Sarah Zettel - Dust girl

I knew what she meant. I could only catch glimpses of the people moving through the corn in a big curving line, but their anger rolled over me like the noise. With every beat, every footstep, the drovers wanted the rabbits dead. They wanted us dead. That single wish was in the banging pots and the rustle of the corn. Die, die, die . Every inch, they drove us closer to the open pen and their kith and kin, waiting with clubs and guns.

That couldn’t be all there was, I thought desperately. There had to be something else. But I didn’t dare open my magic sense to try to find it. I’d tried in the rail yard and was paralyzed by the anger and fear that I found. If I froze up now, I would die. Those people back there wouldn’t see me. All they’d see was another varmint destroying what little they had left.

A rabbit flashed in front of me, too close. I tripped and plowed face-first into dirt and dead weeds. Dust drove into my eyes and under my nails. I pushed myself up, hacking and coughing like the dust pneumonia had come back.

“Get up!” screamed Shimmy, hauling on my wrist. “Get up!”

I staggered to my feet, trying to blink the dust away as I ran forward. Die, die, die . The wish pummeled me. I coughed, and knuckled the blow dirt out of my eyes, and kept running. Sweat streamed down my face and turned the dust on my cheeks to mud, and all at once my mind clamped tight around a new thought.

There was another wish, a wish that every person in Kansas wanted to come true, even these people driving us to die. They wanted it more than the death of the varmints they’d set out to slaughter, more than revenge against a world gone so wrong for so many years.

They wanted rain. They wished for rain each time they stepped out into their dead fields. They wished for it now, under the banging of the pots and the pans.

“Shimmy!” I shouted. I put on a fresh burst of speed and held out my hand to her. “Help me!”

She grabbed hold of my hand, and I felt her magic rise up. I squeezed my eyes shut and let her drag me along, blind. It didn’t matter if our enemies could find me from the wishing magic. They were already here. Bull Morgan had brought their magic with him to blind the folks behind us. I squeezed Shimmy’s hand, and with all my might, I wished for rain.

I remembered the cool smell of rain filling the wind as I ran to the top of the hogback ridge near the Imperial, and how the black and gray clouds built up into mountains overhead. I remembered the hard smack of the first drop against my skin, and the way the goose bumps spread out from the touch of cold water on a burning-hot day. Then there’d be another drop, and another. Soon there’d be too many to count, pattering on the ground, making a sound like paws.

I’d wished for rain every day since the dust came, just like all the folks behind us did. It was my wish and their wish, all together, as strong and as real as the wish for food among the hobos in the rail yard.

The wind blew hard and suddenly cold. Behind us, the clamor faltered. The light turned dirty-canvas yellow and then smoky gray. I risked a glance up. Clouds churned in the hard blue sky. But these weren’t brown dust clouds. These were thunderheads, great piles of them, filling the sky.

Something cold hit the top of my head. Then my arm, and my cheek, and my brow.

Rain.

Fat, ice-cold raindrops hit the ground and raised puffs of dust. They smacked against the dead cornstalks, making the stems buckle and sway. I could see the people between the drooping cornstalks now. The whole line of folks in dusty clothes, with hats on their heads and dented pots in their calloused hands, stood with their faces turned toward the sky.

“My God!” someone cried. “My God!”

They stared openmouthed at the sky. The individual drops now turned into a solid sheet of water, rippling in the wind, pouring down over the dead earth and the desperate people. The rain fell faster and thicker with every heartbeat. It poured out of the clouds, out of my wishing, and out of me too, until I swayed as much as any of the cornstalks.

“No!” bellowed Morgan. “Get after ’em, you fools!”

But no one was listening to him. The rabbits vanished into the corn, splashing through the new puddles as they made their escape, and no one cared. The people laughed and held their arms out to the sky, mouths open wide to let the rain pour right in. They hooted and hollered and banged on the pots, the ones they weren’t holding up to catch the water. They danced among the cornstalks, swinging each other around and shouting hallelujahs.

With the rain, I felt something else dissolve. The spell on their eyes. My rain washed that magic clean away.

I wasn’t the only one who felt it. Bull Morgan roared. He swelled like he was a bag filling up with the rain, and he teetered toward us, the revolver stretched out in front.

“You’re dead, you darkie brat!” he howled. “Abomination! Gonna kill you dead!”

“Run!” hollered Jack.

I tried, but my legs had turned to rubber and I just sagged. Jack caught my arm and kept me upright. Shimmy grabbed my other arm, and between the two of them they dragged me deeper into the cornfield. Shimmy pushed me forward into Jack’s arms so he could pull me with him while she shoved us both from behind.

There was a shot, and another. How many bullets had that been? How many did Morgan have left? My head spun. My stomach heaved. I was jouncing and jolting, deadweight in Jack’s arms. The clouds I’d called up hid the sun. I had no sense of direction. Jack swung around to the right, like he knew where he was going. Maybe he did. He always had before. Behind us, Morgan shouted and plunged through the corn and the pouring rain.

A hollow opened up in front of us. Jack threw himself flat on his face in the mud and pulled me down beside him. Shimmy dropped to her knees and then to her belly beside us. There was something wrong with her dress. It had a dark stain across the shoulder, something shining and wet that mixed with the rain and the mud. Shimmy put her hand on my back and held me down like she thought I might get up and start dancing. I couldn’t move. Each raindrop that hit me felt like it weighed five pounds. I was being pummeled flat into the ground by my own rain.

“Give it over now, Callie,” Shimmy said. Then she coughed. “Give it to me.”

“I don’t understand.”

“The-the wish.” She coughed again.

Panic was blooming inside Jack. I could feel it like the rain battering my skin. Something was wrong, very wrong. I knotted together the last of my strength and made myself look at Shimmy, and at that dark, spreading stain. It wasn’t just a stain; it was a tear, straight through her shoulder.

She was shot.

“I got it now.” Shimmy’s voice trembled. “You let go.”

“But you’re… you’re bleeding…”

She coughed. “It’s not so bad.”

I made my eyes roll up to look at Jack. He shook his head. Shimmy was lying.

“I can’t let you…”

“Yes, you can!” Shimmy snapped. “You wish you felt better, don’t you, sugar? You wish you could run. Give it to me now.”

Shimmy huddled on the slope of the hollow. I didn’t know what to do. Bull Morgan was thrashing around up there with his gun, looking for us. It was a matter of seconds before he tripped over us in that little hollow, and I didn’t know how many bullets he had left, but I figured it was enough. The rain was punishing me down to my bones. I had no strength for another wish.

“You got to get away,” croaked Shimmy. “Take the car, get to Kansas City. You got to promise me you will.”

“Okay.” I swallowed hard. “I promise.”

Shimmy smiled, and I saw the glimmer of golden light in her brown eyes. “Don’t look like that. You just be sure you tell our king and queen that Shimmy never let you down.” She wrapped her hand around mine. It was as cold as the rain, as cold as death. I felt her reach inside me, felt the spark of mischief and determination, and her wish. I felt Shimmy wish I could give her the rainstorm, and I passed it over to her. Simple as breathing.