two grim old men were playing dominoes, passed three shuttered empty houses, and even as another earthquake nearly shook me to my knees, the penny never ceased its insistent, glowing pull.
It led me around a sharp corner, and dragged me straight toward a clapboard house with a dusty vase of dried daisies in the window, the windows shuttered forever, a mount of dead flowers covered in dust at the doorstep. Lucy’s aunt’s house. The penny went still and dropped limp in my hands. I took a deep breath, trying to still the fear that rose in my chest. This is it, I thought. Just talk to her. Try to make it right, whatever it is. You’ve got to do this.
“Sal…” said a voice.
I turned to see her standing behind me. Gone was the brightly colored dress, the bright, coordinating kerchief. Gone was the subtle lipstick, light mascara. I hadn’t seen her like this in years, but she was still beautiful, and the sight of her sent a jolt of warm electricity through me. A feeling I didn’t understand. I wanted to run to her, to hug her and thank whatever gods there were that she was all right.
But Lucy didn’t want to see me. I stood still.
Silence built between us. And something like anger, like hurt, grew in me.
“I looked for you, you know,” I said. “I had to dowse to find you. Why didn’t you come to see me when I came back? I thought you were dead.… I thought…” My voice cracked. “Are you mad at me? For burning down the Sacrifice? Is that it?”
“No,” she said. “I’m not mad at you.”
“Then why—”
“I’d rather not, Sal,” she said.
“Lucy, no matter what happens, you’re my friend,” I said. “I’ve admired you for so long, you know? I went to the hospital. I know you’re becoming a nurse. And those dust masks that people wear now? The cloth ones? I know they were cut out of your old dresses. You’re such a kind, good person. I’d hate for our friendship to end for any reason—especially if I don’t know what I did to end it.”
“You didn’t do anything, Sal,” she said, her voice weary. “Trust me. It’s not you.”
“Then what…?”
“The finer fabric is harder for the dust to get through,” Lucy said. “But even with the masks, people are still getting Sick.” She sighed and pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket, one covered with mud and blood. “I’m Sick, Sal.”
It seemed then like all the sound went out of the world. The only thing left was that heavy, doom-ridden word. Sick. Sick. Sick.
“How long…” I started. I let the terrible sentence end there, unfinished.
“Not long,” Lucy said softly. “That’s why I didn’t come and see you sooner. I didn’t want you to see me like this.” She summed up her drab dress and rough kerchief as though they were supposed to be ugly, as though anything could be ugly on her. “I didn’t want to distract you when you have such an important job. Not when your mother…”
“Lucy,” I said. “You are not a distraction. You’re one of the reasons I’m fighting in the first place. And I’m going to be with you every step of the Sickness… if you let me.”
She came to me then and hugged me tightly, and just for a moment, I allowed myself to relax in her arms, to just be.
“Sal,” she whispered when the hug broke, “something’s wrong. Something’s wrong in Elysium.”
“What do you mean?”
“The outbreak came as soon as you two were exiled, and it’s only gotten worse,” she said. “It’s still getting worse, the closer we get to the day the Dust Soldiers come back. Sal, Trixie’s dead,” said Lucy. “So are her aunt and uncle. And so many other people.”
My heart did a strange thing in my chest before dropping down into my stomach. I couldn’t pretend that I hadn’t imagined what Trixie’s face would have looked like when she saw me come into Elysium on my mechanical horse, with Olivia and the others by my side. But now our petty squabbles were meaningless. Shame crept over me and hung on my shoulders like a cape. But Lucy wasn’t finished.
“After Aunt Lucretia died, I started helping out at the hospital, trying to figure out where it was coming from, looking at patterns of who’s gotten it and who’s been safe. But it all seems so random. Even people who were inside on the day that that dust storm came and