Glitter + Ashes Read online

  “Yes,” Tamika said, her voice bright. Alice turned to give her an angry stare.

  “No,” Alice said. Then in a harsh whisper, “We can’t bring her home, Tamika.”

  “Why not?” Tamika said at full volume. “If she cooks for us, we don’t have to open the cans, and the food lasts longer.”

  “But—”

  Tamika stepped past her. Alice stared, dumbstruck, as Tamika squared her shoulders and looked Sara in the eye.

  “Follow me,” Tamika said, and then started to walk down the street. Sara glanced between the two of them for a moment before following. For a moment, Alice stood rooted to the spot, then gritted her teeth and followed.

  They made their way back to their hideout. It was a low, sturdy structure that had so far escaped destruction by Marauders. Old desks and wooden chairs had been pushed against the walls, obscuring broken windows. Two more children sat in the center of the space—one a few years Tamika’s junior, and the other even younger. The older one, Jamal, stood and turned as they approached. He gave a wide grin at their return, but his face fell into fear upon seeing Sara. Eve turned to look at them too, but seemed to quickly decide that the newcomer wasn’t as interesting as her scavenged toys.

  Sara regarded their sparse living conditions. The light was starting to fade around them, and shadows lengthened in the little space. After a few moments of silent appraisal, Sara crouched down and opened her pack. She produced a small plastic box from it. “Is there wood I could use for the fire?”

  Alice started to protest, but Tamika had already scurried toward the piles of broken chairs. She returned with an armful of splintery wood and a broad smile. Alice scowled at Sara, and her contempt for her only grew as the woman worked at the fire.

  By the time it was lit, all the children had gathered around her. Sara set a pan atop the low fire and filled it with water, then produced a can and a plastic bag from her pack. She cracked open the can and dumped the contents into the water, fishing pieces of jerky out of the bag to toss in with it.

  The smell of salted broth and peppery meat filled the air. Alice’s mouth began to water despite herself. As she folded her arms across her chest, Jamal turned to her.

  “Did you go to the place I found?”

  “Sure did,” Alice said. She tried to give him a smile, but it came out tight and forced. “We found three whole cans.”

  Jamal’s jaw dropped, and his eyes almost popped out of his skull. “Three?” he said, and Alice winced at the volume of his exclamation. “Can we store some for the Valley?”

  Sara cocked an eyebrow at him. “Valley?”

  Alice’s stomach dropped as Jamal nodded and said, “The Valley of Mothers.”

  “What’s that?” Sara said.

  Tamika sent Alice a wary glance. Alice fumed. It was bad enough that she had told them the stupid rumor, or that Tamika used it like a fairy tale, without them blabbing about it to strangers. It chafed her to think that something so simple as soup was enough to make them trust Sara, and that in trusting her they were eschewing all the careful lessons Alice had taught them over the years.

  “It’s where they all went after the Dust Trail,” Jamal said, his smile wide. “And they care for every kid that comes to them.” He paused. “We want to go there so we don’t have to be hungry, or cold, or lonely anymore.”

  “You’re not lonely,” Alice cut in.

  “It’s not the same,” Jamal said.

  Anger rose in Alice’s chest and tears prick at her eyes. It surprised her how badly Jamal’s flippant comment stung her.

  “That sounds…” Sara bit her lower lip. “Lovely.” She glanced down at the steaming little pot. “The soup’s ready. Who wants some?”

  The food distracted the other children. They had no spoons, so they had to slurp the soup from the little mugs that Sara served it in. The broth was bright yellow, and dark chunks of meat floated in it. Even as she resented it, Alice felt the food’s warmth and substance suffuse her body in a way that she had almost forgotten was possible.

  She shot Sara venomous looks as the others directed questions to her that they usually would have reserved for Alice. Worse, Sara indulged the most foolish of them, egging Jamal on to tell her more of the Valley of Mothers. Alice felt a combination of fear and fury in her chest each time one of the children revealed something more about their habits with a careless question. More than once, she sought out Tamika’s comforting gaze, some assurance that she too could see the danger—but Tamika was just as enraptured by Sara as the rest of them. When Eve sheepishly walked up to Sara with a colorful book clutched to her chest and held it out for her to read it to them, Alice stood in a huff and stormed out of the building.

