Mindy McGinnis - In a Handful of Dust

“I would anyway,” Lucy said. “We owe them.”

“That’s right, we both do. But you’re the only one who can repay the debt. You’re the one they need, the one they’re going to listen to. You understand?”

“Yeah, I get it,” Lucy said, her voice lacking the conviction of her words. “I’m the one in charge now.”

Nora insisted Lynn remain in bed, a rule Lynn disobeyed until Bailey tried to enforce it. The resulting match of wills ended with a broken wheelchair and the remnants of Lynn’s uneaten overripe tomato running down Bailey’s face. After that Lucy tried to be in the room whenever Bailey was around, but Lynn’s increasing unhappiness and the alluring call of freedom under the bright sky kept her away more than she had intended.

Ben was not ideal company, but his short shadow dogged her footsteps no matter where she went in the city. She soaked up the incessant stream of information he supplied, and regurgitated it for Lynn at night in the darkness of their shared room. She learned much and met new people, always cataloging their names, descriptions, and duties within the city to report back to Lynn in the evening. Lynn listened carefully, but Lucy’s mind was whirring away, analyzing the oasis of a city.

The long, deep pools full of sand fascinated Lucy, and she spent time lounging by their sculpted tops, watching the hot breeze make new patterns and imagining what the world had been like when crystalline waters lapped the concrete banks. But she was not asked to find freshwater, or prove her abilities again. Ben brought four bottles full of water, her allotment for the day. People in physically demanding jobs received six, as did the ill.

“Ugh.” Lynn grimaced, holding the bottle up to the light. “Doesn’t taste right.”

“Ben says that’s on account of the chlorine,” Lucy said, sipping her own water. “He says it breaks down after a while, but there’s an aftertaste.”

“That’s one word for it,” Lynn said, twisting the cap back onto her bottle.

“You drink that,” Lucy said. “Nora says you need to stay hydrated.”

“I’ve drank so much already I feel like I’m pregnant with a water baby.”

Lucy crossed her arms and mockingly raised one eyebrow. “Do I need to get Bailey in here?”

Lynn made a nasty noise in her throat but drank what was left in her bottle and handed it off to Lucy. “Happy?”

Their fingers brushed as she took the empty from Lynn, and Lucy thought hard before answering. “Yeah… actually. I am. This place, it feels good,” Lucy said. Even though Ben’s constant presence grated on her nerves, there was food and water. People had time in their days beyond their duties, playing pool in the rotted-out lobbies of the crumbling hotels in the fading daylight. “It might not be California, but if it’s got what I wanted… why not stay?”

Lynn settled back into her bed, eyes closed against the glare of the setting sun and the weight of Lucy’s words. “Let me meet this Lander fella before I even consider anything, okay? The only people that cross my path over the course of the day are Bailey and Ben, and it doesn’t seem fair to judge the whole city by those two.”

“And Nora,” Lucy reminded her, trying not to sound too hopeful. “Nora’s great.”

“And Nora,” Lynn admitted. She played with the edge of her blanket, focused on the simple task of folding it into a fan, the ridges poking through her fingers. “Let me meet Lander,” she repeated, “and have a little conversation about my gun. We’ll see how that goes.”

“Yeah, we’ll see,” Lucy agreed. For the first night since their arrival in Vegas, she did not sleep well.

The heat was oppressive the next day, the air creeping into every cranny of her skin and opening her pores to bring out each drop of hard-fought-for water she’d drunk in the morning. Lucy peered back into the dark of the lobby.

“You sure you want to go out today?” Lucy asked.

“It ever cool around here?” Lynn asked, as she shuffled out of the shadows.

“Not that I’ve noticed.”

“It’s time for me to do something,” Lynn said, though Lucy noticed the sheen of sweat that popped up on her forehead. “I can’t sit in that room forever, letting you take all the risks.”

“I’m not so sure there are risks,” Lucy reminded her, as Lynn walked down the strip toward the hotel where Lander and Ben lived and managed the garden. Lynn was out of breath by the time they reached the hotel, and Lucy tried to steer her toward the chair Ben had pulled out of the shadows, still sitting alone in a bright arch of sunlight. Lynn brushed her off, though Lucy could feel her tightly wound muscles shaking even in their brief touch.

“I’m fine,” Lynn said. “Where to?”

Lucy led her to the gardens, hoping for a few minutes in which Lynn could absorb the life around her and restore her spirits. But Lander was there, moving quietly among the crop despite his size. He emerged from the tasseling sweet corn, golden fronds tangling in his stubble as he passed.

“Lynn, hello,” he said, his voice carrying the same reassuring resonance that had lulled Lucy’s fears when they met. “It’s good to meet you, and looking much stronger than I expected.” His eyes moved over her body in a way that made Lucy suspect he wasn’t just appreciating Lynn’s skills of recuperation.

“Uh-huh,” Lynn said, her interest focused on the corn rather than Lander. “So where’s my gun?”

“Your gun is somewhere safe.”

“Safest place for my rifle is in my own hands.”

Lander spread his hands in front of him, still smiling. “And I’m open to that. Your daughter has shared her abilities with us, and I understand your own lie in a more…”

“Violent,” Lynn provided. “You can say it.”

“A more violent path, then,” he finished.

“True enough.”

“So this is your gift to the world?”

Lynn’s eyebrows flew up, and Lucy felt herself bracing for the backlash. “I don’t remember ever getting a gift in the first place, or signing up for any kind of exchange.”

“Did we not give you life?”

“My mother gave me life; saving it was your choice. The only gift I give is death.”

Something flickered across his face, and Lander moved closer to Lynn, graceful as a cat. He towered over her, muscles rippling in his arms as he put a massive palm against Lynn’s throat, slim and pale after her illness. He leaned in to whisper to her, “Even now?”

Lucy breathed quietly in the shadows, tensing herself to spring, should she have to.

Lynn looked up at Lander, the strength of her voice vibrating his fingers where they lay. “Even now, you big son of a bitch.”

He burst out laughing, a sound so overpowering that not even the living air of the garden could soak it up, and it rolled out into the lobby to echo off the dark walls and back to them. “I like you,” he declared, and slapped Lynn on the back, which pushed her forward a foot. “I like you a lot.”

Lynn shot Lucy a look. “Fantastic.”

His hands fastened onto Lynn’s shoulders, and he beamed into her upturned face. “Then let’s see what you can do.”

Lynn’s rifle seemed to have missed her as its bullets sang out over the city, dropping targets at growing distances as Lander pointed out signs, car windows, anything that caught his eye. Nora had insisted on following them to the roof when she learned her patient would be climbing steps. Lander had carried Lynn the last hundred or so, cradled in his arms like a doll, while she likewise cradled the rifle.

It was soon clear exactly how novel gunshots were in Las Vegas. Bailey appeared shortly after the sharp cracks of the bullets, puffing her way to the roof as if she expected an insurrection she would single-handedly end. Her amazement at seeing Lynn with her gun in hand turned to bitterness in seconds flat, and Lucy kept her eye on the big lady, noting how her pinched face contracted even more with every compliment Lander paid to Lynn.