Page 14 of Dustwalker
“You won’t get another chance, Lara!” Devon called as she rinsed and filled the canteen. “You’re not the only woman worth looking at here.”
She screwed on the cap and bit her tongue. Rage burned in her chest, mixed with shame. Everyone knew about Tabitha. Why wouldn’t they assume Lara would trade her body for food, too?
Didn’t you?
She didn’t allow herself to look back as she hurried south, unsure of whether she was fleeing Devon or the truth.
Her heart finally slowed when she passed the last shacks on the outskirts of town and stepped onto the road leading to the southside ruins. A few other scavengers were already out, moving in different directions along some of the other paths. She knew them all by name, though they kept their faces covered. Scavengers typically gave each other a wide berth. Conflicts weren’t worth anyone’s time, but that didn’t mean they were unheard of.
The wind whipped at her clothing as she returned to the site she’d scavenged the day before. Finding the pitcher had been encouraging. Perhaps, with hard work and a little luck, there was more to discover there.
Lara paused at the spot, turning to study the desolate landscape again. Dark clouds dominated the southern horizon. Between the ruins and those distant clouds lurked the endless Dust. People talked about the scrap that could be found out there, buried in the sand, scrap that only dustwalkers went to find. But they were an odd lot. Tabitha had called them crazy, and Lara agreed.
The sun bore down on her, casting its sickly yellow glow through the haze. There wasn’t any more time to waste. Lara crouched and dug through the rubble, working till her hands ached and her fingers were raw, stopping twice to pluck splinters from her skin. Old paper crumbled in her hands, and every gust of wind blew dirt into her face.
The day wore on, uncaring for the struggles of mankind.
By afternoon, her sweat, blood, and pain had only earned her a few more bits of rusted metal and some cracked plastic. Combined with her haul from the prior day, it would put food in her belly, but notmuch. Sighing, she pressed the cloth of her headwrap to her forehead to soak up some of the sweat.
She picked up a rectangular object to move it aside. A shard of glass fell from its bottom, clanking on the slab of concrete below.
Lara turned the item over. It was a wooden frame holding a photo, which was obscured by a cracked pane of glass. She shook the shards onto the ground and examined the image.
There were two people in it, a man and a woman. He was dressed all in black, save for a bit of white showing beneath his coat and the blue cloth tied in a bow at his neck. He gazed at the woman tenderly. And she…she was stunning. Her blonde hair hung in ringlets down her back, shining like gold, her pale skin was clean and unblemished, and her lips were painted a vibrant red. She wore a crisp white gown, decorated with delicate patterns and little white beads. The woman’s smile was radiant, and her eyes sparkled.
Lara wasn’t sure how long she stared at the picture; it was a timeless moment, and everything else fell away around her. The beauty and joy captured in the photo left her speechless.
And it had been buried, forgotten, for countless years.
A drop of water landed on the photo. Lara’s eyebrows fell in confusion. She raised a hand to her cheek, only to find it dry. Another drop struck the beautiful woman’s face. Lara looked up. The black clouds were overhead now, and a strong wind blew through the ruins.
“Damn,” Lara rasped. She stuffed the framed photo into her bag to keep it safe. It had no value, but she couldn’t just leave it out here to be destroyed. This harsh world had already taken the people in the picture, but Lara could at least protect the last memory of them.
She quickened her search, discovering a couple crushed cans—a small victory. The sporadic rain suddenly became a downpour, falling sideways in the strong wind. Blinking moisture from her eyes, she slung her bag over her shoulder. She’d have to hurry back to town. After a long dry spell, the first rain was always the worst, and the roads wouldn’t be able to handle the excess water.
As she carefully made her way through the debris and back toward the path, a metal sheen caught her eye. Lara paused, narrowing her eyes and turning to find the source. She spotted it in a heap of rubble. Before she could lose sight of it again, she climbed onto the pile, testing her footing on the loose debris, and pulled the object free.
She didn’t stop to examine it until she was on solid ground. Laratilted her head. It was a small box, fitting neatly in her palm. One side was discolored and deteriorating, but the metal band around its middle was surprisingly clean. Turning it, she found the hinge along the back side and opened it.
Lara released a long exhalation, and for a moment, her lungs refused to fill. When she caught her breath, she laughed and bounced on her feet. “Holy shit.”
Nestled within upon a patch of dark fabric, untouched by the sun and weather, was a ring. The band was gold, with a clear stone inlaid atop it. It was precious metal. A tiny, seemingly insignificant trinket that could nonetheless keep her well-fed for weeks.
Tentatively, she ran a finger down one of its smooth sides.
“It’s real,” she said with a laugh. “It’s really real.”
The rain pelted her, stinging even through her clothes, but Lara grinned. For the first time in a long while, things looked good. She’d nearly forgotten what hope felt like.
Swinging her bag around to her front, she walked toward the road. As she opened it, her foot caught on some debris. With a gasp, she fell, feeling something tear in her boot as she landed hard in the water rushing along the side of the road.
Lara’s heart stopped. She watched the box fall from her hand, watched the ring tumble out of it, watched the water sweep the bit of gold toward a cluttered storm drain.
“No!” She scrambled on hands and knees, ignoring the dirty water splashing in her face and the pain of rubble cutting into her skin, but she wasn’t fast enough. The ring disappeared amidst the trash and muck gathered around the drain.
“No!” she screamed again, leaping at the gutter. She dug through the mud, tossing aside jagged chunks of concrete, tufts of dead grass, and scraps of wood and cloth.
“No, no, no. You can’t do this to me!” She pounded her fists into the flowing water, hitting the drain beneath it. Between the foamy, murky runoff and the rubble, it would be impossible to find the ring.
