“You being like me would be like the sun wishing it was the moon. That’s not good for anybody.”
Lucy looked away from Lynn, guilt flooding her even though she knew Lynn was right. Lucy had never had to kill, because Lynn kept her safe. She’d often wondered how much of the hardness around Lynn’s heart was from her uncle Eli’s death, and how much of it from self-inflicted scars. Lynn would do anything for her, leave behind the home she’d killed for in order to give Lucy a better type of life.
Even so, Lucy couldn’t help but search the trees in the flickering firelight for any sign of Carter, as if her past were slipping, ghost-like, through the forest. The hope for something better had settled into her, firing desires Lucy didn’t know she harbored. The peace of her childhood with Lynn, the warmth of the home, the sanctity of the pond, seemed restrictive now that she’d been out in the world, even for a short while.
So many times she’d snuck out her window into the night, the cold air filling her lungs and the drop to the ground rushing her blood along. Adventures had always called to her as a child, but she’d been hand in hand with Maddy and Carter then, life a waiting surprise and the promise of safety always taking the danger out of their pranks. Now Maddy was dead, Carter missing, and the intense way Lynn checked and rechecked her rifle reminded Lucy that safety was not a given.
Nine
Lynn could usually move in perfect silence, so the rustle of her return woke Lucy from her sleep. She rolled over.
“S’wrong?” The coals of the fire gave enough light for her to see Lynn jump at the sound of her voice.
“Thought I heard a coyote out there, but it was nothing. Go back to sleep,” Lynn said brusquely.
Lucy burrowed deeper into her blanket in search of the pocket of warmth she’d left behind. She was drifting back into sleep when a stranger’s voice cut through the night, sending her blood coursing through her veins.
“Hello, the camp!” a woman’s voice cried out, and Lynn shot to her feet, knife in her hands.
Lucy scrambled in the shadows for her gun. She found it nestled by her side, the barrel of the rifle warm from her body.
“I hear you,” Lynn said into the dark, eyes darting through the night. “What d’you want?”
“Set by your fire is all,” the woman said, her voice seeming to come from a different direction this time. Lucy shifted her gun.
“You alone?” Lynn called.
“Just a woman alone, same as you all,” came the answer.
“Come on in then,” Lynn said, hand still gripping the knife. “But come slow.”
A few seconds passed. Lucy could feel sweat beading on her temples even in the cool of the night. She strained her ears for any noise but heard nothing. When she looked to Lynn with a raised eyebrow, the older woman only shook her head. She didn’t know which direction to look either.
Lucy turned her head toward the lake and spotted the woman leaning nonchalantly against a tree.
“Lynn,” Lucy said tightly, and nodded toward the woman, who uncrossed her arms and held her empty hands out in front of her once she knew she’d been seen.
“I see you there,” Lynn said. “No need to play games.”
The woman shrugged, hands still in the air. “You said come slow.”
“I didn’t say come silent,” Lynn said, but motioned her on into the camp. Even watching her, Lucy was hard-pressed to hear her movements as the woman walked into the meager light of the coals, her face a calm mask.
The woman was older than her voice. Deep-set lines etched her brow and dug a furrow between her eyes. There were matching streaks of gray running from both temples in her brown hair. Lucy looked her over, fascinated by a new face from the older generation, someone who had known life before the Shortage. Unlike Vera, there were no laugh lines around her eyes.
The woman studied them back, in the moments they had to inspect one another as the fire flickered to life under Lynn’s ministrations. Lucy felt the woman’s eyes running over her. She dropped her own gaze and felt a flush spread over her cheeks at the close scrutiny. At home they had all known one another so well, no one was ever a particularly interesting sight.
“I’m Jossica,” the woman said abruptly, breaking the silence that had fallen. “But my people called me Joss.”
“Where’s your people?” Lynn asked in a tone that made it clear she was hoping Joss would return to them somewhat quickly.
“They were run off,” Joss said. “We made camp on the other shore, night before this. You probably saw the fire.”
“We saw two fires last night,” Lucy said. “We thought all the people had left.”
“All but one.”
“They leave you behind for a reason?” Lynn asked, and Joss glanced up at her.
“You can have a seat, and I wouldn’t mind if you put that knife down either. You look like you know how to use it.”