Susan Kim - Wanderers

Puzzled, Esther stood by Caleb’s side. The fire was nothing more than damp paper and twigs, which explained all the smoke. As a result, it hadn’t burned very hot and was in fact dying, unassisted, at their feet.

“Who would do this?” asked Esther.

Caleb shook his head, bewildered. Then there was a shout from outdoors.

On the sidewalk, Joseph was so agitated, he could barely get the words out. With Kai in his arms, he pointed at the open window above them and then down the street.

“A boy. Someone. He jumped down and ran!”

Understanding dawned on Caleb’s face.

“He must’ve been hiding in the stairs,” he said. “When he set the fire, he figured we’d go out the window. That gave him time to go upstairs.”

“To do what?” Esther asked.

“Steal.”

Esther was uncomprehending. It made no sense that someone would go to so much trouble.

Caleb shrugged. “All he got was flour. And it’s mostly rotted. There’s nothing to do but go back to bed.”

Indignation flared in Esther’s breast. “But it’s wrong.”

Caleb placed a hand on her shoulder. “Let it go.”

But she would have none of it. Then another thought struck her. “The extra quail we saved. The one Skar gave us.” After all the time she and her friend had put in that day, the thought of anyone stealing their supplies, as meager as they were, made her doubly furious. She turned to Joseph.

“Watch the baby,” she said. “Please.”

And with that, Esther took off in the direction her friend had indicated, still barefoot and wearing only her oversize T-shirt. Unable to stop her, Caleb had no choice but to follow.

Esther sprinted down what remained of the central street of Prin, Caleb close behind. Clouds darkened the sky and made it hard to see; still, they barreled past the devastated storefronts that served as makeshift homes for the rest of the town.

Esther stopped and, after a moment, Caleb caught up with her. He had never fully recovered from the old arrow wound in his chest; and now he had trouble breathing.

Then they both heard it.

It came from the side of the street, in the shadowy wreckage of DEL’S FROZEN YOGURT: a faint rustling and the unmistakable sound of breathing, quick and shallow. Esther turned and cocked her head, as if locating its source through hearing alone. Then, without a word, she sprang into the darkness, a vengeful hawk after a mouse. There was a cry, and a moment later, she dragged a struggling figure onto the street.

The bag of flour dropped from the thief’s hands and broke open, its contents spilling in a faint cloud of white by their feet.

The crook glanced up, helpless, as the clouds shifted and the moon shone down. It was a boy, perhaps eight years old. He was emaciated, and the features of his face, already sharp, were made even more distinct by the shifting shadows.

His expression was a mixture of defiance and terror. Then despair seemed to overtake him; his eyes briefly closed and reopened. When he spoke, his voice was fatalistic, as if coming from one much older and wearier.

“My shoes,” he said. “They ain’t no good.”

Esther and Caleb glanced down at his filthy feet. They saw the remains of what had once been sport sandals, the reason he was unable to run any farther.

They knew who he was, of course. Silas lived in the remains of the library, near the end of Main Street, with several others his age. They were scavengers, living off garbage and whatever else they could scrounge. Now he and his colleagues had apparently turned to thievery as well.

Still gripping him by his collar, Esther shook him once, hard. “You got anything to say?”

“Not much.”

“No?”

He shrugged. “Everybody got to eat.”

“Where’s the bird you took?”

The boy just shrugged again. “Musta dropped it.”

He was too tired to care, and too young to be up so late in the first place. But his reaction infuriated Esther. As she raised her hand, the boy wrapped his arms around himself, bracing for her attack. Then Caleb grabbed her from behind.

“Okay,” he said, as she bucked in his arms. “That’s enough!”

Esther stopped struggling. She stayed still, panting, her head against Caleb’s chest.

“Go on,” Caleb said to the boy. “Get going.”

Silas glanced up, surprised. Then he turned and, within moments, melted into the darkness.

“You should have let me at him,” Esther said after a pause. Her voice was hoarse.

Caleb shook his head. “We’re done with fighting. I am, anyway.”

Unexpectedly, he let her go, and she almost stumbled. Then he picked up what remained of the flour and started for home, without waiting for her.

Esther stood alone, breathing hard.

Caleb’s words stung. Only recently, he had spent months immersed in violence and revenge, hunting down the variants he believed had murdered his partner and stolen his son. If he was able to renounce all of that, what was wrong with her?

Esther wasn’t proud of the fact she had always been impulsive and hotheaded. True, some of it had burned off when she learned how to love first Caleb, and then Kai. But the terrible times they were living in brought out the worst in everyone.

Moments earlier, she had nearly beaten a starving child. Two months ago, it was an act Esther would have not only despised but been incapable of. That Caleb had kept her from doing so made her both proud of him and ashamed of herself.

As Caleb reached their building, a penitent Esther ran to catch up with him. Then they walked up the stairs together, in silence.

Joseph was sitting in their bedroom, next to the cradle Caleb had fashioned for Kai from an old shopping cart. The baby had gone back to sleep, and Joseph, too, was fighting to stay awake.

“Thanks,” Esther said. Joseph gave an awkward wave and then trudged to the living room, a cat at his heels.

Caleb and Esther got into bed, still not speaking. Then she touched his arm. “I—” she began, then stopped.

He glanced at her. It was clear the mood had been broken; there was no recapturing their interrupted intimacy. But that was not what she wanted.

“There’s no staying here no more,” she said in a rush. “We got to leave.”

For a moment, Caleb didn’t understand. “Leave?” he repeated. “What do you mean?”

“Prin.”

He didn’t respond, but neither did he pull away when she draped her arm across his chest. After a few minutes, he rested his hand on hers.

They remained like that, silent and awake, until the sun rose.

THE NEXT DAY, CALEB LOOKED OUT UPON A SEA OF FACES. THE NOISE was deafening.

The people of Prin were in the town meeting place, the glass and brick building at the end of the main street with the mysterious yellow arches outside. This was where impassioned yet orderly gatherings used to take place, where public business was done. But soon after the destruction of the Source, the assemblages had begun to fall apart. As the famine had grown more severe, they had soon degenerated into complete chaos. Meanwhile, the boy Rafe, who had once enjoyed the privileges of being town leader, had quietly relinquished the position, leaving the town without any direction at all.

Today, Rafe sat with the others at one of the many plastic tables molded to the floor. He watched Esther and Caleb with open curiosity, as if to say, let’s see how well you can do.

Neither Caleb nor Esther had ever called a meeting before and were unaccustomed to addressing so many at once. The townspeople were nearly anonymous in their sunglasses and hooded robes made of sheets and towels belted at the waist, worn as protection against the deadly sun. Amid the pastels, stripes, and floral patterns, Esther’s red hoodie and Caleb’s black sweatshirt stuck out. Bouncing Kai on her hip, she met his eyes and gave a brief nod.