Mindy McGinnis - In a Handful of Dust

“I didn’t know that, and neither did he. You’re the one that holds on to hope, Lucy. The two of us, we’d already accepted that life is unfair. And he died for it, and I can’t put together enough words to tell you how sorry I am.”

“Neither one of you can be blamed for it,” Lucy said eventually. “This is a hard place we live in.”

“It is indeed,” Lynn answered. The storm finally broke around them, dropping water in great sheets that rolled off the windshield as they headed west.

“But I’m still glad I’m here,” Lucy managed to say as her eyelids closed.

The last thing she heard before she drifted into unconsciousness was Lynn heaving a great sigh and saying, “Lord, I wish I had a five-gallon bucket about now.”

Lucy resisted when Lynn tried to get her to drink in the morning.

“That’s water from the city,” Lucy said. “I don’t want to drink it.”

Lynn took a swig from her own bottle and swished the water around her mouth. “Knowing what’s in it doesn’t make it taste better, but it’s water all the same.” She handed Lucy the bottle and opened her car door. “Hope you’re not too spoiled by the driving. We’re outta gas.”

“I’ll survive.” Lucy got out, enjoying the feel of the rain-washed air against her skin in the cool morning light. Her lips were dry, and she’d taken a swallow of the water before she had time to think about it.

“How far ’til Sand City?” Lucy asked, looking to the horizon.

“A few hours’ walk is my best guess,” Lynn said.

Lucy leaned against the car. “What do we do when we get there?”

“That’s a good question, and hell if I know,” Lynn said. “I never came up with an answer, as I was never entirely sure we’d make it.”

“California,” Lucy said as she looked to the west. “Kinda seemed impossible, didn’t it?”

Lynn shrugged. “You don’t have to look in that direction, you know. We’re in California right now.”

Lucy turned to the north. “California. Kinda seemed impossible, didn’t it?”

Lynn snorted and threw a handful of sand at her.

They hit a field of wind turbines hours later, the turning white arms bright beneath the sun.

“What’re those?” Lucy asked.

“Kinda like a windmill,” Lynn said. “There was a farm back home had one. Stebbs took me out to see it once. They make electricity, though the one in Ohio was all broken down. It didn’t work anymore.”

“These look like they’re working.”

“Which means we’re close.”

“Electricity…,” Lucy said, remembering Vera’s stories of light after the sun had gone down. “Fletcher said it was here, but I couldn’t hardly believe they were that well off.”

“Could be it’s only used for the desal plants, you know. Something’s gotta run them. I doubt they waste energy on things like lightbulbs. Don’t get your hopes up.”

“I won’t,” Lucy promised, but she couldn’t squash the flutter of excitement in her belly.

They walked through the afternoon, their spirits dropping as unpopulated buildings rose around them. Despite her promise, Lynn clicked the safety off on the rifle, and Lucy didn’t mention it. Their footfalls echoed one another as they walked alone, past a residential district with rusted-out cars sitting quietly in the driveways.

A new scent had found Lucy’s nose, tickling her nostrils and bringing her senses to a high pitch. “You smell that?”

“I think it’s the ocean.”

“The ocean,” Lucy said, taking a deep breath of the salty tang. “Yeah, I imagine it is.”

They moved on, the buildings growing closer together as they went. Lynn became antsy and they went off the highway, picking their way through parking lots with grass growing through ever-widening cracks in the pavement, until they hit the ocean. It rose to meet Lucy, the tide nibbling at her toes as she pulled off her shoes to feel it properly for the first time in her life. The vast blue expanse met the sky, the sun making a new red road on its undulating surface, one that led to the horizon.

“Lucy,” Lynn said quietly. “I’m sorry, little one. There’s no one here.”

Lucy didn’t turn. “So far, no, but I don’t think Fletcher would’ve led us wrong.”

“Me neither, but maybe something happened to them, maybe…”

“We can talk maybes all day long and still not know a thing,” Lucy said, toes curling in the wet sand. “I’m heading north. If we get to Oregon, we know something’s wrong.”

“All right then,” Lynn said, adjusting her pack. “Let’s go.”

“Not yet,” Lucy said as the tide swelled over her feet again. “Not just yet.”

Lucy walked on, and Lynn followed. They’d been walking along the beach for miles when Lynn’s fingers dug into Lucy’s arm, nodding up ahead. Lucy pulled her gaze from the ocean to see the figure of a man on the beach. He spotted them seconds later and waved an arm in greeting.

“Well,” Lynn said under her breath. “I guess that’s how this is done.”

They walked toward him, cautiously leaning toward each other, their elbows rubbing with every step. Lynn kept her rifle on her back, and Lucy saw the man’s expression change when they were near enough for him to see the barrel rising above her shoulder.

“Hi there,” he said as they approached, the sparse gray hair on the crown of his head blowing in the evening breeze. “I thought you were Bridget and Taylor heading home from fishing.”

Lucy stood before him, her mouth feeling as if it were sewn shut. Behind her, she heard Lynn sink into the sand, her body giving out on her. The man looked between the two of them. “Well, who are you then?”

Lucy’s lips moved, her throat constricted, but no sounds came out. Witching was insignificant next to the ocean, her precious skill useless in this new world. She had nothing to offer in exchange for a life less normal. In the end, she said, “My name is Lucy, and I walked across the country to get here.”

“Well done, Lucy,” the man said, extending his hand. “I’m Dan.”

She shook it. “This is Lynn.” She nodded toward the ground, as if Lynn being there were completely normal.

“Hi, Lynn,” Dan said, nodding when she didn’t reach for his hand. “That’s a hell of a gun you’ve got there.”

“Uh-huh,” Lynn said.

“We’re supposed to tell you Fletcher sent us,” Lucy said. “I don’t know if that makes a difference or—”

“Fletcher?” Dan smacked his hands together. “How is the old bastard?”

“He’s alive,” Lucy said. “We met him in Nebraska. He said if we—”

Dan’s hands rested lightly on her shoulders, stopping her flow of words. “You prove your worth by your actions, Lucy. You can relax now. You’re here.” He put his other hand on Lynn’s shoulder. “You made it, girls.”

The water pulled at Lucy’s toes, dragging the sand out from under her feet and making her sink inch by inch into the wet, comforting muck. Weeks after their arrival she still couldn’t resist the sea, reveling in it every evening outside the small house she and Lynn had claimed for their own on the edge of town.

Even though there were hundreds of people here, no one was thirsty. The windmills powered the plant, which made the ocean water flowing into their homes drinkable. Solar panels meant electricity. On their first night in their new house, Lucy had found Lynn in the living room with a book in her hand and tears on her cheeks. “I can see,” she’d said in explanation. “First time in my life I’ve ever been able to see after the sun went down. This is how Mother lived once.”