The Burn (12 page)

I smile at the warmth of her memories. But I have a
weight in my gut that’s been building since I landed here. At first
glance, the hazy summer morning is idyllic. But the way these
people talk, they’re hunted every minute of their lives.

Nell’s eyes sparkle. “I see a lot of that in you—the
wanting to find something better.”

She bends down, and her knobby fingers gently lift a
weed out. She puts it in the bag next to me.

“There’s a lot of people here who want to find
something better. Who don’t like living scared. But with the way
the world is, I don’t think they will. I’d rather live scared than
live across the sound with
them
.”

I need to get back to work, to distract myself from
the world Nell creates for me, a world that sounds like the colony
spinning out of control. But she tsks when she sees my cramped
hands.

“Don’t push yourself too hard the first day, or you
won’t be able to help the second.” She pulls my hands free of the
dirt. “Why don’t you just sit here and rest for a minute while I do
the weeding? I could use the conversation. Red’s knees are too
arthritic for all this kneeling. He works in the kitchen mostly.
Dave tells me you’re from the Arizona desert, so you’re probably
not much used to our kind of farming.”

I shake my head, wincing as I rub my sore
fingers.

“That’s alright. There’s probably things you might be
able to teach us. Old dogs, you know.” And she winks at me. I can’t
help but giggle. She’s as old as my grandmother, but nothing like
her. Nell instantly puts me at ease.

“Dave told me a few details of your conversation this
morning.”

I raise an eyebrow. How quickly does news travel
here? She smiles.

“You’re right, in a place like this, I’m surprised he
didn’t just shout it in the cafeteria. Dave is a special one, and I
think he’s fond of you, right quick.”

She crawls along a few feet to an unweeded patch. I
carry the weed bag for her. I itch for her to continue her train of
thought, but I don’t want to rush her. She’s the type of person who
shouldn’t be rushed.

The sun is just overhead, and two figures come from
the school. The shorter one carries a big tray, and the taller one
carries a jug.

“That’ll be Jack and Mary with the lunch,” Nell says.
“Let’s go eat.”

Lunch is simple: bread, strawberries, sharp cheese,
and water. It’s strawberry season, and while our group weeds the
tuber field, another group has been picking the strawberries before
they get too ripe. Nell tells me, “If you don’t get the
strawberries, the birds will.”

Nell explains that one of the biggest challenges is
keeping the wildlife out of the fields. Someone always patrols the
fields, day and night, to keep the animals away. Red enjoys the
job, it doesn’t bother his arthritis, and he likes to carry a gun.
I laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Dave brings over his lunch and
sits down beside us. I’m unable to stop laughing. I point to
Nell.

“Just telling Terra that Red is a little gun happy.”
She takes a dainty nibble of her cheese.

Dave nods. “But at least he’s safe about it. Better
than some people.” He nods toward Mary. She glances over her
shoulder at us. Her rifle lays slung across her back. I remember
the disgust on Red’s face when she threw the gun on the beach. “She
always has that thing with her, even when she’s here in the middle
of us.”

Nell studies him. “She’s been through a lot, over in
Seattle. A lot I can relate to. Did you ever ask her about it?”

Dave shifts side-to-side. “Well, no. You know how
awkward it’s been ever since she’s been back.”

Nell nods. “The only thing I’ll say is you have no
one to blame but yourselves. Now I’ll let it rest. But Terra’s good
company.” Then she walks away to sit down by another small cluster
of workers.

The blush creeps up my cheeks, and I hope that out
here in the sun and heat, Dave can’t see it.

“Sometimes I think she’s just a meddling busy-body.”
He bites a huge chunk of bread. I scowl at him for the
less-than-stellar appraisal of Nell—’s quickly becoming a very good
friend. He laughs, half-choking on the bread as he swallows.

“I guess good ol’ Nell has you under her spell
already. Funny how she can do that to people. I still haven’t
figured it out yet.” He rubs a hand on the back of his neck. His
perplexed look makes me laugh. He bumps my shoulder with his
own.

“And I love how easily you laugh. I think that’s your
spell.”

