see where this went? To maybe enjoy it a little?
A glimpse of orange caught her eye, off on the side of the road where the asphalt was broken and kaysev had taken root. There-growing practically sideways under the gray chunks and clods-was a California poppy. Its wiry stalk and fringy leaves strained to poke through to the air, and it held one tightly rolled bud and one fragile bloom, a tiny spot of brilliant tangerine that wavered and trembled in the breeze.
No one else seemed to take note. Cass pushed the stroller, fast, murmuring, “Oh, Ruthie, Babygirl, you’re not going to believe-do you remember-”
But Ruthie was dozing, lulled by the afternoon sun and the rhythm of the big rubber wheels on the pavement, and it was Cass alone who stroked the tender petals, caught a breath to see that there were others, small and stunted seedlings close to this first one. She thought about calling to someone- Zihna, Sammi, her dad-but they were hidden in the depths of the ragtag group making its slow and stolid way along the road, and her moment of ebullience would not withstand their indifference. Better this way, keeping the bloom to herself, remarking on the poppy’s return with the joy of one who’d loved them, Before.
The poppy was a challenge to cultivate. Seeds often failed, even under the best of conditions. Transplanted seedlings nearly always died. But wherever the native plant rooted on its own, it was tough and wily. It could grow in the smallest crack, the meanest soil; it was not daunted by weeds or sought by predators. Up close, it was indelicate, even coarsely figured, its leaves stubby and its stem workmanlike. But from a distance there was nothing like that glorious shot of pure color.
Cass smiled, wondering what it was about this particular spot, this homely stretch of road in the midst of dead fields, that inspired the poppy to grow here. It was not for her to know-but perhaps it was no mistake that she was the one who noticed it.
She didn’t pick the flower. Let it go to seed; let the seed scatter and find its way across the healing land. For now it would remain her secret.
By late afternoon, the rain began. People were tired from walking, tempers were thin and fears had resurfaced, and they spent a cold and uncomfortable night at a stable, sleeping on the malodorous straw in the stalls. The next day dawned clear and brilliant, water sparkling on the kaysev leaves, and spirits were restored. Near evening they disturbed a clump of Beaters sunbathing on the turf of a mini golf course in front of an RV campground. The things rushed out, hollering, but John and Glynnis, riding sentry with Nathan in the hybrid at the front of the crowd, picked them off easily.
The campground would have made decent shelter, with its large bathhouse, but everyone was too skittish from the Beaters-and who knew if there weren’t more Beaters that belonged to this particular nest-so they went a couple more miles and sheltered in a trucker rest stop.
Smoke continued to keep his distance. He was polite to Cass, solicitous of Ruthie, but he was dividing his energy between pushing his body to catch up from its forced inactivity, and conferring with the new council.
Each night he slept elsewhere, bunking down with those closest to the doors, the guards and the raiders.
“Zihna, is he crazy?” Cass asked, as they walked along in a steady drizzle on the fourth day. Everyone was miserable, their clothes soaked. People were beginning to sniffle and cough, and it seemed like a spring cold was starting to spread through the group. Sun-hi was riding with Jasmine, who had started her labor that morning. It looked like her baby was going to be born in a moving car.
Zihna narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. She was taking her turn, at her insistence, pulling the trailer. Ruthie and Twyla were playing with a bowl full of pebbles that they had collected from a landscaping bed at the rest stop, protected from the rain by a pop-up play tent that Ingrid had brought, chattering and laughing.
“I don’t think he’s crazy,” she said. “I think he hasn’t been entirely truthful.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you know I’m not a doctor, but these last few weeks I couldn’t figure out why he was gaining his strength back so quickly, and now it makes sense, he was awake. He was pretending during the day. It makes me want to kick myself, ’course, since I could have saved him a lot of trouble by just talking to him. And you know I’ve talked to plenty of patients that didn’t talk back. Only with Smoke, it had been so long, and it was like…well, nobody was coming around to see him anymore.”
“I know. It’s my fault.”
“It’s no one’s fault. I’m just saying he started to seem like, I don’t know. We were always so busy, and we had Omar’s burns, Crystal with the staph infection, Charles…we all just started treating him like an object. A… houseplant. And the whole time he was, you know, coming back to life. Well, look at the man, I’ve never seen that kind of determination.”
Smoke walked a dozen yards ahead. He’d set his cane aside today; it was resting on the trailer, a long tree branch trimmed and sanded for him by Steve the first day of the journey.
“That’s Smoke-determined,” Cass said softly. She could give a thousand examples of her own: how he’d scavenged lumber in the Box until he could build her a bed frame, how he’d stayed up with Ruthie two nights straight when she had strep throat, how he’d killed a man who’d just saved his life but been bitten in a Beater attack.
How he’d gone hunting the Rebuilders, alone, outnumbered, outmatched, hungry for justice and willing to sacrifice everything he cared about to get it.
“How quickly do you think he could get back-I mean, I know he’ll never be exactly like he was before, but, you know, back to himself?”
“Hard to say. When he really was unconscious, his body was focused entirely on mending. First order of business was to fight off the infection he had when he got here. Rebreaking his arm set him back, but Sun-hi was right, it was the right thing to do. The limp, he’s gonna have that for a while. Maybe forever. Everything else-well, he’s doing exactly what we’d tell him to do. Work on those muscles, rebuild. Kaysev’s probably perfect fuel for him. He’s doing everything right, darlin’.”
“He just seems so…spent, at the end of the day.”
“Well, you would be too, with a regimen like that. Bet every muscle in his body is screaming.” She smiled slyly. “Or are you really asking me something else? Like…how soon he can expect to be sexually active?”
“Zihna!” Cass reddened. In fact, that hadn’t been what she was asking-and then she wondered why not, why she hadn’t been stirred by him the way she used to be, in the Box.
“Because let me tell you I’ve seen every inch of that man, and I didn’t see any evidence of injuries that would prevent a full recovery. Heck, probably be good for him.”
“Stop it, I didn’t-”
“Oh, come on, it’s just us. And it’s perfectly natural. Where do you think me and your dad get our robust good health?”
“Oh, Zihna, you do not need to be telling me that. I’m barely used to the idea that he’s my dad-I don’t think I want to know anything about his…about his…eww.”
Zihna turned serious. “Honey, I know what you’re saying, it’s different when someone’s your parent. But you might want to keep that in mind when you’re dealing with Sammi.”
“Sammi-what does she-”
“Just, your relationship with her is important-she needs other adult women in her life, not just me. And the quality of that relationship is going to be dependent on how you and her dad are getting along. Or, to be more specific, the state of things between you two…romantically.”
“Zihna…” Cass said softly. “Do you, um, I would hate it if you thought, I mean, things have been so weird with everything and I’ve done things I shouldn’t, I know-”
“I don’t think badly of you,” Zihna said cheerfully, squeezing Cass’s hand. “If that’s one of your worries. You make your own choices and as your friend my only hope is that you learn from the wrong ones and enjoy the right ones. And while we’re talking like this, I am very glad you’re going to quit drinking. I hope you don’t mind that your dad and I talked about it.”
Cass blanched, and for a moment she did mind, she minded a lot. And then the anger subsided and Cass saw it for what it was-the desperation of the addiction trying to maintain its hold on her.
She’d been here before. And she knew what she had to do.
“I’m glad you and he talk,” she said as evenly as she could.
