Prophet of the Badlands (The Awakened Book 1) (32 page)

Father’s voice called; it was time for breakfast. Today, Althea tried to use the fork thing, but grew frustrated by the food slipping off more often than it made it to her mouth. Karina drew her into her lap and helped, holding her hand and working the infernal device for her until she started to get the hang of it. They laughed, and for an ephemeral moment, Althea did not think of herself as anything more than an ordinary girl.

After dishes, Karina had to go away for a time to something she called a “job.” Everyone over the age of fifteen had a task assigned to them, a necessary thing to keep Querq prospering. Althea decided to wander the city. Doctor Ruiz suggested her “job” be with him, learning what he called medicine. The concept sounded alien to her, but it involved helping others, so she had not objected. An official job would wait until she was a little older, and a lot caught up on how to be “civilized.” For now, the council decreed she should enjoy the last bits of her childhood.

The morning passed in a blur of screaming children and strange games. Most of the kids here were nice and invited her to join them in their play. The small ones were happy in a way Althea had forgotten how to be, and those her own age or slightly older regarded her with reverence. She lost herself in the frolic of youth, her bliss interrupted only briefly by tending to a scuffed knee.

After a time, the children dispersed, each back to their respective homes, and her wander resumed. The townspeople all doted on her, some even bowing or blessing themselves as she went by. Althea felt awkward at their adulation, offering polite smiles and asking those able to understand English to treat her like a normal person.

Querq was bigger than she thought, and roaming it for most of the day left her tired. Streets, backyards, and dried out swimming pools all ran together into a blur of disorientation. She sat on the curb to catch her breath. Closing her eyes, she leaned back and let the sun fall on her face. The shouts of distant small children filled the air, interspersed with the occasional raised voice from one of the watchmen reporting an all clear.

A din of shouting came out of the murk of ambient noise, growing louder and louder as two men ranted at each other, lost in some manner of dispute. Curious, she jumped up and ran across the street, ducking through a broken wooden fence. Among a mess of pipes and metal scraps, a pair of men yelled and waved their fists at each other. The one on the left had white hair.

“Why are you so loud?” Her innocent question stalled them both in mid-argument.

“Juan has taken the voltage regulator from one of the water purifiers for his mechanical gate.” The older of the two pointed.

“Bullshit, old man. I never touched it. The gate motor is still missing the regulator.”

“That’s because you hid it till I stopped looking for it.”

“Why is that blinking?” Althea pointed at flashing orange light inside a rusting metal box. The machinery within chugged with a labored thrumming.

“It’s running hot, gonna burn out without the regulator, and we’re all gonna be drinkin’ shitwater,” the white-haired man yelled even louder.

Juan waved his arms up and down, pacing. “I did not.”

Althea peered into the accused man’s thoughts, finding no trace of memory indicating he had taken it. “He didn’t do it.”

“The hell you say?” the other man stammered, no longer yelling.

He didn’t do it.
She sent her thoughts into his mind.
You just don’t like him because he wed your daughter.

The man babbled, and looked at Juan who had folded his arms in an “I told you so” stance. Spanish muttering followed. Althea understood it as an apology.

“While you two were fighting, the pump was getting more broken. You’re both being stupid and risking everyone getting sick.”

The older man pressed his fists to his hips and scowled at the dirt. After a few seconds, he nodded. They both got to the task of searching for the missing part as she strolled out of their yard and went down the street. A passing guard spun on his heel when he spotted her, and came jogging over.

“Althea,” he yelled.

She stopped, fighting the instinct to tremble and back away from a man with a gun coming towards her. She stood her ground, but stared at her toes.

“Althea, there you are,” he said, out of breath. “Karina has been searching for you.”

“Oh!” Althea looked up, all traces of fear evaporated. “I…” She glanced around. “I don’t know where I am.”

“Come, I will take you home.”

She took his hand, letting him lead her along the coarse white path.

“It is wonderful to have you here with us.” He smiled at the clouds. “Do you like it here in Querq?”

Althea nodded. “Yes, but I wish people would stop bowing to me. I’m just a girl.”

The guard chuckled. “Aye.”

After two blocks, Karina’s distant calls of her name made it through the ambient noise. Althea ran ahead, pivoted back to smile and wave at the guardsman, and hooked right at the next street. From there, her sister was visible standing tiptoe on the front porch, her skin dark against a long yellow dress. Althea yelled and jumped; the white of a smile appeared on Karina’s face. Racing down the street, she bounded up the steps and into a strong hug that lifted and spun her around once before her feet again made contact with the painted wood.

Karina pulled her through the door. “Come on, we have things to do.”

With the last bits of remaining daylight, Althea helped with household chores. She reveled in the normality of it, despite it being work. As a prized pet, she never did anything but sit there and heal people. Helping out around the house made her feel like part of a family.

Father waited at the table as it was Karina’s turn to cook, and she began to teach Althea the art of making a tortilla. Later, flour covered them both, and Father’s mood had improved; the life she brought into their home had lifted him out of the doldrums within which he lingered after the loss of his wife.

With the dishes done, Karina sat behind her on the back porch steps and brushed her hair amid the glow of a lantern and many peals of laughter. After a while, Father stumbled into the doorway, a silent, pointing golem of deprived sleep. Stifling their snickers, the girls ducked under his arm and went off to their shared bed. Karina had given her a white cotton thing to sleep in that no longer fit her. On Althea, it ran down to her shins. She studied it before sitting on the edge of the bed.