  The night air was cold, but she didn’t care. She stalked across the battered street and climbed onto a pile of rubble. She looked back at the light flickering through the broken windows of their hideout and hugged her legs to her chest.

  After a few minutes Tamika came out, her brow creased in concern. She crossed the street and sat next to Alice. “Are you okay?”

  “They’re going to want a fire every night now,” Alice said.

  “What?”

  “The kids!” Alice said. “They won’t understand that we can’t make fires every night.”

  Tamika held Alice’s furious gaze. She reached out and pried Alice’s flexing fingers apart, then threaded her own between them.

  “They’re smarter than you think,” Tamika said. “They’ll understand.”

  “They won’t,” Alice said. “You know how Jamal is. He gets stuck on ideas. He’s still convinced the stupid Valley exists.”

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  “He thinks we’re going,” Alice said.

  Silence hung in the air for a moment. “Would that be so bad?” Tamika asked.

  Alice narrowed her eyes at her. “The Valley isn’t real, Tamika. You know that. We’re safe here.” She looked back at the hideout, at the little pricks of firelight peeking out from the cracked walls. “Or we were, at least.”

  Tamika didn’t respond, so they sat in silence. While they did, Alice stole a glance at her. Tamika made her feel safe, even when she knew she wasn’t. Alice wasn’t sure why her gaze drifted to the sharp edge of Tamika’s jaw, or why she marveled at the way her dark eyes glinted in the moonlight. Alice felt a desperate desire for someplace more gentle, where they were not trapped in a daily struggle for survival. A deep longing blossomed in her chest for a world, a time, a life that had been stolen from her.

  Alice scooted closer and leaned her head against Tamika’s shoulder. Tamika pressed her cheek to Alice’s head.

  Sara emerged from the hideout, a frown of concern on her face. After a moment, she spotted the two girls and strode towards them.

  “Are you two okay?” Sara asked. “The others were worried.”

  Alice gave a rueful laugh. “I’m surprised they even noticed.” Tamika shrugged her head away from her shoulder. Alice felt a flash of hurt, but Tamika’s hand still stayed in hers. “What do you want?”

  “Just to talk,” Sara said.

  Alice bristled. “About what?”

  “This place isn’t safe for you,” Sara said. “You don’t know how to grow food, so you have to scavenge from old buildings. And you have to compete with Marauders even for just that.”

  “We’ve done okay so far,” Alice said, acid in her voice.

  “Maybe,” Sara said. Alice felt a glimmer of satisfaction at the edge of anger that rose into Sara’s voice. “But you can’t stay here.”

  “Yes, we can,” Alice said. Her gaze slipped from Sara’s face, toward the dusty road that led toward the edge of town.

  “It’s been getting harder and harder to find food,” Tamika said, her voice quiet. “We need to find a better place, Alice.”

  Alice turned a look of shocked betrayal on Tamika. Their hands slipped apart.

  “Where?” Alice asked. “There are Marauders everywhere, not just here. And ev
en if we could get past them, where would we go? The Valley?” She laughed, but there was no mirth in the sound. “It’s a myth. We’d die trying to find it.”

  “It’s not,” Sara said, her voice almost timid.

  Alice’s breath fell away from her. Next to her, Tamika could manage only a stunned, “What?”

  “I know where the Valley of Mothers is,” Sara said, her words more measured.

  “Liar,” Alice said.

  “I do,” Sara said. “It’s a town. We call it Sappho.”

  Tamika’s eyes widened. “You’re…a mother?”

  “No,” Sara said. “That part’s not quite right.” She sighed. “I came up the Dust Trail with a group of women. We’d all faced hardship, and had found strength in each other along the Trail. We decided, while we traveled, that we needed a place to call our own. We’d never had a place where we could be totally free to be ourselves. We decided to build a place where we wouldn’t have to hide who or how we loved. So, we found a river that wasn’t choked with dust and made a go of it.”

  “That’s not the Valley,” Alice said, folding her arms to her chest.

