Prophet of the Badlands (The Awakened Book 1) (31 page)

Father chuckled. “She’s wild, hon. She doesn’t know any better.”

Karina moved around behind her and shook her arm until she dropped it back on the plate. After wiping her hands clean with a cloth, she gave a quick lesson on how to use a knife and fork. Father covered his mouth to hide his laughter at the faces Althea made. Leaving her to attempt the awkward task, Karina went back to her chair and demonstrated.

Trying to eat with a fork was frustrating. The blob of food kept falling back to the plate, and she stabbed at it like a spear, mashing it into bits. Despite Karina’s gentle encouragement, after five minutes, the fork and knife went flying over her shoulder and she had the enchilada in a two-fisted grip again, stuffing her face.

Father laughed, no longer able to contain it. Karina got up, but he waved her off. When the food was gone, Althea licked her hands clean and then the plate.

“Ella come como un perro, padre.” Karina shot a flat look at her father.

“Tomará tiempo.”

Karina looked at Althea, shaking her head. “We need to get you some real clothes.”

Althea frowned. “I like this clothes!” She clung to her skirt defensively. “It won’t break when I run and swim. Your clothes would.”

“Oh, you don’t have to run for your life anymore.” Karina ran a hand through Althea’s hair. Without all the dirt, it hung straight.

“She is still feral, Kari. It is going to take her time to adjust; you should not rush it along.”

“What is feral?” Althea looked over at him.

He leaned back in his seat, exhaling. “The way you have lived, without parents, without schooling… like a wild thing.”

“Oh.” Althea shrugged.

“At least let me find you a new shirt. That thing is going to fall apart, and you are getting too old to run around without a top.” She ruffled her hair.

“Den gave me this.” She bunched a fistful of the tattered cloth over her heart.

“It’s pre-war. It has holes in it and its barely hanging on. It’s only a shirt, and it’s not even a whole one… just a scrap of cloth.”

Althea’s eyes sank to the strip of metal around the table reflecting the glow in her gaze. Like Den, the shirt would not last forever. She wondered if the harem girls had been right; had he already forgotten her? “Okay.”

“Tomorrow I’ll make chorizo so you can practice with the fork.” Karina patted her on the head. “C’mon, help me with the dishes.”

Father gathered his things and went out to hunt; other men waited in a group by the porch and there were smiles, nods, and shoulder patting as he joined them. The girls gathered the dirty plates, forks, and cups from the table, leaving them in the sink while they went out back. Karina carried the metal tray of embers from the stove to the burning bin behind the house and added small pieces of scrap wood. One pail of warmed water would be suitable for the dishes.

As they sat in the fluttering orange glow, Karina told stories of suburbs, of backyards, and of houses. There was once this thing called “electricity” that could make light in the darkness and water magically hot from the sink. The water still came out of the tubes, if the tanks were full, but it was always cold. When Karina was younger than Althea, she had to drag buckets of water to the house from the middle of town; now they only did that when the pipes stopped working. Wisps of steam circled the top of the pail and the embers threatened to die out; the water as warm as it was going to get without using more wood.

Once more inside, they stood at the sink, Karina elbow-deep in foaming water and working a cloth over the plates. Althea took each one from her in turn, drying it and setting it in a neat stack on the counter. This ritual, this “doing the dishes,” was once something that happened all the time.

“Why use plates if you just have to wash them?” She took a cup and started working the towel around it.

With a chuckle, Karina shook her head. “Because, that is how people eat.”

“My magic knife was stolen.” Althea put the dry cup on the counter next to the plates.

“Father is keeping it safe. Little girls don’t need such things. You can ask him for it when you’re older.”

Althea glowered at the indignant frown that reflected at her from the pale green plate she dried. Being called a little girl felt insulting at first, but here she did not need to go fishing, or hide from people who wanted to steal her. This was an entirely new world.

“Well, that’s the last of them.” Karina stuck her arm into the water and pulled the stopper. “Want me to show you how to braid your hair?” She grinned.

“Will it hurt?” Althea blinked.

“No, silly.” She drew in a breath to continue, but stopped at a heavy banging at the front of the house.

Althea jumped at the noise and crawled under the sink, trembling. Edging away from the cabinet doors, she crawled deeper, around old rusted cans and numerous startled insects. Thinking they had already come to take her, she cried. Karina’s muttering grew faint as she walked out to see who had come to visit. She expected Karina’s scream any second, but instead heard a frantic man.

“Luisa se está muriendo! Luisa se está muriendo!” The voice shouted twice and fell to an indistinct murmur.

Footfalls on the kitchen floor thudded closer. Althea cowered away. The doors flew open and Karina crouched and held out a hand.

“Easy. Hey there, calm down. No one will hurt you.”

Althea sniffled and relaxed, having sensed no alarm in the older girl’s mood. She let Karina pull her out into the light and stood. A man, younger than Father, waited in the doorway, grinding a denim hat between his hands. On him, she sensed great alarm and worry. She knew right away someone he loved was in danger.

“Felipe’s wife, Luisa… She’s having a baby and it’s not going well.” Karina cried now, remembering her own mother.

