let my eyes close.
It seemed like just minutes later when the morning dawned, blindingly bright and already hot enough to
have me sweating. I was crusted in dirt and rocks when I woke; my right arm was pinned under me and
had lost feeling. I shook out the tingles and then reached into my pack for some water.
Melanie did not approve, but I ignored her. I looked for the half-empty bottle I’d last drunk from,
rummaging through the fulls and empties until I began to see a pattern.
With a slowly growing sense of alarm, I started counting. I counted twice. There were two more empties
than there were fulls. I’d already used up more than half my water supply.
I told you that you were drinking too much.
I didn’t answer her, but I pulled the pack on without taking a drink. My mouth felt horrible, dry and
sandy and tasting of bile. I tried to ignore that, tried to stop running my sandpaper tongue over my gritty
teeth, and started walking.
My stomach was harder to ignore than my mouth as the sun rose higher and hotter above me. It twisted
and contracted at regular intervals, anticipating meals that didn’t appear. By afternoon, the hunger had
gone from uncomfortable to painful.
This is nothing,Melanie reminded me wryly.We’ve been hungrier.
I was beginning to despair when the good news came. As I swung my head across the horizon with a
routine, halfhearted movement, the bulbous shape of the dome jumped out at me from the middle of a
northern line of small peaks. The missing part was only a faint indentation from this vantage point.
Close enough,Melanie decided, as thrilled as I was to be making some progress. I turned north eagerly,
my steps lengthening.Keep a lookout for the next. She remembered another formation for me, and I
started craning my head around at once, though I knew it was useless to search for it this early.
It would be to the east. North and then east and then north again. That was the pattern.
The lift of finding another milestone kept me moving despite the growing weariness in my legs. Melanie
urged me on, chanting encouragements when I slowed, thinking of Jared and Jamie when I turned
apathetic. My progress was steady, and I waited till Melanie okayed each drink, even though the inside
of my throat felt as though it was blistering.
I had to admit that I was proud of myself for being so tough. When the dirt road appeared, it seemed
like a reward. It snaked toward the north, the direction I was already headed, but Melanie was skittish.
I don’t like the look of it,she insisted.
The road was just a sallow line through the scrub, defined only by its smoother texture and lack of
vegetation. Ancient tire tracks made a double depression, centered in the single lane.
When it goes the wrong way, we’ll leave it.I was already walking down the middle of the tracks.It’s
easier than weaving through the creosote and watching out for cholla.
She didn’t answer, but her unease made me feel a little paranoid. I kept up my search for the next
formation—a perfectM, two matching volcanic points—but I also watched the desert around me more
carefully than before.
Because I was paying extra attention, I noticed the gray smudge in the distance long before I could make
out what it was. I wondered if my eyes were playing tricks on me and blinked against the dust that
clouded them. The color seemed wrong for a rock, and the shape too solid for a tree. I squinted into the
brightness, making guesses.
Then I blinked again, and the smudge suddenly jumped into a structured shape, closer than I’d been
thinking. It was some kind of house or building, small and weathered to a dull gray.
Melanie’s spike of panic had me dancing off the narrow lane and into the dubious cover of the barren
brush.
Hold on,I told her.I’m sure it’s abandoned.
How do you know?She was holding back so hard that I had to concentrate on my feet before I could
move them forward.
Who would live out here? We souls live for society.I heard the bitter edge to my explanation and
knew it was because of where I now stood—physically and metaphorically in the middle of nowhere.
Melanie had no patience for my personal crisis—she wanted me to get far away from that building as
fast as possible. Her thoughts yanked and twisted at mine, pulling me out of my introspection.
Calm down,I ordered, trying to focus my thoughts, to separate them from hers.If there is anything
that actually lives here, it would be human. Trust me on this; there is no such thing as a hermit
among souls. Maybe your Uncle Jeb —
She rejected that thought harshly.No one could survive out in the open like this. Your kind would
have searched any habitation thoroughly. Whoever lived here ran or became one of you. Uncle
Jeb would have a better hiding place.
And if whoever lived here became one of us,I assured her,then they left this place. Only a human
would live this way.… I trailed off, suddenly afraid, too.
