The Burn (10 page)

What am I doing following them? Dave has no idea who
I am and I will never be able to tell him. He’ll be repulsed—they
all will be—and I’ll wander out here on the Burn for the rest of my
life because my tongue is cut out and I’m from the colonies, and
people up here hate the colonies. How could I be so naive to think
this would have worked?

The clouds are clearing and the sun hangs fat and red
along the horizon. A large brick building hunkers up from the road
south of me. A narrow strip of trees and rocks separate it from the
Puget Sound. With Mary in the lead, the four figures climb steps
that lead to a door. This must be the settlement. A sign next to
the road says Junior High School. It is so different from our
curriculum corridors in the colony. Everything there is so sterile.
With the windows radiating light and the gentle murmur of voices,
this building pulses with life.

I ignore my previous instincts to hide. I am here to
meet these people, to become one of them. Scurrying through the
trees out of sight is no way to do that. I can at least go and peek
in a window. If they see me now, they see me.

I slide around the corner of the building and find a
low window. Long tables line up and down the room, and about fifty
people sit at them—people than I thought there'd be. A short row of
stainless steel carts with glass shields in front hold steaming
piles of food. Two people dish up food onto old, chipped plates.
There is a blue floral pattern on one, another is square and white.
Another is cream and rimmed in silver. How odd that they don’t
match. I think of Jessa. She’d probably like how eccentric it all
is.

Most of the people are about thirty or forty, though
there are some younger like me and older like my grandma. A couple
kids run around the tables, playing some dizzying game that I can’t
make out the rules to. Then my stomach falls.

There are watchers in every corner of the ceiling.
But no, the lenses are smashed. A monitor that could be the
great-grandfather to the one in my quarters hangs blank on the
wall.

Three of the survivors hunch around a small metal box
with knobs and an antennae.
Radio
, my Burn history lessons
fill in for me. Their brows knot and they listen intently. One of
them jots down notes every so often. Then one of them puts a hand
to her mouth and they look at each other. They wave others over.
Most of them stand around the radio when Dave and his group walk
in.

They come through a swinging door on the left side of
the room and an older woman stands up to greet them. She kisses
Red, and he hugs her tightly. His eyes crinkle along the corners
when he burrows his cheek in her silver hair.

I turn around and lean against the wall, sliding down
until I sit on the ground. I’m an intruder watching the intimate
homecoming. I take my pack off and wrap my arms around myself. I
can’t stay. They’re a family, and I’m not one of them. I look west.
The sun sets and lavender dark creeps around the school.

If I leave now, I’ll probably stumble into something
and kill myself. I’ll stay until first light. I dig the blanket out
of the pack and unfold it over myself. I contemplate an energy bar,
but without my tongue I can’t taste very well, and the memory of
vomiting the others up turns my stomach. My lips are tight with
thirst. I should go find water for my purifier, but I don’t want to
leave the faint comfort being near the settlement gives me.

I jump at a sound at the window. Curtains snap
closed. I look around. Almost all the windows on the second floor
are boarded up. All the windows on the ground floor are being
shuttered or curtained. A muffled voice says, “The windows all
dark?”

“Yeah, no light tonight.”

My sleepy mind spins. Why can’t they let any light
out? I feel cold without the light shining on me. I pull the
blanket up to my chin. When I close my eyes, all I hear is the pop
of gunfire. I see a man slump over the side of a boat. But the
images are far away, behind the haze of rain. I lay my head on the
pack and fall asleep.

In my dreams I hear voices swirl on the wind around
me.

“Who do you think she is?”

“She looks familiar to me.”

“She can’t have been wandering long. That or she
knows what she’s doing out here. She has some mild dehydration, but
that’s it.”

“I don’t recognize the pack. Looks military
issue.”

I feel them stiffen around me. A hand on my arm,
turning it over.

“No tracker.”

“She cut it out?”

“No tracker as in she’s never had one.”

A short breath. Then rough fingertips gently touch my
face, brushing the hair from my eyes. “Yeah, she definitely looks
familiar.”

I crack open my eyes. It’s raining again, and the
water beads on the plastic sheeting and pours off on either side. I
shiver.

