Page 2 of Dustwalker

The return trip wasn’t long, but heat and hunger slowed Lara’s pace. The flattened ruins left her exposed to the wind and the biting dust it carried. She kept her head down and adjusted the cloth over her face. She’d be picking grit out of the most uncomfortable places for days.

As she reached the outskirts of town, the dirt, scrub grass, andrubble gave way to small, rickety buildings that creaked in the wind. Some of the structures had been standing for longer than anyone could remember, repaired using whatever scraps had been available as the years passed. It wasn’t uncommon for a few of the shacks to fall apart whenever a dust storm blew through, but the inhabitants just gathered the pieces and rebuilt.

The shacks became more numerous as she walked. With the more densely packed buildings came the stench—refuse and human waste, so potent she considered turning around and heading into the Dust every time it hit her. She followed one of the northward roads, which was little more than a narrow patch of cracked, hard-packed dirt. It would become ankle-deep mud within minutes of the first rain.

To the west, the sun plummeted toward the horizon. The people she passed were finishing up their daily business. Best to be indoors before nightfall. The cold was one thing, but no one wanted to be caught outside by a bored, prowling gearhead.

She saw the marks painted on a few of the shacks—a round gear fashioned to look like a skull. Warlord’s symbol. On bots, it meant they were in his service; on a human’s home, it meant they’d broken the rules. The first offense didn’t usually result in death, but the places with his mark were often dark and quiet.

Lara dug her fingers into her bag, clutching it tighter. That symbol never failed to make her skin crawl.

When Gary and Kate’s shack came into view, she hurried toward it, cradling her bag like it was the most precious thing in the world. After glancing up and down the street, she knocked on their door.

“Who is it?” The muffled voice belonged to Gary.

“It’s Lara,” she replied, pulling the cloth down from her face.

The door shifted back slightly and slid to the side. Gary stood in the opening, a tall, thin man whose head nearly touched the top of the doorway. He wore a pair of tattered jeans and a sweat stained, threadbare shirt. He couldn’t have been much older than thirty, but years of hardship and scavenging in Cheyenne’s unforgiving weather had aged him and left his skin tanned and leathery. Despite the harsh lines on his face and his thick beard, he had kind blue eyes.

“Everything all right?” he asked.

“You won’t believe what I found.” Lara opened her bag and pulled out the pitcher.

“Lara, wait?—”

“It would be perfect for you and Kate, and little Maggie.”

“Lara, we need to talk?—”

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Lara removed the cloth and held the pitcher out to him. “Have you ever seen anything like it?”

She chewed her lower lip anxiously while Gary stared at the pitcher, her arms aching as seconds passed. Surely it was worth more than a thin strip of dried meat or a single vegetable.

Finally, Gary raised his gaze to hers, guilt and pity clear in his furrowed brow. Lara’s stomach sank.

“You could hold a day’s worth of water in this.” She turned the pitcher to display the inside. “Or…or food. You could keep?—”

“Lara, we can’t trade anymore.”

Silenced by disbelief, she lowered her arms. He must’ve misspoken, or…or maybe she’d misheard him? Gary and Kate had helped Lara without hesitation during Tabitha’s absence. It wasn’t much, but they’d kept her going. Kept her out of the market. She traded with other people, but no one was as reliable, honest or generous as these two.

“What did you say?” she asked, drawing the pitcher to her chest.

Gary ran a hand through his short brown hair with a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry, Lara. We’re sorry. But with Maggie getting bigger, we’ve got less and less to spare.”

“Gary, please. Just…just think about it.” She rose on the toes of her boots to peer over his shoulder. “Can I talk to Kate?”

“No. Maggie’s sleeping right now. Please, don’t make this any harder. We want to help you, we really do, but we have to consider our chi?—”

Lara shoved past him. He stumbled aside, stammering as she entered the small living space. She hated intruding like this, knew it was wrong, but the twisting, sinking feeling in her gut had her on the verge of panic.

“Kate, please, don’t?—”

Lara stilled. Kate stood at the back of the shack with a worn, faded dress hanging from her tiny frame. Her brown eyes were wide as she stared at Lara, and she held her arms over her rounded stomach as though to hide it.

“Kate…” Lara breathed.

Everyone knew the rule—one child per human couple.