esther, too, could hear the faraway thread of voices.

It had taken her perhaps five times as long to return, and by now the sun was low in the afternoon sky. The others flocked around her, so frantic for whatever she had brought that at first they paid no attention to the boy and animal who stood at a distance. Esther could not hand out the bottles and packages fast enough; people seized them from her hands, ripped them open, and began eating and drinking on the spot. Only Joseph, who took a sip for himself, made sure to give a long drink to Kai.

Aras crouched by his dog and rubbed its ears. “They better slow down,” he remarked to no one in particular. “They gonna get sick.”

Again, Esther was unnerved by how much the boy seemed to know without seeing. Then she realized that anyone could hear the ravenous noises that filled the air.

“Tell them,” Aras insisted.

Esther hesitated, then spoke up. “Hey,” she said. “Slow down.” But no one paid attention.

“I bet half that stuff ain't even cooked,” Aras said. He had straightened up and now his voice rang out, arrogant and overbearing. “You eat too much, you gonna kill yourself. Or end up wishing you was dead, anyhow.”

In the silence that followed, the others turned to gaze at Esther's companion. They took in Aras's bony, disheveled appearance, his long hair, the reeking smoking paper still dangling from his mouth, and the wolflike animal that crouched by his feet with yellow fangs bared, panting. Then one by one, they turned to Esther.

“Who's this?” Silas asked.

“We can't take anyone else,” Eli said at the same time. “We don't got enough as it is.”

With everyone staring at her, Esther took a long swallow down a dry throat. She avoided eye contact, choosing instead to look at the ground. She especially dreaded Eli's reaction.

“This,” she said, “is our new guide.” She paused, then cleared her throat. “Aras here is going to help get us to Mundreel.”

Esther winced, bracing for the uproar that she knew would follow. Instead, there was a silence that was even more damning.

She looked up and saw the others studying Aras with open disbelief, distaste, and hostility. First Michal and then Joseph flinched; they had just picked up the terrible smell coming from not only Aras's smoking paper, but his hair and clothes. And Silas and Rhea were smiling at one another, giggling and whispering.