Susan Kim - Wasteland

Esther blinked. “So that’s what Levi meant? There really is clean water? And it’s here? And you knew all along?”

Joseph glanced up at Esther, taking note of new details. He was impressed by her new gravity, her mature attitude, not to mention the band around her wrist and the baby. This kept him from responding right away.

“Are you even listening?” she asked. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

The one answer Joseph could give seemed likely to inspire more criticism. So he just shrugged.

“You always offered me a cup of it when I visited,” she said. “I guess that was your way of saying.”

Esther shook her head, marveling at Joseph’s cluelessness, though with obvious affection.

“Here’s what I think,” he offered. “There’s water deep underground. And it pushed up through layers of rock and sand somehow. I think that’s what cleaned it. That’s all I know.”

In Esther’s face, he saw a new, more surprising emotion. He’d never seen it in the eyes of another person. It was respect.

“So what’s all that ?” she said, stepping inside.

She gestured at the calendars that lay scattered around the apartment. Before, at best, she had indulged him about them.

Joseph was rather proud of the simplicity of one particular creation, a circular wooden board. Now, he explained that so many hours formed a day, then a week, then a month, and so on. But instead of needing to create new lines, his calendar circled back on itself every seven days. Months and years were indicated by advances in either green or blue pegs.

Esther listened, nodding here and there, asking the occasional question. She didn’t whistle with impatience or smile politely, as she used to do. She pointed to the single red peg set in the center of the board.

“And what’s that ?” she asked.

“The day I was born.”

Esther gasped at this, which perplexed Joseph. Everyone in Prin had some idea of when and where they were born, if only in crude approximations counted on fingers or scrawled on walls. It was the relative surety of his calculations, as well as the elegance of his presentation, that impressed Esther, he assumed.

“I’m—” he started to give my age.

“Don’t tell me,” she said. “ I’ll figure it out.”

She used his calendar, competently, her fingers moving, her eyes darting. Joseph watched, feeling a new emotion himself: pride that he could only describe as paternal.

Esther gasped again, recoiling from the calendar. Then she turned and stared at him.

“Twenty-six,” she said. “You’re twenty-six years old!”

Joseph squirmed a bit, embarrassed. To hear it said like that made him feel so old. But then, he supposed he was.

Levi walked with painful slowness back to his office, followed by Caleb. The two were now the only ones left in the Source.

The older brother seemed dazed, unsteady on his feet. But that was all the weakness he was willing to reveal. Even beaten and powerless, Levi still held his ground, now worth nothing.

When Caleb thought about what his brother had done, of all of the pain and misery he had caused, hatred instinctively surged in his breast. He deserved no mercy; why should he, when he had never shown any to anyone else? The world would be a better place if he were to throttle Levi now, to squeeze the slender white throat until he extinguished his life forever.

And yet, he hesitated.

Levi had accomplished everything on his own, using only willpower and intelligence. What might he have achieved had he not been so tortured a soul? How would their lives have been different if their parents had kept him instead of casting him out? It was such a waste, thought Caleb, with a sense of profound sadness.

Despite his anger, Caleb could not deny the blood that still linked them.

“So,” Levi said, his back still to his brother. “I see you’ve saved me for yourself.” With his hand balanced on the edge of his desk, he seemed calm, as if resigned to his fate.

“What?”

Levi turned. “You could have let those animals kill me,” he said. “And yet you didn’t. I don’t blame you… I’d do the same thing. Though of course, I’d enjoy it. I suppose you’re going to have misgivings.”

From the taunting way he spoke, Caleb realized that even now, Levi was jockeying for position, trying to anger him in order to throw him off balance. Yet Caleb wouldn’t take the bait. Now that he had Esther and Kai, Caleb no longer felt any bloodlust. The urge for revenge had been purged from him. What would one more casualty achieve? All along, Caleb had only been trying to right his world after it had been wrenched askew.

Rage and revenge would not be his constant, lifelong companions. He would make certain of that.

“Not everyone’s the same,” he said.

“That’s what you think,” replied his brother.

But Caleb refused to be drawn into an argument. “I can’t deny I never want to see you again,” he said. “But I’m not going to kill you.”

This surprised Levi, who raised one eyebrow. From his expression, however, it was clear he was not so much relieved as amused and more than a little contemptuous.

“So what do you propose instead?” he mocked. “That I promise to reform? To do good works for the people of Prin?”

Again, Caleb refused to be drawn into a fight. “I don’t care what you do,” he said, “as long as you leave and don’t come back. Ever. Take whatever you need or can carry. Though I’d advise you not to look back.”

Levi was toying with one of the silver rings on his fingers. Then he shook his head.

“Thank you for your generous offer,” he said. “But I’m not going anywhere. You see, there’d be no point. Because I’m as good as dead, anyway. Courtesy of my beloved.”

Caleb gave him a sharp look and the older boy smiled. “Michal slipped rainwater into my wine,” he continued. “Who would have thought she was capable of thinking that one up, much less carrying it off?”

“You mean you’re—” Caleb started, but his brother cut him off.

“Dying,” he said. He was incapable of hiding the self-pity in his voice. “That’s another way you’ve gotten the better deal, you see. Girls fall in love with you. They poison me.”

Then, suddenly, unbelievably, Levi’s face crumpled. He started to cry.

He held open his arms and, for a moment, Caleb didn’t understand. Then Levi took him by the shoulders. As Caleb, confused, moved into his brother’s arms, Levi pulled him close.

To his shock, Caleb realized that Levi, too, yearned for connection, the kind you have with blood, with family. Caleb returned the embrace, astonished by the warmth he felt.

All at once, there was the rumble of machinery. Caleb tried to turn but Levi’s arms had turned into a vice. By the time he wrenched himself free, the doors had shut, sealing the two inside.

Levi was behind his desk, pulling something out from beneath it. He now hoisted it up, balancing it on the arm of his chair.

It was a large metal can of Able Accelerant.

He shrugged, as if to apologize for the obviousness of his choice. Caleb lunged across the wooden surface in vain. Levi managed to keep the desk between them as he ripped off the plastic cap. Then he began splashing the can’s contents in every direction, across his desk and among his papers, filling the air with its dizzying fumes. Even as his brother was on him, trying to wrestle it away, Levi managed to hold on to it, upending it onto any surface he could find, dousing both of them with fuel.

Caleb lost his footing on the slippery floor, and his brother fell from his grasp. Levi stood across from him, panting a little, his eyes glittering. He had fished something from his pocket, which he held aloft. It was a plastic firestarter.