Ignition Point (12 page)

The child turned her face, then, and Lena’s resolve hardened. The girl looked to be no more than three, her plump cheeks and wide forehead framed by matted pale hair. The bastards had already branded her, the raised scarring bigger on her small face than on her mother’s. Above the brand, her eyes were sunken and dark under more welted burn scars. She cocked her small head, listening, her sightless face tracking across the camp.

Her mother saw Lena staring at her daughter.

“They took her eyes. They said it would slow me down. To keep me from running with her again. She’s a Spark, like you. It was Marreau and Linc’s big plan. To keep trying to get a strong one for the Council. When I only made a mid-range, they figured they only had to wait twelve years to try again with her.”

Lena swallowed.
Was this where the rumors about strong girls came from? Scavs trying in vain to make a Spark like Lena?
She should’ve known better than to believe, however briefly.

The woman stroked her daughter’s hair. “What will you do now? With us?”

“I’m going to heal my friend now. And then we’ll all talk. I’m Lena.”

The woman’s brow dipped down. Her mouth opened then she closed it. “My name is Gabriela. My daughter is Corazon.”

Lena felt a small smile lift her lips. “You named her Heart. That’s lovely.”

Gabriela nodded, settled her daughter on her hip and moved closer to watch. Lena noted, gratefully, that she stayed away from the hilt of the knife that protruded from the ground. It was one less thing to worry about now that Lena was at the limit of her abilities.

She turned back to Ghost, who shivered beside her.

“Can you really help him?” Damar was doubtful, but Lena could see he wanted to believe.

Lena nodded. “But I need to be able to trust that you’ll watch for us.”

“Of course!”

“We’ll both watch,” Gabriela told her.

Lena pushed out with her mind, reaching for the Dust again. As always, it responded immediately. It swirled and whispered, waiting and eager. The danger to Lena now wasn’t that the Dust wouldn’t do what she asked. It always did. The danger was that Lena would lose her awareness of how far she was pushing her own brain.

In contact with the Dust within Ghost’s body, Lena watched it sink away and dart through him. She noted the damage and wondered how long she’d been unconscious.

The bruising and small bleeds from the beatings Ghost must have suffered would heal on their own. They wouldn’t be comfortable, but she didn’t need to expend the little of her gift that was left to deal with them. His knee, though….

Lena’s stomach twisted. Bone fragments from his kneecap were lodged in the wound that tore from the front of his leg to the tender skin at the back. This would take everything she had left.

She felt a long, unsteady stream of air ease out between her lips and lifted her hands to either side of Ghost’s knee. The Dust swarmed to pulse currents through muscle and tendons, speeding the healing. The fragments lifted, re-attached. The terrible steel-rod rent narrowed. Ghost’s skin closed.

Lena felt an answering pulse now in her temples. For every current within Ghost’s leg, there was an answering pressure in her head. Dimly, she was aware of a small, excited voice.

“Mama! I see a big light!”

Lena fell back, pulling away from the Dust. The pressure in her head shifted now. With every beat of her own blood, her brain came closer to failure. Her nerves were raw pain, shrieking.

She tried to rise, stumbled, fell onto her ass in the sand. The contact jarred up her back. Her neck. Into her head. She had to get up. She had to stand.

She had to ground.

“No!” Ghost’s voice, high and urgent. “Lena, wait! Let us get to safety!”

Had she spoken her thoughts out loud?

“Go!” Ghost urged the others away. She couldn’t see them. She couldn’t see anything beyond a red haze. She didn’t know if they’d gotten a safe distance away. Didn’t know if Ghost’s leg worked well enough for him to run.

She only knew that she was out of time.

Please. Please.

Was she begging for their safety, or for hers?

It didn’t matter. Lena planted her feet and let go. The overloaded Dust poured down her body, swarming the outside of her skin, inside her veins and flesh, seeking release in the earth. Dust from the earth raged up. They met—

Lena’s world exploded. This was no crack of lightning, it was a boom, blasting out from within her. Electricity flared through and around her. It arced out to the ground, then up to the sky in jagged ladders. Her clothes flared into flame. The fire licked at her protected skin with the current.

Then it was gone. All she felt was her body falling and flames on her skin.

