Lucy turned her head to retch, the tepid water she’d drunk frothing over her lips and mixing with the sand only inches from her face. “Oh God,” she said, staring at it. “Oh God, that’s why it tastes so bad.”
Ben crossed his arms, and Lander pulled her back up to face him. “Well, I can’t be held responsible for the quality,” Ben said. “It’s the quantity that’s the problem. Nora and I had a long talk about swelling a few years ago, and I figured out that if we broke every bone in their bodies first, there was a much better yield.”
Lucy went over into her own mess then, kicking Ben’s bucket away from her and spilling the pink water over his pants. Ben wiped at his jeans, looking distastefully at the spreading stains.
Flat on her stomach, Lucy stared at the pile of red that had once been human beings—three men, she guessed—and the tiny amount of water that had come out of the bucket she’d kicked. “What a waste,” she cried into the sand, her tears drying on her cheeks before they could cut tracks in the dirt griming her skin.
“I wouldn’t say that,” Ben said, hands on his hips. “True, we can’t cook them long before they start to rot, but everything left over goes right into the garden for the plants.”
Lucy dry-heaved, her stomach clenching so tightly she cried out with the pain of it.
“What?” Ben asked. “I thought you liked tomatoes?”
The ride into the city was silent. Lucy sat in the backseat, the blooming hope of a new life here having been plucked and withered within a short time. The emptiness swelled again, making her limbs so heavy Lander had to carry her to the room she shared with Nora. The older woman gave her a smile and tucked her into bed, explaining in her calm and reassuring voice that there was no other way.
“Now do you understand why we need you to witch for us, and to do it well, little one?”
“I can’t find water if it’s not there,” Lucy said. “If the veins dry out, that’s not my fault.”
“It’s not about fault,” Nora said. “It’s just important you know the situation. We’ve been adding the water Ben’s machine gathers to what we had left of the pool and fountain water.”
“Why don’t you say what it is?” Lucy asked. “It’s not water you’ve gathered. You killed for it pure and simple, and you’re drinking… I’ve drunk…” Her lungs hitched, spiking her blood pressure and sending black dots across her vision.
“All right, that’s enough,” Nora said sternly, pushing Lucy back onto her pillow. “I understand you’ve got your reservations about the process, but you’ll understand in time. And remember, if it weren’t for our ways we’d have been dead in this city long ago, and you on the road with no one to save you.”
Lucy nodded meekly.
“Good then.” Nora smiled. “You get some sleep for now. We can talk about it more in the morning.”
Nora slid into her own bed, and Lucy listened to her breathing even out and soon hitch with the light snore she’d become accustomed to hearing. Once she knew Nora was deep asleep, she slid from bed, dressed in her threadbare clothes from the road, and dug in her pack for the two Tasers Ben had given her.
“Sorry, Nora,” she said, before striking. “I kinda liked you.”
Thirty-Three
She’d never been in the hallway in the middle of the night. The blackness was so deep, Lucy couldn’t see her hand in front of her face and had to feel the walls until she reached the stairwell. The walk felt infinite because of her blind, measured steps, and the slow simmer of panic began deep in her gut as Lucy wondered if she’d made a mistake and was on the wrong side of the hall. If Nora was conscious before they were gone, she could only imagine what Lander and Ben would do. She doubted the grisly contraption in the desert was the only machine Ben had created.
The stairwell door wheezed open beneath her hand and she inched forward, toes reaching for the drop-off of the first step, hands flailing for the railing. She found it and latched on, counting each step and sliding her foot forward once she reached the landing, her hands following the curve of the railing as she made the turn to the next set of stairs. The barest smear of gray marked the window in the stairwell door, and Lucy emerged into the lobby to the pulsing light of clouds racing across the face of the moon.
She hit the outside doors at a run now that she could see, the cool desert air threaded through with the smell of rain rolling in. A bank of black clouds lined with the reflected silver of the moon was piling up in the west, and Lucy could smell the electricity in the air. A storm was coming. A homegrown surge of elation at the promise of rain lent new strength to her legs, and Lucy sprinted past the sand-filled fountains into the lobby of the hotel Lynn now shared with Lander and Ben.
Lucy burst into the lobby and came to a sudden halt. She had no idea where Lynn would be. She could assume Lander and Ben would live on the first floor, as the rising heat would make it unbearable to live any higher. They would probably have Lynn nearby to keep an eye on her, but Lucy could hardly go down the hall knocking on doors when she didn’t even know which room Lander and Ben used.
“Shit,” she said to herself. Lucy peered into a window, teeth sinking into her lip as she thought. A fat drop of rain hit the glass, sliding down to leave a streak in the grime, and inspiration struck. Lucy raced outside, looking for a fluttering curtain. Even though nights were cool, the trapped air inside still baked with the heat of the day long into the night, and Lucy slept with her window open, anxious for the freshness of outside air.
She could only hope Lynn did too.
The face of the hotel stared at her blankly, curtains drawn. A rumble of thunder rolled through the desert, shaking the ground beneath her feet. Lucy’s panic grew with it, taking over her body and sending a spasm of fear down her spine. She ran to the back of the hotel, tripping over her own feet in her haste and flying out of control, skidding on her knees and crying out as her jeans gave way and then her skin.
Lightning flickered and she pulled her knees up to her chin, the black threads of blood mixing with the tattered denim. Tears of frustration pooled in her eyes, and Lucy swiped at them viciously as she tried to stand. The thunder boomed again, seconds after the lightning, and this time the vibration was so great Lucy could hear thousands of windows rattling in their panes.
Movement caught her eye and Lucy lunged for the Taser, springing to her feet. Only a few feet away a white hand was pressed against the window, aching to touch the fat spattering of raindrops as they struck the glass.
“Lynn,” Lucy breathed, but the other woman hadn’t seen her yet, only drawn to the window by the storm. Lucy shuffled toward her, wincing with pain as the newly exposed pink skin on her knees stretched with every movement. The top of her head barely reached the windowsill, and she had to stand on her tiptoes to reach the glass, her own hand spread against it.
Soon she felt the answering warmth of Lynn’s hand pressed against hers from the other side.
There was a guard at Lynn’s door, a man whom Lucy had exchanged nods with as she passed him in the city from day to day. He was asleep, and the gray line of light that fell from Lynn’s cracked door made his spasms all the more gruesome as Lucy tased him. She hadn’t been able to see the grimaces of pain on Nora’s face, only hear the bucking as she convulsed in the dark. When he was still, Lucy looked up at Lynn, hating the tears that ran down her face as she did.
“Huh,” Lynn said. “I guess those things are useful after all.” She was dressed in her clothes from the road, her backpack drawn tight against her shoulder blades.