“Don’t ever let a man take from you what isn’t his to take,” my mother warned shortly before her death. “They’re taking everything else. You’re all you have left; yourselves and each other.”
I grew up bearing the weight of the truth about my mother’s death, never wanting my sister to know. Sosie couldn’t handle the truth; it would destroy what little there was left of her, destroy her utterly, push her over the edge. Sosie was a damaged soul. Weak. Broken. Broken by the loss of her sight, the loss of everything she had ever known and loved about life before The Fall. Broken by our mother’s death. Sosie Fenwick was a landmine just waiting to be stepped on. If I had ever told her the truth about our mother, it would have been what finally set her off.
So, with my secrets and my mask of bravery and my motherly efforts that often fell short, I went on living—existing—in a dangerous world much bigger than I would ever be. Life in the mountains, hidden away from the raiders and the Big City leaders and the chaos and the death and the slavery, was, in a sense, peaceful. Life went on. But every day that succeeded it left me feeling the dread of inevitability. I knew that our quiet, secretive life in the mountains would not last forever. Every night when I closed my eyes, I imagined it. And every morning when I opened them, I expected it.
“Thank you for the fish,” Sosie said with a smile in her voice.
I looked up, the terrible images running through my thoughts still there. They were always there.
“Anything for you,” I said, returning the smile. “Even if you’re an impossible girl sometimes.” I grinned.
Sosie laughed. But her playful mood was short-lived.
“I hate it that I can’t do the things you can do,” she said. “I feel so worthless.”
“You’re not worthless,” I scolded. “Don’t ever say that. You do plenty.” It was important I made sure Sosie always felt valuable, needed.
“And I have to say,” I went on, “you recite the most beautiful poetry, and for a little while you make me forget about all of this. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“You like my poetry?” Sosie’s voice held an undertone of surprise.
“Of course I do! You wait and see”—I pointed at her—“your name will be mentioned with the likes of Baudelaire and Poe and Angelou someday—long after you’re dead, of course.” I chuckled.
Sosie’s cheeks flushed, and she couldn’t keep the smile from her face, though she made an effort. Compliments were never easy for Sosie, who stayed down on herself because of her handicap. Feeling sorry for herself was her only flaw, I thought.
“Well, you’re the best storyteller I’ve ever known,” Sosie said.
“You think so?”
“Definitely,” Sosie answered with a heavy nod. “And to be honest, I think your poetry is even better than mine.”
“Never,” I told her, shaking my head.
“Is so.”
“Is not.”
“Is so!”
Laughter erupted.
“What, are we in elementary school again?” I said.
Sosie chuckled. But then her smile faded. “I wish we were, Thais…I really wish we were…”
I turned back to the window to watch for my father, or Fernando and his mother, or anyone; it was eerily quiet outside. Sosie went on raving in the background about my stories. But when I noticed an orange glow illuminating the forest behind Mr. Hatley’s house, I put up my hand to silence her.
“Shh!” I hissed, my eyes fixed on the glowing light that seemed to get bigger and brighter as it came through the dense trees.
Sosie stood from the chair; the wood creaked as her weight lifted from it.
“What is it?” she whispered impatiently.
“I…don’t know.”
A flash of Father’s figure darted past the window then, and the front door swung open and slammed into the wall. Sosie let out a yelp.
“Help Sosie get her shoes on!” He was frantic as he ran through the house. “Now, Thais!” He pointed at Sosie with urgency.
I halfway expected my sister to protest about the assistance like she always did, but this time even Sosie knew there was no time for that—something terrible was happening; she looked affright standing in her tattered blue dress that hung to her ankles.
As I rushed through the room to grab Sosie’s shoes next to the fireplace, Father ran into his bedroom and came out toting his shotgun.
“Daddy, what’s going on?” I dropped Sosie’s shoes next to her on the floor. “I saw something in the woods. It looked like torches.”
Father went to the window and jerked the curtain over the screen, leaving just a sliver he could watch from. His gun was loaded, his finger never far from the trigger.
“I want you to go to the cave,” he demanded, and my heart sank. “Don’t take anything but yourselves.” His body shifted; he hunched over to peer through the sliver in the curtain more closely.
“Are you coming with us?” Sosie asked, her voice small and high-pitched like a little girl’s. She was standing next to me with her walking-stick; we were both shaking, our arms linked, panic in our faces.
“Go now! Don’t stop for anything and don’t come back here! I’ll come for you. Now go! GO!”
My heart pounding violently in my chest, I grabbed Sosie’s arm and dragged her through the living room, the kitchen, and then out the back door; the screen door slapped against the frame as it closed sharply behind me.
“I can’t run as fast as you!” Sosie cried. “I might fall!”
“I’ve got you!” I said, pulling her along. “Just don’t stop running!”
Sosie’s open-toed sandal caught underfoot and sent her falling forward. I couldn’t catch her in time before she went down, and I nearly went down with her. Sosie made a quick retching sound as the rubber end of her walking-stick buried in her gut.
“Get up!” I shouted, trying desperately to pull her to her feet.
Looking back, I saw the orange glow getting larger amid the trees, and I knew that whoever it was had to be close to our house.
“Hurry, Sosie! No—leave it!” I grabbed her walking-stick and tossed it aside. “We’ll get it later!”
A booming shot rang out, stopping my heart and my running legs. For a moment, we couldn’t move; I looked back through the thick trees that now hid the view of the town, waiting. But for what? What do I do? Why can’t I move?
Another shot. Shouting. More shots. Screams.
Sosie lost control of her bladder; the smell of urine rose up between us; tears streamed down both our cheeks.
“Come on!” I said, pulling Sosie’s arm.
We sprinted clumsily through the woods toward the cave.
2
THAIS
Many exhausting minutes of nonstop running seemed to fly by as we made our way deeper into the woods. Out of breath and my lungs burning, I refused to stop even though it felt like my heart might give out if I didn’t.
But Sosie could go no farther.
She snapped her arm from my grasp and let her weight drop, falling against the ground. She gasped for air, her hand pressed to her chest.