And no time for any of it. “My bike is in the van?” I asked. “And where is the van?”
“In the parking lot,” she said. “I’m sorry, Cassie, I was going to go, but—”
“But then you saw what was happening,” I finished for her. “And you decided to stay and help. Iz, you can’t do that. You must follow orders. Do you understand? I told you to take the van and go. You might have gotten yourself killed along with me.”
“I didn’t,” she said. “And you needed me. You did.”
It was difficult to argue the truth of that, especially when I had to use her stabilizing arm to limp my way out of the wreckage of the store.
The contrasts were eerie. The store was a pile of wreckage and shredded human remains, but just beyond it the street lay quiet and calm, only a few scattered bricks to show any disorder. The parking lot where Iz had left the van still sat unmolested, all the cars shrouded now with a faint coating of dust that still hung in the twilight air.
“What was that?” Iz asked me, as we got into the van. I took the driver’s side.
“I don’t know,” I said, and looked out on the still, picturesque little town. “But I don’t think we’ll find anything else we can use here.”
Or, I added silently, any survivors. A few lights burned in the windows, but there was an emptiness to this place that went deep, all the way to the unsettled core of the earth.
We would, I thought as I jump-started the van and got it rolling toward the exit, go around this place. Well and far around. For all its peaceful appearance, there was a curse hanging on this place, and a powerful one. I wondered what Rashid would tell me if I removed him from the bottle and asked what had happened here to madden the anima so horribly.
I wondered whether he would lie to me.
Probably.
Transportation acquired, we chose a different route at a crossroads rather than visiting the silent town of Hemmington; this one led to an even smaller hamlet, but thankfully there were people on the streets and cars passing through. The people were scared and nervous, and the cars seemed to be loaded with possessions, but it was better than our last stop.
Luis, always cautious, gassed the van up and did the grocery shopping himself (as if it had been my fault!).… He returned with much the same choices I would have made, but had thrown in some candy bars and soft drinks. “Comfort food,” he said. “Ain’t like we’re going to have a whole lot of comfort, overall. Here, I also picked up camping gear. We’re going to need it, one way or another. Not likely to be a lot of four-star accommodations in our future.”
He’d also, without pointing it out, added some interesting survival tools to our supplies, including a rifle, ammunition, some wickedly lovely knives, and other things whose purposes weren’t quite as clear to me. Esmeralda understood their purpose, however. “Water disinfection tabs, portable chemical heating pads… You’re getting serious about this survivalist stuff. Good for you. This shit’s going to get real, fast.”
“You didn’t see that town,” Isabel said from where she sat on the dirty floor of the van, knees pulled up to her chest. She wasn’t looking up as we inventoried the contents of the bags that Luis had brought, and I worried about the stillness of her posture. It seemed more traumatized than I had expected—but then, I had dragged a child, only six years old in real years, if not in body, into a place full of danger and very real horror. What had I expected, that she would easily adapt? Simply accept what she’d seen?
I sank down beside her and put my arm around her. “We won’t go back,” I said.
“We should,” Iz whispered. “All those people. They all needed help, and nobody was there for them. Now they’re just… waiting. All alone.”
It was, I realized, the neglect that bothered her; we’d left that town without burying a single body, recognizing a single lost life.
I took her hand in mine and squeezed, just a little. “I know,” I said. “But, Isabel, you know we cannot go back there. We just can’t. It’s too dangerous, and all that we can offer them is a pyre or a grave. There are people who need our help to stay alive, and that is where we must turn our efforts.”
“We could use him,” she said.
I knew who she was talking about, but it was something I didn’t want to bring up—not here, not in front of Esmeralda, who was tightly coiled in the corner, watching us with her bright, odd eyes. She was, I thought, jealous. Jealous of the two of us, together, sharing this small grace. Perhaps she’d even been jealous of the fact that I’d taken her with me on the trip to Hemmington. I had no way of knowing; she’d never admit it, if so.
But I didn’t trust her, and couldn’t help that fact. Telling her there was a Djinn captive in a bottle was something far too dangerous. The temptation would be irresistible for her—either to torment the Djinn, or to use him for her own benefit. She had a bad history of that kind of behavior, after all.
No, far better I keep Rashid as a secret, for now. I might have need of him—or Isabel might, though I couldn’t trust his forbearance with her for long. He wasn’t a creature of patience.
“Hey,” Luis said, and I glanced up at him. Iz did not. “Let’s talk outside a minute, Cass.” I nodded, hugged Iz once more, and stood to follow him out of the van. He slammed the grimy back door and turned the handle to secure it, then walked away. Not far, but far enough that it was clear he didn’t want to be overheard.
Then he turned on me and said, “You almost got her killed.”
“I know,” I said. “I’m sorry. I never intended—”
“You may not intend it, but you can’t say you couldn’t anticipate it. I’m not letting her out of my sight again. Or you. No more splitting up, no matter what.”
“You needed time to—”
“To heal? Yeah. And you’re covered in cuts and bruises and from the way you’re leaning, you’ve got a cracked rib going on there, too. So you tell me, how are we protecting each other, exactly? How can we?” He swallowed hard and put his heavy, warm hands on my shoulders. “We have to look out for each other, because we need each other more than ever. So don’t try to protect me by putting me in the rear, okay? And I won’t do it for you. We look after the girls, and we watch each other’s backs.” He paused, and smiled a little. “God, you’re beautiful.”
I laughed out loud, because it was blackly comical—I was dirty, covered in bruises. My hair still had the shredded remains of leaves from the night in the woods. I’d been coated in dust in Hemmington, which at least had served to mask the nightmarish remains of blood and other less identifiable substances from the abattoir of that destroyed market. “No,” I said. “Not now, and perhaps not ever. But I think you are just surprised to see me standing.”
“Hell, girl, I’m surprised either of us is breathing. And you are beautiful. Always.” He kissed me so tenderly that it stilled everything for a moment, all the pain and fear and worry and time ticking away. And then he made me smile by saying, “Okay, I’m not saying you couldn’t get an upgrade with a shower and shampoo, maybe a change of clothes. I would personally love to see you in a towel right now.”
“You’re insane,” I said.
“Yeah, well, some people cope with certain death by getting a little bit horny. Why, are you saying you wouldn’t like that right now?”Oddly enough, even after everything—or, perhaps because of it—the idea had a certain bizarre appeal. I was overwhelmingly aware of time passing, of the situation worsening around us, but the fantasy that somehow this could stop just for an hour, perhaps two—that we could find some beautiful, quiet space for the two of us and live that fantasy out, in private—seemed breathtakingly lovely.
And impossible, of course. But I was starting to realize that today, and every day after, would be a study in the impossible. Each minute we both still lived was an improbable gift.