Althea ran to him eagerly, all traces of fear gone. “Take me.”

Karina tugged her along by the hand, following him through the streets of Querq to a boxy once-vehicle now serving as a house. A small crowd gathered outside, chanting in Spanish, and some held candles. The sound of Doctor Ruiz yelling echoed through the thin walls. The crowd parted for her, and she ran ahead under a faded blue canvas awning, up the folding metal steps, and into the side of the thing.

A woman lay on the kitchen table amid an array of blankets and pillows, swollen with the presence of an unborn baby. She had Karina by a few years, and dripped with sweat. People swarmed over her in a panic as Ruiz rambled on about not having this or that. The nurse dabbed at blood where it welled out of her, and Felipe ran past Althea to hold his wife’s hand. Luisa had taken on a pallid complexion and looked only vaguely aware of his presence.

Ruiz looked up, holding a large knife darkened by candle fire. Seeing Althea, he appeared for a moment torn between feeling upstaged and concerned.

“She has lost a lot of blood; I don’t think…” He stopped when her husband glared at him.

Althea put her hands on the distended belly. As the shapes formed in her mind, she became aware of the woman’s energies and also those of the infant.

“The baby is pointed wrong.” Althea opened her eyes. “He is upside down.”

The man squeezed his wife’s hand. “You hear that Luisa! It’s a boy!”

Ruiz grumbled and nodded, hovering over her with the knife.

“Don’t hurt her.” Althea blurted.

He froze. “I can get the baby out. It’s called a Caesarian section.”

She had never heard that before, but did remember seeing a knife used in a birthing once. Nothing about his presence radiated malice, so she relented.

“If you… I dunno, if you can do anything for Luisa, do it. I’ll handle the baby.” His tone implied he accepted there was nothing he could do to save the woman.

Luisa cried out, arching her back and lapsing into a violent shudder before falling still with a vacant stare at the ceiling. Felipe wailed. Ignoring the chaos around her, Althea leapt forward and grabbed the woman’s side, forcing power into the shapeless forms in her mind. The shouting muted as if her head had gone underwater. The heart-shape was still and unmoving―it had stopped. Althea felt the life wanting to slip away, anchored only where her hands touched the woman’s belly.

The heart-shape had not been idle too long to save. She would not allow Luisa to give up. Her fingers dug in as she made a diminutive grunt and wrestled with Luisa’s torn energies. The blood-presence surged as she forced Luisa’s body to create more.

In her mind, she spoke in a loud authoritative tone.
No Luisa, not yet. You are too young.

The sound of a single heartbeat rolled like thunder through their linked consciousness.

She shuddered and did it again. The heart thumped once more, and a second and third time, picking up speed until it beat at the rate it should. Althea focused on small rips and tears surrounding the infant that allowed the blood-presence to go places it did not belong.

Luisa’s body mended. The shapes split open, divided by a neat line spreading from left to right near the center. With a hamster’s growl, Althea concentrated and forced it closed. Again, it ruptured and again she mended it.

“Kid…” Ruiz’s voice pierced the depths; the noise of the room flooded in. He sounded uneasy. “Hey kid…”

Althea looked up. “I’m not finished.”

Luisa moved, interrupting her husband sobbing.

Ruiz looked as though he’d seen a ghost. “I’m trying to cut the baby out and the skin is sealing behind the knife.” He pointed at three red lines across her stomach, blood trails with no wound. “Let me get the child out first.”

She offered a weak smile. “I’m sorry.”

“Luisa should be bleeding from this…” He looked at the incision, speaking with grim finality. “She must have lost so―”

“I’m telling her not to bleed.” Althea exhaled. “Hurry up.”

With a skilled touch, he extracted a healthy baby boy and tended to him. As soon as Althea saw the infant clear of his mother, she closed her eyes and the rush of chaos plunged into placid darkness. A surge of psionic power washed through the shuddering mother. After mending damage, purging infection, and forcing Luisa’s body to reclaim hemorrhaged blood, she swooned into the table from the exertion. Althea propped herself up on her arms and gasped for air as her senses re-entered the outside world.

Color returned to Luisa’s skin, and there was not as much as a scar visible. Felipe scooped Althea up into a fierce hug and wept on her shoulder. She could not understand his words, but knew what he said. He set Althea in a chair, and doted on his wife as the women cleaned Luisa up and covered her with a blanket before placing the wailing infant in the arms of his mother.

Ruiz flopped into a chair next to her, handing her a towel to clean her hands. He looked at her for a moment, still appearing to struggle with what he had seen. “Nice work.”

Althea smiled at the baby. “You too.”

lthea examined the new garment, turning to look at herself and tugging at the clean white cloth. Karina had found this thing she called a “tank top” for her; it fit snug to her chest with only a hand’s width of bare skin above her skirt, and left her shoulders open. The rag Den gave her went into a drawer; she would keep it to remember him even if she no longer wore it. Her skirt she would wear as long as she could; it suffered the rigors of the Badlands better than cloth. She knew she would eventually grow out of it, and hoped by then she could trust fate to let her keep this new life.