August Ansel - The Attic

Together they eased Renna into a semi-sitting position, propping her against a nearby support and tucking blankets behind her. She moaned some through gritted teeth when they first lifted her forward, and by the time she sat upright there was a thin sheen of sweat on her pale forehead and upper lip. Arie handed her the bowl. Despite shaking hands, Renna got the first spoonful to her lips and began to eat in earnest, clutching the spoon in her fist like a young child.

“Go easy,” Arie said. “You’ve only had liquids the past couple of days.”

“It’s good,” Renna said, a little breathless.

“A lot of people had backyard apple trees in these older neighborhoods,” Arie said. “There are three still bearing fruit right around here, though I don’t know how long that will last.” She held up her own apple and turned it speculatively. “Food apples were a purely human notion from the start. So they’re dying out, like us.”

“We still have the orchard on God’s Land,” Handy said. “Twelve trees.”

Renna, licking the last bit of food from the bowl, stopped and looked at him. “What’s that?”

“Home,” he said. Now he looked at her directly, and everything Arie suspected about his feelings were in plain evidence on his face. “Mine and Ariela’s. Yours too, maybe.”

Arie plucked the dish and spoon from Renna and gave her own apple core to Handy. “You know what to do with these,” she said. She wiped her fingers on her apron. “My home is here. Handy’s home is quite a trip from here,” she said, “and if you’re to travel with him, we’ll have to get you on your feet again. Let’s practice a little.” She motioned to Handy. “Take the bad side.”

“But I can’t,” Renna said. “I’m hurt.”

“You’re rather remarkably healed, actually,” Arie said. She had an arm snugged behind Renna’s shoulder blades, and the girl’s right elbow clasped with her other hand. “All of the bites, except for that worst one, have closed up dry and clean.” She patted Renna’s back. “That’s due to your youth and the good earth’s bountiful help. Now,” she said, hurrying on before Renna could gather enough momentum to fight them, “on the count of three, Handy and I are going to lift you up, and you’re going to get that good leg under you and push. One, two—”

“Wait, I—”

“Three,” Arie said. Renna was upright before she could protest further, with Handy doing the greater share of the lifting to compensate for her bad leg. She swayed a little in their arms.

“Dizzy,” she said. Her voice was thick and unsteady.

“You’ve been lying down for days,” Arie said. “That’s just your heart working against gravity again.” They stood still with Renna between them, letting her get used to standing. She let her head fall to one side so that it rested on Handy’s shoulder. Arie pretended not to notice. After a minute or so passed, Arie patted her back again. “Still dizzy?”

“Better, I think,” Renna said.

“Stand up straight, then. We’re going to take a little walk.”

“I can’t. It hurts too much,” she moaned.

“No doubt it does,” said Arie. She shook the brown bottle of Indica tincture—now half gone—and uncorked it. “Take a little of this. It’ll help.” She expected Renna to object or at least ask what it was, but she sipped from the bottle without a question. “Don’t you wonder what it is?” Arie asked her.

“Yes,” said Renna, wincing a little at the taste of it.

“What if it was poison?”

“Is it?” she asked, not looking as if she cared.

“No. It’s medicine,” Arie said. “Helps with pain. Not that it matters after you drink, eh? You’re just as dead, if you ask about it after.”

Renna blinked at her. “Why would you poison me now?”

Handy stifled a small laugh, and Arie shot him a look. “Here now,” she said. She got a firm hold on Renna’s arm and shoulders and took a smallish step forward, forcing Renna to come along—Handy too—or risk toppling forward.

“Ow!” Renna wailed. Handy was doing so much of the work for her that Renna’s right side barely touched the floor.

“Quiet down,” Arie said, “and take another step. That medicine you just took will hit in a minute. Lean hard on us and make your good leg do the work.” She poked Handy in the bicep. “Don’t do it all for her,” she said. “Unless you plan on carrying her piggyback all the way to God’s Land.”

He nodded. Arie forced them into another step. Then another. Renna’s face contorted, and she made a soft sound of effort and pain each time she had to move her right leg, but she stopped yelling, perhaps remembering the slap Arie had given her on the first day.

“That big bite got down to muscle,” Arie said as they inched their way across the attic floor. “That’s the one that’s giving you the real hurt. It’s knitting together and trying to work for you at the same time. It’s stiff.” Renna nodded slightly, saying nothing. She was close to panting and her breath smelled of acetone, strong enough to overpower the odor of her unwashed hair. “But if you don’t work it,” Arie added, “it’s going to wither on you. Maybe never heal right.”

“Please, can I stop for just a minute?” Renna said, sounding as though she’d just finished a footrace.

“Sure,” Arie said. They’d made it about six feet and were almost to the makeshift sofa. “Catch your breath a bit and we’ll settle you over there.” She pointed at the car seat.

The rhythmic sun-shadow pattern of the spinning turbine vent dappled the floor at Renna’s feet. She painstakingly inched forward the toes of her right foot, out from under the loose skirt that Arie had put on her, and into the fluttering reflection. “That’s pretty,” she whispered. The light and shade fled over her dirty, bony foot. Somewhere outside, a blue jay scolded.

“Take a deep breath,” Arie said. “Almost there.” They got to the sofa and eased her down until she sat on Handy’s bedding. “There,” Arie told her. “You’ll be ready to run in no time.” She realized how dire that sounded under the circumstances and amended. “Or dance the watusi.”

Renna looked up, arming sweat from her forehead. “Dance…what?”

Arie shook her head. “It was a thing my granny used to say. They did it in the time before the Pink, a long time before I was born. I’m going to check your hip, so you go ahead and lay over for a minute.” Renna did so in stiff little increments. She sighed and closed her eyes.

Arie pulled Handy aside. “She needs more food. Did you smell her breath?”

He nodded. “What was that?”

“It’s her body eating itself. Healing uses up a lot of power, and she’s been too out of it to do much more than take bone broth.” She lowered her voice. “What’s needed most is some fresh meat. She needs the protein.”

“I can go for it.”

Arie gave him a level stare. “Stop a minute and think with your best mind, not whatever passes for a man’s mind when a fertile woman is in the room.”

He looked at the floor and scratched one ear. “You fancy yourself a mind-reader, sister. It wears.”

“I’ll concern myself with your delicate feelings later. Right now I want your carefullest estimation about going out there alone. Do you calculate it’s a reasonable move, or are you showing off?”

He ticked off reasons on his fingers. “It’s been a full three days and nights since you saw someone. We’ve set a watch round the clock, from the roof and from down below, and have seen no threat since.” He paused, looking at her carefully. The ambient morning light falling through the narrow east-facing window caught in his pale blue-green eyes.