“I can’t run in this.”

Karina laughed. “It’s not for running. It’s for sleeping. It’s called a nightgown.”

Althea felt the material. “It’s soft. Like a blanket with arm holes.”

They both giggled.

“Hush before Daddy gets mad at us. He needs to sleep.” Karina held the covers up so she could climb in.

Althea woke with the sun, lying on her side with Karina clinging to her as if she were a large doll. The horizon through the window faded from grey to orange as the sun breached the line of Earth and slid into the sky. Althea clasped her hands over the arm encircling her chest. The thing called a nightgown was stifling, but she kept still, at ease with the loving presence of family.

When Father knocked at the wall to wake them, Karina stirred in her sleep, squeezing her tight. Althea squirmed at the sense of warm breath down the back of her neck and patted Karina’s arm to rouse her. The girl did not move until Father entered and gave her shoulder a gentle nudge, and both of them got a brief hug as they clambered out of bed. Leaving them to dress, Father caused a clamor of pots and pans as he made breakfast down the hall.

Freedom from the nightgown came over her like a pleasant autumn breeze. Much to Karina’s discomfort, Althea stood for a moment fanning herself before reaching for her day clothes. Once again, Karina tried to convince her to discard the pile of tatters. Althea put it on anyway, followed by her new white shirt.

Tightening some of the knots in the leather, she spoke without looking up. “It fits me better.”

“I have other things that would fit you.”

Althea checked the skirt, turning in the mirror. “Before-time clothes fall apart if they get wet or if you get grabbed.” She explained how people only wore what they found on scavenging trips, and those who did not scavenge only got what others abandoned or gifted to them, like the chest-cloth.

Karina pulled her into a hug, patting her on the back. “It’s okay, Thea. I know you miss him, but that life is behind you now. You’re safe here.”

It surprised her she had not felt like crying thinking about him. At the village, only Den seemed to trust her. Most feared her, the chamán tolerated her, and Palik went back and forth between wanting to kill or cage her. Here, everyone adored her. This place, this family, felt safe as though not even being the Prophet could ruin it. She peered up at Karina, and asked with an impish smile if she ever liked a boy.

“I was sweet on Dominguez, but the council disallowed it. The boy they said I could marry is an asshole.” She grumbled.

Althea blinked. The face she made at the literal interpretation of the unfamiliar slang made Karina laugh herself gasping. The attempted explanation of the meaning only confused Althea more and she settled for the simpler explanation he was not a nice person.

“They tell you who to marry?” Althea tilted her head.

Karina smoothed her hands over her dress. “There are only six hundred or so people here. We have to be careful to avoid inbreeding.”

“Inbreeding?”

“If people too close to family have a baby, it will not be healthy.” Karina described some of the things Dr. Ruiz had said about what happens.

Althea listened, thinking it fit her memories of malformed raiders and other sub-vocal horrors she had seen. Karina explained that to prevent problems, the Council kept records of families and relations.

“Oh. Yes. Inbeading is bad.” Althea thought for a minute, furrowing her brow at Karina’s giggles. “What do the words mean on those bits of wood?”

“Those are their judge-names.”

Thinking about how battered the blocks were, Althea’s eyes grew wider. “Wow, they must be very old.”

Karina laughed at the face she made. “No, the judge-names are very old. The judges are not so old. When a judge dies, a new one takes the judge-name.”

“Maybe a new one will let you wed?”

“I’m high on the list for outsiders if we get a new man around here.” Karina giggled.

“What if he’s an asshole?” Althea asked innocently.

They laughed until it hurt.

Sounds of distant gunfire sent Althea scrambling and flailing. Karina fell onto the bed, holding her by the wrists. Althea squirmed, eyes darting about in search of a hiding place, reason lost to feral panic. Karina, shocked she had such trouble containing a malnourished twig of a child, rolled on top of her to pin her to the bed.

“Althea!” Karina’s fifth shout pierced the veil of terror.

She stopped struggling, breathing in rapid gasps, staring at Father who appeared in the door.

He reached the bed in two strides. “What happened?”

Sensing the fight leave her, Karina relaxed her grip and sat up. “Gunfire outside, it scared her wild.”

“They’re coming,” Althea wailed, leaping to cling to Father.

“Relax, child.” His hand cradled her head to his chest. “It is just the hunters gathering food. The shots are too few to mean raiders.”

She looked up at him and then blushed at the floor.

He patted her back. “Do not be ashamed, girl. You have had a hard life.”

Father talked as they went to the kitchen. Althea had no idea what “prey instinct” was or why she had it, if it was a good thing to keep, or if she should discard it like the chest cloth. He figured she would grow out of it. The tattered old chair and its blown-out red cushion felt like thin leather over a board. She sat, staring down her legs at the toe-shaped smudges of clean her feet created on the floor.

It started with the gunshots, a haunting feeling this would not last. There was no phantom vision like when she dreamed Den would die, just a twisting discomfort in the deepest part of her gut. She did not want to tell them why she picked at her food. People believed the Prophet saw the future, if she spoke a word of this, they might take it for truth rather than her own insecurity. Was it? Would bandits take her away from this place, away from her family?

“They can try,” she muttered in a cold, stern voice that did not sound like her.

“What’s that?” Father looked up from his plate.

Karina blinked at her, having felt the wave of rage. Her voice sounded hesitant, almost trembling. “Are you okay?”

The defiant mask melted to her usual smile. “Yes. Sorry. I had bad dreams.”