She woke slowly. Her body throbbed in time to the pain still in her head. Even the post-grounding nausea was secondary to the pain. Water trickled into her mouth from somewhere above her, and she grimaced. It overflowed, running down her chin to pool in the curve of her neck. She inhaled, choked, then gagged.

She tried to roll onto her side, but she was already there. Hands on her back held her up.

“Swallow next time, okay?” A woman’s voice. “You inhaled a lot of smoke before we pulled you out.”

Lena cracked her eyes. The grey light of dawn. Sand. Pebbles. A pair of small, dirty feet.

She turned her head. The woman—Gabriela?—looked down at her.

“It’s good that Sparks heal fast. The few burns you had are already mending.” Gabriela’s eyes flicked up to look at her daughter. The woman’s face clouded.

Lena imagined she was remembering her own daughter’s burns. Was she afraid now for her little Spark? Had Gabriela or her daughter ever seen Marreau ground?

“It’s why we ground naked,” Lena managed. She took a shaky breath. “We’re protected from electrical burns by the Dust that moves up from the ground. But when the grounding is over….”

“The Dust falls away,” the woman finished for her. “And then you can be burned like anyone else. Yes, Marreau had started training Corazon. She has grounded once.”

“Already?” Lena couldn’t keep the horror from her voice. She’d started at four, and it had been terrifying, even with the comfort of her mother there to guide her. She couldn’t imagine her first experience being accompanied by the Scavenger monster.

Gabriela smiled, but the expression was feral. “He said she had to start earning her keep one way or another.”

“And now he’s dead.” Lena could hear the satisfaction in her own voice.

“Yes.”

Lena exhaled. Her eyes closed again. Small, cool hands patted at her cheeks, offering her comfort. Lena opened her eyes and smiled up at the girl. She pushed away the well of grief that tried to fill her belly at the sight of the little one’s ruined eyes. She would not mourn for a little girl who could already teach others about survival.

Lena covered one of the little hands with her own. “Thank you for helping me, Corazon.”

The girl giggled. She reclaimed her hand to reach for her mother. Gabriela took her hand, and the little girl carefully circled Lena’s head so her mother could lift her.

Lena sat up. A thin blanket fell away, and the cold morning air of the desert raised gooseflesh on her naked skin. Of course. Her clothes had burned away.

Gabriela squatted to pick up a small bundle of clothing and worn boots. She offered it to Lena, a gift of incredible generosity when she and the little girl had even less than most who had to scavenge or make their own goods.

Lena took them, murmuring her thanks. She pulled the clothing on and tucked the shirt into the pants to fill the gap.

In the weak light of sunrise, smoke rose from the smoldering tents surrounding the area where the Scavengers had held her. Blackened humps were embedded in the glassy, broken surface of the ground where Lena discharged her build-up. At the other end of what had been the camp, Damar carried water to a small group of people sitting in a ring near the cages. Ghost stood nearby, sorting through the goods that remained in the wagons. He limped over to his brother to show him something he’d pulled out.

Lena frowned. “I wasn’t able to finish. He still has pain.”

“But he lives,” Gabriela pointed out. “He walks.”

Ghost turned his head and saw them. He made his slow way over to them.

“I’m sorry, Ghost,” Lena began as soon as he was near enough. “I was overloaded. I can finish now.”

The young man flashed a smile and shook his head. Ghost flexed his knee to show her his mobility. “It’ll heal well, I think. There’s not much pain. Just the memory of it.” He stopped to shake his head, casting that memory away. “Are you well? We’ll be ready to go soon.”

“Go?”

Ghost grinned. “They’re all coming with us—Damar and me. To Texas.”

Lena couldn’t keep the surprise from her face. Considering the way Gabriela and her daughter had been mistreated, to simply throw their lot in with Ghost?

Gabriela answered Lena’s astonishment. “He’s young, but he’s more a man than those who kept us. He came for his family. He gave us freedom.” She offered Lena a smile for her concern, then hitched Corazon up higher on her hip and turned to stride away to Damar and the others, now loading a wagon.

Lena turned back to Ghost. She raised her brows and gave him a wide smile. “You’re still going to Texas?”

He shrugged. “We’re going to find the group I know of.” He glanced down at his feet and flexed his knee again. “You could come with us.”

Lena shook her head. Ghost didn’t seem surprised. “I have my own home.”

“There’s safety in numbers, Lena.”

She smiled. “I like being alone. It suits me.”