I'm about to grasp his hand, to spell something
there, but a series of three sharp whoops cuts through the air, and
the playful look on Dave’s face vanishes. All around me, people
scrabble for their tools and dash toward the trees.

Dave clutches my hand and yanks me to my feet.

“Hurry! Gather your things—get everything. There’s
choppers coming.”

I frantically grasp at my plate and cup. The
strawberries slide to the ground. I look around once more. There’s
nothing else. Dave already has the weed bag. He grabs my elbow and
almost wrenches my arm off as he breaks into a run and pulls me
along. We jump over the rows of oca. His legs stretch into long
strides, and I can hardly lift my boots that high and my feet slog
around in them, throwing off my balance. I stumble and fall in a
cushion of plants. My first thought is that I destroyed someone’s
meal this winter. But Dave’s ashen face tells me this shouldn’t be
my first concern. Ahead of us, Nell hurries, but can’t move fast
enough.

“Go, Terra!” Dave yells.

From the direction of the water, I hear a noise that
splits the air and thuds against my ears. I untangle myself and
look back. There is nothing but blue sky. The picture is so serene,
but I feel the terror pressing against my chest. I can’t
breathe—the air only comes in gasps.

Dave scoops up Nell in his arms. He barrels through
the remaining oca. Nell clings to him like a frightened child. She
is small and frail as one. Her face is white.

I race across the wide sweep of long grass, following
the trails the others made as they sprinted for cover. I remember
the stories Mr. Klein told us about hunts in England. Foxes being
chased by huge hounds and men and women on horseback. I feel like
that fox, now, with nothing but my legs to keep myself from danger.
I am exposed here in the grass; anything could catch me here. But
I’m still not sure what I run from.

I duck behind a tree and peer around. Dave staggers.
His face is red and his forehead pulses. But he won’t let go of
Nell, even as he starts to fall into the shadow of trees. Another
man jumps out and catches Nell just as they reach us. Dave crouches
on the ground next to me, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

The canopy of leaves reaches its shadow out and then
the sun slices it and everything else glows. In the distance, two
black birds fly toward us. But they aren’t birds. They have
propellers and they don’t swoop in the sky. They trace a course
straight toward the school. Nell trembles and squeezes my hand.

“Don’t move,” Dave says.

We all collectively hold our breaths. The helicopters
are close enough now that I see huge machine guns mounted to the
sides. Nell told me there were flyovers. I hadn’t dreamed the
helicopters would look like angels of death.

They hang suspended over the school for several
seconds. Then they sweep toward us and over the oca field. The oca
billows under the beating air. I’ve been crouching too long and my
legs cramp up. I want to scream. But one look at Nell’s face
steadies me. Her lips tremble, but her eyes shine with
defiance.

“What are they looking at?” Dave looks back into a
dozen wide eyes. “Did anyone leave anything behind?”

We all shake our heads in unison. And then a gasp and
a woman points. On the field is an abandoned weed bag.

“They won’t see it,” Dave says. “It’s the same color
as the dirt. They won’t see it.”

He’s trying to convince himself. I want to believe
him, but the helicopters hover for an eternity. I can see the open
door. A gleam of glass from the door, and then a pinprick of light.
I hiss and grab Dave’s hand.

Have they ever taken pictures before?

He shakes his head numbly, like he doesn’t even
realize what I asked him. His face sags.

The helicopters hover over the field for another
moment, then tilt toward the west and are gone. I still hear the
chop drumming in my ears.

After an hour, we finally move.

“We’re done for the day. No more work. Back to the
school.” Dave is no longer pale, but his face is craggy.

The silence is as tangible as sand on my skin as we
break from our crouches. No one wants to be the first out from
under the trees. Nell slips her hand into Dave’s and lets him lead
her toward the oca field. The rest of us fall in line.

“And someone get that bag,” Dave says.

The sun is orange and heavy and I stumble, my legs
numb with kneeling and the hiking boots. Now that we are out of the
shadow, Dave flicks me a smile.

“You’d better get your energy back. You came on just
the right day—we’re having a bonfire to celebrate the strawberry
harvest.”