  “No,” Sara said. “We never meant to be a sanctuary. We just wanted a place that was ours. Not many people settle this far south, but plenty left children behind, to lighten their loads.” A tear streaked her dusty cheek. “We couldn’t just leave children to die.”

  The three of them sat in silence for a few moments as Sara’s words hung in the air.

  “Why are you telling us this?” Tamika asked.

  “I want to take you there,” Sara said.

  Alice reeled. Before she could form words, Tamika was asking another question.

  “Can Jamal come?”

  Sara seemed surprised by the question. “Of course,” she said. “Why?”

  “You said it’s all girls,” Tamika said.

  “Oh,” Sara said with a small laugh. “Our group just happened to only have women when we settled, Tamika. Jamal is welcome to make his home there, just like the other young boys who live in Sappho. He could stay the rest of his life, if he wanted.” She paused. “You all could.”

  “No,” Alice said, her voice small and shaky.

  “What?” Tamika said, turning an incredulous face on her. “Alice, we can’t stay here. Sara’s right, it isn’t safe.”

  “So we’re supposed to trust some stranger?” Alice said, her voice rising to a yell. “Just because she made us some soup?”

  Tamika’s jaw set. “There’s no more food here, Alice! Sara has food, and can bring us to a place with more of it. For Eve’s and Jamal’s sakes, we have to go with her.”

  Alice scowled, blinking back tears at Tamika’s betrayal. She opened her mouth to shout at her, when a calloused hand landed atop hers. She flinched away from Sara’s touch.

  “You can think about it,” Sara said. “It’ll take me some time to get ready to leave. Talk to the other children. I’ll come back tomorrow afternoon.”

  Alice shook her head. “We can’t leave,” she said.

  “Think about it,” Sara said, then turned her gaze to Tamika. “Both of you.” Then she stood, gave them a weak smile, and jogged off down the street.

  “Alice,” Tamika said, her voice soft. Alice felt the questioning brush of Tamika’s fingers and snatched her hand away.

  “What?” she snapped, her anger bubbling over. Tamika flinched.

  “We’re going with her,” Tamika said.

  “We’re not,” Alice said.

  Tamika’s lip quivered. Tears began to spill down her cheeks, and she shook her head.

  “You don’t have to,” Tamika said, her voice shaking. “But we do.”

  “You can’t go without me,” Alice said. She hated the childish quiver that invaded the words.

  “I don’t want to,” Tamika said.

  Tamika reached out again to try and touch her, and Alice flinched away. She saw hurt flash in Tamika’s eyes.

  “I’ll go tell the kids,” Tamika said. Then she turned away and started to walk toward the hideout.

  “Tamika!” Alice said, blinking away hot tears. “Stop!” she shouted, but within moments Tamika had disappeared inside of the hideout. Alice scowled, and marched to follow her.

  She entered just in time to hear Jamal excitedly shout, “We’re going to the Valley?”

  The exclamation sparked Alice’s anger into a blaze of rage. She surged into the room, face contorted and stomach boiling with fury.

  “We are not!” she said. All eyes turned to her. The stricken looks on Jamal and Eve’s faces sent a pang of sadness through her, but it wasn’t enough to derail her anger. “We are not following some stranger into the wastelands to get killed by Marauders!”

  “But Sara’s not a stranger,” Jamal said, his voice approaching a distressed shriek. “She gave us…”

  Jamal trailed off as Tamika’s hand landed on his shoulder. Her face was a mask of cold determination that Alice had never seen before. Tamika marched across the room until she stood an arm’s length away from Alice, then crossed her arms in front of her chest.

  “Sara can help us,” she said. “We’re going with her.”

  “Help us?” Alice barked. “She’s going to get us killed, if she doesn’t just do it herself.”

  “She is not,” Tamika said.

  “You can’t know that,” Alice said. “You can’t know what she plans to do with us.”

  “She plans to help us!” Tamika shouted. Alice recoiled—Tamika never yelled. “And we deserve that! We deserve a life that’s easier than this! Most days we can’t even find food, and all we do when we aren’t looking for it is huddle here and hide from Marauders. Are you going to let your pride get in the way of the first person who’s ever offered to help us?” Tamika’s voice shook. “Because I’m not. I can’t stay here and watch the people I love starve.”

