Mindy McGinnis - In a Handful of Dust

“That’s good, little one, good for everyone.”

She’d begun to slide back into sleep before Nora’s words trailed off, but she jerked herself awake. “Why’d you call me that?”

Nora’s hands were gone, her voice suddenly distant in the dark. “Call you what?”

“Little one.”

There was a pause, and Lucy strained her eyes against the black to see if Nora was still there. “I had a child that was built small, like you. Now get some sleep.”

Footsteps retreated, and Lucy heard a door shut behind them. Moments later Lynn’s voice cut through the black.

“You told them?”

The words hung between their beds like a weight, and Lucy fought hard to sound confident when she spoke. “There wasn’t any choice. I’m sorry.”

“Who all knows?”

“I don’t know. The men who found me, Nora apparently.”

“So let’s assume everyone,” Lynn said, and the quiet descended again. “How many people are here?”

“I don’t know, Lynn,” Lucy said. “I’ve been awake about five more hours than you.”

“And what’d you learn in those five hours?”

“That we’re lucky we’re not dead, you especially. Nora and the bigger lady have some kind of medical training. We’re in a real hospital, but apparently they don’t have electricity.”

Lynn was silent again, but Lucy could feel her thinking in the dark, and her own mind ran over the thousand things she should’ve noticed while Lynn lay comatose.

“Those men that found you… did they hurt you in any way?”

“I’m fine, Lynn,” Lucy said.

“You understand what I’m ask—”

“I’m. Fine. You don’t need to assume that—”

“Everyone we meet is bad?”

“Yeah,” Lucy answered. “There are good people in the world, like Grandma. Like Stebbs and Fletcher.”

“There are,” Lynn said carefully, “but we’ll start with the assumption most people aren’t, and let them earn their way up.”

Nora’s warm touch and concerned tone flickered through Lucy’s mind. “Nora seems all right,” she said tentatively.

Lynn grunted in reply.

“What do we do?” Lucy asked, even though her foot ached horribly and sleep was toying with her brain again.

“I don’t know that there’s a lot of we involved. I’m draining myself just talking.”

“You’ve never exactly been chatty,” Lucy said. “So I think you’ll be fine.”

Lucy heard something sailing toward her through the dark, and a pillow hit her in the face.

“Nice shot.”

“I have my gifts,” Lynn said, and Lucy would’ve mistaken it for a joke if not for what came next. “Though they don’t seem wanted here.”

“What do you mean?”

“Where’s my gun?”

“It’s—” Lucy’s tongue was quick to supply an instant answer to the all-important question, but she couldn’t. “I don’t know.”

“The men who picked us up, did they take it?”

Lucy racked her brain, forcing the fevered car ride from the desert into high detail, but all she saw was Lynn’s limp body, her head lolling endlessly. “I don’t remember.”

“Nobody in this world leaves a high-powered rifle lying beside the road,” Lynn said. “They took it.”

A chill crept beneath Lucy’s skin that had nothing to do with the IV. She curled into herself under the thin sheet and tucked the edges under the sharp contours of her body.

“So what happens next?”

“We’re in your territory now, little one, and me without my gun. You tell me.”

Lucy lay in the dark, her mind at odds with her heart once again. Lynn’s innate distrust of people might be leading her into paranoia. These people had saved their lives, filled their bodies with water again. She was in a bed for the first time in months, her head resting on a pillow.

“I’ll keep my eyes open,” she finally said. “People like to talk about themselves, especially if they’ve accomplished something. And they have, Lynn. We’re in a city in the middle of a desert, and they’re giving out water to strangers.”

“Don’t be afraid to show them how smart you are,” Lynn said, her voice fading further into weakness. “You’ve got a sharp mind; that’s of value anywhere. Watch and learn.”

“And then?”

“And then I get my gun back.”

The other nurse was there in the morning, and Lucy resisted the urge to ask where Nora was. The bigger woman did everything brusquely, as if Lucy were a life-size doll whose plasticized limbs could bend in any direction while being dressed.

“Ouch,” she said as her head was forced through a T-shirt much too small for her.

“You’re fine,” the woman said dismissively, though Lucy pulled the ribbed collar away from her neck and looked with dismay at the outlines of her ribs showing through the fabric.

“Um… I think this might be for a little kid,” she said.

“Mmmm” was all the nurse offered in reply.

“What’s your name?”

“Bailey.”

“Hi, Bailey, I’m Lucy,” she said as politely as she could manage.

“Uh-huh.” Bailey finished folding the gown she’d taken off Lucy and moved over to Lynn’s bed. “Your mom wake up yet?”

“I’m awake,” came Lynn’s voice, though her eyes stayed closed. “And if you try to take my clothes off, we’ll have issues straightaway.”

Bailey stood at the foot of Lynn’s bed with her arms crossed over her chest, but Lucy noticed she made no move to touch Lynn. Even with her eyes closed and her voice pitched low, Lynn looked and sounded dangerous.

“You going to be the one to give me trouble then?”

“You an important person around here, Bailey?” Lucy suddenly asked, switching the big woman’s attention back to her.

“’Scuse me?”

“I asked if you were an important person around here. I’m guessing you’re not, since you’re cleaning up the piss of wandering strangers. So Lynn will give as she’s getting, and there will be no kind words for anybody until you bring me someone who matters to talk to.”

Bailey glanced at Lynn, then flushed three shades of red as she backed out the room, arm muscles twitching.

“Well, that was a nice bit of sass. I’ve heard that tone on more than one occasion as I caught you sliding out the window in the middle of the night.”

Lucy stuck her tongue out at Lynn, but her reservations outlasted her sarcasm. “I don’t know how well I can keep it up.”

“It was a solid start, anyway,” Lynn said, tipping her a wink before they heard Bailey’s heavy footsteps in the hallway. Lucy glanced up to see a boy standing in the doorway, his anxious face torn between amusement and interest as he glanced at her.

“Uh, hi,” Lucy said, highly aware of the fact that the shirt she was wearing clung to her in more places than her ribs.

“You’re requesting to speak to someone important?”

“And that’s you?”

He visibly tried to make himself taller. “Kind of. My dad is… important.”

“So where’s he?”

“Out. He told me to come and see if you can really do the witching.”

“I can,” Lucy said. “Didn’t know I had to prove it.”

“What’s your name?” Lynn asked.

“Ben,” he answered, without taking his eyes from Lucy.

“Well, Ben, bring my daughter a willow switch and she’ll show you.”

“Willows aren’t easy to come by,” Ben said, his eyes still roaming over Lucy in curiosity.

“Doesn’t have to be a willow,” Lucy said, feeling the challenge in his gaze. “Just bring me something wooden, three blankets, and a bottle of water.”

Ben left, and Lynn’s sigh filled the room. “I don’t think you’re going to put much over him. Nasty little weasel, that one.”