A celebration? Now?

“Maybe you didn’t have bonfires in Arizona with how
dry and hot it is. Well, we build a great big fire and we dance and
sing and talk.”

I can’t believe he’s talking about having a party
after this afternoon. I don’t know what would have happened if
those helicopters had found exactly what they were looking for, but
I don’t need to. I saw the terror in everyone’s faces and felt the
stone in my own stomach and knew it would be disaster for everyone.
And now Dave says they’re going to dance?

“I know. It seems wrong somehow. But I think it’ll be
better this way. Everyone won’t brood on it too long.”

I just escaped one world with dances that I dreaded,
just to come to another dance. I glare. That brightens Dave’s
face.

“Oh, come on! It won’t be that bad, I promise. And if
it is, I’ll show you where you can hide out and avoid the whole
thing.”

I glance sidelong at him. He rolls his eyes.

“You’re coming to at least try it out. I’ll stay
right by you.” Then he leans down conspiratorially. “I won’t let
Mary and her rifle anywhere near you.”

I guffaw so loud that several people turn to look at
me, and I slap a hand over my mouth.

As we come in the school, several people disappear up
the stairs. Red stands in the lobby waiting. He sees Nell and hugs
her against his chest.

“She’s fine, Red. I helped her to the trees.”

Red reaches out a hand and shakes Dave’s fervently.
“They find anything?”

“They took pictures this time.”

Red tightens his grip on Nell. “I don’t know how much
longer we can stay here. Those flyovers are coming more
frequently.”

Dave nods. “Like they’re putting together the puzzle
pieces.”

Red kisses Nell’s hair. “I’m sending everyone up to
get the windows closed early. We’re all a little on edge.”

“We’re still having the bonfire,” Dave says.

Red half-smiles. “I figure you’d want to. Probably be
good to distract everyone. Come on in to dinner.”

I grab a plate of food. As I walk to a table, I see
Jack sitting by the radio. His plate of food is on one knee, the
pad of paper and pencil on another. His hazel eyes brighten and he
waves me over. He’s probably Dave’s age, maybe two years older than
me.

“Do you want to listen in?” he asks.

I nod. I hear the crackle and whisper of the radio
every time I’m in the cafeteria. There is always someone listening,
ready to write. I want to know what they listen to.

Jack hands me the notebook and pencil. “You can be
record keeper.”

I hold the pencil. What do I write?

“Did you have a radio in Arizona?”

I shake my head.

“How did you keep up with what was going on in the
government?”

The government? Is the radio the only way they know
what’s going on?

I shrug. Jack shakes his head.

“No wonder everything’s such a nightmare. There’s
still people who can’t even hear them.”

From what I’ve seen, that’s not the problem. It’s the
methods they use to control the country.

“Alright then, just write down important things. I’ll
help you figure it out.”

I bend over the notebook, and Jack chews his food.
Every few minutes, the radio whines at us, but we hear nothing. I
look at Jack.

“Sometimes it’s like this, other times there’s a lot
going on.”

Then an echoey voice comes out.

“The uprisings in Portland ended peacefully this
morning. Forty-five citizens were detained for questioning. The
rest were dismissed to their homes. We remind citizens of every
city that the cities exist for your protection. In the wilderness,
we cannot protect you from dangers both internal and from foreign
nations. Anyone found outside city limits will be detained for
questioning.”

Jack laughs grimly. “That’s a euphemism for put in a
labor camp. I swear they have to open a new one every day for how
many people have been ‘detained for questioning.’ Write down that
the uprising in Portland is over.”

I scribble furiously. Then the radio lies quiet for
several minutes. I take a bite of food. Jack eats his, but he
doesn’t say anything more. His eyes are thoughtful. Then the radio
crackles again.

“Updated supply-drop schedule.”

Jack’s head whips up, and he taps the paper. This is
important.

“All drops will take place in two days at nine
o’clock in the morning. The following cities in western New America
will receive food drops: Portland, Sacramento, and Phoenix. The
following cities in western New America will receive medical drops:
Seattle, Salt Lake City, and San Diego. No other drops are
scheduled at this time.”