  “I don’t want to lose you!” Alice shrieked, her voice breaking. Tears ran in hot streaks down her face as she drew in a ragged, desperate breath. “I don’t want to lose any of you. If we follow that woman I...I might not be able to protect you.” Alice’s anger drained from her body and left her feeling hollow. She stared, desolate, at Tamika. “Please,” she said. “I can’t lose you.”

  Tamika’s anger broke, a scattering of tears falling down her softening face. She reached out and took Alice’s hand. Drained as she was, Alice was surprised by the electric jolt Tamika’s touch sent through her body. She thought of the fleeting glimpses she’d gotten over the years of something that could have been hers, if not for the harsh realities of her life. She thought of Tamika’s eyes, her touch, the smell of her hair. Alice released a heavy breath as Tamika stepped in closer to her.

  “You won’t lose us,” Tamika said. Her other hand came to cradle Alice’s cheek. Before she knew what she was doing, Alice leaned the weight of her head into Tamika’s hand. Safety and comfort flooded her as Tamika’s thumb pressed against the corner of Alice’s mouth.

  “Alice,” Tamika said. Alice looked up into Tamika’s dark, beautiful eyes. “We need something...gentler than this. We all deserve so much more kindness than the world has given us.” She paused. “You see that, right?”

  Her gaze slipped away from Tamika’s to settle on Eve and Jamal. She felt like she was seeing them for the first time—their cracked lips, their gaunt faces, the stark lines of their collarbones. The terrifying realization that she couldn’t protect them, even here, settled on her shoulders.

  “I’m scared,” Alice whispered, not wanting Eve or Jamal to hear.

  “I know,” Tamika said. “I am too. But we can do this. Together.”

  Alice nodded into Tamika’s palm. “I’m sorry,” she said, this time loud enough for Eve and Jamal to hear. Jamal took a tentative step forward.

  “So,” he said. “Are we going to the Valley of Mothers?”

  Alice offered him a shaky smile. “Yes,” she said. “We are.”

  This time, Jamal’s whoop of excitement sent a s
urge of joy through her heart. Alice smiled as Eve and Jamal whirled around to gather up their scant belongings.

  Tamika touched her forehead to Alice’s, and wiped away Alice’s tears with her thumb. Then her arms wrapped around Alice and drew her into a hug. Alice returned it, squeezing hard and burrowing her face into Tamika’s neck.

  The thought of leaving the safety of their home still scared Alice. She could not convince herself that Sappho would be the perfect, gentle life that she hoped it would be, but she’d be striving for something new, something better. And she’d be doing it alongside her family, alongside Tamika. That would be enough.

  Tamika squeezed Alice tighter. “Want to help Eve pack her toys?” she said into Alice’s shoulder.

  Alice smiled into Tamika’s neck. “Of course,” she said.

  In the labyrinth outside the settlement, you find your name.

  M didn’t tell you what would happen when you got here. She said that it was a part of finding your way, that everyone passed through the labyrinth before coming into the created safety of the land they’d claimed. It didn’t mean much of anything, she promised, it was just a formality.

  You didn’t believe her then, and now that you’ve passed through, seen what waited in the dark for you, it’s clear how much she was holding back. It isn’t just a silly ritual, an initiation to keep out those who might disrupt the balance the collective had established. It’s a blessing and a claiming and an honoring.

  Before you can take your first steps into the waiting tunnels, M moves to your side and presses a kiss to your cheek.

  “Keep your head up,” she says, “and don’t be scared. We’ve survived so much. You just have to remember how to keep your feet moving.”

  You nod, smiling at her. M makes your hands shake a little, your heart ache with want, with hope, with the excitement of someone showing confidence in you. In the world that was, people having faith in you, thinking you were capable and strong and powerful, was a dream. No one knew what you could do, how well you were equipped to survive.

  Of course, most people are dead now, while somehow, you’re still here.

  It’s funny in a way. In the firelight, against the shadows and dark sky, you find yourself feeling like the world never crumbled at all. You feel like you’re only just waking up.