Ghost didn’t seem surprised. “There’s a rancho to the northwest, in the foothills, almost to Colorado,” he said softly. He merely grinned at Lena’s confused frown and continued, “A place where my people would shelter when we traveled north. Just a few adobe houses. Some standing. Some not so much. Picked clean, so no interest from those moving though.” He looked down at his feet, scuffing them in the dirt. When he glanced back up, he was wearing a wide smile. “But there’s a bunker. A steel door. Looks like lots have tried to get in—including us—but no one ever has. Girl like you, though…a special kind of Spark…I figure you maybe could.”

Lena stared at him. A bunker that had been sealed since the Great Disaster two hundred years before? Excitement burbled in her stomach. Even if there wasn’t anything useable in it, just to get a glimpse of what might be down there would be an experience.

“You didn’t have to tell me. You don’t owe me anything, Ghost.”

Ghost shook his head. “No telling what might be in there. Maybe all kinds of stuff you can use. Maybe nothing. No point in holding on to it, though, not when we’re heading southeast. I’m hoping there’s no reason to come back. Not ever.”

Lena felt her lips drawing up into a wide smile. Even if Ghost never found the people he was looking for in Texas, she had a feeling he and his new family would do all right. He grinned before he ducked his head and propped his leg out to the side with a hiss so he could squat and draw a rough map in the dirt with his finger. Lena knelt beside him, watching the sure strokes of his hand. No hesitation. He knew this way. When he was done, and he was satisfied that Lena understood, they rose together. He stepped back.

Lena looked at the ground, and the map scrawled upon it. She hated good-byes. She sucked at them.

“Be well,” she mumbled, “and don’t you dare undo all my hard work, you crazy Neo-barb.”

Ghost grinned. He opened his mouth as if to offer a farewell, but then just shook his head and gave her a small smile. He turned and limped away to his new people.

Lena felt a pang as she watched him go. He was a good man. He’d make a good leader. But she didn’t fit well with people or rules or family, whether it came from a city Council or a Neo-barb community. She was meant to be alone. The freedom of the desert was all she needed.

She glanced down at the map scored into the earth. She knelt to commit it to memory.

A little adventure never hurt, either.

Acknowledgments

My first novel,
Spark Rising
(due to be released November 30, 2014), had the benefit of many eyes—my wonderful beta readers and critiquers who helped all along the way. These stories were different. These were much more personal for me. These were the characters whispering in my ear about the things that happened to make them who they are in the novel. I kept these stories close.

For that reason, it is mostly three men I thank for their help: my husband, my brother, and my editor.

My husband, the Oso, doesn’t just make writing logistically possible by working so hard to support my writing habit, but he believes, fiercely, in my talent. He also knows when to push, when to challenge, when to cajole. Combined, this is an exquisite gift better than any of the baubles and surprises he likes to spring on me with a big grin (but I do love them all, Honey, so don’t stop. Ha ha!). I love you, big bear, for all that we have been, we are, and we will be.

My brother Tim shares the dreams. He inspires me every step of the way. Not just as a sounding board, but as my first audience. I take my story ideas to him, rough and uncut little bits, and sit at his table with a pad and pen. He nods and grins and gets excited for me as we talk and I write and he cooks. He gives me the encouragement and the enthusiasm I need to riff on those ideas until they sing.

My editor Bryan Thomas Schmidt, of Finish the Story Editing, read these stories and went a step beyond polishing and shining. He questioned them, returning them again and again, forcing me to see who these characters are instead of focusing on who they became. Lucas’s story, especially, was shaped by his insistence that I look deeper, even when I had to follow Lucas to places where I am uncomfortable. Bryan made me keep pushing, and that’s exactly what I needed. I am so grateful.

While I didn’t avail myself of the talents of my beta readers on these stories, I did find comfort, guidance, and inspiration (so much inspiration!) from the members of the SFR Brigade, especially Cathryn Cade and Pippa Jay. All of the writers of the Brigade are enormously talented—you should check them out!

I’m also grateful to you, reader holding this story in your hand. Writing is largely solitary. Other than those in our immediate circles who offer support and encouragement (and for a first-time writer, that’s a fairly small circle), we have no idea if the stories we spin will ever be seen. This is especially true for a first-time author. But you chose this book. You chose to read these stories. YOU CHOSE THIS BOOK! You are amazing. Thank you!