“Look, guys, she’s cold. I think we should bring her
in.”

Then I recognize Mary’s voice. There’s a hard edge to
it. “We have no idea who she is.” She pulls Dave from his crouch
next to me and turns him to face her. “She could be anybody. She
could be harmless, or she could be one of
them
.”

Jack kneels down next to me. He runs his fingers
along the blanket and eyes my pack. “This isn’t stuff scrounged up
from some abandoned house. Military or something. We’d better be
careful.” A vague fear creeps into his eyes.

“See?” Mary says.

Dave touches her arm. “Then we’ll be careful.” He
squats down next to me again and shakes my shoulder. “Hey, wake
up.”

I finally flutter my eyes open, brushing out the rain
that persistently falls on my face.

“Can you get up?”

My neck has a nasty crink and my back is stiff, but
I’m alright. I fight the stiffness and stand, folding my blanket
that somehow gave me away.

Dave crosses his arms and looks at me. Mary approves
of the stance and adopts it herself, but she misses the compassion
that gleams in his eyes.

“So who are you?”

My toes squirm in the heavy boots. The moment I’ve
dreaded—a question requiring more than a nod or shake of the head.
I can’t just shrug my shoulders. I know who I am, and I can’t lie
to them about everything. I debate for another agonizing minute,
when Mary steps forward and prods my shoulder with the barrel of a
rifle.

“Come on, answer the question.”

I see the suspicion like needles in her eyes. I hate
her completely at that moment, and so I open my mutilated mouth
wide for her, hoping it will disgust her into silence.

She whips a hand over her mouth. Jack whistles in a
quick gasp. Only Dave stands unmoved, but I can’t read anything on
his face. I want to ask him if I can at least come in and eat
something and warm up. But I don’t look at him again. His face is
too carefully guarded, and I can’t tell if he’s repulsed or
concerned, and not knowing is too dangerous.

“You military?” he says. “And don’t dare lie.”

I shake my head.

“From a gang?”

I shake my head. At this rate he’ll never guess who I
am.

Finally he shakes the rain off the brim of his cap
and walks to me with his right hand extended.

“I’m Dave.”

His hand is warm and rough and he seems like the only
stable fixture on the earth at this moment. I grab his hand with my
other one as well. Mary makes a move forward, but Jack puts an arm
out. She wrenches away.

I open Dave’s hand and spell my name on his palm with
my finger.

“Terra?” A smile breaks through the shield over his
face. The smile warms me. I nod.

“Come on in. We can talk more about this inside.”

Mary glares but doesn’t try to stop me.

I look around for my pack and then notice it on
Jack’s shoulders.

“Oh, your pack?” Dave says. I nod. “Jack’ll take it
for you. Don’t worry.”

But I do worry. Printing off the message from Jessa
was the stupidest thing I could have done. Even if the supplies
don’t give me away, the note certainly will. I need to get it back,
but from my position now, I’m helpless.

I hobble along beside Dave. My legs are still half
asleep from spending all night on the ground. Inside the school is
a small lobby with restrooms off to one side.

“Do you need to use the bathroom?” Dave says.

I didn’t notice outside. But now that my heart isn’t
racing, my bladder catches up with me. I nod emphatically. Jack
laughs and points to the door marked with the silhouette of a
girl.

The facilities are crude, but the toilet flushes and
water runs into the sink. I didn’t think about things like running
water when I made my way through the Pacific Ocean. Is this a
luxury?

When I come back out, Jack and Mary are both gone. I
cock an eyebrow at Dave to ask the question. He smiles.

“They went into the cafeteria to breakfast.”

I shake my head. Wrong question. Don’t get
frustrated, I remind myself. This will take some practice for both
of us.

“What then?”

I try to make the sound of rushing water. It sounds
more like a cat hocking up a fur ball. I growl. Then I make the
motion of washing my hands.

“The running water?”

I nod, happy to not have to resort to making more
savage noises again.

