Wanderers (4 page)

“They're fools,” he said at last, nodding at the others. Then he, too, headed off.

The only one remaining was Rafe. Both his swagger and his potbelly were long gone. Yet he still had the air of someone with ambition, despite how he had been humbled.

“Too bad,” was all he said. Then he shuffled past them and down the sidewalk.

At last, Caleb and Esther were alone.

“So I guess that's it,” Esther said. “We're staying.”

“No,” Caleb said. “You were right. Guess it'll just be us.”

He was about to head inside to blow out the candles that lit the tables, but something stopped him.

Esther had wrapped her arms around him from behind, squeezing him tight.

Esther alone sat by the bedroom window, gazing at the moonlit street.

It was the middle of the night, yet she had been unable to sleep, torn by doubt.

Where would they go? How would they manage on their own? They had so few supplies as it was, here in town; how could they last on the open road?

Esther glanced at the bed, where Caleb breathed evenly, and the cradle, where Kai was punching out a little fist. From the living room, she could hear Joseph turning over, for what seemed like the hundredth time. In sleep, they all appeared so vulnerable. It seemed impossible that the four of them could travel anywhere, alone.

Were the others in town right? Should they stay?

Then, without warning, she felt the floor below her shudder.

At first, Esther had the irrational thought that their home was being robbed again. Someone else had come to steal their food, and was trying a different trick to get them to leave.

But then the floor rocked again, and this time she felt something brush the top of her head. When she reached up and touched it, her hand came away chalky with plaster dust.

Confused, she glanced across the room. The entire floor of the bedroom seemed to be rippling, lifting the furniture it supported like leaves on the surface of a lake. With a cracking and popping sound, gaps opened and widened between its wooden planks. For a second, Esther was transfixed: It was like a vision from a dream.

Then something fell and crashed from a shelf in the kitchen.

In the living room, she could hear the bookshelf that had belonged to her sister buck and tip, sending its contents tumbling to the floor. Esther heard a faint yell outside, down the street. She looked out the window and saw another uncanny sight.

By moonlight, a crooked line was working its way down Main Street as if drawn by a giant, invisible hand. Then the road itself began to separate, to crack open like a piece of broken plastic.

By now, Caleb had joined Esther, Kai in his arms. As the floor buckled beneath their feet, they both stumbled, clinging to one another. At the same moment, a wooden beam broke through the ceiling in an explosion of plaster and smashed onto the bed. Esther only had time to see Joseph, standing in the bedroom doorway, staring in total confusion. In the next moment, another beam came crashing down and the window behind her exploded, showering her with broken glass.

Somehow, they made it to the wooden table in the living room. There was no room for all four of them underneath and yet they managed to fit by huddling close together, while around them, the world seemed to end.

All they could do was wait.

When the sun rose, Esther saw that Prin was gone.

Most of the buildings on Main Street had vanished, replaced by piles of rubble and skeletons of frames that still drifted dust. The few storefronts left standing were in precarious condition, with jagged metal rods protruding from fallen roofs; glass from windows had exploded onto the sidewalks, crunching underfoot in glittering shards.

The crack that ran down the center of the street had opened into a jagged chasm. Long-dead cars that had been parked along the street had fallen in completely or stuck halfway out like toys, their hoods and windshields smashed.

As if in a dream, Esther headed down the street with Kai in her arms. Caleb was next to her; Joseph trailed behind. She sensed rather than saw that others were joining them: More than a dozen townspeople who had also survived emerged from the ruins in shock, still in their sleeping clothes.

And then she saw the first body.

A young boy lay facedown in a mountain of rubble, crushed by a metal beam. As her unbelieving eyes took in the sight, Esther realized that she was surrounded by at least half a dozen more bodies, bloodied and motionless amid piles of rubble and brick.

And those were only the ones she could see.

One young boy was crouched by the remains of one building, clutching his knees as he rocked back and forth. His hair and face were white with plaster dust.

“My sister.” He sounded strangely detached; he might have been commenting on the weather as he pointed at something brown that protruded from the wreckage. With a start, Esther saw that it was a slim bare leg, the toenails still painted a chipped blue. “That's her.”

There was nothing to do; Esther and the others kept walking. The only sound was when a building shifted, raining fresh debris onto the street. But other than that, the four were enveloped by an eerie silence.

Movement caught Esther's eye. In the shadow of a ruined store, she noticed another boy who knelt, facing away. To her shock, she saw he was going through the pockets of someone who lay partly crushed by a wooden dresser; he had just removed a Swiss Army knife and was examining its blades. This he added to a pack of other tools he had obviously stolen.

It was Silas, the boy who had robbed their home. Sensing her gaze, he turned and caught her eye. Then he shrugged and went back to his business.

Suddenly, there was another sound, faint yet distinct.

“
Help.
”

The sound snapped Esther from her torpor.

“Come on,” she said to Caleb. There was a moment before he too emerged from a daze.

“Yes,” he said. “Let's go.”

Joseph took the sleeping baby. Then Esther and Caleb ran to the building where the voice had come from. Working as quickly as they dared, they managed to remove a section of roof, which allowed them to clear away the bricks underneath. In minutes, they uncovered a bed that was still intact, with blankets and pillows on it.

But there was no sign of survivors. And soon the cries grew fainter and fainter until they stopped altogether.

Caleb continued for a few more minutes before giving up. But Esther refused to quit. In vain, she tugged at a wooden beam that was twice her size, trying to gain access to more of the rooms.

Caleb watched for a while before he drew her away.

“It's all right,” he said. “We did what we could.”

As they continued down the street, still others joined them, one by one. While many had survived, at least a few dozen, most were injured, some of them badly. A girl, her face nearly unrecognizable under a blackening mask of dried blood, lunged at Caleb and clung to his arm.

