the water maps, to find somewhere for us to go. Then he’d come home and draw it out as best he could, and Uncle Eli would watch. They memorized them, then burned them up.”
“You said your dad saw me?”
There was another reluctant silence. Lynn opened up the door to the stove and threw some wood on the glowing coals. Lucy’s wet face gleamed in the firelight.
“We were supposed to take your house.”
“Excuse me?”
“Daddy said it was a good place.”
“It is a good place,” Lynn said stiffly. “It’s also mine.”
“He didn’t know you were here,” Lucy said, her face scrunching up to cry again. “Daddy didn’t know there were people here.”
“Okay, okay, I’m sorry.” Lynn crawled back onto the cot with Lucy, and cradled her head once more. “So why didn’t you?”
“We got caught. Daddy got killed, then me and Mommy and Eli got kicked out. Uncle Eli followed the map in his head but when he saw there was someone living at your house, he said he was too weak to take it by farce —”
“Force.”
“Yeah, force. And Mommy just sat down and wouldn’t go anymore.”
Lynn stroked Lucy’s hair and thought for a moment. “Did your grandma see these maps that your dad and Eli memorized?”
“Yeah, she learned them too.”
“It’s possible then, she could find us.”
“You think so?”
“Don’t get your hopes up too far, kid, but maybe.”
Lucy’s eyes were fluttering down toward sleep when Lynn asked her last question. “You said your grandma could fix Stebbs’ foot, and maybe your mother too. What did you mean? What’s wrong with Neva?”
“I don’t know,” Lucy answered slowly. “But when we got arrested, me and Mommy and Daddy, we were sitting in jail and some of the soldiers came and took her away. When they brought her back she looked okay but she was walking funny, like they hurt her somehow. Then she just curled up like I am now and wouldn’t talk to me or Daddy.”
Lucy looked at the fire while she talked, and the flames illuminated her fresh tears. “Mommy would have days like that, before the jail, even. Sometimes she would just say it was a ‘bad day’ and she would have to lie down or not get out of bed at all. Daddy tried to make it a ‘good day,’ but usually Grandma was the only one that could help. It was worse after the soldiers came to the jail. I think maybe whatever those men did to her it’s still hurting. Maybe Grandma can make it better?”
Lynn tightened her grip on the frail little body. “I don’t know, kiddo. Maybe.”
A week later, snow fell. And continued to fall. Lynn sent Lucy indoors once visibility had reached zero. The girl could easily become disoriented in the blinding white snowfall and wander to a lonely death in the snow. Lynn climbed down from the roof moments after sending her inside. She could see nothing. If anyone were stupid enough to wander out in a snowstorm to attack her, she could shoot them just as easily coming down the basement stairs. Easier, even.
They spent two days indoors, with Lucy mocking the reading selection, and Lynn pumping her for more information about Entargo. Once the conversation steered in the direction of Neva’s mom though, Lynn became less enthusiastic. A lone woman wandering in the blizzard wouldn’t make it far, especially a city dweller. She kept the harsh thoughts to herself and tried to distract Lucy by pulling out a tin of cocoa, something that had been reserved for Christmas when Mother was alive.
On the third day, Lynn ventured back onto the roof, and spied the meandering black snake of a trail that Stebbs was making as he lurched toward the house. She hailed him, and Lucy ran out to meet him, her own progress hampered by the snow that nearly reached her thighs. She fell flat on her face twice before she reached Stebbs, but resolutely got up and pounded her way through the drifts. Even though Lynn knew it cost him, he swung Lucy up and onto his shoulders.
He warmed himself by the fire and gave Lucy a present he’d made during his own time indoors; a wooden flute that he’d whittled. She began tooting it immediately and stomping around the basement in a chaotic parody of a parade.
“Thanks for that,” Lynn said drily.
“At least now we don’t have to walk outside to have a conversation,” he said over the din.
Lynn’s eyes narrowed. “What’s up?”
“I want you to go over to check on Eli and Neva. My foot won’t hold up to the trip, so I thought I’d stay here and watch over things for you.”
Lynn tried to ignore the little skip in her heartbeat. “Something wrong?”
“I don’t think so, no. But it’s their first real blizzard so it wouldn’t hurt to check.”
Bleak winters could drive even the most seasoned country dwellers to the brink. Mother had told her of a married couple who’d survived the violence immediately following the Shortage, only to have the wife go after her husband with a hatchet during the winter that followed. Being shut indoors could do funny things to people, Mother had said.
“I can do that,” Lynn said carefully, certain there was more.
Stebbs unshouldered his backpack. “Take ’em this. It’s got vegetables enough to get them through for a little while. Bring the pack back, and we’ll stock ’em up again in a bit.”
“And what are they giving you in return?”
“They’ve got nothing to give.”
Lynn took the pack reluctantly. “I don’t like you just giving them things. When does it stop?”
“When they’re able to look after themselves.”
“And when will that be, with you always treating them like they’re babies fresh out of their mothers?”
Stebbs gave Lynn a hard look. “I know you’re just saying what you think your mother would’ve wanted. Seems to me you’re starting to grow a heart on your own, but every now and then you think of her and it kills it dead like the frost to a seedling. You weren’t taught any different, but it used to be that people helped each other.”
“Used to be a lot of things different.”
“But people are still the same,” Stebbs said, an edge on his voice that usually wasn’t there. “And all everyone is trying to do is survive.”
“That’s what I’m doing.”
“You’re not exactly in bad shape, kiddo. Those poor bastards your mom blew away over the years? They was just trying to get a drink, to get by one more day. Shit, one time the widow of this fella came back to my place, out of her head ’cause she saw one of your mom’s bullets peel off part of her husband’s skull. Died the next day, she did, and I’m not so sure it wasn’t the shock that killed her.”
Lynn fiddled with the strap on the bag he’d handed her. “When was this?”
“Seven years or so back.”
“That wasn’t necessarily Mother that shot him. That might have been me.”
“Jesus.” Stebbs put his head in his hands and left it there. “You woulda been just a kid.”
Lynn glanced over to where Lucy was playing the flute, happily plugging different holes to change the notes. “Killing people was easier when the only face I ever saw was Mother’s. Back then, anyone else was the enemy and shooting at an outline in a scope wasn’t any different than taking down a deer, just in a different shape.”
“And now?”
“Now I’ve seen other faces,” Lynn said, thinking of the traveler on the road, who Lucy had begged her not to