“That’s one of the first things we got working when
we decided on the school for the settlement. It took some time, but
it really wasn’t that hard. Turns out everyone was pretty willing
to put some elbow grease in when faced with the thought of digging
a latrine out back.” He chuckles at the memory, and I love the
sound. I smile with him, careful to keep my teeth closed. He
scratches his cheek.

“You really look familiar to me. Have you been up to
Washington before?”

Before I can even think through an answer, I shake my
head. I can’t lie to him. His eyes are too earnest.

“Yeah, you’re probably from down south, judging from
the way your skin is peeling.” He touches my cheek with a rough
fingertip and I shiver. I hope he doesn’t notice.

“Still cold?” Worry laces his voice. Understandably.
With the sun coming up, everything is warming and drying off. I
can’t hide anything from him.

I shake my head and put a hand to my stomach.

“Hungry?”

I nod.

“That’s my girl,” he says, indicating the doors to
the cafeteria. How easy it is to fall in step alongside him. He’s
about a foot taller than I am, and I feel comfortable walking next
to him, like his shadow would. I’m safe there, even from Mary’s
frosty stare as we walk into the cafeteria.

Dave steers me to the food carts, and an older man
with shining, red cheeks ladles me up some gloopy oatmeal.

“Strawberries, too?” he says.

I pause. I have a choice? I founder for a moment,
lost in the limbo of indecision. I’ve always had my food
prescribed. I always had to eat every bit—it was optimized of
course, down to the last teaspoon. But now, I have a choice. I
won’t be able to taste the strawberries, but they look
delicious.

I nod.

He scoops a generous portion of sliced strawberries
on top of my cereal. Then he winks.

“And we even have a little honey this morning, so
they’re sweetened, too.”

The first time I’ll be able to try something
unnecessarily sweetened, and I won’t be able to taste much of
anything. But this is my sacrifice. This is what I gave up to be on
the Burn. I harden myself just a bit. I’ve hardened just about
every part of me to deal with the colonies. I can handle not
tasting food. Small sacrifices, I tell myself. I take the tray he
offers me.

As we walk to a table, I notice the radio. Two people
listen, but all I hear is static. One flips through a notebook
while they eat breakfast. Jack waves us to the table where he and
Mary sit. Mary shoots me daggers the whole time, but pats the bench
next to her for Dave. Dave smiles, then side-steps and leads me to
where Red eats with his silver-haired companion.

“Red, Nell, this is Terra.”

I bob my head to them. Nell’s mouth widens into an
irresistible smile full of white, crooked teeth. I smile wide back,
opening my teeth in spite of myself. But Nell doesn’t flinch. She
extends a soft, wrinkled hand. I shake it gently, almost an apology
for showing my mouth to her.

“Not to worry, dear. You’ll find all of us have our
own scars here. Not everyone’s is as obvious, but we’re all just a
bit broken. Comes with the territory.”

I spoon some oatmeal and strawberries and put them in
my mouth. I faintly taste a trace of the sweet. It isn’t much, but
it’s enough. Dave smiles as I down three more bites. After the
energy bars in the sub, this food, tasteless or not, is
heavenly.

Red looks like he wants to ask more about my mouth,
but Nell lays a hand on his arm. Red puts an arm around her
shoulders and squeezes her. She smiles.

I peer out the window behind them. A realization
strikes me in the chest. Through the window, I see the sky blue and
hazy in the morning sunlight. Trees sway. I can see out the window
and really
see
. No black ocean, no heavy weight. I walked
through the rain last night and slept in it. I woke up to rain on
my face this morning. And here I am looking through the window at a
world illuminated by sunlight.

“What’s wrong?” Dave says.

“Hmm?”

“You’re crying.”

I realize my face is wet. I sit here with two people
who have spent their lives together on the Burn and are so
completely in love, I can feel the emotion radiating off them. In
the colonies we are led to believe that such a thing is
impossible—the Burn is filled with killers and destroyers and such
things as love and hope are shadows.

I shrug. I don’t have the ability to tell him how
happy I am at this moment.

After breakfast, Dave takes me on a tour of the
settlement. Mary and Jack offer to accompany us, but Dave gives
Jack a meaningful look and he quickly ushers Mary away. I raise an
eyebrow.