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I try to look past my resentment and see this world through the perspective of a newcomer. How the lights of the main strip give a soft, ambient glow in the darkness. The conveniences of stores lined along a paved street, stocked with food and supplies, the likes of which aren’t found out in the desert. The careful and attentive landscaping that gives Szolen the illusion of paradise, of a world that existed long before the Dredge decimated it all.
I try to appreciate these things as magnificent creations, an inspiring example of what man can accomplish in the thick of disaster. But all I see is the charade. The hum of power and greed that vibrates beneath the very foundations that serve as salvation to the people who live here. The ones who’d never survive out in the Deadlands.
“It’s dangerous to get too caught up in it. You begin to lose sight of reality.”
“I’ve seen reality. It isn’t pretty. In fact, it’s downright ugly.”
“It is. But it’s the only truth you’ll come to know in this world, Cali. Hang on to what you suffered, because those experiences are what set you apart from the people here.”
The promised movie theater stands with its marquee advertising Back To The Future and Terminator. Movies from the past, I guess.
“You don’t care for them, do you?”
“Some, yes. There are wonderful people who live within these walls. And some of the most evil you’ll ever know.” I twist to see Legion officers trailing our steps, keeping their distance as they casually stroll along, guns strapped across their chests.
“This is where the doctors from Calico live.”
“Their families, mostly. But this is what they kill to defend. Their precious community, untainted by the infected.”
It takes a good twenty minutes to reach Papa’s old house, which stands untouched. Unlived in. As I open the door, a curtain of familiarity and home hits me, suffocating the disdain I feel for this place. It reminds me so much of Six, and Papa, who I miss more and more with each passing day.
“Your father was a doctor?” Eyes skimming over the room, Cali seems to throw my arguments back in my face, as she stands before a shelf of tinctures. Or, at least, that’s how my bitter mind translates her words. “He was one of them at Calico, right?”
“He wasn’t one of them, at all. And he wasn’t my real father. He took me in and raised me as his own. Against their rules, against their beliefs, against everything.”
“What happened to him?”
“He was bitten while trying to save me.” Striding up beside her, I gather a few of the tinctures, packing them in a nearby satchel, in case Heseya finds them useful. “He managed to keep the illness at bay, but it eventually consumed him. So he took his own life.” Even after all this time, I have to blink away the urge of tears and breathe past the ache in my chest. “He used to tell me that safety was nothing but an illusion.”
“He’s right. I thought I’d found it with Valdys out there. Paradise, we were certain of it. There is no paradise in hell, though.”
For a young girl, I find her to be wiser than most her age. As if she’s lived through more. But then, the young girls I grew up with came from this place, blinded by falsehoods.
“Your father saved you at the juniper tree, right? That’s where they say you were attacked by Ragers.”
I mentally rewind myself to the night when Papa injected me with the Alpha pheromones to keep the Ragers away. It worked, up until its effects wore off. “He did.” It’s also where I watched them feed on the remains of the baby I lost there. “Guards will be here any minute. We need to find supplies now and store them for later this evening.”
“How will you get past the guards without them seeing you?”
The question brings a smile to my face. “It’s been a while since I’ve snuck out of this house, but I’ve certainly not forgotten how.”
Chapter 16
Cali
The sweet taste of fig dances across my tongue as I lick what remains of the jam from my spoon. “It’s been so long since I’ve tasted figs. I’ve forgotten how delicious they are!”
“I must’ve prepared a dozen jars, the summer before Papa died.” Wren sits a glass of water on the table, but instead of returning to the open cupboard, from where she’d been packing jars into a bag, she opts for the two mugs below it, placing two filters filled with dried coffee over the mouths of them. Nothing like the crap we got back at Calico. This stuff smells fresh, rich, and waters my mouth. She holds an eyedropper over the grounds and allows a few drops to fall into each, before pouring the steaming water she boiled earlier over it.
Outside the house, the voices of the Legion officers can be heard laughing and talking, as they half-heartedly stand guard.
“They almost sound kind, don’t they?” I ask, trading my spoon for the glass of proffered water.
“Almost. I’ve never met one I’d describe as such, though.”
“Me, neither.” I jerk my head toward the mugs. “What is it?”
“Something that will make them sleep a while. Derived from poppies. Papa would give this before some emergency surgical procedures. They’ll awake thinking they fell asleep on the job.”