It was Rhea.

“He's gone, my partner.” Her mouth was a pitiable twist, and tears ran down her cheeks, leaving white streaks. “I tried to pull him out, but he was already dead.” She turned to the others, her voice rising. “What did he do to deserve this? What did any of us do?”

She was nearly screaming. If unchecked, Caleb realized, her hysteria would spread through the townspeople like fire.

“Nothing,” he said, cutting her off. “Can't you understand? No one did nothing.”

Someone unexpected spoke up.

“Not now, anyway.”

Holding Kai, Joseph was in the rear of the crowd, ignored and invisible as usual. But now, he spoke with animation, his hands fluttering. “A long time ago, I think people
did
do something wrong. To the air. The water. Not just here, but all over. And that's what caused all of this.”

There was silence as people tried to digest his strange remarks. How could anyone do something wrong to the air or water? What the boy said made no sense whatsoever. They all turned to stare at Esther and Caleb.

“You knew,” Rhea said suddenly.

“What?”

“About Prin. You two knew we had to leave.”

Despite herself, Esther almost laughed. “We didn't know
this
would happen. We only said—”

“You were right,” one girl said.

“We should have left a long time ago,” another boy murmured.

Caleb realized something crucial: They wanted to believe. Unlike Esther, he was aware of the ever-shifting power dynamics in any group. The same people who had turned on them the night before were now frightened and uncertain. Now was the moment to use their fear to everyone's advantage.

“We just tried to tell you this was no place to stay,” he said.

Relief rippled over the faces of the crowd. A few whispered, “Yes.”

“But if we leave Prin, you got to listen,” he added. “And everybody's got to pitch in. All right?”

Meekly, they nodded again.

“There's a town nearby that might have supplies,” Caleb continued. “Schroon Lake. It's just a few days away and I know I can get us there.”

Standing in the back of the group, Rafe was watching. He too had been injured but not by the quake itself; he had fallen downstairs in the dark, bruising his hip and twisting his ankle. While his wounds were minor, he exaggerated them by leaning on a makeshift cane.

“Excuse me?” he said. “Excuse me, but . . .”

He paused until he had everyone's attention. He knew something the others didn't. And if he played it correctly, it would be his trump card.

Back when he used to visit the Source, Rafe would be kept waiting for hours by Levi's guards. It was, in retrospect, an insult, but at the time, Rafe had chosen not to see it that way. Instead, he had used the time to listen in on the guards' gossip. Mostly, they traded stories of far-off places and strange sights they had seen on their travels to procure goods. One tale in particular had caught his attention; and now, he thought, was a good time to share it.

“I can take us somewhere better than that,” he said. “Someplace where you don't got to scrape by, on account there's food and water and for everyone. It's called Mundreel.”

A few leaned in to hear better. Even Esther and Caleb didn't interrupt; they, too, were curious to hear what Rafe knew, or thought he knew.

“What do you mean?” someone asked.

“Where is it?” asked another.

“I got directions,” Rafe said. “It's a clear route. We leave now, we can be there in a week.”

This wasn't exactly true. What the boy
had
were a few crude notes he had scribbled hours after he had eavesdropped on the guards, a handful of mostly illegible words and pictures. “Mundreel is bigger than a regular town. In fact, it's bigger than ten Prins set end on end. There's room enough for everyone.” He had left the best for last. “And I hear people there live a long time, way past eighteen or nineteen.”

As Rafe had hoped, the desperate survivors were warming to the idea. A few whispered to another, and a ripple of excitement passed through the group.

But Joseph spoke up once more. “I'm not sure that's true.”

“What?” Rafe said. He was smiling unpleasantly.

“Mundreel may be real,” Joseph continued, his voice earnest. “Or at least, used to be; I've seen it on my maps. But we don't know if it still exists . . . or even if it does, that it's any better off than here. Everything you're saying sounds like an old wives' tale.” He paused, then added as explanation, “That means it's made-up.”

Rafe looked with distaste at the boy who was challenging him—the
man
, if it were really true how old Joseph was. To him, Joseph was the town nut, even if he had read the most books. Who knew? Perhaps it was all that reading that had softened his mind in the first place. Still, he worried that the others might take him seriously.

“Well,” Rafe said, “you admit the place exists. That's all that matters.” Then he turned his back on Joseph, to end the discussion. But someone else spoke up.

“I've heard the same stories about Mundreel,” Caleb said. “But never from anyone who actually been there. Or come back.”

By now, Rafe's face was flushed with annoyance.

“So you're saying we should go just anywhere,” he retorted. “I'm saying we go somewhere good.” He turned to the others. “Because believe me, once you see Mundreel, you won't want to leave.” He let this sink in. “I leave it up to you. You can listen to me. Or you can trust this one.” He jerked a thumb once, at Joseph. Then Rafe pressed on his handmade cane and winced. “Let's take a vote.”

From a quick show of hands, Mundreel was the clear favorite. And since he knew the most about their destination, Rafe was asked to be their leader.

Rafe suppressed a smile. He had once yearned to serve a powerful leader in Prin. In a place as fabulous as Mundreel, he might even
become
the powerful leader.

The first thing, of course, was to get there.

But he would deal with that later.

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

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

F
IFTY-THREE RESIDENTS OF
P
RIN HAD SURVIVED, FEWER THAN HALF OF
those who lived there. For the dead whose bodies could be retrieved, there were hasty burials on the outskirts of town. The others had to be left where they were. Within hours, there were already more tremors that shook the earth, sending even more buildings crashing to the ground.

The first evening, people huddled together in one of the few structures that appeared intact, a bank on the main street. All night, they could hear the marble walls and ceiling creak and shift around them; and in the morning, everyone was covered in fine dust and grit that had sifted down. It was clearly too dangerous to remain in town much longer.