What?She reacted strongly to my fright, freezing us in place. She scanned my thoughts, looking for
something I’d seen to upset me.
But I’d seen nothing new.Melanie, what if there are humans out here—not Uncle Jeb and Jared
and Jamie? What if someone elsefound us?
She absorbed the idea slowly, thinking it through.You’re right. They’d kill us immediately. Of course.
I tried to swallow, to wash the taste of terror from my dry mouth.
There won’t be anyone else. How could there be?she reasoned.Your kind are far too thorough.
Only someone already in hiding would have had a chance. So let’s go check it out—you’re sure
there are none of you, and I’m sure there are none of me. Maybe we can find something helpful,
something we can use as a weapon.
I shuddered at her thoughts of sharp knives and long metal tools that could be turned into clubs.No
weapons.
Ugh. How did such spineless creaturesbeatus?
Stealth and superior numbers. Any one of you, even your young, is a hundred times as dangerous
as one of us. But you’re like one termite in an anthill. There are millions of us, all working
together in perfect harmony toward our goal.
Again, as I described the unity, I felt the dragging sense of panic and disorientation. Who was I?
We kept to the creosote as we approached the little structure. It looked to be a house, just a small
shack beside the road, with no hint at all of any other purpose. The reason for its location here was a
mystery—this spot had nothing to offer but emptiness and heat.
There was no sign of recent habitation. The door frame gaped, doorless, and only a few shards of glass
I was able to contain my anxiety as I walked hesitantly to the vacant door frame; we must be just as
alone here as we had been all day and all yesterday.
The shade the dark entry promised drew me forward, trumping my fears with its appeal. I still listened
intently, but my feet moved ahead with swift, sure steps. I darted through the doorway, moving quickly to
one side so as to have a wall at my back. This was instinctual, a product of Melanie’s scavenging days. I
stood frozen there, unnerved by my blindness, waiting for my eyes to adjust.
The little shack was empty, as we’d known it would be. There were no more signs of occupation inside
than out. A broken table slanted down from its two good legs in the middle of the room, with one rusted
metal chair beside it. Patches of concrete showed through big holes in the worn, grimy carpet. A
kitchenette lined the wall with a rusted sink, a row of cabinets—some doorless—and a waist-high
refrigerator that hung open, revealing its moldy black insides. A couch frame sat against the far wall, all
the cushions gone. Still mounted above the couch, only a little crooked, was a framed print of dogs
playing poker.
Homey,Melanie thought, relieved enough to be sarcastic.It’s got more decor than your apartment.
I was already moving for the sink.
Dream on,Melanie added helpfully.
Of course it would be wasteful to have water running to this secluded place; the souls managed details
like that better than to leave such an anomaly behind. I still had to twist the ancient knobs. One broke off
in my hand, rusted through.
I turned to the cupboards next, kneeling on the nasty carpet to peek carefully inside. I leaned away as I
opened the door, afraid I might be disturbing one of the venomous desert animals in its lair.
The first was empty, backless, so that I could see the wooden slats of the outside wall. The next had no
door, but there was a stack of antique newspapers inside, covered with dust. I pulled one out, curious,
shaking the dirt to the dirtier floor, and read the date.
From human times,I noted. Not that I needed a date to tell me that.
“Man Burns Three-Year-Old Daughter to Death,” the headline screamed at me, accompanied by a
picture of an angelic blond child. This wasn’t the front page. The horror detailed here was not so hideous
as to rate priority coverage. Beneath this was the face of a man wanted for the murders of his wife and
two children two years before the print date; the story was about a possible sighting of the man in
Mexico. Two people killed and three injured in a drunk-driving accident. A fraud and murder
investigation into the alleged suicide of a prominent local banker. A suppressed confession setting an
admitted child molester free. House pets found slaughtered in a trash bin.
I cringed, shoving the paper away from me, back into the dark cupboard.
Those were the exceptions, not the norm,Melanie thought quietly, trying to keep the fresh horror of
my reaction from seeping into her memories of those years and recoloring them.
Her answer was acidic.If you wanted to cleanse the planet, you could have blown it up.
Despite what your science fiction writers dream, we simply don’t have the technology.
She didn’t think my joke was funny.
Besides,I added,that would have been such a waste. It’s a lovely planet. This unspeakable desert
excepted, of course.
That’s how we realized you were here, you know,she said, thinking of the sickening news headlines
again.When the evening news was nothing but inspiring human-interest stories, when pedophiles
and junkies were lining up at the hospitals to turn themselves in, when everything morphed into
Mayberry, that’s when you tipped your hand.
“What an awful alteration!” I said dryly, turning to the next cupboard.
I pulled the stiff door back and found the mother lode.
“Crackers!” I shouted, seizing the discolored, half-smashed box of Saltines. There was another box
behind it, one that looked like someone had stepped on it. “Twinkies!” I crowed.
Look!Melanie urged, pointing a mental finger at three dusty bottles of bleach at the very back of the
cupboard.
What do you want bleach for?I asked, already ripping into the cracker box.To throw in someone’s
eyes? Or to brain them with the bottle?
To my delight, the crackers, though reduced to crumbs, were still inside their plastic sleeves. I tore one
open and started shaking the crumbs into my mouth, swallowing them half chewed. I couldn’t get them
into my stomach fast enough.
Open a bottle and smell it,she instructed, ignoring my commentary.That’s how my dad used to store
water in the garage. The bleach residue kept the water from growing anything.
In a minute.I finished one sleeve of crumbs and started on the next. They were very stale, but
compared to the taste in my mouth, they were ambrosia. When I finished the third, I became aware that
the salt was burning the cracks in my lips and at the corners of my mouth.
I heaved out one of the bleach bottles, hoping Melanie was right. My arms felt weak and noodley,
barely able to lift it. This concerned us both. How much had our condition deteriorated already? How
much farther would we be able to go?
The bottle’s cap was so tight, I wondered if it had melted into place. Finally, though, I was able to twist
it off with my teeth. I sniffed at the opening carefully, not especially wanting to pass out from bleach
fumes. The chemical scent was very faint. I sniffed deeper. It was water, definitely. Stagnant, musty
water, but water all the same. I took a small mouthful. Not a fresh mountain stream, but wet. I started
guzzling.
The last cupboard was empty.
As soon as the hunger pangs had eased slightly, Melanie’s impatience began to leak into my thoughts.
Feeling no resistance this time, I quickly loaded my spoils into my pack, pitching the empty water bottles
into the sink to make room. The bleach jugs were heavy, but theirs was a comforting weight. It meant I
wouldn’t stretch out to sleep on the desert floor thirsty and hungry again tonight. With the sugar energy
beginning to buzz through my veins, I loped back out into the bright afternoon.
CHAPTER 12
Failed
It’s impossible! You’ve got it wrong! Out of order! That can’t be it!”
I stared into the distance, sick with disbelief that was turning quickly to horror.
Yesterday morning I’d eaten the last mangled Twinkie for breakfast. Yesterday afternoon I’d found the
double peak and turned east again. Melanie had given me what she promised was the last formation to
find. The news had made me nearly hysterical with joy. Last night, I’d drunk the last of the water. That
was day four.
This morning was a hazy memory of blinding sun and desperate hope. Time was running out, and I’d
searched the skyline for the last milestone with a growing sense of panic. I couldn’t see any place where
it could fit; the long, flat line of a mesa flanked by blunt peaks on either end, like sentinels. Such a thing
would take space, and the mountains to the east and north were thick with toothy points. I couldn’t see
where the flat mesa could be hiding between them.
Midmorning—the sun was still in the east, in my eyes—I’d stopped to rest. I’d felt so weak that it
frightened me. Every muscle in my body had begun to ache, but it was not from all the walking. I could
feel the ache of exertion and also the ache from sleeping on the ground, and these were different from the
new ache. My body was drying out, and this ache was my muscles protesting the torture of it. I knew
that I couldn’t keep going much longer.
I’d turned my back on the east to get the sun off my face for a moment.
That’s when I’d seen it. The long, flat line of the mesa, unmistakable with the bordering peaks. There it
